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Hath Not an Android Eyes?

By Karin from a story by Sharon

It was one of those lazy afternoons aboard the USS Enterprise when Lieutenant Worf thought he would fall asleep at his post. Nothing was happening except the usual business and no one had need of a photon torpedo, a bloody nose, or even a growl. Ho hum. Commander Riker didn't look so thrilled, either, which was one thing they had in common. Of course charting star systems and analyzing cosmic phenomena were noble pursuits for Starfleet; but a good hearty brawl was always the thing to get the blood flowing.

Captain Picard was in his office. He could do that when things were slow.

Worf's panel began to flash. He announced to Riker, almost eagerly, that they were receiving a distress signal from a nearby planet: Exo III.

"Captain to the bridge—" Riker began, but the ready room doors swished open and Captain Picard strode out, so quickly Worf thought he must have been listening in. Seemed the captain didn't enjoy lazy afternoons either.

"On screen, Lieutenant," Picard ordered, turning to face it. Riker stood at his right, chin raised.

Worf popped up the image.

Two harried people — a bronze-skinned man and a pale woman — peered anxiously at the bridge crew.

"Please, we're Federation scientists and we're in grave danger," the woman said. "You must get us out of here!" Small explosions could be heard in the background and the people winced and looked quickly behind. "No!" the woman yelled. "Radclif, get out of the way! Stop!"

"Commander Data, how many are there at the base?"

"I am detecting six lifesigns, but Captain, there is something unusual about one—"

"We'll deal with that later. Transporter Room Three, I want all of them beamed out immediately. Bridge to Dr. Crusher, we need a medical team to Transporter Room Three." Picard nodded to Worf and Data. Then to Riker: "Commander, you have the bridge."

Worf handed off his post and happily accompanied his superiors to the turbolift.

The visitors had already materialized on the pad when the three officers and Crusher's team arrived. Five blue-coated scientists in varying degrees of untidiness (but no apparent injuries) and one green jumpsuited figure who looked ready to go at the scientists again.

"Worf," Picard said, seeing the intent.

The Klingon trained his phaser on the young man. "Hold it."

The young man stared at Worf, the color draining from his face. His eyes darted to the captain then back to Worf. He stepped off the pad, shakily, and Dr. Crusher had to grab his arm.

"Be careful!" one of the scientists cried, the same pale woman. "He's—"

"Captain," Data interrupted, turning wide yellow eyes his way. "I believe that man is James T. Kirk.

The conference room was filled by the five scientists, one now-sullen young Kirk, and the senior staff. The woman, Alita Angelos, who was also the head scientist, explained to the captain and the others how her team had found an abandoned base on Exo III and with it the technology to create an android.

"So," she said, avoiding the captain's eyes for a moment, "we used the last pattern we found in the system. And here is our result." She looked at Kirk, who sat tracing circular patterns on the table top with his finger.

"I'm familiar with the incident that involved Captain Kirk. But I must admit I'm quite shocked, Dr. Angelos," Picard said, looking a little angry as well. "This is something that should have been reported to Starfleet before you went ahead. What you've done here—"

"What we've done," Angelos interrupted, ignoring the captain's tight expression, "is accomplish something only Dr. Soong has been able to do." Her bright eyes shot to Data. "But even more, our Kirk has emotions."

"We noticed," Riker said. "I gather that was what the distress call was about."

Angelos leaned back, looking somewhat chagrined. "Kirk has had some... difficulties... adjusting to the situation. He often throws temper tantrums. I'm afraid one unalert member of my team—" A glance at a young man, who flushed, "—allowed Kirk to gain access to the weapons locker. Fortunately the five of us were able to out-think our creation."

"Right," Kirk muttered, finally looking up, undisguised disdain on his handsome face. "If it weren't for them—" He motioned to the Enterprise officers with his chin, "—you'd all be getting acquainted in a broom closet!" He sat back and muttered under his breath, "And I'd be free."

Data and Troi looked somewhat surprised at this last statement. Troi leaned toward Kirk, who'd returned to air doodling on the table.

"How have the scientists been treating you?"

