  STAR TREK
  DEEP DOMAIN
  BY
  HOWARD WEINSTEIN
  "STAND BY FOR EVASIVE MANEUVERS,
  MR. CHEKOV..."
  Spock shoved the throttle control to maximum.
The G-forces squeezed them back into their seats.
  "Damn." Chekov glanced up from his scanner.
"They're still closing on us. They were built for this .
. . we weren't."
  Spock replied by yanking the throttle back,
cutting their speed to a standstill. The pursuing
Chorymi ships rushed past.
  Chekov grinned wickedly. "Good move, Mr.
Spock."
  "Not good enough, I'm afraid," Spock
replied. The tactical screen showed the dogged
Chorymi fighters hadn't given up. Within
seconds they were back in weapons range, and fired
another volley.
  Spock and Chekov felt the shuttle take two
hits at the stern. A muffled explosion shook the
ship, and the cabin lights flickered . . .
  Look for Star Trek fiction from Pocket
Books
  Enterprise: 16 The Final Reflection The
First Adventure 17 Star Trek 111: I
Star Trek: The Search for Spock The Motion
Picture 18 My Enemy, My Ally 2
The Entropy Effect 19 The Tears of the Singers
3 The Klingon Gambit20 The Vulcan
Academy bled The Covenant of Murders the
Crown 21 Uhura's Song 5 The
Prometheus Design 22 Shadow Lord 6 The
Abode of Life 23 Ishmael 7 Star
Trek 11: 24 Killing Time The Wrath of
Khan 25 Dwellers in the Crucible 8
Black Fire 26 Pawns and Symbols 9
Triangle 27 Mindshadow 10 Web of the
Romulansble28 Crisis on Centaurus
11 Yesterday's Son 29 Dreadnought! 12
Mutiny on the Enterprise 30 Demons 13
The Wounded Sky 31 Battlestations! 14 The
Trellisane Star Trek IV: Confrontation The
Voyage Home 15 Corona 32 Chain of
Attack 33 Deep Domain
  PUBLISHED BY POCKET BOOKS NEW
YORK Distributed in Canada by PaperJacks
Ltd., a Licensee of the trademarks of Simon
and Schuster, Inc. This one's for Lynr tilde e
Perry
  With thanks for letting me Trek to other worlds
while keeping one foot in this one
  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are either the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitious.
Any resemblance to actual events or locales
or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.
  Another Original publication of POCKET
BOOKS
  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon and
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  - In Canada distributed
by PaperJacks Ltd., 330 Steelcase
Road, Markham, Ontario
  Cover Art and Text Copyright 01987
Paramount Pictures Corporation. All Rights
Reserved.
  All lights reserved, including the right
to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books,
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  This Book is Published by Pocket Hooks,
a Division of Simon and Schuster, Inc. Under
Exclusive License from Paramount Pictures
Corporation, The Trademark Owner.
  ISBN: 0-671-63329-5 Fust Pocket
Books Science Fiction printing April 1987
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
  POCKET and colophon are registered
trademarks of Simon and Schuster, Inc.
  STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of
Paramount Pictures Corporation.
  Printed in Canada
  Author's Notes
  FLASHBACK: October 1984. I'd just gone
on a whalewatching cruise off the
Massachusetts coast with my friend T. J.
Burnside. We visited humpbacks and
dolphins in the wild, and discussed late rumors
about Star Trek: despite the success of Star
Trek ill, it seemed there might not be a Star
Trek IV. Dismaying, to say the least.
  Next day, I got a call from a science
fiction acquaintance, asking if I could come in and
meet with Leonard Nimoy that afternoon. If S. T.
IV got made, he would be directing it, and he was
preparing by holding a series of brainstorming sessions
with various writers and scientists around the country,
stirring up new ideas for the next film. So, could
I come in and chat? You bet!
  It was fun meeting Leonard for the first time, and a
challenge to come up with suggestions that might be
useful. I got over being nervous in a few
minutes. He wasn't at an nervous about meeting
me. Following that session, I thought I might have a
chance to submit a story outline for the movie, so I
quickly wrote one based on some of the notions we'd
discussed.
  As it turned out, Leonard and Harve Bennett
had already decided on a basic story involving time
travel, so I set mine aside. But it
didn't go to waste it evolved into this book.
  If you saw Star Trek IV: The Voyage
Home, you might've spied my name near the end of the
credits, under "The Producers extend special
thanks to was So I guess I helped 'em a
little. And I loved the movie my compliments to all the
chefs responsible for S. T. TV.
  Partly because they originated in the same pot
  of ideas, Deep Domain and S.t. IV share
some
  common ground, though the different approaches
  will become obvious as you read this novel. But
  both focus to some extent on marine life (though
  that's not a whale on the cover; it's an

  Akkallan triteera, recognisable by its
triple-fluked
  tail). Both touch on themes of co-existence with
  other species and ecological
responsibility. And
  they attempt to do what science fiction does so
  well make us take probing looks at our own
  world. It's the only one we've got and we're not
  taking very good care of it.
  Hardly a week passes without
horrific headlines
  about chemical spills polluting water and air,
  man-made noxious potions punching holes in the
  atmospheric ozone that protects us from
  cancer-causing rays of the sun, acid rain
reducing
  forests to lifeless sticks of wood and killing
  streams that once teamed with fish....
  You don't have to be an environmental crazy to
  get the point: If we turn our beautiful
planet into
  a sludge-encrusted cesspool with brown air and
  crunchy water, we ain't got no place else
to go. If
  you're sitting there thinking, But I never dump
  toxic wastes into the ocean, so why's he busting
my
  chops? I'll tell you why.
  Not doing rotten things just isn't good enough
  anymore. As we used to say, before "social
  activism" became dirty words, "If you're not
part of
  the solution, you're part of the problem. his
  Yes, I realize we can't all go out in small
boats
  and stop illegal whaling by interposing our bodies
  between explosive harpoons and the whales at
  which they're aimed. Or go out and intercept
  barrels of radioactive garbage before they sink
to
  the bottom of the sea. Or physically wrest
deadly
  weapons from the fingers of poachers intent on
  butchering endangered rhinos for their horns and
  elephants for their tusks.
  But if it outrages you to know that gentle
  mountain gorillas (perhaps a few hundred remain
  in the wild) are murdered and their hands cut off
  to be made into ash trays for tourists, there's
  something you can do. Simple but vital.
  First, you can help other people understand the
  importance of these issues. And, for a very few
  bucks, you can contribute to one of the fine
  organisations dedicated to protecting Planet
Earth
  and its many life forms (including we humans,
   who often seem too dumb to protect ourselves
  from ourselves). Three that I personally
  recommend: Greenpeace, the Cousteau
Society,
  and the World Wildlife Fund. All are
reputable
  and devoted to preserving our world. If you can't
  locate

  an address (check your school or public
library),
  then write to me csto Pocket Books, 1230
Avenue
  of the Americas, NY, NY 10020. Send a
stamped,
  self-addressed envelope and I'll send the info
  you'll need to contact them.
  Whatever you do, please don't leave it to the
  other guy. We all have it in our power to make
  the world a little better, or at least keep it from
  getting worse. We won't always succeed but
  unless we try, we can't possibly succeed.
  Before I forget, special thanks to Julia
Ecklar
  (for Russian advice) Bob and Debbie
  Greenberger, Ann Crispin, Debby
Marshall, Mom
  and Dad, George Takei, Walter
Koenig, Eddie
  Egan, Dave McDonnell, Cindi
Casby, Tom
  Roberts, Sharon Jarvis, Liz Hartman,
Dave
  Stern and, of course, Mail Order Annie.
  Howard Weinstein December 1986

  Historian's Note: Those who have avidly
  followed the exploits of the U.s.s.
Enterprise
  and her crew should note that this mission
  takes place in the years following the events
  related in printed and audio-visual reports
of
  the Enterprise's encounter with V'ger, circa
  Stardate 7412.
  Chapter One
  "WHERE THE HELL are the damn cops?"
  Dr. Cynthia McPhillips bit off each
word with
  barely restrained rage. She ran a hand through
  her dark, short-shag hair and watched droplets
  from the mist outside trickle down the large bay
  window of the Federation science outpost on
  Akkalla.
  Dr. Naw-Rocki reacted with a quizzical
  expression as he joined McPhillips at the
window.
  "Cops," the seven-foottall alien echoed.
  "Unfamiliar word. Neology? Or perhaps
  colloquialism?" His multifaceted amber
eyes
  blinked expectantly, and he smoothed his
  blue-green, downy skin.
  "Old Terran word for police or security
forces."
  "Ahh, understanding," Naw-Rocki said in a
  voice incongrnously prissy for a being of his
size.
  "Assistance certainly required for our return
to
  dwelling."
  They heard the door to the lab open, and Dr.
  Enzo Piretti, the third member of their team,
  came in. He shrugged out of his rain gear,
  grabbed a towel and rubbed his white hair and
  beard, which offered stark contrast against his
  deeply tanned skin.
  McPhillips occasionally envied his color, even
  though she knew it was largely a product
of
  Mediterranean genes. Sunburn was hardly a
  concern on Akkalla, and she'd grown tired of
  seeing her own ashen complexion in the mirror
  each morning. She'd also had her fill of
  humidity-frizzed hair and thought now and then
  that she'd like her next duty station to be
  someplace truly arid.
  "Any interesting data on the instruments, Enzo?"
  "Yeah, boss. Big surprise it's raining,"
he said.

