                         Historian Note:
  
     The events depicted here occur just over five years 
following the events of 'The Undiscovered Country'.  

-----------------------------------------------------------------

                         Author's Note:    

     There have been many theories postulated as to the final 
fate of James Kirk.  I am one of many who believe that he, unlike 
some of the other characters, does not live to see the events of 
'Next Generation.'  I do believe that he goes out in a blaze of
glory, though.

     This story is pure speculation, but I have attempted to 
place the events depicted here into the established Trek timeline 
with utmost care.  Due to the length of time that has passed, I 
have elected to place the events of the 'Next Generation' episode 
"Relics" within the timeframe between 'TUC' and this story (those 
events being Scotty's departure aboard the _Jenolen_ and that
ship's subsequent disappearance).
                 
------------------------------------------------------------------

                        Acknowledgments:

     I would like to thank Kasey Chang, for planting the 
possibility of Kirk's ultimate fate in my mind.  Though what I
dreamt up is probably not 'exactly' what he had in mind, the idea took
form while reading his Star Trek Master Timeline.  I also acknowledge
DC Comics, for designing the Romulan ship that is mentioned in this
story.  Even though that design is not "official" Trek, I thought 
it looked 'way cool' (technically speaking, of course).

-----------------------------------------------------------------
 
                        One Last Thing...

     This is my first stab at story writing of ANY kind, but it's 
something I've been wanting to try.  Comments, constructive 
criticism, suggestions for improvement are welcome and greatly 
appreciated. Please send all correspondence to 'YourNameHr'.

P.S.  A little help with a possible title wouldn't go unnoticed,
      either.....

          And Now For Something Completely Different...

-----------------------------------------------------------------
                            Part One.
                            --------

     "Me?"
     James Kirk stared, dumbfounded, at Admiral Peter Buchanan.  
It took several seconds for him to realize that he still had not 
invited the admiral in.
     For that last fleeting second, he actually considered 
closing the door without another word.  With a sigh, Jim stepped 
back, allowing Buchanan into the apartment.
     Admiral Buchanan moved to the center of Kirk's living room, 
taking the entire room in with a slow, methodical sweep.  His 
gaze paused momentarily at Jim's collection of ancient firearms.  
     Finally, the steel blue eyes turned to focus on Kirk.
     Jim was equally bold with his gaze.  His hazel eyes locked 
with the admiral's.  They stood that way, for what seemed to Kirk 
like a century.  Finally, the admiral broke off the contact, 
turning to sit on the couch.  His tone was matter-of-fact.
     "We need the best.  You're it.  What's more, you know that."
     Kirk shook his head in disbelief.  Taking a seat in his 
recliner, he looked at the walls, the ceiling, the window, 
anywhere but at the man who had intruded on his solitude.
     "Whatever I was, that's over.  I'm retired.  I've finally 
come to terms with it.  I like my life the way it is now.  Find 
somebody else."  _That didn't sound as resolute as I would've
liked_, Kirk mused to himself.
     "Nobody can fill your shoes.  I need a man I can count on 
not to crack at the first crisis."
     "You can't sit there and tell me that not one starship 
captain has the ability to do this.  What kind of officers are 
you people graduating these days, anyway?"
     Buchanan's expression grew cold.  He was not used to being 
addressed in this manner.
     Kirk saw the look for what it was.  "Forget the bully 
tactics, Buck.  I'm retired.  I don't need to be polite anymore.  
Hell, I don't even have to _listen_ to you people if I don't feel
like it."  _There_, Jim thought, _that's better.  Right?_
     Buchanan suddenly grinned like a hyena.  "As if it makes a 
difference.  Now you've just got an excuse to cover your tail.  
Don't think we've all forgotten your 'way with words'."
     The sudden humor did nothing to alter Kirk's mood.  "I 
haven't been on the bridge of a starship in five years, Pete.  
There has to be somebody else."
     "No one who will garner the instant respect that comes with 
being James Kirk.  The simple mention of your name calmed them 
down.  They were almost civilized."
     "You told them I would be coming?"  Kirk was suddenly 
outraged.  This was the same tactic that Spock had used the last 
time.....the LAST time he had had to deal with Klingons.
     "They remember what you did at the Khitomer Conference.  You 
and your crew thwarted the conspiracy, and saved their 
Chancellor and the Federation President.  In their minds, you
conducted yourself with honor.  That's not a little thing with 
the Klingons, as you're well aware."
     Kirk shook his head, "What did we accomplish?  No treaties, 
no withdrawals.  Just a lot of political rhetoric.  Empty 
promises." 
     Buchanan held up a hand.  "We're closer to total peace now 
than we've ever been.  There hasn't been so much as a dirty look 
exchanged between ships since the conference.  You are directly 
responsible for that.  It's in the official record, in case you 
didn't know."
     But Kirk did know.  When the _Enterprise_ had returned to
Earth, several weeks after the conference had ended and Starfleet 
Command had ordered them home, there had been a reception, 
complete with "ruffles and flourishes".  The entire crew had 
received official commendations.  _Posthumous awards, for some,_
Kirk remembered soberly.  Then, after all the hoopla, the 
_Enterprise_ had been decommissioned.  That simple act had also
been transformed into a media circus.  Then, finally, the grand 
old lady had been placed reverently in Starfleet Command's fleet
museum.  
     For a short time afterwards, he had visted the ship regularly.
He spent hours walking the decks, trying not to let the automated
tour guide intrude on his remembrance of voyages past.  Then, it had
finally become too painful to return, to see her hanging there in the
museum spacedock, useless, a parade ground for tourists and
dignitaries.
     It had been the final straw for Scotty as well.  If there was
anyone who loved that damned ship more than Kirk had, it was 
Scotty.  The engineer had opted for retirement, deciding to spend his
final years sailing the seas of Norpin Five in peace.  
     _Scotty....._
     The news of the USS _Jenolen's_ disappearance had struck Kirk
like a physical blow.  Kirk had seen death in countless forms 
over his career.  It hurt him to see other living beings die.  
Tormented him when it was one of his crew.  But this.....
     Kirk had served with Montgomery Scott almost since his first 
days as captain of the _Enterprise_.  He was, without question, the
finest engineer Kirk had ever known.  Seemingly capable of 
miracles, he had pulled the _Enterprise_, and her crew, from the
edge of certain destruction more times than Kirk could remember.
     Though the official reports had listed the Jenolen as 
missing, presumed destroyed, Kirk refused to believe that the 
engineer was really dead.  Something in the back of his mind, 
possibly a seventh sense, since everyone knows that starship
captains already have six, told him that Scotty was out there.  
That he had once again crafted some miracle to defeat death.
     Kirk's reverie was broken by the sound of his name.  It took 
a moment to realize where the voice was coming from.
     "Jim?  You okay?"
     Kirk forced the memories away.  Before he realized what he 
was doing, Kirk found himself going over a mental checklist.  Spock
was retired, but there was still McCoy.  He would call him at Starfleet
Medical.  And...
     _What are you doing?_  he thought.  _You can't really be thinking
of going through with this.  It's insane.  You're too old..._
     "When do we start?"