Angelos made a psht gesture. "Counselor, I do assure you—"

"I'd like to hear it from Kirk," Troi said lightly, but her dark eyes were stern.

Kirk looked at the scientists, subjecting them to such close individual scrutiny that even Angelos could not hold the gimlet stare. He then turned those eyes to Captain Picard. "I won't go back," he stated.

And no one at that table doubted it.

It took a lot of argument to get Kirk down to engineering so La Forge and Data could take a look at him. Perhaps not surprisingly, it was Lieutenant Commander Data who managed to convince the young captain that they only wanted to run a quick scan, that was all. He talked off Kirk's ear about how much they had in common, and yet how diverse they were in technique of creation and appearance (et cetera, et cetera) that Kirk agreed just to shut him up.

He sat without fidgeting as the blind chief engineer ran a tricorder up and down his body. Alita Angelos hovered nearby like a mother hawk above her offspring.

Kirk took the opportunity to look around the room, marveled secretly at the differences between this Enterprise's engineering section and the one he remembered on the original ship. Walking through this luxury-liner model, he'd felt like a child in a toy shop with unlimited credits. He envied Picard. He wished he could see the bridge.

The hum of the tricorder grated on his nerves. Or wiring. Whatever.

"I'm detecting some anomalies," Geordi said, the instrument pointed at Kirk's head. "Unexplainable. Data, take a look at this."

Kirk did not envy the lieutenant commander's name. Hell, he'd shoot himself in the foot if someone had named him RAM or Chip or, heaven forbid, Isolinear. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

"Intriguing. His readouts are not at all like my own. I am equally puzzled, Geordi."

"Great," Kirk said. "Now that we have a consensus, can I go now? Picard wanted me to talk to Counselor Troi." That was something he wanted to do.

"Manners, James," Angelos said. Kirk ignored her, as usual, and looked impatiently at the officers. "You see," Angelos continued, evidently enthused at the response, "even subtle personality traits have been transmitted to the model. I dare say he has the real Kirk's emotional responses down to a tee, the way they were psychologically imprinted all those years ago." She shook her head, stepping back a bit to admire her handiwork. "Amazing."

"Quite fascinating," Data agreed. "Doctor, I wonder if I could discuss with you—"

"I'm leaving," Kirk said, hopping off the stool. "You can all carry on with your technobabble convention. I have better things to do."

He left before anyone could stop him.

She was quite a beauty and easily convinced Kirk that they should have had counselors on the original Enterprise. She was a hell of a lot better to look at than Bones, that was sure.

He sat as comfortable as he could on the couch beside her, smiling and thinking how the blue of the uniform brought out her complexion quite nicely. She'd said she was a Betazoid and an empath, so it was no surprise when she gave him an amused glance. His emotions right now were probably real easy to pick up.

"It must have been a strain to live with the five scientists and no one else," she said.

He laughed. "You've seen Angelos. She's a harridan." Troi raised her eyebrows. "Some of the others aren't bad, but they all take her orders. Which means getting close to the subject is out of the question."

"She treats you like a test subject."

The laughter left him. "That's what I am."

She tilted her head a little. "Is that what you think?"

Her eyes seemed to bore into his soul. Except he knew he had none.

But everything felt so damn real.

"All I know," he said quietly, looking off into a corner, "is it hurts." He hadn't thought he would confess these things so easily. Maybe it was the counselor's beauty. Or the fact she'd been the first one to ask him what he thought. He turned back to her, half-expecting to see pity in her eyes, but instead saw concern.

"What do you want to happen?" she asked. "Now that you're off the planet?"

He grinned at her suddenly, not able to resist. "How 'bout a date?"

She blinked, then returned the smile and shook her head. "You—" Then stopped herself.

"What?"

Her eyes shifted away, as if looking at something not there, then came back to his. "You remind me an awful lot of Commander Riker. In his younger years."

Kirk recalled the tall bearded man with the striking blue eyes. The way she spoke, it was obvious the memory was fond. He raised an eyebrow at her, smiling slyly. "That's good, I take it."

