STAR TREK: TOS #12 - Mutiny on the Enterprise Page 5

  “The magnetic bottles?” Kirk asked anxiously. The thought of those magnetic shields rupturing and letting out the prodigious power of the matter-antimatter reaction made him pause. The Enterprise wouldn’t explode—it’d vanish as surely as if they’d been instantaneously thrust into the core of a sun.

  “They are holding fine, Captain Kirk,” said Heather McConel. “It’s that we kenna this mission.”

  “You’re questioning the purpose of our going to Ammdon?” Kirk stood stock-still. Shock shattered his composure. McConel was the last he’d expected to ever question a command decision.

  “Aye, Captain, Heather speaks for all of us.”

  “Scotty?” The shock turned him cold all over.

  “Captain, the Enterprise will be destroyed if we continue on. There’s got to be an end to this suicide mission. I ordered the engines to be cycled down.”

  “Spock is correcting that,” said Kirk, his resolve returning. “What you’re doing is disobeying a direct order, Scotty. You realize what that can mean?”

  “Aye, court-martial. But it’s nae better bein’ atoms scattered amongst the stars.”

  “Mr. Scott, you will return to your post. You and Chief [54] McConel will put as much power to the engines, you will develop as much speed, as possible, you will do your duty. Those are direct orders. Do you understand me?”

  “Aye, Captain, but—”

  “Mister Scott, there are no ‘buts’ in this matter. Do your duty, sir!”

  James Kirk turned and stalked out, not wanting to see what reaction his orders had. He almost feared open disobedience. And Scotty was the last one of the crew he’d ever want to court-martial for failure to perform his duty.

  “What’s happening? Why’s this damned Ammdon-Jurnamoria mess affecting my crew?” But, deep down, Kirk knew the answer. Something buried in his psyche prevented him from squarely facing it.

  “I can’t believe it, Spock. They’re not at their posts. It’s as if they don’t care about their work.” Kirk looked around the bridge and saw several tight clusters of officers, ignoring their duty stations and quietly talking among themselves.

  “Distraction is a human condition I have studied but do not fully understand. I fail to comprehend how anyone can lose concentration while engaged on a project.”

  “Get them back to their stations.” Kirk watched as Spock slowly orbited the bridge and chased the crew back to work. As the Vulcan science officer had noted, the crew did not openly disobey. That was a nightmare of Kirk’s that had little basis in reality. Even after they had returned to their posts, however, they worked in a desultory fashion, obviously engrossed in—what?

  “Do you wish to see my report on ship’s status?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, Spock.” Kirk bent over the computer console and watched the visual display rather than allowing Spock to turn it to verbal. He wanted as few on the bridge as possible to share the report. After a few lines, Kirk was [55] glad he’d decided on such secrecy. The status of most ship’s systems was far from optimal.

  “Explain, Spock. Why is everything falling apart? It’s not simply because we didn’t get rebuilt while in dry dock. Systems like life support were in excellent condition.”

  “They are no longer. Neglect, Captain. Inattention to detail. It seems that the crew is more inclined to gather and talk in a clandestine fashion.”

  “The canceled shore leave. That must be it. Post a bulletin, Spock, informing all crew members that they’ll receive an extra two weeks’ leave when we return to starbase.”

  “Captain, this inattention runs more sinister than tiredness or disappointment over lack of leave.”

  “Explain, Spock.” Kirk didn’t like the ominous implications of his science officer’s statement.

  “I fear that open disobedience will turn to mutiny.”

  Kirk snorted in disgust at the idea. “Spock, be realistic. My crew will not mutiny. Why should they? The Enterprise is the finest ship in Starfleet. I work them hard, but the rewards are great. Advancement is better on board, training is better, just about everything is better.”

  “The systems are malfunctioning because of neglect, Captain. The crew is not following standing orders concerning maintenance, and many are agitating for a union.”

  “What do you mean by a ‘union’? I don’t understand.”

