Gemini (8 page)

“The majority of their conversation was confined to inquiries about life aboard a starship,” said Spock.

“I hope I'm not alone here,” said McCoy, in that martyr's voice whose tone belied his words, “but hasn't it occurred to you that it was only by a near-miracle that the princes weren't at least injured in the palace riot? If that mob had gotten to them—” He shook his head, drained his glass, and poured himself another couple of fingers after all.

“I believe the captain is well aware of that, Doctor,” said Spock, looking at Kirk with the same expression he used when facing him across a chessboard. “In fact, I might go so far as to say that the captain is counting on such an occurrence.”

“That's going a little far, Spock,” said Kirk, sipping brandy and feeling its fire prowl through him. He rose, pacing back and forth. “While I agree it's my personal desire to see whoever is agitating the rioters—not to mention who was behind the attack on my ship—”

“Which is almost certainly the same party,” said Spock.

“—which is almost certainly the same party, yes. While I would very much like to see them identified and brought to trial, I would be only slightly less satisfied if they faded into space and were never heard from again. The threat to the princes' lives and to the stability of Nador must be our primary concern.”

“Not much chance of them fading away,” said McCoy. “We've seen too many of their type, over too many planets.”

“I unfortunately agree,” said Kirk. “And it follows that, given the … efficiency of their kind, that the easiest way to destabilize Nador and blacken the eye of the Federation would be to kill the princes. Regicide.”

“Actually, that term refers precisely to the murder of a king, from its root,
regis,
from your Latin,” said Spock. “Barbaric, but often effective.”

“Brutally so, Spock. Faced with that probability, then, doesn't it make sense to bring the princes to an environment where we can virtually assure their continued good health?”

“Logical,” said McCoy, not looking at Spock.

“Indeed,” said Spock, emptying his glass and placing it on Kirk's desk. “And if some sort of attempt is made on the lives of the princes while they are aboard the
Enterprise
—”

“Then we'll have greatly narrowed the field of suspects, won't we?” smiled Kirk, refilling his officers' glasses and hoisting his own. “Gentlemen, to success.”

Both Spock and McCoy drank to the sentiment, but it seemed to Kirk that neither looked particularly confident.

* * *

It took some persuading to get everyone on board—literally as well as figuratively. Kirk knew that Princes Abon and Delor would virtually leap at the chance to accept Kirk's invitation to come aboard the
Enterprise,
but, as always seemed to be the case in these matters, the most direct course was the one most ensnarled by red tape. Kirk first issued the invitation through Commissioner Roget's office, who would in turn extend it to Regent Lonal, for eventual transmission to Their Royal Highnesses.

So in the end, Kirk was not surprised to have his invitation turned down. He would not have been surprised to find that it had never made it past Regent Lonal to Their Royal Highnesses.

“You played your best cards,” said McCoy. “Now what do we do?”

“We're not out of aces yet,” replied Kirk, with a sly smile that made McCoy feel sorry for whoever it was directed at. “Bones, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm going to pay a social call on Yeoman Barrows.”

“And what way should I take it?” said McCoy, irritably.

* * *

“Pataal?”

“This is she.”
The voice of the young consort sounded through the speaker.
“Who is this?”

“It's Tonia. Tonia Barrows. I'd hoped you wouldn't mind if I called you on your private—”

“Tonia! Oh, of course not!”
The girl practically gushed with relief.
“It's so good to talk to you! I was so sorry about that silly diplomatic incident.”

“Oh, me, too,” said Barrows. “You know, we're probably violating their silly ‘protocol' right now. I just called to say I'm sorry you won't be able to attend.”

“Attend? Attend what?”

“Captain Kirk had the idea of inviting Their Royal Highnesses aboard the
Enterprise
for a banquet tomorrow night, to apologize for the role the Federation citizens played in the riot. But, of course that won't happen—”

“Won't it?”
said Pataal.
“May I speak to you later?”

Yeoman Barrows closed the connection, and the viewscreen in her quarters went dark. “I feel just awful,” she said, turning. “Pataal's my friend.”

