The Autobiography of James T. Kirk (4 page)

“Yes,” Mallory said. “He was heading to San Francisco, but his pilot refused to follow our landing procedures and got into some trouble. A few more minutes exposed to the radiation in that craft and he would’ve died. You helped prevent an intergalactic incident, son. You’re a real hero.”

“Thanks,” I said. I couldn’t hold back my smile.

“You’re going to go live with your mom for a little while,” Dad said. It was June of 2245, I was 12, and Grandma Hilde had just passed away. Sam, at 15, had gained early acceptance to the University of Chicago and would be starting there in a few months. Mom had made the suggestion that I come to live with her, and though Dad resisted it, I was thrilled.

Since my encounter with the Tellarite ambassador, I had definitely become more interested with everything associated with other planets. I had started to ask my father if he thought I should join Starfleet, and was always surprised at how little enthusiasm he had for it. He would tell me how competitive gaining entrance to the academy was, even for the children of graduates, and he also constantly emphasized to me the careers available to people on Earth. I could tell that he was worried that my experience with the Tellarite had filled me with delusions of heroic grandeur; and at that point, he might have been right.

On top of the adventure of moving to a new planet, I was actually going to be traveling there by myself. Dad, however, was not ready to entrust me to the crew of a ship, so he made contact with a family that was moving to Tarsus IV, and they agreed to look after me for the two-month trip. Still, to be going somewhere without a parent at the age of 12 was exciting.

A couple of months later, I was packed and ready to go. Sam had already left for school, so it was just Dad taking me to the shuttle port in Riverside in his hover car. We drove in silence on the half-hour trip along the highway that connected our farm to the city.

The port was a small one; shuttles connected to the major cities of Earth, and one made the trip each day to Earth One, the orbital facility in space. When we arrived, Dad and I went to look for the family who I was going to be traveling with.

“George!” A big bearlike man with unkempt hair barreled toward us and warmly shook Dad’s hand.

“Rod, this is my son Jim,” Dad said. “Jim, this is Rod Leighton.” The big man looked down at me and gave me a pat on the shoulder.

“Jim! Nice to meet you! Come meet the family!”

Rod led us over to the shuttle boarding entrance, where a diminutive woman and a boy about my age were waiting.

“Hello, Barbara,” Dad said to the woman. She gave him a hug, then turned and looked at me.

“Jim, it’s going to be a pleasure having you with us,” she said. She gave me a warm smile.

“Are you kidding, we’re lucky he’s letting us come with him,” Rod said. He then turned to the boy. “Tom, introduce yourself. You guys are going to be spending a lot of time together.”

“I’m Tom,” he said. There was a little bit of sarcasm in his voice, but he put his hand out and I shook it. This less-than-auspicious beginning to my relationship with Tom Leighton was interrupted by an announcement over the public address system.

“Attention, this is the final boarding call for Orbital Flight 37 …”

“That’s us,” Rod said.

I turned to look at my dad. This was the first moment in all the months leading up to this trip that I realized I’d be leaving him.

“Don’t give the Leightons any trouble,” he said.

“I won’t.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he said. “Take care of your mom. Be safe out there.”

I thought he would give me a hug, but instead he held out his hand for me to shake. I shook it. We then all turned to board the shuttle. I turned back and saw him standing there. He smiled at me and waved me on. I was leaving him, without Mom or Sam in the house, all alone on the farm. And I was guilty, not because I wanted to stay, but because I really wanted to go. I felt I was finally getting to say goodbye to my childhood, and in truth I was, but not in the way that I thought.

We climbed aboard the shuttle, and Rod got us seats near one of the portholes. My face stayed plastered to the window as we took off. The gravity plating and inertial dampeners on the shuttle made it almost impossible to sense you were moving at all; it made the world outside look like a movie. As the shuttle banked before heading out into space, I caught sight of my dad, standing in the port alone, watching us go. I waved, but he couldn’t see me.

We cleared the atmosphere in less than five minutes and were suddenly in orbit. It was my first time in space, and it was stunning to see the big blue marble of Earth below, the sky filled with spaceships and satellites, and finally Earth One, the large orbital station that serviced and supplied the ships that came into orbit. We were flying to Tarsus on the
S.S. New Rochelle
, which was in a parking orbit away from the station. It was a supply ship, an old Class-J cargo tug with an updated engine. As we approached, the ship looked huge; it had a forward command section, and a long thin hull in the back that housed modular cargo holds. It looked like an ancient railroad train in space.

The shuttle docked at an airlock near the forward command section. I grabbed my duffel bag and followed the Leightons as we entered through a docking tunnel. A crewwoman holding a tablet checked us in, then directed us aft. We passed a few open hatchways to modular cargo pods, where we could see crewmen who worked busily in the cavernous holds, stacking crates and storage containers.

