Gemini (33 page)

“But—” began Securitrix Llora.

Kirk held up a hand, silencing her. “But why should those areas be struck by the storm? Well, we knew that the storm itself was created by the unleashed psionic potential of the formerly conjoined princes. In fact, that's why the princes were conjoined, to contain that psionic potential. Is it possible that the statues, which were created by the psionic abilities of former generations of Nadorian sculptors, still held some affinity for other psionic manifestations? That the storms were drawn by the statuary?”

Kirk shrugged and gave that disarmingly boyish smile which he had learned to use so well over the years. “I didn't
know,
of course. I couldn't be certain. But the odds were against us at that point.” He gave a glance at Spock. “I didn't even have the time to check my theory with my science officer; I was willing to take a chance on almost anything to save my ship.

“So I transported some crates over to Docos's craft from the
Enterprise,
and that seemed to have done the trick. The storms ignored us, and began attacking him. Docos took none of the Nadorian statuary with him, because he was conversant with your peoples' history of psionic abilities and figured out the connection long before I did. Any doubts he may have had were dispelled when the energy bolts from the storm circled around his ship to attack
us.
And that's when my suspicions were confirmed, too.”

“But, Captain,” said Prince Delor, “if this supposition of yours was true … ”

“ … your ship would had to have been carrying Nadorian statuary!” said Prince Abon, cutting in.

“I was going to say that!” said Delor.

“That's exactly right, Your Highnesses,” said Kirk with a nod. “The
Enterprise
was carrying Nadorian statuary. I should have realized this when I recalled that the first storm attacked the cargo hold. I assumed the storm was a kind of weapon, that it was being directed against the princes … but what if it was instead drawn to Nadorian statuary
in
the hold?”

“But that is forbidden,” said Regent Lonal indignantly, now on firmer ground. “Ancient Nadorian statuary cannot be removed from the planet without a valid export permit. Captain, is your Federation in the habit of trafficking in stolen goods?”

“Certainly not,” said Kirk, “all cargo transported aboard the
Enterprise
is automatically scanned to prevent just that—except in one case,” said Kirk, surveying the crowd. “In the case,” he said, “of cargo being shipped under the seal of diplomatic immunity.”

And all heads turned, like iron filings drawn by a magnet, to look at Federation Commissioner Sylvan Roget.

“Captain, I assure you, none of our personal goods contained smuggled Nadorian statuary … .”

“Kirk to
Enterprise,”
said Kirk, into his communicator. “Energize, Mr. Scott.”

Again the air tingled and solidified, this time into a large crate bearing a number of Federation stamps and secured with a single impressive-looking gold seal.

“Examine it, Commissioner,” said Kirk. “Is the seal on that crate secured with your authorization?”

“It is,” said Roget, “but I still maintain—”

“Then open it,” said Kirk, in the same inexorable tone.

Roget looked around the room, shrugged, and approached the crate. He punched an authorization code into the small pad on the crate's side, and said, “Roget, Sylvan, Federation Commissioner. Authorization A-four.”

The seal parted and the crate's sides fell open, revealing what most observers at first took to be a pair of human beings, so realistically were the contours of the forms fashioned. But then light struck the forms fully, revealing them to be a pair of statues of a handsome, godlike man and a young girl, the god handing the girl a small, four-winged bird, two figures Kirk took to be from Nadorian mythology.

“The Bestowment of Conscience,”
gasped the Lady Pataal. “That was thought lost for years.”

“And we know where it was, don't we, Commissioner?” asked Kirk.

“Kirk, I know nothing of this—” said Roget. For the first time since Kirk had met him, he seemed at a loss for words, even undignified.

“The evidence says otherwise, Commissioner,” said Spock. “Such a violation of trust, not to mention of your Federation oath, will surely mean a trial, perhaps even a sentence to a penal colony.”

“But I didn't—”

“Then who?” demanded Kirk. “The fact that whoever was behind Peter's kidnapping knew to look for a subcutaneous transponder pointed to someone with Federation training, someone who knew we might try such a strategy. If not you, who, Commissioner?”

