The Autobiography of James T. Kirk (21 page)

Pike then continued on the tour; Scotty came with us to engineering. While down there, Pike took me over to a small hatch near the rear of the engineering section on the secondary hull. “The sensor pod?” I said. Pike nodded and opened the hatch. Inside was a plastic bubble, clear to space, crowded with various scientific instruments. One of the many scientific missions a ship has is to get radiation readings in abnormal conditions. Ion storms, quasars, etc. This can only be done by direct exposure of the necessary instruments in a plastic pod on the skin of the ship. It was particularly important if the ship was caught inside one of the phenomena; the borders and structures could change rapidly, so the sensor pod was often necessary to navigate out of it.

I climbed up inside the pod. There was only room for one person in the cramped space. But as I looked “up” it was as if I was standing on the outside of the ship; I could stare out at Earth and the various shuttles and ships in orbit. The pods were dangerous. In an ion storm, it picks up a charge of its own very quickly; since it’s connected to the ship, if the charge is big enough, excess current could flow through whatever circuitry it could find, potentially blowing out vital ship’s systems in the middle of an emergency. The captain has to make a determination how long to let that crewman stay in, acquiring as much information as he or she can without threatening the ship; if the crewman delays too long to get out, the captain might have to jettison the pod with the crewman still in it. On the
Hotspur
I had a senior officer stand by at the hatch to jettison, but Pike told me he had the control moved up to his chair on the bridge.

“If someone has to die,” Pike said, “I don’t want anyone else to carry the burden.”

As I stepped out of the pod, I saw that Pike had waved over another officer to introduce to me. I guess he didn’t know we’d already met. It was Ben Finney. I politely cut off Pike’s introduction by extending my hand to Finney.

“Good to see you, Ben,” I said. I wasn’t going to assume bad feeling. To my surprise, Ben smiled and shook my hand, albeit somewhat formally.

“Congratulations, sir,” Ben said. “It’s nice seeing you again.”

We talked briefly about Jamie and then he excused himself to return to his post. It was difficult to tell how he was feeling about me; Ben had acted properly, was even friendly. I hoped this indicated my concern about serving with him was unfounded.

Pike and I continued on, finally ending in Pike’s quarters, which it took me a minute to realize would soon be mine. I’d forgotten how much larger a captain’s quarters were on a
Constitution
-class ship. I had gotten used to my stateroom on the
Hotspur
, which wasn’t much more than a bed and a closet.

Pike and I sat on opposite sides of the desk and went over specific members of the crew. He had recommended Spock for my first officer, but I wasn’t comfortable enough with him to give him that position. I wanted to keep him on as science officer, and asked Pike if Spock would care if someone was brought in over him.

“If he did,” Pike said, “he’d rather die than let you know. He’s all about the work.” We then went through a few more. Pike’s chief engineer was retiring, and I was determined to give Scotty that position. Mark Piper from the
Republic
had replaced Pike’s chief medical officer, Philip Boyce, who died about a year before the end of Pike’s mission. I could see that the loss had affected him. Pike said that the death of Boyce was the first sign that maybe he stayed in space too long. I changed the subject by congratulating Pike on the promotion, but he only laughed, somewhat derisively. I didn’t realize until this moment how political promotions could be in Starfleet.

“Fleet captain is a desk job,” Pike said. “They wanted me out of the way.”

Decker and Pike were contemporaries and had different schools of thought about their roles as starship captains. Decker was more focused on defense and protection, while Pike saw himself as an explorer. Nogura favored Decker, who would now be in field command of all ships in the sector that bordered the Klingons if there was an incursion. Since Decker didn’t like Pike, Pike felt he had played some role in getting the
Enterprise
away from him.

“I probably need a break,” Pike said, although it sounded like a weak rationale. He started talking about the ship and how much it meant to him, but that the mission itself was much more trying than he ever expected. The
Constitution
-class ships were designed to operate without a net; you were really on your own. He’d lost a lot of friends during the ten years he’d been on the
Enterprise
.

“This job will rip the guts out of you,” he said. “You have no choice but to lean on people. This crew will become your friends.”

He took another long pause.

“And then they’ll die.”

We sat in silence for a long moment. I didn’t quite know what to make of this advice. I’d faced the death of crewmen for my whole career, but I felt like answering would only make me appear weak, self-justifying. So I sat in silence until he was ready to move on. He then decided it was time to transfer command, and he ordered the ship’s crew to report to the hangar deck.

A few minutes later, I was part of a ceremony I’d witnessed only once. Pike and I stood at a podium near the bay doors, facing the 400 faces of the crew. Spock stood by, and Pike gave him a nod.

“Attention to orders,” Spock said, shouting. I’d never seen a Vulcan raise his voice; it was unnerving. But I supposed it was necessary serving aboard a starship. I stepped up to the podium, placed the tape of orders in the portable viewer that was set there, and read them.

“To Captain Christopher Pike, commander,
U.S.S. Enterprise
, you are hereby promoted to fleet captain, and requested and required to relinquish command to Captain James T. Kirk as of this date, signed Heihachiro Nogura, admiral, Starfleet Command.” I then turned to Pike. “I relieve you, sir.”

“I stand relieved,” Pike said. We shook hands, and I turned and took in the faces; a familiar few: Scotty, Kelso, Mark Piper from the
Republic
, Uhura. But they were quickly lost in an ocean of strangers. I had never taken over a ship like this before; I had been serving on the
Hotspur
when I was given command, so I had already been working with everyone on that ship, and there had been no need for a ceremony. Now, I could see a lot of the crew members weren’t looking at me; they looked at Pike. It was easy to read affection and admiration in their expressions.

