The lieutenant wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “Sir?”
“Aren’t you paying attention, Mr. Kirk? I said I couldn’t have stood there and watched them kidnap the telepath either.”
“Yes, sir,” the upperclassman replied warily, wondering if the captain was playing some kind of game with them.
“So you are listening,” said Bannock. “That’s good, Lieutenant.” He stroked his chin. “Considering the serious nature of the situation and the favorable results you achieved, however the means, it would be the height of foolishness for me to bring charges against you. Instead, I’m going to file a commendation saying you displayed outstanding initiative, courage, and cleverness in the face of great odds.”
Kirk was feeling a little dizzy. “We did?”
“Of course we did,” said Mitchell, casting a sidelong glance at him.
The lieutenant recovered as best he could. “Uh ... Yes, sir.”
“If not for you two,” the captain noted, “the Heiren factions might never have been reunited. Both Heir’ocha and Heir’tza owe you a debt of gratitude. And as for me ... I’m proud of you. Proud of both of you.” He turned to the underclassman, a surprisingly mischievous gleam in his eye. “That means you, too, Mr. Mitchell.”
[257] The plebe smiled a rakish smile. “Why, thank you, sir. I’m glad we had the opportunity to be of service.”
Bannock harrumphed. “Don’t push it, Cadet.”
Mitchell straightened. “Don’t worry, sir, I won’t.”
“Good.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “You know, I may have been too quick to frown on a little insubordination. After what you showed me on Heir’tza, I’m going to have to consider it in a new light.”
The captain looked at Kirk as if he expected some kind of response. The lieutenant wasn’t sure what to say.
“That was a joke, son,” said Bannock. He turned to the other cadet. “Wasn’t it, Mr. Mitchell?”
Mitchell’s smile widened. “It certainly was, sir.”
“You know,” the captain told him, his voice taking on a confidential tone, “I don’t know what to do with Lieutenant Kirk sometimes. The man doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.”
“No, sir,” said the underclassman, “he doesn’t. But if you like, I could help him along in that regard.”
Bannock turned to Kirk and nodded approvingly. “Yes,” he said, “I believe I would like that. That is, if you think he’s salvageable.”
“I do, sir.”
“In that case,” the captain told him, “give it your best shot. Consider that an order.”
The lieutenant sighed. “Begging your pardon, Captain, but do I have a say in this?”
Bannock turned to him and shook his head emphatically from side to side. “You most certainly do not.”
[258] Kirk bit his lip. He had liked it better when Mitchell and the captain were at odds with each other.
“Well, then,” said the captain, “I guess we’re done here.” He got up from his seat, pulled down on his uniform shirt, and said, “Dismissed, gentlemen.” Then, with a chuckle to himself, he left the briefing room.
Mitchell turned to the upperclassman. “You see? Even Bannock thinks you need to loosen up.”
“Don’t start,” Kirk warned him.
“Don’t they tell jokes back in Iowa? Too much corn in their diets, maybe? Or do you think it’s a genetic problem?”
The lieutenant shot him a look of warning. “I said don’t start ...”
Mitchell didn’t see Kirk the rest of that day.
The underclassman spent the better part of it in engineering, learning some tricks of the trade from Chief Hogan. The lieutenant, on the other hand, passed the time ensconced in his favorite place—behind the helm controls of the Republic.
But that evening, at dinnertime, the cadets were reunited. Mitchell walked into the mess hall and saw Kirk sitting there—at a table all by himself, just like at the Academy.
The plebe wondered why that would be. After all, the man had friends here, Bannock among them. There was no reason why he should be eating alone. Grabbing a tray and some vaguely edible-looking Italian food, Mitchell went to join his fellow cadet.
[259] Noting his approach, the lieutenant looked up from his meal. He didn’t seem happy in the least.
“What is it?” asked the underclassman, sitting down opposite Kirk.
The lieutenant shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You’re sure?” asked Mitchell.
“I’m sure,” said Kirk. He aimlessly moved some spaghetti bolognese around his plate. “Incidentally,” he remarked, “I went to have another talk with Captain Bannock.”
Mitchell was interested. “What about?”
“I wanted to know why he put us on the same team on Heir’tza, considering he had promised to drive a wedge between us.”
“And?” asked the plebe.
“When I got to his quarters, he was speaking with some of the Heiren leaders.” The lieutenant grunted. “You’ll be happy to know everything’s going swimmingly on Heir’tza. The telepaths are doing a great job and the reconciliation is well under way. Oh ... and Ar Bintor survived those kidnappers. He’s resting now in a Heir’at medical facility.”
Mitchell nodded. “That’s good. I mean, it’s terrific, it’s wonderful. But what did Bannock say?” he asked, his curiosity aroused. “You know, about putting us together?”
