STAR TREK: The Original Series - The Last Roundup Read online

  Kirk had gone from startled to angry to amused. “Please, don’t stop now, Julius. Keep telling me how I feel.”

  The youth was too wrapped up in his own emotions to take offense at the gibe. “You’re a legend. And your career speaks for itself. You like to act, to be involved, to do things, just like we like to do things. Just like Alex tells me Dad and Mom liked to. I have to take his word for that; I don’t have any memories of them. I think it’s in our blood, this—this love of doing. And I can’t believe that you’re happy with these so-called responsibilities.

  “Tell us, Uncle Jim. Look us in the eye and tell us that you are happy where you are, teaching eighteen-year-olds ancient history, when you could be part of an experiment working alongside your own blood to bring about things that can change the universe. You tell me this and we’ll go away and not try any more to drag you out of this early grave you’ve dug for yourself. Can you do it, Uncle Jim? Huh? Can you?”

  The amusement had faded and the anger had surged back. Coolly, but with an edge to his voice, Kirk replied, “It’s been good seeing you both. I wish you luck with Sanctuary.”

  [53] For a moment, Julius stared. He seemed more distressed than Alex at Kirk’s blunt refusal.

  It was Alex who finally broke the taut silence. “I told you he wouldn’t come, Juley,” he said heavily. “But you were right about one thing. We had to try.”

  Julius still seemed to be in shock. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “I can’t believe you’d just ... without even ... ah, the hell with it. And the hell with you, Captain.” He slid off the back of the sofa and strode toward the door. It hissed open and he was gone, without a backward glance.

  “I apologize for Julius, Uncle Jim,” Alex said. He was still seated on the couch. “You’ll have to forgive him. We really have been through a lot in getting this colony pulled together, and it would have been the jewel in the crown if you could have been part of it. He was so insistent that we come talk to you in person about it. I think he really thought we’d be able to convince you.”

  “You didn’t seem so sure,” Kirk said softly.

  “No. I figured you were pretty well entrenched in whatever it was you were doing. We’d have to catch you at just the right moment, and that would be hard.” He rose and smiled awkwardly. “Admiral Karen Berg is one of our sponsors. She’ll be able to contact us if ... if you change your mind.”

  “Alex, I’m sorry. I think Julius believes it has to do with you, but it doesn’t. It has everything to do with my responsibilities.”

  “Oh, sure, Uncle Jim. He’ll understand. Well, I better get going if I’m to catch up to Julius.” He smiled sadly, and again reached out to his uncle. But there was a [54] resignation in the hug that had not been there the first time.

  They drew apart and looked into one another’s eyes. “I’m sure Sanctuary will live up to its name with you as the leader, Alex,” Kirk said.

  Alex seemed about to say something, then apparently thought better of it. He smiled, squeezed Kirk’s shoulder one last time, then turned and followed his brother into the night.

  The silence was absolute. Slowly, Kirk picked up the discarded glasses, took them to the sink, washed them, and went to bed.

  It was still dark out when his door chimed. Kirk bolted upright and glanced at the chronometer. Who would possibly be at his door at 5:30 A.M.? Maybe it was Julius and Alex, back to try to convince him again. For some reason, he was pleased at the prospect.

  He fumbled for a robe, hastily sashed it closed, then stumbled into the living room. He glanced up to see who it was and groaned softly. It was not Julius and Alex. It was not anyone he had any desire to see.

  Steeling himself, he opened the door. “Good morning, Skalli.”

  She bounced a little, standing in the doorway with a big grin on her lively face, then scampered inside. She carried a large basket, which she summarily plopped down on the kitchen table.

  “Good morning, Captain Kirk! I brought us breakfast before our hike.”

  Kirk sighed. “Skalli,” he began, “it’s really not appropriate for you to be here at all, especially at this [55] hour of the morning.” Let alone, he thought, glancing down at his black terrycloth robe, when your instructor is wearing just a bathrobe.

  Skalli had turned and followed his gaze. “Oh, you mean because of the possibilities of sexual relations between student and teacher. Don’t worry. You are absolutely not of interest to me sexually.”

