"Y"

[Joe Manning 0]

Joe Manning looked over the queue of ships outside Starbase 18, all carrying prisoners for transfer back to Earth. This was a time of joy for most of the Federation's citizens -- the Civil War was over. For the people being held in the brigs of those starships, the end of the conflict provided a rather more unpleasant taste. High-ranking Starfleet officers on both sides were being ushered to Headquarters so that their insubordination over the past eight years could be reviewed. Half of them, at least, could take comfort in knowing that their side had won the war and that the Federation would soon be undergoing drastic policy changes. The other half could not even enjoy bittersweet victory.

 

The inside of Joe's own brig cell had been a chamber for quiet reflection of the past eight years and for contemplation of however many years were left in his future.

 

Commodore Rolen's reflection stepped onto the viewport in front of Joe. "Commander Manning?"

 

"'Commander?'" Joe repeated, not bothering to turn around. "That mean I still have my rank?"

 

The Commodore stepped beside Joe, joining him in surveying the fleet outside the station. "Very few officers are going to be dragged over the coals, as I understand it. Heads will roll, make no mistake ... but they'll all be big heads -- the Admirals who ignored Sawyer's standing orders, the Captains who extracted themselves from the chain of command to take one side or another, and of course Commodore DiAngelo. His court-martial will be quite the spectacle, I'm sure; the Andorians will want an example made of him. But the rest of you complicate matters. It will be next to impossible to determine which officers were willfully breaking the chain and which were simply following the orders of Captains and Admirals who were breaking it, so you'll mostly get off with a stern warning."

 

"You left out the most important factor, Commodore," Joe replied sardonically. "Maybe the only one worth mentioning. Starfleet needs us too much."

 

Rolen forced a smile and hesitated to answer. "The years to come are going to be difficult. We've lost a lot of ships and a lot of good men over the past twenty years. And you might imagine that the common folks aren't going to be too keen to sign up for Starfleet service after all of this; Academy enrollment is going to be pretty stark for a few years."

 

"And how will -that- problem be addressed, Commodore?" Joe turned his head to look at Rolen. "As soon as the Council hands the Admiralty a quota for Starfleet recruitment ... will the Admiralty do whatever it takes to meet that quota? Will the Academy's standards for graduation start being loosened too? Their standards for acceptance? There's already talk that the Academy Chiefs are going to start exploring 'other avenues' of recruitment ... as in they won't be so averse anymore to overlooking applicants' criminal records."

 

"I highly doubt it's going to come to that," Rolen replied. "It's a big galaxy; I'm sure we'll find plenty of people willing to enter service."

 

"Yeah," Joe looked back at the viewport. "Especially when you start setting up recruitment centers on pre-warp worlds."

 

"You'll want to be careful about what you say in the coming months, Joe," Rolen cautioned. "Depending on how Captain Morrison's hearing goes, you could end up a prime candidate to assume command of the Gettysburg. But Command is going to be extra-careful about how they choose their -- "

 

"Are you serious, Commodore?" Joe turned to face Rolen. "You're telling me that a man's -opinions- are going to be reviewed as criteria for command now?"

 

"I know it may sound that way, Commander," Rolen shook his head and shifted uncomfortably. "But that's not it at all. Command is simply anticipating the aftershocks of this conflict. There are going to be a lot of folks on edge in the coming months, years even. They do not want strongly opinionated people holding command-level positions ... at least for a little while. They want officers who are going to be focused on getting Starfleet back on track, not anyone who might take a ship off and start a new revolution somewhere on the outskirts."

 

"Yeah, isn't that always how it starts?" Joe asked rhetorically. "Tell me, Commodore, why I would be interested in assuming command of Gettysburg? With everything Starfleet has been through, with all the changes that the new Council are going to bring ... why would I even want to remain a part of Starfleet?"

 

"What are you saying, Joe?" Rolen asked, facing him.

 

"I'm saying that there are things that are far more important to me right now," Joe answered. "Now that the war is over, Starfleet Command has found it within their hearts to turn over all the personal correspondence they've been witholding. When I stopped hearing from my wife and kid, I didn't know what to assume, and Command wouldn't listen to any of my inquiries. Now I've suddenly gotten all my wife's letters from the past two years, and I've missed quite a bit of the family news. My son ... he's gotten himself into trouble."

 

"Trouble?" Rolen asked. "I could send a ship to bring them back here, Joe. Where are they?"

 

"The Hyades cluster," Joe answered. "A lot of refugees started heading that way when the war started; I figured it was a much safer place for them, so I sent them out on one of the first passenger liners to the cluster. But it turns out not all the company has been great. The word I'm getting is that a new society is springing up out there ... and every society has its underbelly."

 

"It's a long way to the Hyades cluster, Joe," Rolen said. "And Command's drawn most of the fleet in to the core territories. But staying neutral through the war has left me with a few strings to pull. I'll try to get a ship sent out -- "

 

"No, Commodore," Joe cut in. "If my wife's letters are any indication, my son isn't going to be too thrilled about being brought back. I'm not even sure this is the best place for them anyway. I'm not sure it's the best place for me. I'm going to go find them."

 

"Joe ... " Rolen tried to look sympathetic. "I understand that a man's family has to come first. But I'm asking you to understand that Starfleet needs every good officer right now; you can trust my people to --"

 

"I'm sure they'd do their best, Commodore," Joe lowered his head. "And I know that Starfleet can't allow me to hunt down my family on the fringes of Federation space. If anything ... it makes my decision a lot easier." He looked back up at the Commodore. "This war ending doesn't mean Starfleet's found its way again, Commodore. And I don't think it will any time soon. I'm going to have to hand in my resignation."

 

"Please don't, Joe," Rolen replied. He agreed with most of what Manning was saying, but had to remain the impartial mediator, as he had tried to for the past eight years. "You're on the cusp of command, and you'll make a damn fine CO. Admiral Sawyer still runs Starfleet; give him a chance to work with the new Council, to try to keep the old principles in tact."

 

"Captain Morrison is going to be court-martialed for defending those principles," Joe said. "Can you tell me now that he's going to retain command of Gettysburg?"

 

Rolen only frowned in resignation. Joe nodded slowly. "Then the good Admiral has a lot of work to do. I can't afford to stick around waiting for him. I'm sorry, Commodore."

 

As Joe circled around to the docking bay's exit, Rolen turned to him and called out. "I hear they've renamed one of the colonies out in the Hyades star cluster." Joe stopped and looked back at him. "Here's hoping you find Tranquility."