“I don't know, but it wasn't—”

“He's telling the truth,” cut in another, sharper voice. Mrs. Roget stepped forward, her voice louder than Kirk had ever heard it. “It's not his fault, it's mine. It was my idea, my plan.”

“Janine?” said her husband, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. “But our duty … ”

“Your
duty, Sylvan, not mine,” she said emphatically, shaking her head. “An ambassador's pension is nothing, these days … not after the way we've been living, all these years. I just wanted to create a nest egg for our retirement. With your contacts in the palace, it wasn't difficult. It wasn't until after the first ship was intercepted that I got the idea of sending out the statues under your diplomatic seal.” She smiled, nostalgically, as if at a time decades gone. “You always left all those details to me.”

“Your ‘nest egg' nearly hatched a civil war,” said McCoy, indignantly.

“I never intended any of that,” said Mrs. Roget, shaking her head. “After I brought that fool Docos into it, he recruited Counselor Hanor, and they began acting on their own, advancing their own ‘cause.' I knew what they were doing, but by then I couldn't stop them. I tried to, but they said they'd bring Sylvan down with them … .” Streaks of what looked like silver began running down her cheeks. Then she stopped, wiped her face, smoothed back a few strands of errant hair, and drew herself to her full height. “But it wasn't Sylvan's fault. Let his record remain clear. It was mine.” Her left hand tentatively began creeping up her husband's arm, like a small animal that is afraid of rejection.

But Sylvan Roget seized her hand strongly, yet tenderly. “We'll face this together, dearest,” he said. “Captain, as the ranking Federation representative present, we turn ourselves over to you.”

“Accepted,” said Kirk, his voice like steel. To have shown them any sympathy, any pity, he knew, would have been more than they could bear. He turned his back on them as he took out his communicator. “Kirk to
Enterprise.
Five to beam up … .”

Captain's Log, Stardate 3375.6

Few missions, I confess, have left me with emotions as mixed as those of this assignment on Nador. I am glad to have prevented the assassination of a planet's monarchs, but saddened by the cost to the Federation of a loyal and valued member of its diplomatic corps, through no fault of his own. The handover ceremony went as planned—for a welcome change—and the Nadorian people have been officially admitted to the Federation. Captain Konstantin of the
Potemkin
has been notified that the troops he is transporting will not be needed.

“T
HERE IS ONE MORE MATTER
left to be resolved, Your Highnesses,” said Spock.

Both Princes Abon and Delor nodded, seated in the old throne from which they delivered so many pronouncements for so many years. Kirk didn't quite think that their desire to sit in that throne, which placed them back-to-back, stemmed from nostalgia, but rather from the need to perform a mutual duty one last time, at once as a kind of memento, and a last farewell.

“We are well aware of this, Mr. Spock,” said Prince Abon.

“But are you sure that your mind-meld would be unable to prevent the psionic storms from coming back?” asked Prince Delor.

“I am a scientist, and science does not deal in absolute certainties,” said Spock. “But I cannot guarantee the efficacy of a Vulcan mind-meld to prevent future occurrences, no. Such a storm could return at any moment, and the only method Dr. McCoy and I believe certain to forestall this—aside from the death of one of the participants—is the separation of Your Highnesses by a considerable distance.”

“By ‘considerable,'” asked Delor, “you mean—?”

“Several million miles at the very least,” said McCoy.

“I would call that distance quite considerable,” said Abon.

“In our first meeting, I mentioned the characters from Earth mythology, the twins Castor and Pollux,” said Spock, “called the Dioscuri. It seems to me a solution might be found there.”

“How so, Mr. Spock?” asked Abon.

“The twin Castor was a mortal, while his brother, Pollux, was immortal. When Castor was slain in a conflict, Pollux asked his father, Zeus, for the gift of sharing his immortality with his brother. They spent alternate days in Hades and on Olympus.”

“You suggest one of us go off-planet, Mr. Spock?”

“That would seem the only way to attain the distance between your twin necessary, Prince Delor.”

