MUTINY ON THE
ENTERPRISE
“Sir, please do not touch the console.” Kirk spun to see several crewmen standing along the rear bulkhead. “Use of the phasers against the society below is wrong.”
“Get to your posts immediately. This is a direct order! Lives will be lost if you don’t obey.”
“We’d like to do as you say, sir, except it means using violence. We cannot do that. Lorelei has explained it all to us.”
Kirk didn’t have time to argue. He turned to the panel. When the lights flashed ready, he hit the intercom button. “Chekov, fire! I’ve got the phasers set!”
No answer.
“Chekov, what’s happening?”
POCKET BOOKS
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Another Original publication of POCKET BOOKS
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10020
Copyright © 1983 Paramount Pictures Corporation. All Rights Reserved.
STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures Corporation.
This book is published by Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc., under exclusive license from Paramount Pictures Corporation.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, N.Y. 10020
ISBN: 0-671-67073-5 .
First Pocket Books printing October 1983
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POCKET and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.
Printed in the U.S.A.
For the best friends in this or any other universe—
Geo. and Lana
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About the e-Book
Chapter One
Captain’s Log, Stardate 4769.1
Mapping and preliminary contact of Class Q planet Delta Canaris IV complete. After this mission, the Enterprise requires extensive maintenance and the crew sorely needs R and R at Starbase One. I have recommended commendations for several of the crew, notably Mr. Spock for his unflagging efforts in contacting the wafer-thin intelligences on the high-gravity planet. His techniques for contact will establish standards to be used throughout the remainder of our five-year mission and possibly for many years to come by other primary-contact vessels.
“There it is, Captain,” came Lieutenant Sulu’s excited voice. “Starbase One. It never looked better.”
[10] James T. Kirk lounged back in the command seat and stared at the visual display. The orbiting dry docks that would hold a huge starship like the Enterprise floated in perfect geometric arrays to one side of the planet. Just a fraction to the right, under the waxy white clouds occasionally laced with the black of storms and the flash of lightning, lay the sprawling complex of Starbase One. Kirk closed his eyes for a moment and vividly remembered the last time he’d been here.
It had been before the start of the Enterprise’s current exploratory mission. Before Alnath II and before finding the amazing millimeter-thick intelligences on Delta Canaris. It had been before he had been given command of any ship. As a lieutenant, he had cut a wide swath through the social circles at this starbase. He still remembered some of the long nights, the parties, the excitement.
Kirk sighed and opened his eyes, the memory fading. That was all behind him now. He had more responsibility than anyone should bear. Running a starship the size of the Enterprise provided full-time work, full-time worry. Let his junior officers go out and try to match the scrapes he’d gotten into when he had been their age. Kirk knew he’d spend much of his time aboard his ship making certain every piece of equipment got repaired and tuned to the strictest Starfleet standards.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Message, Captain,” came Uhura’s soft voice. “From Admiral McKenna.”
Kirk let out a long, low sigh. The last person he wanted to speak with was an admiral, especially one with as hard-nosed an attitude as McKenna’s.
“Put the admiral on the screen, Lieutenant,” he said. The picture of the planet scrambled and was replaced by a woman, [11] with hair pulled back in a severe style that did nothing to enhance her looks.
“How are you, Admiral?” Kirk greeted.
“Fine, Kirk,” she said, her words curt and hard. “Don’t bother docking. You won’t be in orbit long enough.”
“What?” Kirk said, coming fully alert. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. Strands of gray shot through her black hair, adding authority to her looks. The once-fine lines across her forehead and around her eyes had turned into gullies—hard gullies that showed the burdens command placed on her. Kirk wasn’t about to let the load ease any on her by shifting duty to him. Not now. Not after the battering his ship and crew had just taken.
“If your ship’s doctor rules that you have a hearing impairment, I’ll see about removing you from command. Otherwise, prepare to beam aboard a party of three.”
“Admiral McKenna, you’ve had time to examine my status report. This ship requires extensive maintenance work. Our engines need refitting. The computer is long overdue for a checkout available only from a starbase cybernetics expert. My crew is—”
The woman cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“You’ve put in multiple recommendations for Commander Scott. I’ve checked his record. He is able to keep any engine running, no matter its condition. Your Mr. Spock trained our head of cybernetics. You report ‘excellents’ up and down the line, in every department. Have you filed a false status report?”
“Admiral, that’s unfair. My crew is the best in space. The Enterprise’s record shows that, but we need shore leave. I demand it for my crew. They aren’t machines able to run forever. They’re flesh and blood.”
Admiral McKenna ignored Kirk’s outburst.
[12] “Look at the ships in dry-dock bays one and four. Tell me what you see.”
Kirk leaned back, fingers drumming on the armrest. His eyes never left the screen where the admiral’s face peered back at him larger than life. From his station to the right, Spock furnished the information the admiral had requested.