                            * * * * * 

     The shuttle touched down on the landing pad just outside 
Starfleet Headquarters.  Kirk took the opportunity to look out 
through the viewport at the expanse of the Golden Gate bridge.  
He admired the beauty and grace of the bridge, briefly recalling 
how he and his command crew had come within a hairsbreadth of 
crashing into it with a Klingon Bird-of-Prey, loaded to the gills 
with seawater and two humpback whales.
     _Have to admit_, he admitted to himself, _it was rarely
boring_.
     The shuttle settled, and the side hatch opened.  He stepped 
out onto the landing pad, giving the area a quick visual once-
over.  All alone, standing at parade rest, was a Vulcan female 
wearing Commander's insignia.  The hairstyle was slightly 
different, but still within regulation, but Kirk smiled with 
immediate recognition.  "Saavik.  It's been a long time."
     Saavik raised the inevitable eyebrow, the Vulcan equivalant 
to an ear-to-ear grin.  "Indeed, Admiral.  It has been precisely 
five years, two months, twelve days since we last met at the 
_Enterprise's_ decommissioning ceremony."
     "But who's counting?" Kirk said to the air as he looked 
around.  Saavik was the only person within a hundred meters who 
wasn't involved in shuttle maintenance or some other duty.  
"You're the welcoming committee?"
     Saavik nodded.  "Admiral Buchanan believed you would be more 
comfortable with a quiet arrival."
     _Don't you know it_, Kirk thought.  Once it was common
knowledge that he was once again wearing a Starfleet uniform, 
there would be more press activity than this place had seen since 
the Enterprise's final return to Earth.
     Kirk motioned for Saavik to lead the way to Admiral 
Buchanan's offices.  He still had no concrete information on the 
current situation.  Buchanan had supplied only the most 
superficial of facts, insisting that security prevented him from
devulging all the details.  In spite of this, Kirk had still
decided to come.  One of the reasons he had decided to return was
that Pete had sought him out personally.  This told Kirk that he did
indeed feel the sense of urgency that he had conveyed the day before,
at Kirk's apartment.  This, and the unalterable fact that Pete
Buchanan was one of his closest friends.  One of those that had
supported him throughout his career.  Thes reasons had convinced Kirk
into accepting a reinstatement.  _A temporary reinstatement_, Kirk
reminded himself.
     In retrospect, Kirk realized that Buck was one of the few 
individuals that had not been part of his command crew, his inner 
circle, that he felt he could count on under any circumstances.  
This in itself bad been enough to sway him.
     Buchanan had even gone the extra mile, convincing the Federation
President to give Kirk back his rank of Admiral, stating that it
couldn't hurt him to have that extra weight on his sleeve.
     _Well_, he thought soberly, _don't get used to it_.
     They spent the walk to the Headquarters building and the 
turbolift ride to the upper level recalling what they had been up 
to in the intervening years since last meeting.  Saavik had 
finished her tour on Vulcan as a Starfleet liaison and been
assigned to the science vessel USS _Aldrin_.  There, she had spent
four years with the science team charting nebulas near the Delta
Cygnus system.  She had recently returned to Starfleet Command as 
an ambassadorial liaison.  Their reminicing was interrupted by the
slowing of the turbolift.               
     They stepped off the lift directly into a reception area.  A 
male lieutenant looked up at their approach, rising instantly 
upon noticing Kirk's rank.  "Good morning, Admiral.  Admiral 
Buchanan and the others are already inside."
     Kirk continued to follow Saavik to the inner offices at the 
end of the short hallway were a pair of oak, or some material 
presenting a fair imitation of oak, doors, each emblazoned with 
the Starfleet insignia.  They stepped to the doors, waiting for 
the computer to notify the office's occupant that he had visitors.
     Scant seconds later, the doors opended.  Admiral Buchanan 
rose from his huge, padded chair to greet them.  "Good morning, 
Jim.  How was the flight?"
     Kirk smiled.  "Short.  Any chance that this meeting will go 
any faster?"
     Buchanan chose to let the remark pass without reply.  
Instead, he stepped to the conference table at the other end of 
the office.  The wall behind the table was dominated by large 
viewscreen, measuring from floor to ceiling, stretching 15 feet 
across.  The trio took places, with Buchanan occupying the 
overstuffed chair at the head of the table.   
     "Alright, Jim.  Here it is.  Since the conference at 
Khitomer, the Klingons have had a sincere desire to continue 
peace negotiations.  However, as it always happens when 
politicians are involved, the talks have been mired down, due to 
everything ranging from blatant mistrust regarding fleet reductions
to seating arrangements at formal dinners.
     "However, three months ago, the Klingon High Command began 
receiving reports of attacks on their outposts that border Klingon
and Romulan space.  At first, the raids were blamed on pirates, 
or renegade Klingons bent on souring negotiations with us.  That 
is, until last month."
     Buchanan pressed a key on the panel installed at his end of 
the table.  "Computer, display visual record 4T3ZRF1."        
     The viewscreen brightened, showing a starfield.  Buchanan 
narrated, "This is a visual record of the outpost's early 
detection camera system."
     The serenity of the scene was suddenly interrupted by a 
distortion of the starfield.  Kirk instantly recognized the 
effect.  "Cloaking device."         
     The ship that appeared was as first glance, a Klingon 
cruiser, K'Tinga class.  It was on course directly for them, or 
rather, the satellite.  _Damn screen is too real_, Kirk muttered,
trying to conceal the fact that his fingers had been digging into 
the chair.  _My God, that is one ugly ship up close._
     "Freeze image."  ordered Buchanan.  "Jim, look at that 
ship."  Kirk stood and approached the viewscreen.  Now he could see
that it wasn't a Klingon ship, at least not entirely.  The vessel had
a command section similar to the K'Tinga class cruiser, but any
similarities ended there.  This ship had no long, thin hull section
connecting to a secondary hull.  Instead, the hull of this ship expanded
beyond the primary hull into two larger sections.  The hulls swept back,
above and below the command section, connected by warp nacelles at port
and starboard postions.  The shape of these secondary hulls was
almost...birdlike.
     "This is a Romulan ship, Jim.  New design.  They've taken 
the K'tinga command module and combined it with a new version of 
their old Bird-of-Prey.  We're calling it a Warbird, for lack of
anything better."
     "How big is this thing?"  Jim asked, not turning from the 
screen.  He had automatically, instinctively, began sizing the 
ship up, looking for potential weaknesses.
     "Roughly two and one half times the size of a Constitution 
class starship.  But that's not the best part.  Watch.  Computer, 
resume visual record."
     The Warbird began moving again.  The torpedo tube at the 
front of the command module glowed red.  There was a flash as the 
torpedo was launched.  The screen erupted into blinding white light.
Then, the light, ship and starfield were abruptly repaced with a
blank screen.
     Buchanan turned back to the table.  "That satellite was 
actually an asteroid roughly three miles in diameter.  The first 
torpedo completely destroyed the outpost there.  Later reports 
could not confirm the existence of the asteroid.  At least, not 
in one piece.  Out of twelve outposts, this was the only one that 
gave us a clue of any kind before it was destroyed.
     "They have advanced tremendously in their weapons and cloaking
technology.  Whether they received help from an outside source is
unknown at this point."
     Kirk nodded.  "The Romulans are upset because the Klingons 
are talking peace with us.  They're afraid they'll be outgunned 
if the Klingons join the Federation.  But what do they gain by 
destroying outposts?"
     "That was only the beginning.  Now, Federation outposts are 
being attacked.  Same methods.  They're not happy at all.  And 
they are going out of their way to tell us about it."
     "Why hasn't any of this been on the news services?"
     Buchanan shook his head.  "We've been trying to contact the 
Romulans, to let them know that we're not out to start a war with 
them simply because the Klingons are on our side.  There's been 
no response.  Starfleet Command thought it wise to keep it under 
wraps for the time being."
     Kirk shook his head.  "I still don't understand where I come 
in.  You said I had to deal with the Klingons."    
     Buchanan touched another key on the pad.  "Starfleet and the 
Klingon High Command have decided that drastic measures may be in 
order."  Buchanan stood up and began to pace the length of the 
conference table, continue to speak.  "You will command a strike 
force, comprised of starships from both the Federation and the 
Klingons.  An attempt will be made to negotiate with the 
Romulans.  
     "Ambassador Sarek will conduct the negotiations.  The 
Klingons were a little skeptical at first, but they've come 
around."  The admiral's face turned solemn as he continued, 
"However, should more drastic measures be required, it is agreed 
by both the Federation Council and the Klingons that you lead the 
force."
     Kirk was stunned.  After all his years in Starfleet, he had 
never actually fought in a full-fledged war.  War with the 
Klingons had been averted by the Organians at one point, with the 
Khitomer Conference beginning to bear truth to their prophecy of 
the the Federation and the Klingons working together.  War with 
the Romulans had been avoided due only to a decades-old treaty
and the Neutral Zone.  Kirk had encountered Romulans before, but 
never on a scale such as the admiral was proposing.
     The admiral was continuing with his brief.  "Intelligence 
reports a group of twelve of those Warbirds are massing near one 
of the Romulan outposts at the Neutral Zone along Klingon space.  
We believe it is the precursor to encroachment of the Zone.  They 
may be attempting to hit the K'Lok'dri system."
     Kirk searched his memory.  K'Lok'dri was a system of four 
planets whose main purpose was producing photon torpedoes and 
warp engines for the massive Klingon military.  That was, of
course, before the explosion of Praxis, a moon of the Klingon 
homeworld, damaged that planet's atmosphere, requiring total
evacuation.  Since then, Jim had heard nothing about the 
otherwise unknown system.  "What's to gain by attacking there?"
     Buchanan called up a stellar map of the K'Lok'dri system.  
"In addition the vast arsenal stored there, it is also home to 
the Klingon High Command.  They're headquartered there until 
Klinzai's ozone layer is fully restored."  A process that would 
not be completed for another twenty years. 
     "Your strike force will be made up of eight starships, 
including the _Excelsior_.  The Klingons are also providing six of
their cruisers.  You will maneuver to a prescribed set of 
coordinates at the Neutral Zone.  There, you will be within 
communications range with that Romulan outpost.  Ambassador Sarek 
will attempt to open negotiations and stop the attacks."
     _However_, Kirk added, silently.
     "However, should those talks fail, you will have total 
operational command of the fleet.  The decisions from that point 
are yours to make.  Both we and the Klingons have agreed to this.  
To put it another way, Jim, if it hits the fan, it's your show."
     Kirk turned the figures over in his mind.  Just one of those
Warbirds had destroyed an observation outpost with little effort.
Now, twelve of those same craft were grouping at the Neutral Zone.
Fourteen starships, six of them Klingon, might not be enough to sway
any plans the Romulans harbored.
     Buchanan anticipated Kirk's next question.  "The strike force
that we've assembled comprises all available ships in the neighboring
sectors.  All other ships are too far away to be there when you arrive.
We've sent out the call, and other ships are on the way, but you'll
have to make do until then."
     _Seems to me I've heard this song before_, Kirk thought.
     "Captain Sulu is currently the commander on-site of the
strike force until you arrive at the rendezvous point."
     Saavik spoke for the first time during the meeting.  "I have 
already volunteered as Helm Officer on your vessel, Admiral Kirk."
     Kirk smiled at the Vulcan, grateful that there would be at 
least one familiar face on his ship, whichever ship that might be.
"When do we leave?"  Kirk's adrenaline was already pumping.  He
found himself impatient to begin the mission.
     "0730 tomorrow morning.  A shuttle will take you to 
SpaceDock where you'll rendezvous with your ship.  Any other
questions?"
     Kirk paused before answering.  Did he have the right to make
this next request?  "I'd like to contact some of my old command
crew.  I think that their experience would be valuable resources."
     Buchanan turned to the computer terminal at his desk.  A few
keystrokes later, he swiveled the screen so that Kirk could read 
it.  As Kirk scanned the information, a tone sounded on the 
admiral's desk communicator.    
     Oblivious to it all, Kirk studied the display:

    Spock,       Captain (ret) - Shi Kar, Vulcan.
    McCoy, L.H., Commodore     - Starfleet Medical.
    Scott,   M., Captain (ret) - Missing, presumed deceased.
     Sulu,   H., Captain       - Commander, USS Excelsior.
   Chekov,   P., Captain       - Instructor, Starfleet Academy.
    Uhura,   N., Captain       - Commander, SpaceDock Control.

     Most of his command crew was still on active duty.  Sulu 
would already be playing a vital role as captain of the 
_Excelsior_.  Spock was retired, teaching at the Vulcan Science
Academy.  Though he was still young by Vulcan standards, Kirk 
beleived that Spock had retired out of loyalty to him.  And 
Scotty......
     The most loyal crew a captain could have.  They had all run 
the gauntlet together.  Living together, nearly dying together
countless times.
     A distinctive southern drawl emanated from the air behind
him, "You didn't really think you were going to sneak off to
play without us, did you?"
     Kirk turned to face the voice.  Standing at the door were 
McCoy and Chekov. 
     Kirk's first thought was that McCoy looked ridiculous with 
the beard.  _When will he learn?_
     Admiral Buchanan was the first to react.  "I took the 
liberty of placing a few calls yesterday after I left your place.  
Hope you don't mind."
     Kirk moved to greet his former shipmates.  His friends.  
There were handshakes, embraces.  After so many years, few, if 
any, words were necessary.
     Kirk grinned like a child on Christmas morning.  "I wasn't 
sure whether or not to contact you.  This could get a little rough.
My retirement was supposed to mean a more normal life for the rest
of you."
     McCoy, as usual, had a response.  "Well, life was getting a 
might boring since you left.  Guess the Romulans think so, too.
Besides, somebody's got to keep an eye on you."
     Chekov shrugged.  "Sir, it was either this, or grade term 
papers."
     Jim studied his two friends for another moment.  Finally, 
with a final nod, he turned to Buchanan.  "Any other surprises?"
     With a grin, Buchanan shook his head.  "Not for the moment.  
We like to turn the screws slowly around here.  You are free to 
report to SpaceDock for further transfer to your ship at your
leisure.  Launch is at 0730."
     Turning back to his crewmates, Kirk remembered something he 
had said several years ago, just before he had stolen the 
_Enterprise_: "My friends, may the wind be at our backs."

                         End of Part One.
                           THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED

                         a STAR TREK Short Story by
                                Dayton Ward

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                              Historian Note:
  
     The events depicted here occur just over five years following the
events of 'The Undiscovered Country'.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                  Author's Disclaimer and Acknowledgments:

     A few pseudo-legal matters to attend to:

     Copyright Acknowledments.
     STAR TREK, STAR TREK VI: THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY, STAR TREK: THE NEXT
     GENERATION, USS ENTERPRISE are trademarks of Paramount Pictures, Inc.

     All other copyrights and trademarks associated with the properties
listed above are hereby acknowledged and respected.

     'The Road Less Traveled' is copyrighted (c) 1992 by Dayton Ward.

     This story is to be in no way intended to infringe on the established
copyrights and trademarks of Paramount Pictures.  This story is for
entertainment purposes only and is not intended for sale.

     This story may be freely distributed, subject to the following
conditions:
     (1) The copyright notices listed above and the author's name must
         accompany all copies of the chapter(s).
     (2) The chapter(s) may not be modified in any form without the express
         written consent of the author.
     (3) No charge other than reasonable distribution compensation be charged.

      The author wishes to thank 'Thirdof5 a' for the title suggestion.
After much deliberation, I could not come up with one that I felt was more
appropriate.  

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

     Please send all comments, constructive criticisms and suggestions for
improvement to 'YourNameHr'.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                         The Story so Far....

     It has been five years since the events chronicled in 'Star Trek VI: The
Undiscovered Country.'  Kirk and Spock have retired, with Spock returning to
Vulcan to teach at the Vulcan Science Academy (I never did say what Kirk was
up to, did I?).  Scotty is presumed dead, after the disappearance of the USS
_Jenolen_ (ah, but we all know better, don't we?).
     Relations between the Klingons and the Federation have continued to
grow, despite the absence of formal declarations of peace between the two
parties.  The Romulans, feeling basically left out from all the warm fuzzies
being distributed, are suspected of raiding Klingon and Federation outposts
along the Neutral Zone, using a new type of attack cruiser (a forerunner to
the Warbird seen on the 'Next Generation'.  To see what this ship might look
like, reference issues 35-40 of DC's 'Star Trek' comic.).
     Admiral Peter 'Buck' Buchanan, at the behest of the Federation Council
and the Klingon High Command, persuades Kirk to return from retirement, in
order to lead a combined Federation/Klingon strike force to the Neutral Zone,
with the hopes of dissuading the Romulans from attacking a key Klingon
installation.
     At Starfleet HQ, Kirk is briefed into the situation, and is reunited
with McCoy (sporting a beard) and Chekov (bored with teaching at Starfleet
Command).
     With all this said......

