Some of the doors at the offices of Starfleet Command Headquarters in San Francisco still had the old-fashioned, handled, swinging doors, not the more common automatically parting types usually seen just about everywhere else. There was tradition in a swinging door; it had character. It could be opened quietly and gently, and it could be slammed shut when one wished to make a dramatic statement. Dr. Leonard McCoy, former chief medical officer aboard the USS Enterprise, had entered Admiral Komack's office quietly… and after a few minutes, he fought the temptation to slam the door as he exited, but being a polite southern gentleman from Atlanta, he did not.

McCoy was not in a particularly great mood at this very moment.

The beautiful late afternoon view across the Golden Gate from the nearby window seemed at odds with how he felt. Despite his mood he appreciated both the view and the setting. There was a certain regality about Starfleet HQ; almost like a poor man's Mt. Olympus, he mused to himself. It was a shame to be leaving it, but his mind was made up. And reminders about duty and responsibility only made him want to hasten his departure shuttle back to Atlanta even more so. No more gallivanting around the cosmos for this old country doctor. Thanks, but no thanks. Five years in deep space treating everything from phaser wounds and space sickness to planetary plagues had been taxing. And yes, rewarding. But McCoy decided he had rewards enough right here on Earth…

He was in the main lobby area near the boarding station for the intra-atmospheric air trams and orbital shuttles (no more damned transporters for this old country doctor). McCoy was looking to find an tram headed anywhere near Atlanta, Georgia when he glanced up for a moment; a last look around. The mix of aliens in the place was a nice reminder of the rich diversity of the United Federation of Planets. Such a metropolitan-no, a truly cosmopolitan atmosphere. There were Rigellians, a stiff-lipped Vulcan or two (not Spock; he'd gone back to Vulcan… some rubbish about taking the 'Kah-lineer discipline' or some such nonsense). Even the random, blue-skinned, antennaed Andorian. There were a few creatures in breathing apparatuses as well; a reminder that Earth's native oxygen/nitrogen air wasn't every sentient species' cup of tea. Remarkable, McCoy mused. This wasn't the rural plains of Georgia where he hailed from, that's for sure...

For an instant he wondered where Jim Kirk was. He half-expected to bump into him amid all the captains and commanders walking by. And as his mother used to warn him when he was a boy, be careful what you wish for. Glancing across the main lobby and air shuttle boarding/arrival area was none other than his former commanding officer of the last five years, Captain James T. Kirk; wearing a crisp, new-style gray starfleet uniform. "Well, I'll be damned," muttered McCoy through an involuntarily smile, "Over here, Jim!"

The captain, who seemed lost in thought, quickly looked up at the sound of his first name and his eyes met those of the man and friend he always called 'Bones.' He smiled and walked over.

"Bones! What are you doing here?"

"Well, you caught me on a hell of a day. I was just up in Admiral Komack's office…"

"Oh no", Kirk said in light jest, "What have you done now?"

McCoy smiled briefly, "Well," he began, "I quit, Jim."

Kirk looked visibly surprised, but not overly so, "Well Bones. I'm sorry to hear that, of course."

Then came the captain's predictable pitch, as McCoy expected, "But you know you don't have to do this, Bones. There are ground assignments you could take. You could continue your biomedical research right here on Earth. You don't have to set foot on another starship again…."

McCoy grinned; Jim sounded like he was giving one of his motivational speeches he used to give to get the crew energized.

"Yeah," McCoy joked, "until they order me to serve on one, that is."

"Now Bones. That's not fair. After the success of the 5 year mission and all your medical commendations, you could have your pick of any assignment you want."

"Jim," McCoy smiled, but was insistent, "It's OK. I just want to remain home for a while. This sailor's in port for good. Maybe I'll see my daughter Joanna. I haven't seen her in person for years; it's been rough on her since the divorce. She's probably still with that no-good boyfriend of hers too, I'll bet. Oh well. And as for something to do during my early retirement, I was thinking about going into animal medicine, back in Atlanta."

Kirk chuckled, "You? A veterinarian?"

"Hell yes, Jim. Why not? My experiences with all those alien life forms? It'd be a cinch. I once patched up a creature made of living stone for god's sake. Who knows? I might actually enjoy my retirement…"

Kirk frowned, "Retirement", the word reverberated through Kirk's body, "I mean, at your age? You're only-"

"Ah-ah! Enough about my age, Captain", grinned McCoy, waving a cautionary finger. "And just where the hell are you off to? I'll bet they're giving you another ship, aren't they? I knew five years of command in deep space just wasn't enough for you, was it?"

