Mission to Horatius

by Mack Reynolds

  STAR TREK

  MISSION TO HORATIUS

  Authorized edition based on the popular television series

  by Mack Reynolds

  illustrated by Sparky Moore

  POCKET BOOKS New York London Toronto Sydney Tokyo Singapore

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  Copyright 1968 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved. Copyright renewed 1996 by Paramount Pictures

  STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures.

  This book is published by Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc., under exclusive license from Paramount Pictures.

  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, NY 10020

  ISBN 0-671-02812-X

  This Pocket Books hardcover printing February 1999

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  CONTENTS

  PREFACE4

  AN INTRODUCTION5

  1. SECRET MISSION6

  2. MYSTERY PLUS MYSTERY12

  3. BACK TO THE STONE AGE16

  4. ON TO MYTHRA23

  5. WELCOME-WITH RESERVATIONS30

  6. RATNAPPED39

  7. NUMMER EIN46

  8. MYSTERIES SOLVED54

  9. MICKEY AGAIN62

  AFTERMATH68

  PREFACE

  So it's 1970, and I'm eight years old and rummaging around in the dusty back shelves of my local used-book store, where I could get-at prices an eight-year-old could afford-such treasures as out-of-date Hardy Boys novels, Tom Swift novels, and even the occasional and much prized novels about Tom Corbett, Space Cadet.

  On this day, not noticeably different from many others spent the same way, I ran across a slightly-worse-for-wear copy of a Star Trek novel called Mission to Horatius.

  I had only recently begun to watch Star Trek on a regular basis, at six every weekday evening, and was already entranced. Finding a book devoted to Kirk, Spock, and the others was a delight. It was quickly snatched off the shelves, quickly purchased, and even more quickly read, or rather devoured.

  It's twenty-eight years later as I write this, and the path this novel started me on finds me in a position to rescue it from the dusty back shelf once again. Presented now in the twentieth anniversary of Pocket Books' Star Trek novel line, in as close to the original form as we can make it, this edition of Star Trek Mission to Horatius is dedicated to every Star Trek fan who was ever eight years old.

  -John Ordover

  Executive Editor

  AN INTRODUCTION

  When man first reached out into space, he began slowly, slowly. Sputnik 1 and Explorer 1 came first. Then, in less than a year, the first animal, the dog Laika, shortly to be followed by the first human in orbit And, more quickly, the first spacecraft to carry more than one person, the first crash landing on the moon, the first woman in space, the first spacewalk, the first landing of an unmanned spacecraft and televised shots of the lunar surface. The first this, the first that; and finally the first successful landing of man on the moon!

  Then came the real explosion. Man to the planets. Probes to Mars. Probes to Venus. The first landings on other worlds, the first bases, the first colonies.

  And then, seemingly overnight-with the discovery of the space warp, of hyperlight speeds-mankind was suddenly everywhere. Only a century or two earlier he had measured his distances in miles. Suddenly the term "parsec" came into everyday use. A parsec-3.262 times the distance light can travel in a year's time, or 19.2 trillion miles.

  The closest star to our own sun is Proxima Centauri, 4.2 light years away, and suddenly it became a neighbor.

  The galaxy to which our solar system belongs-sometimes known as the Milky Way-consists of uncounted billions of suns and possibly millions of worlds quite like our own Earth. And it was these that man began to seek out and colonize, as once the explorers sought out, in their simple wooden ships, new islands and continents to settle.

  But each new world-even the Class-M planets, which were the most similar to our own-was at least slightly different, and the colonists from Earth found it necessary to adapt to fit the new conditions. By the time the United Federation of Planets began to patrol the galaxy, there was much that was strange.

  Of the strange things man finds in space, however, one of the strangest is man himself when he must adapt to new environments. Whole sets of new problems arose. Among these was the need for man to discipline himself in the protection of other life forms and other cultures, other civilizations foreign to his way of life on Earth.

  Thus it was that starships such as the United Space Ship Enterprise became necessary to survey new sectors of the galaxy, to assist scientific investigations, to stimulate trade between worlds, to prevent conflicts, to pave man's way, and sometimes even to become involved in relatively minor items, such as searching for a lost explorer, prospector, or schoolmistress....

  1. SECRET MISSION

  Dr. Leonard McCoy, senior ship's surgeon of the U.S.S. Enterprise, stormed from the turbo-lift elevator which opened onto the starship's bridge and glared about. The scene, however, couldn't have been more normal. Captain Kirk sat musing in his command chair, facing the large bridge viewing screen. Directly in front of him, also facing the screen, sat the navigator, Ensign Chekov, and Helmsman Sulu. In the outer circular elevation behind them, various crewmen and ship's officers stood or sat before their control panels. Immediately to the doctor's right was Communications Officer Uhura, her trim eyebrows a bit high at his precipitate entry. Immediately across from the elevator and behind the captain, Commander Spock, the ship's science officer, sat at his library computer station, also looking mildly surprised at the doctor's obviously upset condition. Mr. Spock, with his long face, his pointed ears, his satanic eyes, never allowed himself to show more than mild surprise; it would have been beneath his dignity as a supposedly emotionless native of the planet Vulcan.

