The Autobiography of James T. Kirk (30 page)

I told him it might have been simpler to let me die. He was confused, until I pointed out that it was a “battle to the death,” and that we’d just committed fraud on Vulcan’s most revered leader. Something that I didn’t think the Vulcan government was going to appreciate.

“I have a solution,” McCoy said. “Don’t tell them.”

“Bones, this isn’t a joke—”

“I’m not joking,” he said. “T’Pau’s never going to see you again, and I don’t think she’s following the comings and goings of Starfleet captains.” He made a fair point. It did seem unlikely that T’Pau would ever run into me again. At least at that moment. And there really wasn’t anything I could do about it anyway.

Shortly, Spock came back aboard and couldn’t control his emotions upon seeing me. He burst out with a big smile and bellowed “Jim!” as he grabbed me. He then immediately went back to his normal controlled self. It was a rare moment of affection that I will always remember.

I watched Matt Decker die.

His murderer was a robot planet killer. It was several miles long, constructed of neutronium, with an anti-proton beam that allowed it to destroy planets and use the debris for fuel. It was an ancient machine from another galaxy, perhaps millions of years old. It had already destroyed three solar systems and was working on the fourth when Matt Decker’s ship, the
Constellation
, tried to stop it. The result was a wrecked ship and a dead crew.

We found the
Constellation
, drifting, burnt, and broken. It was like looking at the
Enterprise
in a cracked mirror. Matt was the only one aboard; he had tried to save his crew by beaming them down to a planet, which the planet killer quickly destroyed. He was catatonic, weak, unshaven, on the verge of hysteria. He in no way resembled the confident, hardscrabble shipmaster I’d come to know. He was overcome with his failure. That would lead him to escape and commit suicide by taking a shuttlecraft into the maw of the machine.

His death was not completely in vain. The shuttle’s explosion caused minor damage inside the planet killer, which I took advantage of and aimed the wrecked
Constellation
inside the giant construct. Once it entered the machine, I blew its engines up. The planet killer was defeated.

From the bridge of the
Enterprise
, I looked at the dead hulk of neutronium on the viewscreen. And I thought about the first time I’d met Matt Decker; he was with his son. When Matt decided to commit suicide, had he forgotten about him? But perhaps he didn’t want to face his child after the disgrace of losing his ship. His son must now be serving on a starship somewhere. It made me think of my son, whom I hadn’t spoken to in so many years. I hoped if he knew about me, I had been painted favorably. With that in mind, later that night I recorded my log.

“Captain’s log, 4229.7, we have successfully deactivated the planet killer that destroyed the solar systems previously reported. Commodore Matt Decker was in the
Enterprise
’s shuttlecraft
Columbus
making his way back to the
Constellation
to lend me assistance when he was caught in the planet killer’s tractor beam. Knowing he couldn’t escape, he set his engines to overload. This selfless act provided necessary data on the possible weaknesses of the device that allowed me to use the
Constellation
’s engines in a similar way to deactivate the machine. Recommend highest posthumous honors for Commodore Decker.”

It was the truth, with a sprinkling of fiction, for his son.
*

Dilithium crystals are a necessary component of warp engines. The unique properties of the crystals allow for precise control of the matter/antimatter reactions that propel starships faster than light. Unfortunately, the crystals don’t exist everywhere, so when sensors detected them on the planet Halkan, the Federation dispatched the
Enterprise
to try to make a mining treaty.

The Halkans were a race that had already been to space and decided it wasn’t for them. They had a peaceful, thriving society, and they greeted us with friendship. But they weren’t interested in letting us mine dilithium on their planet. They had a dogmatic code and would prefer to die as a race than let their dilithium be used in the taking of one life. McCoy, Scotty, Uhura, and I did our best to make the case for the peacefulness of the Federation, but to no avail. And while we were on the planet, an ion storm moved in, engulfing the
Enterprise
as well. Since my ship was getting damaged, and I didn’t seem to be getting anywhere with the Halkans, I called a temporary end to negotiations and had my landing party beamed up.

Like a hundred transports I’d been on, I started to see the
Enterprise
’s transporter fade in around me, but then it faded out again. I felt dizzy, and when we finally materialized, everything was different.

The room was darker. Spock and Transporter Chief Kyle gave us a strange salute. Their uniforms were more ornate.

And Spock had a beard.

I instinctively knew that we were in danger. I decided to play things close to my vest. (And I looked down and saw I was actually wearing a vest, a gold one.) I soon discovered that “standard procedure” was to destroy the Halkans if they didn’t give us the dilithium crystals. I then watched as Spock
tortured
Lieutenant Kyle for some minor mistake during our beam-up with a small device called an agonizer. This was an insane world, and I had to get some time alone with the landing party to try to figure this out.