  "Thanks. I hadn't noticed. We've been
here four
  hundred and three days. It's rained all or part
of
  three hundred and eighty-nine of 'em. But who's
  counting?"
  "That's the news from the back," Piretti said.
  "What's going on out front?"
  "See for yourself," McPhillips said in disgust,
  waving toward the mist-coated glass.
  Piretti stepped forward to see a line of perhaps
  a hundred Akkallans positioned atop the
massive
  seawallprotecting the stretch of shore from high
  tides and heavy surf. They effectively
blocked the
  path leading from the science station to the slip
  where the researchers" mag boats were moored.
  Many carried signs inviting the Federation
  researchers to leave the planet as hastily as
  possible, condemning the offworlders as sinners,
  or warning of unpleasant fates awaiting them if
  they lingered on a planet where they were
  obviously not wanted. Empty-handed protesters
  pumped hostile fists into the air with growing
  fervor.
  Piretti whistled. "Getting worse every day."
  Naw-Rocki nodded solemnly. "First time
  departure has been obstructed."
  "That's why I called the Grolian Guard. I
want
  some official protection for us, or there'll be
hell
  to pay when the Enterprise gets here," said
  McPhillips.
  "So where are our friendly neighborhood
  Grolian Guards, anyway?" Piretti
asked.
  "Damned if I know. I called twice. If
we don't
  see some results in about five minutes, I'm
going
  to call again. I'm building up to a real good
  blowup." She began pacing in front of the window,
  always keeping her eye on the scene outside.
  Piretti sat back in a recliner at his
desk. "What
  a group. A seventy-year-old Italian his
  "Descended from Roman emperors," Cynthia
  McPhillips interjected.
  "Hey, I swear it's the truth!"
  "Uh-huh."
  was a seven-foot blue-green guy from Rannica
  111, and a woman ecologist in charge who's
spent
  the past year fighting with every Akkallan
  authority every day and twice on Sunday,"
Piretti
  finished. "And what do we have to show for our
  four hundred and three days?"

  "Survivalness," Naw-Rocki said wryly.
  "Something to be said for that," Piretti
agreed.
  "We've got nothing to be ashamed of,"
  McPhillips said. "We would've had a lot more
to
  show if the damn government didn't put us on a
  short leash."
  "But is that going to be enough when the
  Enterprise gets here to evaluate us? Do we
get our
  extension, or do we get yanked home?"
Piretti
  wondered. "Maybe it's better if we leave
with the
  starship, considering was He jerked a thumb
  toward the crowd outside.
  McPhillips shook her head in frustration.
  "Dammit, Enzoeawe're so close to confirming this
  new life form. I know it's not what we came
to
  study, but it's damn exciting. I'd hate
to lose the
  chance to follow the trail."
  "Y'know what gets me, Cindy," Pireni said.
  "What made the Akkallan scientists and the
  students from the Collegium hate us so
much?"
  Naw-Rocki raised a spindly blue-green
finger.
  "Probable speculation: government
  disinformation."
  "Can't argue with that," said McPhillips. "Where
  else could the entire Collegium get the idea
that
  we were conspiring with the government against
  them? On a world where the government controls
  every medium of communication, keeps
  offworlders in separate compounds, and won't let
  us even talk to the native scientists . . .
dammit! If
  only we could've worked together . . ."
  "Things I won't miss about Akkalla,"
Piretti said,
  pausing to consider. "The weather, the
  government . . . the weather . . . umm, the
  weather."
  "New, tell us again what the weather's like on
  your planet."
  The towering alien allowed his eyes to slip
  closed in a moment of fanciful escape home.
  "Perpetual choice. We modulate
patterns
  completely."
  Enzo laughed. "That settles it I'm headed for
  Rannica 111 as soon as the Enterprise
gets us out
  of here. I just wish we hadn't been outta
direct
  touch for so long." His smile faded.
  Cindy McPhillips widened her brown eyes
in
  feigned amazement. "What? But the Pubbcan's
  office assured us that all our messages were
  relayed to the Federation Science Council on the
  government subspace channel. And they

  swore they gave us all the messages sent to us.
  Don't you believe them?"
  Enzo Piretti growled a skeptical-sounding
  response in Italian. McPhillips wished
she knew
  the language, but the tone was more than enough
  to make his feelings clear.
  "We never should've let "em close down our
  subspace transmitter," he said.
  "Negative choice in that matter,"
Naw-Rocki
  said. "A common vernacular expression exists
on
  Rannica. I find it somewhat appropriate."
  The others waited several moments for him to
  share the Ranmcan maxim, but Naw-Rocki just
  moved the tip of his pointed tongue along his
lips,
  which they knew by now meant he was thinking.
  "Well, you gonna tell us?" Piretti
prompted.
  "And is this one gonna make any sense to us, or
  is it gonna be like most of the others you come up
  with?"
  "This is cause for hesitation attempting most
  applicable translation." He took a deep
breath,
  then decided to try what he'd come up with.
  "When mastig says, 'Don't worry, I may
not
  consume you until later" worry. Oh, mastig
is
  like, uhh, your legendary dragon. Existence,
  however, confirmed."
  "Mildly appropriate," said
McPhillips. "You're
  getting the hang of English, Naw."
  The downy alien smiled. "Appreciation
expressed."
  "Well," McPhillips said, "we've only
got two
  more days to teach you, assuming the Er' left-brace
erprise
  is on time."
  Enzo shook his head. "And would we know if
  she wasn't gonna be? I doubt it."
  McPhillips leaned on the window sill,
admiring
  the chiaroscuro of the Akkallan sky, a work
  painted by nature from a palette of grays
ranging
  from glowering to silvery, clouds that all at once
  swirled with the fury of storms and floated gently
  on the mildest of mists. "You know, this can be a
  really beautiful planet, in spite of everything."
She
  glanced at the wall clock. "Their five
minutes are
  up. I'm calling the damn Grolian Guard
office
  again."
  She stalked toward the communications panel.
  "Cindy, arrival," said Naw-Rocki.
  Out in the lagoon, a pair of sleek silver
police
  cutters cruised up to the dock extending from the
  seawall, search

