The Autobiography of James T. Kirk

by David A. Goodman

  “Jesus,” McCoy said.

  A moving mass of brown and gray rolled toward us. It was hard to make out distinct shapes in the mass, but there were hundreds, thousands of eyes and fangs. As it got closer, I could see the individual creatures moved on all fours, thick hind legs and small upper limbs, like rats. But huge; each was four or five feet long. They were scrambling over each other, biting, clawing, but moving fast over the terrain. As they approached, the cacophony of their piercing shrills grew in intensity.

  “I think we know why the Tellarites left …” Gary said.

  “There’s no record of a life-form like this on Dimorous—” McCoy said.

  “There is now,” I said, taking out my communicator. “Kirk to Kelso, what’s your status?”

  “Kelso here. I’m bringing up the first sample now—”

  “One sample’s all you’re going to get,” I said. It would’ve been nice to have a little in reserve, but it was not to be. “On the double, we’ve got to get out of here.” I then switched channels. “Kirk to Hotspur, stand by for emergency transport.” I was prepared to leave even the one crystal behind, except I quickly found out that wasn’t an option.

  “Commander, this is Hotspur,” Kaplan said. “Our power levels have dropped too low, transporter is out.”

  “Send a shuttle,” I said. I looked out at the furry, noxious mass getting closer. I was angry; somehow I blamed this whole situation on Kaplan.

  “Already launched, sir. They’ll be there in minutes.” At least he’d done that right.

  The animals’ shrieking was making it difficult to hear. I instinctively drew my phaser, but as Gary and Black followed suit, I was reminded of my responsibility.

  “On stun,” I said.

  “Really?” Gary had already set his phaser to full power. “Is this the time to get sentimental?” I could see from Black’s expression that she agreed with the first officer, but was respectful enough not to offer her opinion.

  “Mr. Mitchell,” McCoy said, “our mission is about the preservation of life.”

  “Yeah, I always figured that included us,” Gary said.

  “McCoy, go give Kelso a hand,” I said. Having McCoy there harping on our duty to other life-forms wasn’t helping; I knew the right thing to do, but I was also scared, and his somewhat self-righteous tone made me want to disagree with him.

  “Let’s see if we can scare them off,” I said. “Take out a few in the front.”

  We fired and hit about a dozen of the creatures in front. It did not slow the mass down; the creatures climbed over their unconscious brethren without pause. The brown and gray wave now separated into more distinct shapes, spreading out in the plain surrounding the mining facility. They were moving on us from a broader front; their line was thinner, but we wouldn’t be able to cover that wide an area.

  “Sir, that was a tactical move,” Black said. She was right; though fierce and relentless, it was a sign of intelligence. These were not wild animals. And then, just as I noticed something else, Gary did too.

  “Jim, are some of them … armed?” Above their hind legs on a large portion of the creatures’ backs were something that looked like bandoleers; each held several pointed projectiles.

  “Gary, take the left wall, Black, the right. Don’t let them flank us,” I said.

  “Can we kill them now?” Gary said.

  “No, it’ll drain our phasers too fast. And make your shots count. Short bursts.” As Black and Gary moved to their positions, I fired my phaser. They soon joined me as our beams stunned creature after creature. It was only a temporary solution; the creatures didn’t stay unconscious for very long. We weren’t holding the line; there was just too many of them. Slowly they inched forward. As they did, some of the creatures gripped the dart-like projectiles strapped to their backs with one of their hind feet and threw them. They were thankfully still out of range, the darts falling a few feet short of the wall. I took out my communicator.

  “Kirk to McCoy, status!” I said, now yelling to be heard over the din.

  “Kelso’s finished, we’re on our way out,” McCoy said. I then looked up and saw a shuttle break through an orange cloud. At the same time, I heard repeated thunks against the wall. The rodent creatures were in throwing range. I watched the shuttle approach. The landing pad was outside the walls of the mining facility, which, for obvious reasons, was not going to work, and there wasn’t room inside the walls for the shuttle to land.

  “Kirk to shuttle,” I said.

