Gemini (4 page)

Kirk's attention was abruptly seized by the chamber they had entered. It was wide and spacious. A small band of musicians at one end of the room played what he took to be the Nadorian equivalent of chamber music, compositions he found to be unusual, but melodic. As he entered, he had thought the chamber already occupied by several persons, but now, as he neared what he had taken to be the room's occupants, he found them to be statues, apparently—the fine arts weren't his strong point—of the same style as those he had seen earlier in Commissioner Roget's quarters and Regent Lonal's office.

“Excuse me,” whispered Pataal. “I must help prepare Their Serene Highnesses for their entrance. I hope we shall have a chance to talk later. Your starship must have taken you to many exciting places.”

“I'd like that,” replied Kirk, satisfied that no breaches of interplanetary protocol had been committed—yet. She curtsied and was gone.

“Charming girl,” said McCoy, absently, as he, Spock and Barrows caught up to him.

“Delightful,” said Kirk, evenly. “Spock, these statues—”

“Excellent examples of ancient Nadorian sculpture, Captain,” said Spock. He stood before one now, and Kirk noted that the statue stood simply on the antechamber floor, unprotected and unseparated from the crowd in any way.

“It is beautiful, but they're asking for something to happen to it, leaving it out this way,” said McCoy.

“It is the Nadorian custom to display their statuary in this manner, Doctor,” replied Spock, examining the sculpture closely. “Far more civilized than attempting to view such an objet d'art from afar.”

“I agree, I just hope they don't have much problem with vandalism.”

Spock shook his head slightly. “The Nadorians are taught from an early age to value and appreciate art.”

A liveried servant bearing a tray of drinks approached them. They took slender glasses with hinged lids, inside which was a bubbling liquid that seemed to be on the verge of evaporating before their eyes.

“Vapor dew,” said Yeoman Barrows, excitedly. “They're really treating us like royalty.”

“And I'm sure they expect the same,” said McCoy. He thumbed the small handle, lifting the lid of his glass, and inhaled the vapor produced by the volatile liquid. “And I'll be happy to,” he added, smiling. “This is excellent.”

“Spock, do you know how these statues are sculpted?” Kirk asked, lowering the lid on his own drink.

“Through the use of psionics, Captain,” replied Spock. “Though the past tense would be more appropriate.”

“Hang on a minute, Spock,” McCoy said indignantly. “The medical reports on the Nadorians indicate that their telekinetic potential is little different from that of humans.”

Spock nodded. “In the present, that is quite correct, Doctor,” said Spock. He continued to stare at the statue, gesturing with an index finger whose motion followed its lines. “But should you examine the history of the Nadorians, you will find that, as recently as ten centuries ago, their ancestors were indeed possessed of formidable telekinetic powers. Many of them turned their hand—”

“Or their minds,” said Kirk with a smile.

“—to the fine arts. Many hundreds of such statues have been unearthed, and experts feel many remain to be yet discovered. Such statues command high prices across the galaxy in those rare instances when they become available.”

“But I read every one of the Starfleet planetary surveys of Nador, and there wasn't a word about psionic powers,” said McCoy.

“Such data is to be found only in the historical reports of the planet, Doctor,” replied Spock, evenly. “As the various tribes mingled and intermarried, such psionic powers were gradually bred out of the race. Experts theorize that such abilities were needed in ancient times, but no longer when Nadorian society reached a certain level of civilization.”

“It's happened before,” said McCoy, thinking it over. “The theory is that humans once had a third eye, certain species of the dryworm of Antos IV have been found with the remnants of gills, and, of course, there's the Vulcan inner eyelid.”

“Which, happily, has not been bred out of the race,” said Spock. McCoy smiled at that, no doubt remembering the events of Deneva. Those events of some months back called to Kirk's mind first and foremost his late brother, Sam, and his nephew, Peter, and he scanned the crowd for any sign of the boy, but found none.

“So they can't carve any more statues like these?” asked Yeoman Barrows, sadly. “What a shame. The grace, the form … it's remarkable. Almost like a living being, caught in stasis.”