  “It is a term employed during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries on Earth. A group of workers with mutual concerns and complaints elects one of their number to address the grievances with those in a position of power and able to alter the conditions.”

  “Mr. Spock, this is not a democracy. We are a ship responsible to Starfleet. Voting on every decision is not only impractical, it is impossible and highly dangerous. We must rely on experts in various fields. While I am [56] knowledgeable about engines, I cannot repair them like Scotty can. Likewise, my training and experience are in command. I am ordered to get the negotiating team to Ammdon by my superiors and must do it to the best of my ability. Those orders are not open to veto by a vote of the crew.”

  “You do not have to explain, Captain. I merely provided a datum requested.”

  “Don’t get touchy on me now, Spock. I’ve just never even heard of such ...” Words failed him as he looked around his bridge. Sulu and Chekov argued in voices too low to be overheard. Uhura and the on-duty bridge engineering officer carried on a similar discussion. “What’s going on?” Kirk ended up saying, feeling helpless.

  “It is my belief,” said Spock in his clipped tones, “that the crew of the Enterprise is preparing to mutiny.”

  Chapter Four

  Captain’s Log, Stardate 4822.9

  I have tolerated the crew’s growing inattention to duty long enough. While the strain of maintaining a starship is considerable, the Enterprise crew is one of the best in Starfleet Command. It is the best. Spock and I must monitor constantly all vital systems to prevent disaster. It is inconceivable to me that postponed shore leave is the root cause of this dereliction of duty, but it is the only plausible reason. I will assemble my section heads and put a stop to this at once. Otherwise, we will arrive in the Ammdon-Jurnamoria system in a condition little better than a decrepit garbage scow.

  James Kirk sat in his quarters, ears straining to pick up the bootheels clicking in the corridor just beyond his door. [58] Increased traffic indicated that his orders were being followed—at least for the moment. He’d come down hard on several of the junior officers when he’d discovered them in the wardroom talking rather than at their duty stations. While the ripples from his discipline would soon die out to nothing, he hoped that the momentum gathered from once again performing their tasks adequately would continue.

  But he didn’t kid himself too much on this score.

  Spock had once again warned him of the possibility of mutiny. Whether he refused to believe such dire things of the Enterprise crew or whether his own ego got tangled up in it and he couldn’t consider it happening to him, he discounted such as fantasy.

  “Fantasy,” he muttered to himself, eyes focused on the far side of his quarters. His attention slowly pulled in closer to the computer readout screen. The report silently marching across the face unnerved him. He’d punched in a request to the library computer for all instances of mutiny aboard Starfleet vessels.

  There had been only a handful in Starfleet’s history, but those five mutinies chilled Kirk to the bone. The reports were, of necessity, incomplete and biased, but he managed to infer much that had never reached the computer data banks. The crews mutinying had all been pushed beyond the limits of human endurance, more demanded of them than might be expected. Aboard the USS Farallones the captain had been a martinet in addition to ordering his crew into a potentially hazardous condition in the demilitarized zone between the Romulan Empire and the Federation. The captain, a career officer named MacCallum, had been killed, but the ringleaders of the mutiny had been sent to a penal colony for life, no rehabilitation considered possible. What galled
Kirk the most was that the mutineers had been right [59] and MacCallum wrong—his actions might have triggered war between the Romulans and the Federation.

  Still, the Farallones crew had been given orders and they had willfully disobeyed.

  “Am I leading the Enterprise into a war?” he asked aloud. “I have my orders. The diplomatic team is the finest the Federation can send. They intend to prevent a war, not start one. There’s no reason for the crew to show such antipathy to the mission.”

  His words failed to comfort him or convince him of the tightness of his position. Kirk glanced at the chronometer and saw that the time had arrived. He rose, smoothed his tunic and left his quarters, heading for the wardroom.

  “As you were,” he said automatically as the door whispered shut behind him. Usually his officers snapped to attention when he entered the room. This time many of them were too busy muttering among themselves to even notice his presence. He ignored their oversight of protocol.