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                          THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED

                                Part Two.
                                --------

     Kirk watched Earth fall away as the shuttle rose into suborbital space.
Just like all the other times he had done this same thing, the feeling was
one of euphoria unlike anything he had ever experienced.  It was as if he was
being reborn, the return to space a baptism.  He felt more alive and vibrant
than he had in....._a while_, he mused.
     Kirk had at first questioned Admiral Buchanan's plan to shuttle he and
his party to SpaceDock, countering that a transporter would be quicker.  Buck
had argued that "rank had it's priviledges", and that he should enjoy the
ride.  Now, he was glad for the trip.  It wasn't until the shuttle had left
the confines of Terra's atmosphere that he had realized just _how_ much he
had missed being in space.  Spock had been right, all those years ago.  This
_was_ were he belonged, in space, on the bridge of a starship.
     SpaceDock appeared in the front viewport, as the shuttle pilot keyed a
few adjustments.  The young ensign reached over, activating the shuttle's
communications station.
     "SpaceDock Control.  This is shuttle 271, bearing Admiral Kirk and
party.  Request clearance for final approach."
     A non-descript, almost bored, voice replied over the cabin loudspeaker,
"Shuttle 271.  You are cleared for final approach.  Assume standard entry
profile."
     Kirk could feel the shuttle decrease it's velocity.  Looking through
the viewport, he watched as the shuttle matched it's course with that of the
slowly rotating SpaceDock.  The Dock's spacedoors parted as the pilot made
the final adjustments.  Then, the automated navigational beams embraced the
tiny craft, and they were inside.
     McCoy took the opportunity to study his old friend.  A small smile
formed as he watched Kirk's expressions change throughout the flight.  He
truly had not believed it when Kirk had announced his retirement.  "For
real." he had said, at the _Enterprise_ decommissioning.  They had never
discussed it, but McCoy had known that retirement had saddened Kirk deeply.
He had paid close attention during those first few weeks, watching as Kirk
visited the _Enterprise_ nearly every day, sometimes making multiple trips,
other times staying so long that the museum security droid had had to escort
Jim from the ship at closing time.  One time, the droid had found Kirk asleep
in his former quarters.
     Even with the serious nature of the current situation, McCoy was
convinced that this opportunity to return to space would be a a booster for
Jim.  _Besides_, he thought to himself, _I had to get away from those
neo-political blowhards at Medical._
     As they passed the threshhold of the spacedoors, Kirk began scanning the
various ships, suddenly realizing that Admiral Buchanan had not told him
which ship he was to command.  In fact, it had seemed that Buck had gone out
of his way _not_ to tell him.  They passed a sparkling new Excelsior class
heavy cruiser.  The ship bore no name or registry number.  No identity.
     "How many of those things are there, now?"  McCoy asked, to this day
still awed by the sheer _bulk_ that characterized the Excelsior class.
     Chekov nodded.  "That will be the seventh one, Doctor.  Our strike force
will have three of the others."
     Kirk was scrutinizing each ship, becoming more frustrated with each one
the shuttle skimmed past.  A suspicious whisper had begun echoing in the back
of his mind.  _We like to turn the screws slowly around here_, Buck had said.
No.  It was impossible.
     As they sailed past a Chandley class frigate, the shuttle suddenly
banked sharply to port, bringing them nearly nose to saucer with a
Constitution class starship.  It had been partially hidden from view by the
frigate.
     USS _Enterprise_, NCC-1701-A.
     Gleaming like the first time he had seen her.  There was absolutely
no evidence of the battle damage that had been inflicted on her during that
brief but fierce battle with Chang, five years ago.  When the ship had been
decommissioned and interred in the fleet museum, all the damaged sections
of the ship had been left untouched, as a reminder to all what an enormous
toll the ongoing battle for peace could exact.
     Kirk turned to McCoy and Chekov, who were both grinning.  Kirk's brow
furled.  "You both knew?"
     McCoy held up both hands in mock defense, "Only two days ago, when
Buchanan called us.  They pulled her out of mothballs, and have had crews
working on her around the clock for ten days to get her ready to go.  He told
us to keep it to ourselves.  Sort of a welcome back present, he said."
     Kirk shook his head in total astonishment.  "Why not just put us on a
new ship?  What's wrong with that monster over there?" referring to the as
yet unnamed Excelsior class ship.  "All we need is to know what to call her,
and we're off."  _Of course, it is gawd-awfully ugly looking_, Kirk appended
silently.
     Chekov fielded this latest question.  "That was the original plan, sir.
But the President had Admiral Buchanan exhume _Enterprise_ on his personal
authority.  Seems that he just couldn't see you anywhere else but on _that_
bridge."  He pointed to the shuttle bulkhead, indicating the great starship
floating beyond.
     McCoy _harumphed_ with his usual aplomb, "Or, maybe they thought it
would be cheaper to fix up the Big _E_, rather than send you out in one of
their cute new battle wagons.  You have a pretty colorful track record with
their ships, you know."
     Kirk couldn't hide the smile.  Everything was as it should be.  Almost.
He had secretly hoped to command the _Enterprise_ on this mission, but had
conceded to the fact that since the ship had been placed in the museum and
removed from active rolls, Starfleet would have assigned him something newer,
faster.  But he wasn't about to doubt the wisdom of the Federation President,
was he?
     He settled back into his chair and studied the ship as the shuttle
maneuvered along the starboard flank.  The hull positively gleamed.  _Looks
like they even scrubbed her down to the hull plates._  He took in every
detail, his eyes missing nothing.  Throughout the next several minutes, the
others remained silent, reverently leaving the admiral to his own thoughts.
     Finally, the pilot reached out to the console, the response being the
graceful bank of the shuttle as it aligned itself with the _Enterprise's_
main shuttlebay.  The doors stood open, as if eager to receive a visit from
old friends gone far too long.
     With a final sigh, the shuttle touched down, softly as a feather.  Kirk
reached out to clasp the pilot's shoulder.  "Thank you, Ensign.  I only know
one other individual who handles a shuttle with that much grace and style."
     The young officer beamed, his perfect teeth nearly blinding McCoy, who,
of course, could not depart the shuttle without his own closing statement.
"There you go, son.  A compliment from 'the Man', himself.  Be sure to tell
all your friends."
     Kirk stepped down from the shuttle, pausing for a moment to give the
interior of the shuttlebay an appreciative glance.  _Home._  Finally, he
turned and headed turbolift.  "Saavik, give Helm and Navigation a once over,
once you're settled in.  I'd like to be out of here on schedule tomorrow."
     "Aye, sir."  The Vulcan moved to another turbolift, apparently headed to
the bridge to carry out Kirk's orders immediately.  Kirk opened his mouth to
stop her, then paused.  _Spock would've done the same thing.  Besides, how
much 'settling in' does a Vulcan, do, anyway?_  Kirk realized for the first
time that Saavik carried no luggage.  _Guess that answers that_.
     Once the remaining three officers had boarded the turbolift, Kirk turned
to Chekov, who would fill the dual role as First Officer and Science Officer
for this voyage.  "I'll address the crew tomorow before departure.  After we
leave the solar system, I want a meeting of all senior officers."  He planned
to extend the invitation to Amabassador Sarek, also, but he would handle that
himself.
     "I'll run through Sickbay once I throw my stuff down, Jim".  The
turbolift slowed, halted, and the doors parted to allow McCoy through.  Once
the doors closed and the car resumed motion.  Kirk addressed Chekov again.
"Pavel, I appreciate what you and Bones are doing.  I honestly don't think
I would have been comfortable with a shipload of strangers.  Especially on
the kind of trip that this one has the potential of becoming."
     The younger man grinned _that_ grin again.  "I wouldn't exactly call
them strangers, sir.  Nearly every crewmember aboard is former _Enterprise_
personnel.  They all volunteered when they heard you would be coming back."
     "Buchanan managed to assemble a crew of volunteers in less than two
days?  Mr. Chekov, if I didn't know better, I'd swear that I was a victim
of conspiracy."
     Again, the shrug and grin.  "The admiral has been making these
arrangements for nearly two _weeks_, sir."
     Kirk shook his head, completely astounded at the lengths the Council had
gone to, organizing this operation.  They had to have operated under the
assumption that he would return from retirement all along.  "They took a
pretty big gamble.  What if I had said 'No'?"
     Chekov had no reply as the lift halted again.  Each moved to their
individual cabins.  Kirk planned to tour the bridge later that evening, but
assured his First Officer that he would have no further need of him until the
following morning.
     "I think I'll take a stroll about the ship myself, sir.  Last thing
before I turn in."
     Kirk nodded acknowledgment as came abreast of his cabin door.  His
quarters were the first on the left side of the corridor, nearest the
turbolift.  Chekov's were further down the corridor on the right side.
     Kirk stood in the doorway.  The computer had detected his presence and
brought the lighting in the room to normal intensity.  The walls were adorned
with various paintings, some of ancient seafaring vessels, others of the
space travelling variety.  As he opened his wardrobe and began storing his
belongings, he noticed a flashing on his desk terminal.  _Mail call_, he
realized.  "Computer, how many messages do I have?"
     The soft, feminine voice that characterized the _Enterprise_ main
computer replied, "There are currently eight unread messages in your
account."
     Kirk frowned.  "Anything detailing ship's business?"
     "Affirmative.  There are three ship's operational status reports, sent
at six-hour intervals from the Chief Engineer.  There is also a message from
SpaceDock Control, detailing tomorrow's departure schedule."
     "What is the ship's status?"
     "All shipboard systems operating at nominal levels.  Onboard strength
is currently two hundred seventeen personnel."
     That wasn't right.  "Where is the rest of the crew?"
     The reply was instant. "Standard crew compliment for Constitution class
starships is two hundred twenty personnel.  Three crewmembers are currently
ashore tending to personal business.  Expected time of return, 2100 hours."
     "When did they cut the crew size?"
     "Crew compliment for Federation starships restructured on stardate
9638.4.  Computer enhancements allowed downsizing of crews on most starship
classes."
     _That's got a familiar ring in it._  Kirk shuddered momentarily at a
flashback to the _last_ time they had tried to replace men with a computer.
Of course, that was a long time ago.  Computer technology had advanced
almost to a new plateau in artifical intelligence.  It made sense to turn
mundane or tedious processes over to the computers, freeing the living
inhabitants of starships to the important things, exploring the galaxy, for
one.  _Definitely not the old days_.
     Kirk suddenly remembered why he had addressed the computer in the first
place. "What are the other messages?"
     "There is a message from the Federation President.  There are two from
Admiral Peter Buchanan.  There is also a message from Spock, Shi Kar, Vulcan."
     Kirk's features brightened.  Spock!  He had not corresponded with
his old friend in nearly a year.  _Who's fault was that?_  "Computer, is the
message from Spock text or visual?"
     "Visual."
     "Playback that message.  Use the wall screen."
     The large viewscreen on the back wall of the cabin activated.  The
picture immediately focused on Spock.  _He hasn't changed a bit._  Of course,
Spock wouldn't have aged perceptibly, given the protracted lifespan of
Vulcans.  The image spoke.
     "Admiral Kirk, congratulations on your return to service.  I believe
that the Federation Council has made a most logical choice.  There are few
individuals whom I believe possess the character traits necessary to
accomplish the task you now have at hand.
     "We are yet again at an historic crossroads.  This is an opportunity to
put to rest decades of hostility between our two societies.  We have proven
once already that this seemingly insurmountable task is indeed possible.
With proper care and the appropriate people, I believe it can be achieved
again.
     "I regret that I am unable to join you on this voyage.  However, as has
always been the case, the crew of the _Enterprise_ are superbly qualified
and efficient, so you should encounter few difficulties."
     There was a momentary pause, as if Spock were questioning whether or not
to continue.  Then, his gaze appeared to stare directly at Kirk again. "Jim,
remember that the Romulans can be most single minded once they have decided
on a course of action.  For them to perpertrate these raids indicates that
they do indeed feel threatened at the proposition of an alliance between the
Federation and the Klingons.  I do not feel completely confident that this
combined fleet will give the Romulans a positive impression.  It may serve
only to further aggravate the problem.
     "You must also be made aware of the fact that my father is in
disagreement with me in this matter.  He feels that it is logical to embrace
the Romulans using this joint effort."
      Spock's eyebrow climbed for the ceiling as he finished his message, the
slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "I wish you
good luck, Admiral.  May you Live Long and Prosper."
      The image faded.  Kirk stared at it for another few seconds.  Spock's
words had started a stream of thought that did not set well with him.

                               * * * * *

     Kirk sat up in his bed, instantly awake.  A familiar feeling had begun
tingling in the back of his brain.  His own little 'red alert' signal.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
     Kirk rose from his bed, the bones in the lower part of his back
protesting. _Damn beds are still like sleeping on a rock._  He moved to the
computer terminal at his desk and keyed the interface.
     "Computer, what time is it?"
     "The time is 0607 hours."
     "Give me a listing of all ships in the strike force.  Text only, and at
the desk terminal."
     The screen lit, producing a list of starships and captains:

                         Federation Starships

                 ENTERPRISE,    NCC-1701-A - J. Kirk
                 EXCELSIOR,     NCC-2000   - H. Sulu
                 PROXIMA,       NCC-2001   - A. Lifeson
                 EXCALIBUR,     NCC-2004   - M. Griswald
                 CONSTELLATION, NCC-2500   - C. Stanz
                 MAGELLAN,      NCC-2504   - K. Richards
                 ANDROMEDA,     NCC-2505   - J. Verdia
                 ROBERT APRIL,  NCC-6003   - B. Sherman

                           Klingon Contingent

                                Unknown

     Kirk keyed the intercom. "Kirk to bridge."
     The response was immediate. "Bridge.  Commander Nunderson, sir."
     Kirk searched his memory for the name.  Giving up, he returned his
attention to the comm. "Mr. Nunderson, have communications designate a
frequency for use by Starfleet strike force ships only.  Sub-frequency and
scrambled.  I may want to talk to our people without the Klingons listening
in.  I'll also want a message fired off to our ships with that information as
soon as it's done."
     "We'll get right on it, sir."
     "Thank you.  Kirk out."
     But the feeling was still there.

