Chapter 29 - Incident, Part 5

Vice Admiral Justin watched the last few cadets filing into his office shuffle into spots around the perimeter. All but two stood at parade rest, heads down. The two who didn't stood with hands at their sides, eye's eagerly forward. He'd instructed everyone who considered themselves involved in the incident to report to his office. A broad call like that often meant that extras reported, and they were always a certain kind of cadet.

Justin waited more than a minute before standing up and stepping slowly around the desk.

"I don't know if I've ever had this many cadets in here at a time." He looked at Sowser, a tall, very dark skinned human woman with her long hair pulled back into a bun from which emerged three shiny curls. She stood weighted forward on her toes, head up. He turned to Ovid, a square faced pale human male with dirt color hair and a large birthmark on his neck who projected a similar desire for movement. Both of them were colony born, high achievers from poor circumstances. Neither of them did he suspect took part in the incident in question.

"I assume the lot of you know why you are here. A hazing episode got out of hand and one of your fellow cadets spent four and a half days in an ICU." Gazes shifted but remained on the floor or directly on him. "I understand injury was not the intent of your actions. But the conditions that led to that injury were entirely of your making, therefore the outcome is your responsibility. We give you room to learn for yourselves how and why things go wrong and how to be your best selves to mitigate that. That's by design. No one can teach you that but experience.

"It's a privilege we have to protect, by the way. And you aren't making that easy. So, consider that, as well, next time. There is always a bigger picture. Several bigger pictures. If you are handed responsibility, you have to cherish and respect it if you want to hold onto it."

Justin expected an argument, or an attempt at excuses at this point, and was pleased to get only strained silence.

"There are two aspects of the events that cross the line. The first was the use of a weapon." He reached behind him for a miniature palm phaser edged in lime green glass and held it up. "The device in question. It was turned into Lt. Grange through a third party. It is only capable of stun, so we are at least not in the realm of a possession violation. But the user of this device lacks respect for it, and that, to me, is the same as a full violation because misused this device is a real weapon. Under the law, it is not, so that allows us to keep that aspect of the punishment within our own jurisdiction. That means you deal with me. Whoever you are."

He looked at each of them, hoped for a tell, and didn't get one. The silence continued.

"Well, we do expect you to stick together. And so long as you learn to act with wisdom and foresight, sticking together has the potential to be acceptable. You're here to learn, after all. But don't think it's gone unnoticed that this is a record number of you in here, and the targets of your prank don't exactly bleed red. And every last one of you does."

Ovid glanced at Sowser, at the others. "That wasn't a consideration, Admiral."

"Sure about that?"

Ovid moved his mouth. Finally said, "I think so, sir."

"Consider it more carefully. I want you to be absolutely certain." Justin tugged down his uniform sleeves, leaned back against the desk. Ovid and Sowser were too good at leadership. They had inserted themselves into the situation and were holding others back from stepping up.

"I've been told the reason for the attention on these particular cadets was that they were overreaching their position as first years. One of the targets is rather exceptional, so that could explain the attention, but not the tactics, and certainly not the outcome. The other individual is low average, at best, so there is absolutely no excuse for targeting her."

Justin placed the phaser on the desk behind him. "The other aspect of events that crossed the line, based on two complaints I received, was your fellow cadet's use of a harrowing psychic attack."

Sowser and Ovid glanced around their fellows. Justin noted which faces their glares went to first. One guess matched who had contacted him, the other did not.

"In general, sixth and seventh senses in Starfleet are treated the other five, no matter how enhanced. You learn to work with the people who have them and they learn to work with you. So, the outcome of that attack depends in part upon the victims' decision to pursue with the civilian authorities."

Sowser said, "I don't think that will be necessary, sir." She glanced around, took in everyone. "I don't think anyone here wants the SF courts involved in an Academy matter."

No one countered her.

"Two individuals complained, sir?" Ovid asked.

"Correct."

Ovid sent a grumbling frown around the room. Justin had some hope that the legal aspect would be dealt with without further intervention on his part. But that was optimistic.

Justin said, "One might contend that if one repeatedly stuns a touch telepath and then voluntarily touches said individual skin to skin, one is responsible for the outcome. But evidence indicates there is fault to be put on Cadet Spock as well."

