But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex slowly lift an arm and put it around his brother’s shoulder. And he saw Julius wipe clumsily at suddenly full eyes.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“YOU’RE A SIGHT for sore eyes,” Admiral Laura Standing Crane said as she smiled at Kirk from the viewscreen.
“The feeling’s mutual,” Kirk said. “You still owe me that drink.”
“After what you’ve done, I think I owe you dinner and a drink,” Standing Crane said. “Although that will have to wait until I get back from the Huanni/Falorian conference.”
Kirk uttered a mock groan. “That could take years. I’m getting old, Laura, I don’t have that much time left!”
Now she laughed aloud. “Jim Kirk, you’re the youngest man I know.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.”
“Take it as a compliment.”
“All right, I will. I don’t envy you, Laura. The Federation’s got a big job ahead of it in trying to sort out the Huanni/Falorian mess.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” she admitted, “but it’s not as bad as it could be. A lot of lives were lost in [314] the Falorian campaign against Huan, but far fewer than it could have been. I’m a little fuzzy on the details—how did Captain Sulu manage to defeat the fleet?”
Now that was a sticky issue. Kirk kept his face carefully neutral as his mind raced, trying to come up with an answer for that one.
“You’ll have to talk to Captain Sulu about that. I’m not sure about all the details myself and I’d hate to tell you something that might not be correct.” The response was so smooth that even a Romulan would have been proud of it, he thought.
“Fair enough. Regardless, the Huanni infrastructure took a lot of damage and it’s going to take time and resources to get them on their feet again. And there’s going to be an inquiry, of course.”
“About the fact that they enslaved the Falorians and pretended it didn’t happen,” Kirk said.
“You have to admit, that’s a big omission.”
“If Skalli’s a fair representative of the Huanni, then they’re a good people.”
Standing Crane nodded her dark head. “I’m inclined to agree with you, but we can’t let this pass without notice.”
“What about the Falorians?”
“They’re being extremely cooperative. Good job on coaxing Lissan into destroying the nanoprobes, Jim. That’s a big point in their favor right now. They might be great actors, but I’ll tell you, the Kal-Toreshi seemed stunned by how close they came to mass murder. On their own, before we could even request it, they destroyed all information relating to the development of [315] the virus, so that such a threat might never again occur.”
“I assume you’re trusting but verifying,” Kirk said.
“Of course. We’ll have our own team’s there to make sure of it. For the present, the planet’s under martial law.”
Kirk nodded. He had expected as much. All the members of the Kal-Toreshi, including and especially Lissan, had been detained and would be brought to Starfleet headquarters for questioning and, most likely, some term of imprisonment.
“Sounds like it’s all over but the shouting,” Kirk said.
“Just about. I’ve got to get going, Jim, but I wanted to see with my own eyes that you were all right.”
“I’m fine. But I’m hungry. Don’t be too long on that dinner.”
She smiled. “I’ll do my best. Standing Crane out.”
Kirk leaned back in the torture device the Klingons called a “chair” and touched a button on his personal recording device.
Captain’s personal log, addendum:
Despite the messiness and the scope of this situation, I have high hopes that the two separated people will be reunited. If not, then at least they will be able to live in peace. Skalli’s courage in repeatedly extending the hand of friendship to Lissan, despite his initial harsh rebuffs, is largely responsible for this development. I’m glad she’s coming back to finish her education, though it might take a while since both Huan and Falor have requested her involvement in future proceedings.
My nephew Julius is also returning for trial. While I cannot condone his actions, his subsequent behavior will count in his [316] favor. He’s a good man. Sam would have been so proud of all his boys. And I understand that despite what they went through, all the colonists, down to the last man, have assured Alexander that if he can get them another opportunity, they will be willing to sign up again.
Kirk didn’t want to talk about the rest. It all still irked him. He turned off the recording device and sat back in the hellishly uncomfortable chair in his private quarters.
There was a harsh, grating buzz, and Kirk realized that someone was requesting admittance. “Come in,” he called, and the door hissed open. Spock and McCoy stood there. McCoy grinned and lifted an amber bottle.
“I invited the rest of the old gang, but they’re all busy. Good thing, too. Scotty would have wanted us to drink his Scotch instead of this sweet stuff.”
“Well, let’s not let that fine Kentucky bourbon go to waste,” Kirk said, waving them in. As he located three of the hefty mugs the Klingon used to drink a beverage called “blood wine” he noted with amusement that he was becoming used to Klingon ships.
“Boy, the Klingons don’t do things by half measures, do they?” McCoy said, eyeing the massive steins. He poured a little into each one. What would have been a generous shot in any other glass barely covered the bottom.
“So I assume Scotty’s busy reading up on what is left of the Falorian technical information,” Kirk said. Spock nodded. “Where are the rest?”
