The Debrief – Judgment Comes First – Star Trek Fanfiction (Red Directive #51)

I stood outside Ops at oh-eight-hundred hours.
Incredibly early for the entire crew’s briefing with Commander Sisko.
After my run-in with Commander Darak last night, I went straight to my quarters and informed the crew to submit their reports.
They were not pleased about turning in their personal logs, but it is not as though I had a choice.
I spent most of the remainder of the evening compiling my own report of our Red Directive mission to EOS Prospera.
If I was not decommissioned, I would almost certainly be demoted.
That assessment was… unfavorable.
If Starfleet exercised proper judgment, they would analyze the data before making any determination regarding my rank or position.

I stood in the corridor and observed as the early maintenance crews of Deep Space Nine carried out their duties.
Members of the station’s senior staff passed as well during duty shift transitions.
Jadzia Dax. Chief O’Brien. Kira Nerys. Constable Odo. And Commander Sisko.
I had been invited inside, but I chose to wait for the rest of the crew to enter together.
I also intended to ensure we were aligned before we did so.
I could not permit any variable to jeopardize my commission.

Once the corridor quieted, I leaned back against the cool, curved metal of the wall and closed my eyes.
I allowed the low, constant hum of the station’s fusion reactors to guide me into a meditative state.

I found the trance… effective.

Until I felt a familiar hand make contact with the one not holding my PADD.

My cardiac rhythm elevated.

I opened my eyes—more quickly than I would have preferred—to find Commander Darak standing before me.

Not unexpected.

We had always arrived early. Together.
A pattern established since the formation of our crew.
It may have contributed to our… connection.

I did not immediately speak.

Silence extended between us beyond what was appropriate as our gazes remained fixed.
There were numerous statements I could have made.

A portion of my mind advised restraint.

He leaned back against the opposite wall, offering no verbal response.
His expression was… displeasing.

I observed him closely.

He required an explanation.

I did not possess one.

I chose to speak regardless.

I had just initiated the action when the remainder of the crew began to arrive behind him.
I halted.

Darak noted the shift in my expression and turned to identify the cause.
A quiet exhale escaped him before he redirected his attention—this time to his PADD.

Kurn arrived first, striking his chest once before taking position beside Darak.
Commander Pelia followed immediately behind. “You ready for this beat down, Captain?”

“I am prepared for all outcomes, Commander. However, I do not anticipate that particular one.”

Morale required maintenance.

Pelia scoffed and moved past me, joining the wall beside Kurn.
Drim approached more slowly, offering a brief salute before taking his place with the others.

Ensign Jaxa and Chief Ren arrived last.

The crew was assembled.

I tapped my comm badge as the corridor fell silent. “Computer, time.”

“It is approximately zero-eight forty-five hundred hours.”

My meditative state had exceeded projected duration.

At the announcement, the crew straightened, their attention shifting to me.

Awaiting orders.

Orders that would soon no longer be mine to give.

“I anticipate each of you has submitted a complete report of our Red Directive mission and brought all logs, including personal entries.”

They nodded—fatigue evident.

“I am aware such requests are atypical of Starfleet protocol. Under these circumstances, however, compliance was required.”

Muted reactions followed. I continued.

“I assume you understand my reason for waiting here.”

No responses. Only scrutiny.

“I do not expect anything less than complete accuracy in your reports.”

I paused, ensuring full attention.

“I wish to confirm that we are unified in our account of the escape plan, the resulting modifications to the USS Cairo, and the destruction of EOS Prospera as the only logical resolution to prevent further loss of life.”

Commander Pelia was the only one to respond. “Further loss? You got that right.”

She approached, her expression set. “I am going to tell them exactly what happened, Captain. You can interpret it however you want. I, personally, have had enough of Starfleet after this.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder before proceeding into Ops.

Her meaning was… ambiguous.

Unlikely to be favorable.

The rest of the crew followed one at a time.

Only Kurn paused.

Even Darak continued forward without acknowledgment.

Kurn stopped at the threshold. “Captain Kelly took a warrior’s death. It is a warrior who steps forward to lead.”

