One year... or was it a few weeks?

Posted on Tue Nov 1st, 2011 @ 1:36pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD

Mission: Tomorrow's Arizona
Location: Starfleet Command, San Fransisco, Earth
Timeline: Mission End

Commodore's Log, Stardate 63334.3

It's been nearly a year since the Arizona discovered the floating Guardian of Forever... at least by our reckoning. We've spent a year trapped in the 27th century thanks to the malevolence of the Guardian, pitted against the overwhelming and indomitable might of Species 8472. In the 27th century, they had all but conquered our known galaxy, beaten back the Borg, shattered the Alpha and Beta Quadrant powers... to say nothing of the losses we suffered.

By my count we lost a full fifty hands to them before we managed to return to our own time. Fifty battle brothers and sisters who died to get us home. We lost the Arizona herself in the near constant battles, and managed to survive only because of the discovery of a vessel that could fight them on even ground. We've lost our home, our friends... but we survived...

Upon our return we were told our absence had spanned only a few months, which seemed odd but not remarkable. We were directed to Earth, where the ship we'd brought back with us became the property of Temporal Investigations, another event that did not seem overly outlandish given the circumstances. Many of the crew have already been reassigned, and I myself am awaiting my fate. I am to stand before a court martial committee for having lost a ship under my command. I knew I would the moment the Arizona was crippled beyond repair, and I am ready for it. My only hope is that her name won't be tarnished, the lives lost be forgotten because of the circumstances that surround her loss and their deaths...

[Starfleet Command, San Fransisco, Earth]

Several weeks had passed by since Commodore Nathan Cowell and the remainder of the USS Arizona crew had returned to their appropriate timeline. In that time, the vessel they had returned in had found its way into the hands of the Temporal Investigations department, who had spirited the craft away moments after the ship had entered Earth orbit. Much of the crew, Nathan included, had felt a pang of regret to see the ship that had become their new home for nearly half a year be taken from them almost as harshly as the Arizona herself had been torn away from them. It has come as no surprise, but the impact of seeing yet another familiar place being taken away from them so abruptly still managed to have an impact.

The crew of the Arizona itself had mostly been reassigned, though some of the more ardent members of the crew refused transfer until their Captain had received whatever judgement he was bound to receive for the loss of the Prometheus-class vessel they had all called home. Nathan knew them all by name, and some he'd spent more time with than he'd ever expected he'd have the chance to. They had rapidly become family to him, and even the futile gesture of postponing new assignments meant the world to the aging El-Aurian.

The old man strolled through the corridors of Starfleet Command, dressed in the Admiralty uniform that befit his rank as a Commodore. Men and women stepped aside as he walked by, making way for the man as he moved through the corridors toward the conference hall that was to be his court martial trial chambers. More than one of his crew had expressed a desire to be there, but Nathan didn't wish any of them to be present, for their own sake more than his. He would rather them not hear him defend his actions and simply believe that he did everything he had for their benefit. And while such was more than likely the case, it wouldn't do to have his image tarnished... they didn't need to know he wasn't the curmudgeonly old man that they'd all grown to care about...

Commodore Cowell walked into the chambers and found a small panel of Admirals sitting at a table at the far end of the room. Without so much as a nod to any of them, the old man approached and folded his arms across his chest.

"I'm here to answer for the Arizona... She gave'em hell, took even more than she could give out, and she went down fighting. I won't apologize for it, won't make excuses for it, but I damn well won't let you people throw her in the trash bin just because we got sucked into one of those damn time paradox things that chap my ass..." the old man declared bluntly and boldly before he even introduced himself.

Admiral S'iraa had spent the better half the prior night and this morning reviewing the information one last time surrounding the destruction of the USS Arizona. He payed particular attention to its Commanding Officer, one Commodore Cowell. In the side room he gathered his final items of information when just as he was about to walk out he heard a man talking, rather boldly he thought at the panel of Admiral's whom were to decide his fate. He stood there listening, direct, to the point, didn't hold back.

"Indeed you are here to answer for the Arizona, Commodore, however perhaps you will remember where you are, whom you are addressing and the situation you are currently in." S'iraa said walking out to take the center seat between the Admiral. "I understand as I am sure you do that a Court Marshall is customary in the case of a starship loss, it's happened before and will happen again in the future." S'iraa said as he looked the man over, gauging his body language.

He could tell that the man seemed confident in his convictions, stood by what he did, sure that he tried his best. Of the several interviews that were conducted with the surviving crew the accounts for the most part in some form or another matched up despite the many locations and departments they were given from.