  lights slicing the gloom of twilight,
loudspeakers
  broadcasting a warning for the protesters to
  disperse. The three scientists watched as the path
  was slowly cleared. Within a few minutes, a
  guardsman dressed in lightweight grey body
armor
  and clear helmet entered the lab. Cynthia
greeted
  him with a snarl.
  "It's about time you got here. We've been under
  siege for an hour that's three of your hexes. I
  had to call for help twice. We're
representatives
  of the United Federation of Planets, of which
  Akkalla is a member. I expect better
protection
  for the duration of our stay."
  The guardsman remained at polite attention,
  then spoke through the mouthscreen in his
  helmet. "The only way to completely ensure
your
  protection is to place you and your science team
  under house arrest in a secure facility."
  "You mean prison," said Piretti. "And I
get the
  feeling your Publican would like to do that
  anyway and not for our protection."
  "I'm not a policy setter or a magister or
an
  overlord of the Continental Synod," the
  guardsman said simply. "I'm just doing my
job.
  And if you're ready, we'll escort you to the
  residential compound."
  Dr. McPhillips glanced at her friends.
"We're
  ready." As they followed the guardsman down
  spiral metal steps and out into the damp evening,
  Enzo Piretti whispered to his colleagues,
"I hope
  the Enterprise can find us when she gets
here. She
  may not, if we're in prison by then . . . or
dead."
  "All right, Sulu, who's this one great love of
  your lifer' asked Lieutenant Seena
Maybri. Her
  tall, foxlike ears perked sharply, and her
grey
  saucer eyes narrowed, losing their natural
  innocence for a moment, replacing it with a
  suspicion that Lieutenant Commander Hikaru
  Sulu, chief helmsman of the starship
Enterprise,
  had been teasing her for the past half-hour of
  their lunch together. She turned away petulantly
  to stare out the wide viewing port of the
  observation deck, missing the smile that played
  across his lips the smile that would have
  confirmed her suspicion.
  "Ahh, the impatience of youth," Sulu said in
sage
  tones.
  She glanced back, but by then he was
  poker-faced again. "Oh, I'm not that young and
  I'll bet there never was any great
love."
  s
  "When your brother Sabjiwrote to ask me to
  look after you, he never told me you were so
  cynical." He slumped back into deep couch
  cushions and pouted.
  Maybri's slender shoulders and ears drooped in
  unison. "Oh, don't look hurt, Sulu.
You're too old
  to get away with that. So stop it it doesn't work
  with me and besides, you know I can't stand it
  when you look hurt."
  It had indeed worked, and his face brightened.
  "So you want to hear the sad story?"
  "No, I do not."
  "Well, do you want to know her name?"
  She hesitated, wanting to say no and yes at the
  same time. Instead she said nothing. Sulu jumped
  into the breach.
  "Well, okay then, if you really don't want
to his
  "Tell me her name," Maybri said, her
whispery
  voice as insistent as it ever got.
  He hesitated. "Wellll, it's not
exactly a her . . ."
  Her foot tapped impatiently, and Maybri's
skin
  began shading from normal pink to the deep red
  displayed by Erithians under stress. The color
  almost matched her uniform jacket. "Then what is
  it?"
  "It's an it."
  "The love of your life is an it. My brother
  warned me Terrans can be rather strange. Now
  tell me this is your last chance."
  Sulu dipped his head, and she lowered her own
  to see if he was hiding a smirk.
"Chocolate," he
  said quietly.
  Maybri cocked her head like a confused puppy.
  "The love of your life is a food substance?"
  This ended Sulu's self-control. He let out a
  short burst of machine tilde un laughter, enough
to
  fill the lounge area and cause other crew
members
  to pause in their own quiet contemplations and
  conversations. Sulu's trademark laugh was as
  infectious as any space plague, though
with fortu-
  nately more pleasant effects smiles spread
  throughout the deck.
  Sulu reined in his laughter, though he continued
  to be amused by Maybri's attempt at looking
  stern. Her color faded back to pink again, and her
  ears settled at half-mast. Her feathery hair
  fluttered the way it often did when she was
  distracted. She shook her head as if at a
small
  child telling tall tales. "A food substance .
. ."

  "Solid ambrosia," he corrected.
  She shrugged. "We've managed without it on
  Erithia."
  His oriental eyes widened. "You've never had
  any? We'll have to remedy that." His voice
  lowered to a conspiratorial pitch, and he reached
  inside his tunic, taking out a small morsel which
  he carefully unwrapped. "I happen to have a
  secret cache of the best chocolate in the
galaxy.
  It's from Shoratoa IV. Don't tell
anybody." His
  eyes darted from side to side, scanning for
spies.
  Then he snapped off a chunk and placed it in her
  palm. "Don't chew it savor it."
  She did as she was told, swishing the piece
  around in her mouth. She swallowed and looked
  at him blankly. "So?"
  "That's all so?"
  She shrugged again. "I guess it's an acquired
  taste. How did you acquire it?"
  "I think it was prenatal. I just always loved
  chocolate. There's an old term for people like me:
  chocoholic."
  "What was the sad story you threatened to tell
  me?" she asked dubiously.
  "Hey, I was telling the truth. The sad story
was,
  loving chocolate more than life itself made me,
  uh, a tad on the chubby side. When I was
kid, I
  got two nicknames hung on me: Hefty
Hikaru and
  Sizable Sulu."
  Maybri laughed. "Obviously those don't
apply
  anymore. What happened?"
  "Human children can be cruel, and it got to me.
  I had too much pride to keep being the butt of
  everybody's jokes so I got interested in
sports.to
  prove myself. Not only did I turn out to be a
  fencing and track star and get lots of girls which
  is very important to teenage boys I also lost
lots
  of weight."
  "No more Sizable Sulu." Maybri's
delicate lips
  pursed thoughtfully. "Are all Terrans this
odd?"
  Sulu grinned. "No odder than you Erithians,
  though your brother always said that came from
  living on a desert planet."
  "Did I tell you I got a subspace call
from him last
  week?"
  "No. How is he and where is he?"
  "He's fine, he's temporarily assigned
to Mars
  Base, and he said to say hello to you. He really
  appreciates your being my surrogate
big brother.
  I do, too."
  Sulu spread his hands. "That's what friends are
  for.

  Y'know, I haven't seen Sahji in . . .
God, it must
  be over five years."
  Sulu grew pensive as he turned toward the
  viewing port. Outside, in the profound
blackness
  of deep space, the stars danced like lights on a
  distant shore. "That's the one bad thing about
  spending your life in space, making war tilde
speed
  Jaunts around the galaxy. You get to miss people
  at home, people who'd be just a transporter beam
  or a shuttle hop away if you were on the same
  planet as they were."
  With a supportive touch, Maybri reached out to
  rest her hand lightly on his. "I guess
I'm too new
  at this to feel that way. Two months out,
  everything's still so exciting I don't notice
anything
  else."
  After an awkward silence, the young lieutenant
  licked her lips. "Uh . . . could I have
another piece
  of that chocolate substance?"
  Sulu's eyes lit like a preacher about to baptise
a
  convert. "Aha I knew you'd be hooked."
  "Who said anything about hooked? I'm just
  doing what any good scientist should
  do repeating an experiment and comparing the
  results."
  "Uh-huh." He broke offanother dark shard and
  gave it to her.
  With a measuring look, she held it inches from
  her face. "Kind of a small piece, Sulu."
  "Like I said, hooked."
  Her eyes widened in protest. Before she could
  defend herself, the intercom whistled and
  Communications Officer Uhura's precise
voice
  came from the speaker. "Lieutenant Maybri,
to the
  briefing room, please."
  "Maybri here, Commander Uhura. Do you
know
  what it's about?"
  "Something to do with your assignment at Akkalla.
  Admiral Kirk has some changes to discuss with the
  landing party. his
  Maybri frowned. "Thank you. On my way."
She
  stood in place for an extra moment, then
noticed
  Sulu had stepped next to her.
  "Don't look so worried," he said.
  Her hair fluttered, betraying her nervousness,
  and her skin tone began darkening again. "I can't
  help it. I keep expecting Admiral Kirk
to discover
  that somebody made a

  mistake and I don't really belong on a
starship as
  my first duty post."
  "Of course you do," Sulu said, placing a friendly
  arm around her shoulders. "To begin with, there
  aren't that many biologists qualified to deal with
  unusual ecologies. And you're rated as one
of the
  best."
  "But that's book learning and computer
  simulations." She gestured weakly out the
viewport
  toward the dusting of stars. "Those are real
  planets."
  "And you're a real biologist. A strange one
from
  Erithia, maybe, but a good one."
  She forced a smile, and they left the lounge
  together, headed for the nearest turbolift. The
  doors slid open, then shut behind them. "Deck
6,"
  Sulu said. The lift hummed and accelerated
  smoothly through its maze of shafts and tubes.
  "Oh, I hope I haven't been bumped for
someone
  more experienced," Maybri said softly.
"Akkalla is
  my favorite sort of planet."
  "What's thatThat'
  "Ninety-eight percent water. Aquarian worlds
  are just the most interesting!"
  "How does someone from a planet that's mostly
  sand get interested in water worlds?"
  "Change of pace, I guess," she said
brightly.
  The lift module opened on Deck 6, and they
  stepped out.
  "Hey, Sulu?"
  "Yeah?"
  Chewing her lip nervously, she sidled up to him.
  "Um, do you think I could, uh his
  "Yes," he said with a tolerant half-smile,
"you
  can have a whole chocolate bar all to yourself"
  She blinked in surprise. "How did you know
  that's what I was going to ask?"
  "Like I said, hooked."
  With a satisfied gait, he strolled the other
way.
  It wasn't until he was out of sight that she
heard
  his reverberating laugh. "Hooked," she mumbled,
  shaking her head.
  Charging around a corner, Maybri gasped as she
  barely avoided slamming full-steam into Dr.
  McCoy. She stuttered an apology and felt
her skin
  shading toward its darkest red.

