Star Trek: Enterprise Logs

by Carol Greenburg

  “We had a little disagreement with the Klingons,” Pike said.

  “It looks like you must have disagreed with their entire fleet. Do you need backup?”

  Pike started to reply, but he coughed and had to hold his breath for a moment to stop it. When he could speak again, he said, “Thanks, but we’ve got the situation under control.”

  Wilson looked at the bridge again, then shrugged and said, “I hope so. But I somehow doubt you’ll be up to hosting an alien observer anytime soon.”

  Pike suppressed a groan. Of all the duties he hated, escorting alien dignitaries was the one he hated most. It was also one of the most important, especially now with the Klingons building their own empire to challenge the Federation. Every new race could become either an ally or an enemy, depending on who treated them well and who treated them poorly.

  He looked at the repairs underway around him. The Enterprise wouldn’t be beautiful anytime soon, but it would be serviceable, and duty was duty. “Who, when, and where?” he asked.

  Wilson let the faintest of smiles play across his face. He’d known Pike would volunteer, or he wouldn’t have mentioned it. “They’re called Eremoids,” he said. “They’re independent, reclusive, and touchy as hell. They’re also sitting on one of the best lithium deposits in the Alpha quadrant, but our attempts to negotiate a mining agreement with them have been a total disaster. They’ve pretty much told us to get lost, but now one of them has suddenly asked to watch a Federation ship in action. He says he wants to see how humans work together to solve problems.” Wilson chuckled. “Looks like he’ll have a prime opportunity for that, eh, Captain?”

  “True enough. And I suppose if we impress him enough, the Eremoids will reconsider our request for mining rights?”

  “He hasn’t promised anything, but it would certainly help our cause.”

  “All right, that leaves when and where.”

  “Starbase 7, as soon as you can get there.”

  Pike turned and looked over his right shoulder at Number One, who sat at Spock’s science station while her helm controls were being repaired. Her thick, dark hair stood up in front where she had been running her fingers through her bangs in frustration as she helped to coordinate the repair work. “Travel time?” he asked her. Normally he would ask José Tyler, the navigator, for course and speed information, but Tyler’s console was right next to hers and just as fried. Pike had sent him downship to help where he could until Burnie got his station on line again.

  Number One consulted the sector map at the science station. “Three days at warp 6,” she replied.

  “What about warp 7?”

  From under the helm console, Burnie said, “If you want warp 7, you’ll have to do without lights.”

  That wasn’t exactly what Pike wanted Starfleet Command to hear. He hid his annoyance behind an opportune cough. “We’ll be there in two days. With our lights on.”

  Wilson smiled knowingly. “Very good. Wilson out.”

  When the starfield replaced his image, Number One asked, “Captain, do you really think this is a good idea? Half our critical systems will still be under repair. This alien will be able to see inside access hatches without even bothering to—”

  “We do have security protocols,” Pike reminded her.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Lieutenant Commander. We also have orders.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She turned back to her station, her cheeks growing red as she did.

  He looked back to the damage report, but it took him a moment to concentrate on the words displayed there. He hadn’t meant to slap her down quite so hard, but dammit, she’d been questioning orders. If the crew saw their second in command get away with that, it would erode discipline all through the ship. That on top of Burnie’s casual attitude in front of Starfleet reflected poorly on Pike’s leadership. Never mind that the crew had performed flawlessly in battle; they had let their hair down a little too far afterward, and those little lapses in discipline were what Wilson—and their new alien observer—would see if Pike allowed them to continue.

  The smoke tickled his throat again. This was really too much. “I’m going to go down to environmental and see if I can help get this air fit to breathe.” He stood up—and collided with Yeoman Colt, who dropped the thick datapad she had been about to hand him.

  “Yeoman, what have I told you about sneaking up behind me?”