                                   * * * * *

     The turbolift doors parted, revealing the bridge.  The heart and soul
of his beloved ship.
     Until he had actually stepped out onto the upper deck, it hadn't been
_entirely_ real.  Now, it was indisputable.  He was home.
     "Admiral on the bridge!" a voice Kirk recognized sounded off.  Nunderson,
the commander he had spoken to earlier.
     "Carry on, please."  Kirk stepped to the railing separating the command
well from the raised portion of the bridge.  Chekov, at the science station,
greeted Kirk with a nod and small smile.  _He looks like he's up to
something.  What now?_
     "Status report, Mr. Chekov."
     "Sir, we are scheduled to depart, on time, in twenty minutes.  All
personnel have reported aboard.  All ship's systems are in top working order."
     Kirk nodded, pleased with the report.  "How about that frequency I
ordered?", he asked as he made his way down to the command chair.  _His_
chair.
     "Yes, sir.  That was completed and the message sent forty-five minutes
ago."
     Kirk was surprised.  He had only given the order no more than an hour
ago.  To set up the required protocols for a subfrequency, with all it's
myriad of encryption algorithms, in that short amount of time?   _And_
contact the Federation strike force?  That would require...
     Chekov's grin had grown noticeably wider.  "I figured you would want it
prior to departure, so I called the best."
     That could only mean one thing.
     The port turbolift doors parted, revealing McCoy, Saavik and one Captain
Nyota Uhura.  The woman known throughout the Federation as the 'voice of the
_Enterprise_.'  "Permission to come aboard, sir?"
     Kirk was surprised, again.  "This is turning into quite a reunion.
I must be getting old.  You'd think I would have anticipated at least _some_
of this."
     McCoy, as if on cue, was the first to seize the opportunity.  "You're
not the only guy who can pull a fast one, you know.  It never occurred to
you that after _all_ these years, some of us may have learned a few tricks
from the great and powerful James T. Kirk?"
     Kirk shrugged.  "But did you learn _all_ the tricks?"
     With that, Kirk settled into the command chair.  This silent cue had the
immediate effect of returning all personnel to their stations.  With a sweep
of his arm, Kirk invited Uhura to take her place at communications.  "Glad
to have you along, Captain."
     "I wouldn't have missed it, Admiral".
     "Patch me to ship's intercom, please."
     Uhura's fingers danced over the console.  "You're on, sir."
     Kirk paused, gathering his thoughts, then addressed the ship, "This is
Admiral Kirk.  First of all, let me express my heartfelt gratitude at your
decision to join the _Enterprise_ on what is destined to become yet another
page in history.  How that history is written depends a great deal on how
well _we_ do our jobs.
     "The actual intent behind these raids that the Romulans are suspected
of conducting is unclear.  It is Ambassador Sarek's mission to determine this,
and if so, to reach an agreement with the Romulans to end them.  But, should
his efforts fail, then it will fall to us to ensure that Federation and
Klingon interests are protected.
     "Our intelligence on the situation at the Neutral Zone informs us that
we will face a group of twelve Romulan ships of a new and advanced design.
This intelligence, for the record, is not entirely substantiated.  We have
received conflicting reports from outposts along the Zone, as well as deep
cover operatives within the Romulan Empire's sphere of influence that suggest
everything from one freighter to every functional ship the Romulans could
scrape up.  To make it simple:  we don't know what we'll be facing until we
reach the Zone.
     "It is the belief of the Federation Council that this is all simply a
major misunderstanding between our two peoples.  The Council has attempted to
contact the Romulan Praetor in an attempt to establish relations.  They know
that we're coming.  Whether they'll be willing to negotiate, we apparently
won't know that, either, until we reach the Zone."
     Kirk wanted to say something else, to assure the crew that it would
work out, that there was a chance for peace with the Romulans.  He, however
did feel that assurance within himself.  Of course, he hadn't felt confident
about establishing peaceful relations with the Klingons, either.  He had
come to accept that they did indeed seem to be headed in the right direction,
but he still held his own reservations.
     "Time to departure?"  Kirk looked to Chekov.
     "Twelve minutes, admiral."
     "Who's on the schedule to leave before us?"
     Chekov keyed his console.  "Schedule inicates that all departure lanes
are open until our departure."
     Kirk was getting impatient.  It was time to _go_.  However, regulations
dictated that vessels departing SpaceDock do so according to the strict
schedules set forth by Control.
     Then, it struck him.
     What could they do?  Dismiss him from service?
     "Helm.  Thrusters ahead.  Standard departure profile."
     Saavik turned to face him.  "Begging the Admiral's pardon, but
regulation forty-three alpha prohibits ship movement about the interior of
SpaceDock without guidance from Control."
     Kirk's only reply was the grin, born of pure evil that had assumed
standard orbit on the lower half of his face.
     Saavik contemplated the situation for an unusually long period of time,
at least one point seven seconds, then decided on the only logical course
of action open to her.
     "Thrusters ahead, aye aye, sir."
     The interior of SpaceDock began to scroll across the viewscreen, the
only evidence of the ship's movement as _Enterprise_ maneuvered out of her
parking slip.  Red alert beacons began flashing throughout the dockyard, and
the wails of the alarms echoed throughout every cooridor of the massive space
station.
     The bridge intercomm sparked to life. "_Enterprise_!  This is SpaceDock
Control.  You are ordered to abort your departure profile."
     "No response, Uhura."  Kirk looked at his communications officer, who
seemed to have suddenly developed a malfunction in her earpiece.  Chekov
became most interested in one of the readouts at the science station.  McCoy
simply rolled his eyes.
     "Spacedoors two hundred meters, and closing.  Doors are still closed,
sir."
     The overhead intercom allowed the bridge crew to overhear the chaos that
had suddenly gripped SpaceDock's control center.  The luckless young
lieutenant blessed with the watch this morning had forgotten that the
channel was still open.  "Alert Command!  What does he think he's doing?  Why
does this have to happen when _I'm_ on duty?"
     "One hundred twenty-five meters and closing, sir.  We will have to abort
in eight seconds."
     Kirk examined his fingernails.
     The speaker blared again.  "Just open them!  Forget the damn regulations!
Whose going to report this if they slam into the doors?  He's crazy!"
     The space doors cycled open at the starship's approach, filling
the viewscreen with stars, the earth's horizon just visible in the lower
right corner.  Then, they were beyond the confines of the space station.
     An indicator flashed on the helm console.  "We are free and clear to
navigate, sir."
     Kirk paused momentarily, an immense weight seemingly released from his
chest.  "Ahead, full impulse power."
     The stars jumped as the _Enterprise's_ powerful impulse engines kicked
in.  They would be free of the solar system in just under five minutes.
"Mr. Nunderson, estimated time to rendezvous with the strike force?"
     The commander keyed his calculations into the navigational system.  "At
warp eight, twelve hours, fifty-one minutes, admiral."
     Kirk nodded.  "Advise engineering to stand by on warp drive as soon as
we're clear of the system.  I'll want that warp eight."  He turned back
to Uhura.  "Contact Captain Sulu, advise him of our ETA."
     "Aye, sir."  Her fingers effortlessly swept across the controls.
     Almost thirteen hours.  Once they completed the department head meeting,
there would be a lot of downtime.  In the old days, he might have challenged
Spock to a game of chess.  Or gone to work out in the gym.  Maybe he'd just
try to get some reading done.
     He could always try to outdrink McCoy.
     No, that had never worked.  McCoy always won.
     Uhura turned from her console.  "Admiral, I have an incoming message
from Starfleet Command.  Admiral Buchanan."
     "On screen."  Kirk turned back to face the viewscreen as the starfield
was replaced with the image of Peter Buchanan.
     "Nice way to start things off, Jim.  You nearly gave that poor kid a
heart attack."
     "Tell him to join the club."  McCoy muttered, standing to the left of
Kirk's chair.  Buchanan heard the remark, nonetheless.
     After several seconds of uncontrolled laughter, he managed to regain
something faintly resembling composure.  "I just called to wish you and your
crew the best of luck.  You had better bring that ship back in one piece, you
hear?  I'd hate to think I had those kids fixing that old bucket just so you
could take it out and wreck it."
     "We'll give it our best shot, Pete.  _Enterprise out."
     The starfield returned.  "We have passed outer system markers, sir."
this from Saavik."
     "Set course for the rendezvous, warp factor eight."
     Space twisted, elongated, distorted itself around the _Enterprise_ as
the subspace field formed, and the ship dissappeared as if it had never
existed.

                         End of Part Two.
                           THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED

                          a STAR TREK Novelette by
                                Dayton Ward

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                              Historian Note:
  
     The events depicted here occur just over five years following the
events of 'The Undiscovered Country'.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                  Author's Disclaimer and Acknowledgments:

     A few pseudo-legal matters to attend to:

     Copyright Acknowledments.
     STAR TREK, STAR TREK VI: THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY, STAR TREK: THE NEXT
     GENERATION, USS ENTERPRISE are trademarks of Paramount Pictures, Inc.

     All other copyrights and trademarks associated with the properties
listed above are hereby acknowledged and respected.

     'The Road Less Traveled' is copyrighted (c) 1992 by Dayton Ward.

     This story is in no way intended to infringe on the established
copyrights and trademarks of Paramount Pictures.  It is for entertainment
purposes only and is not intended for sale.

     This story may be freely distributed, subject to the following
conditions:
     (1) The copyright notices listed above and the author's name must
         accompany all copies of the chapter(s).
     (2) The chapter(s) may not be modified in any form without the express
         written consent of the author.
     (3) No charge other than reasonable distribution compensation be charged.

     The author wishes to thank Ken Fernandez for the title suggestion.
After much deliberation, I could not come up with one that I felt was more
appropriate.  Also, the author acknowledges Kasey Chang for planting the idea in
the first place.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

     The author invites commentary, both positive and negative.  This is
my first serious attempt at storywriting, and I welcome any suggestions that
any of the other "struggling artists" can provide.  I've read some of the
other work available in the data banks, and that is pretty much how I drew
up the courage to write a story of my own in the first place.
     Please send all comments, constructive criticisms and suggestions for
improvement to 'YourNameHr'.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                         The Road Less Traveled

                               Part Three.
                               ---- -----

     "Captain, I have an incoming message from the _Enterprise_."
     Hikaru Sulu rose from his command chair on the bridge of the USS
_Excelsior_ and moved to the communications station.  The lieutenant on duty
toggled a control, then spent the next few seconds listening to his earpiece
before finally looking back to the captain.  "They are notifying us of a new
scrambled frequency for use by the Starfleet ships of the strike force,
only.  They've also included a new encryption algorithm for us to use."
     Sulu frowned.  "Admiral Kirk must be up to something.  Acknowledge the
message, using the new code, and make sure that the other ships have received
it, also."
     The communications officer turned back to his console, entering commands
to the ship's communications sub-processor.
     Sulu strolled about the upper bridge deck, contemplating this new
development.  It was classic Kirk-style to load the deck with a few extra
aces.  Of course, having been under the Admiral's wing for the better part
of three decades will teach one a few things.
     Turning to his First Officer, Commander Janice Rand, Sulu looked
thoughtful as he issued his next order.  "Janice, have engineering pull the
other SSOC prototype tie-in module and op-check it.  I'll want to transport
it and it's accompanying software to the _Enterprise_ as soon as we reach
rendezvous."
     Rand acknowledged as she moved to a nearby intercomm to carry out the
captain's orders.
     _Another ace for your hand, Admiral._