"Commodore Cowell." S'iraa said thinking that this was the first time he'd encountered the man. "Why is it you feel compelled to walk in here, as you have done, speak to ranking senior officers in the manner you just have?" He asked, wanting to see what the man was driving by.

"Because I'm six hundred and five years old and I don't have much else left to lose anymore. I've served more stints in more military branches than you've had birthdays, seen more comrades die than there are stars in the Federation, and if even one of them goes forgotten because of bureaucrats who want things nice and tidy and don't want the apple cart upset... then dammit I'm going to upset the apple cart until those men and women are honored and that ship is put on an honor roster. I've taken more ass chewings for my attitude than I can remember and I'm happy to take another one for all the right reasons," Nathan answered with no shortage of blunt determination.

"So, you see or feel that, given your experiences, age and the like, that is something that should excuse your conduct?" S'iraa asked. This man was driven, he would be too if the roles were reversed and he had to defend his ship and crew, even those that didn't make it back, but he would have done things differently, there were lines for a reason.

"Or an acceptable position to take if you want, as you say, to get the Arizona on the Honor Roll?" another Admiral asked.

"It's not about me, it's about them. I give a damn about me if it means they get the honors and such that they have coming to them. I've seen too many administrations over the centuries forget that the people who give their lives are the real heroes... I'm not about to let this one do it too. Hate me, hate the bluntness, hate the messenger all you like, but do right by the people I'm representing. You do that... and it really doesn't mean a damn thing what you do to me for bringing you the word the way I'm bringing it. Chalk it up to me being senile if you want to... lord knows my daughter would... But the fact remains that there are fifty people and a ship's good name at stake here. Which one of you wouldn't bring the thunder if they had been your fifty people... your ship? If even one of you has the balls to say you wouldn't I'll be more than happy to drag you outside and beat some sense into you... I got spare time," the old man said, never once unfolding his arms or making any real movements from the spot he stood on.

S'iraa grew mildly unimpressed with the Commodores attitude. While yes it is one thing to be upset or emotional following the loss of ones ship and crew, however to march into a room, blast at the panel before a word is said, grossly disrespecting the panel and everything it stands for, then to top it off, do the same to the Fleet Commanding Officer. S'iraa looked at the man, one Admiral had already made notes on the table top computer in front of each of them. Once one Admiral did, so did the others. "Agreed." S'iraa said.

The four other Admirals stood up and left. Leaving S'iraa and Cowell in the room alone. "Do you know who I am Commodore?" He asked, his voice, calm, collected.

"Can't say that I do... should I? You serve under me somewhere? You don't look like you're a doctor... But then again, I don't reckon I look much like a ship Captain these days either so I don't suppose that means anything..." Nathan said as he squinted at the Caitian in front of him, "You look like a cat I had years ago... but she wasn't bipedal and she didn't talk much... Loved her head scratches though..."

"I am Admiral S'iraa, Master of the Starship Dreadnought." He opened. "I am also Commander In Chief of the Fourth Fleet, formerly of the Caitian Defense Force." He introduced. "I've not served under you no, you however serve under me." He pointed out. He stood up and walked around the table to sit on its edge, the same side as the Commodore.

"I lost a ship, the Galaxy Dreadnought variant of the USS Dreadnought. I lost over half my crew and yes, like you, I wanted them remembered because they gave up a life devoted to the service." It was a difficult thing to remember, Caitians view losing a ship as a grave dishonour. "The four Admirals that just left, they want me to refuse everything you have requested, because of what you have done." A small pause. "Can you tell me though, if you were in my shoes, with the codes and principles I have to uphold, after being spoken to like that, would you agree to any terms?"

"A Captain is responsible for the actions of his or her own ship and crew, are you honoring them now by your behavior? I understand very well what it is you want, but is this really, the right way to go about it?" He followed on with.

Nathan shrugged, "Probably... but I'm not you. I'm me... and I respect people with the guts to say what they mean and mean what they say. If you've lost men and women, you should know just as well as I do that it takes a lot out of you. Imagine how I feel. I've been a military man since Earth's Civil War. Back when I started, you told people things as boldly and as bluntly as you needed to to get the job done. I believe in that. World went soft after that damn Vietnam garbage... But anyway, the reason I am how I am is because I'm getting on in years and I've let more people fall by the wayside than I should have. If anything, I'm making up for all the times I didn't come right out and bitch slap people until they sat up and took notice."

