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The Great Hall, as it was called by Starfleet personnel, had been used for a variety of purposes over the years: Academy graduation parties, diplomatic and not so diplomatic gatherings, promotions, ship commissioning ceremonies, special lectures, now and then retirement parties plus even a wedding or two. Just days ago it had been the scene of Betazed's admission to the Federation.
On the main directory in the large lobby of the Headquarters Building, the hall was listed only as room number one thousand. For today, it had a special flashing note next to the room number, indicating the space was off limits except by special invitation. In case anyone forgot that, there was a team of security guards to remind them.
This was not unusual. The Great Hall was always busy in one way or another, but what made this gathering special was who had received the invitations.
Only a select few had been asked in the first place and, of those, not all were able to attend. But the hall was nearly full and the people gathered there were very special to each other and the man they came to honor.
Today the Great Hall was decorated in a very simple manner but with painstaking care by Special Operations. Kensington himself had seen to the preparations and had checked each aspect down to the smallest detail.
The whole process had started even before the new Enterprise had left the dock. It began with a few polite inquiries and checks of old duty logs and rosters. Then, when it was confirmed that Kirk had been rescued, he put his plan into action and burned up the communication channels all over Federation space and beyond.
The Chief of Spec Ops had a lot of help, but no one complained about the long hours required to complete the work. Actually, he had only one regret, there just wasn't enough time. But looking at the finished product and the large enthusiastic group was more than enough to allow him forget any shortcomings. His thoughts were interrupted by his communicator beeping.
Making his way through the crowd of Starfleet personnel, diplomats and civilians, he approached the main entry. Here he found the honor guard consisting of representatives from the very elite groups within Starfleet: Special Forces, Marines, Security, Intelligence and the Joint Chiefs. At the head of this most illustrious group, was Admiral of the Fleet Walking Bear.
Kensington approached the Grand Admiral with just a bit of hesitance and cleared his throat with a slight 'ahem' before speaking. "Sir, Admiral Kirk should be here any minute. Transporter Centroplex just signaled. They're disembarking from Enterprise as we speak."
The highest ranking officer in Starfleet looked at Kensington and smiled, revealing a wall of gleaming white teeth. "Well done, Ken, on the whole operation. I read the preliminary report. I'm sorry about the losses but Cee and his team volunteered, they knew the risks."
Walking Bear decided to switch subjects and to avoid putting a damper on the celebration. "There will be plenty of time later to assess losses and analyze the entire operation. This reception is a splendid idea, a proper welcome home."
Kensington recovered his cheer. "Thank you, sir. I'll want to talk to you at length about everything later, but I have a few more items to attend to now, if I may?"
The elderly Amerind gave Kensington a pat on the back. "Yes, by all means. I'll have Tek schedule a meeting for later this week." Walking Bear then moved off to greet the line of senior officers who made up the Joint Chiefs.
Hurrying off to the nearest available turbolift, Kensington activated it without waiting to see if anyone else needed it, "Transporter Centroplex." The turbolift obeyed and immediately began a rapid journey to the requested destination.
The ride lasted less than a half minute and as he stepped out of the lift, a dozen smiling faces, representing the senior 'A' shift officers of the '01-B, greeted him. Immediately there was a great deal of handshaking, back slapping and congratulations of all types.
Finally, Kensington asked for their attention and the group became quiet, only the smiles remained. "I'm very proud of you and quite pleased as well. It would not have been possible without any one of you and certainly, all of you made a difference.
"Starfleet will need to completely debrief each of you at a later date. My office will contact you as to when, but right now, I have a big surprise."
He turned to the transporter chief, "Everything ready?"
The transporter chief gave the thumbs up. All was set. It meant that Kirk, Spock and McCoy were already on the way to the reception by a 'slow' turbolift.
Turning back to the group he explained, "I couldn't notify you of this while you were on the way as it would have breached my 'security' set up. Right now you're on the way to a very special reception. Please enjoy yourself. The rest of the crew will join you as soon as the relief personnel are assigned." He turned to the transporter chief and nodded, "Energize, please."
As the group faded in the transporter effect, Kensington noted that all of the smiles were still intact.
The group of rescuers materialized in the main corridor, just outside the Great Hall. The timing was impeccable. No sooner had they arrived, than the doors to a turbolift opened and out stepped Kirk, Spock, McCoy.
Kirk was genuinely surprised at first, then, a 'what's going on here' look came over his face. Before he could comment, he was ushered around the corner and brought to a halt, just in front of the official honor guard.