Kirk twirled some pasta around his fork. “He said he wanted to test my resolve. He wanted to make sure I could resist your evil influences even when we were working shoulder to shoulder.”
It made sense, the plebe supposed. “And, of course, he wasn’t expecting any real trouble.”
[260] “Uh-huh. So it was a perfect time to conduct his experiment.”
“Which you failed, of course,” Mitchell observed.
“With flying colors,” the lieutenant responded.
He smiled—but only for a moment. Then he seemed to remember something and he turned somber again.
“You know,” said Mitchell, “you’re doing a good impersonation of that freezer unit again.”
“I know,” Kirk conceded.
“The captain wouldn’t like that,” the underclassman reminded him.
“No,” the lieutenant admitted, “I don’t suppose he would.” But that, it seemed, was all he cared to say on the subject.
Mitchell shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if you were to loosen up, I bet it would do wonders for your relationship with Phelana.”
The lieutenant winced.
“What?” asked the plebe, needing no flashes of intuition to realize he had hit a sore spot.
“I broke up with her,” Kirk told him bluntly.
Suddenly, Mitchell understood his friend’s malaise. “What made you do that?” he wondered.
The lieutenant shrugged. “I had to.”
“Had to?” the underclassman echoed.
Kirk nodded. “She wouldn’t make the jump.”
Mitchell was about to ask what his friend meant by that—and then he figured it out. There had been a bond between the lieutenant and Phelana—a recognition that they approached life the same way, with the same degree of purpose and determination. When the [261] Andorian informed Kirk that he had to jump off that roof without her, she was really admitting that that bond was no longer valid.
The lieutenant sighed as he maneuvered his food around some more. “I thought Phelana was special.”
“They’re all special,” Mitchell told him. “All amazing creatures, each of them in her own way. But that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?”
“What is?” Kirk asked him.
The plebe leaned forward. “Just when you think the perfect woman has dropped out of your life forever, an even more perfect woman shows up to take her place.”
The upperclassman glanced at him. “Maybe it works that way for you.”
“It can work that way for you, too, pal,” Mitchell assured him.
Kirk turn
ed to him. “Meaning?”
The plebe shrugged playfully. “Meaning your old buddy Gary doesn’t let any grass grow under his feet. Back at the Academy, when you were telling me you absolutely, positively didn’t want me to set you up with a date ... well, I happened to run into this first-year engineering student—this very attractive first-year engineering student—with the biggest baby blue eyes and the most incredible laugh ...”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said the lieutenant.
“She’d be perfect for you,” Mitchell insisted.
Kirk shook his head. “I can’t let myself get involved with someone else now. It’s too soon.”
The underclassman stared at him. “Too soon ... ? Come on, Jim. Phelana’s not dead, she’s just—”
[262] “You say ... she’s attractive?” the lieutenant asked abruptly.
Mitchell was surprised. “Uh, yeah. Very attractive.”
“And ... what kind of laugh ... ?”
“An incredible laugh,” the plebe told him. “But, really, I think you should hear it in person and judge for yourself.”
Kirk’s eyes fixed on infinity as he considered the prospect. “You know, maybe I should, at that.”
“You mean just as soon as you get over Phelana.”
His friend snapped out of his reverie. “Right,” he said. “As soon as I get over Phelana.”
Mitchell laughed. Then he reached across the table and clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“What?” asked the lieutenant.
“Nothing,” said the plebe. “Just eat your spaghetti.”
Jim Kirk was still a project, Mitchell mused. He still had a long way to go, a lot of rough edges to smooth over before he was done. But the man was starting to show signs of promise.
“Come on,” the underclassman said. “Finish up, already. I want to see if we can get into some real trouble.”
Chapter Twenty-one
KIRK TURNED TO SPOCK, his memories of Gary and the Republic already fading in his mind’s eye. He sat back heavily in his chair, feeling the weight of the intervening years.
“And that was it,” he said. “We completed our survey mission and returned to Earth, where we resumed our studies.”
Of course, the captain had “cleaned up” the story a little to accommodate the Vulcan’s sense of propriety, and left things out that were nobody’s business but his own. Outside of that, however, he had related it pretty much as he remembered it.
“You were friends again,” Spock observed.
“Yes,” said Kirk. “Better friends than before, in fact.”
The Vulcan nodded. “Fascinating.”
[264] The captain looked at him askance. “You mean that, Spock? Or are you just saying it to be polite?”
“My comment was sincere,” the other man assured him. “I was genuinely intrigued by your tale.”
“And why is that?” Kirk wondered.
The Vulcan shrugged. “Lieutenant Mitchell had a significantly greater influence on you than I would have imagined.”