“Sometimes friends have to do things that may not seem very friendly, at first,” said Kirk, who had been standing out of range. “Just ask Spock and McCoy. But not in each other's hearing.”

* * *

“Captain Kirk?”

“Yes, Commissioner Roget. How are you, sir?”

“Very well, thank you. I'm calling to say that Princes Abon and Delor have accepted your offer of a state dinner and tour of the
Enterprise.”

“I'm delighted to hear it.”

“How did you ever get through to them?”

“The shortest distance between two points,” said Kirk, innocently.

* * *

“But what about the security issues involved, Captain?” Scotty asked, plaintively. “These people have barely discovered warp drive. Isn't showin' 'em engineerin' a violation of the Prime Directive—or some-thin'?”

“I'm quite familiar with the finer points of Starfleet General Order One, Scotty,” said Kirk, with no trace of irony, “but trust me, it doesn't apply here. I know you don't like having strangers in engineering, but it won't be for long.”

“Well, if I must,” said Scotty, with a manful shake of his head.

“That's the spirit,” said Kirk, clapping him on the shoulder. “I knew I could count on you.”

“Aye, sir,” said Scotty with a sigh. “You can that,” though it could be inferred from his manner that he would rather give the visitors a peek up his kilt.

* * *

The night of the state dinner found Kirk in virtually every corner of the
Enterprise
at once. The crew often thought of him as omnipresent, but this was the first time anyone could recall him actually attempting to achieve it.

Even Peter, who seemed to see his uncle every time he turned around. To this point, Peter Kirk had enjoyed his house arrest aboard the
Enterprise,
reacquainting himself with old friends and making some new ones, roaming the ship as he pleased. That all came to a stop one night when he returned to his cabin after a stint in the gym to find Kirk waiting for him.

“Peter.” His uncle smiled, too quickly. “I suppose you've heard what's going on tonight?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Peter, after a moment's thought. He wasn't sure if this was a trap; if so, was it better to feign ignorance or admit to the truth? Well, he had always been a bad liar.

“Did you have any plans?”

“Uh … nothing major, sir.”

“Good.” His uncle smiled the smile he used when he got his own way. “Because tonight, you're confined to quarters.”

“But, Uncle Jim—sir,” he corrected, seeing Kirk's smile morph instantly to a steely frown, “I had plans tonight. Lieutenant Sulu was going to show me some fencing moves, and—”

“Sulu's got bridge duty—he volunteered,” added Kirk, at his nephew's expression, which seemed more than a little suspicious. “I told him I'd tell you.”

“But why?” asked Peter.

“We've got lots of guests coming—Nadorian guests. You're still something of a sore point with them, and I want to make sure nothing happens to aggravate that wound until I can smooth things over with the Nadorians. You bouncing all around the ship, enjoying yourself, would be the last thing I need them to see, right now. Do you understand?”

“I guess.” He nearly sighed, until he realized that would have been the action of a little boy; the next words out of a child's mouth would have been: “But it isn't fair!” But Peter Kirk was no longer a child.

“Good,” said Kirk. “Thank you. I'll make it up to you. Oh,” he added, as a seeming afterthought, “the Nadorians may want a statement taken of your activities planetside—”

“I won't—”

“No one's asking you to turn in your friends,” said Kirk, in a soothing voice, “just a statement concerning your activities. Why don't you get started on that tonight?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kirk nodded reassuringly and headed for the door. “And Peter—thank you.”

“You already thanked me.”

“Not for that.” He smiled, and Peter saw something of his father in the sparkle in Kirk's eyes. “For not saying ‘It isn't fair.'”

Peter stood for a moment after the door closed, thinking, then roused himself and sat before the cabin's computer.

* * *

The quantity of transporter rooms aboard the
Enterprise
was probably sufficient to beam up the entire entourage of Princes Abon and Delor at once; such a display of Starfleet efficiency would almost certainly have impressed them. Nonetheless, Kirk chose to bring them up six at a time, in order to personally greet them.

“Gonna lay on the old charm, eh?” asked McCoy, skeptically.

