Crucible: Kirk (14 page)

“All that will be, has already been,”
the Guardian said inscrutably.
“All that has been, will be.”

“Does that mean that you have already escaped the destruction caused by the starship?” Kirk asked. He did not anticipate a direct answer, but he wanted as much as possible to try to divine the Guardian's intent, as well as any movement it might have made through time. When it did not reply to his question, he said, “In my lifetime, a temporal phenomenon has devastated a section of the galaxy between the years twenty-two ninety-three and twenty-three seventy-one, with a corresponding loss of life. I wish to prevent that from occurring.”

Within the ring of the Guardian, Kirk saw himself lying in a coma in the
Enterprise
's sickbay, and then unconscious atop a diagnostic pallet in Starbase 10's infirmary. It struck him that those times in his life had come
after
the
Gr'oth
had rammed into the Guardian of Forever.
Or had it?
Kirk thought. The recordings of the incident had shown the Klingon vessel as it had streaked through the atmosphere, and they had shown its intended target. But when the
Gr'oth
had gotten close to the planet's surface, its mass had obscured the view of the Guardian. Could it be that the time vortex had during those last moments taken itself away, traveling through time to a place and time of safety?
If the Guardian had been destroyed,
Kirk asked himself,
could it possibly be showing me events in my life that had taken place
after
that?
Though he could not be sure, he didn't think so.

As his life continued to unfurl within the Guardian, he said, “I will unintentionally cause the shock wave that will destroy a portion of the galaxy, and I need your help to keep that from happening.” When the Guardian did not respond, Kirk explained precisely how and why the converging temporal loop had developed, then detailed his plan to stop it from occurring.

“Do you understand?” he asked when he had finished.

No reply.

“Will you help me?” he tried.

Nothing.

“Will you save yourself from the starship in the way that I have requested?”

“I am my own beginning, my own ending,”
repeated the Guardian.
“Through me is eternity kept.”

Kirk could not determine whether that answered his question, but he also realized that he would likely receive no reply more explicit than that, no matter what he asked. Strictly speaking, other than the Guardian allowing him to travel back into his own life right now, its participation would not be crucial to Kirk's efforts to avert the temporal loop. Being able to move through time via the vortex a second time would make it far easier to carry out his plan, but if necessary, he could succeed without that capability.

In the mists of the Guardian, moments from the
Enterprise
's seven-and-a-half-year expedition to and from the Aquarius Formation flickered past. After that, he saw himself riding a horse on his uncle's farm in Idaho, and he saw Antonia. He saw Khan Noonien Singh and Carol Marcus. He saw his son, David.

While the images continued to fade into and out of view, Kirk made additional attempts to converse with the Guardian. He tried to learn if it would indeed protect itself from Korax's suicidal plunge to the planet, and if it would be available to Kirk in his attempt to thwart the emergence of the shock wave. The Guardian spoke little and revealed less.

In the end, recognizing that he would learn no more than he already had, Kirk decided to proceed. Either the Guardian would survive beyond 2270 or it would not, either it would assist him when the time came or it would not. No matter, Kirk would do whatever he could to prevent the converging temporal loop.

He waited quietly as the pictures within the vortex moved on, showing the days aboard his last command, the
Enterprise
-A. Eventually, he saw himself in retirement once more, this time not sequestering himself away in the hills of Idaho, but traveling the globe and the galaxy: rappelling the Crystalline Trench, climbing Mount Revek, diving the Alandros Caves, rafting the lava flows of the Valtarik volcano, and more. As he reflected on the feats of derring-do that he'd undertaken during his second retirement, he realized how much he had been motivated to engage in such dangerous activities by the general sadness that had settled over his life.

At last, the images within the vortex reached the days just before he had boarded the
Enterprise
-B for its maiden voyage. He quickly reiterated his requests of the Guardian, then took a step back with one foot, preparing himself to move quickly. When he saw himself walking along the streets of San Francisco, he knew that the moment had come.

