Star Trek: Enterprise, The First Adventure by Vonda N. McIntyre

Author:Vonda N. McIntyre
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Star Trek, Fiction
ISBN: 9780671730321
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1976-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

Jim tossed in his bunk. He sat up in the darkness and squinted at the chronometer. Thirty minutes to go. He thought he should lie down again and sleep—or at least pretend to sleep—rather than fidget just because his ship was nearing the Phalanx. No official craft of the Klingon oligarchy had attacked a Starfleet vessel in the Phalanx since the completion of Starbase 13. They were unlikely to begin now. Even raiders confined themselves to sneak attacks on undefended traders. At the very worst, one of the raiders might swoop in for a look. Even if some fool did attack a constellation-class starship, Jim would have plenty of warning from the sensors, plenty of time to get up and dress at leisure and go to the bridge.

For all those reasons, Jim had decided not to change the Enterprise’s normal routine.

Now, though, he had second thoughts. Suppose the [188] bandits—unlikely as the possibility sounded—formed an alliance against Phalanx traffic? Suppose—one time out of a million—the oligarchy attempted a surprise attack?

He gave up trying to sleep, threw aside the bedclothes, dressed, and headed for the bridge.

Most of the time, unless emergency conditions prevailed, the Enterprise worked on a regular diurnal rhythm. Jim had chosen to maintain it for the entry into the Phalanx. Most of the crew served the high watch; a skeleton staff worked middle and low watches.

Jim arrived at the dim and quiet bridge. The glow of screens provided an eerie light; the pulse of gossiping machines provided the only sound.

A single ensign stood low watch, ready to recall the full staff at any unusual occurrence. The ensign glanced back when Jim stepped from the lift.

“Captain!” The ensign vacated the captain’s seat.

“Good morning, Ensign—?”

“Chekov, sir. Pavel Andrei’ich Chekov.”

Jim felt as if he ought to explain his presence; on the other hand, he was the captain. He was not required to justify his actions to his subordinates. He settled into his place, while the ensign took the navigator’s position.

Jim inspected the tactical display on the viewscreen. The Enterprise headed straight into the concentric circles that led down the perspective of the Phalanx.

“What’s our ETA into the Phalanx, Ensign Chekov?”

“That depends, captain. Display is most misleading, sir. Starfleet Command, Federation Survey, Klingon Empire—all choose different borders.”

“Starfleet borders will serve our purpose.”

“Yes, sir. Starfleet borders overlap Imperial claim; territory is in dispute. ETA 0619. Ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chekov.”

The bridge doors slid open. Commander Spock paused.

“Good morning, Mr. Spock.”

“Good morning, captain.”

He took his place. Screens lit up around him.

“What are you working on, Mr. Spock?”

“Nothing specific, captain.”

[189] “Are you ready to run the gauntlet?”

“We are unlikely to encounter harrying, captain; the local bandits prefer easier targets.”

So Commander Spock is no more ready to admit he’s nervous about going in there than I am, Jim thought. But if he thinks I ought to have called an alert, he’s not about to say so—tactless he might be, and indifferent to other people’s feelings. But he’s neither stupid nor indifferent to his own interests. Telling your captain you think he’s a fool would not be .

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