Part six of my endeavor to read through Star Trek delivers another diverse and creative mixture of fan written adventures. Featuring daring dives into alien labyrinths, tense traipses through dystopian cities, and low stakes shenanigans on the Enterprise. However, while The New Voyages 2 continues to push the boundary in new and strange ways, the impassioned charm of fan-writing has somewhat worn thin. For this second entry, the frequent jarring atypical characterization of our beloved TOS crew stands out ever more prominently. Nevertheless, the novel still offers a handful of engaging and bemusing stories and several endearing new character moments that clearly distinguishes this anthology from the full length novels.
While our core Trek trio features prominently as usual, and Spock and Kirk’s relationship stands front and center, a few of the more underrepresented crew members receive some welcome time in the spotlight, especially the Trek women. Rather predictably, much of the underlying sexism of the era remains, but many of the stronger writers make concerted efforts to highlight the women’s strength and resilience. Altogether, this strange, conflicting juxtaposition paints an interesting and often uncomfortable picture of women’s presence in science-fiction fandom in the seventies. It is almost as if the very characters themselves are fighting against the author’s own internalized misogyny. Thankfully, when viewed retroactively, Uhura and Nurse Chapel usually come out on top! Genderbent Captain Kirk however… I’ll dig into that shortly.
The New Voyages 2 opens with Surprise!, co-written by Nichelle Nichols and returning anthology editors and contributors Sondra Marshaka and Myrna Culbreath. Based, in part, on personal experiences of Nichols, Surprise! is a fun, light-hearted, and low-stakes escapade set on Captain Kirk’s birthday aboard the Enterprise. The story opens with a disheartened Kirk working under the impression that his crew have forgotten his birthday. And soon, in response to some amusing antics from Uhura and Spock, Kirk becomes increasingly suspicious that something is influencing his friends when in fact they are really just frantically attempting to cover up a birthday surprise. Except… maybe they are under an alien influence after all?
Nichols and co playfully toy with our and Kirk’s expectations regarding the crew's strange behavior. Strangeness that is further exacerbated by Spock’s amusing attempts to follow party-planner Uhura’s instructions to distract their highly scrutinous captain. Notably, Uhura takes a far more prominent role as the party puppeteer, offering many wry remarks and playful observations from beginning to end. With the exception of a caveat that I’ll explain shortly, Uhura thrives in this more prominent role, and it’s a joy to hear Nichol’s voice shine through. Similarly Spock shines as he’s compelled to make spontaneous, human-like decisions in order to help Uhura, and the pair form quite the comedic duo. Meanwhile Kirk adopts a more erratic and self-conscious persona for the purposes of driving forward the plot. It produces some hilarious moments, but also feels somewhat uncharacteristic.
Oddly, Surprise! takes on an unexpectedly flirtatious tone as Spock, Kirk, and Uhura all appear very much infatuated with each other. In turn, this errant tone conflicts with the story’s central mystery, as it quickly becomes difficult to differentiate between what is overzealous fanfiction-esque writing (shoving Spock before a naked Kirk fresh out of the shower) and what may be the potential machinations of some obscure alien influence. Although this is clearly not the precise dilemma the audience are intended to focus on, Surprise!’s carefree atmosphere and deliberately minimal stakes provide the writers some leeway.
Additionally, I should note that there are some especially dated and awkward fetishistic type ‘jokes’ littered throughout the story. Specifically, the story had a weird obsession with spanking Uhura, or at least threatening her with spanking for ‘misbehaving’. Of course, Nichols had a hand in writing it so at the very least she accepted this content, but these scenes have aged terribly regardless. They’re clearly written to be playful and flirtatious, however, they read as infantilizing and disrespectful, and Surprise! would be much better without them.
Overall, despite my issues, Surprise! stood out as a charming and funny tale that provided a closer look at more ordinary Enterprise life. Nichols provides a reprieve from the usual Klingon dogfights or robot death machines that we’re familiar with. Instead, she leaves us chuckling like Kirk and crew at the end of a TOS episode, just before the Enterprise flies away into the stars.
