Or, as it is subtitled, Captain’s Glory. In this book, the heroes of two generations must stop Shatner’s ego from imploding, creating a super-massive black hole that will suck all existence into itself. Well, actually, it was about an invasion by sentient dark matter, but that’s the plot the book should have had. From the cover to Kirk’s position vis-à-vis the messianic storyline, Shatner really outdoes himself this time in terms of sheer self-aggrandizement. Still, if you can set aside discomfort with the masturbatory impulse behind the text and remind yourself that the overblown plot won’t have any impact on the rest of novel line thanks to these books being wisely shunted aside into their own continuity, Glory actually makes for a good read. The pacing is strong, despite a number of plot oddities, and the idea behind the Totality is actually quite intriguing.
The book has most of the “Shatnerverse” hallmarks: a grave crisis threatening to tear the Federation apart which only Kirk is in a position to solve; characterization that always feels slightly off; a Starfleet that always seems slightly sinister, even when acting reasonably, so that Kirk can be the ‘lone wolf’ hero type; a notable disconnect from what came before it, as Shatner seems to move on quickly from one idea to the next. McCoy, Scotty and Joseph are practically non-entities in this novel; the first two reduced to speaking guest roles, the latter vanishing for most of the book, reappearing only at the very end. Oddly, in a book about the Totality invading the Federation, most of the action is not Kirk vs. Totality—which, perhaps, is a result of making the Totality a little too powerful as a villain—but Kirk vs. Kirk’s counterparts, whether Picard or his son. In fact, almost a third of the book seems devoted to a battle of wits between Kirk and Picard, all over something that becomes irrelevant almost as soon as Riker steps in. In this and in the climax, where Kirk battles Joseph, the way the plot has been massaged to create dramatic tension by pitching Kirk against friends and family is far too obviously artificial.
On the positive side, the book shows the Reeves-Stevenses’ usual attention to continuity, including matching the crew of the Titan to the novels’ roster, and most impressive (to me), Leybenzon and Kadahota on the ENT-E. Since this novel actually came out last year, and I assume nobody spliced in those characters between the hardcover and the paperback release, that’s some tight editorial oversight there.
I also quite liked the Totality as a villain in this book, after finding their supposed threat rather ho-hum in the previous two installments. While Norinda never really manages to break out of the femme fatale archetype, the gradual reveal of the Totality’s nature is fascinating. I like the notion of sentient dark matter, stretching like a lattice throughout the supposedly empty vacuum between galaxies; I like the idea that the Totality has had just as hard a time figuring out our form of life as we have theirs in the last few books; I like the idea of villains who must be fought multi-dimensionally, emerging from warp drives but crippled by gravity wells (not to mention the fanboy thrill of having the ENT-E and Kirk’s ship acting like a makeshift Interdictor); I also like that, while the book could easily have gone the way of saying the Totality’s ‘we bring you love’ shtick was a ploy, we instead get a very different kind of villain, one acting out of a misdirected desire for unity and apparently genuine concern for us lonely light-matter life-forms rather than personal profit or sadism—finally, not so much villainous despite all the harm they cause, but simply too arrogant or limited in worldview, incapable of going beyond the cultish belief that their way of life is naturally the best and all should be eager to embrace it… They’re like a happy-happy, joy-joy version of the Borg, or maybe a subtle rebuke of current ideological imperialism; in either case, they seem to make a good case for the Prime Directive and non-interference in matters you don’t understand.