“Commander Chekov’s over talking with Sulu,” McCoy said. “I wouldn’t expect him to return with us if [317] I were you, Jim. Seems Sulu’s first officer is due to retire in six weeks and he needs a first officer.”
“Chekov was holding out for a captaincy,” Kirk said.
“Chekov has always valued service and friendship above the advancement of his career,” Spock said. “I believe he would serve Captain Sulu well and loyally.”
“I know he would. And I understand the multitalented Uhura is going to be performing in less than a week.”
McCoy chuckled. “You should see how she handles that Klingon opera star,” he said. “She’s got him under her thumb, that’s for sure.”
“I saw a little of that on the bridge. I’ve never seen a smitten Klingon before. I don’t suppose the feeling’s mutual?”
“I doubt it,” McCoy said. “Uhura’s a tough cookie, and she’s admitted that Karglak’s voice makes her weak in the knees, but I just can’t see her walking around wearing all that armor and eating blech.”
“The term for that particular food item is gagh,” Spock said.
McCoy fixed him with a gaze. “You call it what you want, I’ll call it what I want.”
“Looks like Uhura has developed some unique negotiating skills,” Kirk said. “Perhaps we should permit her to conduct all negotiating sessions with the Klingons.”
Spock looked a tad offended. “I do not think that would be appropriate.”
Kirk and McCoy looked at each other and grinned a little. “I propose a toast,” McCoy said. “To old cowhands on the last roundup. May they always bring their charges safely home.”
[318] “Cowhand?” Spock asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Shut up and drink, Spock,” McCoy growled. Spock did.
Kirk swirled the liquid in the mug and sipped, trying to ignore the strange, musky scent that still clung to the mugs. “The last roundup,” he mused. “Is that it? And are we the cows or the cowhands? Going back to the bunkhouse or going out to pasture?”
McCoy set his glass down and stared at Kirk. Spock, too, looked sharply at his former commander.
“Captain,” Spock said slowly, “I perceive that you feel unhappy with the level of your involvement in recent events.”
“Damn right I do.” Kirk knew he was bone-tired, or he
wouldn’t have let the words spill out so freely. And again, it could be the strength of Bones’s bourbon mixed with whatever might still be in the bottom of the mug. “I’ve done nothing right since the Enterprise was decommissioned. I’m ... lost without her, Spock. I don’t know how to be anything other than a starship captain. I feel useless and worse, I feel like I’m a hindrance.
“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t save the colonists—they saved themselves. Veta and Gallagher came up with the technology that allowed them to disappear into the cave system. You and Spock saved us when I was just about to blow up the control center. I didn’t save the Huanni from Falorian attack—Sulu did. I didn’t convince Lissan to cooperate—Skalli talked him into it. Hell, even the Klingons played a more active part than I did. I’ve just had my life saved by the Klingon High Chancellor and her people. Klingons, Bones! Who [319] deserves the credit? My old shipmates and my old enemies. I can’t contribute anymore. I can’t make a difference. Maybe I should be farmed out to pasture.”
McCoy glowered. “Now that’s poppycock and you know it, Jim.”
“Although he may be surprised to hear me say it, I completely agree with the good doctor. You are a valuable resource and a magnificent teacher. Your students are extremely fortunate to have you as a presence in their lives.”
“Spock’s right,” McCoy said. “I am surprised he agrees with me.” He grinned. “And damn it, he’s right about the other stuff, too. Do you have any idea, Jim, of the amazing vastness of your sphere of influence?”
“Well, maybe I can share what I’ve learned, but—”
“No buts. Let’s take a brief look at just a couple of your students. Skalli managed to take her hyperactive emotions and put them to good use instead of falling apart in the midst of a crisis that would have challenged anybody, let alone a Huanni. She may be responsible one day for single-handedly uniting the two separate races. She learned that discipline from you. She wouldn’t have even gone in to talk to Lissan if you hadn’t put her up to it.”
Kirk opened his mouth to object—Skalli had had that in her all along—but McCoy said “Ah, ah, I’m not done yet. Sulu goes in there and manages to wrangle the slipperiest characters in the galaxy into fighting alongside the Federation. Think that would have occurred to him if he hadn’t spent years watching you pull stunts like that?”
[320] “I wouldn’t call them stunts,” Kirk began, but again McCoy waved him to silence.
“And then there’s the Vulcan and me and Uhura. You think we’d be hauling our tired old bones halfway across the galaxy if some idiot named Jim Kirk hadn’t put that fire in our bellies years ago? Hell no. I wouldn’t get out of bed for most people, Jim.” He lifted his glass. “To Jim Kirk, who’s a walking, talking inspiration.” He narrowed his blue eyes and added, “And don’t you dare say a word to contradict me.”