We reached a hatch to the rearmost cargo hold, and Rod led us inside. As we entered, we saw that it wasn’t cavernous like the others. The interior had been redesigned; walls and corridors had been inserted to create several floors of passenger quarters. We found our stateroom.

“Here it is,” Rod said. “Home sweet home.” It was small, with two bunk beds, two closets, and four drawers for storage. But it was clean and spare, and I found its small size and efficiency somehow exciting. Rod went over to one of the bunk beds.

“I’m on top,” he said, with a wink to his wife. She looked genuinely annoyed and slapped his shoulder. Rod then turned to me and Tom.

“What say you, boys? You want to go find a porthole and watch us leave orbit?” Rod didn’t even wait for a response; he was out the door and Tom and I were on his heels. We headed forward and crossed through two cargo holds and reached the entrance to the command and drive section. There was a guard posted who stopped us.

“Sorry, authorized personnel only,” he said.

“Oh, apologies, the captain’s son wanted to see us leave orbit,” Rod said, indicating me. “I figured it wouldn’t be a problem. Come on, boys, let’s—”

“Wait … whose son?” The guard looked worried. “He’s Captain Mayweather’s son?”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand you’ve got orders. Come on, boys …”

Rod led us back the way we came, but the guard stopped us.

“I can let you into the command section, but you have to stay where I put you …”

“You sure? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“It’s okay, but as soon as we go to warp, you have to come back.”

“Sure, fine.”

The guard led us into the command section; he indicated an access ladder, and we left him behind as we climbed it. The ladder led to a forward observation deck. It was cramped, barely enough room for the three of us, but the view port filled up the whole wall. It was like we were standing in outer space, looking out on Earth and all the spaceships in orbit.

“Mr. Leighton, how did you know the captain had a son?” I said.

“I didn’t,” Rod said, smiling. “And you can call me Rod.”

I laughed. A bluff! And it was quite a big one we found out when we later met Captain Mayweather, whose dark skin indicated a pure African ancestry. He was also well over 100.

We were only on the observation deck for a few moments before we noticed Earth and the ships in orbit slipping away. As Earth moved behind us, I noticed off to the right in the distance a metal web surrounding a large space vehicle. It was a ship in dry dock. As we got closer, I could make out small repair craft buzzing about it. The superstructure of the dry dock kept me from getting a complete look at the ship, but it had the familiar saucer and two-engine nacelle design of many Starfleet vessels. Yet somehow it seemed larger and different than any ship I’d seen before.

“Dad, what ship is that?” Tom said. I was so intent on getting a better look at the ship I hadn’t noticed Tom looking as well.

“One of the new
Constitution
-class ships,
”
Rod said.

“What’s the
Constitution
class?” Tom said.

“They say it’s going to be faster than any ship ever built,” he said. “It’s going to be able to survive in space without maintenance and resupply the way most ships have to. They have high hopes for it.”

We passed the dry dock and then it and the ship were gone. It would be a number of years before I got a better look at it.

*
EDITOR’S NOTE:
Though Isaac Cody was a well-known and successful developer in the region during the 19th century, there is no record of him selling a farm to Franklin Kirk.

*
EDITOR’S NOTE:
The translation of the Sioux name “Ogaleesha” is “Wears a Red Shirt.”

THE TWO-MONTH TRIP TO TARSUS IV
was uneventful and eventually quite dull. Tom Leighton and I were the only two kids on the voyage, and by the time it was over we knew every detail of the ship and about each other. Tom reminded me a lot of Sam; he was smart and quiet, loved to read, and wanted to be a scientist. Once he got comfortable with me, I found him to be an engaging friend. He often pulled weird facts out of his head that were always interesting and entertaining.

One night, while everyone was asleep, he woke me up, excited.

“Come on, Jim, I found out where the artificial gravity generator is.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but I got dressed and joined him as we headed out to the catwalk that led to the rest of the ship. Like most ships in Starfleet, the
New Rochelle
tried to imitate Earth’s conditions of day and night, so this was the late shift and most of the crew were off duty and asleep.

Tom led me to a ladder that went down to the bottom of the main hull. When we reached the deck, he indicated a hatch.

“Right behind that is the artificial generator for the entire ship,” he said. “It took me a while to figure out where it was.”

“Congratulations,” I said. I was really tired and not a little confused.

“Come on,” he said, and immediately headed off.

“Where the hell are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

We headed back up the ladder, and then forward again. We then snuck into a cargo hold and stopped on the catwalk. We were about 100 feet off the floor of the hold, which was partially filled with storage containers.

“According to my measurements, we’re about halfway between the artificial gravity generator and the bow plate.” Tom put his hands on the railing of the catwalk.

“So?”

“Watch.” Tom pushed hard on the railing and suddenly was rising off the deck. He flipped over and landed, feetfirst on the ceiling. It looked like he was standing upside down.