Now she laughed, reached over and held his hand briefly. "Yes, that's good."

His skin tingled, artificial or not, at her touch. The intimate gesture was more than he'd received all the time he was down on that planet. It made him realize what he'd probably never have, if Angelos had her way.

The counselor must have sensed the change in him. Her eyes grew sober. "What are you thinking?"

"That Data," he began, then paused. "How — I mean, who owns him?"

"No one."

He frowned. "But doesn't he have, you know, someone like Angelos? Someone who studies him?"

She gave him a straight stare. "Lieutenant Commander Data is a free citizen of the Federation."

The thought shocked him. And filled him with sudden hope.

But that came crashing down. Angelos would never give him freedom. Her pride in him (and her claws) sank deeper than a Louisiana swamp. She'd want to parade him in front of her colleagues at some tedious science symposium, equating herself with the late Dr. Soong. Except, she'd say, I didn't let my android get away and warp his template.

"Kirk," Counselor Troi said.

He rose, shaking his head, denying everything.

"I think I want to go to my quarters. I need — I need to be alone."

She stood, concern apparent on her face. "Of course."

He hurried out, afraid he would suffocate. The walls seemed to close in on him. The corridors, so bright and spacious before, now seemed as confining as the base on Exo III. Nowhere was freedom, not as long as Angelos was near. And he couldn't live like that, couldn't live with that limited human contact. He may be plastic, but everything he wanted, everything he needed was no different than any human being. He wanted to be touched, wanted someone to laugh with, wanted a life that wasn't someone else's.

Picard, at least, had given him his own quarters. He sat at the table and swung the desk comp toward him.

"Computer, search files for one Dr. Leonard McCoy, probably retired."

Bones knew him. Bones must remember him. If Bones wasn't dead by now.

"Accessing," the computer said. Then an image popped on-screen. "Dr. Leonard McCoy, former Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise 1701..." It rattled off other credentials, his positions after the Enterprise, and his current residence.

Georgia. On Earth.

Bones. Kirk's only friend.

He looked up others of his crew (Kirk's crew, not his) for interest's sake, and was surprised to find Spock still alive. He hadn't gotten to know the Vulcan that well in the short time he was in command (that Kirk was in command) but he wasn't all that interested. Vulcans were... too frustrating with their damnable logic. He had no patience for them.

It was Bones he thought about as he walked casually down the corridor toward the turbolift. Hardly anyone was out at this hour, close to ship's midnight. He thought wistfully of all the times he'd shared a glass of Saurian brandy with the doctor — the best damn medicine a sick person could get, especially a sick-at-heart person, like how he felt now.

No one accompanied him on the lift. "Engineering," he told it.

As expected, only a skeleton crew remained for this shift. Luck must have been on his side because the station he wanted had only one man there, and none in immediate sight.

Kirk tapped the man on the shoulder then slugged him in the jaw before he'd turned all the way around. He went out like a light and Kirk lowered him carefully to the floor.

The nice engineer had also kept the work station activated for Kirk's benefit. No need to input codes he didn't know.

"Computer, deactivate tractor beam capabilities."

"Tractor beam capabilities cannot be deactivated without the proper authorization code."

Double security. Like the weapons. He should have known.

"Computer, run a level-one diagnostic on the shuttle tractor beam and the tractor beam emitter."

"Commencing," it answered, and Kirk smiled. "Estimated time for completion: one hour, twenty-one minutes."

Not much time. He only hoped no one noticed the unconscious engineer.

"Sir," the ensign at ops said. "Someone is running an unscheduled diagnostic on the tractor beams."

Data's chin lifted. "Bridge to engineering."

"Engineering here."

"Lieutenant Maeter, have you authorized a diagnostic on the tractor beams?"

"What? No, sir — wait — Sterling! Sir, someone's knocked out Sterling!"

"Bridge to Captain Picard and Commander Riker," Data began.

A voice said, from above and behind him, "Sir, the El-Baz has just left the shuttle bay."

Data did not need to ask if it was unscheduled. He stood. "Hail it."