  Kirk didn’t believe it, but he felt himself blushing at her frank conversation.

  Skalli’s hand flew to her mouth. “I didn’t mean that to sound the way it did ... oh, dear ... Not that you’re not attractive ... I mean, in your own human way, but to Huanni aesthetics humans aren’t ... there’s not a chance that—”

  Kirk held up a hand, growing slightly desperate to change the subject. “That will do, Cadet. All questions of impropriety aside ... what are you doing here at five-thirty in the morning?”

  She tilted her head in the expression that he had come to recognize as confusion. Her large ears flapped twice, then stood at full attention. “I thought I told you ... I brought breakfast—”

  “Before our hike, I got that. Didn’t you think that perhaps I might have made my own plans about how I wanted to spend my day?”

  “No,” she said. “Do you have other plans?”

  “No, but that’s not the point. Why are you here?”

  “For breakfast and—”

  “I got that part,” Kirk almost bellowed. “But why are we having breakfast and hiking? And you are not permitted to say because it will be healthy.”

  [56] “But, you’re my personal advisor. I thought we should get started immediately. Now that I have you all to myself, I have so many questions!”

  Kirk ran a hand through his hair. “Skalli, that’s during the semester.”

  Her ears sagged slightly and drooped like dying flowers down either side of her head. “You ... you don’t want to see me. Oh. I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”

  He caught her by her long arm as she headed for the door, tears brimming in her enormous eyes. “It’s not that, it’s just ... There are certain protocols and etiquette we have in place that you’ll need to familiarize yourself with. One of them is, cadets don’t interact with faculty members except during the school year. Another is, you schedule your meetings, which usually last about an hour. A third is, you never show up at a faculty member’s home even if you’re not sexually attracted to them.”

  He paused. That somehow hadn’t come out quite right.

  She listened with an earnestness and an intensity that was a bit unnerving. “I understand, Captain,” she said firmly. “I apologize for my breach of protocol.”

  Kirk dropped his hand. “Apology accepted, Cadet.” She still looked so distressed that he softened. “Tell you what. Since you went to all the trouble to make us breakfast, let’s not let it go to waste. Let me get dressed. We’ll eat, talk, then say good-bye, and I’ll see you in September when the semester starts.”

  Her smile lit up her face. “That sounds great, Captain!”

  [57] It was a long breakfast, but it was delicious: blueberry muffins, fresh-squeezed orange juice, fresh fruits that Kirk didn’t recognize but were delectable, and a thermos of a wonderfully aromatic beverage that was a kissing cousin to coffee but even tastier. Skalli talked incessantly, pummeling Kirk with questions, as the sun rose.

  Finally, after every last crumb had been devoured, Skalli sadly slid off the chair and packed up the basket. “Let me apologize again, Captain.”

  “No need, Cadet. Thanks for breakfast. Have a good summer.”

  Her ears drooped. “You too, sir.” The very personification of dejection, she slumped to the door, looked back at him sadly, and was gone.

  The door had scarcely closed behind her when Kirk was at the computer. “Computer, contact and leave a message for Admiral Karen Berg. Please inform her that Jim Kirk needs to contact his
nephews as soon as possible.”

  Shortly after Kirk had showered and shaved, a soft chime from his computer told him that someone was trying to contact him. It was Alex, managing to look both wary and hopeful at the same time.

  “Got your message, Uncle Jim. What’s going on?”

  Kirk smiled. “You and Julius were right. There’s nothing for me here that can’t be resumed later. I’m not ready to make a long-term commitment right now, but ... is the offer still open for me to come for a few months?”

  He heard a faint whoop from somewhere in the room, [58] and Alex’s face split into an enormous grin. “You bet, Uncle Jim! Stay as short or long a time as you want. I’m sure though once you’re there, you’ll never want to leave!”

  Kirk didn’t share Alex’s certainty, but he did know one thing: He was dying a slow death here, teaching classes and putting up with Skalli’s boundless enthusiasm. He needed to be away, out there ... doing something.