  McCoy smiled reassuringly. "No harm
done. An
  old ship's surgeon should know to stand aside
  when there're young officers the loose. I think
  we're headed to the same place." He paused.
"You
  know, Lieutenant, that skin darkenmg of yours is
  rather unusual."
  Her color had begun fading back to normal, but
  now it hovered at a medium hue. "It's also a
big
  pain," she blurted.
  "How do you mean unless it's something you'd
  rather not talk about . . ."
  She sighed as they continued walking toward the
  meeting. "It's not that. It's just that, well, how
  would you like it if every time you were under
  stress, or some stimulus was causing your body
to
  produce extra heat, everyone could tell just by
  looking at you? I feel like a neon tube fish
from
  Spyrion VII. And I feel so different from
everyone
  else on board."
  McCoy gave a professional nod. "But you
didn't
  feel that way back home on Erithia?"
  "It wasn't unusual there."
  "Yes."
  "Well, y'know, we humans can tell a lot
about
  each other's reactions just by looking."
  "Not like this," Maybri said glumly.
  "Maybe not to your eye, because you're not used
  to it. But I can look at any human on this ship
  and I can detect stress, embarrassment,
  excitement. Don't even need my tricorder."
  Maybri's glumness shifted to interest. "Really?
  How?"
  "Blushing, perspiration, darting eyes, rapid
  respiration, dry lips lots of ways. So,
you'see, you're
  no more of an open book than the rest of us are."
  "Maybe," she smiled. "But I still wish I
didn't
  blush quite so vividly."
  They arrived at the briefing room. Chekov,
  Spock, Chief Engineer Scott, and
Admiral Kirk
  were already seated. Kirk cleared his throat.
"Let's
  get right to it. Starfleet has ordered a change
in
  our current mission. An emergency situation
has
  developed on Vestra 5, and we're the ship
  assigned to help. Mr. Spock?"
  The Vulcan science officer inserted a data
  cassette into the computer console at his end of
  the table, and a chart of the Vestran system lit the
  main viewscreen on the wall.

  "The Vestran star system is located in
Sector
  R-973, with only one inhabited planet.
Vestra V is
  Class M, with a civilisation level of point
nine,
  Type A his
  "For the noncomputers among us," McCoy said,
  "how "bout a translation into English, Mr.
Spock?"
  Spock's eyebrow raised just slightly.
  "Rudimentary interstellar spaceflight
capability,
  advanced technological culture, society
presently
  at peace. Vestra 5 is not a member of the
  Federation, but nearby Federation planets do have
  extensive trade and other relations with it. In
fact,
  Vestra has been invited to join the Federation on
  two occasions, with the most recent negotiations
  eleven solar months ago."
  "What're they hesitatin" about?" asked
Scott.
  "Seems the Vestrans are the independent
sort,"
  Kirk said. "They just aren't sure about any
  alliance. But the vote was closer the second time,
  and the Federation feels the next vote'll turn
  things around. They want Vestra as a member,
  and that's why our mission is so important.
Spock,
  explain the emergency, please."
  "Aberrational weather patterns have caused
  severe drought conditions in the planet's primary
  farming regions. The pattern has
persisted for
  three years now, and despite massive
irrigation
  projects, attempts at meteorological
modification,
  and stringent water conservation, they have been
  unable to reverse a serious reductive trend in
  agricultural output."
  McCoy scratched his nose. "In other words,
  they're facie' starvation."
  "I believe that is what I said. As a
result, they
  have asked the Federation for humanitarian
  assistance." Spock touched a computer key,
  changing the viewer image to a star chart
  indicating an essentially linear course between the
  starship's present location, Starbase 18,
Vestra V,
  and finally the Akkallan system. "Quantities
of
  food, seeds engineered for rapid germination and
  growth in arid environments, and
  techno-agricultural teams are now being gathered
  at Starbase 18. Our original course had us
bypass-
  ing starbase by point six three light years.
  However, we are the closest ship, and we can
  easily divert. We will then proceed directly
to
  Vestra to deliver the aid."
  Lieutenant Maybri glanced quickly at the other
  officers, all considerably senior to her. She
  wondered if it was her

  place to ask questions, but she spoke up before
  thought could lead to timidity. "Sir, what about
  our assignment at Akkalla?"
  "The Science Ministry still needs the evaluation
  in a hurry. They've got deadlines on setting
next
  year's budget, and they've got to know what
  projects warrant continued funding. So, when we
  dock at Starbase 18, Mr. Spock'll
take a scout
  shuttle to Akkalla and start the evaluation. The
  Enterprise'll rendezvous with the evaluation team
  as soon as we're done at Vestra 5."
  "You said "evaluation team," sir," Maybri
said.
  "I'd like to volunteer."
  "Sorry, lieutenant. Mr. Spock will be
taking only
  one other crew member along Mr. Chekov."
  The young Russian reacted with slight
surprise.
  "Thank you, Admiral. I was beginning to wonder
  why I was included in the briefing."
  Kirk chuckled. "Did you think I was planning
to
  ignore your request to get back into sciences a
bit
  more?"
  "I didn't really know, sir."
  Chekovhappily followed the Vulcan out, and
  Maybri watched them go, looking not at all
  pleased. Her skin began darkening, but she kept
  quiet.
  "While we're on the topic, why am I in on
this
  briefing, Jim?" asked McCoy.
  "Because I'm going to need you on Vestra,
  Bones."
  "Crop failure, irrigation, reseeding? I'm
a
  doctor, not a gardener."
  "We don't actually know how bad the medical
  situation is. Starfleet should have more for us
  when we get to starbase. But the plan is for us to
  take a large medical team to work with local
  health authorities on combating the complications
  brought on by malnutrition. You'll be
  supervising."
  "My favorite activity, Jim. I'm sure
there'll be
  tons of reports his
  "Sorry, Bones. The bureaucracy demands its
due."
  McCoy shook his head ruefully. "We may have
  replaced paper, but we'll never escape
  paperwork."
  "Scotty," Kirk said, "it's up to you to make
sure
  we've got room for all the supplies and
  equipment. Once we're orbiting Vestra,
we've got
  to be efficient. We'll be making use of all
  shuttlecraft, and we'll be beaming people and

  crates all over the planet. I need you
to keep
  things organised."
  "Aye, sir, we'll keep on top o'
everything."
  As Scott headed toward the door, McCoy
got to
  his feet. "Am I dismissed too, Jim? Or
do you
  have some other bureaucratic torture you'd like to
  inflict on an old country doctor?"
  Kirk raised a thumb. "Get out of here,
Bones.
  Lieutenant, you're his
  "Sir," she said, cutting him off, "I'd like to have
  a word with you in private, if you don't mind."
  "Fine. Now's as good a time as any."
  McCoy ambled out with Scott. "If anybody
  needs me, I'll be in sickbay sharpening
pencils."
  "What's on your mind, lieutenant?" Kirk
asked
  when they were alone.
  "The evaluation team chosen to go to Akkalla,
  sir."
  Kirk's lips tightened. "Are you questioning my
  judgment, Lieutenant Maybri?"
  Now I've done it, she thought, certain she was
  turning the darkest shade she'd ever been.
  Insulting the admiral There goes any chance I
ever
  had for f eldwork I'll be locked in a lab
until I'm a
  hundred
  "Relax," Kirk said, amusement twinkling in his
  hazel eyes as his expression softened. "I was just
  testing your resolve a bit. You're allowed to
  question the judgment of any superior officer, as
  long as you've got a good reason to back it up
  and you don't get any notions of mutiny."
  "Well, sir, it's not that I'm questioning your
  judgment, exactly. It's just that I'm very
  knowledgeable about planets like Akkalla," she
  said, managing to push a little forcefulness into
  her voice. "I've done a lot of preparation
for the
  original evaluation, and I believe I should still be
  going . . . sir."
  Kirk leaned back and crossed his arms.
  "Another thing you should realize, lieutenant.
  Superior officers don't owe anyone any
  explanations for command decisions. But that
  doesn't mean you shouldn't ask. At times you may
  get one like now, for instance. Chekov is going
  because he has broader experience than you do.
  My choice is no resection on your
abilities or
  record. In fact, your friend Sulu made sure
I knew
  just how fine your Academy record is."