Kirk sprang forward and leaped through the Guardian of Forever, back into his own past.

2293

A cool breeze blew in from the bay and across the Presidio, hardly unusual weather for San Francisco late on a summer afternoon. As Jim Kirk walked alongside the facilities building on the Starfleet Headquarters campus, he glanced north, past the international-orange towers of the Golden Gate Bridge to the Marin Headlands. There, he saw fog already beginning to roll in from the Pacific. It would doubtless be a cold, damp night.

At the intersection with Robert April Way, Kirk turned onto the wide pedestrian thoroughfare, which led up to the main administration building in the center of the grounds. Hugging the wall a little too tightly, he nearly tripped over a low bench situated against the wall. He quickly jogged to his right and skirted both it and a potted bush beside it.

Several people strode along the gray paving stones and amid the scattered greenery, most of them in groups of two or three, and so far as Kirk could see, all of the them in uniform. Dressed himself in civilian attire—brown slacks and a jade-colored shirt—he felt out of place. Although he had spent more than half his life—

Kirk heard a scuffling noise behind him and he looked around in that direction. Back past the bench he had almost fallen over, he saw disappearing behind the facilities building a black pant leg, its thin red stripe distinguishing it as part of a Starfleet uniform. Kirk turned around and continued on his way.

Although he'd officially retired from Starfleet only earlier in the year, it already seemed strange to be back here. He still lived close by, in Russian Hill Tower, and he could even see the Presidio campus from the windows of this apartment. But merely seeing this place did not equate with actually being here.

Twice, Kirk had declined this invitation. Fleet Captain Strnod had left messages asking to meet with him, both times when Kirk had been off world. Once, he'd been cliff diving into the garnet waters of the Canopus Planet, and the other time, employing artificial wings to fly in the low-gravity environment of Izar's Shroud. On each occasion, after the message had been forwarded to him, he'd replied with the same simple rejection: “Whatever it is, no thanks. I'm retired.” He hadn't even wanted to know why Starfleet had asked to see him. If their interest had related to the assassination of Klingon Chancellor Gorkon and the attempt on the life of Federation President Raghoratreii, if the admiralty had perhaps needed him to provide additional testimony about his role in unmasking the conspiracy, they would have made him aware of that. Since Strnod hadn't specified the reason for calling him in for a meeting, though, Kirk had assumed that they'd merely wanted to try to coax him back into the fold.

He would never allow that to happen.

As he followed April Way around a curve that would bring the walkway across the front of the administration building, Kirk thought about the reasons he'd decided to leave Starfleet. In some ways, it had begun with the
Enterprise
-A, the ship he had commanded for eight years, and the namesake of which he had commanded for a dozen more. When Starfleet had decided to decommission the vessel after its decades of service—the ship had first seen duty as the
Yorktown
prior to its rechristening, when Kirk had been posted as its captain—the time had seemed right to step away. Many of the senior command crew with whom he had for so long served had aspirations beyond starship duty. Spock had initially returned to training cadets, but then he'd accepted an appointment as a full-fledged ambassador. McCoy had gone back to medical research, Uhura had taken a position with Starfleet Intelligence, and Scotty had retired. Kirk certainly could have assumed the captaincy of another ship, but he'd found little desire to command a vessel other than the
Enterprise,
and even less to do so without his friends by his side.

In addition to all of that, the space service in his estimation had become overly political in recent years. With so many interstellar tensions—with the Klingons, the Romulans, the Tholians, and others—missions of exploration had frequently given way to missions of diplomacy. Kirk understood and agreed with the efforts to maintain peace throughout the quadrant, but when he'd peered up at the stars as a boy, it had not been with the dream that he would one day mediate.

Kirk had also come to realize that he would not find what he needed out in space. He had found her once. He would not find her again.

