The events at the junket hit the news feeds before the melee itself ended.
The sheer density of reporters, celebrities, guests, hangers-on, deal makers, starlets, wanna-bes and Star Fleet brass - meaning Komack and his entourage - all with personal comm devices and high-speed connections to the universe guaranteed the quadrant knew in real-time.
The resulting online onslaught of calendar memorabilia collectors melted authorized distribution servers on Earth, Betazed, Velara, Arachnis in the Klingon Empire (where Scotty had a major fan base of single Klingon women), Penthara in the Romulan Empire (where blood feuds broke out between two clans claiming Spock as a long, lost relative) and Gorn (where interest in Sulu doubled the conflicts and the sales of explosives).
Donal Trumpe spazzed as credit intake slowed to a crawl while server administrators were revived or replaced.
Donal freaked when sales soared without credits increasing - servers on Ferenginar (where the Ferengi "helped" themselves to a few million credits as a public service to those unable to access the authorized servers), Cardassia (where the Intelligence agency captured every users' access information) and Talos IV (where no species actually lived... really... Donal had a bunch of Betazeds check and they couldn't remember seeing anybody) picked up the slack and the money during the outages of authorized servers.
Thus Donal left the junket's management and the shepherding of the galaxy's once and future celebrity officers to no one as he made sure the credits kept rolling in on every side.
The outcome of the junket was commensurate to the quality of the management.
Unbeknownst to anyone - but suspected by Carol Marcus - Uhura implemented her own plan for ending this "adventure in voyeurism" that required full-time paid security to keep Spock fully clothed in public places.
While the ingenious plan accomplished her intent, it did so with far more collateral damage than she anticipated - even more than her lawyer (and mother) anticipated.
The morning started well enough with Donal convening the crew in Spock's VIP suite. Weasel-Boy informed them that an emergency required his attention as credits were being siphoned off by pirate servers on Ferenginar, Cardassia and Gorn (where the explosives manufacturers set up their own servers to keep explosive sales up). Donal's explanation bypassed the empty planet, Talos IV.
"How much are we losing per hour?" Sulu asked, typing furiously on his PADD.
"Toomuch, toomuch,Toodamnmuch!" Donal spit out.
"Listenlistenlisten. Komack and his posse are here so give'emagoodshow, okay?"
"Donal, what's the agenda for the day?" Kirk asked.
"Gladyouasked - see, that's why you're the head honcho! So, 11:00 you do a photo shoot with the Topless Miss Galaxy winner and runners-up. Be sure to wear those new thongs I got for you."
They lost Spock as he followed a running Uhura into the bathroom with a cola-flavored soda to help with the vomiting that always accompanied interactions with Donal.
"That's IT! Captain - court martial me now. I'll not be seen in that-that-that... JOCK STRAP!" Scotty vented.
"Calm down Mr. Scott. Donal, continue." Jim quietly commanded.
Carol rose to retrieve a cup of something soothing for Scotty.
The engineer gulped the liquid, eyes still burning holes through Donal, before reversing the flow of liquid all over McCoy.
"Dammit, Scotty! I'm a doctor not a spittoon!" McCoy barked, shaking the liquid from his shirt.
"What IS this - paint remover!?" Scotty yelled, staring in disgust at the cup.
"It's bourbon." Carol apologized, "The bar's out of real scotch.".
"Replicated scotch's better than this swill!" Scotty complained, sitting the cup as far away as his seated reach would allow.
"Watch your mouth," McCoy warned between sips of his own restorative, "I was raised on bourbon - don't be talkin' about my mama's choices.".
The Scot groused under his breath, "Explains a lot..."
"At 12:00 the concierge will take you to the pool deck for Rump 'Riting"
"Rump writing? Pretend I don't know what that means." McCoy queried, eyes narrowed in Donal's direction.
"Rump 'riting! Geez - wheredoyouguyslive? Delta quadrant? You'll sign autographs on people's rumps, youknow - their derrières-keisters-tuchuses-asses."
Uhura headed directly for Donal but had to reverse course when her stomach vetoed her intent to commit murder. Spock - who'd just cleaned up the bathroom - fell backwards into the shower as she charged into him.
"Monty won't be signing any posteriors with me there!" Carol protested.
"You can bet Donal's ass, I won't!" Scotty concurred.
"Donal," Jim sighed, rubbing his eyebrows where the migraine settled in, "anything else scheduled?"
"Pieceofcake-pieceofcake-pieceofcake after that. Mingling at the bar in the waterfall pool. Just bob around, smile and be nice to the VIPs and celebrities. Wear the new swimwear - they match your uniform shirts. Lot tighter, tho', ifyouknowwhatImean."
Donal's elbow poked Kirk, accompanied by a leer and a wink.
"Gottago. Gotta see who's stealing from us now. See you at dinner."
And with that, Donal left before Uhura could cross the room and beat his scrawny ass.