"You're really going through with it, sir?"

Admiral James T. Kirk turned away from his office window and its sweeping view of the San Francisco Bay; above the choppy, leaden water, dark clouds sailed swiftly in an ever-changing panorama.

Kirk released a silent sigh and faced his questioner. Beneath his trimmed golden brown beard, Lieutenant Commander Kevin Riley still had enough of an Irish baby-face to give the appearance of a man much younger than the thirty-odd years Kirk knew him to be. People often underestimated Riley because of it. But when Kirk looked at his aide, he could see the hard-won maturity etched around his blue eyes and the corners of his mouth.

Over the past year and a half, Riley, likewise, had come to know Kirk. Maybe not as well as Leonard McCoy or Mr. Spock had... but well enough. They'd watched each other change as they worked together at Starfleet Headquarters. For Riley, the changes had meant real growth, a burgeoning strength of character, but for Kirk... the adjustments had not nearly been so positive.

"You don't think I should do it?" Kirk asked his aide. Not that another opinion would make a difference at this point -- he had made his decision, and nothing could shake him. But over the past several months, he had come to value Riley's input; a friendship and trust had developed between the two.

"Now, that's a true Irish answer, Admiral," the younger man said with a slight smile. "A question for a question. I know you, sir. Once your mind is made up..."

Kirk shook his head, wanting Riley to believe he wasn't shrugging him off. "I respect your opinion, Kevin. You should know that by now."

Riley glanced shyly away as if embarrassed by Kirk's high regard, and the unexpected use of his first name.

"Tell me," Kirk insisted quietly. "You don't think I should do this? When you, more than anyone at Starfleet, knows what's happening to me here? You've watched this job, this 'exciting opportunity' they promised me dwindle into nothing but a bureaucrat's dream. You've seen the work -- the paperwork -- pile up and up until we've both been buried under it. You, even more than my wife--" He paused abruptly, his voice catching on the last word.

It had been two months since his one-year marriage contract had expired. Two months since Admiral Lori Ciana had stoutly refused to renew that contract. Two months since she had moved out of his home, his life, his bed.

Kirk swallowed, gritted his teeth, then nodded at his own error. " -- that is, my ex-wife... even more than Lori, you've watched what they've done to me. It's been more than six months since I've been out of this office. Six months since I've done something, anything, even remotely worthwhile. And a year since... I've been in space...."

He paused, that phrase almost whispered, and left it hanging there between them. He smiled at Riley conspiratorially. "Do you remember, Kevin? What it was like? Six months... on the Enterprise?" He couldn't help himself. His voice dropped into an almost reverential hush when he mouthed her name.

"I remember," Riley murmured.

Kirk turned back toward the view of the windswept sky. "In a year we might've discovered two new class-M planets, mapped a couple of solar systems, contacted two or three alien races. Spock would've found time to translate four new languages, improve five computer programs, write two new ones, and author half a dozen scientific papers. And Bones... Bones would've discovered a handful of vaccines, isolated a bunch of unknown organisms... and found a dozen new ways to get under Spock's skin." He was smiling now, in spite of his melancholy, until he turned back and caught sight of his aide's pitying expression.

Damn, Jim thought disgustedly, as Kevin lowered his eyes to spare him. I must sound like the ancient mariner! But the only albatross around my neck is this job. "Don't you miss it at all, Kevin? Don't you miss working in space?"

"I don't know, sir," Riley admitted honestly. "For a long time I thought I'd never go back. But lately... maybe because I've been working with you... I find myself wondering... Are you sure it's really space you miss so much, Admiral, or is it the responsibility? All those people under your command, a million decisions to make a day -- you thrived on that, sir. It was the responsibility I couldn't handle for a long time. But now... I think maybe... yes. I guess I do miss it. The responsibility of working in space."

Kirk pointed a finger at him as if his aide had just pinpointed the problem. "And that's where we're going, Riley. Into space. You and I. We've done our bit for God and country. We've written enough reports and refitted enough ships to satisfy anyone." He'd even had to oversee the refitting of the Enterprise. He'd done it, too, knowing all the while he was refitting her for another captain -- Will Decker. "We deserve a better assignment. And today, I'm going to tell Admiral Nogura just that. Let the chips go ahead and fall."

Jim could see both admiration and fear warring in Riley's eyes. A confrontation with the old man, the most powerful figure in Starfleet, was quite the calculated risk. Kirk could very well have to live with whatever ultimatum he delivered. But did that matter any longer? I've lost Lori. I've lost the Enterprise. Lost Bones, Spock, and the only work I ever cared about. What else have I got to lose?

Just Starfleet. He remembered the day, almost two years before, when he'd been on leave at his mother Winona's home in Iowa, and Nogura had come, determined to talk him into the admiralty. Jim had been just as determined not to give up the Enterprise.

"Make your pitch," he'd told the old man. "I'll go ahead and refuse the promotion... and if you want to, you can drum me out of the Fleet. But I won't be kicked upstairs."

And Nogura, his tone as smooth and brittle as glass, had said quietly, "God knows, I don't want you to resign if I can help it. But I can't stop you from leaving the Fleet."

It might very well come to that; having to resign, to walk away from his years in Starfleet, to become... what? A commercial pilot hauling cargo and passengers? Captain of a crew of thirty on the border patrol?

No matter; he could not envision what his future might be without Starfleet. But he had seen what it was in the Fleet, without a ship, without the exhilaration of being in space -- and that future he could live with no longer.

Perhaps he could not reclaim the Enterprise -- but at the very least, he would force Nogura to make good his promise that Kirk would be a diplomatic troubleshooter, not a deskbound bureaucrat...

Or he would resign.

Copyright © 1990 by Paramount Pictures