  Maybri closed her eyes in embarrassment.
"I'll kill
  him." Kirk grinned. "Don't I need my
senior
  officers to give me their judgments, the benefits
of
  their experience. Based on everything I've heard
  about you, I'd like to think you might be one of
  those senior officers in the future. At any
rate, I
  know this was going to be your first field
  assignment, and I know you're disappointed, but
  it's only a delay, not a cancellation. You'll have
  your chance to tackle Akkallan ecology once
the
  Enterprise finishes up at Vestra.
Meanwhile, I
  think Spock and Chekov could use your help in
  programming their evaluation sequence. That's an
  order, Maybri."
  "Yes, sir . . . and thank you."
  "Dismissed."
  Kirk watched her go, eagerness in every step.
  When the door shut behind her and he was by
  himself, he thought about all the eager young
  officers he'd had under his command Chekov,
  Sulu, Uhura, Reilly more names than he could
  recall. He'd watched those young officers come
  through their baptisms of fire, seen coltish
  exuberance tempered by hard-won wisdom. Kirk
  also thought about the officers who'd died under
  his command. Those names he would never
  forget. He could still visualise every letter he'd
  ever had to send to a home world where a
  grieving family waited, seeking a reason for
  something that seemed senseless.... Sorry to inform
  you of the death of ... A f ne and dedicated of
firer
  who made the ultimate sacrif ce in support
of our
  shared quest for knowledge and peace. I share your
  loss, and wish you comfort in your time of grief . .
  .
  With a chilled shiver, Kirk shook himself free of
  the specters, though just for the moment' The
  older he got, the more easily they came to call
on
  his subconscious.
  "I don't want to write any more letters like that,"
  he said softly. Then, almost without thinking, he
  found himself caressing the cold surface of the
  table, seeking solace from the heart of the
  Enterprise herself, the gallant lady who'd been
his
  partner through so many trials. He knew he was
  trying to use her to fill a cold, dark place in
his
  own heart, a space he'd discovered only
recently.
  Or perhaps it had always been there, and he'd
  only lately been able to admit to the existence of
  that small spot of emptiness.

  Why should it be there? he asked, aware it was
  a question only he could answer.
  James T. Kirk had become
virtually everything
  his destiny had promised. On balance, given the
  chance to live life over again, he'd follow the
  same course. Still, there was that empty corner
  inside, a hidden sanctuary he wasn't yet
able to
  summon the courage to enter. But he'd peeked,
  fleetingly, long enough to glimpse a message
  written there in ghostly relief. Home, it said.
  Maybe it's time to go home . . .
  Perhaps soon, but not yet. For now, there was
  work to do. Jim Kirk left the briefing room and
  headed for a chamber where he never felt the
  emptiness the bridge of the starship Enterprise.

  Chapter Two
  CAPTAIN S LOG tilde STARDATE
7823.6:
  As Chief Engineer soon the transfer of
equip-
  ment, supplies, and personnel from Starbase

  to the Enterprise, Science Offlcer Spock and
  Lieutenant Chekov are outfitting the science
  scout shuttle Cousteau. They'll be
departing
  before we will, headed for Akkalla, where theyUI
  begin reviewing the work done over the past
  thirteen months by Dr. Cynthia
McPhiHips and
  her team. Akkalla is of great scientific
interest
  because of its unusual ecology. It's one of
only
  a handful of worlds with a surface almost
  completely covered by water yet also having
  developed a normal variety of flora and
fauna,
  including intelligent humanoid Ufe. It would
  seem a routine assignment, easily handled by
  two of my best officers.. But we have been
  made aware by Starfleet Command of certain
  potential problems. First, although Akkalla is
a
  FederatTon member, it's been a troublesome
  one, with a government leaning substantially
  toward the authoritarian. Second, I'm
concerned
  with the fact that there's been no direct contact
  with the McPhillips science team, only
  messages relayed through the Akkallan
  government. Official Federation protests against
  mis Akkallan policy have had no effect.
  THE STARSHIP HUNG in a synchronous orbit
  about one hundred miles from the large space
  station that housed Starbase 18. The station
  was shaped somewhat like a rather odd
  dumbbell, with spacedock modules on either
  end of a long central cylinder, where twenty
  decks of habitable work space and living
  quarters were located. Each docking mod

  ule had room inside for up to a dozen ships of
  various sizes, with other vessels in numerous
  parking orbits outside. But traffic patterns
were
  rarely-that heavily filled in this sector, and at
  present the Enterprise was the only ship of any
  great size in the vicinity.
  Kirk drummed his fingers lightly on the arm of
  the command seat. With his crew doing their jobs,
  he found himself in the unenviable position of
  simply waiting. He checked the chronometer on
  his control panel, then pressed the intercom
  button.
  "Bones, how's everything going?"
  McCoy came into view on one of the overhead
  screens. "Everything isn't going at all, was he
said with
  mild sarcasm. "still don't know what's going on
down
  there, Jim, but base seems incapable of beaming
  people and cargo at the same time. So until they're
  finished filling our holds, no personnel are
  transporting up. So I'm just cooling my
heels."
  "Oh." Keeping McCoy on, Kirk contacted
the
  ship's lower cargo section, which appeared on a
  split screen with the picture from sickbay. The
  cargo levels were bustling with activity. But
Scott
  was nowhere in sight. "Mr. Scott, progress
report,
  please?"
  After a few seconds' lag, Scott lurched
into
  view, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead.
"Aye,
  sir. Scott here. his
  "Dr. McCoy says base won't beam
personnel
  until they're done transporting cargo."
  Scott's eyes widened, and he gritted his
teeth. "I
  don't believe it. That's what they were supposed
to
  be usin' the shuttles for. The plan was t "do it
at the
  same time. You'd think they were havin'a bloody
  picnic down there instead of coin" work.
D'y'want
  me to call and knock some heads together7"
  "Looks like you've got enough to keep you busy.
  Finish up with the freight. We'll take care of the
  problem up here."
  The cargo deck faded from the screen, leaving
  McCoy on visual. "Marvelous operation
they've got
  going over there, Jim. his
  "Yeah, well, I think we'll have this straightened
  out in a minute. Stand by, Bones. You'll have
  guests any time now."
  The screen went blank, and Kirk turned to his
  communications officer. "Uhura, tackle
the
  bureaucratic maze, please."

  She tapped her earpiece with a manicured
  fingernail. "I'll clear it up, sir."
  "Kirk to Cousteau. Progress report, Mr.
Spock?"
  The Vulcan's voice came over the speaker.
  "Spock here. We have just completed final
prelaunch
  checklist. his
  "Mr. Spock," Chekov broke in. "We have
launch
  clearance. his
  "Thank you, Mr. Chekov. I presume you
heard,
  AdmiraLike his
  "Yes. Good luck, Spock. I hear the
Cousteau's a
  good ship."
  "Do you have any idea yet when we can expect to
  rendezvous with you at Akkalla?"
  "At the moment, I don't even know when we're
  leaving here. But I don't think it'll take more
than
  two or three days."
  "We should be well along in our evaluation by that
  time. his
  "Good. We'll see you then, Spock. We'll
be in
  touch if anything unexpected comes up. Kirk
out."
  Spock and Chekov sat side by side in the
  contoured seats of the science shuttle.
  "All moorings cleared, Mr. Spock,"
Chekov said
  as he handled the navigation controls with a sure
  touch.
  On the broad curved viewscreen in front of
  them, Spock and Chekov watched as the docking
  bay's great doors engaged and began sliding
  ponderously aside, gaping like a whale's mouth.
  When the opening was wide enough, the red
  blinking lights along the ends of both doors
  changed to steady green. A female voice came
  over the Cousteau's speaker.
  "Cleared for departure, Cousteau. Take good
care
  of the rowboat, Commander Spock. Remember,
  she's only rented. Bon voyage."
  "Thank you, Starbase Control," Spock
replied.
  "Mr. Chekov, take us out."
  "There she is," Uhura said, adjusting the
  viewscreen angle so the bridge crew could
watch
  their colleagues leaving. The Cousteau was sky
  blue, with leaping dolphins emblazoned on her
  flanks adjacent to the ship's name and registry
  number. Constructed especially to explore
watery
  worlds, it was capable of landing on water as well
  as land