A pause. The ensign at Worf's station said, predictably, "No answer."

"Ensign, wake Dr. Angelos." Maybe she could talk to Kirk. As Data supposed it was Kirk who had stolen the shuttle. "Computer, locate the android James Kirk."

"The android James Kirk is not aboard the Enterprise."

Another non-surprise. In short order the captain, commander and scientist arrived on the bridge. Data briefed them and the captain did not try very hard to disguise his irritation. It was quite late. Picard didn't look once at Angelos.

"Ensign, open a line to the shuttle."

"Channel open, sir."

"This is Captain Picard," he said in a voice that meant business. "What do you think you're doing, Kirk?"

"I've stolen one of your shuttles, Picard. Tell the Klingon he needs to beef up his security."

It was a good thing Worf wasn't on the bridge. Oops, Captain, my hand slipped. I will pay for the torpedo.

"Bring that shuttle back, Kirk!" Angelos demanded, sounding painfully like a parent. "You have no right to steal Starfleet's property."

"I have no rights at all, Doctor. And since I seem to be Starfleet's property, what can you possibly do to punish me?"

If there was a visual, they would be looking at a very smug Kirk.

"Ensign," Picard said, in a quieter tone, "Lock on tractor beam and pull him in."

"Sir, the computer is currently running a level-one diagnostic—"

"Then disengage it!"

Data moved to one of the science stations but the ensign at security said again, "Sir, there's a Klingon bird of prey on an intercept course with the shuttle."

And before anyone could do or say anything, the El-Baz began to fire on the bird of prey as soon as it was in range.

"What the hell's he doing?" Riker asked in disbelief.

But to Kirk, Klingons were enemies. And the bird of prey, caught off guard and unshielded, rocked at the blasts. Almost negligently, they fired back.

"No!" Angelos cried.

The El-Baz exploded.

The bridge crew stood in stunned silence for a heartbeat.

"Sir," the ensign said. "The Klingons are hailing us."

"Idiots!" Angelos shouted.

"Doctor!" Picard snapped. "Commander Data, please escort the doctor back to her quarters." He would have preferred the brig, but that was overkill and unwarranted. He turned to face the viewscreen.

He had a lot of explaining to do.

The bird of prey had offered the perfect opportunity. He knew if he provoked the Klingons they would shoot first and ask questions later. That hadn't changed in those years he'd been out of it. Then all he had to do was beam back to the Enterprise (since they weren't alarmist and kept their shields down) and hide out while they thought he was dead.

Because he'd also programmed a delayed energy surge in the shuttle bay that would mask his beam in to the control room. The Academy engineering class had come in handy after all, even though it was out of date. Of course, the available schematics in the control room had helped. Starship computers were so helpful.

He'd stolen the uniform of the lieutenant that had been on duty in the control room before he'd taken the shuttle, so everyone would think it exploded with him. Luckily the lieutenant was still knocked out when Kirk beamed back in, dressed in the uniform (communicator and all). Now as long as he kept his head down, no one would be the wiser.

Counselor Deanna Troi was on her way to the bridge, in a hurry, because the news of Kirk's actions and its consequences alarmed her. Not because he was dead.

But because he was not.

She still felt him there, as strong as... well... Will Riker's presence. Kirk may have been an android but she had no doubt his emotions were real, real as anything she'd ever experienced. With the same nuances and complexities as any other sentient being. She definitely felt his loneliness, his almost desperate need for real companionship, to feel accepted and... loved.

She was so focused on him that the moment she spotted a gold-uniformed figure turning a corner ahead of her, she knew it was him. Even though she'd just caught a glimpse of dark blond hair.

Deanna caught up. "James!"

He swung, surprise and dismay chasing each other across his features.

She hesitated, reading something unpredictable in him, some wild emotion, when he suddenly rushed her and swung her around, an arm across her chest, pinning her arms. She felt a phaser press against her neck.

"I'm sorry," he said. "There's no other way."