Following Surprise! is the similarly exclamatory Snake Pit! starring a kick-ass Nurse Chapel. The Federation is in the middle of diplomatic talks with a tribal human-like group of aliens for some life saving medicine sourced from some deadly snakes. Immediately, this conceit stands out as conflicting with the Prime Directive. Little explanation is given as to why prolonged contact has been made with these rather racially unambiguous tribalistic aliens. It takes some effortful head-canonning to make their prolonged trading relations make sense in this context. Awkward premise aside however, writer Connie Faddis crafts a thrilling adventure, casting Chapel as the daring hero and Kirk as the damsel in distress. The titular snake pit facilitates surprisingly brutal action scenes, despite the contrived nudity…
Kirk and Nurse Chapel are a unique pair and it is refreshing to see them together for once. Throughout the story, it is made abundantly clear the Chapel holds a lot of respect for Kirk, and he for her. Although she maintains a cool and professional exterior, Chapel’s inner monologue rather typically reads as bashful and timid in the face of the pure manly boldness of Captain James T. Kirk. I must confess that having each and every woman fawn over Kirk and Spock each story certainly wears quite thin. But thankfully, a more confident and empowered Chapel emerges once Kirk is subject to danger, and her fearless heroics are a sight to behold, culminating in a thrilling and shocking climax. It is just disappointing that her heroics tend to be written in spite of her sex, instead of in addition to it. Nevertheless, Snake Pit! stands out as overall as a solid character-piece for Christine Chapel.
Next, is Russell Bates’ script for The Patient Parasites, a short story that was nearly adapted for the animated series. While the script did not quite meet the mark, he later found success with How Sharper Than a Serpent’s Tooth. However, I must confess that I am not especially surprised that The Patient Parasites did not make the cut, as its unique scripted presentation is perhaps its most compelling trait. A mixture of classic TOS tropes, The Patient Parasites feature godly aliens, intelligent mechanical probes, and an abundance of endangered red-shirts. The scintillating language used to describe the alien constellations and laser-fuelled action stands out as distinctly notable, when compared to the mundane and dry expository dialogue that takes up the majority of the story.
The Patient Parasites’ inciting incident occurs after Sulu and a few security entangle with an intelligent interstellar probe, the finder. Paralyzed, they are at the mercy of this strange, alien machine with menacing and destructive plans. But rather unceremoniously, Sulu is immediately freed by some technobabble-fuelled shenanigans from the core trio of Kirk, Spock, and McCoy, which promptly deflates all tension. Instead the probe ‘Finder’ holds captive a few red-shirts, and I must confess that sadly, the fate of a few red-shirts holds little emotional weight. Had Sulu remained in danger, at the very least the danger would have felt more pressing. Instead, The Patient Parasites divulges into a prolonged tense debate between a dispassionate and uninteresting Finder, and Kirk, Spock, and Bones going through the motions until ambling into an underwhelming climax. One which toys with interesting sci-fi ideas, but fails to weave them into the story in a compelling way. In sum, The Patient Parasites puts forth an intriguing format, but it fails to effectively leverage it.
Returning writer Jennifer Guttridge delivers the next installment - the eerie, unsettling, and sometimes sluggish In the Maze. Set in a cold, indestructible cube of alien design, Spock and McCoy are tied together as they delve their way deeper into a hostile, dimensionally obscure labyrinth. Meanwhile Kirk is held hostage by an imposing creature with a powerful visceral design. Unfortunately, Kirk is thoroughly underutilized throughout the story, despite his perspective constantly interrupting the far more dynamic and engaging Bones and Spock duo. A captive Kirk is only entertaining for so long, and halfway through this short story, his segments begin to disturb the pacing. This transforms an otherwise short jaunt through an alien cube into an arduous crawl through an endless maze. Thankfully, his eventual release and the story’s thought provoking conclusion provides some overdue closure.