“Those dry docks show starships in total repair conditions. One lacks engines altogether. The other appears to have a large section removed from the bridge area.”
“It doesn’t have a bridge at all—not anymore.” Admiral McKenna’s face tightened, her lips pulling back into a thin line hardly more than a razor’s slash. “The Romulans saw to that. Blew the Scarborough’s bridge, along with Captain Virzi and his officers, into atoms. Commendations went out to four ensigns who assumed command.”
“The Romulans?” Kirk asked skeptically. “I hadn’t heard of any trouble with them.”
“I appreciate your brush with the Klingons. This situation is potentially as dangerous. To the point: there are no other starships in even half the condition of the Enterprise. There is also no time to waste. This mission will not require battle engagement. I dislike sending you out again without o
verhaul, but all you are required to do is transport a team of specialists to Ammdon.”
“All?” he pressed.
“Almost all. Ambassador Zarv and his peace negotiators will fill you in on any other duties. I’ve instructed the cargo master in dry dock fourteen to begin loading replacement supplies. If your engineering crew hurries, they might be able to requisition whatever they need to work on your engines while en route to Ammdon.”
“Admiral McKenna, I protest your actions. While this situation might be serious—”
[13] “It is, Captain. Ambassador Zarv will brief you. And consider him to be more than just a passenger.”
“I’m under his orders?”
“No, Captain Kirk, nothing of the sort. You know that. However,” the woman said, clearing her throat, “anything the ambassador suggests should be strongly considered to be the next thing to a command. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Good.” For a moment she stared at Kirk, her pale-gray eyes softening a little. “And, Jim, I’m sorry about this. I really am.” The picture tore apart and re-formed in the original view of the planet. The white clouds had darkened considerably and gigavolt surges of lightning now racked the leveled mountain where Starbase One rested.
“Captain,” came Spock’s level voice, “three are beaming up from starbase. Do you wish to meet them?”
“Have we any choice, Mr. Spock?” he asked, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. He glanced up at his science officer and saw one eyebrow lift slightly, the most emotion Spock would show at his balking at orders. “Come on, then. Let’s go meet Ambassador Zarv and his team of peace specialists. Mr. Chekov, you have the conn.”
The turbo-elevator doors opened and closed, then opened again before Kirk realized he’d left the bridge. His thoughts were as stormy as the thunder racking the planet. His crew deserved shore leave.
“Captain, are you all right?” Spock asked. The Vulcan stood to one side, hands held behind his back.
“Dammit, Spock, I am not all right. She has no right ordering us back into space. My crew needs R and R. This ship needs to be repaired. Even you could use a bit of recreation.”
“I, Captain? Hardly.” Spock turned and watched the [14] sparkling motes dance around in the transporter beams. The pillars of scintillant energy hardened into figures.
Kirk stepped forward to greet the peace negotiators.
“Kirk?” demanded a short, piglike man. “When can we start for Ammdon? Time is of the essence in this urgent matter. We must not delay. Not an instant!”
“Ambassador Zarv,” Kirk said. The Tellarite seemed an unlikely choice for negotiation of any type. He was brusque, rude and going out of his way to be obnoxious. “Welcome aboard the starship Enterprise.”
“I know what this hunk of tin is!” The transporter technician stiffened. Kirk bit back a smile. Scotty had his engineering section imbued with the same love of the Enterprise that he had. If Scotty had heard the Enterprise referred to as a “hunk of tin,” he’d have heaved the ambassador back into the transporter and dispersed the beam in empty space.
“Then you’re aware that we are taking on supplies, that we require certain maintenance, that—”
“Captain Kirk,” cut in another of the trio. “Ambassador Zarv is rightfully upset over the delays already encountered in this vexing matter. We need to reach Ammdon as soon as possible, as your superiors have no doubt informed you.”
“For what reason do we endanger all our lives?” Kirk asked. The man he addressed appeared to be from Earth. Dressed in a light-blue velvet jacket, frilled dress shirt and tight black breeches, he might have been a fashion model rather than a diplomat. Kirk didn’t make the mistake of dismissing him as a fop, however. The man’s eyes were chips of polar ice and only the words he spoke were warm. Everything else about him indicated steel under the velvet.
“The planets Ammdon and Jurnamoria occupy adjoining solar systems. Their diplomatic processes are somewhat primitive and lacking compared with ours.”
“Get to the point, Lorritson,” snapped Zarv. “What he’s [15] trying to say is that these barbarians are going to start shooting at one another unless we intervene. The Federation has a vested interest in maintaining the peace in this region. Mining, manufacturing, all that. Worst of all, Ammdon and Jurnamoria are out in the Orion Arm.”
“And the Romulans are making aggressive moves in the area,” Kirk finished. He remembered Admiral McKenna’s terse comments about the Scarborough.