The old man sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, "Tell you the truth, I walked in here mad as hell... mostly at myself. For a year, I've kept those kids alive... and lost far too many of them because of what I maybe should have done, or shouldn't have done, or could have done better and it ate me up. Is it your fault? Probably not, but it is what it is. I said I'm not going to apologize or make excuses and I stand behind that. But I can't just stand here and not be who I am because of protocol... Just isn't me anymore. Back when I was a hundred... two hundred... yeah, I'd have saluted you lot crisply and carried on smartly... I'm just not that man anymore. I'm Nathan Cowell, an old saw bones from down Virginia way that fought for the Union against the South... And even that doesn't seem like me anymore."

Nathan clapped the Caitian on the shoulder suddenly, "You know something though... I don't regret a word of it. It felt good to finally let it all out. I'm sure if I had a shrink they'd go on about how I was repressed or suppressed or depressed or some kind of pressed... Hell, I don't know... I studied medicine, no witch doctoring... Point is, son, you've got to do what you've got to do, and I've got to do what I've got to do and tonight, I'm going to sleep just fine because I said my piece and had my day in court. Now it's up to you. Are you going to look at this wrinkled old bag of bones and condemn 50 good people because I cuss like a sailor and can't be bothered to be a good little minion? Or are you going to see threw the gruff and gristle and realize that I'm just fighting for my people in my own way and even I have a place in this man's Starfleet, foul mouth and all. What's it going to be, youngin'?"

S'iraa could see what the man was saying, understood his points of view, but one thing did stick out. "Time, changes everything, as you said back on Earth with wars times and perspectives were different, now Earth is united and the Federation is here. Is it that because you view time differently to others, that you have become....inflexible, to change or adapt to today's standards of things?" S'iraa asked. "I can't imagine what it's like to live as long as you, I will be fortunate to reach 120 years, however with time comes change, we can embrace it or we can push it aside and substitute it for our own." S'iraa stood up again. "You have been in many militaries, I have no doubt you are perhaps one of the most decorated people in Starfleet if we were to back date your decorations. However, I have four Admirals who you have angered, two of which want to scrap the Arizona from ever coming back, one wants to send you for mental evaluation, another wants to eject you from Starfleet."

He ran his hands over the fur on his face and up between the ears. "In a world of today's Starfleet, Honor, Duty, Respect, Courage are all key words the service goes by, without one, you can't have the others. We... I take no pleasure what so ever doing this, I have been Commander in Chief for one month and this is my first Court Marshall, I do not enjoy it, but I understand why it has to be done and I try my hardest to make it as painless and prompt as I can."

"Like I said, son, you got to do what you got to do... but weigh it against what is really right, not just on one old man's half-senile rants. Those kids on that ship did a hell of a job, better than some people do in a lifetime as long as mine. They won't be coming back any time soon and even if they did... well... I won't get in to that nonsense since I don't have all day... Point is, I'm old, you're young, I've had my fun and I've had my follies... And just this one time I figured a crew deserved to have an ornery old bastard come in and lay down the facts like they ought to be. Made me feel good, made those other Admirals shit pellets... which is a personal record for me. Hell, the last time I made a room full of brass uncomfortable was at a big ceremony back just after Korea. I was a full-bird Colonel, and we were all sitting around a big table eating and shooting the shit. Had one two star... can't remember his name now but anyway... Had this old two star come over to me and rant and rave about how his son came to my field hospital out in the shit and didn't get the star treatment he thought he deserved for being a General's brat," Nathan chuckled as he fell into nostalgia.

"So I asked this guy, I said 'When did he pay us a visit?' This two star tells me he was with one of those recon squads that had gotten ambushed by some of those Northern bastards. Some of them got shot in the legs or arms, none of them were hurt that bad since the shit heads couldn't aim for nothin'. So I asked him 'Who was he, what was wrong with him?' This guy tells me the kid's name, which was lost on me, I see a thousand different people a day in a field hospital, names mean less than dick to me. So he tells me his injury, right? Guess what it was..." Nathan paused, expecting an answer.

S'iraa was not sure since the time period was beyond him and knew so little of that era. "Self inflicted wounds?" He posed.

"Nah, even better... he got shot in the ass!" Nathan laughed, slapping the Caitian's shoulder, "Boy was turning tail and running from those shit heads when one of them hauled off and busted one right in his ass. So then he gets all offended when I start laughing. I said to him, I said 'Sir, if your son hadn't been such a damn pussy, he wouldn't have two assholes and he wouldn't have gotten all butt hurt that we weren't the Ritz-Carlton.' Oh you should have seen the room go quiet. I laughed my ass off all the way back to my billeting I was so tickled. And the best part was, I retired just after that, so he didn't even get a chance to get me back... Priceless, I tell you... fucking priceless..."

