The Autobiography of James T. Kirk (23 page)

“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 his 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?”

“I graduated early,” she said. “I’m taking a year off before I go to college. Dad arranged a job for me here so we could be a little closer.” There was too much for me to process.

“You must be very proud of her,” I said to Ben.

“Yes, Captain,” he said, a little too formally. Jamie picked up on the awkwardness.

“I’m lucky the
Enterprise
is here for so long,” she said. “I don’t think Dad and I have had this much time together since he was at the academy.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your meal,” I said. “It was great seeing you, Jamie.” Upon saying her name, I could see Ben scowl; it hurt him that he’d named her after me. As I walked back to join Spock and McCoy, I realized that this was still an open wound.

“The imposter’s back where he belongs. Let’s forget him,” I said. But I couldn’t forget him. He was back inside me, and I had all his memories. And they were monstrous. And I was beginning to understand what Pike had been talking about.

I’d been the victim of a transporter accident and been split into two people. But these weren’t two evenly split halves. I had never ascribed human intelligence to a machine before, but I couldn’t help but feel that the transporter itself decided to have some “fun” with the idea of good and evil. To use Freudian terminology, one half got both the id and the ego; he was brutal, savage, but also clever and resourceful. The other half had the morality, the superego. They were both me, and neither could live without the other.

We’d managed to keep what happened to me from most of the ship’s population; Spock rightly pointed out that if the crew saw me as this vulnerable and human, I’d lose the almost inpenetrable image of perfection that allowed a captain to command. We just referred to the savage half as “the imposter,” implying that some human or alien had taken on my form. The crew was familiar with the legend of the shape-shifting Chameloids, and now many believed they’d met one. But he was not an imposter. He was a part of myself.

Scotty and Spock had repaired the transporter, and my two halves were thrust back together. I was in command again, walking to my chair, when Yeoman Rand intercepted me.

My old yeoman, Bateson, had been promoted and transferred, and I hadn’t been happy when I’d been assigned an attractive female yeoman; McCoy joked that I didn’t trust myself. He was right; she was a compelling distraction. But whatever my personal attraction to her, I knew there was no hope for us; I was her commanding officer, and when one person wields that much power professionally over the other, it can’t lead to a real relationship.

But my savage half had no need to abide by this wisdom, or show Janice any respect. He tried to use the power of his position, and when she refused, he’d assaulted her, or tried to. And his memories were now mine. As I stood looking at her, I remembered what he, or rather, what I, had done to her; her screams, struggling in my grip. I was nauseous, angry. I wanted to go back in time and stop that monster, but I was the monster.

“Sir, the imposter told me what happened,” Rand said, quietly. I remember him telling her that I’d been split in half. She knew he
wasn’t
an imposter. She knew.

“I just want to say …” she said. “Well, I just want you to know …” She didn’t know what to say, but she wanted to make me feel better. I realized that she thought she understood, but she’d gotten it wrong; she thought the transporter
made
an evil Kirk. She really didn’t understand that the evil Kirk was always there in me. It was making me feel worse; I could barely look at her. But I smiled.

“Thank you, Yeoman.” I went to my command chair. I would try to face it, to accept it, but it was impossible.

“Lieutenant Robert Tomlinson and Ensign Angela Martine have requested a marriage ceremony,” Spock said, “and they would like you to perform it.” I laughed reflexively, then remembered Spock wouldn’t come all the way to my quarters to do a comedic bit. Once I realized he was serious, I had a different response.

“How wonderful,” I said, unable to control my sarcasm. I suppose I should’ve been touched, but for reasons I couldn’t quite identify, I found the whole thing annoying.

“We will have to schedule a time. Also, Ensign Martine is a Catholic,” Spock said, “and she wishes to have the ceremony reflect the traditions of that religion.” I knew nothing about the practices of ancient Earth religions.

“How different is Catholic than Christian?”

