Free The Autobiography of James T. Kirk by David A. Goodman Page A

led to an unfortunate incident on the final day of that year during a full-dress parade.
    I’ve often wondered what it was that made me Finnegan’s target. I think it goes back to that first day, when he saw me standing at attention in my room, holding all my belongings. In that moment, I thought he was being nice to me, telling me to go to lunch. Because of that, because of my ingenuousness, he saw me as weak, as a target. Like many bullies, he enjoyed the power he had over me. I was there to do the work, and my seriousness somehow provoked him. Ironically, his lack of seriousness led to an unremarkable Starfleet career; I never ran into him again after the academy. *
    Suffice it to say, it relieved a lot of stress when he was finally gone (though it still took me a while before I would open a door or get into bed too quickly). But more important, I’d made it through my first year. Except for the demerits I’d received from Finnegan, I was near the top of my class, and I was determined to stay there.
    The only thing that suffered was my relationship with Ruth. She was still in her job in the records department, her life a little bit on hold. As my workload increased, I had the sense she was always waiting for me to spare some time for her, and I didn’t like the pressure. Ben Finney, now my best friend, encouraged me to not let her go. Ben had graduated, but as he predicted, was asked to stay on as an instructor in Advanced Computer Programming. He had married Naomi and moved into faculty quarters, and on our off days, they would seek Ruth and me out for dinners, drinks, and other socializing. I enjoyed these times, but I wondered whether Ben himself was getting restless waiting for a ship assignment. One day, Ruth and I were sitting at dinner with them at their home, and I asked him.
    “My career can survive my staying an instructor a little longer,” Ben said, turning to Naomi, who was smiling. “I want to see my son.”
    “Oh, that’s wonderful,” Ruth said. She gripped my hand under the table as she said it.
    “Good job,” I said, with a smile. I gently removed my hand from Ruth’s to shake Ben’s. Ruth got up and gave Naomi a hug.
    We talked at length that night about raising a family, where they wanted to live, how Ben’s career might still be flexible enough to make it possible. I did my best to be supportive, but something about the dinner made me angry. I tried not to show it, though I think Ruth could sense my distance. After a little while, she and I said our goodbyes to the Finneys, and I walked her home.
    “You didn’t seem happy for them,” she said.
    “No, I am,” I said. “It’s just … I don’t know if they’re being realistic.”
    “They’re grown-ups; they can make their own decisions.”
    “They’re making decisions that affect a child,” I said, somewhat harshly. “Starfleet makes demands that can get in the way of a family. Both my parents had to give up their careers.”
    “And you think that was wrong, that they gave up their careers for the people they loved?” She was asking more than one question, and though I had known this conversation was coming, I didn’t think it would come so soon.
    “It’s not wrong,” I said. “It’s just not for me.”
    We walked the rest of the way to Ruth’s apartment in silence. Ruth loved me, and she was trying to make it easy for me, give me what I wanted. We kissed goodnight, and it was the last time I saw her. I often look back with regret on how I treated her. I did love Ruth; she was in fact my first love, and I don’t know if I was being honest with myself about why I broke up with her. She was willing to commit to me, but for some reason I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, trust that. So I pushed her away.

    “Mr. Mitchell,” I said, “next time,
think
before you throw a punch.”
    “Sir, yes sir,” Mitchell said, with a smirk.
    He was lying on the floor; I was standing over him, having just thrown him with a judo move