  “You’ve got a great list of people, but you could probably stand to use a few old hands. Mind if I bring along some friends?”

  “Absolutely not! Any friend of our Uncle Jim is a friend of Sanctuary,” Alex said. “Who did you have in mind?”

  Chapter Six

  “I’M AFRAID NOT, PAVEL,” said Admiral Gray. “There’s been no change since our last conversation.”

  “I see,” said Commander Pavel Chekov, striving not to let the disappointment show.

  “Captain Sheridan keeps asking about you,” Gray continued, his dark face expressionless. “That first officer position is still open.”

  “Yes, sir. I know, sir.”

  “Pavel, I really suggest you take it. With all the hullabaloo going on with the Klingons, there aren’t going to be many changes in the upper ranks. I don’t think a captaincy is going to come along any time soon, and in the meantime, you’re just sitting at that starbase wasting your time.”

  Part of Chekov thought that Gray was absolutely right. He was going mad here at Starbase 14, twiddling his thumbs. Ostensibly he was there as a “Starfleet presence,” whatever the heck that meant. He was coming to the conclusion that it meant twiddling one’s thumbs.

  [60] But he knew that he was ready for a captaincy. His last job as first officer of the Reliant had been a trying one. He’d distinguished himself very well since, but the thought of going back to the same position when his old helmsbuddy Sulu had been given the Excelsior felt to him like he was giving up. It was just a bad time, that was all. He’d ride it out and surely something would turn up.

  “Please tell Captain Sheridan that I am flattered by his obvious respect,” he told Gray. “But I can’t accept.”

  Gray sighed. A handsome man of African descent, he’d been doing a lot of string-pulling on Chekov’s behalf recently, and Chekov doubted he’d continue to do much more.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, sir,” he said. “But I know I’m on the right path.”

  Gray smiled wryly. “That makes one of us, Pavel. You’re a good man, but you’re like that former captain of yours. Stubborn as they come.”

  “Any comparison to Captain Kirk I will take as a compliment,” Chekov responded, bridling a little on Kirk’s behalf.

  “As well you should,” Gray said, still smiling. “Gray out.”

  Chekov leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, puffed out his cheeks, and exhaled. He laced his fingers at the back of his neck and cradled his head, thinking hard. Was he really on the right path? Or was he on a wild goose chase? Gray might come back with one more offer, but that would certainly be it.

  If only he had some kind of a sign—

  [61] His computer beeped, indicating a message. Chekov tapped it. “Commander Chek—Captain!”

  On the viewscreen was an image of Captain Kirk. “Hello, Pavel,” he said. “How are you doing? I thought you’d have a command of your own by this time.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Chekov answered, grimacing a little. “But, strangely enough, Starfleet doesn’t seem to share our opinion. How is your class going?”

  “Over and done with,” Kirk said, “as is my tenure at the Academy. I’ve got a proposition to make, if you’re in a position to think it over.”

  Chekov felt his mouth curve into a smile. Hell, it stretched into a grin. Anything Jim Kirk was going to get him into was going to be exciting, and he could use some excitement along about now. Sooner or later, there’d be a captaincy for him. In the meantime, he’d listen to what Kirk had to say.

  “I’m all ears,” he said, seeing in his mind’s eye Spock’s reaction to the colorful phrase. Ah, those were the good old days.

  Commander Montgomery Scott was freezing his rear off.

  It had been decades since he’d been home to bonnie Scotland, and while for the first few weeks it had been a true delight, he was forced to admit that he’d forgotten just how cold, wet and, if one were to be honest, miserable the place could get.

  Now, mind, that wasn’t when one was sitting back in a cozy pub with the fire burning, sipping on a dram of [62] the finest alcoholic beverage in the galaxy (Romulan ale, bah!), playing a round of darts. Or on a summer’s day, strolling happily through Edinburgh. Or dancing at a ceili with the fair-skinned, rosy-cheeked lasses ... ah, now that was Scotland at her sweetest.

  But fishing in the high country ... now that was a wee bit different.