I made an excuse, and the four of us went to McCoy’s lab for some privacy. I theorized that beaming up in an ion storm had disrupted the transporter circuits, and we were beamed to a parallel universe, transposing with our counterparts in this alternate reality. Another Kirk, McCoy, Scotty, and Uhura were now on our
Enterprise
. And where my mission had been to arrange a mining treaty with the Halkans, I now had to figure out how to save them, while also arranging to get back where we belonged.

We were in for quite an experience. The Chekov in this reality tried to kill me so he could move up in rank. I also discovered that the Captain Kirk on this ship had a “kept woman.” She was a lieutenant, but it was clear that her duties on the ship weren’t just in the service of Starfleet. (Since the woman’s parallel counterpart in our universe is still a member of Starfleet, I have decided not to include her name.) This was a universe of ids, and since I’d previously seen my “id” in the flesh, I knew how to pass as one of them.

The parallel Spock was as clever as our own; he figured out who we were, and eventually helped us to return to our universe. He was also the only person on the ship with an ounce of integrity. I knew that as soon as I left, the Halkans would die. It seemed like such a waste, so I took a shot. I made a plea to Spock to get rid of the “me” in that universe, and save the Halkans, to change his world. As we beamed away, it sounded like he was going to try. I’ve never gone back, and I never want to, but my hope is that he made a difference.

“I want more of these,” Tyree said. He was holding a flintlock rifle. He was enraged, frightening. “Many more!”

I hadn’t seen Tyree in thirteen years, and two days before, when I came back to his world on a routine survey, he had seemed the peaceful, friendly man who’d taken such good care of me when we were both much younger. But the Villagers, who’d lived in peace with the Hill People, now had weapons far too advanced for the technology of this world. I had discovered that the Klingons were providing these flintlock rifles to the Villagers in exchange for their obedience and access to the riches of the planet. They wanted to make it part of their empire, and the way they seduced the Villagers into being their slaves was by giving them their own slaves, in this case the Hill People.

Now, standing in a clearing, I was with Tyree as he saw his wife brutally attacked and killed in front of us by a group of Villagers. It changed him.

“I will kill them,” he said to me, regarding the men who’d done it.

I couldn’t let Tyree’s people become slaves, so I’d decided to give them flintlocks as well with the idea that as the Klingons gave the Villagers improved weapons, the Federation would do the same for the Hill People, creating a balance of power. I went back to the ship, and contacted Admiral Nogura at Starfleet Headquarters. He didn’t like my plan.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Nogura said. “For it to work, we’d have to know exactly what improvements the Klingons are giving the Villagers, and exactly when they were giving them.” I suggested a Starfleet adviser be permanently posted on the planet to relay that information, to which Nogura laughed. That would be a flagrant violation of the Prime Directive.

“Admiral, if we don’t do something, the Hill People will become subservient to the Villagers. And once the Hill People become conquered, there will be one government that will happily join the Klingon Empire. This will follow the letter of the Organian Peace Treaty, and the Klingons will have a planet well inside our borders.” I could see this worried Nogura.

“You say you have the proof that the Klingons were providing the weapons? We will present it to the Klingons,” Nogura said. “Under the terms of the treaty, they will have no choice but to withdraw.” That had been my thinking when I acquired the proof, but now it wasn’t what I wanted.

“But sir,” I said, “the damage has been done. The Villagers will still have flintlocks.”

“The damage was not done by
us
,” Nogura said. “In fact, you may have violated the Prime Directive by getting us into this situation.”

“The Klingons had already interfered,” I said.

“They can’t break the Prime Directive because they don’t have one,” he said, mockingly. “We do, so no matter what they’ve done, it’s no excuse.” Nogura felt with the evidence I’d gathered, the Klingons would no longer be providing upgrades and new materials. The cost to the planet would be temporary, and it would eventually find its own path again.

“The only victims will be the Hill People,” I said.

Nogura wasn’t interested in continuing the conversation, and signed off. Tyree would be on his own; the Villagers would continue to kill his people and take their land. It wouldn’t go on forever, but I doubted my friend would survive it. At that moment, the door buzzed. Scotty entered, holding a flintlock rifle. I had forgotten that I’d already asked him to make some for the Hill People. He was very proud of his handiwork. I then had a thought.

“Scotty, did you log that you made them?”

“No sir. I was waiting for you to tell me what they were for.”

“Well, it turns out you
didn’t
make them,” I said, and Scotty smiled.

They wouldn’t solve the problem that had been created down there, but I wouldn’t be completely abandoning my friend either. The Admiralty was wrong, we can’t be absolutists where the Prime Directive is concerned and stand by while the Klingons destroy something beautiful. Given what was to come, it would be ironic that the admiral I had this argument with was Nogura.