“I wouldn't have put it in exactly those words,” said Kirk, as they headed for the transporter room, “but that's pretty much the idea, yes. I intend to be the first thing they see when they step off the pad.”

“Oh, given what happened the last time they saw you, that should be very reassuring.”

They arrived at the transporter room just in time to see Commissioner and Mrs. Roget materializing. The commissioner looked resplendent in his black uniform with silver trim, a color scheme that nicely complemented the gown worn by Mrs. Roget, which seemed to float around her like an argent mist. If Kirk was going to “lay on the old charm,” he thought, he might as well start with such a charming subject.

“Good evening, Captain,” said Roget, shaking hands with Kirk. “The others are waiting below. Oh, by the way—I took this opportunity to beam up a few more crates to your cargo hold, was that all right?”

“I hope storing your gear is the worst problem we have tonight,” replied Kirk. “Mr. Scott?”

“Counselors Docos and Hanor and Regent Lonal are signalin' ready for transport, sir,” said Scotty, who probably thought he owed himself a look at the strangers who would be intruding in his domain. Spock stood next to him, nodding and half-bowing to Commissioner and Mrs. Roget. Scotty gazed at Kirk for a moment, then said, “If you like, sir, I may be able to lose them in a transporter loop for a few hours.”

Kirk glared at Scotty; he had thought he was in better control of his features than that. “That won't be necessary, Mr. Scott,” he said, pasting on a smile. “Beam them aboard, nice and easy.”

The air over the transporter platform shimmered, then coalesced to form three figures. Counselors Docos and Hanor immediately shot a sharp glance at each other, as if each had suspected the other of planning some sort of midtransport mischief. It was Regent Lonal who was first to march off the transporter pad, toward Kirk.

“Regent Lonal, Counselors Docos and Hanor, on behalf of the United Federation of Planets and Starfleet Command, may I welcome you aboard the
U.S.S. Enterprise.”

“You may,” said the Regent. He met Kirk's gaze, but did not offer his hand. He looked around the room, slowly, then back at Kirk. “Is this your entire ship? It seems rather cramped.”

Kirk spoke quickly, to drown out a strangled eruption of indignation from somewhere behind the transporter controls. “This is but one of hundreds of chambers, Regent. By the end of the evening, you'll know her as well as I do.”

Counselor Hanor frankly shouldered Counselor Docos aside—
and with those shoulders, she could alter the course of an old Earth buffalo,
thought Kirk—and approached Kirk, offering her hand. Somewhat surprised by this coyness, Kirk gallantly took it and lightly kissed it, then shook hands with Docos, who offered his hand, in an obvious imitation of an Earth-style handshake, wearing a slightly embarrassed expression as he glanced at Hanor, as if to say, “What can you do?”

“Counselors, welcome to the
Enterprise,”
said Kirk. “I hope this is the first of many times our people travel together through the heavens.”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Docos, and he seemed to mean it.

Hanor smiled, said something indistinguishable, and headed to the edge of the crowd, to obtain a better view of the proceedings than Docos.

“The palace is signaling the princes are ready to come aboard, Captain,”
came Uhura's voice, from the transporter console.

“Then let's not delay this historic occasion any longer,” said Kirk. “Mr. Scott, beam them aboard.”

Once again the harnessed energies of the transporter hummed, and three figures materialized on the platform. No, four, Kirk corrected himself. The princes would naturally stand on the same pad. Flanking them on either side were the Lady Pataal, and—Kirk knew this to be unavoidable—Chief Securitrix Llora.

Kirk started forward to greet them, but was headed off by Llora, who seemed only to step from the platform but landed several feet from it. She scanned the room, dark eyes going from side to side, as if she expected phasers to pop out from behind every panel. Her energy weapon seemed to appear in her hand as if transported there. “Are you well, Your Highnesses?” she asked.

It was Delor who responded; Kirk knew this only because he was dressed primarily in blue. Otherwise, the twin princes seemed as alike to him as the conjoined figures on a playing card. “We are well, Securitrix,” said Delor.