Part Four: An Admiral's Prerogative
Admiral Forrest put down his padd, picked up his drink and took a long, deep gulp. Grimacing as the whiskey burned its way down, he looked at the padd again.
Only the fact that Hamilton Leighton had swung first and that the entire UCLA football overreacted kept Jonathan Archer and his people from being court-martialed. Well, that and the fact that Hamilton Leighton proved to be an utter ass when it came time to cooperate with the Academy's security people.
Civilians.
They could be such damn fools.
Forrest read the damage report one more time and went over for the third time the transcripts of the interviews taken afterward. T'Pol's cracked him up every time he read it. When asked as why she stayed helped her former crewmates in the ensuing fight, the Vulcan woman's response was priceless. "It was only logical. If I had not helped, the brawl, as you call it, would have lasted much longer. As it was, only thirty-five percent of the Academy chapel was damaged and no one required more than an overnight stay in the infirmary. A satisfactory outcome for all involved."
Satisfactory outcome indeed, snorted Forrest. Only a Vulcan could say that with a straight face.
According to Jon, T'Pol calmly went around, ducking swings and kicks as she nerve pinched several hulking football players. Out of everyone there, only she and Phlox came out of the fight without a scratch.
Well, at least the only ones who stayed in the chapel during the fight. The only fortunate part about the whole affair was that most of the members of the two families got out of the chapel and weren't hurt. Geoffry Leighton, Hamilton' father, tried to come back into help his son, but was knocked out by one of the UCLA assistant coaches. He earned a broken leg for his trouble.
When it was all over, the Enterprise crew was victorious and mostly unharmed. A few cuts, lots of bruises and aching bodies, except, of course, for Malcolm Reed. He ended up with a concussion, but that was due to the fact that he threw himself in front of Hoshi Sato to keep her from being hit and dragged off by her irate former groom to be. Forrest shook his head. Poor Reed, his medical file was thicker than the specs for the newest update to the warp engines.
Forrest put down his padd once more and sighed. The press was having a field day with the whole thing, calling Hoshi either "The Brawling Bride-To- Be" or "Starfleet's Pride: The Runaway Bride." At least what they were calling Hamilton Leighton was much worse: "The Groom of Doom" and "The Blast From The Past Ass," were two of Forrest's favorites.
In the end, Starfleet decided not to press charges and didn't pursue the matter further, mainly because public sentiment was on the side of Hoshi Sato and the crew of the Enterprise. But Forrest decided not to take any chances; he wanted them out of sight and out of mind. So he cut vacation orders for Jon and the other officers involved the second it was decided that there wasn't to be a court-martial.
Jon looked at him in surprise when he'd told him. "Admiral, are you serious? A vacation? For six weeks?"
Forrest sat back in his chair and glared at Jon. "The other Admirals and I all agreed that if we punished you and rest, we'd have a public relations nightmare. However, we want this whole fiasco to just die down."
Jon scrubbed his still bruised face with his hands. "I understand that, Admiral, but six weeks vacation?"
Sighing, Forrest leaned forward and fixed Jon with hard eyes. "Williams wanted it to be longer. The fact is that by sending all of you on vacation, we get some peace and quite and a chance for the whole story to die a natural death. So, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Take the damn vacation and be grateful!"
Jon gave him a delighted grin and tossed off a crisp salute. "Aye, sir!" Breaking the salute off, he continued to smile. "Admiral, thank you, for all your help in this matter."
"Jon, I like Hoshi Sato too and I was damn sorry to see her leave active Starfleet duty to teach at the Academy. It wasn't her fault her former groom was an ass. Now, I have a meeting, so go on, get the hell out of here, Jon. I don't want to see hair or hide of any of you for six weeks, understood?"
"Understood, Admiral. See you in six weeks."
Jon started for door and just as he opened it, Forrest called out. "And Jon?"
"Yes, Admiral?"
"For God's sake, don't you dare get into another brawl like that ever again!"
"Yes, sir!" He grinned and winked before closing the door behind him.
Chuckling at the memory, Forrest took another drink from his glass and buzzed his aide in the outer officer. "Torres?"
"Yes, Admiral?"
"Where are Archer, Sato and the rest of the Musketeers now?"
There was a split second pause. Like all good aides, Torres knew what his boss was asking about and probably knew what Forrest was thinking before he himself did. "They are in Hawaii, sir. Maui, to be exact, sir. Staying at a resort off of the Hana Highway."
Forrest gave an approving grunt. "Good. Keep having an eye on them, Torres."
"Yes, sir!"
Forrest snapped off the comm and finished his drink, muttering, "Please, dear God, keep them out of trouble for two more weeks. Two more, that's all I ask."
Unbeknownst to him, the forces of chaos in the universe heard and decided to play nice, but just this once.
