Star Trek: Generation Gap

Preface

One man fallen, the other severely battered.  This was how it ended.  With Sauran destroyed along with his trilithium solar probe, the people of the Veridian system were saved.  Now, here on the cliff-face was left only a man, and a makeshift grave.  As the man stood over the grave, sweat beaded on his forehead, his breathing steady, only a look of confusion on his face.  Why him?  Why had he been spared?  This man he barely knew, gave his life to save his.  He didn't deserve to be alive.  He didn't deserve to be here now.  As he thought this he fell to his knees, and slowly raised his head to the sky above and cried out “Why him!?  Why not me?!”

As his head dropped into his hands, a gust of hot air blew through his hair and startled him.  James T. Kirk looked up at the shuttlecraft, a foreign shape and technology to him, but with the familiar Starfleet markings that had been with him through most of his adult life.  He fell back, and sat on the ground frantically waving his arms to get their attention, before his vision finally blurred and he passed out. 
         

Chapter 1

On the surface of Veridian IV, all was now quiet.  The last of the crash survivors had been transported to the rescue ships, and were either in orbit getting medical attention, or on their way for some medically prescribed shore leave.  The only sound to break the silence was the naturally warm winds of the planet, racing over the rocky hills and cliffs.  One cliff in particular though, seemed most quiet of all.  Not even the racing winds could break the silence where a single pile of rocks fashioned into a makeshift tomb lay undisturbed.  So still was the hilltop, that the sound of the transporter beam echoed out into the caverns, as a lone man beamed to the surface. 

Upon materializing, this man, with his good natured features, fatherly beard, and imposing size, now seemed to slump and drag his feet as he walked to the grave site.  Commander William Riker stood staring at the pile of carefully placed rocks, that covered his former commanding officer's lifeless body, as a single tear made it's way down his cheek, and fell on the Starfleet emblem on his chest.  As he stood there he thought about how he hadn't even spoken up in protest when the Captain offered himself to Lursa and Beetor in exchange for Geordi's life.  For the most part, he blamed himself for Picard's death.  There was, however, one person he blamed more.  One person, who in Riker's opinion should have been the one to die.  If he accomplished nothing else, he would make sure that man understood what was given in exchange for his life, and how much he was resented for it.

After a few minutes, Riker stepped toward the rock pile, and tapped his comm badge. 

“Farragat, Riker here.  Two to beam directly to sick bay.” 

With those words spoken he dematerialized as the pile of rocks fell in on itself, causing a small rumbling landslide down the face of the cliff.  The last casualty of this tragedy was finally taken home to the stars where he belonged.

. . .

Kirk lay in his temporarily assigned quarters on the U.S.S. Farragut, following a very extensive medical evaluation.  The only major diagnosis they made was that he was exhausted.  And why shouldn't he be?  He had saved the day for the fiftieth?  No, sixtieth time?  Oh what did it matter, he was tired of saving the world.  Tired of always being the one best hope for the Galaxy.  No more.  He longed to be back in the Nexus, Antonia by his side riding into the sunset.  It wasn't real, he reminded himself.  A fabrication.. a lie.  He listened to the low hum that was the very pulse of the ship – it on the other hand, was very real.  Those serving aboard Starfleet vessels these days never heard it, but this was Kirk's first time aboard a vessel of this kind.  This was actually his first time aboard any vessel in nearly 80 years – or at least that's how long he was told he spent within the energy ribbon.  If it weren't for his current surroundings, and his seeing first hand the technology in even the room he was in, he would have escorted “them” to McCoy in sick bay for a full mental evaluation.  That thought was both amusing, and painful to him.  He thought of his friends, and how they must have mourned his “death”.  Then, he was struck with a twang of full blown grief as he realised that most, if not all, of those friends would be over a hundred years old.. or dead.  He pushed the thought from his mind, and focused on trying to relax.

