Gemini (24 page)

“I join you in mourning our noble monarchs, Their Serene Highnesses, Princes Abon and Delor,” Lonal said. “A proper day of mourning will be scheduled later, but I wished to leave in your minds no doubt of my resolve to carry on their work of unifying our people as your regent.” The religious leader came forward and began to perform some some sort of ritual that Kirk gathered dealt with the transfer of royal power.

“The people have spoken,” Lonal then continued, “and their wish to join the Federation will be granted, as Princes Abon and Delor also desired.” Kirk glanced slowly across the royal chamber, having long ago learned that when important speeches were being made, more could be learned from the speech's reception than from the oration itself. He saw Counselors Docos and Hanor, at opposite ends of the royal dais, glaring alternately at each other, like two dogs who, having long drooled over a bone, found a third hound had snatched it from both of them, and at Regent Lonal, with an amalgam of undisguised envy and disdain.

“Let our enemies and the traitors among us know that Nador is a strong and united planet. Let them also know that whoever is responsible for the cowardly deaths of Their Serene Highnesses will be found and punished.” Then Kirk saw the Lady Pataal, gazing at Lonal, sobbing quietly, her pretty eyes filled with tears. No, Kirk realized, she wasn't looking at Lonal, but at the portrait behind him, the image of the princes.

“And so I ask for your support and for your prayers in this, our most crucial hour.” Lonal had risen from the throne during this last sentence and gestured to the transmitters.
A nice touch,
Kirk thought. The audience gave a smattering of applause, and the angle of the transmitters widened to include the audience, the realization of this causing Counselors Docos and Hanor to look like two children who had been caught raiding the cookie jar, before they joined in the applause with forced solemnity.

The hum of the transmitters ceased, and Lonal sank back into the throne, wiping perspiration with a sleeve of the royal robe in a gesture Kirk thought rather unregal. He nodded at Commissioner Roget and pointed across the hall, indicating he had business there first.

“Excuse me, my lady,” said Kirk, courteously. The Lady Pataal had crumpled into one of the chairs that lined the walls of the royal chamber, her face in her hands. “I just wanted to express my—”

Kirk was interrupted by the sudden action of having his mouth crushed against the Lady Pataal's soft shoulder as she leaped to her feet. Putting her arms around Kirk, she began sobbing anew. “Thank you so much, Captain,” she said, tearfully. “I wonder … ” She stepped back from Kirk and sniffed heartily, causing Kirk to wish he had a handkerchief to give her. “I wonder if I might come with you back up to your big ship? I wish to speak to my friend, Yeoman Barrows.”

“Of course. That is, if you have no business here.”

She lowered her gaze and shook her head. “There is nothing for me here anymore.”

“Don't make any hasty decisions,” said Kirk, too late remembering how he had hated being told that. “Can you please wait a few minutes? Mr. Spock and I have some business with the commissioner.”

“I will wait, yes.” Kirk nodded his thanks and walked away, seeing her head lower like a flower with a broken stem. If he were ten years younger …

He returned to Roget, who was talking with his wife and Spock. From the Rogets' faces, he assumed nothing of import was being discussed; Spock's face was imperturbable whether discussing the annual yield of the sea ranches on a pelagic planet, or the consequences of a violation of General Order Seven.

“Pardon me, Mrs. Roget,” Kirk said, smiling gallantly as he approached, “but we need to steal your husband for a few minutes.”

Janine Roget nodded with a sympathetic smile and a nod. She seemed frayed, paler, like a fine, beautiful fabric that has been nearly worn through. “It's been one of those days, hasn't it?” she sighed. “I don't know that I'll be sorry to leave this place. And Captain,” she said, as Kirk began to turn away, “I was very sorry to hear about your nephew. I'm sure it will all work out.”

“Thank you very much.” Kirk and Spock flanked Roget as they walked into one of the halls that protruded like spokes from the royal chamber. “It's funny your wife should mention my nephew,” Kirk said.

“Janine's like that,” said Roget, closing his eyes. The webwork of fine lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth seemed to have deepened; he looked tired and, for once, every year of his age. “She's been my secret weapon as an ambassador,” he said with a smile. “This does concern your nephew, Captain?”