Admiral Forrest put down his padd, picked up his drink and took a long, deep gulp. Grimacing as the whiskey burned its way down, he looked at the padd again.
Only the fact that Hamilton Leighton had swung first and that the entire UCLA football overreacted kept Jonathan Archer and his people from being court-martialed. Well, that and the fact that Hamilton Leighton proved to be an utter ass when it came time to cooperate with the Academy's security people.
Civilians.
They could be such damn fools.
Forrest read the damage report one more time and went over for the third time the transcripts of the interviews taken afterward. T'Pol's cracked him up every time he read it. When asked as why she stayed helped her former crewmates in the ensuing fight, the Vulcan woman's response was priceless. "It was only logical. If I had not helped, the brawl, as you call it, would have lasted much longer. As it was, only thirty-five percent of the Academy chapel was damaged and no one required more than an overnight stay in the infirmary. A satisfactory outcome for all involved."
Satisfactory outcome indeed, snorted Forrest. Only a Vulcan could say that with a straight face.
According to Jon, T'Pol calmly went around, ducking swings and kicks as she nerve pinched several hulking football players. Out of everyone there, only she and Phlox came out of the fight without a scratch.
Well, at least the only ones who stayed in the chapel during the fight. The only fortunate part about the whole affair was that most of the members of the two families got out of the chapel and weren't hurt. Geoffry Leighton, Hamilton' father, tried to come back into help his son, but was knocked out by one of the UCLA assistant coaches. He earned a broken leg for his trouble.
When it was all over, the Enterprise crew was victorious and mostly unharmed. A few cuts, lots of bruises and aching bodies, except, of course, for Malcolm Reed. He ended up with a concussion, but that was due to the fact that he threw himself in front of Hoshi Sato to keep her from being hit and dragged off by her irate former groom to be. Forrest shook his head. Poor Reed, his medical file was thicker than the specs for the newest update to the warp engines.
Forrest put down his padd once more and sighed. The press was having a field day with the whole thing, calling Hoshi either "The Brawling Bride-To- Be" or "Starfleet's Pride: The Runaway Bride." At least what they were calling Hamilton Leighton was much worse: "The Groom of Doom" and "The Blast From The Past Ass," were two of Forrest's favorites.
In the end, Starfleet decided not to press charges and didn't pursue the matter further, mainly because public sentiment was on the side of Hoshi Sato and the crew of the Enterprise. But Forrest decided not to take any chances; he wanted them out of sight and out of mind. So he cut vacation orders for Jon and the other officers involved the second it was decided that there wasn't to be a court-martial.
Jon looked at him in surprise when he'd told him. "Admiral, are you serious? A vacation? For six weeks?"
Forrest sat back in his chair and glared at Jon. "The other Admirals and I all agreed that if we punished you and rest, we'd have a public relations nightmare. However, we want this whole fiasco to just die down."
Jon scrubbed his still bruised face with his hands. "I understand that, Admiral, but six weeks vacation?"
Sighing, Forrest leaned forward and fixed Jon with hard eyes. "Williams wanted it to be longer. The fact is that by sending all of you on vacation, we get some peace and quite and a chance for the whole story to die a natural death. So, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Take the damn vacation and be grateful!"
Jon gave him a delighted grin and tossed off a crisp salute. "Aye, sir!" Breaking the salute off, he continued to smile. "Admiral, thank you, for all your help in this matter."
"Jon, I like Hoshi Sato too and I was damn sorry to see her leave active Starfleet duty to teach at the Academy. It wasn't her fault her former groom was an ass. Now, I have a meeting, so go on, get the hell out of here, Jon. I don't want to see hair or hide of any of you for six weeks, understood?"
"Understood, Admiral. See you in six weeks."
Jon started for door and just as he opened it, Forrest called out. "And Jon?"
"Yes, Admiral?"
"For God's sake, don't you dare get into another brawl like that ever again!"
"Yes, sir!" He grinned and winked before closing the door behind him.
Chuckling at the memory, Forrest took another drink from his glass and buzzed his aide in the outer officer. "Torres?"
"Yes, Admiral?"
"Where are Archer, Sato and the rest of the Musketeers now?"
There was a split second pause. Like all good aides, Torres knew what his boss was asking about and probably knew what Forrest was thinking before he himself did. "They are in Hawaii, sir. Maui, to be exact, sir. Staying at a resort off of the Hana Highway."
Forrest gave an approving grunt. "Good. Keep having an eye on them, Torres."
"Yes, sir!"
Forrest snapped off the comm and finished his drink, muttering, "Please, dear God, keep them out of trouble for two more weeks. Two more, that's all I ask."
Unbeknownst to him, the forces of chaos in the universe heard and decided to play nice, but just this once.