The officers, who represented the various branches of Starfleet, snapped to attention. Beyond the honor guard and through the oversized double doors of the entrance, James T. Kirk saw an ocean of familiar faces. It was then that he realized that McCoy was giving him an elbow to move forward.
As the small group entered the massive room, the crowd broke out into 'For he's a jolly good fellow.' The flood of emotions, were almost too much to take. Gathered before Kirk were the faces of former crewmembers, old friends and comrades. Each represented various stages of his adult life, but mostly from Starfleet: Doctor M'Benga, Farrell, Hadley, Osborne, Singh and other crewpersons, not to mention a former Federation President.
One person nearly brought him to tears, Doctor Gillian Taylor. The former Assistant Director of the Cetacean Institute was now Director of Cetacean Studies at the Federation Science Academy.
Gillian moved forward as the singing began to fade and gave her favorite Starfleet officer a big welcome home hug and kiss. The crowd cheered and then the party began in earnest.
For the rest of the afternoon, Kirk shook hands and exchanged greetings with almost three hundred old friends and acquaintances. Maybe the word old was a little too close to the truth. Being in captivity for almost eight years had added to that perception considerably.
Meanwhile, McCoy was true to his word. Sebor, Rameriz and Berkley arrived, all smiles and officially cleared for duty. Later, many people would comment that the recently released patients seemed to enjoy the party more than anyone else, even Sebor!
Over the next few hours, Kirk moved slowly through the gathering of friends, and in a short time he lost track of McCoy and Spock in the shuffle of bodies. Eventually he found himself standing in front of a large table furnished liberally with all types of food and drink.
He selected a rather unusual looking libation, but before he could take a sip, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he saw an older North American Native, with the rank of Admiral of the Fleet. Kirk remembered the man as a senior officer and a former ship's captain. He had now risen to the highest position and justifiably so. On the ancient face was a smile which seemed to be a mix of relief and gratitude. James wasn't sure if the Grand Admiral was happier about the return of the captives or that the mission hadn't ended in a total disaster.
"Kirk, it is really good to see you, alive and well. I am sorry about Shaya-tar, Rya and the others. However, overall I think the mission was a great success."
Remaining silent for a moment, Kirk reflected on his luck in the face of so much death and tragedy, even going back to where it all started, on the Vikrant.
"What's wrong? There are so many here, happy to see you and Rameriz and grateful for your return." Walking Bear studied the man closely.
A faraway look was transfixed on Kirk's face as he spoke. The words came slowly as if it hurt to verbalize his thoughts. "I was thinking about those who couldn't make it for this gathering." He nodded slightly towards the people assembled in his honor, but his eyes were fixed and unfocused.
The Grand Admiral was surprised by the apparent disappointment. "Jim, Kensington and a lot of other people worked twenty-five hour days to get as many people here as possible. Considering the short notice, I thought Starfleet did a very good job --"
Shaking his head slowly back and forth, James Kirk still looked out of sorts as he interrupted Walking Bear. "No, sir, I was thinking about those who couldn't be here because..." He left the thought and sentence unfinished, then tried to begin anew. "I lost David too; I couldn't do anything to help him or others." He became silent and shifted his look to the untouched drink in his hand. He took a deep drought and then leaned back on the nearby table.
As a senior officer, Walking Bear understood only too well what Kirk was feeling and why. Responsibility for all those in his charge was a very large part of the burden of command. But Kirk's problem was much more complex. He had been one of only two who had survived the Romulan captivity, while five others had been lost in the rescue attempt. It was a double burden, survivor's guilt and command. Time and events were catching up with Kirk after his captivity and the after effects only added to the problem.
Walking Bear lowered his voice and revealed the deep empathy he felt. "Jim, I know just how you feel. I lost my only son, Dawson, years ago. He knew the risks associated with duty in space. Still, he wanted to go. He was drawn like a moth to the flame. Ultimately that analogy wasn't far from reality."
Kirk was stunned, "I had no idea."
"It happened while you were... away. Dawson often spoke about you. After all, your ship was his first assignment. You created quite an impression on him, too. What struck him most about you was your compassion and caring about each crewmember. He noticed how you felt the loss of each one personally."
Not sure that his words were getting through to the man, the senior Starfleet officer continued. "Kirk, have you ever reviewed official loss records for first contact ships?"
Kirk's face now registered genuine reactions, surprise and curiosity.
Walking Bear smiled a bit like a father who was trying to explain a basic lesson in life to a young child. "You really should check them sometime. I'll bet you don't know the name of the commanding officer with the lowest crew loss rate in Starfleet history."
