The Autobiography of James T. Kirk (42 page)

Sarek maintained his home in the city of ShiKar, whose spires rose out of the surrounding rocks and sands like enchanted crystal. Their house was one level, bright, airy, and modern, filled with sculptures, paintings, and other works of art. Amanda met us at the door.

“Admiral, it is wonderful to see you,” she said. Her warmth was infectious, and stood out to the aloofness of everyone else I’d been in contact with since arriving.

“Please call me Jim,” I said. Sarek led us inside, and we sat down to a meal that, though vegetarian, was more human than Vulcan. It was a lovely supper. I discovered that Sarek had taken on opening diplomatic talks with the Legarans, the lobster-like species I had encountered several years before. I told him of our initial difficulties.

“You were ill-equipped to handle such a delicate first contact,” Sarek said. “Humans lack the patience necessary to construct even a structure for diplomacy with this species.” Amanda gave him an admonishing look, and I took a little umbrage at the insult; I’d made dozens of successful first contacts.

“How much patience would I need?”

“I estimate it will take seventy years before an agreement is reached to begin negotiations.” I looked to see if he was joking, then remembered that Spock was the only Vulcan who did that. I decided then, in this case, he was right, I did not have the patience.

When I got ready to leave for the evening, Amanda took my arm.

“You brought me back my son,” she said. “I know what you lost, and I’m so, so sorry.” In that moment, for the first time, I understood the wisdom of Vulcan society. I remembered David. The feelings of anger, despair, frustration invaded. I had no control of them, and I wished I had the discipline of a philosophy that would allow me not to feel.

Months passed and we worked on the Klingon ship, and I learned that though I had obviously spent a lot of time with Spock, that hadn’t prepared me for life on Vulcan. For starters, there was no small talk. People only spoke for a specific purpose; if they didn’t have one, they didn’t speak. Initially, it was unnerving; it was like a planet of awkward silence. But over time I came to appreciate it. And eventually all the logic began to seep in, and some of my emotions seemed to fall away. I was “going native,” and I think it helped me through a difficult period.

One day, we had a visitor at our camp. An elderly Vulcan woman in a hover chair floated toward me, escorted by several aides. Though she was much older, I recognized her immediately.

“You are not dead,” T’Pau said.

“No ma’am,” I said. I don’t know how she heard that I was on the planet, but when she did, she obviously felt a need come see me. For what purpose, I couldn’t even guess.

“You disrespected our traditions,” T’Pau said.

“I did not mean to,” I said. I suppose I could’ve blamed McCoy for what happened at Spock’s wedding, but that didn’t seem logical. “I apologize if that was the result.”

“It was,” T’Pau said. We stood in silence for a long moment. I knew there was nothing more to say. She then looked at me. “You have increased your weight. It is not healthful.” She then turned and floated away with her entourage.

Did she come all that way to tell me I had gotten fat?

“The Federation Council has finished their deliberations,” Sarek said. It was about three months after we’d arrived, and upon hearing that the council was going to try us in absentia, Sarek had gone to Earth to speak in our defense. He was on the viewscreen of the Klingon bird-of-prey. McCoy and I spoke to him from the bridge, which Scotty and his team were almost finished refitting for human operation.

“You have all been found guilty of nine violations of Starfleet regulations,” Sarek said, “which carry a combined penalty of sixteen years in a penal colony.” I had no idea if our work on the Klingon vessel would gain us any leniency, or if that sentence had already taken that into account.

“In addition,” Sarek went on, “the Klingons have threatened war if you are not executed.”

“Everybody or just me?” I said.

“Just you,” he said.

Even my time among the Vulcans had not tempered my rage against the Klingons. I was hoping to bump into them again. I could have easily killed some more.

Sarek asked what we intended to do. Prison waited for all of us. I suppose we could’ve taken the bird-of-prey and become pirates on the run.

But the truth was we wanted to go home, whatever the consequences. We couldn’t hide on Vulcan forever.

On the day we left, Saavik came to see me. She was staying behind. The rumor was she was pregnant. I wondered whether it was David’s, but it seemed inappropriate to ask.

“Sir, I have not had the opportunity to tell you about your son. David died most bravely. He saved Spock. He saved us all. I thought you should know.” I nodded. I don’t know if it was a comfort. He died a hero, but like many parents, I think I would’ve preferred if he’d been a coward and lived.