A passing crewman saw them and immediately slapped his communicator. Kirk backed against the wall. Deanna dared not to fight. She sensed his desperation and had no doubt he would do what he felt was necessary to ensure... what he wanted. His anxiety rose when Worf, Riker, Data, the captain and Angelos came rushing down the corridor, trailed by two security men and the five scientists. His grip on her tightened.

"Stop right there!"

Bodies halted. Phasers pointed. Deanna caught Riker's eyes and tried to tell him silently not to provoke the android.

"Kirk—" Angelos began.

"Shut up!" he shouted. "Just shut up!" Fear/hate/regret pulsed from him. "I'm sick of doing what you want. I'm sick of being your test subject. Now you listen to me."

Picard held up placating hands. "Please, Kirk, nothing will be gained by this. Let the counselor go and we'll discuss this rationally."

"Why should I trust you?" Kirk said bluntly. "You're no different than them." He jerked his chin at the horrified scientists.

"That's not true," Deanna broke in. "Captain Picard was the one who helped Data gain his freedom, to be acknowledged as a sentient being with rights the same as any individual."

She felt his doubt, the rising hope when he looked at the captain. Then it shut down immediately, as if he feared to believe in anything.

"The counselor is correct," Data said.

"So what?" Kirk snapped. "I'm different. I've got the memories of a real person. They'll never give me freedom; they'll never see me as more than a copy, an imitation of the real thing. I would offend everyone's sensibilities if I were given the opportunities as everyone else. Because I really did live, once."

Deanna knew it hurt him to admit that, the fact that what he wasn't had experienced a life he felt he deserved. And would never have.

"What do you want?" Deanna asked, quietly and carefully. "Tell us what you want."

His body stiffened, then he thrust Deanna away. She swung, saw him look at them with pained eyes, though his face was composed. Too composed.

"Freedom," he said softly. "Is that too much to ask?"

"It's impossible!" Angelos scoffed. "We aren't nearly finished with our tests. And you're evidently unstable! We can't have you running around—"

"Wait-" Deanna cried, a split second too late.

As Kirk suddenly launched at Angelos, hollering like a wildcat, and threw her to the floor.

"Bitch!" Kirk rasped, raising a fist.

But Data and Worf each grabbed an arm and pulled him off, Kirk struggling insanely.

"Let me go! You have no right — I'm human — dammit, I'm human..."

The sorrow Deanna felt from him nearly made her knees buckle. Kirk suddenly collapsed in Data's arms, head rolling back to stare unseeing at the ceiling, the tears not yet dried in his eyes.

She was shocked to see the android cry.

"It's analogous to a nervous breakdown that humans suffer after psychological shock. Unlike humans, his brain matrix is a mystery to me. I don't know what I can do for him." Crusher looked at La Forge and Data for silent confirmation. "It's something like the cascade failure Lal suffered when she couldn't handle the sensory input."

La Forge nodded to Captain Picard. "From what we can see, his neural net just decided to shut down before anything went past the point of no return, as Lal's did when she began to break down. He stopped before the cascade could begin. The problem is, we don't know how to get him out of it."

Picard looked at a very distressed Angelos. "Can you do anything for him?" "This is unprecedented," she replied. "He seems to be in some kind of loop, an alternate program that was there in case something happened that he couldn't deal with. I might be able to disable the loop, but I don't know what that will do to him psychologically. He might proceed down his present course and suffer this 'cascade failure.'" She sighed heavily. "I think it would be safest if we let him handle this alone and come out of it on his own."

"And what if he doesn't come out of it?" Troi asked.

Angelos regarded the counselor with bleak eyes. "Then we'll have to deactivate him. Permanently. And try to salvage what we can."

Data's face did not show emotion, but he looked at the scientist with very wide, very level amber eyes. Geordi put a hand on his shoulder.

"I find that to be a controversial decision at best," Picard stated. "You can't simply 'put him down' because he's catatonic."

Angelos regarded the captain with a familiar expression. He'd seen it on Maddox.

"Captain, despite the little display earlier, this—" she gestured to the body of Kirk, "—is an android. A machine. His emotions are mere copies, imprints, of the original Kirk's. There is nothing human about it."

