Spock sat in his quarters, his eyes closed, his mind turning inward for sorely needed meditation. Despite the conflict with the Romulan vessels having been resolved in Enterprise's favor over ten hours prior, this was the first chance Spock had had to come off duty since, as he had been required to oversee damage control efforts and participate in several discussions regarding the disposition of the surviving attackers as well as other decisions necessitated by the ambush. His duty had had to take precedence, yet Spock had been, to use the closest human term, craving meditation the entire time. The emotions elicited by the battle were quite chaotic.
Being in battle always created emotional responses, even for a Vulcan with Spock's extensive combat experience, and such emotions were often turbulent, but this particular battle had been worse by several orders of magnitude. This was the first time Spock found himself in combat against Romulans since the encounter with Nero. Spock's Vulcan logic made it clear to him that no other Romulans deserved the blame for Nero's actions, just as no other human could be blamed for Khan's, however, his emotional human side was not as easily dissuaded from feeling clear anger, even hatred, towards beings who had any type of association with the one who destroyed his home, his people, his mother. Particularly as this had once again been an attack without any form of provocation.
'No.' Spock cut off his thoughts, refusing to continue dwelling on these illogical emotions. Refocusing his efforts inward, he set about purging them. He had been working for 11.42 seconds when he was brought out of his trance by the ping of the door chime. Swiftly quelling his annoyance, Spock called out to the door comm.
"Come."
The doors slid aside. Spock's raised eyebrow was the only outward indication of his surprise at the identity of his unexpected visitor.
"Am I disturbing you?"
"Not at all Commander. Come in."
Winona Kirk walked into Spock's quarters, her body language indicating to Spock that she was quite uncomfortable with whatever she had come to speak about. Spock rose from his meditation mat and strode over to the door to meet her, gesturing to one of his two guest chairs for her to seat herself. Spock took the facing chair and sat ramrod straight as he looked at Winona, waiting for her to speak.
"I'll not take up much of your time, Commander, I'm sure you've had a busy day."
Spock's only acknowledgment of the comment was a small incline of his head. Winona seemed to sense that Spock was not particularly inclined to engage in any idle chatter and steeled herself.
"Commander Spock, you are a logical being. Your reactions, your opinions, they are formed through pure logic, unaffected by emotional considerations."
"Ideally, yes."
Winona nodded, understanding the distinction.
"Wha- What is your opinion of my son?"
Spock raised both eyebrows at this question before responding coolly. "I am not certain how my opinions regarding Captain Kirk are any of your concern, Commander."
Spock always made it a point to be honest with himself, a key component of Vulcan culture. If this were not the case, he never would have allowed himself to admit, even in the privacy in his own mind, just how startled he was by the look of desperation that appeared in the woman's eyes at his response.
"Mr. Spock, I know I have no right to ask you this, but… I need to know."
"May I ask why?"
Winona sighed and adopted a faraway look. "I've been upset with my son for his entire life. His father died during his birth, and I've always felt my son did not care, was not grateful. I've always known him to be a troublemaker, a class clown. Someone who cared about his own convenience and nothing else. I- The James Kirk I know would never have been able to earn himself such loyalty from an entire ship full of trained Starfleet officers. And the way he acted during the battle- I don't know what to think anymore Mr. Spock, I really don't. My perceptions of my son are all muddled by our history. You are the most objective person I can imagine who knows my son. I need to know how impartial eyes see him. Please."
Spock regarded her in silence for a moment before answering. "I would not look to myself as the first example of being called 'impartial' with regards to James Kirk. The captain is quite intelligent, within the top percentages for standard human aptitude tests. He excels as a command pilot and has completed advanced classes in many disciplines. Much of his decision-making is based on his instincts, what he calls, 'his gut', yet he has proven to be quite willing to accept the council of logic when he finds it sound."
Spock paused for a moment before continuing. "But Jim is more than his skill at his Starfleet position. He is a deeply wounded and troubled man, a man who feels his emotions deeply. His empathy, loyalty, and moral compass are quite remarkable for someone who bears the psychological trauma of his past. He does not trust easily but when a person earns his trust, he will employ any means at his disposal to render whatever assistance that person may need, no matter the personal cost."
Spock sat back in his chair and put his hands up together in front of him, all five fingertips touching, but no other parts of the hand. "He is my friend, and I would be lying to claim total impartiality where he is concerned."
Winona sat there in silence for 9.3 seconds, simply staring at Spock incredulously, before finding her voice. "B-But F-Frank. He locked him up…. A starship captain can't simply throw his passengers in the brig whenever he feels like it-"
"Captain Kirk did not merely 'feel like it'. The charges against your husband are quite serious. I myself have devoted much of my time during the two duty shifts preceding the attack to locating evidence incriminating him, and thus far the results appear to support conviction. Captain Kirk was not only within his rights to incarcerate your husband, as a starship captain he would have been derelict in his duty had he not done so."
