Assassination Game (8 page)

“I wish to go there,” Lartal said.

Kirk was taken aback. He wanted to go into the city? Why? Did Lartal’s decision have something to do with the scan he’d just done? Downtown San Francisco was something like seven or eight kilometers away. Kirk knew the Varkolak sensor technology was legendary, but no handheld scanner could have picked up anything at that range.

Could it?

“Well, sure,” Kirk said. “I suppose.” He looked to the two Starfleet Security officers, to see if there was an official objection, but they were just as stumped as Kirk was. “Why?”

Lartal’s tongue lolled out over his sharp teeth, and Kirk wondered if the Varkolak had to pant like a dog to regulate his body temperature under all that fur.

“To … sightsee,” Lartal said with a wolfish grin.

Right
, Kirk thought.
Because you’ve been so interested in the sights so far
.

“All right. Well, your wish is my command. Whenever you’re ready, we can catch a ferry over to the city.”

Lartal put a foot up on one of the benches that overlooked the bay and the bridge. Kirk thought the Varkolak was taking one last look at the impressive vista before leaving, but then he heard a hissing sound, and realized Lartal had sprayed something on the bench.

“Whoa! Hey, no! What are you—No graffiti!” Kirk said.

“I have not permanently marked it,” Lartal said. “Merely added my own personal scent to”—the Varkolak sniffed—“the human
fetor
that already exists in this place. It will not linger more than a few days. Now, take me to the city.”

Kirk shook his head. This was going to be one
long
afternoon.

Bones was at his desk in the room they shared when Kirk got back at the end of the day. Kirk hadn’t kept track, but Lartal had to have walked at least twenty
kilometers all over San Francisco, and those weren’t flat kilometers either. Kirk collapsed facedown onto his bed.

“Bones, you will not believe the kind of day I’ve had. First, Lartal skips out on the medical tours. Then we check out the Marin Headlands, where he sprays Varkolak perfume on a bench. Then we go into San Francisco, where he howled on every other street corner and spritzed every other trash can and light pole with his scent. I didn’t know if we were going to get a ticket for vandalism or disturbing the peace, or both. In the end, I think the cops were so scared of him, they just said, ‘It’s Starfleet’s deal’ and left it to us.”

“That’s interesting,” Bones said in a tone that made it sound like it was anything but.

Kirk shifted to look at him. Bones was staring off into space.

“And then Lartal ate a baby,” Kirk said, just to see if Bones was listening. “Just snatched it right up out of a baby carriage and wolfed it down.”

“Uh-huh,” Bones said. “Listen, Jim, I think I’m ready to get back on the horse. With Nadja.”

“Ah. I see.” Kirk sat up on his bed. “Well, first, I recommend you not use that expression when you tell her the same thing.”

“I’m serious, Jim. It’s taken me a long time to get over Jocelyn, but I think it’s time.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Bones. Got a first date all planned out?”

“We already kind of had one. We took her dog for a walk out along the Marin Headlands.”

Kirk chuckled—he’d done much the same thing today. “Listen, Bones, taking a dog for a walk is not romantic in the least. You need something with candles and wine and stars next time.”

“Yeah,” Bones said, like he had an idea. “Wait a minute.
Did you just tell me that Varkolak doctor ate a baby?
”

“I was joking. But not about the other stuff.” Kirk leaned back wearily on his bed. “I’m not the right guy for this job, Bones. I don’t want to be this guy’s handler.”

“No—no. This is a golden opportunity for inter-species understanding, Jim. This is a big deal. You know how many Federation diplomats would love to have the chance you’ve got right now, to reach out to the Varkolak and find common ground?”

“Common ground? Bones, I’m lucky the man didn’t lift his leg at something.”

“Jim, you’re the right man for the job because the Varkolak
picked
you. That’s half the battle right there, getting them to trust one of us. God knows there aren’t enough of us who trust them. And if you don’t do it for the sake of interstellar relations, do it for your service record, Jim. Your record’s spotty enough as it is. You need
a win here, a gold star to balance out all those black
X
s.”

“Thanks,” Kirk said, but he knew Bones was right.

“Look, the next time this Lartal wants to go out somewhere, share with him something
you
like to do. At least then you’ll have a good time. Maybe even stay out of trouble. If he even leaves campus again. The medical conference starts tomorrow, and he’ll be tied up with seminars all day and official receptions all night.”

“All right. Yeah. Thanks, Bones,” Kirk said, although he wondered again if Lartal really was the doctor he claimed to be. And if he wasn’t, what was he doing here?

Uhura turned on the sonic shower and sighed in relief as the pulse vibrations massaged her, removing the sweat and grime from her morning workout in the Academy Sports Complex. She’d pushed herself extra hard this morning, and she knew she would pay for it later. Probably while she was standing on the dais with the linguistics team, helping to translate the Federation president’s remarks.

Stupid.

