5:56
An important assassination. That's how Spock had described it to us, Mother. It was so cold, so detached. Hardly befitting the man he attributed it to, the man you taught me so much about when I was a little girl, growing up as an African-American who had never heard the word "segregation."
Today, tactics of life and death and the welfare of an entire planet caught up in the threat of its own destruction overshadow this one man's many accomplishments. But in the years to come, it will not be a near miss with Armageddon that defines this day. It will be the sacrifice of one man, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., that we will remember.
5:57
The bridge seems serene, peaceful for a change. One would never think we'd just come so close to destroying our own future. But it's given me an opportunity to finish this letter. A lot has happened over the last few days, and as the hour approaches, I wanted to record my thoughts on this day, as it happens.
The Enterprise's research mission to 1968 has come to a close. As the communications officer, my role in the mission was nothing out of the ordinary. The captain and Mr. Spock have left the safety of Earth in the hands of Mr. Seven and his alien colleagues. And as we make preparations for the return journey, my thoughts are not on a job well done. On the planet beneath us, somewhere in the town of Memphis, a great man is about to die. He will be gunned down for daring to speak his mind of the injustices of the day that we have long since put behind us.
The turbolift doors open behind me, and though I've heard this sound so often over the years, it seems much more abrupt this time. I'm actually startled by the distraction. But my nerves are already on edge. I've been trying to immerse myself in the daily routine, but when I compare it to the gravity of what is about to unfold, it all seems so mundane, so trivial.
I've considered asking to be relieved of duty. Though it seems odd, a part of me feels as if I'd be letting Dr. King down if he knew what I was considering. I'm sure he would tell me, in that voice that always managed to attract and captivate his audiences, that my position is here, on the bridge. And I would never let him down.
5:58
As I sit above the Earth in the safety of this vessel, I can't help but dwell on the tragedy that is about to unfold. Instinctively, I want to act now, before it's too late. It shouldn't end here, not like this.
While my heart may be demanding action, my mind, regrettably, knows better. Though it would be as simple as an anonymous call to the Memphis police, we've seen firsthand just how delicate the timeline can be. In a sense, I feel as the captain must have felt the day he allowed the love of his life to walk blindly into the path of an oncoming truck, knowing that all of humanity would benefit from his personal loss. And while the death of Dr. King will wound the spirit of a nation, it will never kill his dream.
5:59
We live in a century in which man has outgrown his prejudices, thanks in no small part to men like Dr. King. We see them in our travels of course, but never so clearly as we have over the past few days. On this mission, it's a bit more personal. We're not dealing with Klingons who conquer and subjugate technologically inferior cultures, or Orions enslaving their women, we're watching ourselves, at a time when man was quick to sum up his fellow man based on the color of their skin. And it makes me wonder how humanity survived. You can read about people and their ideas in a history scan, but to truly live it as it unfolds makes it all so much more clear.
6:00
As I've watched the television broadcasts over the last few days, I've gained a new appreciation for what Dr. King stood for. When I was a young girl, you placed a picture of Dr. King above the fireplace. I can remember thinking that he must have been a relative, for the picture was placed among a scattering of family portraits. When I finally asked you who he was, you sat down with me, and told me about his life's work. The bus boycott and the freedom riders. The march on Washington, where he delivered the now famous "I Have A Dream" speech. And the final sad chapter in his life, that day, this day, in Memphis.
But at the time, I was ill impressed. "Why do I have to learn any of this?" I demanded of you. "I go to school with Andorians and Vulcans. There's even a Tellarite."
And I can remember your reply as clearly as if it had just been spoken. "But what about the Romulans? There isn't a single one in your class. And you certainly never see any Klingon children on the playground after school."
"But the Klingons are animals!" I demanded.
"Centuries ago, many people on Earth felt that way about one another. But it was because of Dr. King, and others like him, that we realized that everyone was guided by their fears. Their fear of what was different, what was unexpected. And how times have changed Nyota. Today, we seek out new species, not to wage war on them or to enslave them, but to learn from them. To expand our knowledge of the galaxy, and all the many races that live together. Perhaps one day, you'll even come to see Klingons in a new light."
6:01
As I write this, shots ring out several miles beneath me. I can almost hear them.
6:23
He's gone. Again. The television reporters are in a frenzy, trying to cover every aspect of this man's life, and now his death. There was brief mention of a "nuclear incident" on the broadcast, but the story has already been relegated to the final minutes of the evening news. Tomorrow, it will be all but forgotten.
As I think about this ship and it's crew, I can't help but wonder what Dr. King would think Mother. Humans of all races work together, side by side with extraterrestrials, on a ship of peace and mutual discovery. Perhaps this trek into space is not so much about discovering new life, but about discovering what we have in each other. Mankind has found something in its travels, which would not have been possible were it not for Dr. King and his generation. I'm sure he would be proud.
The dream is alive. 5 1
