Never Mourn Black Omne
| Star Trek TOS Fanfiction | |
|---|---|
| Title: | Never Mourn Black Omne |
| Author(s): | Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath |
| Date(s): | pre-1977 |
| Length: | 190 pages |
| Genre: | gen, though some would say pre-slash |
| Fandom: | Star Trek: The Original Series |
| External Links: | |
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Never Mourn Black Omne is odd duck, a 190-page (single sided) fanfic by Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath. It is the privately-printed, rough draft that became two pro books: The Price of the Phoenix and The Fate of the Phoenix.
Origin of the Title
The title is used as part of the blurb for The Fate of the Phoenix: "Never mourn Black Omne was the warning. Now through the Phoenix miracle of rebirth, the dread enemy lives again. Kirk, Spock and the Enterprise crew must grapple hand to hand with the most dangerous arch villain in the galaxy, the giant, evil, immortal Omne who has vowed revenge."
Its Background
It is unclear how widely it was printed and distributed to fans prior to its pro publication.
From an eBay seller in October 2013: "This is the story that they revised and published through Bantam Books in two volumes as 'The Price of the Phoenix' and 'The Fate of the Phoenix'. Prior to reaching an agreement with Paramount Pictures and Bantam Books, this book existed as an unauthorized and controversial self-published volume in this extremely limited edition. As such, there is no artwork inside or out, no title page, no copyright page, no mention of Star Trek whatsoever. The first page starts right in with the story and goes for a total of 190 pages, one side only. It is essentially a fanzine bound in large hardcover form with the title on the spine and that's it. This story has its fans and those who detest it. Some feel that it crosses the line into slash fiction between Kirk and Spock, with thinly veiled scenes, etc. Omne himself seems at times like some kind of a bondage-torture master."
First Page of "The Price of the Phoenix"
Dr. McCoy had one thought in his mind: Spock must be spared this! He turned hastily to the next transporter position and took Spock by the arm.The Vulcan did not even protest as McCoy led him off the platform. McCoy wanted to steer him through the corridors of the Enterprise, hustle him to the haven of Sickbay—anything but let the Vulcan stay and see the security men bringing up the stretcher with the bodybag.
But Spock stopped at the transporter console. He planted himself like a rock with that immovable Vulcan strength, and now his peculiar immobility amounted almost to catatonia.
"Energize," Spock said, in a shockingly normal voice.
Scotty stood at the control console himself. He looked blasted, empty, suddenly old. His shoulders struggled to hold themselves at attention, as if they were an honor guard. His hands worked the controls with special care… as if it could matter now.
Uhura stood inside the door, neither explaining her presence nor apologizing for the tears which ran quietly down the beautiful dark face.
The transporter shimmered.
The two Enterprise security men materialized, took a firmer grip on the anti-grav lifts, and stepped carefully off the platform with the stretcher that bore the body of Captain James T. Kirk.
First Page of "Never Mourn Black Omne"
Dr. McCoy turned hastily to the next transporter position and took Spock's arm.The Vulcan did not even protest as McCoy led him off the platform, wanting to steer Spock through the corridors of the Enterprise, hustle him to the haven of Sickbay -- certainly not let the Vulcan stay and see the security men bringing up the stretcher, the bodybag.
But Spock turned by the transporter console and planted himself like a rock with that immovable Vulcan strength, and now with the peculiar immobility that amounted to almost catatonia. "Energize," Spock said in a shockingly normal voice.
Scotty stood at the control console himself, looking blasted, empty, suddenly old. His shoulders struggled to hold themselves at attention, as if they were an honor guard. The Chief Engineer's hands worked the controls by rote, but with special care, as if it could matter now.
Uhura stood beside the door, not explaining or apologizing for her presence nor for the tears which ran quietly down the beautiful dark face. She had been at her communications station until they were ready to beam up.
The transporter shimmered, its familiar effect looking a little off, and the two Enterprise security men materialized, took a firmer grip on the anti-grav lifts, and stepped carefully off the platform with the stretcher bearing the body of Captain James. T. Kirk.