So the plot twists and turns to varying degrees of incredulity, with a showdown on Vulcan. I’m grateful to see that this is one Trek product that knows not all threats to the Federation must also be threats to Earth; that there are other important Federation planets out there. The paranoid reaction of Starfleet in the Sol System, and our heroes’ evident discomfort with those measures, were also good to see, although Picard comes off as incredibly mule-headed, continuously arguing with everybody he meets about acceding to security measures, onerous as they might be—only to turn around and do the same to Kirk and Riker. Whatever; it’s the Shatnerverse. Janeway is here too, in full-on heartless bitch mode, although this time she actually has an excuse, trying to coordinate the battle against yet another greatest-threat-the-Federation-has-ever-faced. But, back to Vulcan: typically for this series, the denouement brings in more elements from Trek’s past, namely the progenitor Ur-Species and the Galactic Barrier, which has, by now, received more interpretations than there are ‘gangster planet’ stories in Strange New Worlds. But what really kills me in all this is when Joseph, a living embodiment of the Ur-Species’ protective encoding, dissipates to re-energize the barrier with the mysterious force that never appears on sensors. So, in other words: the child of destiny, product of a billion-year-old plan, and infused with otherwordly power, sacrifices himself for the salvation of all in the galaxy, and for future generations to come, from the threat of devouring darkness. As messianic storylines go, you don’t get them much clearer—but wait! Who is the Christ-like figure’s father? Kirk! Therefore, Kirk… is God!
Yea, and ten score thousand of fanboys did proclaim: “I knew it!” 
Sigh. Shatner, Shatner, Shatner. If ego could be harnessed as an energy source, this man could power the whole eastern seaboard by himself.
One thing that I simply must talk about—and I know this is rather anal, but, hey, it’s a Trek board, right? Let he who does not obsess over details cast the first stone and such. The name of Kirk’s ship, the so-called Belle Rêve, is grammatically incorrect. In French, most words are gendered male or female. “Rêve” is male; however, “belle” is a female adjective, and as such does not accord. It should have been “Beau Rêve”. Now, I realize that the gendering of words in French has no rhyme or reason and is difficult to grasp for non-native speakers, and that this is a relatively minor error, but given how often the ship’s name came up, I really wish someone would have bothered to check their grammar with somebody who knew French well. Reading Glory was like trying to listen to an orchestra when the second chair violinist is drunk: a sour note sounds regularly, preventing a truly immersive experience.
So, when one gets right down to it, Captain’s Glory pretty much sticks to the formula established by previous Shatnerverse novels, but with sufficiently different elements in the usual roles to keep the story fresh and interesting, helped by a plot that takes off quickly and doesn’t relent (except for that Kirk-Picard dust-up in the middle, which gets a bit long). Recommendations? If you’ve enjoyed previous Shatnerverse books, you’ll probably like this one. If you thought they were egotistical, overblown, poorly characterized and kinda trashy… well, it’s that too. Caveat lector.
Fictitiously yours, Trent Roman
The book has most of the “Shatnerverse” hallmarks: a grave crisis threatening to tear the Federation apart which only Kirk is in a position to solve; characterization that always feels slightly off; a Starfleet that always seems slightly sinister, even when acting reasonably, so that Kirk can be the ‘lone wolf’ hero type; a notable disconnect from what came before it, as Shatner seems to move on quickly from one idea to the next. McCoy, Scotty and Joseph are practically non-entities in this novel; the first two reduced to speaking guest roles, the latter vanishing for most of the book, reappearing only at the very end. Oddly, in a book about the Totality invading the Federation, most of the action is not Kirk vs. Totality—which, perhaps, is a result of making the Totality a little too powerful as a villain—but Kirk vs. Kirk’s counterparts, whether Picard or his son. In fact, almost a third of the book seems devoted to a battle of wits between Kirk and Picard, all over something that becomes irrelevant almost as soon as Riker steps in. In this and in the climax, where Kirk battles Joseph, the way the plot has been massaged to create dramatic tension by pitching Kirk against friends and family is far too obviously artificial.
On the positive side, the book shows the Reeves-Stevenses’ usual attention to continuity, including matching the crew of the Titan to the novels’ roster, and most impressive (to me), Leybenzon and Kadahota on the ENT-E. Since this novel actually came out last year, and I assume nobody spliced in those characters between the hardcover and the paperback release, that’s some tight editorial oversight there.