I inclined my head and followed him inside.

We proceeded to the second command level, where the briefing room was located.
The crew had already taken their seats.
Commander Sisko stood at the head of the table, Constable Odo at his side.

I approached. He spoke first. “Thank you for joining us, Captain.”

A trace of sarcasm was present.

“Good morning, Commander Sisko.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

He inhaled, clasped his hands together with an audible strike, then rubbed them.
Expressive. As expected.

I took my seat.

Prepared.

He began. “As you all know, Starfleet has requested full reports of your Red Directive mission to EOS Prospera. All logs. Including personal.”

He scanned the room as PADDs were passed forward.

“I have already been briefed by your current commanding captain.”

A deliberate glance toward me.

“And I have reported that information to Starfleet.”

A few restrained reactions followed.

“Most of you already have your reassignments. I will give those out this morning. As for the rest of you…”

A faint, almost amused smirk crossed his face—directed specifically at me. “You’ll remain here with me until Starfleet has had sufficient time to properly analyze the data and determine your next assignment…”

He paused, holding my gaze.

“If there is one.”

That was all I required to assess the most probable outcome.

The logical conclusion: Starfleet would decommission me for the loss of my captain, a crewmember, and nearly seven hundred colonists on my first Red Directive mission.

I concealed the resulting disappointment behind my usual Vulcan composure.

From my peripheral, several seats across the table, I caught Commander Darak’s gaze.

He was not allowing last night’s… unresolved departure to deter his persistence.

Noted.

I did not intend for us to be reassigned without further words exchanged.

Commander Sisko continued, “As for those reassignments.”

He retrieved his PADD from the table. “Kurn, you were serving as a Klingon Defense Force Exchange Officer. You may return to Qo’noS. If Starfleet requires any further clarification during their investigation, they will contact you. You are dismissed, if you wish, Officer.”

Kurn remained seated, making it clear he would not move for the duration of the proceedings—an act of solidarity with his fellow crewmembers.

A distinctly Klingon trait.

Commander Sisko gave a small nod of approval and continued. “Drim, return to Ferenginar and report to the Ferengi Alliance. Starfleet will contact you if additional information is required. You may also be dismissed.”

Drim did not move.

Nothing this crew did was strictly logical.

Unless my interpretation of them had been… incomplete.

Highly unlikely.

Commander Sisko nodded again, this time with a more questioning expression, and continued. “Chief Ren, you were technically never a part of Starfleet. As far as they’re concerned, you are free to return to Andoria and rejoin the Imperial Guard.”

Chief Ren rose immediately, posture precise. “Commander Sisko, sir. It would be my honor to become a part of Starfleet—to follow in the footsteps of the great ancestor of the Andorian people, Shran.”

Commander Sisko allowed himself a brief chuckle. “Pending review of the reports submitted to Starfleet Command, that may be a possibility.”

He stepped closer, placing a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “Have you ever been to Earth, Cadet?”

He patted him again, a smile forming as he stepped back toward the head of the table. “That’s right—Cadet Ren. If you intend to join Starfleet, you’ll need to attend the Academy in San Francisco.”

Ren bowed his head. “Whatever it takes, Commander.”

“Sit down, Cadet. You’ll need a strong recommendation to gain admission—but I suspect your original captain’s logs may provide that.”

Cadet Ren resumed his seat.

An unfamiliar chill moved through me.

Those logs would not simply support careers.

They would define outcomes.

It was irrelevant.

There was nothing further I could influence.

Commander Sisko turned his attention to Ensign Jaxa, who was staring at Cadet Ren with a subdued expression. His enrollment would undoubtedly create distance between them.

“Ensign Jaxa, you are reassigned to the USS Enterprise, NCC-1701-D, under Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Starfleet will contact you if further information is required.”

Her expression lifted—slightly, but noticeably. It was a great honor to be assinged to the Federation's Flagship. Considering her past, that was a great honor to her.  “Acknowledged, Commander.”

Commander Sisko scanned the remaining officers. Commander Pelia was tapping her fingers against the table when his gaze met hers.