"How can you say that?" Troi demanded. "I can sense him as well as I can sense you. He suffers, Doctor."

"It is a semblance, don't you see? It's like... mimicry. He is only reacting how his template has primed him to react."

"And what is the difference in humans?" Data asked. "Are not human memory and emotions imprinted on your brains in electrical signatures? Your matter may be organic but the procedure is the same. You react like how you are primed to react from countless memories and emotions you have experienced in your life."

"Commander," Angelos said, suppressing an amused smile. "The human brain is also akin to this starship's computer, but you would not grant that the ship's computer is sentient."

"The ship's computer has no emotions," Troi said.

"And we are back to the original argument! Captain, I must protest. I created this android and I have the right to try and salvage what I can from him to further my research."

"I'm afraid I cannot allow that," Picard said.

"This isn't up to you!"

"Doctor," Picard said patiently. "Commander Data is recognized under Federation law to be a sentient individual with the basic rights given to all Federation citizens. This Kirk is no different. They are both androids and I see no reason why Federation law would not apply to him as well."

"Unlike Commander Data," Angelos snapped, her voice condescending, "this Kirk is a copy of a man that actually existed and even goes by his name. The Federation cannot allow another James T. Kirk to run around the galaxy with the original James T. Kirk's ideas, thoughts, memories and ambitions."

"But he doesn't have the original Kirk's thoughts, not anymore." Picard took a deep breath. "This Kirk has already developed personality traits and experienced things the original Kirk has never had. As this Kirk grows he will develop and gain different experiences than the other Kirk. It has begun already. This Kirk will most likely develop into an entirely different individual, despite how he looks."

Alita Angelos, for once, had nothing to say.

Despite his anticipation and excitement, he took his time as he walked down the street. The past month had been a rough one, much of it spent recuperating from his... neural halt... at the Daystrom Institute. They had been kind, excited about him, in fact, but they treated him like — a human. Kirk figured Lieutenant Commander Data had a lot to do with that. And Captain Picard.

He had come out of the "catatonia" on his own, when his system kicked in and decided just to dump all the offending input, which contained the emotional overload of the last few minutes before he'd shut down. So there was a blank spot in his head which he would have liked to remember, if only to recall the way he pounced on Dr. Angelos.

The doctors at Daystrom said the reaction was very similar to a human one, when their emotional input became too much.

To-may-to, to-mah-to.

Now, however, was the final test. Even though the scientists at Daystrom had not talked about him when he was in the same room, had not looked past him when he spoke to them, that did not quell his fears of how the everyday person would react to him. Not scientists, but Kirk's friends, relatives, colleagues who'd known the original. How would they react to this — counterfeit Kirk?

Which he was, he knew, no matter what Deanna Troi or anyone else said. Dr. Angelos had told him otherwise too many times for him to easily believe anything else.

So he walked up to the sunlit porch and knocked on the old-fashioned, white-painted wooden door, glancing idly at the hedge of pink roses below him, the pale blue and white cushioned swing at the end of the long porch. It looked like a place well-loved.

The door swung open with a slight squeak and Kirk met the face of an old friend.

Bones seemed a little too close to the truth to be funny, now. The computer image had not shown how old McCoy had become, and the sight of the ancient man made Kirk's smile falter. But he told himself this man was well beyond his prime, so what did he expect? It was a wonder Leonard McCoy was still alive.

But he'd always been a stubborn old goat.

So Kirk's smile lifted again, only to deflate just as quickly when he noticed the expression on the other's face.

He had no desire to send his old friend to the grave. But McCoy was staring at him like he was about to fall dead any moment.

The old retired doctor reached out a hand and poked Kirk's shoulder, as if to decide if he were tangible.

"Bones," Kirk said, on impulse. "It's me. Jim Kirk!"

McCoy shook his head. "How is this possible? Who put you up to this? I tell you, you'd better take off the disguise before I blast you!" He yanked his one hand from behind the door, revealing an ornately-carved wooden cane.

"Bones!" Kirk exclaimed. "It's no trick, I swear. It's me, Jim."

