The Operative (A Star Trek novel)

Chapter Eleven

"Captain, our sensors indicate your shuttle bay is opening. As you have been told, we are in a state of emergency due to the rebellion. We cannot allow any of your shuttlecraft to land on the planet. For their own safety, of course."

"Of course," Kirk replies.

He regards the image in the holoscreen with some amusement. He is tempted to say that he'll take that risk just to see what the prissy martinet, a Lt. Wainwright, would do. But, better to play the role of concerned Federation representative, even if no one believes it.

"But you don't need to worry," he instead. "We're just taking the opportunity to do some preventive maintenance. We will be using one of our shuttles to ferry workers and material to the top of the ship's saucer section. It won't be leaving the vicinity of the ship."

"Very well," Wainwright says doubtfully. "See that it doesn't. And advise us at once if you plan any further shuttle maneuvers."

The screen goes blank.

They have been in orbit around Athena now for the better part of a day. When they emerged from warp several lighthours from the planet, they were immediately hailed—challenged, really—by subspace radio. Uhura sent the usual greetings and requested a parking orbit, but that wasn't good enough for traffic control, which for some reason is run out of one of the planet's defensive satellites. Big, nasty-looking things. They wanted to speak to the captain, citing planetary unrest.

What they wanted to speak to Kirk about, of course, was what the hell he was doing here. Superficially, they were polite, but they were also firm. There was minor rebellion going on which was being cleaned up now, but he would have to have a very good reason to want to visit in the meantime. There was evidence that the rebels were receiving outside support—though of course, he was assured, they didn't suspect anyone in the Federation—it's just that all outside contact was being strictly regulated as a matter of policy.

Kirk thought the cover story could have been improved. A "minor" rebellion certainly would not be cause to basically shut down an entire planet, much less affect anything in orbit. It was, he thought, indicative of just how little Ocht and his minions cared about what the Federation thought.

The person speaking to him then was a different lieutenant, but a lieutenant nonetheless. It was undoubtedly calculated to indicate what Athenian defense thought of the importance of a Starfleet captain, or of a starship.

As an official representative of the Federation, he explained, he had been sent to ensure the safety of its personnel and facilities on the planet—a concern, he lied, that was brought about by the very civil unrest the lieutenant was citing. After a while, when it became clear that Enterprise was not going away, they were grudgingly assigned an orbital slot.

Now, at the ship's stern, the clamshell doors of the shuttle bay slide open. A single shuttlecraft emerges, a boxy little ship with an abruptly dorsoventrally-flattened nose. Floating out of the bay, it turns and maneuvers up and forward over the secondary hull, ultimately swinging up and to the top of the saucer-shaped primary hull. Small thrusters push it toward its parent, and it gently comes to rest on its engine nacelles, magnetically grappled in place . A door opens, and spacesuited workers emerge, wearing magnetic boots to keep themselves in place.

The scene greeting them is not unusual enough to warrant much of a glance. To starboard, across a vast, gleaming expanse of white hull marred only by regularly-spaced sensor and shield grid lines, is the utter blackness of space, pierced by a plethora of pinprick stars. Just aft rises the curved mound containing the bridge, like a slumped mountain over a smooth white plain. The planet's sun stares unblinking over the top with a fierce white glare.