Broken Bow - Diane Carey [0]
NEW YORK LONDON TORONTO SYDNEY 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 © 2001 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.
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: 0-7434-4862-6
First Pocket Books hardcover printing October 2001
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
For information regarding special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-800-456-6798 or business@simonandschuster.com
Printed in the U.S.A.
Parts of this novelization were written aboard
the topsail schooner Pride of Baltimore II
during the American Sail Training Association
Great Lakes Tall Ship Challenge of 2001.
—D. Carey
Ship’s Cook
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
BEHIND THE SCENES OF ENTERPRISE
About the e-Book
PROLOGUE
THERE WAS NO WIND, yet there was a rush. the starship was fast, faster than anything, ever. That was the rule. Just from the speed, the bad guys would be too scared to pick a fight. When they saw it go, then, all of a sudden, just magically couldn’t see it anymore, they’d know to back off.
Back away, because I’m going. I’m going ...
“... where no man has gone before.”
Prrrrsssshoooom!
Sure, it was just a paintbrush, but it made the perfect sound, the soft whisk of a starship’s superengines, just the way Jonathan heard it in his head, over and over, the way Dad described the sound—the rush of possibilities. Anything could happen! Space—the final frontier!
“Doctor Cochrane would be proud of you,” Dad said, instead of give me the brush before you paint your own nose.
“I know the whole speech by heart,” Jonathan said.
“Watch out! You’re painting over the cockpit windows.”
Jonathan Archer glanced up at his dad and muttered, “Sorry,” and drew back the paintbrush. Before them on the porch table, where Mom hated them to spill anything, was a good reason to spill. The ship was almost finished—a shipbuilder’s scale model, one of a kind, because Dad was the builder. Jonathan knew he was the only kid on Earth, in the whole universe and even on Mars Colony, who had a model like this. It was only his because Dad didn’t need it anymore, not for planning, anyway.
Jonathan surveyed the ventral plates and complained in his head that the dove-wing paint didn’t quite match the gunmetal of the nacelle housings.
But the model wasn’t suffering any, except for maybe a little overshoot from his brush on the starboard side. Jonathan was more embarrassed that he might keep the crew from seeing some important thing in space. And let the captain down. Captains had to be able to see everything and know everything. It was the crew’s job to help him. Someday I’ll be a heck of a crewman, on this ship! I’ll make sure the captain knows everything. He won’t take a step without me.
The boy pressed his lips together and didn’t say that out loud. He knew what he wanted, and he would get it. Decision made.
Sunlight poured through the sunporch windows. San Francisco’s skyline glittered and enhanced the light shining on the model of the starship. Jonathan was an important person, because otherwise, why would somebody as famous as his father let him work on the actual