“And so the Nadorian aesthetic makes another conquest,” said a voice behind them, in the tones of one who had long ago succumbed to the same desire. They turned, to see Commissioner Roget approaching, escorting a woman near to his own age. “Captain James T. Kirk, my wife, Janine.”

“An honor, Mrs. Roget,” said Kirk. “May I present my staff?”

Janine Roget was an elderly woman who had obviously come to terms years ago with the fact of her aging, and had made no pretensions about holding on to her vanished youth. As a consequence, with her nearly elfin features, surmounted by a pair of green eyes and a mane of gray hair, making no attempt to seem young, she seemed younger than most beautiful women Kirk had known who fruitlessly clung to their departing years. The Rogets were holding hands, a gesture Kirk found sweetly endearing.

“It will be a pleasure to return home to Earth,” said Janine Roget after Kirk finished the introductions, “though I must confess I shall regret having to leave such beautiful things behind.”

“Janine's working on a history of Nadorian sculpture,” said Roget, proudly. “As for leaving beautiful things behind, dear, from my perspective, I'm taking this planet's most comely treasure with me.” He squeezed her hand, and she actually blushed as the rest of Kirk's crew exchanged an appreciative smile (with the exception, of course, of Spock).

A servant circulated among them again, collecting the containers of vapor dew and distributing glasses containing a green liquid. “What's this?” asked McCoy, sniffing it carefully. “It looks like a glass of algae.”

“I shouldn't drink that just yet, Doctor,” said Commissioner Roget, taking glasses for himself and his wife. “It's for the ceremonial introduction of Their Serene Highnesses.”

“Tell me, Commissioner,” asked Kirk, before the ceremonies started in earnest, “have you seen my nephew, Peter? I was hoping he'd be here.”

“He told me he would be, Captain,” replied Roget, looking toward something else. “He was quite looking forward to seeing you. I wouldn't worry, I'm sure he's just—”

Roget was interrupted by a flare of louder music from the band of musicians as they began playing a piece of music Kirk actually recognized—the planetary anthem of Nador. Regent Lonal emerged from the crowd and stood next to a huge pair of double doors. The music stopped as Lonal gestured to them, and Kirk realized that even in here he could still hear the murmuring of voices he had noted earlier. He was wondering idly who they were, when Lonal cleared his throat.

“My friends and allies of Nador,” he said, “I thank you all for your gracious presence here tonight as we greet our honored guests, Captain James Kirk and his crew of the Federation starship
Enterprise.”
There was a smattering of applause, which Kirk nodded to, gratefully.

“And now,” said Regent Lonal, warming to his subject, “I have the honor to present the cherished rulers of the planet Nador, they whose wisdom and grace illumines our every day, Their Serene Highnesses, Prince Abon and Prince Delor.” Lonal stepped to one side of the double doors as they swung open and a single figure walked forward. Kirk was a little surprised on seeing the figure's bulk, which belied the youthful age of the princes—and didn't Lonal introduce them both … ?

Then the figure emerged fully into the light. The glasses of those assembled were raised in tribute, save those of Kirk's entourage, most of whom were as startled as Kirk was.

A single figure stood in the doorway, a tall young man whose features contrived to be at once noble and attractively rough-hewn. Yet there seemed to be another person standing right behind him …

… Then the single figure turned, and Kirk realized the figure he had taken as one individual was actually two. Two men, who pivoted gracefully, letting the room take them in. Two men, as alike as two halves of an apple.

Two men, identical twins, joined at the spinal column.

“F
ASCINATING,” SAID
S
POCK
, with a slight catch to his voice which told Kirk he had actually been taken by surprise, though he knew the Vulcan would never admit it.

“You're becoming predictable, Mr. Spock,” said McCoy, under his breath. But his voice held the same startled quality as had Spock's; he clung to his perpetual baiting of Spock as a sane man would cling to a single known fact in a universe that had gone otherwise mad.

“Science is a matter of determining predictables, Doctor,” replied Spock, his equanimity restored.

“Gentlemen,” Kirk said with a hiss, “shut up.” He remembered the glass he was holding, raised it, then drank; later he would try to recall what he had imbibed, and fail. He recalled Roget's beginning a statement about “the physical situation” concerning the princes, and wished he had let him finish.

