The Enterprise War

by John Jackson Miller

  “I don’t suppose you want to take any of my people back with you?” Baladon asked.

  “We’re kind of full up—and I’m not sure what they’d do. Here, they’ve got a project.” Baladon’s crewmembers were belowdecks, receiving the replacement equipment Enterprise’s engineers had beamed over.

  “Some project. It will take us months.”

  “Yeah, well, we’d like a head start.”

  Baladon laughed. “You are a true pirate, Connolly. You sell yourself short with these people. You should come with us.”

  “No, it’s not me.”

  Baladon knew Connolly had been regretting his actions ever more in the days since rejoining his crew, especially as he had learned the fates of others he had served with—and had helped to abduct.

  Connolly spoke again. “You remember Malce, the Antaran from my first squad?”

  “You mean the little sniveling one?”

  “You can call him that. I wouldn’t. He ran headlong into a Rengru fortress on Varadah II.”

  “I don’t remember the Rengru having a fortress on Varadah II.”

  “They don’t. He ran in with a sack full of Slammer-Nines on his back.”

  “Huh,” Baladon said. “I wouldn’t have thought he had it in him.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t have happened.” Connolly looked down. “The longer I’ve been free, been back on Enterprise—and knowing now the whole war was a mistake—the more I feel I should have fought harder against the Boundless. Shouldn’t have cooperated, shouldn’t have tried to make deals with Kormagan. And I definitely shouldn’t have traded people around like they were outfielders.”

  “What is it with you Federation people, always courting misery?” Baladon asked. “You couldn’t have resisted. I wouldn’t have let you resist. Your acts would have gotten you nowhere, and would have been seen by no one.”

  “I would have known.”

  “Bah!” Baladon stood and clapped his hand on the human’s shoulder. “There will come a time, friend Connolly, when you learn that we are all just microbes in the muck, living to eat and breed. All else is in your imagination.”

  “Well, I can imagine doing something different then. If there’s a next time.” He looked out the viewport at Enterprise. “I’ll tell you, though, I’ve asked Captain Pike for a more active role. No sitting around on the bridge when big things happen.”

  Baladon laughed. “Are you sure you’re really a scientist?”

  “Babe Ruth pitched and batted. So can I.” Connolly snapped his fingers. “Speaking of career changes, I nearly forgot. I brought you something.” He pulled a data slate out of his satchel.

  “Parting gifts? Lovely. And I didn’t even clean the place up.”

  “That week I spent in sickbay trying to teach my body to live without the armor, I found out people had been reading an ancient Earth book about shipwrecks.”

  “And you wish me one. It improves.”

  “No, this was the author’s follow-up,” he said, handing it to Baladon. “The Life, Adventures, and Pyracies of the Famous Captain Singleton.”

  “A pirate?”

  “Who had enough of the life, and went straight and settled down. That’s still the plan, isn’t it?”

  Baladon scratched his chin. “Spock had said something about a planet that might be good for my people—Garadius something. We might go take a look.”

  “I remember that place. Maybe it’s still uninhabited. What if you get there and find that somebody else wants it?”

  Baladon grinned. “That is not an impediment.”

  74

  * * *

  U.S.S. Enterprise

  Outside the Pergamum Nebula

  “The war is over. Enterprise is recalled from Pergamum Nebula. Destination to follow.”

  It had been short, as all their transmissions from Starfleet had been. And sweet—that was a change.

  The news of the cessation of hostilities had arrived just as Enterprise was limping out of the nebula, using a Boundless-suggested route that took them through the Acheron Formation with far less drama along the way. The timing made for a psychologist’s buffet of mixed feelings.

  Relief, of course, for the war’s end—and for the end to their isolation.

  They had spent months longer than the appointed year in the body, and their stay had been difficult in the extreme. And yet, as bad as all the experiences of Enterprise’s crew had been, as more accounts came in about the traumas back home, a mixture of anger, grief, and regret filled the corridors.

  Hell had been visited on the Federation, and they had been away. Kept away, Pike felt—where they’d wound up in the wrong war. Many aboard questioned where they’d been, and what they’d done. Pike had thought to remind others that the Boundless had been trapped in a mistake for centuries—but he’d decided that was better left unsaid. His crew was smart. People could figure that out on their own.

  It wasn’t long after Enterprise began making its way home that the transfers began. Shuttles dispatched from the ship on a nearly daily basis, sending some away in exchange for their overdue relief officers; others, like Raden, to be with family or friends impacted by the Klingon War. The young Ktarian had shown true dedication despite his injuries, but Pike had missed his longtime helmsman. His command hadn’t been the same without a Tyler on the bridge.

  And others were entertaining opportunities to help rebuild the fleet. No one had as many offers as Galadjian, who had resumed holding spirited conversations with a team that idolized him now more than ever. The tale of a prize-winning theoretician crawling around Jefferies tubes and teaching himself starship repair with a data slate had spread far beyond Enterprise. Pike expected to hear any day that he was heading for his own Starfleet Corps of Engineering command, continuing Enterprise’s game of chief engineer roulette.

