Gemini (15 page)

Behind him and to his left, furtive footfalls crushed grass. Without time to bring his phaser around, Kirk pivoted and brought his free hand up, clenched into a fist, aimed low.

The figure gave a low moan of pain and crumpled next to Kirk. He yanked the figure closer, pulled the hood of his robe back, and saw the face, bordered by gold, of Lieutenant Sinclair.

“Dammit, Sinclair,” Kirk said, keeping his voice low, “don't you know the protocol for approaching friendly personnel in a combat situation?”

“Sorry, sir,” she grunted, getting the wind back in her. “I won't forget next time.”

“If there is one.” The opposition—Kirk judged there to be about six of them, counting the first—had halted their approach, crouching behind trees as they dodged phaser fire, responding every few seconds with their own.

Kirk heard a low whistle from some distance away on the right. He lifted his head and peered carefully into the darkness. A human silhouette lifted a hand in a pre-arranged gesture Kirk recognized.

“Either Giotto or Chekov is to the right of us,” said Kirk to Sinclair. “It's time to take the offensive.”

“How exactly do we do that, sir?” asked Sinclair, with no trace of irony.

“Like this.” Kirk gave a low whistle, which Sinclair recognized and made preparations for. Kirk, meanwhile, produced a canister from the depths of his robe and tossed it into the middle of the trees.

“Hold your breath!” he shouted. The canister arced to the ground, where it exploded, releasing a thick cloud into the night air.

Their assailants continued to advance through the gas.

“They're probably wearing gas masks,” said Sinclair, her tone baffled.

“I hope so,” whispered Kirk, with a grim smile. “I gave them enough warning.”

“Sir?” But Kirk's only reply was to fling another object, this one a small, silver sphere that followed nearly the same path as the canister—

—then exploded soundlessly into a miniature nova. In an instant the copse of trees became a study in harsh black and white.

Not that Kirk could appreciate its stark beauty; his eyes were closed, as were Sinclair's. But the eyes of their assailants were wide open. They had been prepared for the gas attack, but were taken by total surprise by the blinding flare.

Kirk tapped Sinclair's arm and they charged forward. The flare had expended its brilliance in an instant, and their attackers were reeling unsteadily, as though drunk.

Chekov and Giotto also emerged from behind trees, charging their opponents, firing phasers as they came. The gas swirled around the landing party, but the injections they had received immunizing them to the nerve-deadening abilities of the gas before they had beamed down functioned exactly as planned.

A couple of their attackers must have heard them coming and fired their weapons blindly. Kirk straightarmed Sinclair, taking her out of the line of fire, then gave the first assailant a martial-arts chop that quickly rendered him
hors de combat.
He wheeled, preparing to attack the second, but found him lying at Giotto's feet.

“Didn't mean to hog your fun, Captain,” he said, slyly.

“Plenty for everyone, Chief,” responded Kirk. Not far away, Sinclair got groggily to her feet. Kirk approached her, but she waved away any assistance. “Sorry, Lieutenant, but—”

“I understand, sir,” she said, shaking her head. Kirk hoped she wasn't getting used to being decked by superior officers.

“Captain, look!” said Chekov, pointing off.

Kirk followed his line of sight, just in time to see the tall statue of Their Serene Highnesses topple over, severed at the base by someone's weapon. Its descent was accompanied by a fearsome screech of sundered metal, and the panicked cries of many of the populace as they tried to dodge it.

The double-faced statue hit the ground with a sick thud, bouncing like a felled tree and calling up a cloud of dust that obscured the whole scene.

“Giotto, you and Sinclair get over there, see if anyone's hurt!”

“Aye, Captain,” said Sinclair, dashing off to join Giotto, who was already on his way.

“What about them, Captain?” asked Chekov, indicating their assailants.

“Make sure they're disarmed, then revive them for questioning,” said Kirk, tersely. He bent to the nearest member of their team, carrying out his own instructions. He pulled back the person's hood.

This time he did gasp. He was staring at the face of Chief Securitrix Llora.

“W
E ARE AWAITING
an explanation, Captain Kirk,” said Regent Lonal.

