2293: Earth orbit

Grace had always known Jim Kirk and I knew each other - he gave me away at both my weddings, after all - and had questioned me about him as a child. I'd told her about our time together at the academy, but left out the other stuff. Grace being Grace, she had searched Starfleet records for links between us as soon as she had the clearance to do so and had discovered something involving the two of us had happened out in space, something classified that had led to her father and I being confined to Earth. She was intensely curious about this, of course, and asked me what we had done. I used the affair being classified to avoid the question and was then able to divert Grace on to the big topic of the day.

"Captain Kirk would never have assassinated the Klingon Chancellor!" protested Grace.

"I agree, sweetie," I said, "but he and Doctor McCoy were found guilty of killing Gorkon and given life sentences to be served in the dilthium mines on the Klingon prison asteroid of Rura Penthe."

We were on spacedock - my first time in space in over two decades - where I was visiting my daughter, who was looking very sharp in her crisp new lieutenant's uniform. Only three years out of the Academy and she had already been promoted to First Officer on the USS Endurance under Captain Sarkesian. I could not have been more proud of her.

"We can't leave them there!" said Grace. Brilliant as she was, she was also headstrong and passionate, qualities I feared would get her into trouble one day.

"We have to," I said. "If the Federation is to mean anything it has to abide by its own rules and laws. Gorkon's ship was apparently fired on by the Enterprise while the Enterprise was escorting it to a peace conference. If we're to salvage anything from this tragedy, then the President and the High Council have to let Klingon justice take its course."

"Klingon justice!" Grace snorted. "There's an oxymoron if ever I heard one."

I turned back to the screen that had just delivered the news to us and watched the images again thoughtfully.

"The destruction of the Klingon moon Praxis spells the slow death of their homeworld," I said. "Either we take this opportunity to establish peace, or we all go down in flames together."

""""""

2293: Oakland

"It was pretty exciting, racing to Khitomer to help out the Enterprise," said Janice, eyes gleaming as she recalled the events of two months ago.

"And we're really glad you did," said Uhura. "If the Excelsior hadn't shown up in time there's a good chance General Chang's bird of prey would have finished us off and we wouldn't have been able to foil the assassination attempt on the President."

"Not everyone on the Excelsior thought Captain Sulu should've disobeyed orders to go to your aid," said Janice. "There's an ensign named Tuvok who questioned the Captain's decision. I'm afraid I really tore a strip off him."

"Tuvok. That's a Vulcan name, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes. He's the first black Vulcan I've ever met. Given the number of planets with monocultures it's nice to be reminded occasionally that Earth isn't the only planet that has racial diversity."

"There really should be more," said Uhura, "but planetary monocultures seem to be the norm out there. Most planets at our stage of development would have started out with similar levels of racial diversity, for the same reasons we did here on Earth. There are only three reasons for them to be monocultures now. One, and most benignly, increased communication and interbreeding eventually evens things out, eliminating those differences; two, disease takes all but the surviving group; or three: genocide."

"Racial genocide," I said, with a shudder. "It's hard to comprehend that level of hatred against a people because of something as trivial as the color of their skin."

"Only because we now regard judging another person on the basis of their skin color as a sign of mental illness," said Uhura, "but we've encountered other societies where those hatreds still fester. You don't need to look any further than Cheron. The dominant species on that planet went extinct in our lifetimes. Lokai and Bele, the last living members of its two races, killed each other not long after we encountered them."

"Makes you wonder how many of the dead civilisations we've found on other worlds destroyed themselves because of such hatreds."

"Yes, yes it does."

"Are you going to miss going out and exploring such cultures?" I asked.

"More than I can say," said Uhura. "We always knew the day would come when we'd all be put out to pasture, but now that it's here I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself. I'm not ready for retirement. Being in space, discovering new worlds, was all I ever wanted to do."

"Not me," said Janice. "After the excitement of Khitomer I feel like I've done my bit. I'm ready to leave space behind and to settle back here on Earth with my wife. Home is the sailor, home from the sea."

"Finally," I said. "I always knew it was something Janice needed to get out her system, but I can't tell you how happy I am she's come home to me at last."

"What will you do now?" asked Uhura.

"I've already been offered a position lecturing at Starfleet communications school," said Janice. "They always want people with starship experience."

"Huh. Maybe I should take up one of those xenolinguistics professorships they're always offering me," said Uhura.

She did not sound convinced. Janice might have got the wanderlust out of her system but Uhura clearly hadn't yet.

"Now that Janice is no longer starship crew we don't need to be based in the Bay Area anymore so that she can be mobilised at a moment's notice," I said, "so we're moving to a small coastal village in Maine we both fell in love with when we vacationed there with the children ten years ago. We'll be delivering our lectures from home and only beaming over to San Francisco a few times a month when they need to see us in person."

"What happens to the apartment?" asked Uhura, looking around her. "Lot of good memories here."

"We're giving it to Grace. Better she has a proper home to come back to than having to stay in those soulless Starfleet quarters whenever she's in town."

We were interrupted by an incoming call. A face appeared on the wall screen. It was our son Grant, calling from college. He looked stricken.

"What is it Grant, what's wrong?"

"You need to turn on your newsfeed, Mom," he said.

"Why? What's happened?"

"It's Captain Kirk, Mom. He's dead."