The Autobiography of James T. Kirk (37 page)

“Sir, I’m picking up a group of strange readings,” Chekov said from his security station. “Some kind of subspace displacement.”

“Location?” I said.

“I can’t pinpoint it,” he said. “But it’s definitely on the other side of the Klingon Neutral Zone.” I got up out of my chair and went over to Spock at the science station. He wasn’t detecting any ships, and I wondered whether the displacement was caused by cloaking devices.

“If so,” Spock said, “in order for us to read the subspace displacement, it would have to be a large number of ships.” Up to this point, the Klingons, as far as we knew, didn’t use cloaking devices. But several years earlier, they had either shared or sold their ships and ship design to the Romulans. It made sense that, in trade, they had acquired the Romulans’ cloaking technology.

I ordered Sulu to execute a course near where the readings were, but staying on our side of the zone. We hadn’t had any specific trouble from the Klingons in a while, but if they had use of cloaking technology, they would have a tactical advantage, and they might decide to violate the treaty.

We reached the closest coordinates to the reading we could without crossing the Neutral Zone, and could detect that the displacements were following a straight course moving along the border but not crossing it. I ordered a parallel course at the same speed. If the ships were cloaked, I wanted them to know that we knew they were there. I had to admit the possibility of engaging the Klingons excited me. It was dangerous, but I was confident in my ability to deal with them.

After a few tense hours tracking the course of the displacements, Uhura turned to me. We were being hailed, but from an unknown source. I turned to Spock.

“I think we got their attention,” I said. “Put them on, Uhura.”

On the viewscreen, the stars were replaced by Kor. He was on the bridge of his ship. I hadn’t seen him since our encounter on Organia. He looked somewhat older, had put on a little weight. His hair was longer and thicker, as the Klingons were now wearing it, and was mostly gray. He still looked dangerous, intimidating; he gave me his greasiest smile.

“Captain Kirk,” he said.

“Commander Kor,” I said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect you to know this,” he said, “but I’m a general now.” He looked me over carefully, then gave me a look of insincere sympathy. “Sorry to see your superiors don’t value you to the same degree.”

I smiled and decided not to give in to this by explaining I’d already been an admiral. Instead I inquired about where he was calling from and told him that we weren’t detecting a ship in the area. He said that it wasn’t important where he was, then made an unusual pledge.

“Captain,” he said, “you have my word of honor as a Klingon warrior that, wherever I am, it does not concern you or the Federation. I would encourage you to move away from the Neutral Zone, however, as it may provoke a reaction you do not intend.” I looked at him. He was trying to tell me something. I signaled Uhura to cut off the transmission, and turned to Spock.

“Duplicity is not outside the Klingon code of behavior,” he said. “But I do not think he’s involved in an action against the Federation.”

“I agree, sir,” Sulu said. “He wouldn’t have given himself away.”

I decided that
we
might be giving him away. He was worried that, by tracking his course, we were calling attention to his position to whoever his intended target was. I had Spock plot a possible destination based on the course information we already had.

“It would seem, Captain,” Spock said, “that they are headed for Romulus.”

Were the Klingons starting a war with the Romulans? Is that what we’d stumbled onto? A surprise attack? It would make sense. The Organian Peace Treaty had tied the Klingons’ hands as far as the Federation was concerned, and the policy of containment by Starfleet had worked. The Klingons needed resources, and the Romulans had a lot of valuable worlds.

I reopened communications and told Kor we were leaving the area. I then told Uhura to get Admiral Nogura on the line, and went to my quarters to talk to him in private.

“We had intelligence that the Klingons were building new ships,” Nogura said on the viewscreen. “This, however, is a complete surprise.”

“Do you think this is a result of them straining their resources to keep up with our defenses on the border?” I said.

“Who knows?” he said. “And who cares? This doesn’t concern us.” I felt, however, that it did. I suggested that there was an opportunity here. The Klingons wouldn’t reach Romulus for another 24 hours. They were about to engage in a war that could cost millions, or even billions, of lives. It seemed like this gave us leverage with both parties. But Nogura wasn’t interested.

“It’s a moot point,” he said. “The Prime Directive says we can’t interfere with the internal politics of another government.” I could see from his expression that he was using this as a dodge, hiding behind principles to serve a less than noble end. I could also see he had no patience for my suggestions. The relationship between us had become very strained; what I’d done to get the
Enterprise
back had created a serious rift. But I still tried to do my job and pushed a little harder, suggesting he take it to the Federation Council, who might have success if they pursued a quiet and careful diplomacy that would serve the entire quadrant.