  “Uhura here, sir.” I was pleased it was her. Uhura was a dedicated officer, and though she specialized in communications, she was a very good pilot.

  “Uhura, we’re not going to be able to make the landing pad—”

  “I can see that, sir,” she said. “I can land on the bunker, but I don’t think it will hold the shuttle’s weight for long …”

  “Do it,” I said.

  I took a quick glance to my left. Gary was holding off his creatures’ advance, but he was firing a little wildly, missing often; they were closing in. I then looked to my right and could see that Black’s shooting was much more efficient; the creatures on that side were farther back. The shuttle zoomed over us, heading toward the bunker, where McCoy and Kelso were now waiting, holding a canister with the dilithium inside.

  “Black, move back to the bunker,” I said. I gambled that it would take a little longer for the creatures to reach her side of the wall. A few darts now hit just below where I was standing. “Stand by to give us cover.”

  Black leaped off the walkway of her wall and ran back to the bunker. The shuttle rested on the bunker, and I turned to Gary.

  “Go!” We both turned and leaped. Darts cleared the wall just as we jumped. As I ran toward her, Black, having reached the bunker, aimed her phaser directly at me and fired. The beam missed me but presumably hit the creatures, which were now crawling up over the wall behind me.

  “Get in the shuttle!” I yelled. McCoy and Kelso were already climbing up onto the roof of the bunker. Black then quickly scaled the wall, and immediately knelt and continued to fire. I turned and saw the horde of rodent-like monsters scramble over the barrier. I fired several shots as Gary reached the bunker with me. I continued to fire as he gave me a quick leg up onto the bunker. I then grabbed him and pulled him up. I looked down and saw cracks were spreading on the bunker’s roof; the shuttle’s weight was too much. We moved to the hatch and I motioned Black inside. I was following her in when I was suddenly shoved into the craft, onto its deck. I turned to see Gary was prone on the bunker. He’d pushed me inside and taken a dart in the upper right arm. The shuttle shifted; the roof of the bunker was giving way.

  “Black, cover me!”

  I dove out of the shuttle and saw the angry, empty eyes clear the roof. Black fired from the shuttle’s entrance, shooting the creatures closest to me, giving me time to throw Gary over my shoulder and turn back to the shuttle. There were too many for Black to shoot, and she had to move back to let me on board. I could hear the skittering creatures inches behind me as I fell back into the shuttle. There was hot breath on my neck as the shuttle hatch slammed shut. Uhura, at the helm, screamed.

  I turned; when the hatch closed, it had severed a creature’s head and one of its paws. The face stared at us from the deck, its mouth open, revealing unnaturally sharp razor fangs, oozing yellow blood. I heard the thumping of the rodents outside against the hull.

  The shuttle jarred, and we were all thrown against the starboard bulkhead; the roof was collapsing.

  “Uhura!” I shouted, but she’d already regained her composure and grabbled the controls. She jammed the throttles forward, the engines groaned, and the shuttle righted itself as we lifted off.

  McCoy had already moved to examine Gary. He ripped Gary’s shirtsleeve to reveal the wound. A black stain was visibly spreading from the entry of the dart. McCoy took out his scanner. Gary looked up at me and forced a smile through his pain.

  “What the hell were you
thinking?” I said to him.

  “Wasn’t,” Gary said, in pain. “Been … a problem … since the acad—”

  “Gary, I have to knock you out,” McCoy said. He took out the hypo from the medkit on his hip and injected it into Gary, who immediately passed out. McCoy turned to Black.

  “Give me your phaser,” McCoy said, as she handed him the weapon. “And everybody stand back.”

  “What are you doing?” I said. McCoy was adjusting the setting on the weapon.

  “I don’t know what this poison is. I need to buy some time.” He moved Gary’s injured arm out away from his body, carefully aimed the phaser, and sliced off his arm above the wound. The heat from the phaser cauterized the cut.

  We all sat there in stunned silence for a moment. I looked around at my crew, scared, tired. There was the severed head and paw of a giant rat, as well as the amputated arm of my first officer and best friend.