“And so am I, Regent Lonal,” replied Kirk.
The best defense is a good offense,
he thought, grimly.

Around them, in the throne room of the Royal Palace, interested parties coughed nervously, shuffled their feet, and tried to pretend that their interest in the proceedings was motivated solely by concern for the throne and the good of the people of the planet Nador.

It was almost as if the interrogation following the attack upon the princes aboard the
Enterprise
had been resumed here. Regent Lonal, seated in his official seat to one side of the two-sided throne normally occupied by Their Serene Highnesses, tried to act as though he was worthy of the power he wielded in the absence of Princes Abon and Delor. Counselors Docos and Hanor hovered at either side of the gathering, Docos unimposing but constantly watchful, Hanor looking more magnificently than ever like a gargoyle belonging on the rain gutter of some old Earth church. Commissioner Roget's presence seemed to lend a dignity to the proceedings, though his manner was one of a father who was deeply disappointed in the conduct of his charges. The Lady Pataal hovered in the background, her manner less effusive than usual, dark smudges under her almond eyes making her look older than her years.

And, to one side of Regent Lonal, Chief Securitrix Llora, standing stock-still, yet conveying the impression that she not only could erupt into indignant action at any minute, but would. Her dark eyes never left Kirk; in other circumstances, he would have been flattered.

“You
are awaiting an explanation from
us?”
asked Lonal. There was something about his manner that bothered Kirk, something about his choice of words … well, it couldn't be more important than the matter at hand.

“I am,” said Kirk, taking a few steps forward. The rest of the security party had beamed back aboard the
Enterprise,
at Kirk's orders. Giotto wanted to accompany Kirk, “just in case,” he had said, gravely, one hand on his phaser, but Kirk had sent him on his way. Best to handle this alone.

“I would like to know,” said Kirk, his tone one of considerable understatement, “why a matter concerning the security and well-being of a Federation citizen—who has been reported to your office as missing—was kept from me, and was attended to by palace security?”

Regent Lonal began to speak, but was cut off by an icy tone from Chief Securitrix Llora, who had not even looked at him. Lonal took this with a sniff of indignation, but suffered the palace's chief security officer to continue. “As noted earlier, Captain,” she said, her voice precise and cutting as one of McCoy's exoscalpels, “the Federation citizen Peter Kirk was wanted for questioning regarding his association with the rioters who broke into the palace. While we agreed to let you have custody of the young man, in the interest of peaceful relations with the Federation, we regarded our interest in Peter Kirk as having established prior jurisdiction. Thus, when we received a message as to his whereabouts—”

“That's what I want to know,” said Kirk, pouncing on the disclosure. “How did you know where to go?”

“My security office maintains an open line of communication, upon which any information concerning matters pertaining to security may be left—anonymously, of course.”

“Of course,” said Kirk, with a poisonous smile. “And you learned of Peter's alleged whereabouts through this network?”

“Just a moment, Captain Kirk,” said Regent Lonal, “it is you who are being questioned here. Did your ship receive a similar communiqué regarding the location of your nephew?”

“Yes,” said Kirk with an impatient nod. “Yes, we did. And we—”

“And you did not think it imperative to notify us?”

“The regent will understand,” said Kirk, with a contriteness he did not feel, “if my concern for not only a Federation citizen but a blood relation of mine temporarily took precedence over my duties as a diplomat.”

“Of course,” said Lonal, blandly.

“It seems obvious,” continued Kirk, “that some agency was responsible for notifying both our parties of the alleged whereabouts of my nephew, in an attempt set us against one another, to create another diplomatic incident—a firefight which could have counted both a Nadorian high palace official”—he gestured at Llora, who did not acknowledge it—“and a Federation captain in its casualties. I submit that when we find who was behind notifying both our offices of the alleged whereabouts of my nephew, we will find the party who secreted a transmitter on the princes, enabling them to be attacked while they were aboard the
Enterprise.
If we do not bring all our resources to bear upon this matter, such disputes may become the cause for severing diplomatic ties between Nador and the Federation—which is exactly what our mutual foes wish.”