  She was new on board, a mere slip of a girl straight out of the academy and way too eager to please. As she picked up the pad and tucked a stray wisp of her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, she said, “Yes, Sir. I mean you said not to, Sir. And I wasn’t, Sir. But the turbolift door is right there and the gap in the handrail is right behind your seat, Sir, and—”

  “I’m not interested in excuses; I’m interested in standing up without coming nose to … nose with my yeoman.” He took the pad, noted that it was an updated—and much longer—damage report, and dropped it on his chair to read later. He could state in one word the condition of his ship: bad.

  Two days later it looked a great deal better. The bridge crew were at their normal stations instead of beneath them, Burnie had retuned the engines for long-range travel, and the weapons systems were back on line and ready for more Klingons. The air was even breathable again, if still a bit heavy.

  Captain Pike smoothed the front of his dress uniform as he waited in transporter room one for the Eremoid. Yeoman Colt stood at his left, and Number One at his right. The transporter tech activated the beam, and a moment later the alien materialized in the shimmering column of light. His luggage, a single large duffel bag, materialized beside him.

  He was humanoid enough to trigger instinctive responses to his differences. Pike felt himself tense immediately when he saw the short, sharp horns curving upward from the alien’s dark brown temples. Number One shifted uncomfortably beside him, perhaps at the newcomer’s emerald green eyes set too wide apart in deep vertical slits, or at the pointed teeth he revealed when he smiled. Colt made no move, but when Pike glanced over at her he saw her nostrils flare and her skin flush. She had undoubtedly noticed the alien’s well-muscled physique, made quite evident by the skintight black-and-gold bodysuit he wore.

  “Welcome to the Enterprise,” Pike said, extending his hand. “I’m Captain Pike, this is Lieutenant Commander Lefler, my second in command, and this is Yeoman Colt. She’ll be your guide while you are on board.”

  The Eremoid examined Pike’s hand closely before reaching out with his own—six-fingered and equipped with sharp claws, Pike noted—and making a perfunctory handshake. “I am Verka,” he said. His voice was deep and resonant.

  “Starfleet Command tells me you’re interested in seeing how humans behave in action. Is that true?”

  Verka narrowed his eyes even further than before. “Of course it’s true. If you’re implying that I obtained my invitation under false pretenses—”

  “No, no,” Pike said hastily. “I just wanted to make sure I understood your needs correctly. Starfleet wasn’t very specific about what exactly you were interested in seeing.”

  “As much as you will show me.” He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Starting with my quarters, please.”

  “Of course. Right this way.” Pike gestured toward the door, wondering once again if this had been such a great idea. He had hoped that a diplomatic mission would give his crew a chance to relax a bit, but he already felt as if he was walking on eggs and he’d just met the guy.

  Colt and Number One fell in behind them as they walked to the turbolift. Verka noticed, and said, “Do females automatically defer to males in your society, or do you separate yourselves by rank?”

  Number One hadn’t been happy at being ordered away from her duty station to greet an alien visitor, especially when Colt had been given the job of actually getting to know him. “The corridor’s too narrow to walk four abreast,” she answered before Colt or Pike could think of a reply. The turbolift door whisked open, and after everyo
ne had entered, she and Colt wound up near the door. “Do you require the lead position?” she asked.

  “No,” the Eremoid said. Then, after a pause, he added, “Thank you.”

  “We’re putting you on Deck 4,” Colt said. “The guest rooms there have a great view—provided you like to see the stars.”

  “I am familiar with them,” Verka said. “I am most interested in seeing you.” There was an embarrassed silence, then he added, “In action. In the plural sense. I mean….” He suddenly clapped his free hand over his mouth like a child who had just spoken a swear word within earshot of his mother.

  Pike had to fake a sneeze to disguise his laughter, but Colt said innocently, “It’s all right. I know what you mean.”

  Verka slowly relaxed. “Good.”

  The turbolift deposited them on Deck 4 and they began walking down the corridor, this time with Colt and Number One in front. Colt turned sideways as she walked and asked, “Do women defer to men in your society?”

  “The weak defer to the strong,” he said. “Occasionally the strong defer to the intelligent, but that is less common.”

