Chapter Three

Robert James Kirk, the great-great-great nephew of the infamous James T. Kirk, roamed the promenade of Starbase 112. The largest in-space structure ever built by a species other than the Borg, it had become Starfleet's headquarters, or at least, what was left of Starfleet. The Federation had fallen apart nearly ten years before. And to think, the only living relative of James Kirk wasn't even a captain, but a lieutenant. He spotted a new establishment, a restaurant he had never seen before. At the thought of food Robert's stomach started to growl, he felt like he hadn't eaten for days, even though it had only been about five hours since he last ate. He decided to check the new place out. As he walked in he saw the room was filled with races of all kinds. Klingons, Romulans, Vulcans, Bajorans, and Cardassians were just among the few kinds.

A waitress walked up to him and asked, "Seat for one?"

Robert nodded his head, "Yes, is there any place?"

"Right, this way sir," she said guiding him to a table and handing him a menu. He sat down and examined the menu, great, he thought, not a single dish from Earth. He searched the menu front and back but he could not find the one thing he was looking for, a cheeseburger. Robert didn't know how long it had been since he last had a cheeseburger, being born on Earth and being twenty-two years of age, he knew what they were like. So he settled for the next best thing, there was at least, spaghetti.

***
Thaddeus Debbing walked in to find an empty, but surprisingly well kept, home. Apparently Artem hadn't trashed the place like he was afraid of. Everything seemed to be in place, the pictures of his family were still on the table, the computer was turned off as requested. Everything seemed to be in order, so he continued his examination. After he made sure everything was in place, he decided to get some sleep because he hadn't for at least two days.

***
A Klingon walked up to Robert Kirk, with an evil grin on his face. The Klingon looked to Robert as if he were about thirty to thirty-five years old, maybe about five ten and three-hundred pounds.

"What is that you're eating?" said the Klingon, "The human version of gakh?"

"It's called spaghetti, and no, it was invented long before the first contact between our people," Robert replied.
The Klingon turned to his, or what appeared to be, friends and said something in Klingonese.

But since Robert was fluent in Klingonese, he knew exactly what the Klingon was saying. Robert raised an eyebrow to the Klingon, "Sir, I am not 'a stupid fool like that James Kirk' as you put it. And I just so happen to be the only living relative of James Kirk," he said in a half proud, half insulted way.

The Klingon smiled, "Well, isn't that a big deal, 'I'm the only relative of James Kirk'," said the Klingon in Klingonese, and in a sarcastic way.

"Do not insult my family, sir," said Robert; he was starting to get mad now.

The Klingon leaned so close to Robert's face that Robert could feel the heat and smell the gakh from the Klingon's breath. "I would like to see you do something about it p'takh," spat the Klingon. By thins time every person in the restaurant was staring, and the manager seemed to be calling security.

The Klingon landed a heavy blow on Robert's face, the pain form the punch was immense. But, Robert knew that he needed to keep a straight face, because if the Klingon saw the pain, then Robert would probably not live to see tomorrow.

***

As Thaddeus Debbing walked into his bedroom, he noticed a rustling sound coming from inside. Debbing prepared to see Artem, but as he walked in he was taken totally by surprise, there was a young Romulan woman sleeping on his bed, and she was in a Starfleet uniform.

***

The volleys from the Klingon kept coming, but Robert refused to fight back. He knew that if he did then if he did make it through he would be demoted or something like that. The Klingon seemed to be getting fed up with the fact that Robert was not fighting back, so he went to a last resort, Robert watched as the Klingon pulled out a d'k'tagh dagger from its holder. Robert knew it was time to fight back; luckily he went to the Academy on Baku Prime, so he knew all the spots to hit to knock someone out. And just as he unleashed a wild volley, aimed for one of the places he learned about, he felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked down to see the dagger protruding from his side, with a steady stream of blood to coat it.