Captain Kirk, full of remorse, sat on the edge of his bed in his cabin. He held his head with his hands and didn't move. All he wanted was to collect his thoughts.

His personal yeoman Janice Rand pressed his door buzzer and after getting his customary response to come in, entered Kirk's quarters. Kirk really loved her, but of course could not let her know it. He felt he had to maintain a certain emotional detachment. Now she had felt it necessary to enter his cabin. Kirk heard her steps but didn't look up. Janice began to speak softly.

— Please don't worry, Captain. — She began.

— How, how can I stop worrying? It was my fault, and I can't change what happened. How can I look into Spock's eyes, into Scotty's? I nearly destroyed the ship. I am not worthy to be called "captain". — Kirk sighed.

The yeoman decided to try again.

— If you aren't worthy, I don't know who is, sir. You did everything you could, but Klingons are unpredictable and extremely brutal and treacherous. Even the best captains would make errors in this situation.

Kirk interrupted her:

— Some other captains might, Yeoman, but not me! I should have seen what was coming! And what about Anthony? The good guy was killed… by me!

— James, it was not you. It was the shaking of the ship brought on by the Klingons' attack. — Janice put all her kindness in her soft voice. However, Kirk was inflexible.

— But I am responsible for my crew! I couldn't avoid the catastrophe, it's my fault.

Yeoman Janice Rand decided to stop this grumbling.

— All right, Captain, let's face the facts.

— OK, — agreed Kirk.

— Starfleet could appoint anybody in your responsible position. Could they appoint Spock?

— Yes, they could do it.

Janice breathed, and then said final words:

- But they have appointed you! It means you're worthy to be the captain, and you are a better captain than Spock could be! So, if there was an error, it was unavoidable. The best Starfleet captains make them, why beat yourself up about it?

— Thanks, Janice, — said Kirk. He felt like the rock has fallen from his shoulders. But Janice hadn't finished.

— Have you forgotten about today's showing?

— What showing? —The Enterprise captain asked, a bit surprised.

—The Klingons will return. Do you want to kill them with kindness with our phasers?

The face of Captain James Kirk brightened and he smiled.

The same time, but 271 years ago…

Maxwell Smart sat on the chair near the window and looked pensively at the road. His thoughts were about the mission they had recently accomplished. But status of this mission had really changed to "failed" two hours ago, and his thoughts were just about it.

His wife Ninety-Nine looked into the room and observed him sitting there, his face filled with disappointment and shame about the failure of their mission. She decided that it was not the time to be in the kitchen. She closed the door to the kitchen as she entered the living room, putting her hand on her husband's shoulder. Max flinched from this touch. Ninety-Nine leaned to him and started to comfort:

— Calm down, Max. I'm still with you, and I still believe in you!

Max took her hand away.

— I feel blue. I really failed that mission!

— Did you? — Ninety-Nine said softly.

— If it wasn't for me, Agent 56 would be alive and healthy. His death is on my conscience!

Max' wife frowned when recalled the death of agent 56, but she quickly cooled down.

— Don't think about it, Max. The mission is accomplished, and it's all right. Agent 56 died while carrying out his duty. It's the death every secret agent wants, don't they?

Max knocked on the windowsill.

— You know how many missions I have failed? I don't think any secret agent wishes to die, especially not in the gruesome way he did. I should be dismissed!

Ninety-Nine smiled:

— And how many missions have you accomplished?

Max started to count them on his fingers. It really was a great number. No, it was the biggest number in the world and he was never very good at arithmetic. His wife embraced him.

— Forget about it, my beloved secret agent 86. Would you like some freshly-baked cookies? They are made with strawberries, your favourite ones.

And Max face, like Kirk's 271 years after, brightened, and he smiled. In very different situations people are still so similar. Aren't they?