nexus_sages | (no subject)

He crashed a starship into a planet. Into a city on that planet.

*She gives a wince and takes a pull of her drink. She put a starship on a collision course with a planet, once. Happily, cleanup is running ahead of schedule, and the hemisphere she hit is expected to be habitable again in another twenty years. That's on the scale of what she's imagining at the moment.*

"Yeah," he says, taking a long drink from his glass. "Took out most of downtown. I don't know exactly how many casualties there were, but it was thousands dead at least. Tens of thousands lost homes or jobs. Even my own apartment's buried under it somewhere."

Thousands dead.

*Alright, she needs to adjust her mental image of what happened.*

Alright. From the top, then. What went wrong on that mission, and how can you prevent it in the future?

He did mention it earlier, but she's more than forgiven for forgetting, because Jim has too. And it's probably a good thing he doesn't know what her assumption was, because then he might not be able to stop thinking about how much worse it would have been if the Vengeance's warp core had breached in the crash.

It takes Jim a moment to realize that by 'the mission,' she doesn't mean going after Khan. "The survey mission?" God, it seems like a lifetime ago. But he can still hear Pike's blistering reprimand like it was yesterday. I wouldn't have risked my first officer's life in the first place. "We were supposed to observe this pre-industrial humanoid culture from a distance, absolutely no interference, but they had a volcano in their backyard about to blow. We came up with a plan to stop it by cooling it off with this device Spock rigged up, but the ash screwed up the shuttle and he got stranded setting it up. I sent the Enterprise to go get him and the natives saw us, so I lied in my report and said nothing happened. Got caught because Spock didn't."

This brandy really is great stuff, blunting the edge of his self-recrimination and letting him try to look at it more objectively. "It was the falsified report that got me demoted, but that wasn't the only thing I could've done different. We could've rigged up a remote delivery system, or put it in a torpedo or something. We could've tried to relocate the natives with point-to-point beaming, maybe knocked them out first, and just let the volcano do its thing. We never even called Command for permission or other ideas because we assumed the answer would be no." He pauses for a moment, but he's unable to dismiss one of the last things Pike ever told him. "Or we could've done nothing, like we were supposed to." It doesn't sit well with him, and it probably never will. But it was an option, and he has to include it.

Edited 2017-06-24 12:11 (UTC)

*She sniffs derisively at the suggestion of doing nothing.*

Don't apologize for saving lives, you weren't sent into space to see if volcanoes kill people.

*She shakes her head a little, then turns to another part of his explanation.*

While there were certainly options, I'd say the chief mistake there was in making a questionable choice--falsifying your report--without ensuring you had the support and cooperation of your crew. Again, I'll ask: how much advice do you want? Because I could go into some depth on this.

In some ways, the cocky, arrogant part of him is what died down in the warp core, the part of him that always felt he had to prove himself by finding his own solutions without relying on other people's ideas, as if that somehow meant he was better. And she's not the one he really wants to have this conversation with. But the one he does is dead, and he's done ignoring legitimate criticism of his command style and attitude, not when it got so many people killed, and him too. "I won't be a good captain if I don't learn to listen to those with more experience than me," he answers, aware that he probably won't like at least some of what he hears. He hadn't liked Pike's scathing lecture, Spock's criticisms, Bones' objections, or Scotty's very real reservations about taking on a shipment of unknown, classified tech. And look where disregarding them got him.

Edited 2017-06-24 15:41 (UTC)

*She gives a slight nod, accepting his answer, and fixes him with a level gaze. This isn't the glare of a scolding--rather, she is laying out the elements and mechanisms of a philosophy in line with her own that she thinks would suit him.*

Then on that point, my first advice is: own what you do. Yes, you broke a rule by interfering, and yes, your first officer's life was at risk. So what? The rule that can't be flexible enough to save lives isn't worth honoring in the first place, and risk is your people's job. You didn't order your first officer into certain death against his will, did you? So. It wasn't wrong until you admitted it was wrong by trying to hide it, and hiding it told people you thought it was wrong.