                               * * * * *

     "We must offer ourselves as proof of our ability to overcome the
obstacles of distrust and fear."  Ambassador Sarek sat at the head of the
conference table.  In attendance were Kirk, McCoy, Chekov and the chief
engineer, Commander Yoshiro Tonaka.  Sarek continued.  "It has been
accomplished in the past.  You have been present on more then one occasion.
If the Romulans can observe the Federation and the Klingon Empire, who at
one time were the most bitter of enemies, working together, they will be
impelled to grasp the logic of the situation."
     Kirk, still remembering the message he had received from Spock, was the
first to speak.  "Ambassador, the Romulans are well known for being much more
emotionally driven than Vulcans, even though your races are somewhat closely
related.  What's to say they haven't become locked into a course of action,
and that the mere approach of our fleet won't provoke them into launching an
attack?"
     Sarek steepled his fingers, a familiar gesture to _Enterprise_
personnel accustomed to interacting with another Vulcan, before replying. "I
understand your skepticism, Admiral Kirk.  However, the Romulans _are_ a
more logically driven species than the Klingons, and yet, we have managed to
make remarkable progress in our relations with them.  All that was needed was
for the two parties to stand in proximity to one another for a sufficient
length of time, so that each side could _listen_ to the other.  This simple
action was the catalyst for everything that has happened to date.
Furthermore, it was the Klingons that _initiated_ those talks.  How much
time has elapsed since the last reported aggressive act between the Klingons
and the Federation?"
     Kirk still hadn't completely bought it.  "Sir, with all respect, our
relations with the Klingons haven't reached a plateau that is comfortable for
most people's tastes, mine included.  There have not been any formal
declarations of peace between our two peoples.  Our starfleets continue at
almost the same levels as before the Khitomer conference.  The Klingons have
continued to produce materiel for their war machine, though it's been
_reported_ that their actual production is radically reduced.  Only now,
_we're_ subsidizing their efforts with all the aid that we've provided.  We
helped them evacuate the Klingon homeworld, are continuing to help them
restore that planet's atmosphere, and at a tremendous cost, I'm told.  What
have they done in return?  They have graciously elected not to destroy any of
our ships that they might _accidentally_ run into."  Everyone else in the
room could almost see the sarcasm dripping from Kirk's mouth at this last
statement.
     Kirk knew it, too.  This had the potential to get completely out of
hand.  "Ambassador.  All I am saying is that we need to go into these
negotiations with our eyes open as well as our arms.  That's why this fleet
is being employed, and we're not back on Earth, negotiating via subspace
relay."
     The ambassador nodded his agreement.  "Of, course, Admiral.  I respect
your judgement.  It is one of the primary reasons that I accepted this
mission.  I am not ignorant of the potential hostilites that we face,
gentlemen.  But it is believed by the Council, and the Klingon High Command,
that this tactic is a correct one."
     Sarek rose from his chair, indicating that the meeting was over, as far
as he was concerned.  "I will be in my quarters if you require anything
further, Admiral.  Good day, gentlemen."
     The officers rose as the Vulcan made his way from the conference room.
But Kirk wasn't finished.  He motioned for the others to be seated again,
before continuing.
     "Mr. Tonaka, are we shipshape?"
     Tonaka nodded.  "Yes, Admiral.  The engines are operating at well above
nominal specifications.  All defense systems are fully operational.  If it
gets nasty, we'll be ready."
     Kirk turned to McCoy.  "Bones, how's your empire?"
     McCoy snorted.  "If it wasn't for all the blasted machinery that they
managed to stuff in there, I might be able to treat someone for a hangnail."
Why do they have to put computers in a sickbay?  Damned engineers."
     Kirk sighed.  Sickbay was ready.
     "Mr. Chekov, how soon after the rendezvous with our own ships will we
meet up with the Klingons?"
     "If we maintain warp eight to the next rally point, seven hours and
eighteen minutes.  After that, it will be an additional fifteen hours and
twenty-six minutes until we reach the designated coordinates at the Neutral
Zone."
     Kirk nodded.  "I'll want to meet with the captains of our ships before
we rendezvous with the Klingons.  I have a few tactical procedures I want to
go over."
     There were no more questions.  Kirk adjourned the meeting.  As Chekov
and Tonaka left the conference room, Kirk turned to watch the streaking of
the stars as the _Enterprise_ warped through space.  He was aware of McCoy,
still seated, studying him.  "Something on your mind, Bones?"
     The doctor stroked his beard, "Do you think we're going to war, Jim?"
     "I really don't know.  I'd like to think that we could be on the verge
of total peace, but something about all this just doesn't sit right.  It's
not like the Romulans to just do something like this without a damn good
reason.  If those ships are anything like what I saw in that outpost log,
they're not at any distinct tactical disadvantage.  Those ships are huge,
Bones, and they pack quite a punch."
     Bones held up a finger.  "Remember back when we first met up with a
Romulan ship?  They had destroyed a couple of our stations, and we played
'cat and mouse' with them for over a day."
     Kirk shook his head.  "It's not the same as it was then.  Back then,
neither of us knew the other's strengths and weaknesses.  They were probing,
trying to find out what we had.  Today, they have intelligence networks and
spies all throughout the Federation.  We have the same setup within their
Empire.  They know how to hurt us, and they could find a more efficient
method of getting to us than going after remote outposts.  Why not sneak
across the border and destroy a starbase?  Have a spy assassinate a key
leader on one of our member worlds?"
     McCoy didn't have a reply.  So, after a brief interval, he changed the
subject.  "What are you planning to do, after all this is done?"
     Kirk shrugged.  "Go back to retirement, I guess.  I don't know."  He
chuckled quietly.  "It's funny, but until I stepped off that shuttle
yesterday, I was convinced that was what I would do.  But to be honest, I
really don't know.  If we pull this off, then there really _isn't_ any reason
for me to stay."
     McCoy leaned over the table, scrutinizing his friend.  "Oh, I don't know,
I'm sure they would love to have you back.  You might even get your old job
back as Chief of Starfleet Operations."
     Kirk held up his hand.  "No, absolutely not.  That was one of the most
agonizingly _boring_ periods of my entire life.  No, Spock was right, Bones.
The only place that I belong is here.  The only reason that _here_ is here at
all is due to some misplaced sentiment by the President.  This ship's days
are past, and so are mine.  When it goes, so do I."

                               * * * * *

     The intervening hours until _Enterprise_ reached the rendezvous point
passed without incident.  Finally, after Kirk had been on the bridge for ten
minutes the evening following the staff meeting, Chekov announced, "Sensors
registering seven Federation vessels, Admiral.  Thirty seconds to visual."
     "Mr. Saavik, impulse power.  Ahead one half to rendezvous."  There was
a subtle shift in the background noise, only half heard by the crew, as the
_Enterprise_ disengaged her powerful warp engines.  The streaking stars
became distant points.  Occupying the center of the viewscreen were seven
indistinct shapes.  Chekov adjusted a control, and the view shifted.  The
Federation strike force now consisted of, in addition to the _Enterprise_:
the Excelsior class heavy cruisers _Excelsior_, _Excalibur_ and _Proxima_;
the Constellation class vessels _Constellation_, _Magellan_ and _Andromeda_;
and the Decker class destroyer _Robert April_.  Though smaller than the
_Enterprise_, the _April_ was highly maneuverable.
     Kirk swiveled his chair to face his communications officer.  "Uhura,
contact the captains of the other ships.  Send them my regards, and extend
them my invitation to meet here at 2100 hours.  We have much to discuss."
     "Aye, sir."
     Uhura relayed the message, then turned back to Kirk.  "Sir, incoming
message from _Excelsior_.  They request to make a cargo transfer.  Captain
Sulu says it's a 'present' for you, sir."  She couldn't resist smiling.
     Kirk nodded.  "Have Mr. Tonaka see to it, please."  _What are you up to,
Sulu?_

                               * * * * *

     Chief engineer Tonaka studied the non-descript container as it
materialized on Cargo Bay One's transporter pad.  It was barely over a meter
long and half a meter wide.  The sole label bore the inscription 'USS
_Excelsor_ NCC-2000'.
     Opening the container revealed two items, the first being what at first
glance appeared to be a standard console replacement module.
     As he gave the object a much closer, more detailed inspection, he
became convinced that what he was holding was definitely _not_ standard.
     The second item in the cargo container was a package of two data
cartridges.  The first cartridge bore the label 'INSTALL TO PRIMARY
AND SUBORDINATE MAINFRAMES.'  The second was addressed to Tonaka himself.
     Admiral Kirk had given him explicit instructions that whatever the
'present' was that Captain Sulu had sent over to _Enterprise_, he was to see
to it that the appropriate action was taken.

                               * * * * *

     It was thirty minutes later when Tonaka decided that the admiral needed
to examine the console and approve the installation.  He keyed the comm
panel on his desk.  "Tonaka to Admiral Kirk."
     There was a brief delay.  "Kirk here."
     "Sir, could you please come down to Engineering?  I think you need to
see for yourself what Captain Sulu has given us."
     "I'll be down after I meet with the other ship captains.  This meeting
shouldn't take long."
     "No problem, sir.  Trust me when I tell you that this gem will keep me
occupied until then."
     "See you then, Mr. Tonaka.  Kirk out."

                               * * * * *

     Kirk had begun the meeting by presenting the visual log of the Klingon
observation outpost destroyed by the warbird.  There had then been several
minutes of discussion regarding potential weaknesses, as well as proposed
offensive and defensive strategies.  The general concensus was that in the
best case scenario, they might be able to destroy half of the Romulan force,
while sustaining heavy damage to their own ships, necessitating a withdrawal.
The worst case scenario had the entire unified fleet being destroyed without
the Romulan force breaking a sweat.
     Finally, he touched a key on his control panel.  "Computer.  Display
tactical formation JTK-005."
     The gathering of starship captains turned their chairs to face the
viewscreen at the far wall of the conference room.  The screen coalesced into
a tactical schematic:

                        ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
                        ³                    ³
                        ³     ENTERPRISE      ³
                        ³                     ³
                        ³                  ³
                        ³      EXCELSIOR      ³
               ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄ¿           ÚÄÄÄÄÁÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
               ³            ³          ³            ³
               ³ EXCALIBUR   ÃÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ´     PROXIMA ³
               ³             ³           ³             ³
       ÚÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ            ³           ³            ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄ¿
       ³                     ³           ³                    ³
       ³                ÚÄÄÄÙ          ÀÄÄÄ¿               ³
       ³ CONSTELLATION   ³   ROBERT APRIL    ³       MAGELLAN ³
       ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ´                   ÀÄÄÄÄÂÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ
                         ³                      ³
                         ³              ANDROMEDA ³
                         ÀÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÙ

     Kirk gave Ambassador Sarek and the seven other starship captains a few
minutes to study the formation.  The group members exchanged thoughts and
idead among themselves.  Finally, he stood up from his chair and began to
speak as he circled the table.  "This formation distributes our firepower in
such a fashion that be can break formation into the four smaller groups
outlined in the diagram, should the need arise."
     Captain Lifeson, of the _Proxima_, was the first to respond.  "Admiral,
how do you think the Klingons will feel about this layout?"
     "Using the formation, we can protect their starships from the brunt of
a major assault if we get hit while still in the primary formation.  If we're
forced to split up, we distribute each parties resources evenly, giving us
three small groups of roughly equal firepower and maneuverability, in
addition to the command group."
     Sarek nodded, adding, "Also, while in this primary staging, we present a
unified force, a possible deterrent to any rash actions the Romulans may
take."
     Kirk grunted softly, only half agreeing with the ambassador's
assessment.  Though, that was not the primary motivating factor behind the
admiral's decision to use this particular formation.
     Captain Sulu leaned forward onto the table.  "The outpost video log
suggests that these new Romulan ships don't have the maneuverability of their
older Birds-of-Prey.  We may have the advantage there."
     Kirk nodded.  "If we are forced to engage the Romulan fleet, it will be
imperative that we dissolve their fleet cohesion, split them up.  If they get
the opportunity to concentrate their firepower..."  the sentence did not need
to be completed.
     "_Excalibur_, _Proxima_ and _Andromeda_ will command their respective
attack teams should we need to split up."
     Captain Richards, commanding the _Magellan_, spoke next.  "Won't the
Klingons feel subjugated if they're told they'll be taking orders from
Starfleet?"
     Kirk shrugged.  "How much more subjugated can they feel?  They've
already agreed to let me lead this fleet.  That also means I get to make the
decisions, in case they slept through that part of the class."
     Kirk studied the rest of the group for a few more seconds.  Seeing that
there appeared to be no more questions, he continued.  "Now, as for the
other key reason behind this particular formation..."