  Possibly the best reason for leaving was Carlotti’s, as she had begun her leave with her new child. He didn’t know whether she, or any of them, would be back. Whatever happened, for the next few months a much different crew would run Enterprise, presuming Starfleet didn’t take one look at its damage and decommission the thing. But he still had Nhan, Connolly, Colt, and many others—

  —plus the two he cared most for, and had been most concerned about of late. He stood at the door of the first one, and got ready to wait. Spock had taken ever longer, lately, to respond to the request to enter.

  The door opened to admit Pike to a darkened room. He looked about. Spock kept tidy personal quarters normally, but this seemed different. Unlived in. The bed appeared unused.

  Spock sat on the floor, staring at nothing. His candles remained on the shelves, unlit. Pike asked anyway. “Meditating?”

  “I . . . cannot meditate.”

  Pike edged his way into Spock’s view. The science officer didn’t look up. “We’ve missed you on the bridge lately.”

  Seemingly lost, Spock spoke to the air. “What time is it?”

  “Not that time.”

  Pike knew that Spock had barely slept in weeks—continuing to cite the debilitating nightmares. Boyce could do nothing for him. Spock had tried to return to his station during the journey from K’davu, but he had grown so ineffective that often he just sat on the bridge, hand covering his mouth as he looked at his terminal. Pike thought it might be to cover the mouthing of words, which, while better than mumbling, had never subsided.

  He saw a data slate on Spock’s table. It was still active. “Still working on Defoe, I see.”

  “Yes.”

  From past attempts at conversations, he knew that Spock had been trying—intentionally or not—to retrace his life from his exile on Skon’s World, including reading things he had read during that time. But this, Pike saw, was a later Defoe work. “A Journal of the Plague Year. Didn’t we just live through that?”

  “No. It is . . . about . . .”

  “I know. The black death.” Pike reached down and shut the slate off. “Spock, you should be reading cheerier stuff. Do
ing cheerier stuff.”

  “I have been . . . drawing.”

  Pike looked over at the desk before deciding not to look at his art. It was too private, and Spock’s condition was not something amenable to a pep talk—from a captain, or a friend. But there was one thing he and Spock shared. Sitting in one of the Vulcan chairs nearby, he clasped his hands together and spoke into the darkness.

  “Spock, I want to tell you something. I’ve had moments like these too. I nearly got crushed as a kid—” He paused. “No, it’s not that. It’s more recent than that. It’s Talos IV, Spock. I was there, and I think I still am. Buried, under all that rock.”

  He looked over at his friend. Spock was mouthing words, not fully listening.

  Pike looked away at the ceiling. “I see that place, Spock. I see Vina all the time. You were there, Spock. Do you see them?” He looked to him. “You knew to use Talos IV as a code I would recognize. Do you remember that?”

  Spock clasped his own hands in front of his face, the same way Pike had. “I remember . . .”

  “I don’t dare bring it up because I know they’ll lock me away, pull me off the ship. And I have obligations. These people need me, Spock.” He leaned over, toward him. “You need me.”

  “You . . . need me,” Spock parroted.

  “Yes, Spock. We need you.”

  “Captain . . . I request you . . . take me to . . .”

  “Take you where, Spock?”

  “. . . a facility. Where I can be helped.”

  Pike simply breathed. It was the only thing he’d asked for in weeks.

  “Sure thing, Spock. I’ll take you.”

  Eyes wild, Spock grabbed the captain’s hands, surprising him. “I will take you, Christopher Pike. To be helped.”

  “No, Spock. I’ll take you. You’ll get help—and I’ll see you again. I swear.”

  * * *

  Pike felt he had already been made a liar—this time, by obligations to a larger number. Starfleet had not approved the captain’s absence, and he could not leave his post until he got the rest of his crew all the way home. Boyce had accompanied Spock aboard shuttle Copernicus, delivering him to a mental health facility on Starbase 5.

  The doctor was available because Carlotti’s relief had arrived, but also because he had no patients left to tend. Una, with no more reminder of her Rengru joining than a light scar on the back of her neck, joined Pike on the observation deck.

  “Good evening, Number One.”

  “And to you. I wanted to let you know that the final turbolift has been repaired.”

  “That is the best news I’ve had in a year and a half.” He stretched against the viewport. “Why’d we put it off so long?”

  “Too much else to fix,” she said. “There still is. We attempted to bring the holographic systems up again today—that was a mistake.”

  “I saw what happened to the lights—I was afraid it was Defoe all over again. I think the ship’s in about the same shape as her crew.”

  She nodded. “Well, there’s something they won’t mind. I got word: Starfleet’s awarded Extended Tour Ribbons for everyone aboard.”

  “That’s the least they should get. Anybody who helped get that saucer section aloft is an honorary engineer in my book.” He looked to her. “How’s our acting chief science officer settling in?”

  “Connolly is . . . always right. And anxious for action.”

  “Before the Boundless, he was a little headstrong. I thought the last year would have humbled him some, and maybe it did, a little. But he seems to have taken his survival as a sign to push even harder. I just hope he doesn’t flame out.” He thought for a moment. “It’s probably not a big deal. It’s not a permanent step-up.”