  Captain James T. Kirk looked up as the ship's doctor marched toward him. "Yes, Bones?" he said. "Something bothering you?"

  Although he had had wide experience in the Star-fleet Service, James Kirk was a young man in his early thirties. An Academy graduate, he held the rank of starship captain, the youngest man in the fleet to do so. He prided himself on the fact that he had won his command solely through his own efforts. He was a handsome specimen, with a wide, generous mouth but with the seriousness that the responsibility of his rank demanded. Even his closest intimates, such as Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, and the other senior officers of the Enterprise, seldom jested with their captain.

  Dr. McCoy stood before him now and put his fists on his hips as though in belligerence. "Look here, Jim," he said, "I demand to know where we're going."

  The attention of everyone on the command bridge was on him, but he ignored them all as he glowered into Captain Kirk's face.

  Kirk looked at him strangely. "Why, Bones?"

  "Why! I'll tell you why! This ship has no business being in space! That's why!"

  Mr. Spock replied, "To the contrary, Dr. McCoy. The Enterprise was built in space and is much too large ever to land."

  Dr. McCoy turned his glare in that direction. "You know what I mean, Spock. We should not be on a mission at this time. We should be in orbit around some Starfleet Co
mmand Center for a period of rest and reconditioning of the ship. More than half the crew are due for extended leaves. The chief steward tells me that the commissary is shockingly low on supplies. Scotty tells me that his section is in need of various repairs. I want to know where we're going and how much longer we expect to be in deep space."

  Captain Kirk shifted in his chair and allowed himself a slight frown. Dr. McCoy was possibly his closest friend and the only man on board who called the captain by his first name.

  He said, "I repeat, Bones-why? What is this sudden interest on your part in the performance of this ship's duties-that is, beyond the workings of the medical department?"

  The other snapped, "My interests do not extend beyond the medical department, Jim. That's what I'm talking about."

  The captain thought about that He said, "I see what you mean, Bones. Space strain? The confinement syndrome?"

  "Worse than that. Head Nurse Chapel has detected the first symptoms of cafard in Yeoman Thomkins."

  Captain James Kirk winced.

  Helmsman Sulu looked over his shoulder, his alert face dismayed. "Cafard?" he blurted.

  "That will be all, Mr. Sulu," Kirk said. He looked over at his science officer. "Mr. Spock, comments?"

  Spock said, "Space cafard. Compounded of claustrophobia, ennui-boredom, if you will-and the instinctive dread of a species, born on a planet surface, of living outside its native environment. The instinctive fear of deep space. Formerly the fear of being in free fall, though that seldom applies any longer. A mania that evidently is highly contagious. It is said that in the early days of space travel, cafard could sweep through a ship in a matter of hours, until all on board were raging maniacs, and-N

  Captain Kirk said dryly, "I did not require a complete rehashing of the illness, Mr. Spock."

  The science officer finished, however. "It does not, of course, apply to Vulcans. Only to the less adjusted and less well balanced humanoid species."

  McCoy snorted. "Unhappily, Spock, you're the only Vulcan aboard the Enterprise. The rest of us are subject to cafard."

  "All right, all right," Kirk said. He looked at Spock again. "The most recent case known?"

  "Only last year-on the Space Scout Westmoreland. It was found drifting, the whole crew dead. The investigation determined space cafard."

  "Dead! Of what?"

  "They had killed each other, Captain. Evidently in their madness."

  Lieutenant Uhura couldn't refrain from asking, "Killed each other? How?"

  Spock looked at the pretty young lieutenant, his face characteristically empty of emotion. "They tore each other apart with their bare hands, Lieutenant"

  Uhura closed her eyes in pain and shuddered.

  Kirk said in irritation, "The Westmoreland, if I recall, Mr. Spock, was a four-manner without artificial gravity and consequently subject to free fall. The Enterprise is a starship with a crew of four hundred and thirty persons, a gravitational support system so that Earthside conditions are duplicated, ample recreational facilities, and a completely equipped and staffed ship's sick bay. Do you know of any starship class spacecraft that has ever succumbed to cafard?"

  Spock said, "No, Captain."

  Captain Kirk looked at his ship's doctor. "Well, Bones-comments ?"

  Dr. McCoy said testily, "There can always be a first. This ship has been on continual patrol for a year -long past the normal period to be spent in deep space. Our supplies are shockingly low."

  "We took on supplies at Space Station K-Eight"

  "As you well know, Jim, a space station is not a star base. It lacks the facilities. We took on emergency supplies of fuel and basic food. We did not take on new recreational equipment. We did not have shore leave. The officers and crew were not allowed to journey to their home worlds to visit families, wives, husbands, or sweethearts. It was no more than an emergency stop. Our people need fresh air; they need to participate in sports impossible in the confines of the Enterprise. They need to look at mountains, lakes, rivers, and oceans, walk city streets, go to shows, restaurants, have a good time. They're normal, flesh-and-blood people, Jim. They can't spend their whole lives in the confines of a starship. They go stale. Finally they get sick. I'm warning you, Jim. Cafard is the farthest thing from a joke in the medical book."