                               * * * * *

     Kirk had tried to sleep that evening, but to no avail.  Finally, he had
gotten dressed and surprised the night watch with an early relief as he
stepped out onto the bridge at 0010 hours.  Kirk spent the quiet hours until
his senior bridge officers reported for duty at 0400 accessing the library
computer, reading about Romulan battle strategy and tactics.
     Chekov had only been at his bridge station forty-four minutes when he
turned from his sensor displays to face the admiral.  "Sir, sensors detect a
group of six Klingon K'Tinga class cruisers, dead ahead.  They're just
sitting there, sir.  Estimated time to intercept, about four minutes."
     It was Saavik's turn to speak.  "Admiral, shall I raise the shields?"
     "Negative, Commander.  We're all friends today.  Uhura, open hailing
frequencies."
     Uhura keyed the necessary relays as _Enterprise_ decelerated into normal
space.  Dominating the center of the viewscreen, the six K'Tinga's.
     Kirk rose from the command chair and paced around the helm console to
face the viewscreen.  "This is Admiral James T. Kirk commanding the starship
_Enterprise_.  May I speak with the leader of your party?"
     There was no immediate visual response, but the bridge speaker blared to
life.  "Kirk!  It is a glorious day that we meet again!"
     The voice took a few seconds to penetrate Kirk's memory.  Just as
recognition dawned, the screen shifted from the view of the six Klingon ships
to that of a regal looking Klingon.  This particular Klingon did not have
the high-ridged bone structure on the forehead, denoting a member of the true
Imperial Klingon race.  This one looked more human than Klingon.  He sported
a long, thin, drooping mustache with a goatee beard that did little to hide
his dark complexion.  His once black hair was streaked with gray, but the
fire in the eyes was as fierce as it had been on Organia, all those years
ago.  Kor.
     "When I heard that you would command our unified force, I could not help
but volunteer my services.  It is an honor to serve under you, Kirk."  The
Klingon possessed a smile that reminded Kirk of a cat closing in for the
kill.
     "Well, I'm touched, Commander.  I must say, this is a pleasant surprise.
The last time an 'old friend' met up with me, he almost blew my ship out from
under me.  _You're_ not mad at me, are you?"  Kirk couldn't hide the smile.
     Kor laughed that small, quiet laugh that Kirk remembered from his
discussions with him on Organia.  "No, my friend, today we are warriors
fighting for the same cause.  The Organians prophecy has begun!  We are
enemies no more."
     Kirk, to his surprise, found himself strangely at ease.  Kor had been
the first Klingon that Kirk had met, face to face.  Kor had admitted to
having an admiration for him.  A part of him found himself hoping that the
admiration was still there.  Things might go a lot smoother.
     "Commander, I have some tactical information that my communications
officer will relay to you and your ships.  I think you will find it useful."
     "Very well, Admiral.  I would like to make a personal request after this
is accomplished.  I have with me a bottle or two or Romulan ale..."
     Kirk anticpated where this was going.  "It would be my honor to have you
as my guest aboard _Enterprise_, Commander."
     The Klingon smiled again.  "I look forward to it.  We have many years of
catching up to do.  Something to occupy the time before we reach the Zone."
     "Then let's get started, shall we.  The information will be transferred
shortly.  Kirk out."
     Kirk moved from the command well to the nearest turbolift.  "Mr. Chekov,
you have the conn.  As soon as Commander Kor has beamed aboard, assume the
primary formation we discussed and lay in a course for the final rendezvous
point.  Warp eight or better, please."
     Nunderson had already begun laying the new course into the navigational
system.  Chekov nodded as he moved to the center seat.  "Aye, sir.  I'll
sweet-talk Mr. Tonaka myself."

                               * * * * *

     "His brain?"
     Kirk laughed as he poured himself and Kor another drink.  "Yes, and to
this day, McCoy can't figure how he put it back without leaving a single hair
out of place."
     Kor returned his own bellowing laugh, pausing only to down a substantial
portion of his glass of ale.  "I must say, my friend, you and your crew have
had some interesting adventures.  You know, the tactics that you have
employed during your encounters against us have become required study for all
of our officers.  I must tell you that the vast majority of us have often
wondered where you get this propensity for working these feats of sorcery."
     Kirk help out his hands, palms up, signifying his ignorance.  "Some of
those, they were instinctive reactions to a given situation.  Others were
simply exagerrated bluffs.  I've been lucky."
     Kor shook his head, then put his hand to it, realizing that it had been
a foolish gesture.  _How much of this stuff have we had, anyway?_  Kirk
wondered.  He had to look down to reassure himself that his feet were still
attached.
     "Kirk, my friend, our emperor himself has stated that though you may
have embarrassed he and his empire on _numerous_ occasions, he respects and
admires you.  He has even speculated that there may be Klingon blood flowing
through your veins."
     Kirk rubbed his temples with his fingers.  "Well, right now there's more
Romulan ale than blood flowing through my veins.  My head feels like it's
been transported inside out."
     Kor rose, a bit unsteadily, from his chair.  "I think it is time we
turned in.  We will need our wits about us tomorrow."
     "Just don't go all soft on us when you sleep on a human's bed."  Kor
would utilize guest quarters aboard _Enterprise_ for the night.  Traveling at
warp eight didn't set well with the transporter systems, and Kor preferred
his internal organs in the places he had grown accustomed to finding them.
     He made his way, in somewhat angular fashion, to Kirk's door.  As the
door sensed his presence and opened, he turned to face Kirk one more time.
"Kirk, as I said before, you and I are more alike than not.  We are warriors.
We follow the path that leads to Honor.  It's a pity that our two peoples
didn't come to terms sooner.  We would probably have established a long and
lasting friendship by now."
     Kirk smiled.  "I must admit, you're one of the few Klingons that I have
ever...trusted.  It hasn't been easy for me, this 'peace' between the
Federation and your people."
     The Klingon nodded in understanding.  "I know of your son's death at the
hands of my kinsmen.  Those animals were not true warriors, Kirk.  You may
rest well, knowing that they have passed on into a far worse place, without
Honor."

                               * * * * *

     The strike force arrived at the coordinates near the Neutral Zone
without fanfare.  Ambassador Sarek had arrived on the bridge shortly before
the _Enterprise_ had come out of warp.  The starfield depicted on the
viewscreen revealed nothing out of the ordinary.
     Kirk paced the upper deck.  "Mr. Chekov, long range sensors."
     The Russian consulted several sensor readouts before turning back to
the admiral.  "Sir, sensors detect what appear to be seven large vessels
approximately two hundred thirty thousand kilometers from the Romulan
outpost."
     "Only seven?"  The intelligence reports had stated that twelve warbirds
were grouping at the outpost.  _Unless they're already on their way someplace
else_.
     "Affirmative, sir.  They appear to be stationary.  No movement,
whatsoever.  Sensors indicate that they are in a passive state.  No weapons
or shields are powered up."
     "Are they within weapons range?"
     Chekov shook his head.  "I seriously doubt it, sir.  Not unless their
weapons technology has undergone _tremendous_ improvement."
     Kirk sighed.  The Moment of Truth was at hand.  "Uhura, open hailing
frequencies.  Ambassador Sarek, it's your show."
     Sarek moved to position himself directly in front of the main
 viewscreen.
     "Romulan vessels.  I am Sarek of Vulcan, ambassador of the United
Federation of Planets.  I have been asked to speak on behalf of the
Klingon Empire as well as the Federation.  We come to you with the explicit
purpose of opening peaceful dialogue."
     The starfield flickered, then transformed into the face of a female
Romulan commander.  Kirk recognized her instantly.  _Whoops_.
     She had commanded a group of three Romulan ships that had
encountered the _Enterprise, 1701, several years ago.  Kirk had masqueraded
as a Romulan long enough to steal aboard her ship and make off with her
cloaking device.  Spock had been aboard the ship at the same time, and when
_Enterprise_ locked on the transporter to bring him back, she had
grabbed the Vulcan, thereby managing to get herself transported to the
_Enterprise_.  Scotty had managed to install the cloaking device, and they
had escaped the Romulan ships.  Starfleet had released here back to the
Romulan government shortly thereafter.
     The years had treated her well.  Of, course, Romulans aged at about the
same as Vulcans.  There were hints of gray encroaching on her dark hair, and
Kirk could see a few more wrinkles across the forehead and around her eyes.
However, she still presented the appearance of a formidable enemy.
     _This 'old home week' stuff is going a little too far_, Kirk mused to
himself.
     "Sarek of Vulcan.  I am Fleet Commander R'Jalran.  You will forgive me
if I hold some initial reservations.  My scanners show fourteen vessels at
your coordinates.  What is the purpose of this armada that you have
assembled?"
     Sarek raised an eyebrow as he replied.  "I assure you, Commander, that
we are here on a mission of peace.  As your sensors no doubt have told you,
our group is made up of Klingon as well as Federation ships.  It has taken
many years for our two peoples to reach a point where we can coexist in
this fashion.  We are finally beginning to put the distrust and hatred behind
us.  We are here now, representing the fruits of that labor, so that you
might witness it yourselves, and possibly consider joining us in forging a
lasting peace between all of our peoples."
     The Romulan commander appeared unimpressed.  "A very moving speech,
Ambassador.  However, there are those of us who are not convinced of the
sincerity of your claims."
     Chekov suddenly shouted out, the alarm echoing in his voice, "Admiral!
Sensors detecting weapons powering up on four...no...five of the Klingon
vessels!"
     The Romulan commander's expression grew ominous.  "It seems that the
hate and distrust is not as far behind you as you would like to think."  The
viewscreen suddenly returned to displaying the starfield.
     "Romulan ships are moving!  They'll be here in fifty-three seconds!"
     Kirk was already moving for the tactical station.  "Shields!  Saavik,
evasive action.  Plan 'X'!  Uhura, send to all starfleet ships: 'PANIC
BUTTON!'."
     In Buchanan's words: it had, indeed, hit the fan.

                           ------------------
                           End of Part Three.
                           ------------------

                           THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED

                          a STAR TREK Novelette by
                                Dayton Ward

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                              Historian Note:
  
     The events depicted here occur just over five years following the
events of 'The Undiscovered Country'.

     This story is pure speculation, but I have attempted to place the events
depicted here into the established Trek timeline with utmost care.  Due to
the length of time that has passed, I have elected to place the events of the
'Next Generation' episode "Relics" within the timeframe between 'TUC' and
this story (those events being Scotty's departure aboard the _Jenolen_ and
that ship's subsequent disappearance).

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                  Author's Disclaimer and Acknowledgments:

     A few pseudo-legal matters to attend to:

     Copyright Acknowledments.
     STAR TREK, STAR TREK VI: THE UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY, STAR TREK: THE NEXT
     GENERATION, USS ENTERPRISE are trademarks of Paramount Pictures, Inc.

     All other copyrights and trademarks associated with the properties
listed above are hereby acknowledged and respected.

     'The Road Less Traveled' is copyrighted (c) 1992 by Dayton Ward.

     This story is in no way intended to infringe on the established
copyrights and trademarks of Paramount Pictures.  This story is for
entertainment purposes only and is not intended for sale.

     This story may be freely distributed, subject to the following
conditions:
     (1) The copyright notices listed above and the author's name must
         accompany all copies of the chapter(s).
     (2) The chapter(s) may not be modified in any form without the express
         written consent of the author.
     (3) No charge other than reasonable distribution compensation be
         charged.

     The author wishes to thank Kene Fernandez for the title suggestion.
After much deliberation, I could not come up with one that I felt was more
appropriate.  Also, a tip of the hat to Kasey Chang for planting the idea in
the first place.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

     The author invites commentary, both positive and negative.  This is
my first serious attempt at storywriting, and I welcome any suggestions that
any of the other "struggling artists" can provide.  I've read some of the
other work available (quite enjoyable, by the way) in the data banks, and
that is pretty much how I drew up the courage to write a story of my own in
the first place.
     Please send all comments, constructive criticisms and suggestions for
improvement to 'YourNameHr'.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

