EXT. SPACE – STARBASE 104
The Enterprise has returned to Starbase 104, where they have rendezvoused with three Saladin-class destroyers sent to clean up the mess left by the Klingons.
INT. ENTERPRISE/TRANSPORTER ROOM
Kirk, Quloob, and two of Quloob’s subordinates step inside the transporter room. Acknowledging Kyle’s presence at the controls, they cross over to the pad.
CAPT. QULOOB: (cont’d) … will be upgraded, equipped with new top-of-the-line shields and defenses so something like this doesn’t happen again. Until that time, Starbase 104 is officially decommissioned.
KIRK: An eight-month paid vacation sounds good right about now.
CAPT. QULOOB: Longer than that, perhaps. (beat) Someone up there has apparently found fault with my administration. I’m on indefinite suspension pending review.
KIRK: (frowns) There’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent this atrocity.
CAPT. QULOOB: It’s instinctual, Captain; the undying need to assign blame. Starfleet Command has no legal grounds to take the Klingons to task for what they’ve done here, so I’ve been designated the de facto scapegoat.
KIRK: If anyone should shoulder the guilt, it’s whoever sanctioned this ignorant, ill-thought-out endeavour.
CAPT. QULOOB: Our races have come a long way in three-million years of evolution, but we still have a long way to go before we finally learn to stop passing the buck along.
Quloob and his men climb atop the transporter pad.
CAPT. QULOOB: Oh, and Captain?
KIRK: Yes?
CAPT. QULOOB: I have it on good authority that you’re looking for a qualified yeoman ….
ENTERPRISE/KIRK’S CABIN
Some time has passed. Kirk now sits at his desk, hopelessly going over the files on his computer console.
The door BUZZES.
KIRK: Come.
The door slides open. There on the other side stands Janice Rand.
KIRK: Hello.
RAND: Hello. (steps inside) I’m here to help with your files?
KIRK: Right over here.
Rising from his chair, he gestures to the console. Striding up to the desk, she takes a gander at the screen then at the captain. Stepping aside, he allows her to take a seat behind his desk. Sinking into the chair, she looks at the displayed information.
RAND: (shocked) Oh! That’s not right!
KIRK: Can you get me out of the hole I’ve dug, or will you have to start all over?
The yeoman doesn’t respond. She’s already hard at work re-configuring the data.
KIRK: I’m sure you’ll do fine, Yeoman. (takes a step away from the desk, then halts) Lt. Uhura on the bridge will know how to reach me, if you have any questions.
RAND: Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.
Kirk leaves Rand to her business.
INT. ENTERPRISE/SICKBAY
Kirk and Piper stand at the foot of Mitchell’s bed. Though still very weak, the major has regained consciousness.
PIPER: The wound is healing quite nicely. He should be able to resume active duty within another full week. (smiles) I’d say the prognosis looks good.
KIRK: Thank you, Doctor. (beat) May we be alone for a moment?
PIPER: Certainly.
Dr. Piper makes his departure.
MITCHELL: So, the folks around these parts have been telling me you blew up a star system.
KIRK: (half-smiles) Thirty-four photon torpedoes reacting with a planet’s worth of nithium will have that result, yes.
MITCHELL: (sighs) I’m just sorry to have missed out on all the action.
KIRK: I’ll tell you what – next time we need a system destroyed, I’ll let you fire the torpedoes off yourself.
MITCHELL: Promises, promises ….
INT. ENTERPRISE/RECREATION DECK
Kirk now sits alone at a table, playing a game of three-dimensional chess against himself. Deep in concentration, he doesn’t make an effort to acknowledge S’Pock’s presence as the half-Vulcan enters the room and walks up to him.
S’POCK: Would the captain oblige me with the answer to a question?
KIRK: (turns to S’Pock) Certainly, Mr. S’Pock. I mustn’t put leisure above a consultation with my science officer.
S’POCK: I need only a moment. It is not my intention to take you from you pleasure.
KIRK: Ask away, Mr. S’Pock.
S’POCK: Regarding white to checkmate in three ….
KIRK: I apologize for barging in on your problem.
S’POCK: (cocks an eyebrow) Then … white cannot checkmate in three moves?
KIRK: Yes, it can. Did you think I was making a joke?
S’POCK: One can never be certain when a Human is making a joke.
KIRK: Usually we laugh.
S’POCK: Not invariably.
KIRK: No. Not invariably. Still, I wasn’t making a joke.
S’POCK: If the captain will indulge me … your comment has piqued my curiosity.
KIRK: In that case, of course I’ll play out the problem with you.
S’Pock takes a seat on the other side of the table from Kirk. Leaning forward, he rearranges the pieces on the board, perfectly recreating the game he was playing all those days before.
KIRK: Maj. S’Pock, I thought Vulcans experienced no emotions. Yet you confess to curiosity.
S’POCK: Curiosity is not an emotion, Captain, but the impetus in the search for knowledge that distinguishes sapient creatures. (beat) Your move, Captain.
Kirk moves his queen’s knight. S’Pock then regards the chessboard, staring at the positions as if he were calculating the effects of every possible move of every piece on the board. Reaching out, the half-Vulcan takes hold of his king and tips it.
S’POCK: I resign.
Kirk studies the science officer. The barest hint of a frown can be made out on the half-Vulcan’s features.
S’POCK: Your move risked your queen and your knights. It was … illogical.
KIRK: But effective.
S’POCK: Indeed. (beat) What method of calculation did you use? Sinhawk, perhaps? Or a method of your own devising?
KIRK: One of my own devising, you might say. I didn’t calculate it, S’Pock. I saw it. Call it intuition, if you like, or good luck.
S’POCK: I do not believe in luck, and I have no experience of … intuition.
KIRK: Nevertheless, that’s my method of calculation.
S’Pock clears the board.
S’POCK: Would you care for a complete game?
The captain nods his assent.
EXT. SPACE
Somewhere out in the void between systems, there is a bright flash of violet light as a subspace portal is torn open, spewing a K’t’inga-class battle cruiser out into normal space. It is the Klothos – heavily damaged, powerless, but remarkably intact.
INT. KLOTHOS/BRIDGE
The bridge is in chaos. Several consoles spark and burn, cloying smoke fills the air, and most of the bridge crew float about in the now-zero gravity environment, dead or injured.
Kor, one of the few Klingons who escaped serious injury, is seated in his command chair, hands gripped around the chair tightly to keep himself from floating off.
KOR: You owe me a blood debt for this humiliation, Kirk, and I will collect … when circumstances are more propitious for me. (beat) We Klingons have a saying, “BortaS blr jablu’DI reH QaQqu’nay.” In your clumsy Human idiom, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
EXT. SPACE
Carried forward on its own momentum, no friction in space to slow its course, the Klothos tumbles end-over-end towards an uncertain fate.
FADE OUT
END CREDITS