His expression shifted—unease, subtle but present.

“Commander—”

Pelia raised her hand, cutting him off. His surprise was immediate.

“Before you continue, Commander, you will receive my resignation along with my report. Centuries of service is… sufficient.”

She stood, the first to leave.

“I believed I had seen everything, Commander.”

She paused at the doorway, glancing back.

“Until I stepped onto that station. We did what we had to.”

A statement of fact.

Not justification.

He offered no response as she exited.

No one followed.

I found that… unsurprising.

I turned my attention to Commander Darak.

He remained seated, awaiting his reassignment. His gaze had shifted from me to a small glass of water, which he rotated slowly between his fingers.

Controlled.

Deliberate.

“Commander Darak—it is now, I am told?”

“If it suits Starfleet, Commander.”

He stilled the glass and met Sisko’s gaze. “I followed the chain of command. Nothing more.”

The phrasing was exact.

Purposefully so.

He leaned back in his chair, presenting an image of complete detachment.

An image.

Not reality.

“I see,” Commander Sisko replied, glancing down at his PADD.

“Fortunately for you, Starfleet intends to review your promotion. You are ordered to remain on Deep Space Nine pending reassignment following their investigation.”

I expected some indication of relief.

There was none.

Consistent.

Commander Sisko allowed a quiet laugh and turned his attention back toward me. “As for the Cairo—the command was only temporarily reassigned from Captain Jellico for this mission. Starfleet has already recalled him from the Cardassian front. He will resume command upon completion of the refit.”

I had nearly forgotten Constable Odo’s presence.

Unusual.

“The security sweep determined that a significant portion of the Cairo’s refit must be redone,” he stated. “An unusual amount.”

He gave a brief scoff. “Rest assured, that will be included in my report.”

No one responded.

No one challenged him.

I felt the commander’s hand rest on my shoulder and looked up to meet his gaze.

“And as for you, Captain. You will remain on station pending Starfleet’s review. I would not anticipate a promotion.”

A pause.

Measured.

“Your disregard for a direct medical order will be noted in your permanent record.”

In that moment, I reassessed my prior assumptions.

I had… overcalculated.

And in doing so, likely compromised the outcome I had intended.

“Acknowledged, Commander.”

I turned toward Darak.

As expected—his gaze met mine.

His interest had not diminished.

It would not conclude here.

Commander Sisko clasped his hands together with force. “Crew dismissed.”

A briefing—efficient, direct.

And yet… incomplete.

I followed the crew out of the room. Most moved immediately toward the turbolifts—likely bound for their quarters, or the Promenade.

I determined that remaining in Ops would introduce unnecessary friction.

My time would be better spent elsewhere.

The Promenade was… suitable.

The probability of an extended stay on Deep Space Nine had increased.

I allowed the others to enter the turbolifts before stepping forward to take one alone.

Or so I assumed.

I stepped inside.

The doors began to close.

A hand intercepted them.

Cardassian.

The doors reopened.

Commander Darak entered, taking position beside me. “Promenade.”

If I did not know better, I might have concluded Cardassians possessed telepathic abilities.

I remained silent as the turbolift began its descent.

So did he.

Verbally.

Only seconds passed before his hand found mine.

Firm.

Certain.

Deliberate.

I did not withdraw.

This time.

I kept my expression neutral, though from my peripheral I detected the faintest trace of a smile.

This outcome was… satisfactory to him.

And for the moment—

Acceptable to me.

I did not know what the future would hold.

But I had made a decision in that briefing room.

I would no longer restrain myself to the expectations placed upon me.

I was not the traditional Vulcan others assumed me to be.

No words were spoken.

None were necessary.

I believe we had moved beyond the prior impasse.

I drew in a slow breath as the turbolift descended.

Then—

My vision blurred.

Sudden.

Complete.

I felt a presence within me—unidentified, intrusive.

The station continued.

Unchanged.

Unaware.

But I was not.

The mission had ended.

The variables… had not.

And somewhere beyond the wormhole—

What had been taken… remained.

Unresolved.