  Even in summer, storms would arise and the temperature would plummet. As now. Scott’s little boat, Highland Lassie, rocked furiously. Scott looked at the gray, choppy water, the gray, cloudy sky, the gray, frigid rain that was suddenly starting to pepper him with cold wet droplets. He had worn rain gear, of course—one never ventured outside for any length of time without wellies and macs—but the thermos of hot spiked coffee he brought for just such occasions wasn’t going to get him through this one. Grumbling and muttering to himself, he tapped the controls and took Highland Lassie back to the rocky shoreline. The rain and wind picked up and he barely managed to get his little boat safely ashore and secured. Cursing roundly, Scott stumbled up the rickety steps that led from the shoreline to his cottage. He’d thought it quaint and charming that sunny day he’d decided he had to have it; now nearly every day he cursed its antiquated “quaintness.” What he wouldn’t give for an upscale apartment in Edinburgh right now. ...

  He stumbled inside, his gray hair plastered to his skull, and began shedding clothes as he made his way to the bathroom. A hot shower steamed up the bathroom and revived him, and by the time he had wrapped [63] himself in an old, beloved robe and started water boiling for a pot of tea he was feeling almost human again.

  The rain pounded on the roof and lashed at the windows. He gazed at it for a moment, sluicing down in gray sheets, and then gave it a rude gesture.

  He turned back to check on the kettle. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a green light flashing. It was the computer alerting him that he had received a message. He hit the controls and finished toweling his hair dry as the Starfleet insignia filled the screen.

  Then a familiar visage took its place. “Captain Kirk!” Scott cried delightedly, even though it was a recorded message and Kirk couldn’t hear him.

  “Hello, Scotty.” Aye, but it had been a long time since Scott had heard that particular affectionate nickname. “I hope you’re out on that boat you bought, landing one that’s this big.” He spread his arms wide, and Scott chuckled. “I don’t know how well retirement is treating you, but if you’re anything like me, you’re bored silly.”

  Scott sighed, shaking his head ruefully. “Too true, lad,” he said.

  “I’ve got a proposition for you. My nephews Alexander and Julius are getting ready to depart for a planet they call Sanctuary, to found a new colony.”

  “A game for the young,” Scotty said, still speaking aloud as if he were addressing Kirk. “I’ve no time nor back strength for diggin’ in the dirt.”

  “It’s going to be a site where cutting-edge technology
is going to be developed,” Kirk said, as if anticipating Scott’s response. “I’ve sent you a list of names of those who have already committed. Its mission is [64] completely one of peace—we’ll have no weapons being developed here of any sort.” Scott punched a button and a list of names began scrolling across the screen to the left of Kirk’s image. His eyes widened.

  Kirk leaned forward. “Think of it, Scotty. All this new technology, and you’ll get to be an intrinsic part of its development. You’ll have a chance to work with some of the most famous people in the galaxy, not just the Federation. And they’ll have the chance to work with you.” He smiled. “We have to resign ourselves to being living legends, my friend. Let me know if you’re interested. Kirk out.”

  The list continued to scroll across the screen even though the image of Kirk had gone. Scott couldn’t believe it. His heart began to quicken at the thought of getting his hands on this stuff. ...

  But what about Highland Lassie? Bonnie Scotland, home of his birth?

  He looked out the window again, at the storm that continued to rage.

  “Hell with the boat,” Scott said.

  They met for a pre-departure dinner at a banquet hall in one of San Francisco’s finest hotels, a scant three weeks later. Kirk had barely had enough time to get his affairs in order, and was mildly amused at how easy it had been to talk Scotty and Chekov into coming. They must be itching for action, just as he was.

  The banquet hall was lavishly decorated and the drinks flowed freely. Some of the faces were familiar, and it was obvious that he was recognized. When eye [65] contact was made, Kirk smiled pleasantly. Many of the future colonists introduced themselves. They seemed all of a type to Kirk, regardless of gender or species: young, eager, bright-eyed and oh so very sincere.

  It was a petty thought, but he figured that a few weeks on an alien world they’d have to build from scratch would take some of the shine off them.