Nathan laughed for a few more seconds before he stopped and blinked, "What were we talking about?"

"We were digressing actually." S'iraa realized they had been speaking for almost 15 minutes. "You're here for them, those 50 of your crew that didn't make it back. Making enemies will not help your cause, you want the Arizona to continue, much like I did with the Dreadnought." S'iraa said making his way back to his chair. "Sometimes we have to bite our tongues, take one for the team or in this case, your 50 crew that didn't make it back."

He sat down. "We don't like it, but we understand it, we have to accept it for what it is and these four Admiral in that room are your best chance. Now I'm not asking you to play nice, but remember, would you forgive yourself because those 50 went unnoticed because all one man did was attack?"

"Hell, I've had my fun. Don't rightly mind being nice to them now that I've gotten that out of the way and off my mind. Hell, we'll just say I had a bought of senility... wouldn't be the first time I've gone a little half cocked off the deep end. Or hell, you can go ahead and tell them I'm just stressed out about the deaths, not in my right mind, sent me to sick call, ignore everything I said and I'll be ok and just carry on without me. Wouldn't be the first time people have done that either," Nathan chuckled, "The one advantage to being six hundred... Even if my mind isn't really gone, no one really needs to know. Up to you, you make the call, young man. Hell, I like you... you got spunk, and you sat and listened to me ramble. Not many kids your age do anymore... You're alright in my book."

S'iraa signaled for the other Admiral's to return, it was still evident they were unhappy about his earlier behavior. "Have you anything else to say for this Court Martial to hear?" One Admiral asked.

Nathan mulled it over for a minute before smirking, "Yeah, you boys need to smile more. Can't stand to see a room full of frowns. Better for morale when you're happy around your troops. Look at the old man there."

Nathan pointed at S'iraa, "You might not know it, but he's smiling on the inside. Shines through plain as day. I'm sure on a bad day that Caitian could bite your head clean off and ask me to sew it back on to do it all over again. But hell, he's a happy guy. I am too... if you can stand to be around me more than five seconds. Tell you boys what, though... I bet when all this is over, every one of you will still be willing to join me at the bar and drink one for the old Arizona, am I right? See... I can tell you're looking forward to that drink already. This one here looks like he can put them away pretty well."

Nathan pointed to the Admiral to S'iraa's left, "Stout looking boy... Bet you were the keg pounding king back in your Academy days. I probably treated you for alcohol poisoning too. And you over there in the corner. I know I know you. Back in '61, you were on the Hershel... shore leave if I'm not mistaken. Your buddies brought you in with all kind of crap wrong with you after a run in with an Orion pleasure girl. Don't think this old man doesn't recognize a patient when he sees one."

Nathan shook his head, "See how small this man's Starfleet is? Didn't think you knew me and bam! I whip out the history books and slap you with nostalgia... Good times... By the way, what ever happened with you and that Orion girl?"

For the briefest of seconds, the Admiral he'd been talking about looked indignant, but finally as he labored under the withering glare of Nathan's iron gaze, he admitted, "I married her..."

"Hot damn... never would have thought..." Nathan whistled in actual amazement, "Good on you boy... You got more spunk than I do if you can keep a girl like that satisfied... Lord knows..."

S'iraa raised his hand to draw things to a close. "Not that I don't mind a visit into the past however we have a task at hand and other cases to resolve." S'iraa spoke. "Admirals, your final decisions." The Admirals then thought for many long minutes as they entered the information S'iraa needed. Information came spilling in on his four monitors. It seemed however the Admirals had time to consider all the aspects of the case, including his behavior.

"The panel finds no error in your actions which concluding with the destruction of the previous USS Arizona. Your behavior and attitude while, questionable, is understandable, in light of the facts available and statements from the crew. Those 50 lost will be entered into the records of service officers and ratings lost in the line of duty and each name added to the plaque within these grounds." S'iraa said. "Also, it's been decided, that the USS Arizona will be returned to the fleet, as a Sovereign Class starship. She is currently at Utopia Planitia Berth Nine. You will take command of this ship at your earliest convenience." S'iraa hoped that covered everything.

"Is there anything else?" The Admirals didn't seem to have anything. "Commodore?"

"I appreciate your willingness to look past one old man's big mouth... and drinks are on me. You guys coming?" Nathan grinned uncharacteristically.

"Another time perhaps, I have prior engagements to attend to." S'iraa replied, "Unless there is anything else, this case is closed."