There are always possibilities
In Sulu's absence, Chekov had taken the helm. Kirk reflected, as he lay on his bed in his quarters reading The Mayor of Casterbridge that his former weapons officer, whilst the owner of an exceptionally sharp eye for where to target photon torpedoes, had a much heavier touch with the steering than Excelsior's new Captain, even at low impulse.
Sulu, of course, had been in command of Excelsior for three years now, and had, with his impeccable sense of timing, arrived with minutes to spare to assist in defeating the Khitomer conspirators not one week earlier. Three years, to Kirk, now seemed like a short measure of time, a mere nothing in comparison to the forty that he had spent in service of Starfleet. His thoughts again turned to his impending retirement, now a matter of hours away.
The crew had spent the previous five days on Risa, for some unscheduled, unauthorised shore leave. Kirk considered it to be his gift to the men and women with whom he had served, those companions that he had long considered closer than family. It was also intended as a final act of rebellion against Starfleet, an organisation he now considered to be overwrought by conflicting goals and bureaucracy. He still had not forgiven the senior command for their reluctance to assist him in retrieving Spock from The Genesis Planet.
A low beep informed him that someone wished to enter.
'Come in,' Kirk said.
Spock entered, ducking beneath the doorway before settling into a standing position. He had a paper file in his right hand, which he placed on Kirk's desk.
'Logs for the week, Captain. For your signature,' Spock said.
'Paper, Spock?' Kirk asked.
'Yes, paper. The Federation wishes to restrict full reporting of the conspiracy for a period of two weeks, until they are satisfied that there is no risk to the fragility of the peace,' he replied.
Kirk stood, dropping his book on his bed with the intention of returning to it later.
'Who's on the bridge?' Kirk asked.
'Mr. Scott currently has the conn,' Spock replied flatly.
Kirk smiled. Scotty had spent his time on Risa drinking Aldeberan whisky and joking about overestimating the repair schedule to Uhura and anyone else who would listen. When Kirk had last encountered him this morning, the Scottish engineer's complexion had a more pallid hue than usual.
'Well, that should be nice and easy for him,' Kirk said.
'Indeed,' Spock replied.
'You know, Spock, I was just thinking of you.'
'You were?'
Kirk paused. He turned to look out of his window. He could tell from the configuration of the stars that they were approaching the Sol system. He again turned to face his old friend.
'I was just thinking that we have not sat down and had a drink together for a while,' Kirk said.
He walked over, opening his wardrobe to retrieve a bottle of Romulan Ale and two glasses before placing them on his desk, awaiting the inevitable correction from his first officer.
'Nine days ago. We hosted a dinner party for the Klingon peace delegation. I presume that does not count?' Spock asked.
Kirk pulled a spare chair from the corner of his quarters and turned around the other at his desk so that the two empty chairs faced each other. He disliked their harsh, steel structure which, whilst in keeping with the aesthetic of his new ship, provided precious little comfort to the back of a sixty year old man with a history of physical combat.
'I meant just the two of us. Come, sit down,' Kirk said.
Kirk sat. Spock remained standing.
'As you know, I do not appreciate the deleterious effects of alcohol,' Spock said.
'Yes, yes, but you do sometimes drink, Spock. So, come, share a drink with me,' Kirk replied, beckoning his first officer over.
Spock sat opposite Kirk as he poured sufficient blue liquid to fill two glasses.
'Cheers,' Kirk said, raising his glass.
Spock arched his eyebrow, then lifted the glass to his lips, sipping the ale without comment.
'So, what brought you here in person? Is the ship about to explode? Has Scotty left the warp core to overheat in a drunken stupor?' Kirk asked, risking a smile.
Spock leaned forward slightly, an almost imperceptible movement to anyone but those that had known him for many years. Kirk had learned from experience that it usually preceded his friend imparting confidential or personal information.
'I have come here to be decommissioned,' Spock said.
Kirk laughed on hearing that, pausing only when he noted that Spock's expression remained impassive.
'Decommissioned? Spock, you've served with me for thirty years, we're all being decommissioned!' Kirk said, opening his hands in exasperation at his friend's puzzling behaviour.
'Nonetheless, regulations state that a commanding officer must submit a full performance evaluation and discharge of his first officer before formal notice of decommission is issued at Spacedock,' Spock quoted from memory.
Kirk placed his hands back on his knees. He looked up again at his friend, whose expression remained stern.
'Fine,' Kirk said.
Spock sat back, scrutinising Kirk quietly. He tapped the computer console into life on his desk, it took him a moment to find the correct subroutine and he cursed inwardly that he had allowed himself to relax too fully over the preceding days.
'Computer, begin programme Beta Spock Four, formal evaluation and honourable discharge of Captain Spock, first officer USS Enterprise NCC-1701A. Commanding Officer Captain James T. Kirk speaking,' Kirk said.
'Affirmative, commence recording when ready,' the soothing tones of the computer replied.
'Thank you. Well, I have served with Captain Spock for twenty eight years now…' Kirk began.
'Twenty eight years, one month and three days,' Spock interjected.
'Twenty eight years, one month and three days. Thank you, Mr. Spock. And, in that time, I have come to admire and respect his courage, his sense of loyalty and… I can't do this,' Kirk concluded.
He tapped an instruction into the computer to stop the recording.
'Why can you not do it?' Spock asked.
'Why? He asks why? Why do you think, Spock? There are not enough adjectives in the English language. I mean, you're the only person who I've ever met who will eventually have died twice!' Kirk said, taking a large draught of Romulan Ale to alleviate his increasing sense of anxiety.
'Am I to take it that you do not wish to proceed?' Spock asked.
'No, I'll do it. Just, not while you're here. If you want an honest opinion in the meantime, ask Bones,' Kirk said.
'Doctor McCoy would doubtless eviscerate me with one of his Georgian witticisms,' Spock observed.
Kirk laughed at that. He noticed that a half smile had even appeared on Spock's face at his reaction.
'Only because Bones believes he'll enjoy retirement even less than I will,' Kirk concluded.
'The doctor has always had a contradictory nature. I believe that he will pretend otherwise,' Spock said.
There was a moment of silence between them as they sipped at their drinks. Kirk was momentarily distracted by picturing Bones, ten years hence, sitting on the porch of a house in rural California. He was brought out of his reverie by Spock standing up, having finished his drink.
'I should return to the bridge. Our welcoming party is at 1800 tomorrow and there are preparations to be made,' Spock said.
'I would expect nothing less, Mr. Spock,' Kirk replied.
'Is there anything else, Captain?' Spock asked as he stepped over towards the door.
Kirk stood to face his friend.
'No, that'll be all for now,' Kirk said.
Spock turned towards the door. The sensors detected his presence and the door opened. He stepped forward.
'Spock,' Kirk said.
'Yes, Jim?' Spock replied, pausing on the threshold of Kirk's quarters.
'Thank you,' Kirk said.
The Vulcan nodded slightly and walked through the door. It closed silently behind him.
Kirk smiled at nothing in particular, and then returned to his bed and his book.