The turbolift arrived at the tenth floor, and Kirk stepped out into a reception area. Another young officer immediately greeted him. “Captain Kirk,” she said, “I’m Ensign Teagarden, Admiral Sinclair-Alexander’s assistant. Let me take you back there.” She gestured vaguely off to her right.

“Thank you,” Kirk said, and he followed Teagarden through several corridors, past his own former office. Finally, she led him through an anteroom-no doubt the ensign’s own workspace-and into a large, comfortably appointed room. A sofa stood against the wall to the left, and a small conference table to the right. Artwork-mostly wooden carvings and masks, but also two paintings-hung on the walls and reflected the influences of Sinclair-Alexander’s Jamaican birthplace. Across the room, before a row of tall windows, the admiral sat at a desk of blond wood.

“Jim,” she said as she looked up from a data slate. She rose and came out from behind her desk to greet him, both hands extended. As the ensign left, Kirk moved to the center of the office, where he took Sinclair-Alexander’s hands in his own, offering a warm squeeze.

“Madge,” he said. “You’re looking well.” Tall and dignified, Sinclair-Alexander had beautiful coffee-colored skin, high cheekbones, dark eyes, and black shoulder-length hair. Though just a few years younger than Kirk, she had something of a timeless appearance that made it difficult to estimate her age simply by looking at her.

“Thank you so much for coming in,” she said. Her voice carried the hint of a Caribbean accent. “Can I get you anything? A little Saurian brandy perhaps?”

“Is your plan to ply me with liquor before you tell me why you’ve called me here?” Kirk said with a smile.

“Ah, you’re on to me,” she said. “Here, let’s sit.” She let go of his hands and motioned toward the sofa. They sat down, and she asked again if he wanted anything to drink. When he declined, she said, “So how is life outside of Starfleet? Something I need to try for myself?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kirk said. “You seem to be doing pretty well right where you are. In fact, I understand that congratulations are in order, Admiral Sinclair-Alexander.”

She smiled widely, exuding a radiance that bespoke her happiness. “We got married last year,” she said. “You’ll have to come over for dinner one night. Cynthia’s a wonderful cook.”

“So you’re spoiled then?” Kirk joked.

“Completely,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “No more food synthesizers for this old girl.”

“That’s reason enough to give up a starship command,” Kirk said with a chuckle.

“If I’d have still been on the Saratoga when Cynthia and I met,” Sinclair-Alexander said, “you can bet I would’ve jumped ship.”

The notion of abandoning a captaincy for the right person dredged up an all-too-familiar sadness within Kirk. If only I’d been able to, he thought, but he worked to keep the smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he told Sinclair-Alexander. “I’m happy for you, Madge.”

“Thank you, Jim,” she said. “So how are you enjoying your retirement? No regrets?”

“Oh, plenty of regrets,” Kirk said with a laugh. “Just none of them I can do anything about now.” When Sinclair-Alexander peered at him just a bit askance, as though she had detected a seriousness in his jest, he quickly continued. “Actually, I’m enjoying retirement. I’ve been able to do a lot of things I never had time for.”

“Like what?” Sinclair-Alexander asked.

Kirk shrugged. “I’ve caught up on my reading…. Done some horseback riding…. I dove the Alandros Caves…. I climbed- “

“The Alandros Caves?” Sinclair-Alexander asked, her eyes widening. “That’s a little more demanding than riding horses or reading.”

“And something Starfleet Command typically frowns on its captains doing on shore leave,” he said. “Which is why I’m finally getting to do it now.”

Sinclair-Alexander shook her head, on her face an expression that seemed to mix disbelief with appreciation. “Well, you’ll have to tell me about that and all your other adventures when you come to dinner,” she said. “Unfortunately, I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, so I need to talk to you about the reason I asked you here.”

He still fully expected the admiral to suggest that he return to Starfleet. “I’ve been afraid to ask,” Kirk said.

“Which is why you twice turned down Captain Strnod’s invitation to meet,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “I appreciate that you agreed to come when it was me who asked.”

“How could I refuse?” Kirk said with a lightness he did not entirely feel. “So what is it?”

“Jim, we’re launching a new Excelsior-class vessel next week, with a new captain and a young crew,” she said. “We’ll be sending it out on a mission of deep space exploration, and we’re calling it the Enterprise.”

Kirk felt a moment’s indignation at the prospect before a sense of pride rose within him. “I’m glad that the name’s being perpetuated.”

“I thought you might be,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “Because of the name, it’s been suggested that perhaps you would be willing to don your uniform one last time and be a guest of honor at the launch. You could christen the ship, perhaps even board it for a quick jaunt around the solar system.”

“Madge,” Kirk said. Though she hadn’t entreated him to return to the space service, he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of becoming involved again even on the level she had suggested.

“I know, I know,” Sinclair-Alexander said, holding her hands up in front of her as though surrendering to his reluctance. “If it were up to me, Jim, I wouldn’t even be asking. But you know as well as I do that Starfleet’s image suffered a great deal when some of our own conspired to kill Chancellor Gorkon and President Raghoratreii, to incite hostilities between us and the Klingons.” She shook her head as though in disbelief. Kirk understood. Much as he’d fostered an irrational hatred of the Klingons after the death of his son, even he hadn’t acted to foment war with the Empire. “It’s believed that Starfleet could really use the positive publicity it would bring to have you attend the launch of this new Enterprise. With your record, you’re well known not only here on Earth, but throughout the Federation.”

“That’s another reason I left Starfleet,” Kirk said. “Peace and quiet and anonymity.”

“I know this is an imposition,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “But I’m getting a lot of pressure to get you to sign on for this.” Kirk wondered who could possibly be applying that pressure. It didn’t sound like something Commander in Chief Smillie would do, and few other admirals would have the power to bully Sinclair-Alexander. “Frankly, I could handle the pressure,” she went on, “but for one thing: I think they’re right. I think this really would help the public’s view of Starfleet right now.”

“I don’t know,” Kirk said. He felt a natural inclination to acquiesce for Sinclair-Alexander, but he really didn’t want to do what she’d asked of him.

“If it helps,” she said, “I’ve already recruited two of your old crewmates to come along: Captain Scott and Commander Chekov.”

“You got Scotty to agree to attend?” Kirk said, surprised. “I thought he’d headed for the Norpin Colony. Is he coming all the way back to Earth?”

“No. He’s booked passage to Norpin, but he hasn’t departed yet,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “He’s consented to doing this first.”

Now Kirk shook his head. “I can’t believe neither one of them told me about this.” He hadn’t seen Scotty or Chekov in months, but they still could’ve contacted him to let him know.

“Don’t blame them for that,” Sinclair-Alexander said. “I swore them both to secrecy. Actually, in Commander Chekov’s case, since he’s still in Starfleet, I simply ordered him not to say anything. As for Mister Scott, I suggested that if he mentioned anything to you, then I might have to point the right authorities in the direction of his new boat, just to make sure that nobody had effected any illegal modifications to the engine.”