“We had to withdraw from our observation of the nova to return to Starbase 9 for just minor repairs,” April wrote in a personal log while serving aboard the Gates, “repairs that could’ve been completed ourselves if the ship had been designed to be a little more self-sufficient.”
April became increasingly convinced that a bolder step in starship design was needed. He envisioned a large ship manned by a crew in the hundreds—many of them scientists, provided with the latest research technology—with a sturdier design, and the ability to sustain a longer mission without contact with a repair base. The ship could also serve as the front line to defend the Federation, but its mission, like all Starfleet ships, would primarily be one of peace. After serving aboard the Los Angeles for three years, he requested a transfer to the Starfleet Logistics Command to pursue his dream.
April, an eclectic man with a love of science, had his own unique charisma. Once transferred to Starfleet Logistics, he rallied the department around him to pursue his project. He sought the help of a new generation of engineers and scientists to help him with his design. First, he wanted this ship to be fast. For decades, no Federation starship had been able to break the Warp 7 barrier. The Federation Science Academy had embraced the theory that it was in fact a time barrier and that exceeding Warp 7 would cause a ship to travel backward in time. None of the Federation adversaries had been able to break this barrier, so this point of view prevailed at Starfleet for decades. It ended with April.
“The only absolute proof that this was the final speed barrier,” April said in his personal logs covering the development of the Constitution-class project, “was other people’s failure to break it.” He soon found the one engineer who agreed with him.
His name was Laurence Marvick, a young, brilliant engineer at the Cochrane Institute on Proxima, who had proposed a theoretical engine design that could exceed Warp 7. Not only was Marvick’s engine design new—the computer that would control the reactor was also theoretical. No computer currently in use by Starfleet or anyone else was powerful enough to run Marvick’s reactor. So April also needed to find someone to build a new computer.
Richard Daystrom, a twenty-four-year-old computer genius, had just won the Nobel Prize for a breakthrough in computer technology. Called Duotronics, it was the ultimate in both computational speed and user-friendly interface. Thinking that Daystrom might be able to help him, April sought him out. This turned out to be no easy feat.
“Daystrom wouldn’t take my call,” April said, “and why should he? He was being pursued by every major university and computer manufacturer in the quadrant.” So April took the extraordinary step of beaming into Daystrom’s office.
“I got a big black mark in my service record,” April said, “but I also got to talk to Daystrom.” The computer savant looked over Marvick’s engine design, and was certain that a Duotronic computer would solve the problems. The Warp 8 engine was suddenly no longer impossible.
ABOVE: Left to right: Richard Daystrom, Laurence Marvick, and Robert April, with the finalized design for the Constitution-class ship.
Although the ships themselves were designed to be more self-sufficient and operate for longer periods without repair, April proposed that the Constitution-class starships operate under five-year missions. This way, the starships could make use of the best minds in the Federation, including those who might not want to commit to a life of exploration. It would also allow the ships to be refitted with whatever technological breakthroughs had occurred during their time in deep space.
His design completed and practical, April made a proposal to Starfleet Command to commission twelve of the ships. In turn, Starfleet took the plan to the Federation Council. “I knew I would need a campaign to get a project like this through the Council bureaucracy,” April said, “so I built the campaign into the proposal.”
According to his plan, every founding member of the Federation would make a contribution to the ships. Earth would design and build the superstructure; the Vulcans would provide the scientific sensors and equipment; the Andorians would provide the weapons and defensive systems; Tellar would provide the creature comforts of food and recreation technology; Proxima would design and build the warp engines. Each of these worlds would have a personal stake in a project that would provide their homeworld with its own production boon. The founding members would then subcontract to newer members, eventually making the program very attractive to every world in the Federation. April had envisioned this as a project that would go far beyond the initial twelve ships and this was how he would guarantee its longevity.
The project’s approval, however, was stalled for a year with the Council. It was such a large undertaking that the details of it were combed through and argued many times. In the end, it was another threat to the Federation that precipitated the Council’s full embrace of April’s plan.
THE BATTLE OF DONATU V
Since the destruction of the Castro in 2223, the Asteroid Prospectors Association had sought Starfleet’s protection. Starfleet was limited in terms of how many ships it could devote to this task, so to bolster its forces in the area near Klingon space (known simply as “the Disputed Area”), Starfleet put a few ships that had been retired back in service, including the re-fitted and re-armed Patton and Eisenhower—eighty—year-old Marshall-class light cruisers that had been part of the fleet that defended Sol during the Romulan War.
One of the systems in the Disputed Area, the star Donatu, had seven planets. None were capable of supporting humanoid life, but in 2242, a Federation survey of the fifth planet showed it was rich in dilithium; a prospecting station was set up. The Klingons sent three ships under the command of a Captain Klaar to remove the Federation prospectors. The Starfleet ships on patrol in that area picked up the Klingon task force and moved in to help the prospectors, but their crews knew they were no match for the Klingon ships.