"Actually," Kirk began, feeling a bit on the spot, "I shouldn't say anything but I'm here to see Admiral Komack myself…"

"Aw hell. I knew it! You're here to try to talk him out of accepting my resignation!" McCoy ribbed him, as only a best friend could, "Oh, you sneaky bastard. The answer's still no, Jim."

"Oh well, it was worth a try, Bones."

The two men laughed; feeling good in each other's company. But the laughter subsided.

McCoy started, "Ok, my bruised ego and hurt feelings aside, what's going on here, Jim?"

"Don't tell a soul…"

"Aw Jim. I'm a natural-born hermit, you know that… who the hell would I tell, anyway?"

"You're the first to know about this; I'm being kicked upstairs."

"I figured as much. What is it now, should I call you 'fleet captain Kirk' ? Or do you prefer commodore?"

"Neither. Try admiral."

"Admiral? At your age?! My god Jim, you're not even forty yet!"

"Now now, Bones. I didn't kid you about your age", said Kirk through a smirk, "I seems like only yesterday I was being teased in this very building for being the youngest captain, and now… you're looking at the youngest Chief of Starfleet Operations. Effective almost immediately. I start tomorrow, in fact…"

McCoy was genuinely surprised. His blue eyes were as wide as saucers, "You're really serious, aren't you? I mean, for a moment I thought you might be pulling my leg…"

"Not this time, Bones", Kirk nodded, "and I'm sure there are a lot of older brass who're going to be a bit upset about this, but the decision was made a few days ago; it's done. I'm meeting with Komack to discuss a few quick things before I settle into my new office. The official announcement is going to be tomorrow noon, local time."

"Well, be sure to tell him you want a cute little female yeoman to make you coffee every morning. That's important. Rank hath its privileges, remember that."

Kirk smiled, "I'll see what I can do. Maybe call in a favor or two…"

"Of course," muttered McCoy, looking down at his new gray uniform, "in these ugly new things they've concocted, who would even notice an attractive yeoman anyway, right? These look like pajamas, don't they?"

"I'll admit, I wasn't overly fond of the new design. But every few years, Starfleet likes to try something new. If nothing else, it's an attempt to accommodate all of the other UFP member tastes in clothing. Getting consensus of opinion among hundreds of aliens is not easy... "

"Well", said McCoy, "I'm not the fashion police, but these are mighty ugly, Jim." McCoy said with a bit of a grimace, "It'll be a relief to get back into some civilian clothes again. And after five years of eating reconstituted proteins from the ship's resequencers, I'm pretty sure my old clothes will be a bit looser on me."

"No doubt. You're not called 'Bones' for nothing, right?"

McCoy nodded, "First thing I want is a full breakfast tomorrow morning. Lots of nice, nasty, unhealthy stuff, too."

Kirk changed topics, "Have you heard about the Enterprise?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow, "Is this classified info, Jim? As a retiring officer, do I even have clearance to hear this?"

"How about good old fashioned doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Works for me. What about the Enterprise, Jim?"

"Well, it's still on the drawing boards, but Scotty and core engineer Commander Jeffries are working on a proposal to Fleet Command to upgrade all of the constitution class ships in the fleet with newer technology. New warp cores, everything. Beginning with Enterprise. They're making their official proposals next week."

"Are you sitting in on that one, Jim?"

"I haven't even sat in my new office yet, Bones. But yes, I'm sure I'll have lots of input. After all, I am chief of Fleet ops."

McCoy shook his head, "I dunno. I just hope they don't make her as ugly and colorless as these uniforms…"

Kirk shook his head, "With Scotty on the team? Not a chance. He'll make Enterprise the pride of the fleet…"

"Oh,no doubt. No doubt. Well Jim, even though I'm officially retiring, I can still be your personal physician, you know. Just say the word…"

"Bones? The word is given. I'd be lost without you around, you know that."

"And we'll both be on Earth now too, so I expect regular invites. You still got that nice little apartment overlooking the bay?"

"Sure do."

"Jim... um. Are you sure about this promotion? I mean, you could still get another ship. Command fit you like a glove; you're a born leader. I just can't imagine you being happy in an admiral's desk... especially at your age. You've always been a field guy; leading landing parties and all that..."