Meanwhile, Spock and McCoy are in peak condition, operating on all cylinders and exhibiting the full wonderful range of their tumultuous relationship. From petty squabbling, to genuine conflict, to begrudging respect, to complete trust in each other. Of course, I attribute these irrational emotions to McCoy only, Spock is scarcely susceptible to such human foibles! Their perilous plunge through the maze is filled with brief moments of triumph and despair that in reality stretch on for days. While their interactions were entertaining and frequently compelling, Spock and McCoy’s role in the resolution was disappointingly scant. Despite my issues, In the Maze remains an engaging adventure with a delightfully surreal setting and a brilliant rendition of Spock and McCoy’s dynamic.
The brief “open texture” free form poem Cave-In comes as a welcome surprise, breaking up the repetitive pace and length of the rest of the short stories. Although it is far from an impactful entry into the literary canon, I personally found Cave-In to be a novel, intriguing character piece for Spock. Where other stories must doggedly commit to some semblance of canon or consistency, this short poem allows writer Jane Peyton to toy with Spock’s impending demise in a cave-in. We’re privy to his final, fading conversation with an unnamed individual who may be Bones, Kirk, or Spock’s human self, depending on how you read it. The voice changed each time I read Cave-In, which is one of my favourite elements of the text.
Marginal Existence is by far the most evocative, grounded, and engaging story of the anthology. Writer Connie Faddis returns to deliver us a gripping expedition into a dystopian planet populated by desiccated sleepers wired into stasis pods, autonomous robots that guard them, and a roaming mob of tribalistic aliens (humans) terrified of loud noises. The premise is fantastic, and Faddis’ execution is even moreso.
Trapped in this oppressive and hostile environment, Bones is thoroughly undergeared and underestimated. But when he’s confronted with human suffering he’s compelled to action and his endeavours are cathartic. Similarly, Kirk is more decisive, controlled, and commanding than in any other appearance. For the first time in this anthology I am convinced of a written rendition of his character. Alternatively, Spock takes a backseat, providing his usual dose of sage-like wisdom when needed and delivering a devastatingly splendid line every few pages. “The mental contortions by which you arrive at logical decisions never cease to amaze me, Captain…” is a clear standout. Additionally, Chekov receives some time in the spotlight for once, providing well needed levity to temper the tense, bleak atmosphere and tone. Marginal Existence does feature the usual starfleet issued damsel in distress who distracts from the otherwise brilliant pacing. But thankfully her role is limited and diverts us from the existential provocations raised in the narrative infrequently.
In a departure from most of these fan-submitted entries that have focused primarily on novel character dynamics, Faddis casts her dynamic characters in a grounded, fleshed out alien world with an intriguing mystery and a gripping atmosphere. Marginal Existence raises some delightful existential questions, providing this anthology the meaty material that was needed. The Enterprise crew’s encounters with the sick, tortured dreamers and the world their descendants inherited engages with provocative themes including utopia, desire, and fulfilment. This culminates in a surprisingly decisive resolution that raises delightfully grey, murky ethical questions. In total, Marginal Existence is far and above the most engaging short story and I can easily picture it among the lineup of series one and two of TOS.
Succeeding the greatest short story in The New Voyages 2, is the very worst. The Procrustean Petard is an egregious excuse of a story that feels longer than a full length novel, despite its brevity. Co-editors Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath took charge of this misogynistic spiritual sequel to Turnabout Intruder that features a Klingon battalion, Kirk and the Enterprise crew all genderbending together. All but Spock and returning Klingon captain Kang are subjected to several dozen pages of messy, tasteless, foul gender dynamics that boils all of the men’s leadership and ambition down to their testosterone. Astoundingly, the majority of the story is spent fawning over exactly how stupidly attractive Kirk is as a woman, but sadly, there is no reality where Kirk may continue as a Captain. No crew could look toward a woman for leadership after all! They’re just too distracting - proclaim Bones and Spock.
