The Autobiography of James T. Kirk

by David A. Goodman

“Yes sir,” she said. “Oh, and congratulations.” I smiled as I headed to the command chair, where Spock sat in command. He worked the night shift, Pike had told me, by his own request, as well as his day shift as science officer.

  “You’re relieved, Mr. Spock.”

  “You are 15 minutes and 44.3 seconds early for your shift, Captain,” he said, as he got out of the chair.

  “Captain’s prerogative,” I said. I sat down in the chair. It was a lot more comfortable than the one on the Hotspur. I took in the bridge, simultaneously busy and quiet. My nervousness was fading. I was now eager to get under way. I was lost in my reverie and didn’t notice a zealous ensign in his twenties approach my chair. I was a little startled when he was suddenly standing beside it.

  “Ensign Morgan Bateson reporting for duty,” he said. I nodded. I had no idea who this kid was and what he was waiting for.

  “Very well, Ensign,” I said, “assume your post.”

  He looked at me, confused.

  “Um, Captain Pike liked to have me on the bridge,” he said. “If you prefer me to wait somewhere else …” I had no idea what he was talking about, and I guess he could tell from my expression.

  “Sir,” he said, in a low voice, “I’m your yeoman.” I felt like an idiot, and somehow had forgotten that captains had yeomen; there wasn’t room for that kind of luxury aboard the Hotspur. He must have been the one who magically put away all my clothes. I asked him for the morning status reports and a cup of coffee. He seemed pleased to be given something to do, and was off.

  A few moments later, as I drank my coffee and scanned the reports, the day shift came onto the bridge. I caught the glances of a few officers who were somewhat worried that I made it there ahead of them. Lieutenant Lloyd Alden relieved Uhura at communications; Gary took over the helm position and was joined by Kelso at navigation. After a few minutes, the department heads had gathered behind me.

  Dr. Piper, chief medical officer, and Hikaru Sulu, the head of astrosciences, whom I had not met yet, stood with Scotty, who leaned forward as I joined them.

  “Just want to thank you, sir,” Scotty said. He’d gotten his official promotion to chief engineer. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I’m sure you won’t,” I said. I then turned to the others and we had an impromptu conference. They all reported the status of their departments, and that they were ready for departure. I ordered communications to get clearance from the dockmaster for departure, and had Kelso plot a course for our patrol sector. Once we had clearance, I stepped back to my chair.

  “Mr. Mitchell,” I said, “take us out.”

  “Aye, sir.” Gary keyed the console, and I watched the viewscreen as Earth quickly fell away.

  As I think back on that moment, Pike’s last advice would prove to be correct: everybody on that bridge would change or die. And I’d have the guts ripped out of me, a lot sooner than I could’ve imagined.

  “We’re leaving the Galaxy, Mr. Mitchell. Ahead warp factor one,” I said.

  The Enterprise sat motionless, less than five light-minutes from the Galaxy’s “edge.” On my order, Gary keyed the controls, and I heard the now familiar rumble of the ship’s engines. I’d been in the command chair of the Enterprise for almost two years and had done nothing of note. I had underestimated the Enterprise’s need for a refit, and rather than risk the crew in an unreliable vessel, we spent most of our time waiting at Starbase 11 for the parts to arrive. Unfortunately, the wrong nacelle domes were delivered, and parts for the new internal communications system were somehow left off the manifest, so we would have to go back at some point. I then had a shakedown cruise that lasted another month. We finally began our patrol of the Earth colonies and starbases in the sector, over a year after we left Earth.

  Despite the delays, my plan to refit the Enterprise seemed to have the desired effect; there wasn’t a peep out of the Klingons, and in fact they’d agreed to negotiation regarding the disputed area between their territory and the Federation. Everything was peaceful enough that Starfleet gave us a mission of pure research, and all the scientists on board were as excited as I was. A true history-making venture; even if we discovered nothing, that too would be memorable. But that had changed just a few moments before.