“I think what would serve the quadrant,” he said, “is if they wiped each other out. The matter is closed. Nogura out.” This was worrisome; Nogura had always had hawkish instincts, but sitting by and letting our enemies kill each other indicated a cold-bloodedness that I didn’t expect. I had no love for the Klingons or the Romulans, but war didn’t serve anyone. Yet there was nothing I could do about it.

I went about my work, and a few days later on the bridge, Uhura said she was receiving battle transmissions.

“They’re Romulan, sir,” she said. “Romulus is under attack.”

Everyone on the bridge looked at me. My orders were clear; we couldn’t interfere. And I didn’t know what I would even do if we could. I could see, though, the crew expected me to do something.

“Very well,” I said. “Inform Starfleet Command, and continue to monitor those frequencies. We’ll continue on course to Starbase 10.” I sat in my chair. There was a war going on, and we weren’t invited. It was good news that the Federation wasn’t involved, but it also gave me a sense of helplessness. I convinced myself I was angry that Starfleet was no longer the instrument of peace and civilization I believed it to be. In fact, upon reflection, I was craving action, but the Galaxy had changed. I wasn’t sure I belonged out there anymore.

“Mr. Chekov would like a transfer,” Spock said. It was during our morning meeting.

“What? Why?”

“There is an opening on the
U.S.S. Reliant
that he would like to pursue.”

I’d had Chekov as a member of the
Enterprise
crew for now almost ten years. He’d grown from an eager, hardworking navigator to a very capable head of security and weapons control. He’d received his promotions through the ranks from ensign to lieutenant commander at a little better than the average pace, so I couldn’t begin to understand why he’d want to leave. Spock called for him, and he quickly arrived. The position he was seeking on
Reliant
was first officer, definitely a step up. I couldn’t match it, but still wanted to make a pitch for him to stay. Maybe we could give him more responsibilities, different duties. But Chekov smiled and cut me off.

“Sir,” he said, “please don’t misunderstand me. I have cherished my time serving with you, but I feel that my career is standing still. I’m not embarrassed to admit to some ambition, and I think I am being honest when I say I will never be captain of this ship, or even first officer. There are too many people ahead of me.” I was about to jump in and disagree with him, when I noticed Spock and the acknowledgment in his expression. And I had to accept the truth of what Chekov was saying.

For an ambitious officer, the
Enterprise
was a dead-end job. I wasn’t going anywhere, and as long as I was here, Spock was staying, Scotty wasn’t leaving, and Sulu and Uhura were more senior than Chekov.

“Fair enough, Mr. Chekov,” I said. “I’ll approve the transfer.”

It started me thinking about what I was accomplishing on the
Enterprise
. There were a lot of people aboard who were qualified to command. And I was keeping them all here, all to keep myself comfortable.

It turned out Chekov got off the
Enterprise
just in time.

We finished our second five-year mission with a lot less fanfare than the first. On our way back to Earth, I did what I could for the crew. I felt both Spock and Sulu should make the captains’ list and get ships of their own. I put Uhura and McCoy in for promotions and told them both that they were free to leave if they wanted to. I didn’t quite know what was next for me, but I planned on staying with the
Enterprise
.

When we reached Earth, I was called into Nogura’s office. Cartwright and Morrow were there. It might’ve been a friendly reunion, but Nogura got right to business.

“I’m giving Spock the
Enterprise
,” he said. I could see the other two admirals avoiding eye contact with me. I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Sir, I’d still like to stay in command,” I said.

“We need you here,” Nogura said. “I’m making you fleet captain. Congratulations.” Fleet captain. I remembered when they gave that rank to Pike, he said it was a desk job, one without influence. Nogura was mocking me and wasn’t trying to hide it.

He was done with me; I’d played his game and lost. He’d used my five-year mission to keep me out of the way while he undoubtedly scrubbed any evidence of wrongdoing involving the incident on Dimorous. Now, he was sticking me at a desk, where I would stay for the remainder of my career, influencing nothing. I only saw one way out.

“You resigned? You let him win?” I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen McCoy this angry.

“Bones, I’d already lost,” I said. We were at an outdoor cafe in the Embarcadero. Nogura, I found out, wasn’t just putting me out to pasture; he wasn’t accepting the transfers of any officers off the
Enterprise
. They would all have to stay there, or resign their commissions. He’d made Spock captain, which was the only way he could justify taking the ship away from me. Scotty’s, Sulu’s, and Uhura’s careers would advance no further, at least as long as Nogura was in charge. He understood revenge; it pained me to admit that my political posturing had cost not just me but the people closest to me.