“They both come from the same root religion, but there are specific details of the wedding service—”

“Never mind,” I said. “Just have somebody write up what I’m supposed to say, and I’ll say it.” Tomlinson was currently the officer in charge of weapons control, and Martine was doing a tour in that department. I had specifically recruited Martine less than two years before; she graduated second in her class at the academy, had a wide range of specialties. I saw a lot of potential for her as a member of my crew. I didn’t initially understand why I had such a negative reaction to the idea of the two of them getting married, but I was silently determined to put a stop to it. “Have them report to me, immediately.”

“Yes sir,” Spock said, and left. A few minutes later, the door chime sounded, and Tomlinson and Martine came in. I had them sit opposite me on the other side of my desk. Tomlinson was boyish, friendly, and in my estimation wasn’t Martine’s equal. I wanted to talk them out of this.

“So, first, congratulations,” I said.

“Thank you, sir,” they both said, unintentionally in unison. Then they looked at each other and giggled.

“This is a big step. How long have you two …” I let the implication hang in the air for a moment. Tomlinson jumped right in.

“Not very long, sir,” he said. “I’ve strictly obeyed the rules regarding fraternization with subordinates.”

“Then forgive me, how do you know you want to get married?” It was a harsh thing to say, and Tomlinson wasn’t ready for it. He looked like I’d just killed his pet dog.

“We’re in love, sir,” Martine said.

“You have no doubts,” I said. “Because you will have to make sacrifices.”

“That is what love is about,” she said. And as a show of solidarity and love, she took Tomlinson’s hand.

And I felt like a fool. What was I trying to do? Break up a couple, because I was unconvinced of their love? I looked at these two young people and remembered the intensity of affection and desire. I realized I was jealous; I was envious that they’d found each other.

“Yes,” I said, chastised, “that is what love is about.” I took a pause, then added that I was honored to perform the service. As they thanked me and left my quarters, hand in hand, these two people reminded me of my parents. They bore no physical resemblance, but something about their feeling for each other evoked Mom and Dad.

Six days later, the wedding ceremony was interrupted by the Romulans.

A hundred years before, Earth engaged in a war with the enigmatic species. It was a war fought in space, on ships; no ground troops, no captives, against an enemy we never met face-to-face. The peace treaty was negotiated by subspace radio. Earth had defeated the Romulans and put them behind a Neutral Zone, cut off from the rest of the Galaxy. Outposts constructed on asteroids monitored the border, making sure the Romulans never crossed it. For a century we’d heard nothing from them, and then they came across with two new weapons: a working invisibility cloak for their ship and a catasrophically destructive plasma weapon, which they used to destroy our outposts. They were testing our resolve, looking for an easy victim. We’d engage them, and along the way, would discover a secret that would affect politics in the quadrant for decades to come.

“I believe I can get a look at their bridge,” Spock said, early on in our engagement with the invisible ship. He had intercepted a communication and was using his creative technical wizardry to follow the transmission back to its source. On our viewscreen, we got a look at the cramped control room of the Romulan ship and the face of its commander.

Pointed ears, slanted eyebrows, he could’ve been Spock’s father.

It was a revelation: the Vulcans and the Romulans were the same species—the Romulans an offshoot, a lost colony. It was fascinating to think about; when the war with the Romulans occurred, we had only known the Vulcans for a few decades. Would Earthmen and Vulcans been able to form a lasting friendship if this connection were known? It made me think that perhaps if it had been known, Starfleet Command might have kept it a secret all this time because of the negative connotations the war had for so many on Earth.
*

I didn’t think it would matter a century later, though I was quickly proven wrong. My navigator, Lieutenant Stiles, whose ancestors had fought in that war, immediately decided upon seeing the Romulans that Spock was a spy.

I wasn’t having a lot of luck with navigators. Bailey had left after it became clear he wasn’t ready for the position. I’d tried a few others who weren’t up to snuff, and now here was Stiles, who showed the terrible judgment to openly insult his superior officer based on his looks. To Spock’s credit, he didn’t let it affect him. Or at least he said it didn’t. But I wasn’t going to have it; it was ridiculous, raw, and obvious bigotry, and as soon as I could replace Stiles, I would. But not in the middle of a crisis.