Kirk smiled wistfully, "I had my shot, Bones. But I appreciate the kind words."

"Well, then expect semi-regular visits from me and a few unscheduled Finagle's Folleys, too. My best and strongest prescription, as well you know. And don't give me any lip when I schedule your physicals, either."

"Sure, Bones. Whatever you say."

"Doctor's orders, now. Y'hear?"

"Alright, alright. I got to go. Komack's waiting…"

"Ah, well; I sure as hell wouldn't want you to keep that that stuffed shirt Komack waiting. Now get the hell outta here, Jim. I'll see you later. Call me, OK? Let me know how it goes."

"Will do. Sure you won't change your mind about retirement?"

"Jim", McCoy began with a degree of his usual melodrama, "I swear to you… I will never return to Starfleet. Really, Jim. Don't waste your breath. I will have to be dragged kicking and screaming into a transporter beam to ever set foot on a starship again…"

"Alright alright. I get it. So long …"

The two old friends quickly hugged, then parted.

Kirk had a last glance at his at McCoy as he walked toward the air tram boarding zone; he'd found his tram for Georgia. Kirk quickly remembered the waiting admiral and made a sprint for the escalator…

PART TWO

Admiral Kirk had been at the job for over a year now and it was a bit of a bureaucratic nightmare. He'd unintentionally lost touch with Bones. No doubt he was enjoying his comfortable retirement in Atlanta, tending to sick cats and tribbles. There were a few communiqués between them, but not much more. The job kept Kirk busy, and much of what he did was top secret and couldn't be discussed with most Starfleet personnel, let alone civilians.

He'd been reading reports on his office computer when he decided he needed a break. As he stepped out of his office, he had to give a few 'as you weres' to young officers who tended to get intimidated and freeze in his presence. After a few minutes and a quick turbolift ride, Kirk was outside the building and in the open air; he decided to take a quick walk around the complex. It was night over the old city. Kirk always preferred the night skies of earth, even with the local light pollution of San Francisco. With just a bit of imagination and memory, he could imagine the sky turning deep black, like the starry vistas of deep space. Though he never admitted it to anyone, he really missed deep space exploration. He never felt so at home as he had in the center seat on the bridge of that starship, looking into the starfield on the main viewscreen, his senior officers comfortably surrounding him.

He looked up at the night sky outside the office complex and saw a small, brightly lit moving object he knew to be the spacedock frame where the USS Enterprise was berthed to begin her much discussed (and debated) refit. She was soon to be remade in the latest technological splendor of this new age. Of course, he could fly up and see her anytime he wished, but it would send all of the engineers and dry dock workers into a near-panic; getting an unannounced visit from the top brass without so much as a week's warning to plan a reception or some such thing. Life as an admiral was a bit more complicated than Kirk had anticipated. The frozen, terrified glances from nervous young officers. The unexpected snaps to attention. The once brash young captain was now the feared admiral; like it or not, Kirk had a new aura about him and it wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. The nervous reactions from junior officers were a part of the job, Kirk realized.

When he was in command of the Enterprise during the five-year mission, Kirk had a very relaxed command style. When he came onto the bridge, the duty officer wasn't expected to give the customary, "Captain on the bridge" salutation as he entered. Kirk insisted on dropping such formalities during his time on the Enterprise. He had an easy rapport with his officers and even many in the non-commissioned crew. He was home. Those five years were some of the best and worst years of his life. But they were also when he felt most alive. More than any other time in his life before or since.

And even though both McCoy and Scotty were relatively close at hand (Scotty was, in fact, hundreds of kilometers above his head at the moment; working on the Enterprise in spacedock), it wasn't the same. He also missed Sulu, Uhura and Chekov. Over the years, they had developed an easiness and shorthand style that put Kirk at ease. All of them were still in acive service. Most would probably serve on the refitted Enterprise in a couple of years or so. They were such a damn fine crew. He missed them all.

And of course, somewhere out there was Spock.