After Saavik left, Spock came on board. It was the first time I’d seen him since we’d been back. He had been undergoing a reeducation and seemed a kind of childlike version of himself. But he was just as brilliant and just as loyal. He was coming with us to offer testimony in our defense. We, and the entire population of Earth, were lucky he decided to do that.

“Save yourselves … avoid the planet Earth at all costs.” It was Federation president Hiram Roth, sending a planetary distress call. A mysterious probe had come into Earth orbit and had sent transmissions that were ionizing the atmosphere, blocking out the sun, and had caused all power systems to fail. We were in the bird-of-prey, approaching the Sol System, when we received the message. It was dire; Earth would die.

I had to do something, but it was hard for me to believe that we’d make a difference in our little alien ship, when all of Starfleet had been paralyzed. But we were the only ones who had Spock.

He listened to the probe’s transmissions and determined that they were meant for something that lived underwater. The life-forms were trying to communicate with humpback whales, a species that had long been extinct on Earth.

If we got close to the probe, our power would fail too. So, the only way to talk to the probe was to find some humpback whales.

I told Spock to start computations for time warp. It had been almost 20 years since we’d attempted time travel in a ship. We were in a different kind of vessel, but the theory was the same. We would “slingshot” around Earth’s sun, and it would send us back in time. I was on a mission to save my world.

“Watch where you’re going, you dumbass!”

San Francisco in the 1980s was a lot different than it was in the 2280s: loud, polluted, angry, but also intense, energetic, and more colorful. The person who called me a “dumbass” had almost just run me over with his automobile, yet somehow blamed me for it.

Spock had chosen the era based on accessibility of humpback whales as well as available power; the Klingon ship wasn’t built for time travel, and going back in time had already weakened the reactor. So fixing the ship became part of our mission.

Finding the humpbacks ended up being relatively easy; they were at the Cetacean Institute outside the city. Spock and I went to investigate, while the others dealt with building a whale tank in the bird-of-prey and making sure our engines had the power necessary for the return trip.

Walking the streets of San Francisco with Spock brought back a lot of memories, especially of our trip to 1930. Stuck in the primitive past, we had a mission to save the future. It took me out of the darkness I’d experienced recently, and I had my best friend and companion back at my side.

And, just like in 1930, we met an angel who would help us.

Her name was Gillian Taylor. She was the guardian of the two whales in captivity at the Cetacean Institute. She was a guide and a scientist, young, pretty, and passionate about whales. The whales, named George and Gracie, were male and female, which fit in perfectly with our plan to repopulate them in the future. I assumed they were named for great leaders of the time, but I never found out.
*

Spock and I had a lot more trouble seeming like we belonged in this era than we did in the 1930s. We looked out of place and a little incompetent. This ended up having the unintentional effect of gaining Gillian’s sympathy.

She took me out to dinner for something called a “large mushroom with pepperoni.” I also had a drink, which was remarkably similar to Tellarite beer.

During the meal, she revealed to me that she worried that the whales were going to be released into the ocean and be killed by whalers. I told her I could take the whales somewhere they would never be hunted.

“Where can you take them?” she asked. She was hopeful.

I was hinting around, and finally just came out and told her I was from the future. I somehow didn’t worry that revealing it would change history. Given her reaction, I was right not to be concerned.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me to begin with? Why all the coy disguises?”

I didn’t have to be concerned, because she clearly didn’t believe me. I was frustrated because I needed her help to take the whales, and it initially didn’t look like I was going to get it.

Later that night, I was back aboard the bird-of-prey. Gillian had dropped me off, with the food I’d ordered. It was in a square box and had an intoxicating smell. Spock and I opened it. There was a disc inside made of bread, with pieces of meat and vegetables mixed on top with cheese.

“This is a pizza,” Spock said. I had heard of it. It looked delicious, but given what T’Pau had said to me, I decided to forgo it. Spock couldn’t eat it because it had meat, so Scotty ate most of it.

I didn’t know what we were going to do; without Gillian’s help, I didn’t think we’d find the whales.

The bird-of-prey sat in Golden Gate Park, but the cloaking device was activated, so it was transparent. Gillian was “banging” on the invisible hull the next morning. She must have seen me beam inside the night before, and this led her to begin to consider the possibility that we were telling the truth. She found herself in a quandary: believe someone she thought was crazy, or let her whales be hunted and killed. She decided on the former, and with her help, we rescued George and Gracie, beaming them into our ship to take to the 23rd century.

She didn’t want to stay in her own time. And I didn’t care. This time, I got to take the angel from the past home with me.