                         The Road Less Traveled

                               Part Four.
                               ---- ----

     "Full power to rear deflector shields!  Lock onto the two Klingon
ships and fire!"  Sulu dove for the command well to read the tactical status
displays as _Excelsior_ launched a double salvo of photon torpedoes at the
two Klingon cruisers abreast of his ship.  The rerouting of extra power to
the rear shields was in anticpation of an assault from the Klingon vessel
directly astern of _Excelsior_.
     The Klingons, in an attempt to gain a surprise advantage, had foregone
powering up their shields.  With the strike force in this particular
formation, this move would have been identified instantly.  They had instead
chosen to activate their weapons, resulting in a more subtle change in sensor
readings received by anyone who may be monitoring them.  To their credit, the
officers manning the sensors aboard starfleet ships had been alert for just
such a move, after having been cautioned by their respective captains.
     This had the distinct advantage of catching the Klingons totally
unprepared, almost.
     Not expecting the immediate response by the Federation ships, a few of
the Klingon vessels were slow in erecting their deflector shields.
     It cost them dearly.
     The _Excelsior's first torpedoes caught the ship on the aft port
position from _Enterprise_ completely defenseless.  One torpedo detonated at
the primary hull, crippling the command module.  The second found it's mark
at the midpoint along the hull expanse connecting the primary and secondary
hulls.  The ship severed at that point, the two hull sections spinning out of
the formation in opposite directions.
     The cruiser occupying the position aft and to starboard of the
_Enterprise_ was hit by other torpedoes fired by the _Excelsior_.  That
ship's port warp nacelle took both torpedoes, vaporizing it.
     Meanwhile, the other starfleet ships were reacting, the hidden purpose
behind Kirk's unorthodox formation revealing itself, with painful clarity, to
the Klingons.
     The _Constellation_ rotated forty-five degress to port, bringing a
cruiser into it's sights.  The K'Tinga was easy prey to three rapid phaser
bursts before it could erect it's shields.  The captain of the _April_
supplemented with his own volley of torpedoes.
     A few of the Klingon captains reacted a bit faster.  Kobok, captain
of the cruiser _Bvoi'jah_, managed to fire two torpedoes at the _Proxima_
before Captain Lifeson could bring his shields up.  The starship shook as her
starboard nacelle was sheared from it's mounting.
     On board the _Proxima_, alarms were sounding throughout the ship.  Her
helm officer fought, with no avail, to bring the lumbering cruiser under
some form of control as _Proxima_ lost complete gyro control.
     The captain of the _Bvoi'jah_ paused momentarily, his gutteral war cry
echoing throught the confines of the bridge.  His momentary victory
celebration proved to be fatal. "Evasive!"  Kobok cried.  But it was too
late.
     The _Proxima_, completely out of control, continued to spin it's way
across the rapidly dissolving formation.  It was interrupted by the
_Bvoi'jah_.  The horrendous sound of the hull being ripped apart echoed
in the ears of both ship crews, each knowing, instinctively, that the end was
at hand.
     As the two ships collided, the shock knocked out _Proxima's_ primary and
secondary computer cores.  As emergency backups sluggishly attempted to
compensate, certain safeguard systems momentarily...fluttered.
     Most noteable among these systems was the one responsible for the
maintenance of the anti-matter containment field in the warp drive reactor
core.
     The resulting explosion instantly decimated both ships.
     The captains of the _April_ and _Andromeda_ barely had enough reaction
time to order evasive action and route emergency power to their forward
deflector shields.
     As _April_ and _Andromeda_ veered away from the collision area, the
captain of the Klingon vessel _K'tok_ attempted to take advantage of the
rapidly disintegrating cohesion of the formation.  His ship had been bringing
up the rear of the strike force, running parallel with _Andromeda_.  His next
move was to attempt to get behind the _Constellation_ while she was still
occupied.
     What the Klingon had not counted on that _his_ move had been
anticipated.
    _Excalibur's_ aft torpedo banks suddenly erupted, launching a volley of
torpedoes.  Both of the them struck the _K'tok_ head on.  They made contact
at bridge, obliterating it and a substantial portion of the upper command
module.  With no one left alive to guide the warship, it began to drift
aimlessly.
     In the meantime, the _Robert April_ had managed to help complete what
the _Constellation_ had begun.  Two volleys of phaser fire, accompanied by
three torpedoes, did just that.  The Klingon vessel's rear shields, operating
at a mere half capacity after the devastating first strike by the
_Constellation_, buckled.  The hull was punctured in several places.  The
ship lurched as it's artificial atmosphere was vented to space.

                               * * * * *

     "Evasive starboard!  Bring us about!"
     Saavik's long fingers danced across the helm console, desperately
fighting to bring the _Enterprise_ around to face one of the remaining
Klingon vessels that hadn't suffered from his surprise attack.
     When Kirk had sent the 'PANIC BUTTON' message, the other Federation
starship captains had reacted, for the most part, superbly.  The formation
that they had been using had allowed each Federation ship, with the exception
of _Enterprise_, to engage a Klingon vessel with the minimum of maneuvering.
     The tactic had, so far as Kirk could tell, worked.  Once the order had
been issued, Kirk's plan had been to let the starship commanders evaluate and
react to their own individual situations as they saw fit.  Thus, he had not
had the opportunity to obtain status reports from the other ships.
     Then, proximity alarms had warned him about the approaching Klingon
cruiser, and now he had his own problems.
     _Enterprise_ veered away from the formation, clawing for maneuvering
room in order to engage the Klingon ship.  Kirk was also counting seconds,
acutely aware that very few of those fifty-three seconds that Chekov had
predicted until the the arrival of the Romulan ships remained.
     "Turn those damn alarms off!"  Kirk shouted above the din.  As
_Enterprise_ swung around, the battle raged on the main viewscreen.  The
bridge crew were helpless spectators to the collision between the _Proxima_
and the Klingon ship, then to the subsequent explosion.
     "Oh my God!" someone cried.
     "Sir, Klingon vessel astern!  He's closing!"
     "Saavik, roll her to port!"
     The starship's hull groaned in protest as Saavik spared no expense in
sending _Enterprise_ rolling out of the path of the just-launched torpedo.
     Then, it happened.
     Another Klingon vessel, this one missing a warp nacelle, drifted into
the fray, firing torpedoes.  _At the other Klingon cruiser_.
     The targeted K'Tinga was caught completely unaware.  The torpedoes
slammed into her secondary hull, sending it into a roll of it's own.  This
gave _Enterprise_ enough time to reestablish a defensive posture.
     Nunderson looked over his shoulder at Kirk, "I've got a lock!"
     "Fire torpedoes!"
     _Enterprise's_ forward torpedo tubes flared as the double volley of
torpedoes launched.
     The first two torpedoes launched accomplished little.  One missed,
completely.  The second struck a glancing blow along the top portion of the
enemy vessel's secondary hull.
     The second volley, however, made up some of the difference.
     Both torpedoes struck simultaneously, destroying the Klingon cruiser's
forward torpedo launcher, as well as puncturing the command module's outer
hull.  The K'Tinga promptly broke off it's attack.
     Chekov swung around from the science station.  "Fifteen seconds!"
     The Russian didn't even pause to wipe the sweat dripping from his brow
onto the science consoles.  "Sensors show two Klingon vessels destroyed.
Another has been hulled and is adrift.  The other three show extensive
damage."
     His tactic had worked better than Kirk had anticipated.  He swung his
chair to face communications.  "Uhura!  Give the order to the other ships to
take whatever evasive action they have to.  Don't let those warbirds group
together on us!"
     "Warbirds decloaking!"
     Kirk turned back to the viewscreen.  "Stand by, all weapons!"

                               * * * * *

     The Romulan warbirds began appearing, everywhere, it seemed.
Immediately after becoming visible, one of the warbirds opened up with a full
disruptor volley.  The unfortunate recipient was the _Magellan_.
     The disruptor blasts tore into the upper portion of the ship's saucer
section.  The resulting explosion tore away the area housing the bridge,
sending it careening off into space.
     A second volley caught the ship at the engineering section.  The
stresses of the violent, successive blasts took their toll on the starship,
and it began to break up.
     The remaining starfleet ships had broken away from their individual
engagements with Klingon vessels, desperately grasping for some way to repel
this new threat.
     The next casualty to the Romulan offensive was to be the _Robert April_.
Her smaller mass and greater mobility could not help her captain to elude the
two warbirds as they closed in from both flanks.  Disrupter banks flared, the
first volley striking the ship at her main deflector dish.  The second salvo
detonated at the torpedo room, igniting an explosion that engulfed the
destroyer instantaneously.

                               * * * * *

     _Enterprise_ had barely avoided the fate that had befallen the
_Magellan_ and _April_.  Saavik had executed a seemingly impossible series of
evasive maneuvers that threatened to tear the ship apart.
     "Sensors report _Magellan_ and _Robert April_ destroyed also, sir."
this from Chekov.
     "Admiral!  There is an incoming message from Kor, sir."
     Kirk started to tell Uhura to clear the frequency.  Something, however,
stopped him.  "Put him on, audio only."
     The bridge speaker blared with the Klingon's voice.  "Kirk!  This was
not my doing!  I swear, on my honor, that I had no knowledge of this deceit!
I am just as much a victim of this as you.!"
     Kirk's first reaction was to seek out the Klingon's ship and launch
every remaining torpedo at it.  But....
     "Saavik, continue evasive.  We don't stand a chance if one of those
warbirds gets ahold of us.  Uhura, which ship is he on?"
     Uhura scanned her console.  "Bearing two three six mark nine, sir.  His
was the ship that destroyed the other K'Tinga."
     Chekov was already checking sensor logs.  "Admiral, his ship has not
fired once, except to destroy the other Klingon vessel.  His was aft and
starboard of us in the formation, and for the first ten to fifteen seconds,
he had us dead to rights."
     Kirk wrestled with his feelings.  _Don't believe them!  Don't trust
them!_ he had said, a few years ago.  It wasn't unheard of for a Klingon to
kill another Klingon, or even to destroy a Klingon ship.  But if he had been
a part of this grand deception that they had all walked so blindly into, why
hadn't he taken the easy shot, and crippled _Enterprise_ outright?
     He was startled out of his reverie by the wail of the proximity alarm.
He turned to Chekov, who did not turn from his sensors as he shouted,
"Warbird, sir!  Bearing one thirteen mark forty-six!  He's closing!"
     "Evasive port, Saavik!"
     The swiftness of the Vulcan saved the _Enterprise_ from almost certain
destruction.
     But the starship was not completely spared.
     Saavik's aggressive maneuver had enabled the _Enterprise_ to avoid being
hit dead-on by the warbird's disruptor blast.  The salvo did, however, manage
to strike a glancing blow to the rear portion of the starship's secondary
hull.  The main shuttlebay received the most damage.  The bay doors were
literally torn from their mountings, immediately exposing the shuttlebay and
the four crewmembers there to vacuum.
     On the bridge, alarms began sounding again.  "We're hit!  Shuttlebay has
been compromised!"  One of the monitor's at Chekov's station switched to a
camera angle that looked down at the main landing deck, from the control
room.  The monitor displayed, without compassion, the explosive decompression
of the bay.  Chekov watched in horror as the entire compartment was emptied
in seconds.  Helpless crewmembers, the shuttlecraft, maintenance equipment
were blown through the gaping hole that had once been the shuttlebay hatch.
     _Enterprise_ lurched in reaction to the savage decompression, and Saavik
could not get immediate response from the helm control.
     Then, the second salvo hit.
     The blast barely missed the underside of the saucer, instead taking the
ship at the primary hull support pylon.  The forward photon tubes were
destroyed, and the pylon strained in protest, threatening to shear away.
     The impact from the second salvo had repercussions throughout the ship.
Engineering was rocked from various secondary explosions.  Coolant began
spewing forth from ruptured pipes and conduits.  The lights went out, and
emergency power was slow in activating.
     Tonaka was attempting to keep the situation under something resembling
control.  "Everybody into masks!"   The engineering staff stumbled about in
the near darkness.  They had only seconds before the coolant reached lethal
levels in the now-sealed compartment.
     The damage was felt on the bridge, also.  As the second disruptor volley
hit, the Navigation console suddenly erupted.  Nunderson was thrown from his
seat and over the bridge railing to land at Uhura's feet.
     Consoles all around the bridge exploded, sending sparks and flame in all
directions.  The bridge crew scrambled for fire extinguishers.
     "Kirk to Sickbay!  Man down on the bridge!"  He vaulted from his chair
and rushed to the injured crewman.  Feeling for a pulse, he found one.  It
was weak, but it was there.
     Saavik punched controls on her console, attempting to bring the ship
about.  "Sir, the helm is going unresponsive!"
     Kirk punched the nearest comm button.  "Engineering!  What's happening
down there?"  There was no response.
     "Uhura, try to get me a status report."
     Uhura was struggling to bring some sense of order to the torrent of
messages, damage control reports, and cries for help that were erupting
through her earpiece.  Her eyes suddenly went wide as she turned to face
Kirk.  "Sir, there is an incoming message from one of the Romulan ships.
Their commander wishes to discuss...our surrender."
     All eyes were on Kirk as he moved to his command chair.  The turbolift
doors opened, and McCoy came running onto the bridge.  He moved directly to
the injured Nunderson, and began examining him with his tricorder.  Leaving
the scanner to run, he dove into his medikit and withdrew a hypo.  Checking
the dosage, he pumped the medication directly into the injured man's neck.
     Kirk had to deal with the Romulan commander, so he reluctantly turned
his attention from the downed crewman and faced the viewscreen.  "On screen,
please."
     The picture was distorted, unfocused.  The commander's expression was
ice cold.  "This is Fleet Commander R'Jalran.  You will surrender your
vessel, Admiral Kirk.  You are a prisoner of the Romulan Empire.  You are
to be taken to Romulus, where you will be tried as a war criminal and
executed."

                               * * * * *

     R'Jalran had commanded her warbirds to discontinue the assault on what
remained of the Federation strike force.  Along with two of the damaged
Klingon vessels, they had taken up positions surrounding the starfleet
ships.  The remaining Klingon ship, Kor's, had assumed a position within the
surrounded area, lending further credence to his claim that he too had been
deceived.
     Aboard the _Excelsior_, Sulu and his bridge crew watched the dialogue
between the Romulan Commander and Admiral Kirk.  The viewscreen displayed a
split image, with each speaker occupying one half.  The damage to the
_Enterprise_ bridge was tremendous, at least, from the screen's point of
view.
     Sulu knew, in his gut, that they were outclassed, outgunned.  The only
chance for their survival lay in the hands of the man on the viewscreen.