They'd been like brothers for much of those five years in space. They'd shared both adventures and tragedies together; intense experiences that he couldn't imagine experiencing with anyone else. Kirk wasn't sure if it was Spock's seeming lack of emotion, or that he was merely suppressing emotion (Kirk knew the latter to be true), but Spock usually made a perfect sounding board for Kirk's own emotions… and decisions. Both a model first officer and science officer. Rarely in the fleet did any one officer hold both titles, but Spock was no average officer. The half-Vulcan, half-human commander has immense capabilities in both capacities. Kirk wondered how Spock was faring back on Vulcan; the planet he fled in his youth to join Starfleet (against his father's wishes, as Spock's own mother had once revealed to him). Kirk would catch himself staring off in the direction of the star 40 Eridiani, which the planet Vulcan orbited, wondering about his friend who was, in many ways, more than a brother to him.

He'd thought of taking a warp shuttle to Vulcan to visit, but taking such a leave would be difficult these days; the Klingons were making noises again. Apparently, they had recently reverted back to their spiny-skulled, ancestral visages (after a century long 'genetic disorder' that they refused to elaborate upon; probably had something to do with spying and infiltration, Kirk assumed). They had raided a couple of outposts along the borderland, but left empty handed (the outpost's improved shields held fast; similar shielding and defensive screens would be used on the Enterprise), so Kirk's duties kept him chained to his office these days. His daily activities of late consisted largely of reading reports on Klingon activities and assigning ships to forestall any new threat. The Klingons were testing defenses, like a shark in the bay taking a random bite out of a passing sailboat. Kirk let a sly grin creep over his face; maybe he needed to take a ship out there himself to give them a bloody nose or two. He'd tangled with the Klingons a few times. He could handle them. In fact, he was still a bit feared by them, from what the fleet captains along the border had reported. But no. More likely he'd stay at HQ and let the active captains handle it. After all, it'd been over 14 months since he felt the once-familiar vibrations of warp speeds on the decks beneath his feet, and a bit of atrophy had began to set in. Command was like a muscle; it had to be flexed regularly or it withered and decayed.

With a bit of melancholy (too soon for midlife crisis; he hoped!) Kirk looked up at the small object in space above him; that shimmering dot seemingly fixed with Earth's orbit (but far too low to be in geosynchronous orbit, of course; she was kept in a powered orbit with gentle assists from maneuvering engines). The refit would take a long time, he knew, but he really yearned to see Enterprise when she was finally completed. The computer simulations and blueprints he'd downloaded were frankly astonishing. Even just glancing at them, they quickened his pulse a bit. Maybe he would oversee the final commissioning ceremony personally? After all, as Bones always teased him, "RHIP: Rank Had Its Privileges."

At any rate, Kirk, as Chief of Fleet ops, recommended (and subsequently assigned) a new captain for his old ship. The first duty of this new captain would be to spend the next two years or so overseeing her long refit, along with his chief engineer Montgomery Scott (not exactly as thrilling as a five year mission into deep space, granted; but a good opportunity for a new captain to really know his ship; and with Scotty's help, he'd be an expert in no time). The man Kirk personally chose for this job was the late Commodore Matt Decker's boy, Willard (or just Will, since Kirk had met him on several occasions before he selected him for the job).

Will was not his father. He was more cerebral and philosophical than instinctive. And despite the fact that Kirk had given Matt Decker a glowing recommendation, he couldn't help to shake the feeling that perhaps Decker was a bit wet behind the ears as well. But since his first duty was to rebuild a starship from the keel up, he was little more than an engineering supervisor than a Federation representative to strange, new worlds. Kirk felt he had the chops, though; or he'd have never hand picked him for the job. Kirk almost wished it were that way when he took command of the Enterprise, but the ship was already long in active service. Decker's ship would be significantly different, and it would be advantageous to have a captain who knew her from the warp core up to the bridge.

And Kirk genuinely admired (or perhaps envied?) the young man; Will Decker was bright, ambitious, handsome. Kirk's old friend Matt would've been very proud indeed. And at 29 years old he now held the new record for youngest officer to make captain (a minor blow to Kirk's ego, but Kirk kept that to himself). Kirk would never consciously bring himself to admit it, but he was more than a bit jealous. He half-joked to Decker that he wished he could take the reigns again. But the Kirk of late was also a realist; he already had his shot at command… now it was time for the new kid to have his. Will Decker would make a fine captain and that was the end of it.

He stopped after a few more paces and turned back to the entrance of the office complex. One more glimpse of the Enterprise... up there, somewhere.

And with a slight heaviness in his heart, he wondered if he would ever set foot aboard the deck of that starship ever again.

He smiled as he then remembered a favorite phrase of Spock's, "There are always … possibilities."

********* THE END *********