I truly cannot find a single component in The Procrustean Petard to praise, in fact the story is so rough that it’s retrospectively diminished the authors’ previous work, The Price of Phoenix. I have lost all confidence in their ability as writers. All the lingering prosaic issues scattered through their other work continue here: environments are intangible and transient; the dialogue is stiff and out of character; the perspective constantly shifts and leaps about, spinning endless protracted philosophised postulations and weak self-reflections on sex. Marshak and Culbreath’s love for romance continues here too, once more thrusting Kirk and Spock into another dark implied love triangle with Kang, an enduring Klingon figure who first appeared in the classic episode The Day of the Dove. Kang’s newfound affection and uncomfortable sexual implications toward Kirk mirror Omne’s from The Price of Phoenix. Similarly, once more Spock is forced to play the dashing hero, a role that’s especially ill-fitting. So much so that in an immensely contrived series of events Spock gains another chromosome and becomes a super-masculine man unlike the rest of the genderbending crew. Also, the use of ‘chromosome’ in this context is certainly a choice… In essence, The Procrustean Petard succeeds in making a mockery of nearly the entire cast. Reveling in outdated stereotypes and failing to make any kind of meaningful commentary, it is an exercise in indulgent self-sabotage.
Last of the full-length short stories is The Sleeping God, a surprising precursor to The Motion Picture, featuring a colossal, planet-sized machine intelligence set on a crash course with the Federation. Joining Kirk and the Enterprise crew is Singa the Sleeper, a powerful telepath steeped in misguided mysticism. His role would later be occupied by Lt. Illia and Willard Decker with much more interesting results. Additionally, Jesco von Puttkamer, this story’s author would later be credited as an advisor to the scriptwriters of The Motion Picture, further cementing the pair’s similarities. It is here where they end however, as The Sleeping God’s execution is fundamentally different. As can be expected, the Enterprise’s encounter with Singa the Sleeper and Nagha the alien artificial intelligence is far from introspective or deeply atmospheric. This is simply another adventure with Kirk and friends that ploughs forward with a rapid pace.
Nagha and the threat that it poses is considerably less compelling and more simplistic than V’ger was. Puttkamer clearly established the AI entity as a vindictive, hostile force through his use of perspective. Intermittently, we follow its rapid ascent to power and universal domination through its callous and surprisingly petty eyes. This alternative perspective grants the story a degree of novelty, but ultimately Nagha’s pure evil nature is underwhelming. Similarly, the alien’s machinations and mechanisms are astoundingly flimsy given its impressive scale, vividly rendered by Puttkamer. When push comes to shove, Kirk and the Enterprise outmanoeuvre this galaxy crushing metal megalomaniac with ease.
Puttkamer’s prose does deserve special mention, as his background in astrophysics shines through, attributing a note of authenticity to the science underpinning the action. His descriptions of Nagha, the Enterprise, and the vast expanse of space were elevated through his expertise and passion for the subject. Alternatively, Puttkamer’s explorations of faith and mysticism were much less effective. Singa the Sleeper and his ‘primitive’ followers failed to captivate. Poorly characterized and awkwardly jammed into the overarching narrative, it appeared that Singa manifested in response to the overwhelming power and threat posed by Nagha, and for little else. Ultimately, The Sleeping God leapt ahead of itself in its pursuit of grand overpowering concepts which required more space to breathe. Space that it would one day be provided very shortly.
Lastly, The New Voyages 2 closes out with two poems. These texts are both flowery, wistful, melancholic entries that are each undercut by their subjects. The first, an Elegy for Charlie is exactly as described. Calling out to the boy corrupted by psychic powers in Charlie X, it is a poem that is difficult to take seriously when you recall who it is about. Charlie’s angsty, unpleasant behavior and performance in the original episode immediately evaporates any ponderings I may have had about his place in the universe. Similarly, the final text Soliloquy, is an impassioned introspective monologue of Spock. This too, is undermined by its detachment from every performance of Nimoy’s in TOS, save This Side of Paradise perhaps.