Stardate 88546.72 - Earth Space Dock
The doors hiss open to reveal a small dimly-lit room where the lighting is reserved for the long table at the other end of the room. On a table are several small boxes, all are sealed but the contents are well-known.
I know what must be done ... and I don't want to do it. The condolences were already sent from my ready-room shortly after it all happened. That was standard procedure, but this part of the process is being altered at my request. Of the four hundred crew the Galatea started with, only 373 returned. From the missing, five received the venerable Federation Star Cluster posthumously. I guess, after six months, that is within the margin of acceptable loss.
One step forward.
'Acceptable Loss' runs counter to the idea of the preciousness of life. As a member of Starfleet, one assumes a certain level of risk. In the face of war, the risk goes up. Starfleet Academy is not low on recruits. That must be a good thing. The Academy works very hard to train for every contingency, to teach as much as possible for extreme proficiency and to model the discipline required for space-travel. And yet ... sometimes it's just not enough ...
One step forward.
My dress-uniform coat rests just above the knees. The dark-grey of the tunic is contrasted with white-colored piping. The shoulder pads reveal the deep blue of the Sciences department. My long scarlet hair is rolled into a bun, typical for human females of my rank. And it is my rank that allowed me to request a change in protocol. I was glad it was approved because the Galatea was my first true command. I earned the privilege to be her Captain. I earned the right to lead the crew and to make tough decisions. I thought it was a tough decision to perform this part of my duty in this way, when really it was a poor one. Admiral Quinn, in his wisdom, must have known what it would do to me and decided it would be a good lesson. One they do not teach you in the Academy.
One step forward.
It was the longest mission for Galatea: assist colonization efforts with the Paradans. We were returning home for rest and resupply when we were ambushed by Klingons. I ... we ... had no chance. Twenty-two lost in as many minutes, five more lost trying to save the ship ... the crew. Those five will get these awards resting on the table. I asked to personally deliver them to their families out of a sense of duty ... honor ... and ...
Guilt.
One step forward.
And that's the lesson: I can not assume their sacrifice is mine to own. Starfleet will take care of the families - all twenty-seven. I did my part by drafting personalized letters to them. What I'm doing now is not needed. But I felt I needed to do it.
One step forward.
Now I realize I really don't need to be here. I shouldn't be here because I'm going to lose more along the way. That's the assumption of risk everyone in Starfleet accepts.
One step forward.
I pick up a box. This one belongs to Rhonda Kealing. I remember her: always laughing and always playing practical jokes with the Engineering crew. Thel couldn't appreciate all the humor, but I let it ride nonetheless because she did boost morale. I could tell she was missed when I was in Engineering to help with repairs after the battle.
The other boxes are soon stacked in my hands and I turn toward the door. Only six steps away ... but they will be the first on the long road ahead of me.
The doors hiss open to reveal a small dimly-lit room where the lighting is reserved for the long table at the other end of the room. On a table are several small boxes, all are sealed but the contents are well-known.
I know what must be done ... and I don't want to do it. The condolences were already sent from my ready-room shortly after it all happened. That was standard procedure, but this part of the process is being altered at my request. Of the four hundred crew the Galatea started with, only 373 returned. From the missing, five received the venerable Federation Star Cluster posthumously. I guess, after six months, that is within the margin of acceptable loss.
One step forward.
'Acceptable Loss' runs counter to the idea of the preciousness of life. As a member of Starfleet, one assumes a certain level of risk. In the face of war, the risk goes up. Starfleet Academy is not low on recruits. That must be a good thing. The Academy works very hard to train for every contingency, to teach as much as possible for extreme proficiency and to model the discipline required for space-travel. And yet ... sometimes it's just not enough ...
One step forward.
My dress-uniform coat rests just above the knees. The dark-grey of the tunic is contrasted with white-colored piping. The shoulder pads reveal the deep blue of the Sciences department. My long scarlet hair is rolled into a bun, typical for human females of my rank. And it is my rank that allowed me to request a change in protocol. I was glad it was approved because the Galatea was my first true command. I earned the privilege to be her Captain. I earned the right to lead the crew and to make tough decisions. I thought it was a tough decision to perform this part of my duty in this way, when really it was a poor one. Admiral Quinn, in his wisdom, must have known what it would do to me and decided it would be a good lesson. One they do not teach you in the Academy.
One step forward.
It was the longest mission for Galatea: assist colonization efforts with the Paradans. We were returning home for rest and resupply when we were ambushed by Klingons. I ... we ... had no chance. Twenty-two lost in as many minutes, five more lost trying to save the ship ... the crew. Those five will get these awards resting on the table. I asked to personally deliver them to their families out of a sense of duty ... honor ... and ...
Guilt.
One step forward.
And that's the lesson: I can not assume their sacrifice is mine to own. Starfleet will take care of the families - all twenty-seven. I did my part by drafting personalized letters to them. What I'm doing now is not needed. But I felt I needed to do it.
One step forward.
Now I realize I really don't need to be here. I shouldn't be here because I'm going to lose more along the way. That's the assumption of risk everyone in Starfleet accepts.
One step forward.
I pick up a box. This one belongs to Rhonda Kealing. I remember her: always laughing and always playing practical jokes with the Engineering crew. Thel couldn't appreciate all the humor, but I let it ride nonetheless because she did boost morale. I could tell she was missed when I was in Engineering to help with repairs after the battle.
The other boxes are soon stacked in my hands and I turn toward the door. Only six steps away ... but they will be the first on the long road ahead of me.
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