  and could even submerge and operate as a
  submarine. it wasn't surprising that, like
animals
  nature had intended for liand in the seas, the
  science craft seemed ill at ease anywhere
else.
  Chekov changed the craft's attitude and flew
  directly past the Enterprise. Both ships
winked
  their running lights in salute.
  "Mr. Chekov, set course for
Akkalla, warp
  three. Engage when ready."
  "Course already laid in, sir. Warp three."
  He gripped the throttle with a fimn hand and
  moved it ahead. The science shuttle's warp
drive
  kicked in, and with the familiar rainbow effect it
  blasted into hyperspace.
  Spock knew why he'd been placed in charge of
  assessing the work of the Akkallan science
  outpost. He was, after all, the Enterprise
science
  officer, he had both command and hands-on
  science experience, and he'd previously done this
  sort of rating of independent projects as well
as
  evaluating the starship's own science departments.
  His assignment by Kirk was, in fact, the
logical
  thing to do. But the Vulcan couldn't help feeling
  vaguely uneasy. As a Vulcan, he based
his
  judgments only on demonstrable, objective
  findings by the science team under scrutiny. Data
  were entered into the computer program Spock
  himself had designed for just such tasks, a
  program deemed so effective at providing a
sound
  system for measuring scientific endeavors that it
  was used throughout Starfleet and the Federation.
  Subjectivity was all but eliminated from the
  process, and the conclusions reached were
  inarguable, built strictly on statistical
analysis.
  And with Vulcans and other rigorously rational
  races, the results were accepted without question
  or quarrel. Unfortunately, in Spock's
opinion,
  there were many more intemperately irrational
  beings to deal with than rational ones. And with
  those, any remotely negative ratings
invariably
  elicited displays of damaged, prideful ego.
Spock
  had faced similar distasteful situations often
  enough to prefer avoiding evaluation duties
  altogether. But half a lifetime as a Starfleet
  officer made him all too aware that certain
  onerous tasks were part of the service.
  The Cousteau was a small spacecraft,
but it
  could accommodate a maximum crew of eight, so
  it seemed roomy with

  only two aboard. Guidance computers were on
  automatic, and Chekov was taking his sleep
period
  in the aft cabin. Alone, Spock used the
quiet time
  to review all data on the McPhillips team
and
  Akkalla itself. He popped a cassette into the
  computer and scanned the readout at high speed.
  McPhillips, the ecologist in charge, was from
  Earth, born on the Irish coast and raised in
  Hawaii. She'd studied at the University of
Hawaii
  Marine Biology Department and Cetacean
  Communications Center, got her doctorate there,
  then received her first Federation science grant.
  For the past seven years, she'd proven quite adept
  at writing proposals and obtaining funding for
  ecological studies that had taken her to four very
  different planets around the galaxy: one unnamed
  world where life was just being born in the
  nutrient-rich ooze of primordial seas;
Kochev's
  Planet, a chilled fossil reaching the end of its
  existence in the feeble light of a dying ember of a
  sun; Ra-Menae III, the only habitable
planet in a
  rare binary star system, where giant shell-encased
  creatures dominated in an otherworldly version of
  earth's age of dinosaurs; and, finally,
Akkalla, the
  water-covered planet that allowed McPhillips
to
  return to her first love, marine ecology.
  Interestingly, McPhillips was younger than her
  colleagues. Dr. Enzo Piretti, born on
the Italian
  isle of Sicily, was seventy-three. Dr.
Naw-Rocki,
  the only non-Terran of the group, was one
  hundred and thirty. But he was a Rannican,
where
  life spans commonly reached three hundred.
  Cynthia McPhillips was only forty, but she
was so
  highly regarded in her field that she'd
had her
  pick of colleagues for this study.
  As for Akkalla, it was the third planet of six
in
  its system. The second planet, Chorym, also
  barbered intelligent life. In fact, the
Chorymi were
  more advanced, having developed interplanetary
  spaceDight capability. But they'd made it very
  clear on several occasions that they had no
  inclination whatever toward becoming part of the
  United Federation of Planets.
  Spock found himself questioning the logic
  behind the Federation's unstinting effort to get as
  many planets as possible to become members.
  Privately, he believed more attention should be
  paid to quality of applicants than to quantity.
  Granted, there was a certain security in having the

  Federation Bag fly in all corners of the
galaxy. It
  made adventurism by Klingons, Romulans,
and a
  host of other less powerful antagonists somewhat
  less likely. But certain planets,
no matter that
  they'd sworn to abide by the codes of conduct of
  the Federation Charter, simply didn't seem able
  to fit in comfortably.
  Not that Spock wanted to alter the way any
  particular worlds chose to conduct cultural and
  societal affairs. After all, he subscribed
  wholeheartedly to the Vulcan IDIC
philosophy:
  infinite diversity in infinite combinations. But
  combination was a key word, and in order to be
  successful, or at least feasible, any combination
  had to include a tolerance and acceptance of
  differences in other parties. Some worlds seemed
  unwilling to make tolerance a two-way
  proposition.
  And not that he had any easy answers. To the
  contrary, Spock had none. But he would have
  been more sanguine about the whole political
  process had Federation Council leaders shown
  more open recognition of the need for discussing
  organisational inadequacies.
  He often wondered how his father had managed
  to be a diplomat for so many years, having to
  confront so regularly the illogic
inherent in
  political relationships. Yet Ambassador
Sarek's
  reputation was one of nearly imperturbable
  restraint and patience. Spock admired his father
  for that, though he was quite certain his own
  temperament would never lend itself to similar
  accomplishment, not in the diplomatic field at
any
  rate. No, scientific evaluation assignments
were as
  close as he cared to get to walking that fine line
  between truth and tact.
  The computer beeped at him, indicating that the
  data cassette had ended. On the viewscreen
above
  the paired pilot seats, a blue-grey globe
had come
  within visual range. It had ice caps at both
poles,
  and much of the planet was shrouded by clouds.
  There was a single major land mass, an uneven
  continent straddling the equator, with mountains
  rising up along a north-south line like a spine and
  jagged coastlines studded with bays and
inlets.
  Rivers cries-crossed the island continent like
veins
  on a leaf, with many feeding or originating at
  numerous lakes of all shapes. There were a few
  islands of varying sizes in both northern and
  southern polar waters, others Iying just off the
  western continental

  coast, and some scattered far off the mainland.
  But the dominant feature of this world was the
  endless sea.
  "Akkalla, I presume," Chekov said,
wiping sleep
  from his eyes as he climbed up to the control
  cabin. "It really is all ocean. I've never
seen a
  planet with so little land surface. Easy to see
why
  they never developed air travel there."
  "Indeed. The continent has an eminently
  navigable river and tributary system. It is
  approximately equal in size to your
Australian
  continent."
  "And I thought we had a lot of water on
Earth."
  "Yes," Spock agreed. "Seventy point
  eight-five-three-one percent by a recent
  calculation, taking into account glacial melting
  and silt buildup in the larger river delta
regions.
  That is among the higher water-to-land ratios in
  the known galaxy."
  Chekov gestured at the screen. "But nothing
  compared to Akkalla. Ninety-eight percent his
  "Ninety-eight point six-one-one, Mr.
Chekov.
  We must maintain maximum accuracy in our
  data."
  "Aye, Mr. Spock," Chekov sighed,
silently
  chastising himself for dispensing with the
  decimals.
  "Would you care to fly manual final approach?"
  Chekov grinned. "As a matter of fact, I
would.
  Flying this vessel is very different from the
  Enterprise."
  Spock's long fingers flipped a pair
of toggles
  and disengaged the automation systems. "Very
  well, lieutenant. The ship is yours. Take
us in."
  Their destination was Tyvol, the mainland
  capital set on the shore of Havensbay, a
  well-protected harbor on the northwest coast,
with
  three rivers flowing through the city and emptying
  into the bay. Tyvol also had an extensive
canal
  network.
  The Cousteau was still some distance away, and
  the planet's rotation was carrying the continent
  out of view. The other side of Akkalla was a
  stunning sight just a few small outcroppings of
  land rising from a vast blue-grey sea,
probably the
  tips of submerged mountains and volcanoes. They
  looked like forgotten scraps led behind after the
  planet was created, lonely and lost.
  "Not much to see on this side of the world,"
  Chekov said.
  "Nothing apparent, but oceans are noted for
  hiding things of great interest, Mr.
Chekov. Your
  own planet's