  “Captain, all section heads are present or accounted for.” Spock’s eyes darted about the large table at several vacant chairs. Kirk wanted to inquire as to those missing but didn’t. Spock had said they were accounted for. That had to be good enough. For the moment.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, there is a growing misapprehension among crew members as to who exactly is in command of the Enterprise. “ He paused a few seconds to make certain he had their undivided attention. He did. “I am in command of this vessel. Do I make myself clear on this point?”

  “Uh, sir, isn’t that apparent?” asked Lieutenant Patten, the head of security. “You’re the captain, after all.”

  “That seems to have been overlooked recently, Lieutenant. I’m referring to the shoddiness of performance on the [60] parts of all the crew. I’m not singling out any individual section. I don’t have to—all are equally guilty of what I consider one of the worst possible infractions of Starfleet discipline.”

  “That’s unfair, sir,” spoke up Commander Buchanan. She rose and leaned forward on the palms of her hands in an unconscious duplication of the pose Kirk had struck. “We’ve about reached the end of our endurance. Now that you’re leading us into a battle zone—”

  “Who told you that, Commander? Who?” When the woman didn’t answer, Kirk straightened and peered from one face to the next. What he saw didn’t please him in the least. There was outright skepticism about the mission of the Enterprise. “I want to inform you all—officially—that we are not going to the Ammdon star system to foment war. Rather, our purpose is as it has always been: we are promoting peace among all intelligent races.”

  Someone at the table gave a derisive snort.

  “The diplomatic team aboard the Enterprise is specially chosen for their skill in such negotiations. There will be no war. If we arrive in the Ammdon-Jurnamoria system in time to prevent it.”

  “The Romulans are already there,” one of the officers said. “We’ll have to fight it out with them. If we even try, they’ll blow us into cosmic dust. The ship’s not up to combat.”

  “Mister,” Kirk answered coldly, “the ship will not be entering combat. The Romulans do not occupy the Ammdon system and will not have the opportunity if the Federation’s diplomatic mission is successful. It will fail—if you do not shape up those in your sections. You are Starfleet officers. You are expected to obey commands and to promote and protect the peace, in all sectors of the galaxy.”

  [61] “Fine words, Captain, but that’s not the way it is,” said Commander Buchanan. “When we show up, that’ll be Ammdon’s signal to launch the war. It’ll look as if we’re supporting them. That will force Jurnamoria into an alliance with the Romulans, and war will be declared just a few minutes after the treaty is drafted.”

  “You are too certain about this. All of you. And the words come out sounding the same, as if it isn’t your own idea. Dr. McCoy.” Kirk faced his friend, who shook his head and glowered at the exchange that had just occurred.

  “Yes, Captain?”

  “You were the first to bring this interesting theory to my attention. Where did you get the idea that we would precipitate war rather than prevent it?”

  “Why, it’s my own conclusion. Hell, Jim, it’s as plain as horns on a bull.”

  Kirk cut him off. “I also heard a similar argument from the alien we discovered in the wreck. Did Lorelei speak to you about this situation before you came to me?”

  “Well, she might have. But what’s that got to do—”

  “And you others. Think about it. Did Lorelei sway your thinking?” Kirk fought the tightness in his throat that came when even mentioning the alien woman. So potent a hold prevented him from being fully rational when he spoke of her, yet he had to. The fate of their mission depended on getting his officers straightened out. The fate of the Enterprise also depended on it. That, as much as anything else, kept him talking, kept their attention to the matter at hand, kept him from succumbing to the woman’s mysterious power.

  “I spoke with her,” said Lieutenant Patten. “But it wasn’t about Ammdon. We just ... talked. I like her.” A half grin crossed the man’s face, giving him a slightly comical [62] expression. No one laughed. Most of them had similar smiles as they thought about Lorelei.

  “Liking her has nothing to do with whether or not we carry out our orders from Starfleet Command.”

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but I believe that might have a decided bearing on it.” Spock raised one slender finger and placed it alongside his cheek. The light shining from the computer screen gave him a demonic appearance, the flickering turning his sallow skin a pale blue and highlighting the arched eyebrows.