  She nodded. “How long do you think Spock will be gone?”

  “However long it takes.”

  “He does have months and months of leave accumulated.”

  “I hope they can reach him. Nothing I’ve told him since K’davu has gotten much reaction. Not when I told him about the war—or when I said Discovery had been found.”

  “Oh, I think he’s hearing,” Una said, rubbing the back of her neck. “But maybe he’s like I was with the Rengru. He’s hearing too much.”

  He looked at her. “How?”

  “The Illyrians’ and the Vulcans’ minds aren’t that different. Hit them with anything that can make sense, and they’ll find a way to sort it out.”

  “But if it doesn’t make sense . . .”

  She took his hand. “They’re going to help him, Chris. And we’ll all get home, and you can ride a horse.”

  Pike took a deep breath. “Believe me, I’m going to take a few months and just—”

  “Captain, this is Nicola.”

  “That’s probably Boyce calling in,” he said to Una. “Have we received a signal, Lieutenant?”

  “Not one, sir. Seven.”

  Seven? “We’ll be there. Pike out.”

  Una and Pike looked at one another. “Seven? What could that mean?” she asked.

  “I know exactly what it means,” Pike said, already heading for the turbolift. “No rest for the weary.”

  Epilogue

  * * *

  Spock meditated.

  No, he could not.

  Earth. Qo’noS. Vulcan. Andoria.

  Earth. Qo’noS. Vulcan. Andoria.

  Time went forward.

  He saw backward.

  No, that wasn’t correct.

  He saw forward.

  Time went backward.

  No, that wasn’t logical.

  He could not meditate. Not here.

  Christopher Pike would take him home, to be helped.

  What home? No Earth. No Qo’noS. No Andoria.

  No Vulcan. No Vulcan. No Vulcan. No—

  No, not yet. It had not happened yet.

  When was “yet”? What time was it?

  What was time? Was he in it?

  He could not meditate.

  He had obligations.

  He could not meditate.

  Earth. Qo’noS. Vulcan. Andoria.

  Christopher Pike had obligations.

  Christopher Pike would take him to be helped.

  Then he would take Christopher Pike to be helped.

  It was not logical—but it felt correct.

  The story of Spock’s vision and Captain Christopher Pike’s response continues in Season Two of Star Trek: Discovery.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  * * *

  The first season of Discovery left a major blank to be filled: the period of the Klingon-Federation war when Starship Enterprise was not on the scene. I was delighted that Margaret Clark asked me to fill it, and appreciate all her work in editing the book. Thanks also go to Ed Schlesinger, Scott Pearson, and the whole Simon & Schuster team.

  There is no book without Kirsten Beyer, fellow Trek novelist and staff writer on Star Trek: Discovery. She somehow carved time during the second season’s shooting schedule for extensive conversations with me about what the Enterprise characters might be doing during their first-season exile. My appreciation also goes to John Van Citters and the staff at CBS for keeping me in the loop on the series as it was being written and shot.

  My first brush with Discovery came at the very beginning, when David Mack asked my thoughts on his plans for the first novel in the line, Desperate Hours. That book, which includes Pike and Spock in prominent roles, was helpful in writing this one, as were many others that touched on Pike’s Enterprise.

  Thanks go to Brent Frankenhoff for proofreading—and much appreciation, as ever, to proofreader and Number One on my bridge, Meredith Miller. Thanks also to Allyn Gibson for a timely assist.

  Ken Barnes, one of my oldest friends and the person who really got me into Star Trek eons ago, helped immeasurably by participating in my thought experiment about the predicament Enterprise’s saucer section finds itself in. Another contemporary, Army vet and Trek fan Michael Singleton (who shares a name and rank with the title of D
aniel Defoe’s follow-up to Crusoe), helped greatly as a sounding board on the Boundless and their ways. When the stuff of your car-ride debates in high school finds a way into your professional work, you’re under a lucky star!

  Don't miss these other thrilling Star Trek books!

  Star Trek: Discovery: Desperate Hours

  Star Trek: Discovery: Drastic Measures

  Star Trek: Discovery: Fear Itself

  Star Trek: Discovery: The Way to the Stars

  The Antares Maelstrom

  The Captain's Oath

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  * * *

  John Jackson Miller is the New York Times bestselling author of the acclaimed Star Trek: Prey trilogy (Hell’s Heart, The Jackal’s Trick, The Hall of Heroes) and the novels Star Trek: The Next Generation: Takedown; Star Wars: A New Dawn; Star Wars: Kenobi; Star Wars: Knight Errant; Star Wars: Lost Tribe of the Sith—The Collected Stories; and fifteen Star Wars graphic novels, as well as the original work Overdraft: The Orion Offensive. He has also written the eNovella Star Trek: Titan: Absent Enemies. A comics industry historian and analyst, he has written for franchises including Halo, Conan, Iron Man, Indiana Jones, Battlestar Galactica, Mass Effect, and The Simpsons. He lives in Wisconsin with his wife, two children, and far too many comic books.

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  Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/John-Jackson-Miller

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