I also quite liked the Totality as a villain in this book, after finding their supposed threat rather ho-hum in the previous two installments. While Norinda never really manages to break out of the femme fatale archetype, the gradual reveal of the Totality’s nature is fascinating. I like the notion of sentient dark matter, stretching like a lattice throughout the supposedly empty vacuum between galaxies; I like the idea that the Totality has had just as hard a time figuring out our form of life as we have theirs in the last few books; I like the idea of villains who must be fought multi-dimensionally, emerging from warp drives but crippled by gravity wells (not to mention the fanboy thrill of having the ENT-E and Kirk’s ship acting like a makeshift Interdictor); I also like that, while the book could easily have gone the way of saying the Totality’s ‘we bring you love’ shtick was a ploy, we instead get a very different kind of villain, one acting out of a misdirected desire for unity and apparently genuine concern for us lonely light-matter life-forms rather than personal profit or sadism—finally, not so much villainous despite all the harm they cause, but simply too arrogant or limited in worldview, incapable of going beyond the cultish belief that their way of life is naturally the best and all should be eager to embrace it… They’re like a happy-happy, joy-joy version of the Borg, or maybe a subtle rebuke of current ideological imperialism; in either case, they seem to make a good case for the Prime Directive and non-interference in matters you don’t understand.
So the plot twists and turns to varying degrees of incredulity, with a showdown on Vulcan. I’m grateful to see that this is one Trek product that knows not all threats to the Federation must also be threats to Earth; that there are other important Federation planets out there. The paranoid reaction of Starfleet in the Sol System, and our heroes’ evident discomfort with those measures, were also good to see, although Picard comes off as incredibly mule-headed, continuously arguing with everybody he meets about acceding to security measures, onerous as they might be—only to turn around and do the same to Kirk and Riker. Whatever; it’s the Shatnerverse. Janeway is here too, in full-on heartless bitch mode, although this time she actually has an excuse, trying to coordinate the battle against yet another greatest-threat-the-Federation-has-ever-faced. But, back to Vulcan: typically for this series, the denouement brings in more elements from Trek’s past, namely the progenitor Ur-Species and the Galactic Barrier, which has, by now, received more interpretations than there are ‘gangster planet’ stories in Strange New Worlds. But what really kills me in all this is when Joseph, a living embodiment of the Ur-Species’ protective encoding, dissipates to re-energize the barrier with the mysterious force that never appears on sensors. So, in other words: the child of destiny, product of a billion-year-old plan, and infused with otherwordly power, sacrifices himself for the salvation of all in the galaxy, and for future generations to come, from the threat of devouring darkness. As messianic storylines go, you don’t get them much clearer—but wait! Who is the Christ-like figure’s father? Kirk! Therefore, Kirk… is God!
Yea, and ten score thousand of fanboys did proclaim: “I knew it!” Sigh. Shatner, Shatner, Shatner. If ego could be harnessed as an energy source, this man could power the whole eastern seaboard by himself.One thing that I simply must talk about—and I know this is rather anal, but, hey, it’s a Trek board, right? Let he who does not obsess over details cast the first stone and such. The name of Kirk’s ship, the so-called Belle Rêve, is grammatically incorrect. In French, most words are gendered male or female. “Rêve” is male; however, “belle” is a female adjective, and as such does not accord. It should have been “Beau Rêve”. Now, I realize that the gendering of words in French has no rhyme or reason and is difficult to grasp for non-native speakers, and that this is a relatively minor error, but given how often the ship’s name came up, I really wish someone would have bothered to check their grammar with somebody who knew French well. Reading Glory was like trying to listen to an orchestra when the second chair violinist is drunk: a sour note sounds regularly, preventing a truly immersive experience.
So, when one gets right down to it, Captain’s Glory pretty much sticks to the formula established by previous Shatnerverse novels, but with sufficiently different elements in the usual roles to keep the story fresh and interesting, helped by a plot that takes off quickly and doesn’t relent (except for that Kirk-Picard dust-up in the middle, which gets a bit long). Recommendations? If you’ve enjoyed previous Shatnerverse books, you’ll probably like this one. If you thought they were egotistical, overblown, poorly characterized and kinda trashy… well, it’s that too. Caveat lector.
Fictitiously yours, Trent Roman