“Influence?” the captain echoed. “You mean in terms of ‘loosening me up,’ as Gary put it?”
“No,” said Spock, raising an eyebrow. “I’m referring to something else entirely. Prior to meeting Lieutenant Mitchell, it seems you were rather conservative in your choice of strategies. It was he, apparently, who showed you the value of taking risks.”
“Showed me ... ?” Kirk began. He dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “Believe me, Spock, it wasn’t that way at all.”
“Your account would seem to indicate otherwise,” the Vulcan replied matter-of-factly.
The captain chuckled. “Despite what Gary may have said, I took lots of chances before I met him. Too many to count.”
The first officer regarded him. “For example?”
Kirk thought about it for thirty seconds or more. Surprisingly, nothing leaped out at him.
“All right,” he said. “Maybe I can’t come up with an example on the spur of the moment. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t plenty of times I leaped before I looked.”
Still, even as the captain uttered the words, he [265] began to wonder ... was there a seed of truth in what Spock was saying? Was Gary the one who had taught him to take chances?
He had been tap-dancing for so long, bluffing with the best of them, it was difficult for him to see himself any other way. But maybe ... just maybe ... his first officer had a point.
“Perhaps you are right,” Spock responded. “It is difficult for me to say, not having been present at the time. In any case, it was merely an observation, of no real practical importance. If I were you, I would not concern myself with it.”
In other words, Kirk thought, the Vulcan was letting him off the hook. He felt a pang of gratitude.
Spock’s brow crinkled. “I have a question, sir. The order imposed on the cadets that night on the Republic ... ?”
“When Commander Mangione confined us to our quarters?”
“Yes,” the Vulcan confirmed. “Did you make any further attempts to discover the reason for the restriction?”
Kirk shook his head. “I didn’t. I was certain that whatever happened that night would remain Starfleet’s little secret. In fact, I was told at one point that no one under the rank of admiral could access the file.”
“I see,” said the first officer. “In that case, you must have been surprised when you did find out.”
“Didn’t I look surprised?” the captain asked.
Spock thought back to the events of a few months [266] earlier. “It was difficult to tell at the time,” he decided:. “I still have trouble deciphering human expressions.”
Kirk smiled. “Then trust me—I was surprised, all right. I was very surprised.”
The Vulcan nodded. Then he unfolded his slender frame and got up from his chair. “I should return to the bridge.”
The captain nodded. “I’ll be up there soon enough myself.”
Spock turned to go. But before he reached the door, Kirk made a point of clearing his throat.
The first officer looked back at him. “Yes, sir?”
The captain shrugged. “Thanks.”
Spock tilted his head. “For ... ?”
“For listening,” Kirk told him. He smiled. “That’s all, really. Just for listening.”
The Vulcan seemed to understand. What’s more, the captain gathered, Spock appeared to take some pride in his contribution.
“You are welcome,” he said.
Then the first officer departed Kirk’s quarters, leaving the captain all by himself. But it was all right for him to be alone now. He felt better having told Spock his story.
Turning to his monitor, he took a deep breath. Then he opened a new file and began entering some notes. After all, Kelso’s funeral would take place in a few hours, and he wanted to do the man justice.
“Captain?” came a voice.
Responding to his communications officer, Kirk glanced at the ceiling. “Yes, Mr. Dezago?”
[267] “You have a message, sir. From Earth.”
The captain had a feeling he knew who it was from. He felt a shadow fall over him.
“Put it through,” he told Dezago.
“Aye, sir,” said the officer.
A moment later, Kirk’s monitor showed him the face of Gary’s father. Thomas Mitchell was a broad, powerful-looking man with thinning gray hair and his son’s dark eyes. His face was hollow-cheeked with grief, making him look old beyond his years.
“We got the news this morning, Jim. Naturally, we’re ...” His voice caught and cracked. “We’re devastated,” he said. “But then, I’m sure you are, too. Nobody was closer to Gary than you were.”
The captain felt a lump in his throat. He tried to swallow it away, but it wouldn’t budge.
“We’re going to hold the funeral here in New York,” Gary’s father went on doggedly. “A week from today—that’s Tuesday. I know you’ll want to attend. And if you don’t mind ...” Ag
ain, Thomas Mitchell seemed to find himself stricken speechless for a moment. “If you don’t mind, Jim, we’d like you to deliver the eulogy.”
Kirk nodded. “Of course,” he said out loud, as if Gary’s father could hear him across the light-years that separated them. “Of course.”
It was the least he could do ... considering he was the man who had killed Thomas Mitchell’s son.
About the e-Book
(OCT, 2003)—Scanned, proofed, and formatted by Bibliophile.
STAR TREK: TOS #85 - My Brother's Keeper, Book One - Republic Page 20