Shall We Sit
James T. Kirk was a man who loved his job; it suited him. As Mitchell was apt to joke, "He seems to wear it like a suit of armour." As Kirk stood looking out of the observation window, seeing the stars drift past, for once he truly did wish that his captaincy was some form of armour, and that he could hold at bay the pain he was feeling over the death of his crew member. If only Gary could see him now.
He had only been in command of the 'Enterprise' for five months when the orders came to take up the duty of patrolling the Neutral Zone. There had been growing signs of trouble with the Klingons, and it was hoped by Starfleet Command that an extra show of strength on their part might be enough to avert the problem before it really began.
For over three weeks they had moved around the edges of the Zone, travelling a course that cut across the path of the 'Yorktown', the other starship that was patrolling with them. The attack, when it came, was sudden, but Kirk was prepared for it. His ship was on red alert before the Klingon vessel had time to fire its first shot.
Information started to flood in from all stations and the timely arrival of the 'Yorktown' had saved the 'Enterprise' from any serious damage#. But when the fighting was over and the Klingons had fled from the field of battle, the real cost of the encounter was brought to the young captain's attention: fifteen wounded and one dead.
Even now, as Kirk stood in front of the observation deck's windows, he could still feel the wrench of pain that had bitten deep into his gut when the report had come in. He was not such a stranger to death that the thought of it shook him, but Lieutenant Jackson was the first man to die under his command. James T. Kirk turned away from what seemed to him to be the accusing glow of the stars, for he knew that Jackson's death would not be the last.
Sighing, he walked over to a chair and slumped himself down. He had begun to write the final letter home to Lieutenant Jackson's wife and, while looking through the man's file, he had come across a picture of his smiling five-year- old daughter, which had driven Kirk to seek the solitude and comfort of the observation deck.
Kirk had hardly known Lieutenant Peter Jackson. He had worked in engineering, and Scotty had always spoken well of him. Kirk also knew that he had been with Starfleet for over twelve years and with the 'Enterprise' for three. Like Kirk, being assigned to the 'Enterprise' had been a big step in romotion for the ginger-haired lieutenant, but unlike Kirk he had left a wife and child to take up his position. Again the pang of guilt assailed the young captain, and he wished that he had the power to prevent married men and women joining ships that would take them away from their loved ones for so many years... or, as this case, forever.
Kirk sighed and again knew that being a captain was a very heavy burden to carry. He had been a first officer long enough to see the strain that the role placed upon the man who sat in the most lonely position on board any ship, but he had always been sure that he would be able to cope with the demands placed upon him, and in most cases he could. He had been trained for this role, and the responsibilities were not new to him... just the pain of losing a crew member; the knowledge that he had done his best to protect his crew and yet still one had died.
Slowly Kirk began to realise that this kind of thinking would not get him anywhere. He was in command, and he was going to lose people, so he had to learn to face it now or get out of the kitchen before it got really hot and he lost someone he really cared for, a friend. It was a sobering thought, losing a friend. No matter how hard he tried, he could not wrap everyone he cared about in cotton wool.
Kirk leant back and closed his eyes. What really bothered him was the fact that he was unable to stop death from touching his beloved ship. He was hailed as the youngest captain in Starfleet, and he had held the position on other smaller ships, but he now realised that they had been a safe testing ground because he had never lost a crew member on one of those.
"Captain?" Kirk's eyes flew open and he started up, coming face to face with Mr Spock, the 'Enterprise's' first officer. "I'm sorry, sir, I did not mean to startle you," the Vulcan finished.
"Er..." Kirk began, unsure of the man who stood before him. "Can I help you, Mr Spock?" he finally asked.
"I was just wondering if you were all right, sir?" the Vulcan asked, eyes still watching his commander.
Kirk could feel the other man's eyes boring into the top of his now-bent head, and silently he cursed himself for not being able to meet his first officer's gaze. For over five months now he had been trying to break down the Vulcan's impenetrable shield, to find some glimmer of his human half hidden behind the mask of Vulcan, but with little or no success. Gary had even started taking bets on the matter, and Kirk had only smiled at his friend's helpful hints upon the subject. Now here was Mr Spock... was he finally showing some emotion in the guise of concern? Kirk suddenly realised that he had not answered the Vulcan's question and that the man was still waiting patiently for a reply.
"I feel fine, Mr Spock." Then he smiled and went on, "Everything's fine."
The first officer nodded, then placing his hands behind his back, he went on as if coming to a decision, "I could not help noticing your distress over the death of Lieutenant Jackson."
Kirk's eyes snapped up and he said harshly, "I feel the loss of any member of my crew, Mr Spock."
Spock glanced down and nodded slowly. "As do I, sir."
Kirk's face softened and he reached out, asking, "Forgive me, Mr Spock, I didn't mean to be so defensive."
"It is not easy to lose a friend, sir."
A shock ran through Kirk. He had not even thought of Spock as having any friends aboard the ship, but now that he did think about it, he could remember seeing Lieutenant Jackson and Spock deep in discussion or an occasional chess game in one of the recreational areas.
"I'm sorry, Mr Spock, I didn't realise that Lieutenant Jackson was your friend."
This comment drew a raised eyebrow from his first officer.
Kirk rushed on, realising how silly the last statement must have sounded. "I was just writing the letter home to Mrs Jackson, and..." He paused. "And I felt I needed some..." He came to a halt, unsure of what he had been about to say.
"I, too, must send my condolences to Mrs Jackson."
Again Kirk felt as if a wall was being built between his first officer and himself, but this time it was him who was putting up the bricks.
"The captaincy is a very heavy and lonely burden to carry." Spock was stating a fact; both knew it and accepted it for what it was.
"Is that why you have never wished for a captaincy of your own, Mr Spock?" Kirk enquired, knowing full well that this man had only to hint for one and he would be given it.
"I have no wish for command." Spock turned to glance out of the window. "My scientific studies occupy me fully, and I have little time for anything else."
"Except for the few chess games you had with Lieutenant Jackson. I'm sorry I've deprived you of your opponent." Even Kirk was surprised by the bitterness that swelled up in his voice.
Spock swung round to give his captain a hard look. "Peter Jackson was a fine officer, and he knew all the risks involved." It was said as a statement of fact, and yet it seemed so strange to hear it coming from his usually cold Vulcan first officer.
"Shall I put that in the letter to Mrs Jackson, Mr Spock? Is that what I'll tell her when I explain that her husband is dead and her daughter is fatherless?" They were desperate questions from a man who hated to lose anyone to the dark secrets of death, and suddenly Kirk loathed himself for asking them. He did not want to show any weakness before this man, this half-Vulcan, who seemed so totally inhuman that it was as if he truly denied his human half.
"It will not be an easy letter to write, sir. I do not envy you your position, but you could state that he was well-liked and will be missed by the other members of the crew." It was quietly spoken, and Kirk realised that Jackson would be missed, and by none more so than the silent, private man who was standing before him.
"Spock," he asked quietly, moving to stand beside his first officer. "Will you tell me about Peter Jackson? What he was like, his hobbies, his hopes, his dreams?" Gary would have thought him mad to ask such a question from the man who stood beside him, and earlier on in the evening he would have been in agreement, but now... now it seemed... just... right.
"Captain..." Spock began, "I do not feel that I am the right person to..." He turned back from the window and was caught and held by the other man's eyes as they met his. Suddenly he knew how very important it was for Kirk to know and understand the man who had died for his ship. "Shall we sit?" he began...
THE END
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