  Colt smiled. “That sounds a lot like us.”

  “Yet you somehow work together. Can you all be equally strong, or equally intelligent?” Pike looked to Colt, who couldn’t have weighed over fifty kilos soaking wet, then to Number One, who could beat the ship’s computer at three-dimensional chess while plotting a course through an asteroid field. The two were hardly equal in anything, except perhaps their mutual low-level irritation with each other, which they worked hard to keep from affecting their performance. “We’re all equally dedicated to Starfleet,” he said.

  “Ah.” The Eremoid shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other, but as he swung it around in front of him, the edge of it clipped Colt in the side. It was a soft blow, but she was already off balance from walking sideways; the impact knocked her backward, her arms windmilling.

  Pike felt a flash of irritation at the alien, but he suppressed it immediately and reached out to catch his yeoman before she could fall. He deposited her on her feet again, uncomfortably aware how close his left hand had come to grabbing her in an embarrassing spot. She seemed just as aware of it, smoothing out her shirt and pointedly not looking at Pike even as she thanked him, but they both forgot their embarrassment when they realized that the Eremoid had leaped just as quickly toward the wall and was holding his bag out as a shield.

  The three humans stared at him uncomprehendingly until he lowered the bag. “You aren’t going to attack?”

  “What?” Pike asked. “Of course not. It was an accident. Wasn’t it?”

  “Most assuredly.” Verka slowly stepped away from the wall. “Though I confess I don’t understand what difference that makes. An offense is an offense, isn’t it?”

  “No,” Colt said simply.

  Verka cocked his head to the side. “No?”

  “No. But if you’re worried about it, an apology never hurts.”

  “Ah, yes. I have heard of this custom. I apologize for … what? Invading your space? Violating your person?

  “Upsetting your equilibrium?”

  “That’s it. All you did was make me lose my balance. Apology accepted. Would you like some help carrying that bag?”

  He stiffened. “Hah! Just as I suspected. Saying this apology makes me weaker now. I take it back.”

  She laughed. “No, silly. Carry it yourself if you want; I was just trying to help.”

  “Silly? Is it silly to defend my honor? Is it silly to—”

  “Here’s your quarters,” Pike interrupted.

  “Ah”

  The Eremoid ducked inside as the door slid open, then immediately whirled around and barred the way. Number One nearly bonked her nose on the alien’s forehead, and Colt did pile into Number One’s back. Number One turned and scowled at her, then turned back and took a half step into the stateroom.

  “What are you doing?” Verka cried. “You said this was my room.”

  “It is,” Pike said.

  “Then stay out!”

  “I’m the captain of the ship,” Pike explained patiently. “I can go anywhere I like. So can Number One, and for security reasons I’ve given Yeoman Colt authority to watch over you at all times as well. But if you need time to yourself, we’ll honor your privacy. All you need to do is ask.”

  Verka took a deep breath. “I see. On my world, a person’s home is an absolute sanctuary. It’s the one place we can go and be totally safe from harm. I am—I need such a place.”

  “Wouldn’t you at least like someone to show you how to use the facilities?” Colt asked.

  “I will puzzle them out myself, thank you.”

  “All right, but don’t blame me if you get sucked out the waste port.”

  “Yeoman!” both Pike and Number One said in chorus.

  “Sorry. No offense intended.”

  Verka attempted a smile. “Strangely enough, none taken.” He took a step backward and set his bag on the floor. “Please, this is all very difficult for me. May I have some time alone?”

  Pike wondered how smart that would be. The transporter would have filtered any weapons out of the bag or hidden on his person, but there were other ways to sabotage a ship if that was his intention.

  And there were other ways to keep an eye on him, too. Pike said, “Certainly. We’ll check on you in an hour.” He turned away, ushering Colt and Number One away with him. Verka moved deeper into his room, and the door slid closed between them.

  Pike immediately stepped up to the computer terminal on the wall only a few paces away. “Computer, keep watch on the Eremoid. Notify me immediately if he does anything suspicious. That includes trying to leave his quarters.”

