Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

William Shatner is the author of several Star Trek® novels: The Ashes of Eden, The Return, Avenger, Spectre, and Dark Victory. In addition to his ongoing role as Captain James T. Kirk, he has appeared in such notable films as The Brothers Karamazov and Judgment at Nuremberg, and on television in T.J. Hooker and Rescue 911. Recently, he has shown a flair for comedy in his appearances in both television (3rd Rock from the Sun) and in features (Miss Congeniality and Showtime). He is also the author of several nonfiction books, including Get a Life!

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Captain's Peril

Pocket Books

Chapter One

Near Bajor, Stardate 55595.4

This wasn't the first time Jean-Luc Picard had thought Jim Kirk was crazy. But he was concerned that it might be the last. No one could survive what Kirk had planned for the two of them now.

"Jim!" The environmental suit Picard wore beneath his jump armor was alarmingly old, and he had to shout for the communicator circuits in the helmet to make his voice heard above the outside whine of thickening atmosphere. "You're crazy!" Picard never shied away from the direct approach if that's what conditions warranted.

But Kirk didn't answer. He kept his back to Picard, one armored hand nonchalantly holding the railing by the open airlock of the Ferengi shuttle as if the slender metal fixture weren't the sole means saving him from a fiery death. Beyond Kirk, one hundred kilometers straight down, the sweeping crescents of Bajor's vast Trevin desert slipped by, the edge of each sinuous curve crisp in the bright sunlight flooding the world below.

Picard knew that Kirk was transfixed by the vista. The two starship captains had once spent an endless evening in a bar on Risa trying to calculate how many different worlds they had each visited in the course of their careers. It had been an unwinnable competition -- so many worlds over so many years that the details of one blurred into the memories of another.

Still, Picard knew, despite all the years and all the memories, to Kirk, most assuredly, each new world would always be the first world, each new experience a gift to be cherished.

But to Picard, this particular new experience they were about to embark upon was one he would gladly forgo.

Picard slid his magnetic boots over the rough deckplates until he was within arm's reach of Kirk. He reached out and pounded his armored glove against the thermic-tiled pod that covered Kirk's back. Picard could see a badly worn safety inspection sticker on the pod. The date of the last inspection was marked in Cardassian script, and the Cardassians had withdrawn from Bajor more than ten years ago.

Picard tried not to think how long it had been since his own pod had been inspected. His trepidation only inspired him to make sure his fist came down firmly -- several more times.

That got Kirk's attention. But Picard's concern for himself suddenly changed to concern for Kirk as his friend let go of the hand railing to turn around and look back. Now the only thing keeping Kirk from tumbling away to a fiery death was the current in his magnetic boots. And who knew the last time those had been inspected or had had their lintium batteries replaced?

Acting instantly and instinctively, Picard grabbed for an equipment loop on Kirk's pod harness, to keep him safe.

Behind his helmet's faceplate, Kirk grinned -- quite irritatingly, Picard thought -- as if he understood what Picard was doing and found the act completely unnecessary. Picard begged to differ. The thermic coating of Kirk's helmet was a dark rust color, streaked here and there with carbon trails, which did nothing to increase Picard's confidence in the forcefield of Kirk's suit. The cobalt-blue base color of his friend's helmet also differed from the deep-yellow coating on the interlocking armor plates that covered the body of his suit, the lack of a color match indicating the helmet was not part of a set. But from the eager expression on his friend's face, it was all too evident to Picard that Kirk might as well be an ensign about to make his first Academy EVA in a fresh-from-the-replicator suit.

"Almost there!" Kirk shouted.

Picard could just make out Kirk's voice through the sputtering static that came over his commlink. The enthusiasm it conveyed matched Kirk's expression, but only added to Picard's profound misgivings.

"Jim," Picard said loudly, overenunciating each word so that at the very least, Kirk could read his lips through his faceplate, "I don't believe these suits are safe."

Kirk's first response was a puzzled expression. Then, seeing equal puzzlement on Picard's face, Kirk leaned forward to press his helmet against Picard's so that actual sound vibrations could travel from one to another. "They're the safest suits in the system," he shouted.

Picard shook his head, the easiest way he knew to ask Kirk what he could possibly mean.

"I rented them from that Ferengi on DS9," Kirk explained loudly. "He doesn't get paid until -- and unless -- we come back."

"Quark?" Picard said in alarm. He knew that particular Ferengi. Even more alarming, he had heard Will Riker's stories. "You rented these suits from Quark?"

Kirk nodded with a proud smile. "Very competitive rates."

"Of course they're competitive," Picard shouted. "These suits are very likely stolen!" To a Ferengi, recycling through robbery and resale was a time-honored practice for maintaining low overhead.

But Kirk didn't appear concerned. "Not even Quark would be crazy enough to risk crossing the captain of the Enterprise. Let alone two of them."

"You don't know Quark," Picard said. And you clearly don't know the meaning of the word, "crazy," he thought.

From the movement of Kirk's head, Picard guessed that his friend was attempting to shrug in his suit, though the armored plates were effective masks for any such action.

"Then when this trip's over," Kirk said, "I'll buy you a drink at Quark's, and we can both get to know him."

Picard waved Kirk's suggestion aside.

"Jim, my concern is that this trip is going to be over the instant we step through that airlock."

Suddenly, Picard felt his stomach tighten as the airlock pulsed with a flashing orange light and the pilot's deep voice crackled over the commlink.

"Attention my esteemed and treasured passengers, as your captain and jump master for today, it is my great pleasure to inform you that this fine vessel is quickly approaching the release coordinates with a truly impressive measure of navigational accuracy, such that absolutely no disruptive course corrections will be required, allowing you both to savor these final few moments before embarking on what I sincerely hope is a remarkable and fulfilling experience, the best that Quark Adventure Excursions -- which is a wholly owned subsidiary of the Quark Trading Cooperative, though it has no fiduciary responsibility whatsoever in the event of insurance claims resulting from any inadequacy arising from personnel misconduct and/or equipment malfunction -- can offer."

As the pilot droned on mechanically, Picard became even more distressed. The pilot's muffled accent sounded Lurian, and the only Lurian in the Bajoran system as far as Picard knew was the hulking, oddly hairless, and insufferably garrulous Morn, who seemed to be permanently welded to a barstool at Quark's, warbling endless tales of his improbable adventures.

Now, not only did Picard suspect the equipment he and Kirk wore was stolen, he feared their pilot had been awarded this assignment only to make good a bar bill or gambling debt.

As Picard tried to dredge up some inarguable reason for why they could not and should not proceed, he saw Kirk turn his attention to the status lights on his suit's forearm controls. To Picard's dismay, they were all purple -- one of the Bajoran colors which indicated proper operation.

Then Picard realized Kirk was looking at him expectantly. "How're your status lights?" he asked.

Picard glanced at his own forearm controls and shuddered. Purple, every one.

By then, the...