Breathe in... Exhale.  Breathe in... Exhale.  He was calming down, using a new meditation that Spock had taught him not long before the events of the last few days.  He thought about it, and convinced himself that he had done the right thing.  What was it he had said to the Captain?  “Your place is on the bridge of your ship.”  He was right, but... what if?  No, he pushed that thought away too – he couldn't possibly be thinking what he was thinking.  He did the right thing, and had gone down to deflector control himself.  There was no way anyone could know that the Energy Ribbon would strike in that exact place.  Or could they?  He could remember his resentment at having to be present on the Enterprise B's maiden voyage.  How he felt they were rubbing it in his face.  No, it started way before then, when they first told him that he would no longer command a vessel.  They tried to break it to him easy, but Jim Kirk wasn't going down without a fight.  Too old.  The words burned his ears when he heard them, and he was forced to swallow his response like so much bile, burning in the pit of his stomach.  Old?  No.  Seasoned maybe, he thought.  It didn't matter what they said to him to try to comfort him.  Even at his own retirement party, he sat solemnly staring at the list of highly decorated speakers praising him, and his gallant crew's adventures.  Then, the biggest insult of all – the send off of the Enterprise B.  Yes, they were showing him what he could never again have.  That meant, that he had done the right thing in going down to deflector control himself – he did know what would happen when the ship started to pull free from the Nexus' grasp... he went there, alone, expecting to die.

The Starfleet ensignia on the breast of his shirt beeped twice, and a voice spoke seemingly from out of no where. 

“Duty Officer to Captain Kirk.” 

He snapped back to reality, and paused before speaking aloud. 

“Kirk here...” 

No response, until suddenly he heard it again.

“Duty Officer to Captain Kirk, come in please sir.”  Damn, he thought.  What was it that made these things work again? He tried to remember – he had been looking at his new surroundings in the ship's security office, trying to make sense of the computers and sensors.  Again, the voice broke his train of thought. 

“Sir, if you would kindly tap the comm badge to respond.”

The duty officer tried not to sound condescending, but he was a busy man, regardless of the admiration and awe he had first had when the legendary Captain James Tiberius Kirk first set foot on the ship.  Kirk swore under his breath, he felt embarrassed that he hadn't been paying more attention earlier.  He tapped the communicator. 

“Kirk here.” he said as patiently as possible. 

“Good evening, Sir” the duty officer said respectfully.  “A press conference has been scheduled in the 10 Forward lounge for 20:00 hours.  Captain Garrovick requested that I personally see that you are able to find your way.  Shall I fetch you at 19:45?” 

Fetch, the very word made him feel as though this Junior Officer was treating him like a dog, and he'd be damned if he was going to become Star Fleet's prized pet in this century, or any other. 

“No, Duty Officer that will not be necessary.  I'll find my own way.  Kirk out.” 

He tapped the communicator, hoping that it turned it off the same way it turned it on and was satisfied with the beeps it made, and the fact that the Duty Officer made no reply.  There, he thought, that will show them that I still have some fight left in me.  He got up from the bed, smoothed out his new uniform, and walked through the door of his quarters.  There were people bustling about, minds in their work, not even so much as looking at him as they walked passed.  I just hope I haven't spoken too soon, he thought, and took a deep breath.  With that, he chose a direction and walked, head held high with determination and confidence.  He only stopped when he finally came upon a turbo lift.  He walked toward it, and within a second or two the door opened, and closed behind him.  He took a second to breathe, and looked around for the control panel.  Not seeing one, he spoke aloud, albeit unsure.

“10 Forward?”

The turbo lift beeped in acknowledgement, and started on it's way.  He breathed a sigh of relief, and reassured himself that this first success was one of many more to come.  Closing his eyes, he started again on that meditation of Spock's.

Chapter 2

         Kirk walked into 10 Forward, calm, cool and confident.  As he looked around at the many people busying around making preparations for the live broadcast, he couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss was about.  Sure, to these people, he was back from the dead after nearly 80 years, but they never made this much fuss about him while he was alive, and saving the galaxy.  Suddenly, he wanted no part of these festivities.  Looking around to see if anyone had seen him, he spun around on his heel and made his way back to the turbo-lift.  It opened with a sigh, and closed again behind him.  He smiled. 

“Now, where to go.” He mumbled aloud. 

“Please repeat your destination.” said the strangely familiar sounding computer voice. 

“Where would one go to relax, or relieve stress aboard this vessel?”  He asked it.

“There are many forms of relaxation and recreation aboard a Nebula class starship such as the holodeck, which allows one to escape the real world, and indulge in a short, limited fantasy of their choosing." 

"Perfect", he thought.  "Take me there." he ordered. 

The turbo lift whooshed on it's way.