“Precisely. There may be hope for you yet, Captain,” said Zarv. When he pulled himself up to his full height, he barely came to the middle of Kirk’s chest. Tiny, close-set eyes bored upward, driven by an intensity bordering on fanaticism. “We are experts on the situation, Kirk. Get us there.”
Zarv pointed to Spock and said, “You. Take us to our quarters. Now. And get this ship to Ammdon.”
Spock glanced to Kirk, who nodded. Spock silently led the ambassador off. Lorritson and the other diplomat remained behind.
“We haven’t been formally introduced, Captain,” Lorritson spoke up. “I’m Donald Lorritson, chief attaché to the Ammdon system.”
Kirk blinked once in surprise. Lorritson was hardly thirty, much too young to hold such a high diplomatic post—unless he was a high-powered negotiator. That made Ambassador Zarv seem all the more capable.
“And the other member of our team is Mek Jokkor. Mek Jokkor’s an expert on agricultural products, especially those cultivated in the Orion Arm.” Kirk shook hands with Mek Jokkor, felt a slight stickiness when he pulled his hand away. “Mek Jokkor is not animal, such as we are, Captain. No DNA. He is more closely related to the plants of our world than he is to us.”
“You don’t speak?” Kirk asked, staring openly at the [16] being. A tiny shake of a human-appearing head was all the answer he got.
“Mek Jokkor’s expertise lies in adapting plants of Ammdon for growth on Jurnamoria, and vice versa. He’s truly amazing. We are going to use this as a bargaining lever, since much of the problem between the planets deals with food supplies.”
A loud cry echoed in the corridor outside the transporter room.
“Thank you for your briefing, Mr. Lorritson,” Kirk said quickly. “As much as I’d like to hear more about your mission at this time, I believe your ambassador is ... bellowing.”
Lorritson smiled, then curtly nodded to Mek Jokkor. The pair hurried off, passing Dr. Leonard McCoy in the doorway.
“What’s going on, Jim?” McCoy demanded. “What’s all the fuss with that Tellarite? And what are they doing aboard?”
“Ambassador Zarv will be more than happy to fill you in, Bones,” Kirk said mischievously. “As for myself, I think I’ve just been pollinated.” He wiped the stickiness on his right hand onto his tunic, then left before McCoy asked still another question he didn’t want to answer.
“ ’Tis not possible, sair,” Commander Montgomery Scott protested. “Me wee bairns’ll nae take the strain.” He looked as if he wanted to embrace the powerful engines of the Enterprise.
“Do what you can, Scotty. Get as much equipment as possible beamed over while we’re in orbit.”
“We need dry-dockin’. Nothin’ else will do for us.”
James Kirk glanced around the engine room. Everything was spotless, gleaming, perfect. No captain in Starfleet had a better engineering officer than Montgomery Scott. Scotty maintained the engines as if the tiniest waggle of an indicator [17] needle from one hundred percent were a nail driven into his own flesh.
“This is going to be a milk run. Nothing too fast. No emergency speeds or maneuvering. All we’re doing is taking a three-man diplomatic team to Ammdon.”
“Ammdon!” cried the engineer. “That’s on the other side of the universe!”
“Not quite,” said Kirk, smiling. “But the ship will hold together, won’t it?”
“Aye, that it will,” said the engineer with some regret. Kirk saw that Scotty wanted to rip
into the engines and lovingly rebuild them from scratch, to make them even more powerful, to give them just a bit more performance. “But I canna recommend it.”
“What’s the worst that can go wrong?”
“The magnetic bottles. The fields get mighty thin in places. One rupture and we lose all power. We might nae survive that, sair.” Scotty made an expressive gesture with his hands showing everything blowing apart.
Kirk thought that over, then asked, “What warp factor do you consider a safe maximum? Other than impulse power over to a dry dock?”
“Well, sair, nothin’ beyond warp factor three. The strain ...”
“I know, Scotty. How well I know.” Kirk took a deep breath, scanned the engine room once more, then said, “Carry on. And I’ll try not to ask more than warp two.”
“I dinna mean it was all right to go even that fast, sair. I meant to say that warp three is the max.”
Kirk left Scotty mumbling to himself, fiddling with dials and making volumes of notes on new and different ways of fine-tuning the precious engines. Still, Captain Kirk worried over the instability in the magnetic bottles in the warp engines. The powerful magnetic fields held in the colliding [18] matter and antimatter that thrust the ship through warp space. The slightest weakening of that field meant loss of power at best and total destruction at worst.
Then Kirk put it out of his mind. He had his orders. Let Scotty carry out his.
“Status report, Mr. Chekov.”
“All fine, Captain,” the navigator responded. “On course, warp factor two, as ordered.”
“Spock?” he asked. “What’s ship’s status?”
“The computer checkout is proceeding according to schedule, sir. It employs a new program I wrote for just this purpose.”
“You wrote it in your spare time, I assume, Mr. Spock?”
STAR TREK: TOS #12 - Mutiny on the Enterprise Page 1