Nearing the ten-story administration building, Kirk peered at the huge version of the Starfleet insignia adorning its façade. Years ago, when each starship had carried its own unique emblem, the asymmetrical arrowhead had belonged to the
Enterprise.
Later, when the policy of assigning distinct insignia had been discarded, Kirk had been proud that the distinguished record of his vessel had motivated Starfleet Command to adopt its symbol servicewide. Even now, seeing it so prominently displayed at headquarters prompted in him a glimmer of satisfaction.

When he reached the building, Kirk walked into its sprawling atrium. Beneath the transparent canopy that arced inward and upward from the doors all the way up to the top of the structure, he headed for the large circular desk located at the center of the space, to where a sign written in Federation Standard read
VISITORS
. Beyond the desk stood several banks of turbolifts. Kirk knew that automated sensors scanned every individual who entered the building, and that those identified as active Starfleet personnel could move freely about. Those not so identified and who did not check in with security would find themselves unable to leave the atrium; turbolifts containing unauthorized individuals would not function.

As Kirk approached the desk, a young security officer looked up at him. “Captain Kirk,” he said, tapping at the controls of a console. “You can go right up to the tenth floor, office ten-thirteen,” he said. “Admiral Sinclair-Alexander is expecting you.” Kirk couldn't tell whether the officer had recognized him or the sensors had revealed his identity.

He thanked the security officer, who informed him that he could use either of the central turbolifts. Kirk hadn't needed to be told that; when he'd served as Starfleet's chief of operations, he'd occupied an office on the tenth floor himself. He headed past the desk and over to one of the lifts.

As the car started upward, Kirk wondered if he'd made the right choice in coming here. After Fleet Captain Strnod had tried and failed to persuade him to attend a meeting here at Starfleet Headquarters, Margaret Alexander—
Sinclair-Alexander now,
he reminded himself—had added her voice to the request. Kirk had known Madge Alexander for many years now, ever since she had served for a year aboard his first command. A lieutenant at the time, she had performed so well that she'd earned a field promotion during her time aboard the
Enterprise,
at the end of which she had transferred to the
Firenze
to serve as its second officer. Her rapid ascent through the ranks had continued when she'd been made a full commander and assigned to the
Freedom
as its exec. Later, she had served as captain of the
Freedom
through to its decommissioning, and then she'd taken command of the
Saratoga.
From there, she had eventually moved into Starfleet Command. When she had followed up Strnod's invitations to a meeting at Starfleet with one of her own, she'd also mentioned that she would consider it a personal favor. With the request phrased in such terms, he had been unable to refuse.

The turbolift arrived at the tenth floor, and Kirk stepped out into a reception area. Another young officer immediately greeted him. “Captain Kirk,” she said, “I'm Ensign Teagarden, Admiral Sinclair-Alexander's assistant. Let me take you back there.” She gestured vaguely off to her right.

“Thank you,” Kirk said, and he followed Teagarden through several corridors, past his own former office. Finally, she led him through an anteroom—no doubt the ensign's own workspace—and into a large, comfortably appointed room. A sofa stood against the wall to the left, and a small conference table to the right. Artwork—mostly wooden carvings and masks, but also two paintings—hung on the walls and reflected the influences of Sinclair-Alexander's Jamaican birthplace. Across the room, before a row of tall windows, the admiral sat at a desk of blond wood.

“Jim,” she said as she looked up from a data slate. She rose and came out from behind her desk to greet him, both hands extended. As the ensign left, Kirk moved to the center of the office, where he took Sinclair-Alexander's hands in his own, offering a warm squeeze.

“Madge,” he said. “You're looking well.” Tall and dignified, Sinclair-Alexander had beautiful coffee-colored skin, high cheekbones, dark eyes, and black shoulder-length hair. Though just a few years younger than Kirk, she had something of a timeless appearance that made it difficult to estimate her age simply by looking at her.

“Thank you so much for coming in,” she said. Her voice carried the hint of a Caribbean accent. “Can I get you anything? A little Saurian brandy perhaps?”

“Is your plan to ply me with liquor before you tell me why you've called me here?” Kirk said with a smile.