  “Acknowledged,” the computer said.

  He led the way back to the turbolift. After they were safely on their way up to the bridge, he said, “He certainly is a prickly one, isn’t he?”

  “If Colt didn’t keep irritating him, maybe he wouldn’t be,” said Number One.

  Colt said, “Irritating? He’s the one who’s irritating. I’ve dealt with men like him before, and if you give them an inch, they’ll take a light-year. You’ve got to show them you’re not scared of them or they’ll walk all over you.”

  “This is an alien,” Pike reminded her.

  She snorted. “No offense, Captain, but he’s a male alien.”

  The door opened onto the bridge just as Pike said, “You don’t treat me like that.”

  Everyone looked up. For a moment it seemed as if they were all trying to imitate Spock, but then the navigator, Tyler, snickered. Dabisch made the honking noise that he used for laughter. Even Spock arched an eyebrow.

  Then Colt asked innocently, “Would you like me to, Sir?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Yeoman,” he said, ignoring the sounds of distress as everyone turned away again. He sat in his command chair, then quickly got up and removed a datapad before settling back down.

  “What’s this doing here?” he demanded.

  Number One joined Tyler at the helm. He heard Colt come up to stand behind him. “It’s the latest progress report on our repairs, Sir. I left it there because that seems to be where you store them, and you were already getting dressed to meet our guest.”

  “Oh.” Was that a subtle reminder that a yeoman usually helped the captain into his uniform? Pike had relieved her of that duty the moment he realized Starfleet had sent a young woman to replace his previous yeoman. In the months since then, he had come to wonder if he had made a hasty decision, but so far he had let the order stand despite her obvious displeasure at the unusual treatment.

  He glanced at the datapad, but the intercom whistled for attention just then and Dabisch said, “Our visitor wishes to speak with you, Captain.”

  Pike punched the intercom button in the arm of his chair. “This is the captain.”

  “I—um—seem to have misjudged the plumbing,” Verka said. There was a loud sucking sound comi
ng through the intercom along with his voice.

  “I’ll send someone right down,” Pike said.

  “I—I suppose that means I’ll have to let them into my quarters?”

  “If you want to keep breathing air inside the ship, yes.”

  “Very well. I will prepare for the … invasion.” The intercom went silent.

  Pike swiveled his chair sideways. “Yeoman, go storm his quarters and see if you can fix whatever he did. And this time try not to start an interplanetary incident.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She rushed for the turbolift.

  “Captain,” Spock said. “I have been researching the Eremoid civilization, and I have found a startling detail.”

  “‘Startling?’ Mr. Spock?”

  “Indeed. There have been twelve previous attempts by Eremoids to visit alien societies, both in space and on starbases. In every case, the Eremoids died in fights with their hosts over what seemed to the hosts to be insignificant transgressions.”

  Pike sighed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? And we’re lucky thirteen, eh?”

  “The Vulcans have proven statistically that there is no connection between numerology and….”

  “I’m glad to hear that. All the same, I want everyone to be on their best behavior at all times. Understood?”

  The bridge crew all chorused, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. And Tyler, wipe that silly grin off your face.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Colt returned a few minutes later with Verka at her side. “He decided to get started while we still allowed him on board,” she explained.

  Verka was carrying a large, boxy datapad. He took up a position at the handrail just to Pike’s left and said, “Please behave as if I were not here.”

  Sure, Pike thought. That would be about as easy as nibbling at an angel food cake with a spider on it. But he only said, “Very well. Helm, take us out of orbit. Set course for the Gamma Gemini system. Time warp factor 6.” Gamma Gemini was a new colony about seven light-years distant. Its fourth planet was a very Earthlike world and was receiving a heavy influx of colonists, whom Starfleet wanted to reassure regarding their protection from Klingon incursions. Any starship passing near was urged to check in and make its presence in the sector known. No one complained, least of all Pike; it was a good excuse for a little unofficial R&R under a blue sky.