  We’d found an old-style ship recorder from the S.S. Valiant, a 200-year-old ship that had somehow also reached this far. The burnt-out tapes indicated the ship had encountered a “magnetic space storm”* that had thrown them out of the Galaxy, and in returning they’d encountered some unknown force that had caused the captain to order the destruction of his own ship.

  Now, suddenly, our mission of pure research had a hint of danger. We were studying an area of space no one had ever been to before, and I was reminded that my responsibility included determining whether it was safe for future travel.

  Suddenly, on the viewscreen ahead, a violent, crimson barrier appeared.

  “Force field of some kind,” Spock said. A force field? There’s a force field around the Galaxy? It made no scientific sense.**

  “Deflectors say there’s something there, sensors say there isn’t,” Spock said. “Density, negative. Radiation, negative. Energy … negative.” I looked over Kelso’s shoulder and saw that our deflector screens were reading the wall of negative energy in infinite directions. There was no way around it. It literally surrounded the Galaxy, and we were heading right for it. This must have been the unknown force the Valiant encountered.

  I watched the viewscreen as the force field grew, blocking out the rest of space. Just as I silently questioned whether our deflector shield would protect us from it, surges of energy went through the ship’s instruments. Control panels all over the bridge shorted out and exploded. Kelso frantically tried to fan out the smoke. We weren’t going to make it through this thing. I ordered the helmsman, Gary, to turn us around.

  But as Gary keyed the controls, his body suddenly flared with a torrent of energy. He fell to the deck. Spock took over the helm, navigating us out of that strange barrier.

  Our engines were burnt out, and nine of my crew had been killed. I went over to Gary. He was okay. I was relieved, until I saw his eyes: they were silver orbs. Gary had been changed.

  About a week later, we were in orbit of Delta Vega. It had taken several days to get here without warp engines, and we then spent a few more days while the very talented engineering staff repaired the ship using components from an automated station on the planet’s surface. We were finally ready to leave orbit. In that time, we’d lost three more crewmen. One of them was Gary Mitchell.

  And I killed him.

  It’s hard to explain what happened, the series of events that led me to take the life of my first officer and best friend. That barrier at the edge of the Galaxy imbued Gary with a kind of almost magical power, giving him telepathy and telekinesis. As the ship moved away from the barrier, the powers grew, and as they did, Gary lost touch with the person he had been. He started using his abilities to adjust controls throughout the ship. He was making it very clear he could take over whenever he wanted. Spock was the only member of the crew trying to get me to face the truth that Gary would eventually destroy us without giving it a second thought.

  “Kill Mitchell while you still can,” he said to me.

  I didn’t want to hear it, so rather than kill him, I brought the ship to Delta Vega and had Gary imprisoned on the planet. My intention was to leave him there. But Gary was able to escape.

  And then he killed Lee Kelso.

  Kelso had been a good friend of Gary’s, and Gary had killed him without blinking. Spock was right; I realized that this was a problem I couldn’t just leave behind. It was impossible to know how powerful Gary would become. He had to be stopped.

  I pursued Gary into the wilderness of Delta Vega. I didn’t stand a chance against him. Either I got lucky or he was just too overconfident. He slipped, and I phasered a giant bolder that crushed him.

  It was the first person I’d killed face-to-face. I never s
aw the faces of the beings who lost their lives battling me ship-to-ship. This face, Gary’s face, is one I still see every day. He had been looking after me for almost ten years, and in a few short days he was turned into some kind of monster. Yet in my nightmares about that day I still see the face of the man who was my friend.

  On the bridge, about to leave orbit, I recorded in my log that Gary had died in the line of duty. I noticed Spock listening in.

  “He didn’t ask for what happened to him,” I said. Spock decided at that moment to surprise me.

  “I felt for him too,” he said. I didn’t know what to make of that. Spock had never openly revealed an emotional side. But in that moment of despair, of loss, of losing the best friend I’d ever had, his decision to show me empathy was one I wouldn’t forget.

  “There may be hope for you yet, Mr. Spock,” I said. It was probably the first time I’d smiled in a month.

