Jim watched the stars outside of Observation Deck C as they sped away from Psi 2000, three days in the past from when they ended this mission, which was an interesting circumstance. Right now Joey was with Spock on the planet as they began the events that brought the Enterprise to where they were at now, and their data would be sent off to Starfleet in a couple days – along with an in-depth report of all that happened to them due to the contaminated water on the planet. The deck doors opened and he waited for the person who had come in to leave him to think in peace when he heard footsteps and smiled. Ah, never mind, it was Spock – the only person who would disturb him when he was on any of the Observation decks. And the only person whom Jim was fine being disturbed by when he was in this sort of mood.
"We did it, but that was too close a call for my comfort, Spock. How many more times is everybody on this ship going to almost die because our scanners simply aren't good enough? I can't accept that. Joey died, all because Starfleet didn't do enough testing before sending a research team to planet Psi 2000."
Spock was standing at his head as he rested the back of it in his linked hands, watching the stars go by as they hared off into a new part of space. "We will indeed have to be incredibly cautious, Jim. However, I do feel the need to point out that whilst Starfleet is indeed culpable, it was Tormolen's own fault as well for not being cautious enough. He had to have gotten contaminated somehow, and I doubt that it was the fault of anything except complacency and an assumption that since the planet was said to be safe, it, of course, actually was safe."
Jim frowned and nodded, "We'll need to fix that then. Make sure we treat every planet with at least some level of suspicion regardless of how our tests look. That means no assuming an uninhabited planet is actually uninhabited, that means using gloves for taking any kind of samples, that means no eating or drinking strange things, unless we are stuck on that planet due to some sort of malfunction. Even then we need to take water and rations so we don't get stranded and someone dies because the water or food on the planet is toxic and we couldn't detect that."
His First Officer sat down by his head and he looked up at the Vulcan, who nodded at him solemnly, "I am already making up lists of rules to be used on away missions, regardless of how brief they will be, for that exact purpose. They will be given to any who might go on away teams, meaning largely the Science crewmen and Security. If anyone comes on a mission who has not already been given the rules, then that will be remedied swiftly."
"Mmm, good thinking, Spock."
They lapsed into silence for several moments, Spock and Jim both watching as the stars, solar systems, and nebulae passed them by. When a particularly large nebula was covering the screen, stunning in its blue and purple glory, Spock broke the silence again, asking, "Would you take it amiss if I were to inform you that I am glad you are firmly placing the blame where it belongs this time around, instead of blaming yourself for Tormolen's death?"
Ah. Of course. No doubt Spock was remembering how he had blamed himself for the deaths of the people on board the Antares, when it had not been Jim's fault, it had been Charlie's. "No. I wouldn't – and don't – take it amiss, but you do need to understand that this will happen less often than you'll probably like."
He was watching Spock from the corner of his eye, and his friend turned to him inquiringly when he stated that, so he expounded. "I take the loss of people close to me personally, and, because it is absolutely necessary for me to run a tight command, that means just about everybody on this ship counts as being close to me."
Jim sighed, "I still – very irrationally, which I am aware of by now – feel responsible for all of my family and friends who died on Tarsus IV. I still feel as though every person who was in my care died because I was not enough – strong enough, fast enough, smart enough, etcetera. In some ways, it matters very little to me that I managed to save the lives of eight children who would have otherwise been executed. All that matters to me is that a further twenty two died despite my efforts, and that my aunt, uncle, and three cousins all died, were all executed, when I was playing at the beach. I'm just glad I hadn't been surfing, or I likely would never have touched a board again, and then I would have overworked myself into death while I was at Starfleet Academy."
He let Spock absorb this, and wondered what his friend would have to say. It was illogical and irrational for him to think this way, but he couldn't help it. It was just part of who he was. When he took responsibility for someone, he assumed responsibility for everything about them, including their lives. That was why – although there were quite a few people on board whose personalities he blatantly could not stand – he was warning Spock about this. He couldn't let the Vulcan think that this episode was how things would normally go. This time, yes, he did indeed have something else to place the blame on, but normally he took the blame solely onto himself.
Finally, Spock responded, carefully explaining his thoughts. "While it is indeed regrettable that you will forever take the blame for the loss of any person on board whom we might lose because of accident, disease, or confrontation, in a way it is also a relief. I say this because, despite being irrational, that is what makes you such a good Captain, Jim. You care about people. You take responsibility for both your actions and theirs. You get involved. It makes you an outstanding leader, and someone whom I highly respect and look up to. After experiencing your leadership, it has become clear to me that I would never be as good of a Captain as you are, because I simply hold myself back far too much to be accessible to anybody except the closest of friends. Your crew works harder and is generally more careful because you care, because they know you, because you have connected with them. That caring is what makes the difference between a leader and a despot."
Trust Spock to put things into perspective like that. Of course, that had been one of the reasons that – to begin with – he had forced Spock to relinquish his command. It hadn't just been Spock Prime (Selek, whatever) informing him that it needed to happen – he had worried about the potential loss of life with someone who didn't care about his people personally in charge of their ship. Of course, by now Jim was fully aware that although Spock was reserved in how he expressed it, he did care about everybody under his command in one way or another, even though he could not possibly be said to be friends with even a significant portion of them. He was, however, friends – or getting there at least – with the Command team, and especially good friends with Jim himself and Uhura (hell, he was even managing to – somehow – relax Bones' attitude towards him, which was a fuckin' miracle. Bones was incredibly pissed at the whole "marooning on Delta Vega" thing).
Jim smiled over at Spock and sighed, "Thank you, Spock. It makes me happy to know that you think so highly of me."
Then he added, more quietly but still absolutely certain that Vulcan hearing would pick it up, "I respect and admire the hell out of you, Spock, even though I doubt I express that as well as I want."
He was watching Spock as he said it, and was gratified at the affectionate look that grew in his First Officer's eyes, there for him to see clearly. He smiled softly and looked back out at the screen, humming contently. The past three days might have been bad, but right here, right now, everything was golden.