The Patton was under the command of Lieutenant Commander Matthew Decker, a tough, aggressive officer. “I was a commander,” Admiral Jose Mendez (ret.), the commanding officer of the Eisenhower, said in an interview with this author, “Matt Decker was only a lieutenant commander, so I had seniority. But Decker had an instinct about battle, so I took my lead from him.”
Decker knew the Klingon ships could outgun the scouts, but the scouts had one advantage. The atmosphere of Donatu V was carbon dioxide and nitrogen, thick with clouds of sulfuric acid in a constant state of vigorous circulation.
“Decker told me to follow him out of warp near the planet,” Mendez said, “and fire a volley of all our weapons. We would then drop into the atmosphere before the Klingons could get a bead on us.” The Klingons were unprepared for this bold attack, and Decker and Mendez continued these hit-and-run tactics, popping out of the atmosphere, firing, and dropping back in. This allowed time for two Baton Rouge—c1ass ships to join them. By then, however, the Klingons had withdrawn.
The battle was considered inconclusive in determining the status of the area. However, its effect on the Federation Council was decisive: new ships suddenly seemed vital and April’s plan was given a green light.
ABOVE: Lieutenant Commander Matthew Decker of the Patton. He would eventually rise to the rank of commodore before his death in 2267.
THE SECOND CONSTITUTION-CLASS STARSHIP
By 2243, April was overseeing the construction of the components of the first two ships in the San Francisco Navy Yards. The ships would be given the registry number Naval Construction Contract, or N.C.C., followed by a number. The first two: 1700 and 1701. it is interesting to note that the first ship out in space was not the first numbered: April took command of the second ship commissioned so he could stay in the development project a little longer. Command of the 1700 went to Garth of Izar, formerly captain of the Baton Rouge. Garth, an officer with a brilliant record, was also a perfectionist, and his obsession with detail slowed his ship’s production process.
So in the end, it was April’s ship that launched first, on April 11
, 2245. In his captains log from the day of the ship’s launch, April jokingly denied that he planned the launch for the month of April—and also noted that there was only one guest at the launch whose presence he cared about, the former Starfleet captain whose ship’s exploits had partially inspired April’s project: Jonathan Archer. Archer, 133 years old, had lived long enough to see the launch of the first Starfleet ship since his own to be named Enterprise. April said that Archer had wished him luck before returning to his home in upstate New York. His era at an end, Jonathan Archer died peacefully the next day.
ABOVE: Robert April was commissioned as captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise on April 11, 2245. The commission harks back to the naval traditions of Earth that Starfleet still embraces to this day.
ABOVE: The Tellarites enforced very aggressive trade practices with anyone they went into business with, as illustrated in this trade agreement to mine pergium on Akaali. If examined closely, it appears that the Tellarites were not, in fact, agreeing to provide anything in exchange for the right to mine on the Akaali planet.
* * *
TRADE AGREEMENT BETWEEN TELLARITE MINING CONSORTIUM AND THE AKAALI GOVERNMENT
TRANSLATED FROM THE TELLARITE
* * *
1. The Akaali Government agrees to allow the Tellarite Mining Consortium to mine the element PERGIUM on the southern continent, coordinates latitude 34.045, longitude -118.521.
A) The Akaali agree that this agreement covers any source of pergium discovered during the term of this contract.
B) The Akaali agree that this agreement covers any source of any element that the Tellarite Mining Consortium discovers on the Akaali world during the term of this contract.
2. Tellarite Mining Consortium agrees to provide Government of Akaali with 20% of the gross income from the sale of the mined ore.
A) Akaali Government agrees that 20% of the gross income will go toward coverage of incidental expenses incurred during transportation off planet of the mined ore.
3. The Government of Akaali agrees to provide living facilities for Tellarite Miners and their families.
A) Akaali Government also agrees to provide food, unless:
I) food is indigestible to Tellarite physiology or,
II) food is unpleasant to Tellarite palate.
B) In the case of Section 3, Paragraph A, subsection I &/or II, the Akaali agree to reimburse Tellarite Mining Consortium for importation of appropriate food.
4. The length of term of this contract is limited to three years unless the Tellarite Mining Consortium informs the Government of Tandara that they intend to extend the term.
* * *
ABOVE: An artist’s rendering of the Organian Ayelborne simultaneously appearing in the offices of the Federation president and the Klingon chancellor.
CHAPTER IV
* * *
THE EDGE OF NIGHT
2245-2290
* * *
“I’m starting to realize that ‘we come in peace’ only means something if they’re clear on the fact that we can also kick their ass.”
—Matthew Decker, Starfleet Commodore, excerpt from his log, Stardate 4197.3
By 2250, the twelve Constitution-class ships were aloft, heading out in twelve different directions from Starfleet Command, to become the lead ships of Starfleet.
Enterprise had been given a patrol area that not only included the Neutral Zone with the Romulans, it also encompassed the Disputed Area with the Klingons. Eventually, this ship would face conflict on all fronts, but, ironically, one of its first missions would remind the Federation that not all enemies come from outside. It would also have a profound effect on the man who would become the most famous Starfleet officer of his day—and who would come to define this new era.