I was envious; it was ridiculous for me to expect anything from these people. It would be the hardest job in my life to win them over, since being a good captain meant doing nothing that was designed to win them over. I had to count on them to do their jobs, and do my best to protect their lives, which, despite what Pike had said, meant I couldn’t let anyone be my friend. Thrust into command of the
Hotspur
, I had felt alone, but not quite as alone as this.

And then I saw an unexpected face in the crowd. Gary Mitchell was in the back; he must have just come aboard, his duffel still over his shoulder. He gave me a conspiratorial grin and nodded. I smiled.

“All standing orders to remain in force until further notice,” I said. “Crew dismissed.” Captain Pike came over one last time and shook my hand.

“Hope to see you again,” he said. “Good luck.”

“To you too,” I said.

I went back to the cabin, which only a little while ago had been Pike’s. Now everything of his was gone; my clothing had arrived and had been magically put away. I decided to start going through the ship’s status reports, which took me late into the evening, and fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke early, dressed, and left my cabin. As I walked along the corridors I received friendly but reserved hellos from the crew I passed. I reached the turbolift and noticed a lieutenant, who was obviously heading toward it, make a last-minute decision to turn in the other direction and take a ladder; whoever he was, he wasn’t comfortable riding with his new captain. I didn’t mind; I think I liked the fact that he was nervous.

I rode the lift alone and stepped out onto the bridge. The viewscreen was off; the night shift was still on duty. To my right, Uhura was at communications.

“Nice to see you again, Ensign,” I said. “Have the department heads report to me on the bridge as soon as they come on duty.”

“Yes sir,” she said. “Oh, and congratulations.” I smiled as I headed to the command chair, where Spock sat in command. He worked the night shift, Pike had told me, by his own request, as well as his day shift as science officer.

“You’re relieved, Mr. Spock.”

“You are 15 minutes and 44.3 seconds early for your shift, Captain,” he said, as he got out of the chair.

“Captain’s prerogative,” I said. I sat down in the chair. It was a lot more comfortable than the one on the
Hotspur
. I took in the bridge, simultaneously busy and quiet. My nervousness was fading. I was now eager to get under way. I was lost in my reverie and didn’t notice a zealous ensign in his twenties approach my chair. I was a little startled when he was suddenly standing beside it.

“Ensign Morgan Bateson reporting for duty,” he said. I nodded. I had no idea who this kid was and what he was waiting for.

“Very well, Ensign,” I said, “assume your post.”

He looked at me, confused.

“Um, Captain Pike liked to have me on the bridge,” he said. “If you prefer me to wait somewhere else …” I had no idea what he was talking about, and I guess he could tell from my expression.

“Sir,” he said, in a low voice, “I’m your yeoman.” I felt like an idiot, and somehow had forgotten that captains had yeomen; there wasn’t room for that kind of luxury aboard the
Hotspur
. He must have been the one who magically put away all my clothes. I asked him for the morning status reports and a cup of coffee. He seemed pleased to be given something to do, and was off.

A few moments later, as I drank my coffee and scanned the reports, the day shift came onto the bridge. I caught the glances of a few officers who were somewhat worried that I made it there ahead of them. Lieutenant Lloyd Alden relieved Uhura at communications; Gary took over the helm position and was joined by Kelso at navigation. After a few minutes, the department heads had gathered behind me.

Dr. Piper, chief medical officer, and Hikaru Sulu, the head of astrosciences, whom I had not met yet, stood with Scotty, who leaned forward as I joined them.

“Just want to thank you, sir,” Scotty said. He’d gotten his official promotion to chief engineer. “I won’t let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t,” I said. I then turned to the others and we had an impromptu conference. They all reported the status of their departments, and that they were ready for departure. I ordered communications to get clearance from the dockmaster for departure, and had Kelso plot a course for our patrol sector. Once we had clearance, I stepped back to my chair.

“Mr. Mitchell,” I said, “take us out.”

“Aye, sir.” Gary keyed the console, and I watched the viewscreen as Earth quickly fell away.

As I think back on that moment, Pike’s last advice would prove to be correct: everybody on that bridge would change or die. And I’d have the guts ripped out of me, a lot sooner than I could’ve imagined.

“We’re leaving the Galaxy, Mr. Mitchell. Ahead warp factor one,” I said.

The
Enterprise
sat motionless, less than five light-minutes from the Galaxy’s “edge.” On my order, Gary keyed the controls, and I heard the now familiar rumble of the ship’s engines. I’d been in the command chair of the
Enterprise
for almost two years and had done nothing of note. I had underestimated the
Enterprise’s
need for a refit, and rather than risk the crew in an unreliable vessel, we spent most of our time waiting at Starbase 11 for the parts to arrive. Unfortunately, the wrong nacelle domes were delivered, and parts for the new internal communications system were somehow left off the manifest, so we would have to go back at some point. I then had a shakedown cruise that lasted another month. We finally began our patrol of the Earth colonies and starbases in the sector, over a year after we left Earth.

Despite the delays, my plan to refit the
Enterprise
seemed to have the desired effect; there wasn’t a peep out of the Klingons, and in fact they’d agreed to negotiation regarding the disputed area between their territory and the Federation. Everything was peaceful enough that Starfleet gave us a mission of pure research, and all the scientists on board were as excited as I was. A true history-making venture; even if we discovered nothing, that too would be memorable. But that had changed just a few moments before.

We’d found an old-style ship recorder from the
S.S. Valiant
, a 200-year-old ship that had somehow also reached this far. The burnt-out tapes indicated the ship had encountered a “magnetic space storm”
*
that had thrown them out of the Galaxy, and in returning they’d encountered some unknown force that had caused the captain to order the destruction of his own ship.