McCoy squinted at him. Then, surprisingly, he opened the door wider. "All right, come on in," he grumbled, as if allowing a persistent salesperson a minute of his time.

Kirk stepped into the house and looked admiringly at its airiness. Open bay windows, French doors and country wood furniture.

"The place is beautiful. So you really are a humble country doctor, aren't you?"

McCoy looked sharply back at him as he made his way slowly to a seat in the living room. Kirk sat opposite him on the couch.

"All right," McCoy said, settling into the chair. "What space-time anomaly sent you back here, and why would you bother me now in my golden years?"

Kirk blinked. "There's no anomaly."

"Then who the hell are you?"

The familiar pain, something he hadn't even known he'd been carrying until he'd gotten away from Angelos, began to creep back into him. He looked down at his hands.

"I—I'm an android. Made from the facilities at Exo Three." When he glanced up McCoy was staring at him with that same stricken look that had greeted him at the door.

"But I thought that system was shut down!"

"A group of Federation scientists came upon it and reactivated it. Mine — the original Kirk's template was the last one in the system so they used it."

McCoy swore. "Damn egghead scientists! They had no right!" The old, surprisingly shrewd eyes bore into Kirk's. "So what's your story, eh? You been dallying around the galaxy living off of Jim's reputation?"

"No!" He leapt to his feet. "I'm not like that. I'm Jim Kirk but I'm — I'm me. I would never do that. I couldn't."

McCoy looked up at him appraisingly. "No, I don't figure you would. Sit down, boy, no one's going to hurt you here." He chuckled. "You're just as hot-blooded as Jim was, I dare say."

Kirk's heart lifted. He sat back. "So," the old doctor continued, "what're you doing here, bothering me? I'd think you'd want to jetset around the stars."

Kirk shook his head. "I wanted to see you. We were friends..."

"Uh uh." McCoy shook his head, and said gently, "We were never friends."

"Look, I remember—"

"We—" McCoy waved a finger from himself to Kirk, "—were never friends. I wasn't there when they activated you, which is really your birth, you know. You never completed the five-year mission with the Enterprise crew, or lived through Spock's death and his rebirth, or Sulu's captaincy, or the Klingon-Federation treaty."

Kirk stared at the old man. The sunny room seemed to mock him.

Perhaps the doctor noticed his expression. He reached out a wrinkled hand and touched Kirk's arm.

"Son, I've lived my life with James Kirk. My memories of him are here—" He tapped his head. "—not here." He tapped Kirk's lightly. "And what memories James Kirk had of me and his life died with him. I'm not trying to be cruel, son. But your future doesn't lie with me and some vague recollections that barely have anything to do with your situation now." He sat back again, breathed out with a little effort. "Besides, I'm too damn old to go gallivanting around the galaxy with the likes of you again."

Despite the blunt words, Kirk smiled at the last comment.

Bones was still Bones. Good for brandy and advice. He didn't care for the brandy now, but the advice was welcomed. In fact, it was the first truly helpful thing anyone had ever said to him. No one had had answers about what he should do now with his freedom. He'd thought he knew, that somehow seeing his old friend would make everything all right. That this one connection to his past would galvanize him to do something about his future.

But this wasn't really his past. He saw that now, and it actually didn't hurt. McCoy's kind blue eyes watched him, knowing, perhaps, how the words affected him. He had been a close friend of James T. Kirk, after all — this kind old man, who'd lived a life Kirk could not fathom, and had no connection to.

"Thank you," he whispered.

When he locked eyes with McCoy, he was shocked to find tears there.

"Dammit, boy," McCoy said gruffly.

Which was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him.

He'd never seen a sunrise. There was a lot he'd never seen, and wanted to see. The Starfleet Academy campus was probably one of the best places to experience a first sunrise, and Kirk did, sitting outside on one of the benches, overlooking the San Francisco harbor. No one disturbed him this early in the morning. No one was awake. It felt like he was the only one alive on the entire planet, and the calm, red-tinted water seemed to welcome him. Certainly the flaming sun, peeking above the horizon, beckoned to him.

As if the entire galaxy waited.

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