“‘Off-planet,'” said Abon, almost reminiscently. “To wander the stars, exploring, experimenting … It seems like a good life, eh, Captain?”

“I've never regretted it,” said Kirk.

“I shall miss you, brother,” said Delor, rising and facing his twin. “But we both know the proper decision.”

“I wish someone would tell me,” said McCoy. “I know that you, Prince Abon, were inquiring about space travel—”

“But it is clearly Abon who would make the better ruler of Nador,” said Delor, “the best monarch to guide our people through the process of becoming members of the Federation.” He sighed and looked around. “I must confess, as often as I wished to be free of this place forever, I shall miss it.”

“As we shall miss you,” said Prince Abon. “But know that as Nadorian's Ambassador to the Galaxy, you will carry the full force of the throne behind you.”

Delor nodded graciously, the turned to look into the shadows. “My lady,” he said, “may I ask a boon?”

“How may I serve you, Your Highness?” asked the Lady Pataal, emerging from the shadows that gathered at the edge of the room. Her friend, Yeoman Tonia Barrows, followed her nearly into the light, but stopped a few feet short.

“I ask you to accompany me,” said Delor, extending a hand. “Space would seem not so vast had I someone to share it with.”

“Your Highness … ” began Pataal, walking forward and kneeling at his feet. “I am honored … but I cannot.”

“Cannot?” asked Delor. He said the word as if for the first time.

The Lady Pataal shook her head. “Will not, then. Forgive me, Highness, but I have realized it is not you that I love.” She stood and looked at Prince Abon, a slight quaver coming to her voice. “It is Prince Abon.”

Delor's eyes closed and he was still for a moment. Then he nodded. “A monarch may command anything but loyalty and love.” He turned and extended a hand to his brother. “Good fortune to you both.”

Pataal and Yeoman Barrows hugged as the princes shook hands.

“But I have one favor to ask,” said Delor. “On our birthday, brother, let us arrange to view the constellation of Gemini.”

“Agreed,” nodded Abon, a slight catch in his voice. “It may be that that ritual will ease the loneliness I will feel for you.”

This time the brothers embraced, and it seemed quite natural to Kirk to see them so conjoined.

“Captain,” a voice called to Kirk as he left the throne room, “may I have a word?”

Both Spock and McCoy, recognizing that cool voice, glanced over at Kirk, who nodded. “Of course, Chief Securitrix,” said Kirk, turning to face Llora.

“Our relations have not always been the most peaceable these past few days,” said the chief securitrix, “but I do thank you for the help you have given my planet and my people.”

“Thank you,” said Kirk. “Perhaps we shall have a chance to repair our relations, someday.”

“I hope so,” she replied, simply. Then she extended her right hand. “Good luck.”

Kirk took her hand, which was warm and soft, and, not at all to his surprise, strong. He met its pressure for a few seconds while his eyes met her gaze. After a few seconds she released the grip and walked away. “Thank you for showing me the stars,” she said.

* * *

“Gentlemen,” said Kirk, in his quarters on the
Enterprise
a few minutes later, “to success.”

“To success,” echoed three voices, clinking champagne glasses, then imbibing their contents.

“An excellent vintage,” said Spock.

“It's no mint julep,” said McCoy with a grin, “but it's not bad.”

“It's very good,” agreed Peter Kirk.

Three sets of eyes turned as one to him.

“Know a lot about drinking, do you, Peter?” asked McCoy.

“A little,” said Peter, with a disarming, familiar smile. “About as much as I know about women.”

“Watch out for this one,” said McCoy, turning to Kirk.

“I've already found that out,” replied Kirk.

“Well,” said Peter, after a long pause, “maybe I'll just turn in now.”

“Good idea,” said Kirk, with a wink. “Good night.”

“Good night, Uncle Jim,” said Peter, at the cabin door. “And thanks—for everything.”

“I made your father a promise,” said Kirk.

“Sirs, if you'll excuse me,” said Spock, “I have duty on the bridge.”

“I'll join you,” said Kirk, setting down his glass.

“You go ahead, Spock,” said McCoy. “I'd like to speak to Jim for a minute.”