When Kirk failed to hazard a guess, the Grand Admiral supplied the answer. "His name is James T. Kirk"
The former captive smiled at the sound of his own name.
Walking Bear grinned in triumph, "Gotcha' Kirk!"
Kirk relented, "Okay, but it still doesn't make it any easier."
Now, Walking Bear put his hand firmly on the man's shoulder, "And that's what makes a good command officer and an excellent starship captain. As far as I'm concerned, when it does get easy, that officer is no longer command material!"
Nodding slowly in agreement Kirk accepted the complement and the point, "Touche, sir!"
He took another large swallow of his drink. It neither tasted good, nor had the desired effect. In fact, it hit him a lot harder than he had expected or wanted.
Lines of concern began to show on Walking Bear's face. "You okay, Kirk?" The Grand Admiral quickly scanned the room. In one corner he saw Doctor McCoy with Chapel, M'Benga and Tavar. He waved to them, but the foursome seemed quite engrossed in some topic.
DeSalle noticed the 'Old Man' and figured out who was the object of the waving and gesturing. The Academy instructor tugged lightly on McCoy's sleeve then directed the doctor's gaze towards the Admiral of the Fleet. The other doctors followed McCoy's line of vision at the same time and all realized the problem.
The group then made their way through the crowd quickly, without any apologies for spilled drinks or interrupted conversations. McCoy was muttering the entire way, vocalizing his concern by complaining, as usual. "Damned stupid idea. I should have known this would happen. He needs rest not a party. Why doesn't Starfleet consult with a doctor before planning something like this?"
By the time they reached Kirk's location, it was all too obvious that the former captive was not at all well. Walking Bear and Rand were doing their best to keep him upright as a collection of concerned onlookers had started to gather.
McCoy turned to Tavar, "Is this related to the long-term stasis captivity?"
The Romulan didn't divert his attention from Kirk. "Probably, but it could be just plain fatigue or too much excitement. Then he looked at Kirk's hand and pointed at the drink, "Or too much of that!"
Kirk suddenly realized he was the focus of attention and tried to regain control of the situation. He pulled away from Walking Bear and Janice, instantly realizing his mistake. As the drink fell out of his hand, McCoy grabbed Kirk's arm firmly. "C'mon, Jim, it's time to go home."
Confused and slightly overwhelmed, Kirk reacted out of character. "And just where the hell would that be, Doctor?" The question was laced with sarcasm and more than a little pain.
Recognizing that his friend was in need of immediate care; McCoy took charge and announced a plan of action. "We're going to my place, if I can get some help."
At that statement, Rand produced a communicator and handed it to McCoy. She smiled slightly. "It's the only way to travel if you're a single lady in a room full of drinking men, present company excepted." She gave her old friend a wink. "I use it for quick exits."
"Janice, you're an angel," McCoy said. He flipped open the device open and received an immediate acknowledging signal from the Enterprise.
"Enterprise here, how may I assist you?"
"This is Doctor McCoy. Prepare to beam up a party of three on my next signal, I have an emergency."
"Aye, sir, I'll notify the transporter room at once!"
Looking at Tavar, McCoy asked politely, "Would you join us, Doctor? I'd like another opinion and a second pair of eyes."
The quiet Romulan bowed slightly, obviously flattered by the request, "By all means."
The group of curious and concerned onlookers, backed off in preparation for the beam-up. McCoy raised the communicator to call for transport. As he did, he noticed all of those at the celebration wore looks of worry and each rendered a traditional hand salute, including Walking Bear.
Kirk saw it, too, and was struck by the scene.
McCoy spoke in a business-like manner. "Tight pattern, transport, we're in a crowded room; whenever you're ready."
He tossed the communicator back to Rand and smiled then began to feel the familiar tingle of the transporter. He was about to express his 'feelings' for the device, but caught himself.
The three figures faded with the familiar shimmer and suddenly the room was quiet. All those present concluded the honor salute and returned to their celebration, if somewhat subdued. They knew Kirk would be fine. After all, he would get the best care, even if McCoy had to sit on him!
Chapel realized that she was crying, despite a smile on her face or maybe because of it. She also knew James T. Kirk was in good hands. After wiping her eyes, she turned her attention back to her friends.
Rand rejoined Rameriz and never left his side for the remainder of the day, a position which would become permanent much sooner than she anticipated.
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© 2024 Brad McDonald / U.S.S. Kitty Hawk
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