Kirk glanced at Spock, but the Vulcan merely said, “As it is illogical to falsify and exaggerate one’s virtues and importance, it is also illogical to deny them when all evidence supports their existence.”
A slow smile spread across Kirk’s face as, for the first time, he allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, Spock and Bones were right. Maybe he didn’t have to save the day all the time. He couldn’t deny the truth of what Spock had said. He had done a great deal in his life. He’d helped a lot of people, trained so many to “get out there and do some good.”
Eventually, he knew, the day had to come when the baton would be passed. Kirk realized now how deeply he had dreaded it, how he feared in the deepest recesses of his soul that if he wasn’t on the bridge of a starship, he might as well be dead for all the good he could contribute.
Maybe that line of thinking was, as Spock put it, “illogical.” And damned selfish, too.
Perhaps simply by being himself, Kirk could continue to have a positive influence on those around him.
[321] And whether or not it’s true, he thought, it sure as hell beats playing solitaire.
He lifted his mug. “Gentlemen,” he said, “far be it from me to contradict the sage words of two old friends. To the last roundup, and a warm bed at the end of a cold hard day.”
As their mugs clinked, Kirk added, “Either of you ever try skydiving?”
Epilogue
KIRK WAS SHRUGGING into the coat of his dress uniform when a message came. It was Standing Crane.
“Laura! Good to see you. What’s going on? I’m just about ready to leave for—”
“I know, and I won’t keep you.” Her expression was somber. “I’ve got some bad news. Kal-Tor Lissan was found dead in his cell this morning.”
“Oh, no.” Kirk was genuinely sorry to hear that. He had hoped that Lissan would be one of the architects of the peace accord that might someday be hammered out between the Falorians and Huanni. He had respected the man. “What happened? An illness?”
“A murder,” Standing Crane replied, chilling him.
“How did that possibly happen? He was in a Starfleet security cell!”
“We’re investigating that right now, but it looks like [324] a hit.” She took a deep breath and said, “It was pretty messy. His throat was slashed and someone had carved the number 858 into his chest.”
“Damn it. He didn’t deserve that. He was only trying to do what he thought was right for his people. Any idea what the number means?”
She shook her head. “No. We’ll do everything we can to find the killer, but it looks like a professional job. I don’t know that we will.”
“Can you inform Skalli?” The young Huanni was on Falor right now. Huan was busily rebuilding its fallen buildings and mining the incredibly pure dilithium that the Falorians had revealed was there. It was Skalli who had suggested that part of the wealth be shared with the Falorians whose difficult physical labor had discovered it centuries ago, and who had been appointed head of a team to negotiate the exchange.
“She already knows. She cried buckets.”
“Of course she did. I’m glad. Lissan deserved someone to weep for him.”
“On a brighter note, your testimony really helped Julius Kirk,” Standing Crane said. “A decision hasn’t been reached, but it looks like his sentence is going to be reduced. He might even get out on time served with community service.”
“That is good news,” said Kirk. “He made some mistakes, some bad ones, but he’s done what he could to atone.”
“And that’s going to be taken into account. Well, I won’t keep you, Jim. I know you’re looking forward to this afternoon.”
[325] Kirk rolled his eyes. She grinned, and then her image disappeared.
As he finished dressing, Kirk thought about the other colonists. Last he heard, Alex was in negotiations with the Vulcans about backing for a possible new venture. Now that would be a good match. He hadn’t heard much from the others, but for some reason the words that Kate Gallagher had spoken before she left with Alex to hide in the cave system came to mind. He was suddenly curious: Why would she want to look at her thesis?
“Computer,” he called. “Find information on Katherine J. Gallagher. Specifically, the title of her master’s thesis.”
“Gallagher, Katherine J. Known as Kate,” the computer said in its crisp female voice. “Title of master’s thesis is ‘The Devil in the Dark: Starfleet’s Blackest Moment Becomes Its Finest Hour.’ ”
“Display.” Kirk began reading and then smiled to himself, touched. The rough, angry Kate had written her master’s thesis on James Kirk’s intervention on Janus VI to save the Horta. Apparently, it was this single incident that had captured the young Gallagher’s imagination and set her feet on the path to protecting endangered species. No wonder she was so prickly around him when she thought him just another Starfleet bully. He made a mental note to drop her a line when he got back this evening.
Kirk put his medals on and examined himself in the mirror. Not bad for a retired legend. He was looking forward to seeing Scotty and Chekov again ... and to [326] walking the deck of a certa
in ship that he would always passionately love.
“Come on,” he said to his reflection. “I hear Captain Harriman isn’t a patient man. And besides, I hate to keep a lady waiting.”
About the e-Book
(AUGUST, 2003)—scanned, proofed and formatted by Bibliophile.
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