Ship of the Line - Diane Carey [75]
And among those here, only Picard knew how very long it had taken the Romulan Star Empire to recover from this hard slap.
“Captain,” Kirk said politely now. There wasn’t a hint of gloating in his manner. If anything, he seemed nearly apologetic.
But he did not apologize, and that was important. Did not even voice his regret that this had to happen.
Whether he actually regretted it—Picard couldn’t really tell.
“Standing by to beam your survivors on board our ship,” Kirk said. “Prepare to abandon your vessel.”
“He won’t,” Picard grumbled.
“No, it’s not our way.” Squeezed by the grip of pain, the Romulan’s body flinched, but his eyes did not. He surveyed Kirk with disclosed warmth. “I regret that we meet in this way. You and I are of a kind … In a different reality, I could’ve called you friend.”
With clear sorrow Kirk attempted to persuade the Romulan. “What purpose will it serve to die?”
“We are creatures of duty, Captain … I have lived my life by it. Just one more … duty to perform.”
The Romulan took one more look at the man he wished he could call friend, then pushed away from the viewer and stumbled across the smashed deck.
Jim Kirk took a breath to argue, perhaps order a tractor beam or an emergency beam-out, perhaps to talk his enemy out of a useless end.
Then he held back. He closed his lips. Precious seconds drained away as the injured Romulan on the screen staggered to a control panel, made a small adjustment, and twisted a partially jammed handle.
A flash of energy wash, a grimace of pain, the crackle of overload—and the screen faded back to the mindless void of open space. Stars twinkled in the distance, as if nothing had happened here at all.
At first Picard almost spoke up—transporters could snatch those survivors off that ship … useless sacrifice …
And then, in an instant, he knew better. As if he’d been delivered a message by intravenous injection, he completely absorbed the depth of James Kirk’s understanding of being a soldier. Anything Kirk might’ve said would have taken away that Romulan’s last shred of pride.
Despite what Kirk had just done, he gave his enemy that little bit of advantage, a chance to control his last moments. Kirk had let him lose his life, but keep his pride. This Romulan, who had murdered hundreds of Federation citizens, was being offered a civilized hand as a final gesture.
Strange—that hadn’t been the image of James Kirk which had filtered forward in time. The tender side had never been given much due in history.
But Kirk remained silent, choosing not to diminish his enemy’s last act.
“That was elegant of you,” Picard mentioned, thinking aloud. “We hear about the valor, nobility, fighting talent, your ability to map a space battle in your head and always know where your ship and the other ships are … we know about your deeds of strength and your tricks, but until I stood here and watched you, I never knew about your mercy. You could have saved his life—”
“And wrecked his dignity.” Kirk’s tone was clear sadness, as if indeed he had lost something, someone. He wasn’t proud of himself. He was genuinely sorrowful at what he had been forced to do.
Amazing, really. Had Kirk and that Romulan actually come to be some kind of friends in these tense hours while hunting each other through the empty tracts of space?
Could that happen?
Picard searched through his past to see if he’d ever had such an encounter, but couldn’t think of one.
“Thank you, Captain,” he said. “Thank you very much for this. I’ve seen things I never imagined. You don’t have all the answers at all, and somehow, I suppose like many others, I had let myself become convinced that you did. While I was a little confused before, I can say that, now, I’m completely confused. At least now … I know I’m in good company. Computer … end the program.”
Chapter 17
“Here is the plan. Bateson is coming to the Typhon Expanse with the new Enterprise for war games with a single Starfleet ship called the Nora Andrew. On both ships, shields and weapons will be reduced to bare minimum. That