*She's just said a mouthful, so she takes a sip of her drink while that settles in.*

Second point: you were caught in a lie because you didn't coordinate with your first officer. If you're going to lie on a report--and yes, sometimes that will be necessary, for a variety of reasons--then you need to know what's going to be in the other reports on the subject. If your subordinates won't coordinate with you on the lie, then you need to work around what they're putting in their reports. You need to know your crew, what they think, how they feel, and you need to earn their loyalty. A loyal subordinate may not agree with your decision to, say, falsify a report, but they will know you well enough to believe that whatever odd thing you're doing is well-meant, and done for the best possible good.

*Another sip, a quicker one.*

Yes, you need to earn their loyalty. You command by rank, but your crew are people and they'll only follow you into danger if they believe in you. You're the captain of a starship; the day will come when you have to look one of your crew in the eyes and tell them to go die in the line of duty. It'll come again and again. Your crew will watch their friends die at your order; before they do, you need every last one of them to trust that those orders only come when every other alternative is worse. They need to know that you, personally, will be doing everything in your power to ensure that their lives aren't wasted--that you'll save them if anyone can, and that if you don't, no one could have.

She did him the courtesy of listening to his rundown of the whole clusterfuck without interrupting, and he does the same as she speaks, just listening. And he was right; he wants to object to some of what she says, a lifetime of defensive habits saying that he needs to justify his actions, to lean on his own assumptions and beliefs that make him feel better about himself. But he does none of that. He just sits, and drinks, and listens to every word that she says, forcing himself to face the pretty undeniable fact that he doesn't know everything, and that continuing on as he has been without learning from his mistakes will only lead to disaster. And while he knows that she isn't infallible either, that he shouldn't simply place blind faith in what someone else tells him, there's certainly enough sense in what she says that it's not worth dismissing.

Besides, he did ask for it.

At the very least, some of the things he's hearing are things that he's never heard from Starfleet counselors. And though it's uncomfortable under her stare, it's far more tolerable than the rage and almost paternal disappointment in Pike's eyes, during the dressing-down in the admiral's office.

He's silent for several moments after she finishes, just trying to absorb all that and see things from her perspective. "So my biggest mistake there was not realizing that Spock and I weren't on the same page. And why."

*He takes it well, and she approves. No few people have asked for her brand of wisdom in the Nexus and then instantly rejected it. Jim is at least thinking.*

That, and hiding what you did, yes. If you had placed the account in your report, you would have controlled how your superiors received it. You would have framed the narrative--controlled the ground on which you engaged them. Instead of diverting and dividing them with questions of the morality of a sit-and-let-die rule or which of your officers are to be commended for their particular actions during the mission, you were ambushed and the only subject on the field was "Jim Kirk hid his actions in shame." Shame is an admission of guilt, you handed your enemy the win in that engagement.

Jim hadn't thought about his actions as being motivated by shame, but it burns in him now. He opens his mouth to protest, and deliberately closes it again without speaking. Think before you say something, Kirk. This is how you got into this mess.

"I gave them nothing to even debate," he agrees, once he's reflected on it for a few moments. "With Spock's report, it was clear-cut that I lied. They'd made up their minds before we even got back to Earth, way too late to explain or defend myself."

*She nods, letting slip a sly smile.*

Exactly. Always control the terms of the engagement. A report to your superiors is as much a battle as any other--fight to win.

A few months ago, if she'd told him to treat reporting to his superiors like facing an enemy, he would've laughed and ignored the advice. But after what Admiral Marcus did, it's already a surprisingly literal reality. "I pretty much always do," he says instead, "but I think part of the problem is I didn't know which battle I was really fighting."

*Her smile grows, encouraging.*

And now?

"Now... I think I get that old saying about winning the battle but losing the war." He sighs a little, trying to put it into words. "It's... not enough to just be justified, and rely on nothing else. I have to anticipate how others will react, not just focus in on the immediate risks and consequences. Even from my own camp." Whether that means his crew or Command doesn't really matter, as the same idea applies both ways.

Good.

*She finishes her drink, pours another, and offers to do the same for Jim.*

Moving on. You got to the meeting. Tell me about what you and your ship did to prepare.

He'll gladly take another. It's a bit weird, drowning his sorrows like this, but the extra ammo in the fight against such a depressing topic is a fair trade-off for the clarity of thought he wouldn't have if this was alcohol.