  history is replete with examples of
surprises
  yielded by the oceans' depths only after decades
  or centuries of exploration."
  "That's true. I remember reading about that fish
  they found in the twentieth century after they
  thought it was extinct for millions of years his
  "The coelacanth," Spock said.
  "Perhaps a survey orbit or two would be a good
  idea then sir?"
  Spock nodded. "Set coordinates, please."
  Chekov tapped the keys of the navigation panel,
  and the Cousteau heeled over to its new course.
  "Computer," Spock said, "begin full scan of
  planet, including cross-sectional scan of
ocean and
  categorisation of life forms."
  As the survey craft swung into orbit, it
  accelerated to exceed Akkalla's rotational
  velocity, starting on the night side but rapidly
  approaching the line of demarcation be tween
  night and day on the continental side of the
  world.
  Chekov frowned and put one hand up to his
  communications earpiece. "Sir, I'm receiving a
  message."
  "Source?"
  "The planet an Akkallan government
channel."
  The Russian flipped a switch, routing it to the
  cabin speaker. They heard an official-sounding
  female voice.
  "To unidentified spacecraft intruding on
Akkallan
  orbital territory you are warned to turn back
  immediately. Do not approach repeat do not
  approach. The Akkallan government is not
  responsible foryour safety if you proceed past
this
  point. his
  Spock activated the comm system.
"To Akkallan
  government this is Commander Spock of the
  Federation science vessel Cousteau. We are on
a
  scheduled approach and request clearance. We his
  The voice interrupted, repeating its
message:
  "To unidentified spacecraft intruding on
Akkallan
  orbital territory you are warned to turn back
  immediately. Do not approach repeat do not
  approach. The Akkallan government is not
  responsible for your safety if you proceed past
this
  point. his
  "Presumably an automated broadcast,"
Spock
  said, his eyebrow elevated. "Set comm system for
  the government contact channel previously
  authorised."

  "Aye, sir."
  To be on the safe side, Spock reduced their
  speed while Chekov punched in the local
  frequency. The speaker came to life again with
  the now-familiar warning: "To unidentif ed
  spacecraft intruding on Akkallan or -- his
  As abruptly as it had started, the message was
  cut off, sliced by static. Chekov winced as he
  yanked out his earpiece with one hand and
  decreased the volume with the other.
  Spock glanced at him. "Did you break
contact?"
  Chekov shook his head. "No, sir." He
replaced
  the earpiece carefully and tried to pick up the
  automatic warning again, to no avail. "It's being
  jammed, Mr. Spock."
  "At the source?"
  "No, sir. Something between the broadcast
  station and us." Chekov tried other channels.
"All
  communications are inoperative, sir."
  The Cousteau drifted forward, into Akkallan
  daylight. In the sudden glare of Akkalla's
sun,
  they saw something that shouldn't have been
  there a half-dozen spaceships. Five were
  insignificant insects buzzing around the sixth,
a
  giant vessel nearly the size of a starship.
Its
  configuration was totally different, though, with no
  grace to its form. Utilitarian, ugly,
lumbering, it
  had a wide, blunt bow, a dome on
top, stubby
  protrusions on its lower flanks, and a tapered
area
  that swept back before flaring into a squared
  engine housing. The housing had small thrusters
  on all sides and a matched pair of main engine
  nozzles at the stern.
  The five escort ships, each smaller than the
  Cousteau, were shaped like sculpted diamonds,
  longer at the bow and truncated behind. By the
  way they were arrayed in protective formation
  around the larger ship, Spock judged them to be
  fighters of some sort.
  "Mr. Spock, those ships are doing the jamming."
  "Switch scanners, Mr. Chekov. We will
need as
  much information on those vessels as possible."
  The other spacecraft were moving purposefully
  in the same direction as the Cousteau and had not
  yet noticed the newcomer behind them. "Reduce
  speed," Spock ordered. "Pace them."
  "Aye, sir."
  "Computer, is there sufficient data for
  identification?"
  24
  "Affirmative. Ships registered as Chorymi
  militaryfighters accompanying harvest ship."
  The Vulcan's eyebrow arched again at the word
  military. "Fascinating. There is no record
of
  hostility between Chorym and Akkalla."
  "No, sir. In fact, I remember reading that
there
  have been a number of treaties of peaceful
  cooperation between them."
  "Then why a Chorymi military convoy and why
  were we warned away by a message evidently
  triggered automatically by our approach?
  Recommendation, Mr. Chekov?"
  "Continue to maintain our distance, but follow
  the ships and see exactly what's going on."
  Spock nodded. "I agree." He adjusted the
  viewscreen to maximum magnification, and the
  huge mother ship filled their field of vision.
"Full
  power to deflector screens, Mr. Chekov."
  "Aye, sir." As Chekov diverted reserve
power to
  the ship's defensive shields, the cabin
illumination
  dimmed and the emergency lights blinked on. The
  yellow alert indicator flashed on the overhead
  instrument console.
  The convoy slowed and entered a polar orbit
  around Akkalla. Spock nudged the Cousteau
into
  matching orbit as the Chorymi ships moved into
  position high over a vast stretch of Akkallan
sea.
  "Most interesting," said Spock. "Their course
  seems deliberate. Analysis, Mr.
Chekov?"
  The Russian's fingers skipped over several
keys
  at the science console. A second later,
sensor data
  appeared on the small screen to his right.
  "They're in geosynchronous orbit, six
hundred
  kilometers above the surface, approximately
five
  thousand kilometers off the coast, and six
  hundred north of the equator."
  "And sensors indicate they are scanning deep
  into the sea itself. They appear to be searching
  for something in particular. Divert one-quarter of
  our sensor capability to scan the same
region."
  "Aye, sir." Chekov peered into his science
  station scope while commanding the computer to
  switch scanner targets. Then he felt the ship
  change course and gain speed, and he looked up.
  "Whatever it is they seek, it seems they have
  found it,"

  Spock said as he guided the Cousteau to follow,
  though still keeping a discreet separation. "Any
  data yet, lieutenant?"
  "Yes, sir. I'm getting overwhelming readings
  from that part of the ocean. There's so much
  there it's almost impossible to analyze."
  "Recorders at maximum. We shall examine the
  data later."
  The Chorymi convoy was diving toward Akkalla,
  as if making an attack run at the planet
surface.
  The Cousteau trailed behind, a faint pink glow
  curling around the small ship as it encountered
  the first diffuse particles of the atmosphere's
  upper fringes. Their angle of descent was
steep,
  and Chekov concentrated on the sensors as the
  Chorymi spacecraft began sweeping curves,
using
  atmospheric friction to help reduce their
speed.
  "Altitude one hundred thirty kilometers.
Speed
  eight thousand kilometers per hour," he said.
  The coral glow enveloping the Cousteau
  deepened to fiery orange, and the ebony darkness
  of outer space began to change from inky indigo,
  with the stars still visible as unwavering pinpoints,
  to cobalt, then azure. The stars blurred, then
gave
  way to the power of the Akkallan sun. Below, a
  cottony Boor of clouds seemed to rush up at
  them andwitha sudden thump and shudder,
  they broke through the thick shroud and into a
  greyness that stretched to every horizon. Rain
  spattered across the viewscreen and the image of
  the giant Chorymi ship that loomed before them.
  "Altitude five kilometers," Chekov
continued.
  "Four . . . three . . . two . .
." The Russian stopped
  and took a startled breath. "Mr. Spock, there
are
  ten surface vessels converging on the same
spot!"
  He initiated a computer search for any
  communications from the spacecraft or the
  surface vessels. "The surface craft are
Akkallan
  patrol boats and the Chorymi spaceships are
  definitely not welcome."
  Chekov's face twisted as he read the computer's
  instant sensor report. "This is impossible.
I've
  never seen such a powerful magnetic flux
  artificially generated. It's it's coming from the
  mother ship."
  Spock leaned over to glance at the same
  readout. "I see it, Mr. Chekov. It
appears to be
  creating an energy field around

  it. I would surmise that we are about to find out
  why the Chorymi convoy is not welcome."
  The ocean churned with increasing violence,
  jolting the Akkallan ships as they raced along.
  High overhead, the dark bulk of the Chorymi
  mother ship continued its precipitous drop. The
  Akkallan cutters had sharply streamlined
silhou-
  ettes, all curves and angles, decks
completely
  enclosed, but they were having increasing
  difficulty slicing through the ever higher seas.
  Even worse, the waves rose in no normal
pattern,
  rearing suddenly, cresting and swirling all at
once.
  The closer the invading spaceships got to the
  water, the more turbulent the seas became.
  "It stopped." Chekov's voice was a stunned
  whisper. "It's it's just hovering"
  On screen, the monstrous vessel had indeed
  paused, a thousand meters above the crashing
  seas, like a ship becalmed in the eye of a tempest.
  But it was a tempest of the spacecraft's own
  creation, and the Chorymi ship was quite clearly
  immune to all its violent effects.
  From the ocean below, the Akkallan defenders
  launched surface-to-air rockets,
each cutter firing
  missiles in pairs. With their contrails twisting
like
  angry snakes, the rockets homed in, and the
  diamond-shaped Chorymi fighters broke their
  geometric formation to engage in battle. Two
  tackled the incoming projectiles with pulses of
  blue flame spitting from their bellies as
cannon
  pellets picked off the missiles soaring up from
the
  ocean.
  The remaining trio of fighters arced high over
  the mother ship, then banked into a dive to strafe
  the Akkallan patrol boats. The new
attack was
  too much for the boats, already floundering in the
  waves, and they broke off their abortive
defence.
  Survival became their first order of business.
  Spock called up an infrared image of the area
  directly around and below the big Chorymi
vessel.
  Tightening red coils whipped about a blank
core,
  with orange and yellow tendrils like the arms of
  a whirling galaxy. Splashings of green and blue
  measured the much cooler temperatures of the
  seawater farther from the center of the
  disturbance. The patterns changed even as they
  watched, and the Vulcan's eyes narrowed with
  deepening interest. "Most ingenious."