Winona's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, her face bearing a common human expression that Dr. McCoy had once likened to a fish. She sat there gaping at him for several moments.
"Wh- What are the charg- no, I don't think I can handle that too right now." She got to her feet, somewhat unsteady, but not to a degree that Spock judged sufficient for calling medical assistance.
"Th-Thank you, Mr. Spock. You've given me… a lot to think about…."
With this, Winona left, leaving Spock with a curious sense of satisfaction to add to his list of things to purge in that night's meditation.
While Spock sat in his quarters, Kirk and McCoy were ensconced in Jim's cabin, an open bottle of whisky sitting on the desk between them, the sounds of sipping being the only thing staving off the oppressive silence.
"How are you handling it, Jim?"
Kirk blew out a breath through his nose before answering McCoy's question with a question.
"How am I handling what? The fact that my ship was attacked and almost destroyed today and it could potentially spark a war? Or how am I handling the fact that our mission has been reassigned so we can head home for the dual purposes of repairs and for me to testify at a trial that will put my sordid private past on display for the whole Federation to see?"
"Yes."
Jim snorted. "'Bout like you'd expect," Jim responded in the midst of the process of tilting his head back to down another glass full.
"Look Jim, maybe we can get you out of this somehow. My brother in law is a lawyer, I can talk to him. I bet they can't make you testify-"
"Bones!" Kirk held up his hand. "I can't get out of it. The defense's strongest argument is already going to be hinging on the fact that I'm the one accusing him. If I try to bail out of testifying, there's no way Frank will go down. I can't let that happen Bones," Kirk's voice took on a more somber tint, just a notch above cracking. "I can't."
Kirk's eyes adopted a faraway look as he turned his head upward and gazed with unseeing eyes into the past.
"I owe it to them."
The two men sat in relative silence for half of the night. One plagued by the far too numerous ghosts of his past, the other unwilling to let him face their judgment alone.
The Enterprise left Starbase 15 the next morning en route for Earth. She had undergone temporary repairs at the base to restore basic functionality to her warp drive, but the base drydock was already backed up, so there was no point in attempting to squeeze the flagship into the queue to repair the gaping hole rent in her flank by the final blast from the Romulan ship. Not when they had to return to Earth anyway. The decision regarding the disposition of the hulks of the Romulan vessels and their survivors was rendered moot in the end. When the U.S.S. Endeavor arrived and attempted to move in to take them into custody, the vessels exploded, in what was clearly a last ditch attempt by the Romulans to achieve some kind of victory through their deaths. Only the quick reactions of Spock and the Endeavor helmsman prevented the attempt from being successful, leaving the vessel merely banged up a bit. Meanwhile, the science delegation (with two unfortunate exceptions) had been transferred to the Lexington which would, under escort, convey them on the rest of their mission. Enterprise's crew was understandably disappointed at losing the opportunities that came with the presence of the geniuses, but under the circumstances none of them objected to the change.
As the starbase was fairly close to Earth, the journey home took only the majority of that day. By midnight, ship's time, the majestic starship was settling into her birth at the dock orbiting her homeworld.
The trip had been marked by a set of decidedly withdrawn Kirks. The whole way Jim had been rather subdued, the twinkle in his eyes lacking its usual brightness, lost in thought whenever his duties permitted. Only Spock, McCoy, and Uhura were able to engage him in any kind of meaningful conversation, if nothing but short replies to questions actually deserved the term. Winona had not even been seen out of her quarters since her conversation with Spock.
Kirk decided to remain on the Enterprise, knowing the ship felt far more like home than his apartment on Earth. When the anticipated interruptions in his fitful sleep came, he was able to get up and wander around, taking in his ship; the sights, sounds, and smells of his ship, feeling comforted by her steady reassuring presence. He wound up in an observation lounge. Not his normal favorite one, as that would only show him the uninspiring view of the section of Spacedock Enterprise was hugging, but with so few people aboard this didn't matter very much. That was where his senior officers found him early the next morning, all of them walking in and taking positions around the lounge, providing him with the quiet support of their presence. In that moment, as Kirk sat preparing for his worlds to collide this coming day, he was able to find some solace in the fact that out of all the times he'd had time to be sitting around dreading an up and coming inevitable disaster, for the first time he felt support at his back. If he fell, they'd catch him. When the time came, Jim found the strength in their support to push to his feet and head down to the planet to meet whatever came.
That day, at 1400 ship's time, noon in San Francisco, the crew of the Enterprise was gathered with press, litigators, jury members and spectators in a large white courtroom. An older Kafeerian named Eneery walked in and took the Judge's position. When the court collectively retook their seats, Eneery asked the jury to read out the charges. Kirk closed his eyes briefly, knowing that it was about to begin.
"Your honor, Mr. Frank Garson stands accused of aiding and abetting an act of genocide, specifically culpability in the massacre on Tarsus IV."
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