                               * * * * *

     "I request terms for surrender, Commander."
     The Romulan's eyebrow rose as she briefly considered denying any such
offer.  Finally, she replied.  "State your terms, Admiral."
     Kirk stood up and walked around the helm console to stand squarely in
front of the main viewer.  "Take me, only.  You've proven that you can
destroy us if you see fit.  I ask that you spare my ships and their crews."
     R'Jalran pondered the offer for what seemed to Kirk like hours.  "I
except, Admiral Kirk, with one condition of my own.  The _Enterprise_ will
become property of the Empire, also.  It has become a symbol of tyranny and
embarrassment to us, and I want to see it destroyed in an appropriately
degrading manner.  You may evacuate your crew to your other ships.  If we
detect any deception, I will order the immediate destruction of all
Federation vessels."
     "A full evacuation of the ship will take some time, Commander."
     The Romulan's expression did not waver.  "Fifteen minutes, Kirk."  With
that, the screen returned to the view of the warbird.
     Kirk turned to the science station.  "Mr. Chekov, how bad are we hurt?"
     Chekov consulted several readouts.  "Warp and impulse engines are
offline, sir.  Main computer core is destroyed.  We still have helm control,
but it will have to be rerouted to auxiliary control.  Life support systems
are out.  We have approximately three hours of breathable oxygen left.  It
would be more, but the emergency bulkheads on the shuttle deck were damaged,
so a large portion of that area of the ship is in vacuum."
     "Casualties?"
     Chekov shook his head.  "Best estimate shows thirty-seven dead or
unaccounted for.  Fifty-two injured.  Twenty of those are critical."
     McCoy looked up from the deck where Nunderson lay.  "Make that
thirty-eight, Jim.  There was too much internal damage."
     Kirk sagged, visibly.  There was only one alternative.  He moved to his
command chair and touched a control on the arm panel.  "All hands, this is
Admiral Kirk.  You are to begin moving to transporter stations immediately.
Stand by to be evacuated to our sister ships.  Abandon ship."
     Kirk turned to face Chekov once more.  "Handle the transport of those
crewmen in the sealed Engineering compartments, Mr. Chekov."
     It was over.

                               * * * * *

     Chekov returned to the bridge slightly over ten minutes later.  Kirk was
talking to Captain Sulu, who was reporting the status of the remaining
Federation starships.
     "You will assume operational command of the strike force, Captain.  You
will proceed to starbase sixty-one and effect repairs and personnel transfers
to Earth."
     "Understood, Admiral."  The look of defeat and utter loss was evident
in Sulu's eyes as he acknowledged the orders.
     Sulu contemplated beaming himself over to _Enterprise_, to stand trial
at Kirk's side, in spite of the admiral's order to the contrary.  Kirk had
stated the obvious: Sulu was captain of his own ship now, and was also to
take responsibility for the conduct of the remaining starships to a safe
haven.  The Romulan Commander had promised that the other ships would be
allowed to withdraw without interference, so long as the terms of the
surrender were observed.
     However, it didn't make it any easier for Sulu to swallow.
     "Thank you, Hikaru.  Kirk out."
     The communication ended, and Kirk turned to Chekov.  "All personnel
have been transported aboard the other vessels, sir." the Russian reported.
     Kirk's eyebrow rose as he turned to face the remaining personnel on
the bridge.  In addition to himself and Chekov, there were McCoy, Uhura,
Saavik, and Ambassador Sarek.
     Just then a column of energy coalesced on the bridge upper deck, near
the main viewscreen.  The transporter beam materialized into the form of
Kor.
     The Klingon greeted the bridge crew with a nod and a smile, then faced
Kirk.  "I go with you, Kirk.  We will face our final fate together, as
warriors."
     Kirk held a hand up, shaking his head.  "My orders were for everyone to
abandon the ship, Mr. Chekov."
     McCoy was the first to reply.  "Forget it, Jim.  There's no way that
I'm going to let you go by yourself.  Not now, not after all this."
     Uhura moved to stand next to the doctor.  "That goes for me too, sir.
"We've been through too much together to let you face this alone."
     Kirk turned to look at Saavik.  The Vulcan nodded slightly, eyebrow
rising again.  "I stand with you also, Admiral.  It is...logical."
     Ambassador added weight to the argument has he moved to stand next to
Kor, "Admiral Kirk, I have witnessed you risk your life repeatedly.  You have
saved my son's life on more than one occasion.  You have saved the Earth from
certain destruction, twice that I am aware of.  Always, you have placed the
lives of others above your own.  I stand with you now, as a simple token
of...gratitude.  My son has shown me that there is no shame in expressing
this sentiment."
     Kirk blinked away tears as the communications console beeped, and Uhura
moved to toggle a control.  The distorted image of the Romulan Commander
appeared on the screen.  "Admiral Kirk, your time as expired."
     "I...we are ready, Commander.  Several members of my crew have expressed
a desire to remain aboard.  I ask that they be allowed to stay with me."
     The suspicion was obvious on her face.  "I warn you, Kirk, none of your
infamous tricks."
     Kirk shook his head.  "I promise you, they will cause no trouble."
     R'Jalran paused, then nodded.  Very well, Admiral.  You and your staff
may remain aboard your ship for the time being.  Our sensors show extensive
damage to your propulsion and weapons systems, so therefore, I do not view
you as a threat.  My ship will lock a tractor beam to yours, and you will be
towed to a Romulan base."
     "We are standing by, Commander."
     The viewscreen returned to the view of the starfield.  Kirk faced his
companions.  Uhura had returned to her station, as had Chekov.  McCoy had
taken a seat at one of the abandoned stations.  Saavik had resumed her seat
at the helm console.  Sarek merely stood alongside Kor near the aft
turbolift.
     Kirk moved to the half-demolished helm/navigation console.  The
navigator's station had been almost completely destroyed.  Helm was intact,
but with all primary control systems and the main computer core down, it was
powerless to move the ship.
     His hand went to the newly installed console that rested between the two
stations.  The readouts on the surface of the console depicted various ship
systems graphics, in miniature.  Warp drive, shield status, transporter
controls, weapons.  Nearly every major shipboard system was represented.
     Kirk keyed a control on the console.  "Computer, activate SSOC console."
     The computer's feminine voice replied, "Identify for security access."
     "Kirk, Admiral James T., authorization code Gamma X-ray Nine Baker One
Seven Alpha, enable."
     The SSOC, Starship Systems Override Console, came to life.

                               * * * * *

     The concept behind the SSOC was still in the experimental stage.
_Excelsior_ had field tested the SSOC system and reported flawless execution.
Current plans stated that the system was to be installed in all currently
active Federation starships.
     Rumors about the origins of the SSOC abounded.  It had been argued for
decades that starships could not be automated.  There were just too many
tasks to be carried out to trust the computers to handle them all.  There
had been no problems interfacing systems to handle the more mundane, almost
autonomous functions.  But to completely automate all primary starship
systems?  The experts had stated that it was impossible.
     Montgomery Scott had proven them wrong.
     The story of how Kirk and his command crew had hijacked the
_Enterprise_, NCC-1701, was still a popular one among the cadets of Starfleet
Academy, if not the instructors.  One of the primary reasons that the
hijack had succeeded with only five people was that Captain Scott had jury-
rigged an automation center into the starship's control system.  The system
that he had implemented had been crude, just enough to accomplish their
goals.
     Apparently, several years later, a young, enthusiastic engineer aboard
the USS _Challenger_ had been bored while that ship had been assigned survey
duty.  Having read the infamous story dozens of times, this young lad had set
out to design just such a system.  His intent: to prove that such a system
could in fact be a valuable captain's resource in the event of standard
system failure, say, due to ship to ship combat or some other catastrophe.
The captain and the bridge crew would be able to control all major ship's
systems from the automated override, with the ship's computers programmed to
reroute the necessary relays and software in the event of damage.
     Needless to say, Starfleet welcomed the idea with open arms.  Two
prototypes were constructed, and a team of computer design specialists spent
months writing and rewriting the necessary software interface.  The first
of the prototypes was aboard the _Excelsior_.

                               * * * * *

     Kirk watched as the second SSOC prototype's system readouts came to
life.  Several indicators glowed red, signifying that the represented system
was offline.  Among the damaged systems were: Warp and impulse drives;
weapons; life support.  Not a good picture.
     Kirk keyed several commands into the SSOC console.  Then turned to take
his place in the command chair.
     The warbirds had maneuvered into a circular formation around the
_Enterprise_.  In seconds, the lead Romulan ship would engage its tractor
beam.  Kirk watched one particular readout.  There wasn't much time.
     The readout under Kirk's scrutiny suddenly blinked green.
     Kirk thumbed the panel on his chair arm.  "Computer, execute directive
One Alpha."
     Everyone on the bridge looked up in alarm, then to Kirk as the SSOC
engaged the transporter system.  Then, they were gone.
     And James Kirk was alone.

                               * * * * *

     The _Enterprise_ bridge crew materialized on the bridge of the
_Excelsior_, much to the complete surprise of Captain Sulu and his staff.
     "No!" cried Uhura.
     "Admiral, you can't!"
     "God damn you, Jim!" McCoy and the others turned to face the viewscreen.
They watched, helplessly, as _Enterprise_ was harnessed by the lead warbird's
tractor beam.  The remaining Romulan ships closed their formation to surround
the _Enterprise_ as the group began moving away.  Their destination, the very
heart of the Romulan Empire.
     Suddenly, the screen shifted to a view of the Romulan Commander.  Her
expression as cold and calculating as ever.  "Attention, Federation vessels.
Admiral Kirk has bought all of your lives with his own.  It would be prudent
if you were to withdraw now.  I guarantee that next time, I will not be as
generous.  This day marks the beginning of a new page in history.  Our Empire
is destined to defeat your Federation, as well as those dogs that you have
befriended.  Take this message back to your leaders.  Your days are
numbered."
     The viewscreen momentarily shifted back to the scene of the Romulan
ships moving away with the _Enterprise_.  Then, Admiral Kirk's face appeared.
     "Jim, you bastard!"  McCoy was livid.
     Kirk appeared tired, defeated.  Except for his eyes.  Bones could see
the determination in those eyes, the desire to find some way to overcome the
odds.  He had seen Kirk craft the seemingly impossible time and again.
However, he could not conceive of any miracle that the admiral, his friend,
could possibly produce.  He had lost.
     "Captain Sulu, you will proceed immediately to the nearest starbase.
Starfleet Command must be made aware of this new Romulan threat."
     "Aye, Admiral."  Sulu nearly choked on the words.
     Kirk paused, looked at the deck, then back up again.  "My friends, I
cannot allow you to be a part of what lies ahead for me.  All of you
volunteered for this mission for your own reasons, not the least of them, I
know, a loyalty to me.  I cannot help but be moved by these gestures, but I
see no need for you to face death out of your devotion to a commanding
officer.  We have been together for a great many years.  In that time, you
have proven your dedication to me and to the crew of the _Enterprise_ time
and again.
     "As your adm...as your Captain, I ask that you obey this one last order.
If this conflict erupts to the levels that R'Jalran has predicted, Starfleet
will need your experience and abilities to repel that impending assault."

                               * * * * *

     He could think of nothing else to say.
     "Goodbye, my friends."  he thumbed the comm button, severing the
connection.  The underbelly of the Romulan warbird returned to the
viewscreen.
     Kirk felt completely, utterly, defeated.  The Romulans, with these new
ships, would be difficult to stop, should they decide to launch a new
offensive on Federation or Klingon targets.  War was inevitable.  He felt so
useless.  He would most likely not live to see that war.  Just as well, he
thought.  Life under Romulan rule would be unpleasant, at best.
     Then, it struck him.
     He moved to the center console, consulting the sensor diagram on the
SSOC.  It depicted the tight formation that the warbirds had assumed around
the ship.  The entire group was in an area less than a five hundred
kilometers from the _Enterprise's_ position in all directions.  Not a prudent
tactic.  Kirk decided, right then, that it would cost them.
     He moved to enter commands to the SSOC console.
     "Computer, set self-destruct.  SSOC command directive Omega Zero Nine
Four Six, enable."
     "Specify time delay."
     Kirk pondered the question for a moment.  "Stand by for immediate
execution upon voice command from me."
     "Standing by."
     Kirk glanced at the tactical readout again.  They had moved far beyond
transporter range of the Starfleet ships.  _In for a penny, in for a pound._
     Kirk keyed another sequence of commands to the console.

                               * * * * *

     "Commander!  The _Enterprise_ has engaged it's tractor beam on _us_."
     R'Jalran moved to the centurion's side to inspect the sensor display for
herself.  Her look of utter puzzlement echoed the centurion's.
     "What is he up to?  What can he hope to accomplish?"
     She began to move back to her station when realization suddenly dawned.
"Weapons!  Lock on and destroy that ship!"

                               * * * * *

     With a voice of utter calm, yet finality, James Kirk issued his last
order as master of the starship _Enterprise_.
     "Execute self-destruct."

                                  FINI



