April 9th, 2004
|03:58 pm - Confrontation|
He smirked at the question, feeling like he was back at the Academy taking one of the many psychological tests that would determine if he was fit to serve. Dr. McCoy liked to do these little experiments on the crew every now and then, and as long as it didn't require him to take a physical, he was willing to indulge the good doctor's research proclivities.
The Starfleet mandate is to avoid confrontation when possible, use diplomacy as the first line of defense, and flex a Starships' weaponry muscles only as a last resort and only in defense, never attack.
He had sworn to uphold the principles of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, but deep-down, he thought that the bureaucrats in San Francisco had no clue about the way things really worked in deep-space. When a peaceful mission can so quickly turn into mind-games by an alien race. Or a trap. How many had he been caught in? How many times had he had to fight his way out? Even when it meant dismissing the Prime Directive. He'd lost count.
But he couldn't say all that.
"Response to confrontation query: I respond to confrontation within the guidelines laid out for Starship Captains by Starfleet Command."
He paused, not able to help the mischevious glint in his eyes or the curl to his lips.
"Whenever possible. End response."
Hope everything goes okay. Let me know if you'd ever like another pup!