  “Go on, Mr. Spock. I’m interested in your theories.”

  “Not a theory but rather a conjecture. We know nothing of Lorelei’s home planet, this Hyla. We know little of her culture except what she has revealed. From her title Speaker, we must infer that she has some ability in that regard.”

  “Brilliant,” muttered McCoy. “And for this I left my surgery?”

  Kirk ignored the almost-whispered comment and Spock only cast a sidelong glance at the doctor before continuing. “She is a first-rate orator capable of swaying those who listen to her. Her pacifistic views were expressed soon after we rescued her. It is plausible that she promulgates this philosophy so effectively that it is beginning to affect the crew’s performance.”

  “Isn’t that a bit farfetched?” Kirk leaned back in his chair and stared at his science officer. “You’re attributing superhuman powers to her.”

  “Not superhuman, Captain, but definitely alien powers. Dr. McCoy will testify that she survived in a spacecraft bathed with deadly radiations far longer than any human or Vulcan could have endured. Her life-form readings are different in ways that the doctor is unable to explain.”

  “She lives off our atmosphere and our food well enough,” [63] protested McCoy. “You’re making her out to be some sideshow freak. Leastways, she doesn’t have pointed ears.”

  “Bones, quiet.” Kirk shot the doctor a second look that stifled all further response. “Spock, do you have any proof for these allegations? If what you’re saying is true, Lorelei is quite dangerous.”

  “Not physically dangerous, sir. But she is committed to a philosophy at odds with the course we follow.”

  “We’re trying to maintain peace, dammit. Why is everyone claiming the reverse?”

  “Anger will gain you nothing and clouds your logical processes.” Kirk started to retort, then saw that Spock was right. He gestured for the Vulcan to continue. Spock inclined his head slightly and explained his position. “She has adequate reason to believe we say one thing and will do another. She is as much a stranger to our ways as we are to hers. Her logic tells her that she is right; to be true to her beliefs she uses this ... talent ... of hers to alter opinion among the crew.”

  “That is ascribing powers to her I don’t believe she has, Mr. Spock.” Captain Kirk studied the set faces of his officers and came to a conclusion.
Something had to be done, and it wouldn’t happen here. “I am authorizing a shipwide debate over this matter between Lorelei and Ambassador Zarv. I have full confidence that the ambassador will adequately put all fears to rest as to the purpose of our mission. See to the arrangements, Mr. Spock.”

  The only response he received was a slight facial twitch from his science officer. That upset Kirk more than if Spock had openly opposed him. He quickly stood and left the room.

  He’d done the right thing. He was sure of it.

  * * *

  [64] “This is ill advised, Captain. I wish you had discussed it with me prior to announcing the debate to the other officers.”

  “Spock, you lack faith.”

  “Sir, I do not lack confidence in my abilities, only in those demonstrated throughout the crew. However, this is not a satisfactory course to follow given the potentially mutinous feelings aboard ship.”

  “There will be no further talk of mutiny,” snapped Kirk. “It’s something that happens if you speak of it too often.”

  “That is superstition and illogical in the extreme. I offer facts.”

  Before Kirk replied, a familiar snorting noise boomed down the hall and burst into the room where technicians had set up the video link required to carry the debate to all sections of the ship.

  “Kirk,” bellowed Ambassador Zarv, “why am I supposed to debate with, of all things, that emaciated wisp of a child? What do you use for brains besides space dust?”

  “Ambassador, the situation aboard ship is unique in my experience. I felt that an informal discussion of our policies, of our peace mission, of what the Federation hopes to accomplish by sending one of its top negotiators to Ammdon, would be helpful. Lorelei cannot possibly defend any contrary position, can she?”

  “Of course not.”

  Behind the Tellarite ambassador, Donald Lorritson smiled at Kirk’s maneuverings. The man obviously appreciated how the captain had diplomatically herded Zarv into carrying through with the debate.