  Captain Kirk's face worked. "I obey orders, Bones. Like any other ship's captain in the Starfleet"

  "They're the wrong orders, then!"

  "I didn't issue them."

  Dr. McCoy demanded, "I still want to know where we're going. How much longer do you expect to be in deep space?"

  Kirk said, looking at him evenly, "I don't know."

  Even Spock blinked at that.

  Captain Kirk looked around the bridge. "All right, now hear this. All of you. I am under verbal orders only. We were scheduled, as you know, to return to Star Base Twelve for the protracted shore leaves, replenishing of ship's supplies, and the repairs that Bones has pointed out have become necessary during the past cruise. While en route we were redirected to Space Station K-Eight to take on emergency supplies. There it was revealed to me that a subspace distress call had been received by Starfleet Command."

  McCoy snorted, "But why us? Why not some other ship?"

  The captain looked at him. "We were the nearest".

  "The distances can't be as great as all that!"

  "Evidently they are, Bones."

  Dr. McCoy was unhappy and argumentative. "But where are we heading? What was this distress call?"

  "I don't know."

  All eyes were on him now. On the face of it, this made no sense at all. Spock lifted his satanic eyebrows in question.

  Captain Kirk said wearily, "On my desk is a sealed tape. When we reach our immediate destination, NGC four hundred, I am to open it"

  It was Spock who worded it for them all. "Very interesting. As everyone knows, NGC four hundred is about as far into the galaxy as the Federation has penetrated. So far as we are concerned, there is nothing beyond."

  "There is always something beyond, Mr. Spock. True, neither the United Federation of Planets, the Klingon Empire, nor the Romulan Confederation has penetrated into the quadrant beyond NGC four hundred. However, at the present rate of expansion of all three, it cannot be too very long before we do."

  The doctor said testily, "If we have to go as far as NGC four hundred before this mysterious mission even begins, there is simply no saying how much time will be involved. I repeat, I demand that we turn back."

  Captain Kirk looked at him for a long, empty moment before answering. Then he said, "Dr. McCoy, the Enterprise has a proud tradition. Since I took over its command from Captain Pike, it has never failed to take any assignment ordered, no matter what excuses might be available. I have no intention, Doctor, of ending that proud tradition now."

  The glare had returned to the ship doctor's eye. "Very well," he snapped. "But I request that my position be logged."

  Kirk looked at him in surprise. He shrugged. "That is your right, Doctor."

  He reached forward, touched a switch, and then said in a flat tone, "Captain's log, star date"-he cast his eyes up at the chronometer-calendar on the bulkhead -"three-four-seven-five, point three. We are on a secret mission, the nature of which will not be revealed to us until we have reached the position NGC four hundred. Senior Ship's Surgeon Leonard McCoy has officially put himself on record as opposed to continuing on the grounds that the personnel of the Enterprise are in no condition to remain in space."

  Captain Kirk flicked the switch again, ending his log entry, and turned back to the doctor. "Bones," he said, "I will make one concession to your fears. We'll speed up as much as possible."

  He flicked another switch and looked up into the intercom viewing screen which faded in on an empty command chair in the engineering section.

  Kirk said crisply, "Lieutenant Commander Scott, please."

  The screen faded again and then flicked to a smaller compartment which was a maze of electronic equipment. Three men
in coveralls were working over a confusion of wires, tubes, and circuits.

  Senior Engineering Officer Montgomery Scott, an electronic wrench in one hand, a tiny power connector in the other, looked up impatiently until he saw who it was. Then he came to his feet and looked into the screen.

  "Aye, Captain?" He said over his shoulder to his two engineers, "Bide a wee, lads"

  Kirk said, "Scotty, we've been proceeding at a standard warp factor five. Please increase this to warp factor seven."

  "Seven?" The chief engineer scowled.

  "That is correct" Kirk began to extend his hand to flick off the intercom.

  "Wait a minute, sir," Scott said worriedly.

  "What is it, Scotty?"

  "An order's an order, sir, and if necessary, of course...." He hesitated.

  Captain Kirk could see that the craggy-featured space engineer was unhappy. He well knew the other's fierce pride in the engine department of the ship. And he also knew how much the Scotsman hated to admit that anything in his department wasn't functioning at top level.

  Kirk said, "Well? What is it, Scotty?"

  Scott took a deep breath. His voice was almost surly. "Captain, we've been on continuous patrol for a solar year, and .. . well, sir, I hate to push the engines beyond our present speed." The Scottish burr in the engineer's voice was obvious, as it always was when he was under pressure.

  Kirk stared at him. "We've been proceeding at warp five, Scotty. I fully realize that maximum safe speed of this vessel is warp six, but that it is capable of warp eight, under considerable strain. Do you mean to tell me-"

  The senior engineering officer said doggedly, "You are the captain, sir. I'll give you warp six, if you feel it necessary. However, any warp factor beyond that is against my better judgment"

  "We're in a hurry, Scotty."

  "Aye, sir. Obviously. However, if you order me to proceed at a factor greater than warp six, it is over my protest, considering the present condition of the outboard engine nacelles, both of which need replacing."