Back on Earth enjoying a well-deserved shore leave, Captain Kirk is rudely accosted by a trio of Starfleet security guards. It seems he is wanted for questioning in connection with the theft of transwarp -- the Federation's newest, most advanced propulsion system. Could Captain Kirk, Starfleet's most decorated hero, be guilty of stealing top-secret technology? With the aid of Mr. Spock, Lt. Comdr. Piper begins a desperate search for the scientists who developed transwarp -- a search that leads her to an isolated planet, where she discovers the real -- and very dangerous -- traitor!
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Pocket Books/Star Trek
August 01, 1999
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Adobe DRM EPUB
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Excerpt from Battlestations! by Diane Carey
The enemy ship cut across our port bow, forcing us to heel off to starboard, but our captain gripped the forward rail and refused to give more than a meter.
"Keep her to," he said, the quiet of his voice somehow reaching us over the roar of the ship straining.
"Jim, this is crazy."
"Don't swing off, no matter what your stomach says."
Space overhead was bristol blue, the crashing sea even deeper azure and marbled by green swells and white foam. The older officers called it cadet blue.
"Stand by to come about. Piper, stand by the backstay. Bones, you take the foresheet. And watch your head."
"Don't worry. My head's not going anywhere."
Below and around us white hull and green deck tilted to a sickening forty-five degrees that buried the boom tips in brine and put us straight alongside a swift gust of wind. The bowsprit bobbed in thirteen-foot arches. We crashed against the waves, skating alongside our enemy's beam for a moment of reasonless risk.
I freed the backstay on the port side so it wouldn't be in the way when the big main boom swung about, then slid down the inclined deck to the starboard backstay and got ready to pull it up tight once the sail swung by. There, shivering, I awaited the order to come about. With the ship at this hideous angle, my thigh cut into the rail. I was almost lying on my side. Just over the rail, an arm's-length away, the tree-trunk boom dug furrows into the seawater with every long dip of the schooner. Arching out and rising away from the water, the mainsail's bright white canvas tightened with air and became stiff as cast rhodinium. This was drama of the highest order, and my heart thudded testimony to the pure insanity I'd gotten myself into. Of course, I couldn't exactly decline the honor.