  Though we’d been able to repair the warp drive on Delta Vega, the ship had still suffered extensive damage. We had to return to Starbase 11 for repairs. The final components for the refit had arrived by then, so the refit could finally be completed. It would also allow the crew a little time to recover from what we’d been through, and I could try to replace the people we’d lost. But in our damaged state, it would still take three weeks to get there.

  A few days after Gary’s death, I was sitting on the bridge, lost in thought, when Lieutenant Hong came off the turbolift and approached me.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I know this has been a difficult period, but may I have a moment of your time, in private?” I nodded and led her off the bridge and to a conference room on Deck 5. She got right down to business.

  “I’m sorry to bother you with this, sir,” Lieutenant Hong said, “but we have to fill three positions immediately.” Lieutenant Hong was the ship’s personnel officer; one of her jobs was to make sure any open spots in the duty roster were filled appropriately, so as to prevent extra strain falling on any particular crewman. Given the deaths we’d had recently, this was a difficult subject to bring up, but necessary for her job. She put a tape in the slot and a list of available crewmen appeared on the viewscreen.

  “There are three positions that need your immediate attention. We need a new chief navigator,” she said.

  “Bailey was on beta shift,” I said. “Put him on alpha shift.” Bailey was a competent young officer, a few years out of the academy. He’d served a few shifts with me on the bridge; he was a little eager to please, but he knew the job.

  “Sir, Ensign Bailey is only two years out of the academy. Usually chief navigators have a minimum of four years shipboard service.”

  “He’ll be fine. I’d been planning on promoting him,” I said. It wasn’t true; I was making a rash decision, I admit, partially because I found the process and Hong’s officiousness at that moment annoying, and wanted to get it over with.

  “Very well, sir. We also … need a new helmsman,” she said. I could see that Hong had tears in her eyes. Gary as first officer had dealt with all the personnel issues; I’d seen him joke and flirt with Hong, as he did with most women. This was a loss for her too. I decided to cut her a little slack.

  “What about Alden?” Alden was communications, but we had other officers qualified in that department, and Alden had often served as a helmsman when needed. Good, qualified officer.

  “Mr. Alden has requested not to be considered for the position,” she said. That was strange; I would have to look into it, but I wasn’t going to assign Alden to a vital position if he didn’t want it. Hong continued to scan through the files.

  “Mr. Sulu has actually a lot of experience from his last assignment.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to him,” I said. “And the third position?”

  “First officer,” she said. Gary again. Replacing the helmsman was one thing; a difficult job, but one that could be executed by someone with the proper training. First officer was something else; it was the person who took command when I wasn’t available, whose advice I relied on the most. There wasn’t anyone in the crew I had as much faith in as Gary.

  “Who’s next in line?” Since it was only three weeks to get to Starbase 11, maybe I could let whoever had the highest rank have the job, at least until then.

  “Let’s see …” she said, looking over the list. “Lieutenant Commander Benjamin Finney.”

  “No,” I said, a little too quickly. I felt terrible, but that would never work. Finney, it turned out, still hated me. Gary had told me a few weeks before that he’d had a bit of a row with him when he’d heard Finney complaining to a few dinner companions that I had ruined his career, that I was holding him back. (Gary didn’t specifically tell me what he’d done to get Finney to shut up, but I imagine it was more than just a stern talking-to.) Finney, early on, had requested transfer, but there were no open spots on other Constitution-class ships, and he didn’t want a lesser class so he stayed on the Enterprise. And now, his one opportunity to move up, and I was holding him back.

  No, I thought, it was his own fault; his attitude with me had affected my opinion of him. But I had to be careful; I couldn’t pick someone obviously less qualified. Finney could complain about me, but I couldn’t give the rest of the crew a reason to give his criticism legitimacy. And then I realized the answer was right in front of me.