"Aside from some minor repair work, the Enterprise was still pretty much mission-ready already. No need to take on provisions or supplies, just the torpedoes we'd been ordered to take. I don't... actually know what most of the crew did." It's embarrassing to admit, and he's sure that grief is no excuse. "I know my chief engineer was helping scour the wreckage of the jumpship for clues on where Khan went. Everything onboard was... pretty standard. Preflight checks and that sort of thing."

No.

*Her tone firms up again, and it's lesson time. This one might hurt, but it's also probably mostly not Jim's fault.*

During the meeting. Where was your ship while its commander and first officer were in a meeting with other command elements in the wake of a bombing? Who had overwatch on the meeting site? Who was analyzing comm chatter, or traffic patterns, or standing ready to provide cover fire? Where was the security, and why wasn't your ship working independently and in tandem with local forces to shore it up?

*Still, a learning point is a learning point.*

He's a little taken aback by that. It's not like they're unreasonable questions or anything, but most of them honestly hadn't crossed his mind. "I don't... I didn't know what had happened until we were in the briefing. We were less than five minutes into it, including getting our orders on where and how to deploy our ships, when everything went to hell."

*He hadn't known, and she can't fault him for that. It's clear from her expression that someone dropped the ball, however.*

Lessons learned, then. Whenever anyone from your ship goes planetside, have some people keeping an eye on sensors, some ready to offer supporting fire or cover an evac. I don't care if it's a meeting at headquarters or shore leave on a pleasure planet, have someone watching your back and your people's back every single time.

*She takes a sip, relaxing a little from the intensity that lecture had developed.*

That policy will reap you dividends of loyalty, as well. It's a sign to your crew that you care, that you stand ready to back them up or pull them to safety at a moment's notice. You mentioned "beaming," I assume that's some sort of teleportation system--how effective would Khan's attack have been if all those ships in orbit started beaming up VIPs when the shooting started?

He's not so sure that it won't come off as paranoia instead, an overreaction to one threat that's come and gone. But it is a reasonable precaution, since an attack did happen, and it's not like he can't bring it up to his senior officers and get their opinions on the idea before implementing any such policy.

Assuming his reinstatement as captain stays permanent, anyway.

He looks conflicted as he listens, but doesn't disagree either. And her question makes him consider his answer, rewinding his memories to the chaos that had erupted in Daystrom Conference Room when the windows exploded. "It is, yeah... it takes a few seconds to lock on. We would still have taken casualties, just not as many." He doesn't know who got shot when, having lost track of most of the officers in the confusion, too focused on getting out of the line of fire and finding a way to stop the threat.

*Samus strongly advocates a healthy degree of paranoia. Nine times out of ten, or ninety-nine out of a hundred, or nine hundred ninety-nine out of a thousand, that paranoia won't be needed... but the one time it is makes it all worthwhile. Isn't that the way most safety systems work?*

In reducing casualties, you already begin to steal your enemy's victory from him. Think about your enemy's mind, his emotional stability--when he saw his targets slipping out of reach, to shelter or medical attention, do you think he might have been distracted by anger?

Jim doesn't particularly like to think of Khan's mindset, but he is pretty sure he knows the answer to this one. "I don't think so. He was... scarily smart. And very adaptive. He probably had all sorts of contingency plans." He saw enough proof of that in the way that Khan manipulated everyone, giving just enough truth to sow doubt and just enough deception to get him on the bridge of the Vengeance.

Alright, so you may not have succeeded at an emotional attack in that case. You'd still be reducing casualties, and forcing an enemy to move to a contingency plan can also be a minor victory. People tend to open with their best plan, and each contingency they resort to cuts off some of their other options.

He doesn't find any reason to disagree with that, at least. "Starfleet also could've been more proactive in the first place. Even just a shield generator would've made a difference. Putting high-ranking officers all in one specific place, with only ground-based security... I didn't figure it out fast enough. But no one else in that room acted like they even thought about it until I pointed it out."

Exactly. Even an interior room would have been a better concession to security than you had. For a meeting of commanders in the wake of a bombing, it was careless, and whoever organized it deserves to feel a share of the guilt for those deaths.

*Some agreement and critical analysis of others might, hopefully, help alleviate some of the sting of this conversation. She takes another sip.*

That said, I'd urge you to take this as a lesson in the future about not assuming local security can tell its ass from its sidearm and keep your own people on alert. Maybe they won't catch anything local security doesn't, but that extra layer of attention and preparedness has potential rewards far beyond the cost.