The Princes Abon and Delor had now turned sideways to the reception, giving the crowd an equal opportunity to see them both. They nodded and smiled, waving at the crowd, and gracing certain citizens with eye contact and a knowing smile. Of the two, it seemed to Kirk that Abon—if Kirk had properly distinguished them—bore the public greeting with better grace. Delor, though smiling politely enough, betrayed a certain impatience, a longing to have the thing done. Kirk recognized this expression because he had worn it many times himself during functions just like this one.

A palace functionary, dressed in clothes of the same royal blue and burnt orange color as the princes', though of course of a different style, approached Kirk. He bowed politely and asked, with the spread of a hand, for Kirk to follow him. Kirk moved off and nodded to Spock, McCoy, and Barrows, who followed.

“This I have got to see,” said McCoy to Spock.

“I, too, confess much curiosity, Doctor,” replied Spock.

Commissioner Roget, who had preceded them to the princes, half-bowed, with his eyes raised to meet the gaze of the monarchs. Kirk waited at a respectful distance, patiently.

“Your Highnesses,” said Roget, formally, “I have the singular privilege of presenting the representative of the United Federation of Planets, Captain James T. Kirk of the
U.S.S. Enterprise.”

Kirk approached and imitated Roget's bow. The twins had turned, so only Delor (Kirk thought) now faced him. Should he wait for them to speak, or—

“The honor is ours, Captain,” said Delor, and it occurred to Kirk that of all the royalty he had met in his duties, Abon and Delor were the first who were justified in referring to themselves in the first-person plural. “How do you find Nador?”

“I've not had the pleasure of seeing much of it, Your Highness,” said Kirk, “but I've seen enough that I look forward to seeing more.”

“We hope you shall,” replied Delor, almost absently. Then—probably by some prearranged signal Kirk knew nothing of—the princes took two steps to their right, with the precision of marching troops, placing Kirk face-to-face with Abon. It was oddly like seeing the carved wooden figures in his grandmother's cuckoo clock back in Iowa spin around to announce the striking of the hour.

“Captain,” said Abon with a smile, extending a hand in a reasonable, if somewhat stiff, version of an Earth handshake. Kirk took Abon's hand and pumped it twice. “Your presence honors us. We spend many hours scanning the night skies—you must tell us all about your travels.”

“It is
you
who spend hours in the study of astronomy, Abon,” said Delor, wearily. This was, Kirk realized, his first confirmation that he had the twins straight. “I think our time would be spent in far better uses.”

“This is my first officer, Mr. Spock,” said Kirk quickly, “my chief medical officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy, and Yeoman Tonia Barrows.” All approached Abon and bowed similarly; then Abon turned and the process was repeated with Delor, who seemed particularly taken with Spock.

“If time permits, I should be grateful for the opportunity to discuss the science of logic as expounded upon by Nador's most prominent philosophers,” said Delor.

“I would find such a discussion most interesting,” replied Spock, “particularly in the position your philosophers have assigned to the superaltern as it affects the subalternate—”

“Not until Mr. Spock and I discuss the movements of planetary bodies,” came Abon's voice, from behind Delor.

Kirk glanced at Pataal, seeing dread growing in her eyes.

“I'm certain our visit will be long enough to accommodate all your desires, Your Highnesses,” said Kirk.

“Their Serene Highnesses shall proceed us into the Great Hall,” said Regent Lonal, somehow bowing submissively and urging the princes forward at the same time. Kirk wondered how they would proceed—with a kind of sideways crablike shuffle, or one possibly carrying the other? Instead, Delor took the lead with Abon backing behind him, in perfect synchronized footsteps, Abon stepping back with his right foot when Delor stepped forward with his left, with Abon's arms folded over his torso, eyes open, but staring into space, making no contact.
And they've lived their entire lives that way,
he thought. Rather than pity, which he suspected the princes would hate, Kirk's feelings were those of profound respect. Kirk and Commissioner and Mrs. Roget followed, with Spock, McCoy, and Barrows behind him.