"Command"

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

In these times, crises cannot be managed, and wars cannot be waged by committee.

~G. R. Ford

"Command"

Cmdr Jami Farrington leaned her knuckled fists on the conference table and pounded it in frustration. How the hell did this . . . this kid . . . ever graduate from the academy? What idiot accepted him in Black OPS? And how did he ever get aboard Manticore?

Rhetorical questions. One of the most brilliant scientific minds to ever enter the academy had come up for grabs, so who could have blamed her? Manticore's constant tangency with scientific conundra demanded the most brilliant divergent minds. She had gone over a few heads, pulled more than one string. . . .

 

But he was too young, too inexperienced, and much too undisciplined - and she should have known. She should have seen this coming. Even basic Indoc training seemed to elude him. He had little restraint and even less command conference deportment. But the bottom line - what worried Second Officer Jami Farrington the most - was his contempt for discipline. His brilliant mind aside, if he questioned an order in the heat of battle or at any crucial point in a mission he could put the entire crew in danger. Anyone who had no discipline, no proper respect for authority, regardless, was a danger to ship and crew. And she was ultimately responsible for him being aboard.

 

Damn.

 

She slammed her palms onto the table, then drew herself into a straight thinking posture with a little pacing thrown in for good measure. She was responsible. Deal with it.

 

Still pacing, she steeled herself for objectivity and reviewed the computer's visual record.

 

"There is a point where avenging the deaths of colleagues turns into personal revenge," Escher had said to the Admiral. " I am afraid that your suggestion crosses that line. . . . Black Ops is one thing, Admiral. This is personal, and it endangers the lives of the crew for no good reason, not even Starfleet's dirty work. This is just you. . . . I will go over the edge if I have to prevent stupid and pointless decisions." And to Jami, "You are his wife . . . . do not let this escalate."

 

Slander. Threats. Dismissive wave of the hand towards a superior officer. Turning his back on a superior officer. Storming out of a conference. Failure to show proper restraint . . .

 

Second Officer Cmdr Jami Farrington remained in the conference room for some time, composing a full report and a summary of the charges to be brought against Lt Cmdr Malcolm Escher, Chief of Science. Only once before had she brought charges. It was a most heinous duty, but necessary to the survival of the crew. After several revisions Jami forwarded it to Captain Sovak, Executive Officer, for his disposition.

 

Uniform Code of Military Justice, Subchapter 10: Punitive Articles,

Sec. 917, Art. 117: Provoking or reproachful words or gestures - two counts.

Sec. 889, Art. 89: Disrespect toward a superior commissioned officer - two counts.

Sec. 933, Art 133: Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman - multiple counts.

Sec. 934, Art 134: prejudice of good order and discipline - multiple counts.

 

Upon entering the bridge she noticed Mr. Escher sitting at science, his face still brooking defiance. Years of experience taught command personnel to shift masks as the situation required, so Jami had already assumed her controlled command demeanor. She could step from frenetic emergency surgery and change her disposition instantly to suit the bedside of a dying crewman. She had learned to change her deportment from disciplinarian, to Second Officer, to ship's counselor almost instantly, as the situation demanded. Not that she relished the ability. It enabled her to cope with the responsibility of command, and sometimes gave her a more objective view of situations. As though the previous few hours had never happened, Jami nodded politely and crossed the bridge to the counselor's position.

 

It was the mask engaged your mind,

And after set your heart to beat,

Not what's behind.

~Wm. Butler Yeats