  “Well …” I said, “everybody, good work today.” And after a moment, I laughed out of exhaustion. And everyone joined me.

  “The DNA is a 61 percent match to the animal native to Dimorous,” McCoy said. “But someone made some additions.”

  On the viewscreen at McCoy’s desk floated a double helix. Part of the strand was highlighted.

  “Genetic engineering,” I said. “Outlawed for a hundred years. You think the Tellarites—”

  “I don’t have any proof of who was doing what,” McCoy said. “But someone was up to something. Even the poison on those darts wasn’t completely indigenous.”

  An out-of-control genetic experiment would explain why the Tellarites had abandoned a rich dilithium vein as well as some state-of-the-art equipment. But it left a lot of unanswered questions. I wouldn’t get the answers for a long time.

  “How’s Gary?” I said.

  “Recovering,” McCoy said. “I was able to clean out all the poison in his arm and reattach it. That poison was naturally occurring on the planet, but it had been weaponized. It was particularly malicious. Another few seconds would’ve been too late.”

  “Good job, Sawbones.”

  “What?” I was surprised that McCoy had never heard this piece of ancient Earth slang.

  “It’s what they called surgeons in the Old West,” I said. “Often men of your profession only had one option to cure their patients. Cutting off limbs to prevent the spread of infection.”

  “I knew about the practice; never heard that nickname,” McCoy said. “Gruesome. Please don’t use it again.”

  He probably regretted saying that.

  After the incident on Dimorous, I was looking forward to my shore leave. I was still wounded by my experience with Carol, but I sought comfort with another woman. Janet Lebow was a young endocrinologist completing her doctorate on Benecia, one of the Hotspur’s stops, and she was part of a team that was tasked with examining the samples of the rodents from Dimorous. Janet seemed almost immediately familiar to me; in hindsight I can see that she reminded me of Carol: dedicated, beautiful, brilliant, a serious intellectual with a passionate devotion to her career. This devotion would allow me to rationalize my own emotional distance, and our fervent romance didn’t last.*

  But while there was a persistent emptiness in my personal life, my professional life was solidifying. I had dispensed with a lot of my early insecurities in managing a crew, and formed my command style. I knew, or thought I knew, what kind of captain I was. I was itching to get a step up, to gain more responsibility and respectability. As the years went by, I’d put together a good crew; I had a lot of bright young men and women who I thought would develop along with me and form a great team. I was counting on not losing them to better opportunities before I had a chance to take them with me wherever I would go. It was too much to hope for.

  One night, I was awakened by the intercom. It was Uhura, who was on the bridge nightwatch.

  “Sorry to wake you, sir,” she said. “Priority message from Starfleet.”

  “Read it to me,” I said, yawning, sitting up in bed.

  “To Kirk, commanding U.S.S. Hotspur. From Komack, admiral, Starfleet Command. You are hereby ordered to make best possible speed to Utopia Planitia, Mars, Sol System, for decommissioning.”

  “Thank you, Ensign,” I said. Now I was awake. “Have navigation alter our course for Sol System, best possible safe speed. Kirk out.” I switched off the communicator. I’d heard that several of the Baton Rouge–class ships had already been decommissioned; they were all well out of their prime. Better-designed vessels specifically constructed for their tasks were taking their places. This was not good news.

  I was losing my command, and since I hadn’t received word of a transfer, it meant there were no other captaincies available. I could be sitting on a shore posting for a long time waiting for a position to open up. It was risky; it was well-known the longer you were on a planet, the greater the chances Starfleet would leave you there. And since I had received a battle-field promotion to command of Hotspur, I was concerned I would be in competition with more senior commanders and captains for an open ship.

  I informed the crew the next morning, but by then many had already heard. Over the next two weeks, most of them received their transfer orders; Starfleet was cannibalizing my crew, and it was painful. Many were given great opportunities: Kelso and Uhura were both posted to the U.S.S. Enterprise, though with no promotion. Black was made security chief of the U.S.S. Excalibur. I assumed McCoy would move up to a Constitution class as well, but no offer included a chief medical officer position, so he turned them all down. The biggest surprise, however, was Gary.