TARSUS IV
The Tarsus system, first mapped by the Essex, was at the edge of known space, on the other side of the Galaxy from the Romulans and the Klingons. The fourth planet was settled in the late twenty-second century by a group of Humans who sought a life away from conflict. Many were veterans of the Romulan War, accompanied by their families. They hoped that by removing themselves from Earth and its allies, they could live a more peaceful existence. Once the Tarsus IV government was established, it was accepted as part of the Federation. For many years, Tarsus IV was a self-sustaining and peaceful world.
Then, in 2246, an alien fungus entered the food chain of the planet and destroyed most of the food supply. The 8,000 inhabitants on Tarsus IV panicked. Kevin Reilly, later an officer in Starfleet, was born on Tarsus IV and was a child when the crisis occurred. He recorded his recollections for Memory Alpha as part of a living witness project on the Tarsus IV disaster: “I remember my parents locked the door to our house,” Reilly said. “I overheard them talking about the fact that the food would be gone long before help could arrive.” The government took a different turn.
Since its inception, Tarsus IV had been a technocracy. The decision-makers of the ruling council were scientists, engineers, and technicians who had been selected based upon how knowledgeable they were in their field. There was a governor-type figure named Kodos, who was appointed by the council based upon his managerial ability to deal with problems and delegate tasks, but he was not elected. Most of the colonists didn’t even know what he looked like. Now, however, this governor was faced with a terrible crisis. And he was the wrong man at the wrong time.
ABOVE: During this period, many worlds sought admission to the Federation. It was a long and arduous process for them to prove that they had reached a level of civilization where they were able to operate within its laws. (In fact, many historians question whether the Tellarites and Andorians, had they not been founding members, would have been admitted today under the requirements they helped establish.) Federation members’ homeworlds must be governed under a democracy. But admission to the Federation was not always an easily made decision, even among its own members, as was the case with the Coridan admission. Coridan was a world that had served as a pawn in intergalactic politics for over a century before it was finally admitted, and its people struggled for a long time to meet the requirement of democracy. The vote of the Federation Council was greatly influenced by the findings of the Babel Conference of 2268.
“We had police officers on Tarsus IV,” Reilly said, “but before the crisis they were more like guards you’d find in an ancient shopping mall. They didn’t even carry guns.” In the wake of the populace’s panic, Kodos turned the local security forces into a militia. He issued them weapons and commanded them to maintain order. He then called the ruling council together and told them that he had determined that their food supply would last long enough for help to arrive only if their population was halved.
Seth Rivel, a scientist who survived the crisis and made his report to the Federation, relayed this meeting. “I was stunned,” Rivel said. “I looked around at the other members of the council, trying to see if I was the only one hearing that he was really suggesting killing half of the population.
“I barely knew Kodos,” Rivel said. “He had seemed very cold to me, but not this cold.” Before the council could do anything, Kodos declared martial law. He did not need the ruling council’s consent, and had already made his own list of who would live and who would die.
The late biologist Thomas Leighton, also a survivor of Tarsus IV, made a contribution to the living witness project before his death: “I was thirteen; I was goofing around with a friend, and even though we knew something bad was going on, we were too young to really comprehend it.”
Without revealing why, Kodos ordered 4,000 colonists to report to the main square of the colony. “My parents were called, but I wasn’t,” Leighton said, “so I was naturally curious what was going on. When you’re a kid, you don’t like to be left out.” Leighton and his friend James Kirk, also thirteen, who was living on the planet with his mother, hid near the town square to spy on the crowd.
Kodos appeared before the colonists and told the 4,000 that their
lives would be sacrificed so that the “more valuable” members of the colony could live. Then the militia was ordered to kill them. “They turned their energy weapons on the crowd,” Leighton said, “and I screamed. My parents had been burned alive.” Startled at the boy’s scream, a militia member turned and fired at Leighton. Kirk tackled his friend to the ground—the beam from the weapon only searing his face instead of killing him.
Those colonists Kodos spared were horrified. Their lives had been bought at a terrible cost. But they were also afraid, and did nothing to rebel against the new order.
Kodos, meanwhile, was organizing the strict rationing of the available food when he received a communication from Starfleet.
“Spoke to Governor Kodos today,” Captain Robert April recorded in his log, “and informed him that the Enterprise was already on its way. He seemed surprised at how fast we were going to get there. I guess news of the Constitution-class hasn’t made it out this far.”
There is no clear record of the following events, but when Robert April beamed down to Tarsus IV all that was left of “Kodos the Executioner” was a body burned beyond recognition?
AUTHOR’S NOTE: It was later discovered that Kodos had successfully faked his own death. He survived as a Shakespearean actor who traveled with a small theater company. Thomas Leighton and James Kirk would he the men responsible tor discovering his true identity. But before he could be brought to justice, he was accidentally killed.
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