“And may still achieve,” said Counselor Docos. It was as if one of the chairs had spoken. All eyes turned to him. Most had even forgotten he was there.

“What do you mean, Counselor?” asked Counselor Hanor.

“There were casualties caused by the toppling of the statue of Their Serene Highnesses—an unfortunate piece of symbolism,” he said, never one to let the obvious go unsaid. “Should any of those casualties worsen into fatalities … ” His voice trailed off, apparently not wishing to state two obvious facts in the same breath.

“My men were ordered to set their weapons only on stun,” said Kirk, firmly. “Such a setting is not powerful enough to sever a massive statue. It must have been one of the Nadorian weapons that caused the statue to collapse. Such a determination could easily be made by scientific examination—”

“In such incidents, it is of little moment to attribute fault,” said Commissioner Roget. “It would be most unfortunate if an incident, motivated by rabble-rousers, were the cause of a rift in Nadorian-Federation relations.”

“Perhaps even enough to delay the handover?” asked Lonal.

“No one is talking about that, Regent Lonal,” said Roget, slowly. “The Federation does not consider that an option.”

“Such an option would doubtless endanger more than diplomatic relations,” said Kirk. “It would place the lives of the Federation citizens in Nador in severe jeopardy.” He turned to Llora. “What measures are you taking to ensure their safety?”

“All reasonable measures have been taken to preserve the safety of Federation nationals,” said Llora, as if reading from a press download. “The Nadorian people take seriously their responsibility as hosts—more so, Captain, than you do, I think.”

“Securitrix, silence!” said Lonal with a hiss.

“No, let her speak,” said Kirk, taking a step forward. “What do you mean?”

“Many of our people say you are holding Their Serene Highnesses hostage to ensure the desired outcome to the decision of the Nadorian people concerning the handover—desired by you, of course.”

Kirk tamped down his temper, shrugged, and smiled—the last expression he knew they would expect to see on his face. “Do you deny that, given the nature of the princes'wounds, they can best be cared for on the
Enterprise?”

“No, but—”

“Indeed, is not the medical care on the
Enterprise
far better than any they could receive on your planet?” He shifted his gaze quickly to Regent Lonal. “Meaning no offense, sir.” Lonal had barely managed a formal nod before Kirk spoke again. “I understand your desire to have your monarchs returned home. But my chief surgeon is the monarch of his medical facility, and in those matters, his dictates are not subject to question, not even by his captain.” Kirk made a helpless shrug, and saw that a few of the members of the inquisition managed a faint smile.

“Perhaps this, Regent Lonal,” said Kirk, while the current was still flowing in his favor. “A planetwide address by Their Serene Highnesses to the Nadorian people, from the
Enterprise.
Would that allay your people's fears as to the condition of the monarchs?”

Counselors Docos and Hanor quickly approached Lonal as if drawn by magnetism. For several seconds three voices rose and fell as each fought for supremacy. Finally, Counselors Docos and Hanor stood away from Regent Lonal, who faced Kirk with great dignity. “Such an address to the Nadorian people would be well received, Captain,” he said. “How may we facilitate this?”

“I'll have my chief engineer contact you,” replied Kirk. “Between you, you can work out a proper date and time for the address.”

“We look forward to hearing from him,” said Lonal with an imperious nod. Kirk tipped his head in agreement, still wondering what it was about Lonal that was rubbing him the wrong way. His appearance? His conduct? No, nothing like that. At least, no more so than usual. Then what … ?

No matter. The meeting was breaking up; Kirk made a few gestures and nodded. Lonal rose from his seat as some of the other members of the audience stayed to speak with one another.

Trying not to make it look like he was hurrying, Kirk ran after Chief Securitrix Llora, and tapped her gently on the shoulder. Though she must have heard Kirk's advance across the stone floor of the throne room—Kirk had made no secret about his approach—she nonetheless wheeled as if taken by surprise. Kirk found his right wrist caught in a grip whose constricting force seemed to be that of a crushing vine, rather than that of a human being. Kirk briefly wondered what else those hands were capable of, but dismissed that thought under the category of wishes he'd probably never see granted.