  “Spock,” I said. “I’ll give it to Spock.” It made perfect sense; Spock was already a bridge officer, which, although not a requirement, was at least efficient. Pike had recommended him for the job; a lot of the crew would know that. They maybe weren’t friends with him, but everybody respected him. Especially me; I’d just been through one of the toughest series of decisions I’d faced as a captain, and Spock’s advice was correct at every stage. I was so lost in the satisfaction of my choice, I hadn’t noticed Hong’s expression. She didn’t look happy.

  “Yes sir,” she said. “And I assume you would like me to continue regular personnel meetings with Mr. Spock, as I did with Mr. Mitchell?” There was a little subtext to her question, and I understood. Spock was not an easy person to deal with; his Vulcan demeanor could be very off-putting, if not a little scary. And he certainly wasn’t going to try to make her laugh.

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” I said. We all had our assigned duties.

  “We’ve entered standard orbit,” Sulu said, as the familiar image of Starbase 11 spun on our forward viewscreen. He, at least, was pleased to get the job of helmsman. When I spoke to him, he thought I was going to fire him; most ships needed a department head for astrosciences, but not the Enterprise. Spock, as science officer, was more than capable of handling that job as well, and Sulu had felt extraneous. He had ambition to command, and being a bridge officer was the faster route.

  Spock had shown no emotion when he got the news that he was first officer. He said only that he would “endeavor to fulfill the job requirements satisfactorily.” And Bailey was doing fine as navigator. Those positions were filled, but by the time we got to Starbase 11, there were two more openings.

  Alden, my communications officer, was leaving the ship. He wasn’t sleeping or eating, and Dr. Piper determined that he was suffering from a stress disorder caused by trauma. Gary had relieved him on the helm about ten minutes before we’d gone through the barrier. Piper thought that Alden somehow blamed himself for what happened to Gary, that if he’d stayed at the helm, it would’ve been him who’d been changed, even though there was no basis for believing that. I approved Piper’s recommendation to give Alden a medical rest leave. It was a loss, but Uhura had already been filling a lot of Alden’s shifts, and it was reasonable to promote her to the position. Alden’s leave wasn’t the only bad news Piper was going to give me.

  “Jim, I’ve decided it’s time to retire,” he said. Piper was a veteran, which is what made him valuable in one sense, but was often at a disadvantage when dealing with the unknown. He said the experience with Gary had hit him hard; he had been focused on the physical health of h
is patient, but had offered no prognosis on his mental health. I’m not sure that any of us could’ve changed the outcome, but Piper especially felt that the situation had gotten away from him. I wished him the best, and felt a little bad about how quickly I moved to get his replacement.

  As luck would have it, McCoy wasn’t far away; he’d been posted to a planet, Capella IV. It was a primitive society that was, however, aware of the Federation. As such, under the Federation Charter, Starfleet was permitted to provide limited aid. McCoy had been stationed there to offer medical assistance. It wasn’t long before I was facing his crabby expression on my viewscreen.

  “I’ll take it,” he said. I laughed.

  “I haven’t offered anything yet,” I said.

  “I don’t care. The Capellans are warriors, have very little technology, and even less medicine. They think the sick should die. They want nothing to do with doctors. So if you can get me out of here, I’ll happily clean bedpans.”

  I was able to extricate McCoy from Capella, and he would end up joining us well before the refit was finished. I was thrilled; McCoy felt like a security blanket. Though I neglected to tell him that my new first officer was the Vulcan we had shared a ride to Earth with several years before. I knew he wouldn’t like it, which is why I brought Spock with me to greet McCoy when he arrived on Starbase 11. Upon being reintroduced, McCoy turned to me and said:

  “I should’ve stayed on Capella.”

  I laughed and took them both to a cafe on the base. I noticed in the same restaurant Ben Finney was sitting with a woman who I first took to be his wife, Naomi. I got up excitedly to go say hello to her, but as I approached, I realized the woman was far too young. I was a few feet away when she looked up at me and smiled in recognition.

  “Uncle Jim!” She stood and hugged me.

  “My god, Jamie,” I said, “I didn’t recognize you.” I noticed that Ben had stood up too. He wore a smile that felt false and forced. I kept my focus on her. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?”