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Kirk took a deep breath. “Status, gentlemen?” he asked with frustration.

“Admiral,” Scotty replied. “It’s no use. We’ve got ta eject the antimatter pods within the next two minutes or the explosion will destroy the whole ship. Without computer control, you’ll have to manually detonate the explosive bolts. It’s five decks below.”

Kirk considered this. His strength was failing him as the effects of the radiation sapped the energy reserves from his body; he didn’t know if he could reach his target in the allotted time. But was such an effort really justified? The ship had been racked with horrific damage from the assaults of Khan, and now from the Klingons. She was now just a shell of a once mighty vessel, but she had served her purpose this day: David was alive and well. So why was Kirk still clinging to the past when he should be looking to the future?

“Chekov,” he said. “Beam me out of here.”

“Aye, Admiral,” the commander responded. “Prepare for transport.”

The reddish hue of the Klingon transporter effect enveloped his body, and he waited for his surroundings to morph into the less familiar environs of the Klingon transporter room. Several seconds passed. The process seemed to be taking far too much time.

Eventually the effect dissipated, but Kirk remained among the charred consoles of the Enterprise engine room. Still kneeling, he removed the communicator from his belt and brought it up to his face, hoping that the urgency in his voice might carry more effectively. “Chekov? What’s wrong?”

“Stand by, sir,” came the anxious response.

Frantic shuffling sounds streamed forth, which Kirk soon interpreted to be Scotty entering the Katai transporter room to assist Chekov. “Just as I thought,” the Scotsman said. “Admiral, the breach is causin’ too much gamma radiation leakage in your vicinity. It’s interferin’ wit the transporter beam. If ye can move toward the aft end of the deck, we might get a clearer signal.”

Kirk struggled to his feet and broke into a run alongside the lengthy horizontal intermix chamber that extended many meters back toward the rear of the ship. The muscles in his legs burned with exhaustion, and a wave of nausea flooded over him. His vision again began to leave him, and his balance soon followed, sending him toppling onto the deck. His breath came in quick gasps as he fought to remain conscious. “Scotty,” he gasped. “I think you’d better try again.”

The transporter beam enveloped him once again, but this time, the duration was much shorter and ended more abruptly. The cold steel of the engineering deck remained solidly beneath him.

“Ach!” Scotty shouted. “It’s these infernal Klingon transporters. The coils are overheatin’. We can try again in about forty-five seconds.”

Kirk fought the urge to close his eyes and succumb to beckoning sleep. “Thelin…estimated time until the core breaches?”

A pause. “About…thirty seconds, Jim.”

Kirk was able to do the math. “Raise your shields, Thelin.”

Clearly mortified, knowing that transport was not possible through raised deflector screens, the Andorian stammered his reply. “Sir, we…we can still try to beam you out before-”

“The explosion could destroy your ship, too!” Kirk shouted with a final burst of strength. “Now, raise the shields!”

Another pause, and Thelin’s reply came, sounding as if no words in his lifetime had ever been more painful. “Aye, sir.”

Kirk’s field of vision began to dissolve into thousands of twinkling points of light as he began to succumb to the effects of the radiation. And yet he was content. Alone, he and his lady would meet their final fate together-while his legacy would live on in his progeny.

“So here it is…the no-win scenario,” he mumbled with a smile. “How did I do?”

And consciousness left him for the last time.

In the instant before the transmission went dead, the speakers aboard the Katai roared with a fearsome din as a shock wave shattered the hull surrounding Kirk’s communicator, and a moment later a raging fireball consumed every