She’d told herself it was just to step up her regimen, but here in the privacy of her sonic shower stall, alone with nothing but her thoughts, she knew the truth of it. She’d worked herself to the point of exhaustion, trying to exorcise the demons that had kept her up all night. How could he be so blind? Couldn’t he see how she looked at him? How she acted around him? And how could she have been so stupid, falling in love with someone who had spent most of his life suppressing his emotions? Someone who
didn’t know how to return her love? It was easy to picture Spock in place of the punching bag when doing her Suus Mahna practice, but even that hadn’t been satisfying. Deep down she knew why: Spock hadn’t misled her. She’d misled herself. She’d read more into the commander’s offer of friendship than he’d meant. He was a Vulcan, damn it. All right, maybe half-Vulcan, but all Vulcan when it came to the choice of cold hard logic over emotion. She slapped a hand on the softly glowing wall of the sonic shower. How could she have been so stupid?

“Cadet Uhura,” someone said, and Uhura jumped.

“Who’s there?” Uhura asked.

The blurry shadow of another person appeared on the other side of the frosted wall. It was someone in the next stall, leaning close to the wall that separated them so Uhura could see her silhouette.

“We have received your acceptance to our invitation. Welcome, Cadet Uhura, to the Graviton Society.” It was hard to hear whoever it was over the hum of the sonic shower, but Uhura gathered that was kind of the point.

“You could have waited until I was a little more decent.”

“The Graviton Society has a mission for you,” the shadow in the next stall said. “We wish for you to steal one of the Varkolak’s sensing devices.”

“
What?
Steal one of their scanners? You’ve got to be kidding!”

“You have unique access to the Varkolak through your linguistics work. It should be possible.”

“But it’s wrong! They’re our guests. I mean, I know they’re our enemies, too, but—”

“You joined the Graviton Society to protect the Federation, Cadet Uhura. Are you backing out on that decision?”

“I—No,” she grumbled. This was definitely not what she’d had in mind when she’d agreed to go undercover in the Graviton Society, but now she was committed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“The Graviton Society expects success,” the woman told her. “Shields up.”

Uhura assumed that was some sort of society sign off. The shadow disappeared from the wall, and the door to the next shower stall banged shut.

“Shields up,” Uhura said to the empty stall, still feeling exposed. She was going to have to talk to Spock about this, which meant she was going to have to see him again sooner than she wanted to. Uhura sighed and cranked up the sonic pitch as high as it would go.

The red-orange tops of the Golden Gate Bridge stuck up out of a sea of fog that morning as McCoy found himself standing at the tip of the Marin Headlands for the second
time in two days. He was there with other top medical cadets at the invitation of Starfleet Medical, as part of the official opening ceremonies for the Interspecies Medical Summit. The dais where the Federation president was due to speak was arranged so the crowd would have the best possible view of the bridge and the bay beyond, but, of course, today the weather hadn’t cooperated. With a scowl, McCoy wondered if they might even get rained on.

We can travel faster than the speed of light, and break a person down to bits and transport him through space, but we still can’t control the weather
, McCoy groused to himself, but truth be told, he was a little glad of that. There ought to be some things that always remained outside their control, just to remind them they weren’t the masters of the universe. Being omnipotent would just make most people more insufferable.

The part of the overlook usually open to the public had been roped off for the ceremony, and classes had been suspended for the morning, so the Academy could show up en masse for the president’s speech. At a guess, McCoy would say most of them were here, though some he knew would take the opportunity to get caught up on their homework. Or their sleep. There were dignitaries here too—doctors and politicians from nearly every Federation member world, and plenty more besides. The Varkolak were there as well, and McCoy wondered how
many of the cadets had come out just for the chance to see their mysterious visitors. Jim Kirk stepped up onto the dais with the white-collared Varkolak, Dr. Lartal, and McCoy nodded hello from across the stage. If Kirk played his cards right with this one, he could win himself some major points with the Academy brass—and better, the Starfleet brass.

“Oh good. I see we’re letting the
krogs
into the
vorsch
pit now,” said a sarcastic voice from behind McCoy. He turned. It was Daagen, the medical cadet McCoy had seen here the night before, waving a
VARKOLAK, GO HOME
sign. McCoy took his comment to be a Tellarite expression, along the lines of letting a fox into the henhouse, but he didn’t challenge him. Not here. Not now. The Varkolak just being here was argument enough against Daagen’s xenophobic attitude.

McCoy saw another familiar face: Cadet Uhura, doing some kind of a wiggling dance in front of one of the Varkolak doctors. He realized it was a form of communication only when the doctor she’d been dancing for started barking and dancing in response. Now
there
was somebody who would actually change the face of the galaxy one day, he thought. Not a doctor or an engineer or a starship captain, but a linguist. Someone who could bridge the biggest gap facing interplanetary peace: simply understanding what the devil everyone else was talking about.