“It does, Commissioner. I certainly don't want to leave him in a Nadorian jail with the charges against him. Is there any way—?”

“That I can get him remanded to your custody?” The aquiline head shook from side to side. “I'd already put out some feelers in that direction, but with the circumstances being what they are, no one will hear of it. I can't say I blame them.”

“Then you believe Captain Kirk's nephew is implicated in the regicide?” asked Spock.

“‘Implicated,' Mr. Spock? Most certainly Peter Kirk is being used as a pawn, of course. But unfortunately, most of those who could secure his release or transfer are in no mood to do so.”

“If anything happens to him … ”

“I'm sure nothing will, Captain,” said Roget. “I've already expressly reminded Llora through official channels that Peter Kirk is a Federation citizen and entitled to all rights and protections under Nadorian law—which is, I suppose, also Federation law now.”

“As long as the agreement stands,” said Kirk, quietly.

They had walked aimlessly through the palace halls, past the rows of statuary that seemed about to step down from their pedestals, to the outer perimeter of the palace. Not far beyond, the hall gave onto an open-air arch beyond which was a gate. Palace guards nervously walked back and forth on the palace side of the gate while on the other side roiled a mass of people who carried a banner:
NO FEDERATION
!
KEEP NADOR FREE
!

“Such sentiments, if widespread, could be deleterious to the enforcement of the handover agreement,” said Spock, who sometimes had a gift for saying what everyone else was thinking.

Kirk's communicator beeped.
“It's Admiral Fitzgerald, Captain.”

“Tell him I'll respond in a few minutes, Lieutenant.”

“He seems quite eager to talk to you, sir.”
Uhura's voice had a slight edge in it, which Kirk took as a warning.

“All right, tell him I'll be right—”

“I have an office here in the palace with a secure wave, Captain,” said Roget. “It's at your disposal.”

“Put the message through to Commissioner Roget's palace office in five minutes, Uhura. I trust the admiral can wait that long?”

“I hope so, sir,”
said Uhura, sounding not at all convinced.

Commissioner Roget's palace office, though fully equipped, showed few signs of heavy use. Kirk assumed Roget preferred his office in the Federation embassy. Still, the architecture, in the low, sloping style seen throughout the planet, was pleasing to the eye, and calming, something that could not be said for Admiral Fitzgerald's demeanor.

“Captain Kirk,”
said Fitzgerald, without prologue,
“Starfleet is extremely displeased over your handling of this matter.”

“I must confess the same, Admiral,” said Kirk, who then almost visibly watched Fitzgerald deflate. “The deaths of Princes Abon and Delor were a severe blow to the people of Nador. However, I believe it is still possible to resolve this matter satisfactorily to all parties, and to bring the princes' killers to justice.”

“Neither Starfleet Command nor the Federation Council shares your optimism,”
replied Fitzgerald.
“To that end, we are sending the
U.S.S. Potemkin
to Nador immediately, with a full complement of Starfleet troops. They will be ready to put down the anarchy you seem to be unable to.”

“Admiral,” said Kirk, choosing his words carefully, “if Starfleet troops set foot on this planet in any sizable quantity, I assure you they will be the
cause
of any such anarchy, not its antidote.”

“Captain Kirk is correct, Admiral,” said Roget. “The Nadorians are a proud people. To send such a contingent of troops would be to insult them grievously. In such an instance, they might even sever ties with the Federation entirely—”

“At which point the Nadorian Planetary Council would no doubt be quite amenable to opening negotiations with the Klingons,” said Spock, quietly.

“The
Potemkin
is scheduled to enter the Nadorian system in fifty hours,”
said Fitzgerald.
“I trust you will be able to resolve this without either anarchy or driving the Nadorians into the arms of the Klingons. Fitzgerald out.”

“Well,” said Kirk, in the silence that followed, “I'd say we've got our work cut out for us, Spock.”

“Indeed.”

“Commissioner, thanks for your hospitality,” said Kirk, as they left Roget's office. “I think,” he added dryly.

Roget nodded and even managed a chuckle. “You know where to find me if I can help.”

