[ A new world Corenistun II had contacted the Federation, expressed their interest in joining, and the Enterprise had been the closest ship so they'd been dispatched to handle the talks. They had been there for nearly a week, and things had been going well, considering. Only one half of the world was inhabitable, due to an unstable orbit around it's star, and the major cities were contained ecostructures. It was an impressive scientific achievement, and Spock, among a few others of the crew, had expressed an interest in understanding it.
Other parts of the world were still being colonized, though, in these little pockets of life. Most of which went off without a hitch. They came to find out, from the jeering coming down the streets one afternoon, that not all of them did. One, fairly recently, had failed catastrophically, sent out a call for help too late, and by the time a response had come---martial law had taken over. Almost half the population of that colony had been executed by the ruling body. They were still pulling together numbers of the dead.
Jim, wearing his dress greys, was beckoned away from the jeering crowds they could see from the balcony, jaw clenching hard enough to radiate pain up his face. His change in attitude from simple negotiations to a crisis situation was swift. He started asking after what relief effort was happening, where the survivors were being kept, what was being done to those responsible, and if there was anything they could do to help. They tried to block him from getting too embroiled, concerned this would hurt their chances at becoming a part of the vaunted United Federation of Planets, but he assured them that was hardly the case.
These people had a need, a great one, and if they could do something to help, they would be remiss. What kind of Federation would they be if they couldn't help those who needed it most. He tried to swallow back how much this was shaking him. Offered a smile for those press people involved, and turned his full attention to the councilor in charge. They put their heads and their resources together to right this as much as possible. The sun had gone down by the time the talks showed any sign of slowing for the day, and people began to file out. Jim's grey jacket was unbuttoned and unzipped, hanging open to show his black undershirt, and he was out on the balcony again, watching the people still milling about in the streets during the trials of those responsible. His coffee, or what passed for coffee on this world, sat about three hours cold on a desk to his left. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and he could hear the wailing of a woman not far from them.
It made him sick to his core. It dredged up old memories he tried to bury over 13 years before all this. It was one of the reasons he hadn't believed in Starfleet to start. All of those insecurities, all of that horror--- He glanced back as he saw a shape move out of the corner of his mind, and relaxed his posture a bit. ]
no subject
Other parts of the world were still being colonized, though, in these little pockets of life. Most of which went off without a hitch. They came to find out, from the jeering coming down the streets one afternoon, that not all of them did. One, fairly recently, had failed catastrophically, sent out a call for help too late, and by the time a response had come---martial law had taken over. Almost half the population of that colony had been executed by the ruling body. They were still pulling together numbers of the dead.
Jim, wearing his dress greys, was beckoned away from the jeering crowds they could see from the balcony, jaw clenching hard enough to radiate pain up his face. His change in attitude from simple negotiations to a crisis situation was swift. He started asking after what relief effort was happening, where the survivors were being kept, what was being done to those responsible, and if there was anything they could do to help. They tried to block him from getting too embroiled, concerned this would hurt their chances at becoming a part of the vaunted United Federation of Planets, but he assured them that was hardly the case.
These people had a need, a great one, and if they could do something to help, they would be remiss. What kind of Federation would they be if they couldn't help those who needed it most. He tried to swallow back how much this was shaking him. Offered a smile for those press people involved, and turned his full attention to the councilor in charge. They put their heads and their resources together to right this as much as possible. The sun had gone down by the time the talks showed any sign of slowing for the day, and people began to file out. Jim's grey jacket was unbuttoned and unzipped, hanging open to show his black undershirt, and he was out on the balcony again, watching the people still milling about in the streets during the trials of those responsible. His coffee, or what passed for coffee on this world, sat about three hours cold on a desk to his left. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and he could hear the wailing of a woman not far from them.
It made him sick to his core. It dredged up old memories he tried to bury over 13 years before all this. It was one of the reasons he hadn't believed in Starfleet to start. All of those insecurities, all of that horror--- He glanced back as he saw a shape move out of the corner of his mind, and relaxed his posture a bit. ]
Is there something on your mind, Spock?