"Really, sir?" Sowser said.

"Everyone here is held to the same high standard, Cadet. Without exception. You would have it be otherwise?"

She opened her mouth, her face became distressed. "I suppose, sir. Doesn't seem . . ."

"Doesn't seem . . . ?"

She dropped her gaze for the first time. "Fair, sir."

"Noted." Justin crossed his ankles the other way around. He scanned the room one more time, taking in each face, each bent head. "From the tapes we can certainly see what happened. I can also see that hand to hand needs far more attention. The cadet in question single-handedly took out well over half the individuals in this office right now. And he was a hell of a lot more gentle with you than you were with him. I do hope you think that over."

He let them sweat, let them try to stand with minimal rocking or fidgeting for another long minute.

"I intend to be harder on you than any civilian authority could be. And while you will be stronger because of it, you aren't going to like me. And a few of you will quit because if it. And that's fine. At this point in your career our goal is to figure out who we really want to invest with future responsibility. This is your first time at the top of the heap. We don't know who you are until you reach this point. You don't know who you are. Power does amazing things to people. It's like alcohol. You need to recognize your own point of no return before you get drunk on it, and learn deep within yourselves the discipline to always remain this side of sober. Always."

Justin pushed off the desk, stood straight.

"Starting tomorrow, every senior cadet will report at oh four hundred to the south plaza for three and a half hours of hand to hand training. I've recruited a rather large number of duty personnel who are between assignments or on injury leave to assist with this. They have been told to not be gentle with your egos when you fall short. And based on the tape, that's going to be most all of you."

"Everyone, sir?"

"All seven hundred and nine of you. Oh four hundred. Tomorrow. Yes." He waited. Gazes were wide, fixed in the distance. Three and a half hours out of each day would leave them no personal time at all. "That's all for now. You will be hearing from me. If you hear from anyone else about this, I've lost administrative control and some of you will not be getting a chance to prove you've learned better."

He looked around, pleased to see some sheens of sweat.

"You are dismissed."

The embassy's floor whispered under foot as the three of them made their way to the living quarters in the rear. No one spoke. The lights came up in the sitting room as they entered.

Spock shuffled his arms inside his robe sleeves. After nearly five days on a heated bed, the air sandwiched between the marble floors and high ceilings prickly cold against his skin. Sgroud and Sten came in through a rear door, waited for instructions.

Sarek turned. "Do you wish for anything, Spock?"

"Hot tea, please."

"Mild herb earth tea. He is not to have any stimulants."

Sten hobbled off. Amanda moved to put things down on the long cabinet by the windowless wall. It was unusually disorganized. The scent of the hospital was wafting through the room from their clothes. Sarek turned his attention to his correspondence. Spock touched the back of his head where the lazdrain had been removed, brushed his hair down over the sensitive swellings on his scalp.

The tea came in. Sarek motioned for Spock to sit. Spock did so with as much dignity as he could muster. He'd been resting too long, but could not fathom moving excessively even if it would relieve his aches.

Sarek sat down with his letters. He raised his head to say, "When you have finished you should retire and rest, and if you have difficulty resting we will contact Zienn."

"Yes, Father."

Amanda took the seat on the other side of Spock. This wasn't the tea room, and the table was decorative, so the tea was served on an overly large shallow silver tray. The light reflecting off it stabbed through Spock's eyes and into his skull.

"I wish to attend class tomorrow," Spock said.

Sarek raised his eyes. "Do you think that advisable?"

"The doctor stated that I may return to my normal activities as I am comfortable doing so. But preferably that I, quote, marinate in the sunshine with the hounds." Spock touched the band on his chest through his robe. "I will have the monitor on for at least a week. I cannot put myself into difficulty without triggering it and the unceremonious arrival of professional care."

Amanda smiled faintly. "I'm glad you're feeling as well as you are."

Spock cradled his tea, let the heat soak into his hands. "I am rather far behind in my classes. I would prefer to quietly attend rather than need to catch up additionally."

"You can attend from here, can you not?" Sarek asked.

"Yes."

