"Put him on screen." Kirk was back in the captain's chair, his leg in a regenerative cast, his head wound healed with the dermal regenerator and pain medication for his wrists. He observed his bridge crew. Leiutenant Davies came through fairly well having suffered a minor sprain in her wrist. Tony, of course, was fine except for some sore knees. T'Nia's arm and the burns to her face had been restored. She was sitting in the auxiliary computer control. Tyler had been knocked to the floor, but other than some soreness, he was in good shape, too. Tom Kelly was now back on the bridge monitoring engineering from his console. He had a large pipe collapse on him and had suffered minor internal injuries from being pinned to the ground. They were healing nicely. The doctor and his EMH 'assitant' had performed well beyond expectations...as everyone else did.
There was a quiet peace about the bridge. No one had really spoken for that five hour trip, except for an occasional ship report from Elaine. Maybe it was the near-death experience they almost had together, maybe it was the sense of loss of crewmates, maybe it was their wounds...maybe it was something else. Whatever it was, Stephen was content to let everyone be silent. He had his own demons to wrestle with. For that five hour trip, all Stephen could think about was what could have been done differently. Something...anything... that could have kept those eight people alive. He blamed himself for the overloading of the cannon that caused it to explode. He blamed himself for not being able to compensate for the lag time of the computer. The same voice of doubt had swelled within him saying his critics were right. He had no business in Starfleet, let alone command. Perhaps Captain Velasquez was wrong in choosing him. Prayer was the furthest thing from his mind.
"Commander Stephen Kirk." The voice was somewhat familiar. He had heard it on newscasts and seminars before... but that voice had never called his name.
Kirk struggled to snap himself out of his mental arguement and looked up at the viewscreen. He saw the image of Captain Jean-Luc Picard standing on his bridge. He could see the rest of his bridge crew seated as well, save the science officer's seat. "Captain Picard," he started. "It's an honor, Sir."
Captain Picard's face smiled wide. "The honor is mine, Commander." He replied. There was definately something regal in his voice, his presence, even his accent. Captain Picard had suffered even greater loss than he, yet his voice was calm, authoritative, almost fatherly. "From what I hear, the crew of the Enterprise owes you a great debt of gratitude."
"It looks like you held your own." Stephen replied with a weary smile. As grateful as he was to be talking to a living legend, right Stephen just wanted to go to bed.
"There's no need for modesty here, Commander. We would not have survived an attack by two of those warships. There's no telling what would have happened within the Romulan Empire. This day has turned the course in the Federation's relations with the Romulans. The Warlord was key to that. As we mourn our losses this day, we must remember to rejoice in the greater good that was accomplished. I will personally see to it that your entire crew receives official commendations for your performance." With that, the bridge crew of the Enterprise stood up and clapped.
The bridge crew of the Warlord looked at each other. They had been missing that speech. As they smiled, looking back on what their sacrifices had yielded, they realized that there was a bigger picture. Their chests puffed and they sat somewhat higher in their seats. Everyone except T'Nia, of course. She was simply content to stay where she was. She acknowledged the compliement with her standard nod. Eventually, the Enterprise crew sat down.
Kirk struggled to hold back tearing up. Perhaps he did the right thing after all. Perhaps this was a victory he could savor...eventually. He took a deep breath. His voice was sincere. "Thank you, Captain." Stephen's voice became official, his stance military-straight. "I have been ordered by Starfleet to render any assistance you may need in repairing your ship for travel. Once your vessel is warp capable, we are to escort you back to Spacedock for repairs."
Picard understood Kirk's need to not be caught up in the moment. "I understand, Commander. The Romulan government has a number of issues to deal with. I have been told by one of their interim Proconsul that formal talks between the Federation and the Romulan Empire will begin once their government is re-established. Our chief engineer has already informed me that we should have warp power within the hour, at which time Enterprise would be honored to have Warlord escort us home." Picard's voice warmed again. "Once we are under way, I would consider it a personal favor if some of my officers could beam over and personally shake your hands over dinner."
Stephen smiled. "I'll make sure we bring out the good silverware, Sir."
Picard smiled back. "Very good. We'll contact you as soon as we're ready to leave. Enterprise out." The viewscreen switched to a full picture of what was left of the Enterprise. The planet Romulus could been seen below it.
Stephen sat back down in the captain's chair with a heavy sigh. He turned to T'Nia. "I'll be very happy when Captain Velasquez takes her seat back." He added a smile.
"Really?" She questioned. With a patented Vulcan raised eyebrow, she continued. "I thought it suited you quite well." The rest of the bridge crew, having turned to watch the conversation, each considered the possibility, then smiled and returned to their posts.
Stephen wanted to change the subject. "Oh?" He quipped with a smirk. "I would think you have more important issues to consider."
Her eyebrow raised even further. "As in...Sir?"
Kirk pointed to the burned out remains of her console. "As in that workstation of yours. Look at the messy condition of that console. What kind of outfit do you think we run here?" He bit his lip to keep from smiling.
Without missing a beat, T'Nia replied, "I believe my job description mentions USING the console, not tidying up after it, Sir."