Gari

       
        Records Log Entry: 4-7704.31H. DEMOTH project showing increased sabotage. Recruiting screening procedures have been intensified. Security maintaining unposted code one alert. Compute monitors on all sensitive areas. MOTHRA task force fully functional and in final training stages....
       
        The instructor was an old friend, Dory Campbell, the very same instructor that had drilled a much younger Kirk into shape many years ago. The two men had formed a bond then, and Dory had considered “Jimmy” to be his best pupil. The sparkle of excitement that had radiated from the young recruit had infected the whole class. This time, it was different. There was another star.
        “Hun.. hu.. hun.. hu..” the instructor grunted the count for the sit-ups and thirty sweating bodies followed his lead.
        Up, down, up, down, Kirk tried not to feel the aching muscles as he strained to keep pace. Sweat trickled down his temples, salty beads formed on his upper lip. His whole body felt damp and punished.
        Up, down, again, again, he concentrated on not concentrating, kept his fingers tightly knit behind his head, his elbows alternating forward left, right, left. The drill went on, and on to the instructor's staccato call. Groans in unison. Breath deep, in, out, up, down, left, right.
        “Take five.” The class collapsed back in unison, but only momentarily. Then they all struggled to their feet, aware of all the rules for exercise, of all the tricks to push themselves, but not to endanger themselves. Warm down they called it.
        Kirk stayed bent over, controlling his breathing, deep, slow. When his heart and breathing and returned to their normal pace he glanced around at the sprawling drill class, noted their youth, again. Hardly bothered by this. Good! Good shape, all of 'em. They would all be his when this was over.
        His attention was again drawn to one in particular, tall, muscular, a black haired Adonis who led the group, as Kirk had done in his younger days. It hurt a little to remember, to watch this man bask in the attention he had earned even as Kirk had done. It isn't good to dwell on the past.
        This new star had rankled Kirk from the very first day. His condition had been superb to begin with, and Kirk had felt his own age and the years at the helm more heavily as a result. In spite of his intentions over the past few months, his exercise had been necessarily catch as catch can, although it had been enough to keep up the appearance of a fit and trim officer, Kirk had realized at once how his condition had slipped.
        Should have had McCoy around to nag me. I guess I was used to being reminded. What good intentions I had.
        “How're you doin', Jimmy?” The instructor winked mischievously, smirking a bit for a moment. “You're in great shape ... considering.” The emphasis on the end was half tease, half serious.
        “Oh! I'm just fine!” Kirk wiped the sweat off his forehead and smirked back.
        “It'll come back to ya. Your already catching your breath easier - your keeping up with 'em all, too! Not bad, I'd say.”
        “Keeping up isn't good enough. Not if I'm to be Captain to this bunch,” he added sotto voice. His captaincy had not yet been revealed to his fellow sufferers. His long dark hair had been left uncut, non-regulation length, he sported earrings and a gold chain around his neck, civilian trademarks that he had never been known to wear before, and his name listed as Jim Smith. For his own protection, and for theirs.
        For now, he was just the “old man”, appearing as a bit of a rakish character, and therefore less intimidating to the younger recruits. He could get a clearer evaluation this way, of himself, and of them.
        He was left out of the normal speculating gossip about which ship, which girl, which captain would be in their future. All the normal new recruit chatter which was so important to the younger men, so did-I-do-that to the older “outsider”.
        Kirk now turned back to the recruit known as Gari that he still considered to be the Adonis of the class. There was something vaguely familiar about him. The feeling had been with Kirk since he entered the class, was it ten? No, twelve weeks ago. The tall, muscular Gari had been a presence Kirk had immediately been aware of, aware that this was the target against which he must measure himself. This was the one he must equal or best if he was to be their Captain.
        So far, in the free-style matches, they were very nearly equal. Gari's strength was superior, but Kirk had a cunning determination, and a bag of tricks from his years of service. He had seen combat with aliens that these youngsters had only read about, and a few still too classified to discuss. And he hadn't forgotten his barroom brawls of earlier shore leave days.
        The phaser range was also Kirk's vantage point; as free flight fighting was Gari's, but just barely. Strength did not count where there was no gravity. Rapid calculations on trajectories and thrust angles did, these were second-nature to a captain. Gari had the edge in physical stamina, but Kirk was fast closing that gap, even with the fifteen years that were between them.
        Kirk knew that Gari knew that they were in competition, knew that he had known it from the first day. Thus far, they had never spoken. Coming out of his thoughts, Kirk noticed Dory was still standing beside him.
        “One more week like this and they can have the job,” he flopped down to rest for the one minute remaining.
        “One more week? You've got three to go, Jimmy, and when I get through, ya'll be good as new!” he chuckled.
        “Three weeks!” Kirk sat up fast, too fast, and winced as sore muscles took their revenge. “This class ends in one week.”
        “Ah.. for them, Jimmy,.. but not for you!”
        “Oh, no!” he went back down in exaggerated agony, “He didn't!”
        “He did,” Dory backed away, still chuckling.
        “Awright youse guys.. up an' at it again!” he shouted to the others, “Those last sit-ups were lousy, strictly wobblelegger stuff!” he threw out the current slang insult to be sure of their attention. You didn't get cocky around Dory.
        “Now, you will run the room 20 times and then we will do those sit-ups again. Ready! Now go, you bastards!”
        Thirty sweaty recruits raced madly around the room, sweat drops falling on the dusty floor, slippery residue to be dodged the next time around, pounding feet drumming in rhythm, slipping, drumming.
        Kirk struggled amid the panting mayhem, and kept up right behind Gari. As they neared the 20th lap, Kirk spurted past him, momentarily allowed himself a self satisfied grin, glanced over to Dory to see if his small victory had been seen and then dropped down once more into the rapid sit-ups.
        As he began, he caught the exchange between the recruit and Dory and realized that he was no longer certain that he had won. He threw himself harder into the exercises. Dory watched from across the room, smiling.