James T. Kirk raced down to the deflector dish. The energy ribbon was on its way and he didn't have much time. As he made sure all the crew members had left safely, he realized he was in his element. Heading into danger, trying to save as many people as possible, challenging the notion of impossible – the no-win scenario, as he'd told Saavik all those years ago. This was what he was meant to do, not the ceremonial, useless duties Starfleet had been giving him since his retirement. Saving the galaxy is a job for the young, is it? Kirk thought to himself as he frantically tried to modify the dish. Well, when I get back, I'll have to have a word with the Admiralty about getting back out here somehow. Seeing this barely competent crew only strengthened the desire, although he hoped Captain Harriman would grow into a good leader, worthy of this ship. The Enterprise deserved only the best.
He was so absorbed he barely noticed the explosion. Only when the emergency bulkhead sealed did it hit him that he would not be making it back. He closed his eyes briefly, then ran back to make sure his modifications had worked before his time was up. His time. Kirk hadn't thought it would be like this, not exactly, but strangely, he was calm. It was fitting that he should die saving his ship, his Enterprise. Not his, not anymore, but it was the last thing he could give her. And if his death could save those refugees, this crew, Scotty and Chekov up on the bridge, then it was worth it.
In the final few seconds, Kirk let his thoughts wander. Breathing a sigh of relief – his last act wouldn't be a failure – he looked at the approaching energy ribbon. He didn't want to die, but he was aware that Starfleet had moved past him. There was no place for him anymore, and he preferred to go out fighting, doing something useful, rather than wasting away in a hospital bed. No, he had no regrets.
But there was grief, and sadness, at what he was leaving behind. He thought of young Captain Harriman, who had been so in awe of him, and sincerely wished his successor luck. He thought of Scotty and Chekov, who had come with him on a routine ceremony, and would now be returning with news of Kirk's death. He thought of Sulu, now using what he'd learned on the Enterprise as captain of his own ship, and doing an excellent job, and of Uhura, teaching advanced linguistics at Starfleet Academy. Each name brought a little pain with it; Kirk had been with his crew for almost his entire career.
The pain increased as Kirk's thoughts turned to McCoy. The jovial goodbye they'd had when he'd left – that he'd be throwing Bones the wildest 70th birthday party ever seen – now seemed like nothing in the face of what was happening now, and he would have liked to have said something more. But Bones knew, Kirk had to trust that.
Kirk winced as Spock's face flashed into his memory. Remembering his own grief after the events in the Mutara Nebula, he knew exactly what his death would do to Spock, and more than anything, Kirk wished he could spare his old friend that pain.
The energy ribbon was almost on top of him, and the hull breach expanded. Gasping for breath, Captain James T. Kirk closed his eyes in sudden fear, then let go. Right before he blacked out, he found the part of his mind that housed Spock's constant, small presence. He would not die alone, after all, not really, and hoped that somehow, Spock would know.
Forgive me, t'hy'la.