Stardate 2233.04: Aboard the USS Kelvin

The mission was neutral: transportation and peaceful negotiations through federation listed space. The ship, although armed, was not equipped for battle. The captain, although qualified, was not prepared for the possibility of death. So, when an anomaly appeared on the indistinguishable black horizon, the impossibly, became the reality.

STARFLEET COMM OFFICER: USS Kelvin, go for Starfleet base.
KELVIN COMM OFFICER: Starfleet base. We sent you a transmission. Did you receive?
STARFLEET COMM OFFICER: Kelvin, have you double-checked those readings?
KELVIN COMM OFFICER: Our gravitational sensors are going crazy here, you should see this. It looks like a lightning storm.
STARFLEET COMM OFFICER: What you sent us doesn't seem possible.
KELVIN COMM OFFICER: Yes, ma'am. I understand. That's why we sent it.

The ominous nebula, that would forever be appraised by its likeness to a Terran lightning storm, loomed over the bridge of the USS Kelvin. "Captain," an officer in a yellow command-and-flight shirt called. "There is a ship approaching."

"Who is it, Lieutenant?" Captain Robau demanded, his temper tense from the growing uncertainty within his usually direct instincts.

"Unknown, Captain. I've never seen a ship with these readings."

"Stay alert, but don't raise the shields," he commanded, and then to another, "Hail them. We cannot afford any complications with 600 civilians on board this ship."

"Yes, Captain."

The tense quiet froze time like nothing on earth ever could. It was a moment most would never have to endure, the feeling of a Captain. If someone was to ask Robau about what it felt like to captain a starship, he would have no answer, because his definition was founded in moments like this one. Moments where the dark of space seemed to dim the very light that had once lit the night sky of a child who dreamed of adventure. It was as if the ship's artificial gravity rested the entirety of its mass on his very shoulders, while the crew waited to hail a possible hostile.

"There is no response, Captain."

"Captain, they are jamming our signals."

"Shields up, Red a—"

"They've locked weapons on us!"

"Red alert," repeated first officer George Kirk. "Torpedoes locked on 320 degrees, mark 2."

"Arm weapons! Evasive pattern delta five," Robau shouted, the tone of his voice chosen for him by the situation at hand.

"Incoming frags," Commander Kirk reported just before they hit.

The impact shook the Kelvin, casting officers from chairs and throwing those unfortunate enough to have been standing across rooms and into walls. Sparks shot out from damaged electricals, burning those closest to the fount, as the lights flicked and dimmed from the stress. When the ship rebalanced and the light returned, not all officers were able to get back up.

"Fire all phasers!" Robau cried. "Damage report."

"Warp drive's been knocked out. I've never seen anything like it, Captain," the comms from Engineering responded. "Weapons are offline. Main power is 38%."

"All power to forward shields."

Another round of hits and the walls of the lower levels were giving, sucking those in range out into the abyss.

"Are our shields even up?" an officer yelled in frustration.

"They're at eleven percent and dropping," Kirk shouted back. "Ten percent . . . sir, it's nine and we're dropping . . ."

"Hello," the sickeningly calm voice interrupted the chaos as a hailing video appeared on screen. A Romulan male its owner. "My commander requests the presence of your captain, in order to negotiate a cease fire. You will come aboard our ship via shuttlecraft. Your refusal would be unwise."

And as it came, it left, but it left behind the same respite from the destruction as it had brought. One more hit and the ship and its crew would be lost.

"Ready the shuttles for evacuation," Captain Robau called to his crew before turning to his first officer. "Walk with me."

As the pair traveled down the corridor, the captain continued, "If I don't report in fifteen minutes, evacuate the crew."

"Sir, we could still—"

"No," Robau interrupted. "There is no help for us out here. Use auto-pilot, and get off this ship."

"Aye, Captain."

Robau looked him in the eye, confident that they would be the last pair of human eyes he would ever see. "You're the Captain now, Mister Kirk."

He was right.

The captain's heart rate increased from the moment he beamed off the Kelvin, the crew was monitoring it from the bridge. They watched with a knowing fear as they waited for the flatline. They knew instantly when he was gone, observing a small moment of silence between the survivors, although it was left uncertain if the reasons behind that silence were religious, therapeutic, respectful, or the cause of pure shock coursing through their veins.

"Sir, they're locked onto our signal," the helm officer broke in. "They're launching again!"

"Bravo-six maneuver fire full," Commander, now Captain, Kirk recited from training.

A full volley of weapons rendered the evasive attempts useless.

"I'm initiating General Order Thirteen. We're evacuating."

"Yes, sir!"

Kirk reached over to the internal comms. "All decks, this is the Captain speaking: Evacuate the ship immediately. Get down to the shuttlecrafts. Repeat evacuate immediately."

The crew ran out, leaving Captain George Kirk in command of an empty bridge.