“Ah, you're on to me,” she said. “Here, let's sit.” She let go of his hands and motioned toward the sofa. They sat down, and she asked again if he wanted anything to drink. When he declined, she said, “So how is life outside of Starfleet? Something I need to try for myself?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Kirk said. “You seem to be doing pretty well right where you are. In fact, I understand that congratulations are in order, Admiral
Sinclair
-Alexander.”

She smiled widely, exuding a radiance that bespoke her happiness. “We got married last year,” she said. “You'll have to come over for dinner one night. Cynthia's a wonderful cook.”

“So you're spoiled then?” Kirk joked.

“Completely,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “No more food synthesizers for this old girl.”

“That's reason enough to give up a starship command,” Kirk said with a chuckle.

“If I'd have still been on the
Saratoga
when Cynthia and I met,” Sinclair-Alexander said, “you can bet I would've jumped ship.”

The notion of abandoning a captaincy for the right person dredged up an all-too-familiar sadness within Kirk.
If only I'd been able to,
he thought, but he worked to keep the smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he told Sinclair-Alexander. “I'm happy for you, Madge.”

“Thank you, Jim,” she said. “So how
are
you enjoying your retirement? No regrets?”

“Oh, plenty of regrets,” Kirk said with a laugh. “Just none of them I can do anything about now.” When Sinclair-Alexander peered at him just a bit askance, as though she had detected a seriousness in his jest, he quickly continued. “Actually, I'm enjoying retirement. I've been able to do a lot of things I never had time for.”

“Like what?” Sinclair-Alexander asked.

Kirk shrugged. “I've caught up on my reading…. Done some horseback riding…. I dove the Alandros Caves…. I climbed—”

“The Alandros Caves?” Sinclair-Alexander asked, her eyes widening. “That's a little more demanding than riding horses or reading.”

“And something Starfleet Command typically frowns on its captains doing on shore leave,” he said. “Which is why I'm finally getting to do it now.”

Sinclair-Alexander shook her head, on her face an expression that seemed to mix disbelief with appreciation. “Well, you'll have to tell me about that and all your other adventures when you come to dinner,” she said. “Unfortunately, I've got a meeting in a few minutes, so I need to talk to you about the reason I asked you here.”

He still fully expected the admiral to suggest that he return to Starfleet. “I've been afraid to ask,” Kirk said.

“Which is why you twice turned down Captain Strnod's invitation to meet,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “I appreciate that you agreed to come when it was me who asked.”

“How could I refuse?” Kirk said with a lightness he did not entirely feel. “So what is it?”

“Jim, we're launching a new
Excelsior
-class vessel next week, with a new captain and a young crew,” she said. “We'll be sending it out on a mission of deep space exploration, and we're calling it the
Enterprise.”

Kirk felt a moment's indignation at the prospect before a sense of pride rose within him. “I'm glad that the name's being perpetuated.”

“I thought you might be,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “Because of the name, it's been suggested that perhaps you would be willing to don your uniform one last time and be a guest of honor at the launch. You could christen the ship, perhaps even board it for a quick jaunt around the solar system.”

“Madge,” Kirk said. Though she hadn't entreated him to return to the space service, he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of becoming involved again even on the level she had suggested.

“I know, I know,” Sinclair-Alexander said, holding her hands up in front of her as though surrendering to his reluctance. “If it were up to me, Jim, I wouldn't even be asking. But you know as well as I do that Starfleet's image suffered a great deal when some of our own conspired to kill Chancellor Gorkon and President Ra-ghoratreii, to incite hostilities between us and the Klingons.” She shook her head as though in disbelief. Kirk understood. Much as he'd fostered an irrational hatred of the Klingons after the death of his son, even he hadn't acted to foment war with the Empire. “It's believed that Starfleet could really use the positive publicity it would bring to have you attend the launch of this new
Enterprise.
With your record, you're well known not only here on Earth, but throughout the Federation.”