Scotty

It had been more than an hour since the end of the Captain’s Table. Scotty had enjoyed the enthusiasm of the Challenger crew, seeing them praised and commended by their captain. He’d also enjoyed the generous amounts of Scotch available, although he’d behaved himself. With new orders, most of the officers had eventually given their complements and drifted off to their duties, until he was finally alone at the table with an attractive lass who was the ship’s newly-promoted communications officer. At 72, he didn’t delude himself that Lieutenant (j.g.) Lessard held anything more than healthy respect, but he didn’t mind having a youthful woman sit there hanging on his every word. “I’ve known my share of Klingons,” he regaled, “and I’ve even shared a drink with generals and Chancellors, but I never met a more pompous, preening one than that Koloth. Considering all the tribble the Enterprise gave him, I wouldna thought he’d help a Federation starship at all.” Josephine wrinkled her nose a bit, not familiar with the unusual pronunciation of ‘trouble’, but nodded. “I guess it’s as you said,” she answered. “A new era.” “Aye,” the engineer acknowledged, setting down his empty glass. “Well, he was no fan of Captain Kirk after we discovered the Klingon plans for Sherman’s Planet and that poisoned quadrotricale.” Lessard shifted nervously, recalling something curious the Scotsman had said during the dinner. Her voice fell almost to a whisper, sounding reverential, “Sir, what did you mean when you said Captain Kirk isn’t dead?” The expression on the older man’s face softened, even as the smile fell away. He took a weary breath and reached over for the bottle, replenishing his glass. He lifted the tumbler slowly, swirling the contents. “I’ve been in Starfleet since I was twenty years old, lassie,” he regaled. “And in all my years I’ve never seen a man with the drive, the determination, the sheer luck of James T. Kirk.” He leaned forward, suddenly animated. “Do ya know how many times he saved our planet from one alien probe or another?” Lessard smiled, instantly recalling Nomad, V’Ger, and the Whalesong crisis. Were there others? “I saw that man stare down Romulan fleets, fight Gorn with his bare hands, challenge a god to his face! I canna tell you how many times we thought him gone, only to see him turn up when we least expected.” An image popped in his mind, remembering his surprise in the Enterprise sickbay, finding the captain not only alive, but with pointed ears disguised as a Romulan. “But the Enterprise-B…?” Lessard found herself objecting mildly. “I know, lass, I was there,” he reassured her, patting her on the arm. “I saw what that energy ribbon did to the ship. I know it sounds crazy, but I didna see anything to convince me the universe is done with Jim Kirk.” He saw her expression change and recognized the look of gentle concern. How could he explain the captain’s penchant for cheating death, of tricking his way out of it? How could he explain how he’d stood at a funeral only to see Jim Kirk defy admirals, steal starships, and risk his life just to bring that friend back from the dead? “Don’t worry about me, dearie," he offered. "I’m not on some quest to prove anything. It’s just… someday I wouldna be surprised to turn around and see him there, ready to save us again.” He looked off wistfully. “I canna help but think when he dies, it’ll be on the bridge.” There was some silence, broken only by stewards clearing evidence of the well-attended dinner. It was further broken as the wall unit chirped and a voice announced. “Lessard to the bridge. Lieutenant Lessard, please report to the bridge.” The new lieutenant straightened at the message. She looked apologetically at the senior engineer. “I’m sorry, but…” Scotty was smiles again as he got to his feet. “I’d never stand in the way of an officer and her duty.” Lessard paused, cycling through the appropriate thing to say. As a communications officer, she had some experience in closing hailing frequencies on a good note. This was no differemt. “It was an honor to meet you, captain.” She turned away and headed to the wall unit, ready to answer the summons. He watched her go. A new generation for a new era, he mused, and a new pasture for the old. He sighed, despite himself. His transport to Earth would leave within the hour, then it was off to Aberdeen to close his affairs, and then the long trip aboard the Jenolan to Norpin V. He glanced around, breathing in one more moment of starship life. After fifty years of service, this might be one of his last moments aboard a ship of the line. He glanced toward the crewman that Captain Seiben had assigned as his escort, headed toward him, off Challenger, and into retirement.

Montgomery Scott, retired Starfleet captain and renowned engineer, moved through the shiny corridors of the starship Challenger. He'd once considered the class nothing more than a slick bucket of bolts. The transwarp experiment had proved a failure, but the spaceframe had managed to prove itself worthy. Sulu was out there commanding Excelsior, and his daughter was at the helm of the new Enterprise. Scotty was sure this Challenger was as sturdy as her sisters. She'd held her own against those Klingons, hadn't she? She was in her prime, he thought, a far cry from my own state. He'd already send ahead the boat he'd bought last year, just before the Khitomer conference and that bad business with Gorkon's assassination. It would be waiting for him to enjoy on the seas of Norpin V. But in the past few months, the restless engineer in him had managed to find some thorny challenge to review or some consultation to make before taking that final cruise to the retirement colony. Just a few minutes earlier, he had listened to the junior engineer and the Vulcan talk about their atmospheric scrubbing process and the enhancements they'd made at Qo'noS. Suspending material in the matter stream, they'd explained, and eliminating the undesireable particles like some kind of biological filter. On a planetary scale it could take decades, he estimated, but the idea had merit. Scotty smiled. He'd done so many crazy things with the transporter, he was surprised he hadn't come up with it himself. The engines were his great love, but he had mastered the transporter along the way. How many times had he managed to pluck Captain Kirk out of thin air? Unconsiously, the smile faded. The loss of Jim Kirk earlier that year had hit him harder than he'd realized. Although Scotty had been planning retirement since well before Praxis, it was only after the ill-fated events of the Enterprise-B that he felt the galaxy was telling him his time was over. He couldn't deny his unshakable belief that Kirk was still out there, somehow cheating death again. Hadn't they thought him lost him inside that Tholian contraption? And when the Romulans had taken him prisoner on their ship? And when the Klingons had sentenced him to Rura Penthe? But Scotty had been there, looking out into space from the gaping hole the plasma discharge had ripped in the secondary hull of the Enterprise-B. It had left a hole in him, too. It was one he grew weary of trying to cover. And there was no Carolyn or Mira or Nyota to fill it. "Aye," he muttered to himself, following the crewman assigned to escort him to the Main Officer's Lounge. The good captain Seiben had invited him to stay for dinner. Someone said the exec could lay hold on a cache of scotch. Scotch and good stories and eager faces did fill the void. He smiled again. How could he disappoint?