“Pataal?” called Kirk, his tone somewhat gentler as they passed into the royal chamber. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, Captain,” she murmured. “Thank you, Mrs. Roget,” she said, to the woman who had been keeping her company.

“Not at all, child. Good luck.” The two hugged, and then Pataal stood between Kirk and Spock—not precisely in the proper spot, but the transporter would sort that out.

Kirk pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. “Energize.”

“Pataal!” called Barrows to the girl, as they materialized on the transporter pad.

“Tonia, hello!” Pataal and Barrows embraced briefly and turned to go. Then the Nadorian swiftly ran back to Kirk.

“Captain, thank you again for all your kindness.” Impulsively, the young girl leaned toward Kirk and kissed him on the cheek, then ran down the
Enterprise
corridor.

“No thorns without roses,” said Kirk, with a smile. Spock cocked his head to one side, but otherwise made no reply.

* * *

“Tonia, it is so good of you to let me stay here,” said Pataal.

“Not at all,” said Barrows, softly. “You've been through a lot.”

“I loved them,” said Pataal, closing her eyes as the tears came again.

“And they loved you.”

“But not equally,” continued Pataal, as though Barrows had not spoken. “I loved them both, yes, but not … not the same.”

“Oh?” Barrows leaned on her bed next to Pataal. She had learned enough of human psychology to tell that her friend wanted to talk, and she had learned from Leonard that in such cases it was best to let them.

“It feels odd saying that,” said Pataal, after a long silence. “It feels … disloyal, somehow. I was their consort, I was to have loved them both.”

“Pataal, you can't turn love on and off like a circuit,” replied Barrows, gently. “It's natural for people to love one and only one. Even some animals mate for life.”

“I knew it when my first thoughts were of him after he died,” Pataal murmured to herself, as if not looking at Barrows made it easier to speak. “I should have told him. Both of them told me.”

“Pataal, please don't—”

“It was Abon!” she half-spoke, half-wept as she collapsed onto Barrows's bunk.

All Barrows knew to do in such situations was to let her cry herself out. That, and to make tea, and to wonder why such realizations always came too late.

* * *

“Doctor,” said Nurse Chapel, as McCoy was leaving sickbay.

“Can't it wait, Christine? I have a meeting with the captain.”

“Those readings you wanted,” said Chapel, indicating a computer monitor. “You wanted to know as soon as the results were determined.”

“Yes, thanks … ” McCoy's voice trailed off as he scanned the screen quickly.

Then his eyes widened, he stopped, and began to examine the results much more slowly, before lifting his gaze to Chapel. “Did you read this?”

“I … I couldn't help but glance at it—to make sure the data was properly categorized … ”

“It's all right, Nurse,” said McCoy. “But keep this to yourself.” He exited at a substantially accelerated rate.

* * *

“Gentlemen,” said Captain Kirk, with a softness that did not hide his urgency, “I need answers.”

“The Nadorians will certainly see a garrison of Federation troops as an occupation army,” said McCoy.

“Precisely,” said Kirk, “but the only way to forestall that, aside from forbidding the
Potemkin
to land—which I have no intention of doing—is to corral the dissident elements before they arrive, which will be in approximately forty-eight hours.”

“Forty-seven hours, fifty-five minutes, and eleven seconds,” said Spock.

“Why do you give him a chance to do that?” asked McCoy, peevishly.

“Unless you have a prescription that'll help, Doctor—” began Kirk.

“As a matter of fact,” said McCoy, after a few seconds' silence, “I just might.” He rose from the briefing room table and headed for the door. “Come with me to sickbay, Jim.” Kirk nodded and began to follow, then McCoy stopped and turned. “You, too, Spock.”

“Certainly, Doctor,” said Spock.

“You said you wanted answers,” said McCoy, in the medical lab in sickbay a few minutes later. “Well, I don't know if this will do any good, but … ”

“Bones, what is it?” asked Kirk.

“It's this.” He tapped a button on the console of the medical computer, and on the wall viewscreen appeared what seemed to Kirk to be a map of two overlapping, intermingling lines, a great many points on those lines coded in different colors.