"George?" a familiar voice rang through the comm systems.

"You're okay, thank God," he let out a sigh of relief as he heard his wife. She had not been one of the many that had perished already that night. "I have Medical Shuttle Thirty-seven standing by. Get to it now. Can you do that?"

She confirmed.

"Everything's going to be okay. Do exactly as I say. Shuttle Thirty-seven."

"George, it's coming. Our baby, it's coming now."

Now? It was nearly two months early.

"I'm on my way." Even in all this desolation, a small feeling of elation broke through as he thought of his child. This would be there second, little Sammy would finally get to be the older brother George knew he was born to be. Sam was already helping prepare; he always had to say good morning or good night with his small hands desperately feeling for kicks. His family.

Reaching up to start the auto-pilot, he was already mentally in that pod. He could already feel the pain in his hand, just as bad as it was last time. He could already imagen finally seeing their baby for the first time.

And the it all fell apart.

"Auto-pilot function has been destroyed. Manual operation only."

The impossible, became the reality. He would never see any of the dreams Wionna and he had laid for their lives together. He would never see Sammy again. His wife would deliver their child alone in a shuttle pod.

"Captain to Shuttle Thirty-Seven: Is my wife onboard?"

"Yes sir, she is," the pilot said.

"I need you to go now. Do you hear me?" It was an honest question, at that moment, George did not want to hear the words coming out of his mouth so much, he was unsure if they got through.

"We're waiting on you, sir."

"No," his voice broke, "take off now. Leave immediately."

When no response came he repeated himself stronger. "Take off, that's an order."

This was what he wanted, Kirk convinced himself. This was the only way. His wife, his baby, they must live. It didn't matter what happened to him, his family would survive.

"Yes, sir." The affirmative came reluctantly, but it came. That was enough.

It wasn't until a new voice returned that his resolve did waver a bit.

"George, the shuttle's leaving. Where are you?"

"Sweetheart, listen to me. I'm not going to be there."

"No," her voice demanded and it almost made him smile. She was a fighter, his fighter. Wionna Kirk could be his biggest adversary, but she was also his biggest advocate. He loved her, so much. This was going to break his very soul to tell her this, to leave her, but it was the only way.

"This is the only way you'll survive."

"Please, don't stay on the ship. You have to be here."

"The shuttles will never make it if I don't fight them off." It wasn't a lie, not entirely. He would have taken his chances if the auto-pilot would have worked. But now, it was the only thing he could tell himself that would keep him on that ship. It was a purpose. Not one of those pods would fall to enemy fire while he was there to defend them. He would protect his family and everyone else's.

"George, I can't do this without you."

"Yes, you can. You're the strongest woman I've ever met. You can do this, Sweetheart," Kirk comforted but was unsure if she heard him, she was screaming in what seemed like the loudest yet. Could this be the one?

It was silent over the comms for a few seconds and George almost began to worry. Then the soft cry of a baby.

"What is it?" he laughed through the tears, both joy and misery mixed into one.

"It's a girl," Wionna's tired but awe-filled voice once again reached him.

"A girl!" George closed his eyes and imagined the scene he was only listening to. His beautiful wife, exhausted but so full of new love, as she softly held a pink bundle to her chest. He was there, in his mind, he could see them. He was wrapped behind Wionna, her leaning into his chest, needing the support.

"Tell, tell me about her," he begged.

"She's beautiful."

He could see her, a soft blonde fuzz covering the top of her head. He reached around Wionna to gently cup the unprotected head of his beautiful baby girl. George softly kissed her closed eyes.

"George, you should be here."

I am, his heart whispered. I am.

He wondered what color her eyes would be when they opened, what shape her small nose was. He felt her grip around his pinky, the only finger her tiny, little hands could fit around.

"Impact Alert," the computer announced, jarring him back to reality.

"What should name her?" he needed a name, the name of his tiny little angel. She'll raise some hell when she gets older, just like her momma, but she'll find that one man that she decided to settle her grace on, and he'll know. That man will know the kind of angel George's baby was.

"I didn't think she was going to be a girl, I was going to suggest Tiberius."

The Romulan ship is getting closer, or he was. The captain's heart was beating out of his chest as fear threatened to take over. He forced a laugh.

"Tiberius? Are you kidding? That's the worst. No, we'll name her after your father. Jamie. Jamie Kirk."

"Jamie. Yeah, I like that. Jamie Teyler."

The ship was close. It was right there.

Wionna, Sammy, Jamie. His family. His life. They would live, they would continue, it was going to be okay, he told himself. It was going to be okay.

"Sweetheart, can you hear me?" he was desperate, he needed her voice. He didn't know how to get his hands to stop shaking.

"I can hear you."

It was right there. The ship was so big. It was so close.

Almost deliriously, he managed to say his last words, "I love you so much. I love you . . .