Open Writing

James Kirk lay on his bunk, tossing and turning in the throes of a dream, his face gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. Seeing all of his old friends again had brought on a bout of introspection and a re-assessment of personal values, and now his subconscious was making him pay for the years of deferral.

In his dream, he saw the first voyage of the Enterprise after his original promotion, fifteen years ago, to admiral, when the ancient space probe Voyager had threatened the earth. He saw Will Decker give up his humanity to be with the woman he loved, and fuse with her and the machine to create a new life form.

He saw the madman, Khan, marooned on that hell planet for all those years. Did he really deserve that? Permanent exile merely for wanting mankind to evolve, to become a race of super-beings like himself? He saw, with an agony that made him groan in his sleep, the deaths of those dear to him.

First Spock, walking into the radiation-filled chamber, knowing he was condemning himself to death, and saving them all with his courage. Then his son, David, killed by Klingons on the planet he had helped to create by using technology he knew might not remain stable. To by-pass the rules, to beat the odds and the system, in order to achieve his ends. Just as Kirk himself had done, in the Kobyashi Maru test at the Academy, so many years ago.

Like father, like son.

Two gone; one friend, one blood. But unlike the son, the friend had come back from the dead. Even in his dream, Kirk realized that he had resented the Vulcan a little for his resurrection when there was no hope of his son doing the same. And, as is the way with dreams, he accepted the resentment, and put it aside.

He saw the journey through time to retrieve the whales, and the subsequent court-martial. In his dream, he felt his chest swell with pride as Spock marched out to join him and the others, announcing to the court that, although he was aware that he was not under indictment, he nevertheless preferred to stand with his shipmates.

He saw Spock’s brother sacrifice himself on the planet Shaka-Ri, and looked into the face of death as the Klingon ship leveled its guns at him, unaware that the gunner was Spock, and that he was not, had never been, alone.

And finally he saw the unmasking of the Federation plotters that had earned Kirk the grudging respect even of the leader of the Klingon High Council, as he and his crew had saved the Camp Khitomer peace conference from disaster, and the Federation President from assassination.

He saw the aftermath of that last engagement, the last cruise of the Enterprise. Sulu had taken the Excelsior back to Star Base One, but Kirk and his crew had gone for what amounted to one last joy ride. ‘Second star to the right’, he had told Chekov at the helm, ‘and straight on till morning.’ Like Peter and his Lost Boys, Kirk had not wanted to grow up, to have it all end. One more time, he had prayed, one last mission. Don’t let it be over yet, so much has happened, we’ve all shared so much, it was inconceivable that it could be, at last, finished.

‘Go to hell’, Spock had said in reply to the order from Star Fleet to return to base; or would have, had he been human. The younger members of the crew still had some way to go before their journey ended, but for Kirk, Scotty and the Vulcan the adventure was done, the last voyage sailed, the final frontier reached. There were no more enemies to confront, no more demons to vanquish, no more dragons to slay. Like a death’s head overshadowing them, retirement loomed, not in the background, but finally upon them.

In the words of a twentieth-century politician whom Kirk had read of and admired, the torch had been passed to a new generation. It was they who would take Star Fleet into its future, going where none have gone before, while Kirk and his kind, who had played their part in the drama of humanity, would retire from the play and settle back to await their final exit.

But now, there was one more thing to do, one more task to complete before the final curtain fell. Complete it successfully, return to earth having proven that they were not yet past their usefulness, and who knew what might happen?

All of these things, jumbled up, turned around and in and out of order, Kirk saw. Then the room’s sensors registered his increased heart and respiration rate, and a soft alarm sounded beside his head.

With a start, he awoke, the image of the Klingon trial of himself and McCoy fading from behind his retinas. As he came fully awake, Kirk’s last subconscious thought, gone almost before he had time to recognize it, was an echo of Richard Snell’s momentary conscience-pricking; that the peace with the Klingons was an uneasy armistice, temporary at best, fleeting and fragile.

Sitting up on the bunk, Kirk wiped the sweat from his brow, swung his legs to the floor and headed for his personal shower. Time to go to work, he thought, discarding his robe as he went. If I can’t sleep without dreaming, I’ll work longer and have McCoy give me something to knock me out.

Awake and resolute, he began to prepare for action.

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