Friday, Kirk thought. He’d gone to see Madge on a Friday, and the launch of the Enterprise-B had taken place the following Thursday. There would be five full days before then. Enough time to figure out the precise logistics of what I need to do and how to do it.
Walking along Lombard Street, Kirk felt conspicuous in his uniform. With Starfleet headquartered here in San Francisco, the sight of an officer dressed in official attire could hardly be considered out of the ordinary, but he still wished to invite as little scrutiny as possible. To that end, he casually unbuttoned his vest and removed it, leaving him in his black pants and long-sleeved white pullover.
Knowing that it would be a few minutes before his counterpart reached the tenth floor of the administration building and met with Admiral Sinclair-Alexander, Kirk headed for his apartment on Russian Hill. He would not stay long, just enough time to retrieve a couple of things he would be able to use over the next few days. When one of the historic cable cars wheeled past him in the street, he climbed aboard, hastening his journey.
Back at his apartment, Kirk’s hand and retina prints allowed him access. He entered and quickly moved through the small foyer and the living room, then into the den. He spared only a moment’s glance through the floor-to-ceiling windows that peered out on San Francisco Bay. Off to the left, toward the west, Kirk saw the great stanchions of the Golden Gate Bridge, their late-afternoon shadows falling onto the water.
Along the inner wall, Kirk activated the computer terminal. Calling up the personal calendar of his double, he confirmed today’s date, then verified the details of next week’s daytrip, all just as he remembered it. On Wednesday, the day before the Enterprise-B launch-which had yet to be listed in the schedule-the Kirk of this time planned to leave early for Wichita, Kansas, where he would perform a survey of his landing zone. He would then travel from there to Tunis, Tunisia, where he would commence preparations for his orbital skydive. When ready, he would transport up to a platform in orbit, which would at the proper time be over the Arabian Peninsula, and from which he would be sent hurtling down through the atmosphere.
Kirk recalled the experience, which had been exhilarating and more than a little daunting. The only detail that would change between now and then, he knew, would be that his counterpart would invite Scotty and Chekov to meet him at the landing zone, which they would scout together the morning of the jump. Later that evening, after he’d landed, the three old friends would have dinner in nearby Wichita. That’ll be the time to act, he told himself. With the Kirk of this time away for most of the day, Kirk himself could essentially assume his identity in order to accomplish what he needed to prior to the Enterprise-B launch and its deadly encounter with the energy ribbon.
After shutting down the terminal, he went into the bedroom and pulled out two changes of clothing, selecting articles at the bottom of the dresser drawers and hanging at the far side of the closet in the hopes that they would not be missed. He quickly changed into a pair of blue jeans and a light gray shirt. From the back of the closet, he picked out a small carryall that he knew the other version of himself would not be using that week, and he loaded his jacketless uniform and the other changes of clothes into it. He knew that he would need a complete Starfleet uniform on Wednesday, but rather than taking one of the three jackets from the closet right now, he decided to return here next week to get it.
Standing in the bedroom doorway, Kirk gazed around, wanting to ensure that he’d left everything the way he’d found it, save for the few items he would take with him. He then returned to the den to confirm that he’d deactivated the computer terminal. Finally, he left the apartment and rode a turbolift back down to the lobby.
Out on the street, he headed for the nearest public transporter. Until next Wednesday, he would need to hide himself away. Fortunately, he knew just the place to do that.
TWELVE
2293/2284
The old place didn’t have a retina scanner, but Kirk’s handprint opened the front door. He stepped into the living room, the air within stale and close. He had a caretaker, Joe Semple, who came out from Lost River a couple of times a year to open up the house and check for any problems that the weather or simple age might have caused, but Joe probably hadn’t been out here since the spring.
By the time Kirk had arrived here, dusk had fallen on the Idaho hills. In the fading light of the day, he reached to the wall inside the door and tapped the control pad there. The overhead panels came on, revealing a roomful of Halloween ghosts: the sofa, the easy chairs, the end tables, all mere shapes beneath the white sheets that covered them. The mantel above the fireplace sat bare, as did the shelves he’d built on either side of it, as did the walls themselves. Where once the sentimental trinkets of his life-and later, of Antonia’s-had enlivened this place, now only emptiness remained.
How appropriate, Kirk thought, struck by the lonely path his life had taken. Why did I leave the nexus? I could’ve fixed this. I could’ve fixed all of it.
But of course, he couldn’t have, not really. The nexus had been filled with joys, but imagined joys. What he had to do now, he had to do in the real universe.
Kirk closed the door behind him, then pulled the strap of the carryall from his shoulder and dropped the bag onto the floor. It landed with a soft thump, and he thought that he might just want to follow it down. Fatigue had washed over him, and he realized that he had no idea when last he’d slept.
Kirk decided to walk through the rest of the house. He ducked his head into the office he’d once set up off the living room, and which Antonia had then made her own once she’d moved in. Everything with which she had filled the room had gone now, leaving most of the space empty. Only the com/comm unit he’d had installed there now remained, draped like the rest of the furniture with a white sheet. Kirk padded over to it and gingerly gathered the covering from atop it, not wanting to stir up all the dust that had accumulated during the past months. After setting the balled sheet down on the floor, he tapped at the console’s controls. It blinked to life with a chirp, confirming that he would be able to use it to record the message he needed for next week, for the Enterprise-B launch. He deactivated it, then continued on through the rest of the house.
Moving through the kitchen, down the short hall, past the refresher, and into the bedroom, Kirk saw only more signs of disuse. At one time he had loved this place back when he’d spent a couple of summers here as a boy. It had been here that his uncle had taught him how to ride horses, and just being away from home had made those trips seem like adventures. In the years since the property had passed to him, though, he had neglected it. His long duty aboard the Enterprise had certainly prevented him from visiting more than occasionally, but even when he’d been stationed on Earth as chief of Starfleet Operations, he hadn’t come here much. Even during that first time he’d stepped away from the space service, when he’d actually come here to live, he hadn’t really taken care of the place until he’d met Antonia.