"I would prefer that for tomorrow, if not the next day. But if you wish strongly to return the day after tomorrow, you may do so." He lifted the digital paper he was reading, sat back to consider it. "It is you who must suffer your decision."

Spock waited a time, until he was certain he would not react physically. "Do you disapprove of my continuing?"

"Less so than I would were you not departing for a time at the end of this term."

"That is not exactly an answer, Father."

Amanda put down her teacup.

Sarek kept his eyes on his digital page. "My approval of Starfleet was already weak. It has grown weaker."

Spock stared into his teacup, gave himself time to level his emotions. "What would you have me do instead?"

Sarek looked up. "That does present a problem. The idea of attending the Vulcan Science Academy displeases you."

"It does."

"May I ask why?"

Spock's tea shimmered in his hands. He couldn't hold it entirely steady. The medications dulling his nerves would be administered for at least a week, until a followup appointment the doctor deemed him fit to be off it.

"At the Science Academy I would not have earned my place, unlike Starfleet Academy. And socially I would fit in even less there than I do at Starfleet Academy. In contrast to recent events, my fellow first year cadets are interesting and mostly pleasing companions."

"I informed you that you could attend Starfleet's Academy and I will not forbid you from doing so."

Spock balanced his teacup for a time before setting it down half full. "Thank you, Father." He pushed back. "I think I will retire."

Amanda stood and followed him upstairs.

The last time Spock had been in this room, Kirk had been there with him.

"Spock. My son. Do you need anything?"

Spock sighed. Mental fatigue was weighing on his limbs. "No, mother. Thank you." He walked over to his desk which had been neatened, the electronic repair tools pushed to the corners in a way that defeated their shared purposes. "With the medications I do not think I will have difficulty resting."

She stood with an overly affectionate expression, hands clasped before her. "I am glad you're home. And that you seem all right."

"Do I?"

"Perhaps distracted."

"That is the medication. I think."

"Spock. If you have need of either of us, please page us."

He studied her.

"Well, I wish you would put pride away for just a day so we can take care of you."

"Does father wish me to be that weak?"

"Spock . . ."

Spock bowed his head. "Forgive me, Mother. I need to meditate."

She nodded sadly and departed, leaving the door ajar.

Spock took up an old padd and logged into his messages. There was a new one from Kirk.

"I'm heartened that you expect to be released on schedule. Please send me a longer message. Audio if you can arrange it. I might not get a chance to listen to it right away, but I'd like to hear your voice, hear for myself how you are doing."

Spock walked over to close the door to his room. He changed into a heavy robe that did not smell of the hospital and settled onto his bed, propped up on pillows. The bed felt punishingly cold beneath him. He cleared his throat and pressed record.

"James. I am in my room at the embassy tonight. I will likely remain for a day before returning to the dormitory and classes onsite. I have a great deal of studies to catch up on and unfortunately the medications make that more tedious than usual. I should study for a time this evening until I have no choice but to rest.

"On the other hand I have finished all of the literary readings for the term and received some introspective questioning from my mother to aid in composing an analysis of them. My own mother may be more useful to me in this way than my literature tutor, Shutan. I had not considered her skills as a possibility, to my displeasure with myself.

"As you can likely tell I am not quite myself. I hope that is the medicine, not the injury, but I will not know for at least a week. I have several followup appointments with McCoy, the xeno specialist at Med One. I am being very closely monitored ongoing. The specialist, McCoy, is adept in his area in a way I am not accustomed to. He is unofficial and strangely self denigrating, but based on how he organized my treatments, it is clear he he is highly knowledgeable and instinctively astute. Given his penchant for gut decisions on the basis of large amounts of background information but insufficient immediate data, you and he would get along well.

"I will be communicating more regularly, but if you wish for additional correspondence, you should ask Commander Overlander about her interactions with Dr. McCoy ongoing. I think she lacks for someone to speak with about this and would be pleased to have you to do so.

"I will be all right, James. I am annoyingly well looked after at this time. Please do not let me distract you. I cannot bear to."

Spock knew he sounded unsteady at the last, but sent the message as is. His eyes were hot. Overlander had accused him of worrying. With the medication working upon him, worry was an insufficient term for what Spock was experiencing.