The Autobiography of James T. Kirk

The Autobiography of James T. Kirk by David A. Goodman Page A

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engage him in conversation, but he wasn’t interested. To make matters worse, Ben was poisoning my reputation with the rest of the crew. I never got the full story of what he said about me, but it was clear he was making a case among the other officers that the open circuit was my mistake, not his, and that I had conspired to place the blame on him. However, since no one would talk openly to me about it, there was no way for me to air my side of it.
    The next few months were exceedingly lonely and depressing. The officers kept their distance from me; when I went for meals or to the few recreation areas of the ship, I could feel the coolness from the other crewmen. On top of that, Chief Engineer Kaplan wanted to make my life hell; my action had made him look bad to the captain, and though he could do nothing to reprimand me since I’d acted properly, it was also clear he wasn’t going to take me off gamma shift.
    One night, I was sitting alone in one of the rec rooms, a few minutes before my shift, eating dinner. Lieutenant Scott came in. I generally didn’t see much of him; he was an all-work-and-no-play kind of officer, and on his off hours he spent his free time reading technical journals. He got his food from one of the dispensers and came over to me.
    “Mind if I join you, Ensign?” he said.
    “Not at all, sir.” He sat down and immediately started eating. We both ate in silence for a moment, then he spoke.
    “It might interest you to know, I told the chief engineer you might be better off in another department,” he said.
    “Really?” I had no idea what this was about.
    “Feel free to tell me I’m wrong,” he said. “I just don’t know if engineering is your passion.” This came as a shock to me. Scott and I hadn’t spent that much time together; I wondered why he was forming this impression. I assumed it was because he bought into Ben’s version of events and didn’t want me around.
    “I did what I had to do,” I said.
    “What are you talking about?” Scott said.
    “When I put Ben on report,” I said, “I know what the rumors are …”
    “We’re not having the same conversation,” Scott said, and he looked legitimately bewildered.
    “Well, I’ve done my work, I don’t know why you’d want me transferred—”
    “I don’t
want
you transferred, lad. I’m thinking what’s best for you. You do your work, sure,” he said. “But an engineer doesn’t stop there. He’s always fixing, building … you’re on a warp-driven starship, one o’ the best workshops you could ever ask for. And now I hear you’re sittin’ around worrying about what people are saying about you.” I looked at the man in awe.
    “You’re right, sir,” I said.
    “I told you the first day you got here,” he said. “Call me Scotty.”
    It was a little better after that. During my free shifts, I decided to spend time with Scotty, helping him with repairs and upgrades. I learned more about the limits of a warp-driven ship during those months, knowledge that would come in handy in the years to come.
    But the rest of the crew was still pretty unfriendly to me, and as we completed a leg of our run to Starbase 9, I was shaken awake by CPO Tichenor.
    “Sir, Captain needs to see you in his quarters,” Tichenor said.
    I got dressed as quick as I could, and Tichenor led me to Garrovick’s quarters. He was at his desk, writing something on a PADD. He dismissed Tichenor and looked up at me. I was very nervous. Except for a few brief hellos in the corridor, the only time the captain had spoken to me in the last six months was when I came on board, and this was the first time we’d ever been alone.
    “Ensign Kirk,” Garrovick said, “sorry we haven’t had time to get to know each other, but I’m transferring you off the
Republic
.”
    So, even the captain wasn’t immune to the rumor mill.
    “Is there something you want to say, Ensign?” I felt some judgment in the question, but I wasn’t going to let myself

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