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Star Tron: Louder Than Words Chapter 9: The Dust SettlesThree hours after the battle, Driscoll joined the Voltron Force, Marshal Graham, Admiral Nechayev, and the others on the ground at the Castle of Lions. The Force had discovered the remains of the Unity, but no survivors. However, during the battle, some 68 survivors from the Farallon had made it to the escape pods and then safely to the surface of Arus.
The fighters had caused extensive damage to the village. A number of buildings had been destroyed by fighters, others caught fire after downed fighters crashed into them and exploded. Casualties numbered in the dozens. Miraculously, the Starfleet command post was undamaged, and became the central rallying point for the damage control efforts.
The Berlin itself was also badly damaged. Two hull breaches, one torpedo room out of action, transporters and tractor beams inoperable, three shield generators were destroyed, the warp drive was damaged, and seven crewmen were killed. Over three times that many were wounded. To top it off, they had one photon torpedo left, and most of the phaser power cells were drained by the use of tightened beams and increased output power.
Once all the information had been presented, Nechayev called Driscoll aside, and the two ducked into a side hall off of the Control Room. And Driscoll knew what it was about. He'd been charged with defending Federation interests in this dimension, and he'd failed. The Farallon was lost, and his own ship was nearly crippled. All from a single robeast attack. Over 400 Starfleet and Alliance people were dead or wounded, including Admiral Popovitch. And it was all his fault.
"Captain, what happened today was inexcusable," Nechayev began.
"I know, sir. I accept full responsibility."
"For what?"
"For the attack. I said I could defend the wormhole, and I was wrong. I lost the Farallon, and the Berlin is barely spaceworthy. I failed in my duties as captain, and in my assignment, and I am ready to accept the consequences. We can be ready to return to Earth in 36 hours."
Nechayev looked at him strangely. "Yes, you're right. You did fail. But it wasn't your fault. It was a brilliant tactic, masking their approach behind the planet. And you had no time to act before the Farallon was crippled. But the Berlin did keep the robeast away from the Farallon. You couldn't possibly have done that and deal with Lotor at the same time.
"Captain, I'm not here to pat your hand and wipe your nose. What happened was terrible, but you did the best you could with what you had. You are not at fault. Now suck it up. We've got work to do."
"Sir?"
"I've talked with Soval and the Councilors, and the Alliance people. We're going to sign the treaty. Doom declared war on us. That means the gloves are off. I've also called for a field refit team, and the CST's Vila and Newport News will be arriving tomorrow to repair and refit the Berlin. Once that's done, we'll talk about your next mission."
"Yes, sir."
"Furthermore, you may consider this mission accomplished. You won't be going to the brig. We'll need you here."
"Thank you, Admiral."
Nechayev nodded, and lead the way back into the Control Room. Everyone looked up as they entered, and Keith said, "Admiral Soval told us the news. Welcome to the war."
Driscoll nodded, and the group began to discuss damage control from the attack, and options for a counter-strike.
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Late that night, Driscoll was in his room in the castle, trying to put together seven letters to the families of the crewmen he'd lost. Scattered around the room were crumpled sheets of paper from failed attempts.
There was a knock on the door, and Adam bade the caller enter. He was only mildly surprised to see Keith walk into the chamber. "How's it going?"
Driscoll shook his head. "Terrible. Of all the things a captain does, this is the one I never wanted to do."
Keith nodded. "It's never easy, is it? Explaining to a mother or a husband or a wife that someone they love isn't coming home."
"No, it's not. I mean, how do you tell someone that somebody died because you screwed up?"
Keith looked at him. "Is that what you think?"
"I'm the captain. It's ultimately my responsibility. I know Nechayev cleared me but…"
Keith sat down in a chair near Driscoll's desk. "Adam, let me tell you something, as one commander to another. You'll always think it's your fault. You'll always wonder, 'what if I'd done this or that?' That's part of the job.
"But if you have trouble accepting it from Nechayev, then take it from me. It wasn't your fault. I've seen Coran's sensor logs. You did nothing wrong. But you could only handle one threat at a time. You can't be everywhere. You didn't know Lotor had destroyed the Unity, or that he'd go after the Farallon."
Adam nodded.
"That's the first time you've seen one of your ships go down, isn't it?"
"Yeah. I didn't think it would bug me this much. I mean, I read the reports from Wolf 359, and the casualty reports coming in from the DMZ, but I've never seen it first hand."
"I'd like to say it gets easier, but it doesn't. It does get easier to deal with, though."
Adam nodded and scrawled another sentence on the paper in front of him. Then he crumpled it up and tossed it aside.
Keith took in all the papers scattered about. It was easy to see that Driscoll was not used to this. "Can I make a suggestion?"
"Sure."
"Tell it like it is. Don't sugarcoat it. People appreciate that."
"Thanks, Keith, I'll try that."
Keith nodded, then rose. "I'll see you at practice tomorrow."
"Can't make it. Memorial services."
"Okay. Good luck," Keith replied, and left Adam to his work.
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Captain's Log, Stardate 51341.3: The refit of the Berlin is nearly completed. Our weapons and shields have been upgraded, and the damage sustained in the assault two weeks ago has been repaired. Now, we're only waiting for resupply of consumables and sailing orders.
"Okay, one, two, three, lift!" Lt. Turner called, and he and the other three men lifted the quantum torpedo into its storage rack. Normally, this would have been done with an antigrav lift, but they were all being used elsewhere, so the torpedo crew resorted to old-fashioned elbow grease.
Captain Driscoll wiped the sweat from his brow. That was the last of twenty-four quantum torpedoes that the Berlin had received, in addition to 100 standard photon torpedoes. Driscoll had been inspecting the torpedo room, and volunteered to lend a hand with the loading. This was more than welcomed by the crew, as each torpedo weighed well over 250 kilos.
"Good job, fellas," said Turner. "That should be it."
"Yep, that's the last one, unless they're gonna give us extras."
Turner chuckled. "I doubt that, sir."
"So do I," said Driscoll. Just then, his combadge chirped. "Nechayev to Driscoll."
"Driscoll here."
"Captain, would you please join me at the Castle of Lions?"
"On my way. Driscoll out." He turned to his crew. "Gotta bail, guys."
"A mission, sir?" An ensign asked expectantly.
Driscoll smiled. "We'll see," he said, heading for the door. "But it probably wouldn't hurt to get those torpedoes ready."