  “Do you know Ron Tracy?” Gary said to me one day over breakfast.

  “Met him for five seconds when he took over the Republic,” I said.

  “He’s taking command of the Exeter. Offered me helmsman.”

  “I thought Mendez offered you exec on the Astral Queen.”

  “So?” Gary said.

  “So the word is he’s going to make commodore soon. You’d be in position to get command.”

  “No guarantee of that,” Gary said, “and if you offer me exec somewhere, I can leave the Exeter without burning any bridges.”

  I was surprised and touched. Gary was putting his career on hold on the off chance we could continue to work together.

  “Don’t you want a ship of your own?”

  “Me with absolute power?” he said, with a smirk. “Don’t you think that’d be a little dangerous?”

  The Utopia Planitia shipyard, both on the surface and in orbit of Mars, was, even back then, a grand sight. There were ten dry dock superstructures that hung above the red planet, many filled with spaceships in various states of overhaul or construction, while repair crews in space suits and piloting small “worker bee” shuttles floated around them, building and mending.

  We brought Hotspur into one of the dry docks in low orbit, and most of the crew disembarked, while a skeleton staff from engineering coordinated with the dock crews to begin shutting down the systems and inventorying what was salvageable. The day before we reached Mars, I was given my next assignment: department of strategic planning and studies, Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. It was the epitome of a desk job.

  On the trip back, I had made sure to have a personal exit interview with every member of the crew. I told many I hoped I would serve with them again and meant it (except maybe when I said it to Kaplan). So when we docked at Mars, I didn’t see any need to say goodbye to anyone again. I packed up my things in my duffel and headed for the shuttle bay; I had requisitioned one of the ship’s shuttlecraft so I could pilot myself back to Earth.

  As I walked through the corridors of the Hotspur, I was surprised at how deserted it already was. I realized that I had been looking forward to a few casual goodbyes on my way off the ship, and was disappointed that I passed literally no one on my way to the bay. I suppose that should’ve been a clue.

  “Atten-shun!” I heard the words as the doors to the bay slid open, and tried
to conceal my astonishment. It was Gary who shouted it, and 300 crew members immediately stood at attention. They formed up on both sides of the bay, with a clear path to the hatch of the shuttlecraft. I smiled and, duffel over my shoulder, walked by them. Kelso, Black, and Uhura (who had tears in her eyes) all stood at attention as I passed. Gary and McCoy waited at the end. McCoy was coming with me to Earth, but this was the last time I would be seeing Gary for a while. I turned and faced the crew. I looked at all the faces of my first command, many of whom I hadn’t chosen, but to all of whom I’d felt connected.

  “Dismiss all hands,” I said.

  “Company, dismissed!” Gary said, sounding as sincere as he ever had. “Prepare shuttle bay for immediate launch.”

  “Thanks for this,” I said quietly to Gary, as I shook his hand.

  “Stay in touch,” he said, and followed the crew out of the bay. I then helped McCoy with his luggage onto the shuttle. He had a duffel as well as a very heavy crate.

  “Are those your ‘special contingencies’?” I said, as I heaved it onto the craft.

  “They would be dangerous in the hands of someone less experienced,” McCoy said. He sat down, and I took the helm controls. I could see through the view port that the bay had been cleared. I keyed the intercom.

  “Shuttlecraft Gates to launch control,” I said. “Request permission to depart.”

  “Launch control to shuttlecraft, permission granted,” Gary said, now in the bay’s launch center. “Uh, Jim, we’re getting a request from traffic control for you to take another passenger to Earth with you. He’s Starfleet.”

  “All right, transmit his coordinates,” I said.

  A moment later, I piloted the shuttle out of the bay, leaving Hotspur behind. I entered a maze of other ships in dock, old and new, and none of them were mine. I felt a longing to turn around, head back to Hotspur, but the ship wouldn’t be there for much longer.