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Fallout

Posted on Mon Dec 3rd, 2018 @ 2:29pm by Colonel Drass Kebron & Commander Milo Tora

Mission: Episode 2: Columbus Ascending
Location: Captain’s Ready Room, USS Valkyrie
Timeline: January 3rd, 2389 10:00 hours

[Main Conference Room SB 611, December 30th, 2388 13:13 hours]

“On the count of the violation of Starfleet General Order 17, willful endangerment of the ship’s complement, this Court finds the defendant, Commander Milo Tora, not guilty. On the count of the violation of Starfleet General Order 29, negligent endangerment of the ship’s complement, this Court finds the defendant, Commander Milo Tora, not guilty. On the count of the violation of Subchapter 10, Section 912, Article 112 of the United Federation of Planet's Uniform Code of Justice, intoxication while on duty, this Court finds the defendant, Commander Milo Tora, guilty...”

Tora shuddered. The bang of the gavel sent a shiver down his spine like a bucket of ice water being poured down his back. That was the sound of his career going out the airlock. Presuming he wasn’t dishonorably discharged and thrown in the brig, he’d lose his command, get sent to some backworld outpost, and left to rot.

Vice Admiral Samantha Collins, or rather the hologram of Admiral Collins, set down her PADD, took off her reading glass, folded her hands, and rested them on the bench as she looked down on Tora and his representative. “Up to this point, Mr. Tora, you’ve had an exemplary service record. In light of this, the fact that this is your first offence, and, frankly, the current shortage of qualified command officers willing to make a potentially one way trip to the Delta Quadrant, I have decided not to throw the book at you. However, given the seriousness of the offence and the nature of the events surrounding it, I do feel a stern statement must be made that being intoxicated while duty will not be tolerated.”

Donning her reading glasses again, Admiral Collins picked up a PADD and began reading, “Commander Tora, this Court sentences you to forfeiture of your pending promotion to the rank of Captain. Furthermore, you shall be ineligible for promotion for a period of not less than twelve months and subject to random blood alcohol testing while on duty for said period. This will be a two strike probation. Two positive tests or any other breach of conduct will result in your summary dismissal from Starfleet and potentially additional charges.

“Temporary command of the USS Valkyrie will be given to Colonel Drass Kebron,” Admiral Collins continued, “And you will serve as Executive Officer for the duration of your probation. Colonel Kebron will supervise your probation and will report your progress to Task Force Thirty-Eight Command at regular intervals. Should you complete your probationary period without incident, command of the Valkyrie will be returned to you and your eligibility for promotion will be reviewed. Do you understand these terms, Mr. Tora?”

Tora nodded stiffly, “Yes, your Honor.”

“Very well,” Collins banged the gavel one last time, “This court martial is adjourned.”

[Captain’s Ready Room USS Valkyrie, January 3rd, 2389 10:00 hours]

Standing in front of the Ready Room door, Milo pressed the chime. It’d been years since he’d had to wait on this side of the door, and he could feel the weight of the bridge crew’s eyes on him like a neutron star sitting between his shoulder blades. A moment later the door whisked open and he stepped inside. The room was spacious, with a large desk situated directly across from the door, a formal seating area off to the left, and an informal lounge couch and replicator beyond that. The space continued, wrapping around and disappearing behind the bulkhead on the other side of the desk. He couldn’t see what was there, but it likely led to the lavatory.

The man seated behind the desk was large, even by Brikar standards. Colonel Drass Kebron looked up from his terminal and blinked, “Can I help you, Commander?”

“Commander Milo Tora, reporting for duty,” Milo snapped to attention, but resisted the urge to salute.

Drass made a low, rumbling noise that was the Brikar equivalent of a Humph, “The infamous Commander Tora. I’d say welcome aboard, but you’re the reason my workload has doubled. Let’s get two things straight. First, I’m not responsible for your sobriety. You are. I won’t lose a wink of sleep if you fall off the transport and get booted from the service. Second, I’m not doing your job. I’ve got a thousand Marines to wrangle and no time to run a starship. You’ll be responsible for handling the day to day operations of the ship, I’ll make the command decisions. Understood?”

Milo nodded stiffly, “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Drass grunted as he reached for a PADD and slide it across the desk. “Starfleet Command has decided re-christen the Valkyrie to the Columbus-A to honor the fifty-seven lives lost under you’re command. Make it so.”

Bristling from the not-so-subtle accusation, Milo reached down and picked up the PADD. “Yes, sir,” he managed through clenched teeth.

“Dismissed,” Drass said with a dismissive wave.

Executing a precision about-face, Milo marched out the door and stopped as it closed behind him. He took a deep breath, counted to ten, and slowly let it out. He hadn’t been this humiliated since...he actually couldn’t think of a time he’d been so humiliated. Looking down at the PADD in his hand, he could only think about how badly he wanted a drink. Six more hours, he thought. He could manage that, right?

 

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