  "tilde What is it, sir?"
  "The large craft is actually manufacturing
an
  intense miniature hurricane." Spock
pointed at
  features on the infrared chart. "Their energy
field
  has somehow produced a ripple in the prevailing
  winds, which trapped moist air at sea level.
Such
  air contains energy in the form of latent heat
  absorbed from the sun. When this vaporous air is
  drawn up, it cools, condenses, and warms
  surrounding air molecules, which also rise, in
turn
  drawing additional air up. The Coriolis force
  caused by planetary rotation directs
winds
  converging at the center of this rapidly developing
  lowpressure system, imparting a
counterclockwise
  spiraling."
  "All that just to fight off the Akkallan surface
  ships?"
  "I suspect they have another purpose, although
  it was an effective air-to-sea weapon."
  "What are they up to?"
  It wasn't long before they witnessed the next
  phase of the Chorymi raid. The huge craft
tipped
  slightly forward and dropped inexorably toward
  the ocean. The unnatural squall grew more and
  more violent, the fury of the blow spreading and
  tossing the Akkallan boats like toys.
  Then the lower part of the harvest ship's prow
  yawned, resembling the mandible of some
  nightmarish beast lowering to eat.
  "Mr. Spock, barometric pressure
dropping in the
  vicinity of the spacecraft."
  "Indeed. Still dropping?"
  Chekov blinked in disbelief.
"Affirmative.
  It's it's down to zero at the eye of the" he
  wasn't sure what to call it, then finished with a
  shrug "the storm." He held his breath for a
  moment, then sat back and looked at Spock's
  hooded eyes. "Negative pressure."
  A funnel of seawater gathered and surged from
  the ocean's surface, freed of gravity's
constraints
  by the Chorymi energy field. With a cyclonic
spin,
  the vortex weaved uncertainly, seemingly
  anchored. The harvest ship dipped even farther
  until it was barely above the frothing waves. The
  waterspout-widened suddenly and was sucked into
  the gaping maw of the giant vessel as it crept
  forward, swallowing vast volumes of Akkallan
  ocean.
  Of the overmatched patrol cutters, three had
  been swamped. The others fought to escape the
  pull of the alien

  energy field and the storm it had generated. The
  sleek boats vaulted towering whitecaps, only
to be
  battered by crossswells crashing in from all
sides.
  "Analysis of the contents of that water funnel,
  Chekov."
  "Seawater, trace elements, and . . . thousands
of
  life forms, ranging from microscopic
to creatures
  up to twentyfive meters long, the size of
whales."
  Unconcerned by the destructive forces set off in
  its wake, the harvest ship earned its designation
  by skimming the roiling waves and vacuuming up
  thousands of tons of water. Spock and Chekov
  could see torrents cascading out of the ship's
  mouth through grates on the ventral surface of
  the aw.
  "It has a filtration system," Chekov said,
reading
  the scanners again. "The water coming out of the
  bottom is free of life forms. They're being
held
  inside."
  The big vessel made two more long sweeps, and
  then, like a sated leviathan, the harvest
ship took
  a leisurely path to higher altitude, making a
wide
  turn as its escort fighters returned
to regroup for
  the voyage home. And they spotted the Cousteau
  for the first time. Two of the small angular craft
  peeled away from the harvest ship and streaked
  directly toward the previously unnoticed
spectator.
  Spock quickly opened a communications
  channel and got a shriek of feedback.
"We're
  still subject to their jamming. Probably
  interference caused by the energy field."
  "Which means we can't tell them who we are."
  "Correct. Stand by for evasive maneuvers."
  The science shuttle held its course, then
ducked
  sharply, causing the Chorymi fighters to zip
  directly overhead. Spock rolled up into the
  desirable position of having their attackers Dying
  away from the shuttle at high speed. He had to
  assume they'd be back but hoped they didn't
  consider this unidentified quarry worth much
of a
  chase. "Mr. Chekov, calculate the most
direct
  course to the Akkallan mainland."
  None too delicately, Spock shoved the
throttle
  control to maximum intra-atmospheric speed, and
  the G-forces squeezed them back into their seats.
  "Damn." Chekov glanced up from his scanner.
  "They're closing on us. They were built for this .
  . . we weren't."
  Spock replied by throwing the Cousteau into an
  evasive

  spiral, taking care to keep relatively on
course
  toward backslash the Akkallan capital of
Tyvol. The first
  burning blue streaks of Chorymi cannon fire
  sizzled past the shuttle's flanks, and Chekov
  flashed the tactical readout on Spock's
display
  screen.
  The fighters were still closing on their tail.
  Suddenly, Spock yanked the throttle
back and
  cut their speed to a standstill. The pursuing
  Chorymi ships rushed past, trying to duplicate
the
  maneuver long after it was too late.
  Chekov grinned wickedly. "Good move, Mr.
  Spock."
  "Let us hope it was good enough." Spock
  spurred the shuttle back to top speed as the
  engine whined in protest. The Akkallan continent
  was in sight, its flat shores protected by a
string of
  volcanic islands rising up from the sea.
  But the tactical screen showed the dogged
  Chorymi fighters hadn't yet given up. They
were
  back within weapons range, and they fired a
  second volley. Spock threw the Cousteau
into a
  spin, but not in time. He and Chekov both felt the
  shuttle take two hits at the stern. A
muffled
  explosion shook the craft, and acrid smoke
seeped
  up from the lower deck, burning their eyes.
Cabin
  lights flickered, then steadied at a low level
when
  Chekov cut the main engines and patched in
  emergency battery power. They could smell the
  chemical foam of the automatic fire control
  system from the rear compartment.
  Just as they were expecting to be finished off,
  the aggressor blips on the tactical grid
veered
  away to catch up with the rest of their fleet, which
  was already nearing the upper atmosphere on its
  way back home. Chekov acknowledged this
  providential twist of fate by letting out a very
long
  breath.
  "We're lucky, sir. I thought they were going to
  blow us out of the sky for sure."
  "Vulcans do not believe in luck, Mr.
Chekov.
  And even if we did, I would be forced to question
  your conclusion. Our main engines are inoperable,
  and our batteries are damaged, as are our
  navigation and guidance systems. We may not
  have sufficient power to reach the mainland his
  Chekov brightened. "But this ship can land in the
  water."
  "We do not know the extent of structural
damage.
  The

  ship may not be seaworthy. If we set down in
  water, we may sink."
  Chewing on his lip, Chekov regarded his senior
  officer silently. Well, he thought. We
Russians are
  supposed to be fatalistic. "I will go below and
check
  our survival gear."
  "A constructive idea. I shall attempt the best
  possible landing."
  As he clambered out of the cockpit area,
  Chekov paused. "Even though you don't believe
in
  it, good luck, sir."
  "As we have seen, Mr. Chekov, luck is a
relative
  term."
  Relatively speaking, their luck held out, though
  it took their combined technical skills
to guide the
  ship manually and ditch it within sight of an
  island off the coast of the continental mainland.
  With landing skids stretched forth prayerfully, the
  Cousteau hit the water and skipped like a flat
  stone before settling.
  Chekov hit a console switch, and they heard a
  hydraulic grinding, followed by a
vacuum-release
  hissing. "Auxiliary flotation devices
deployed."
  Spock made a quick check on the external
  environment via ship's sensors.
"Temperature
  thirty-three Celsius. Humidity eighty-one
percent."
  Chekov's lip curled disapprovingly.
  "Such readings are to be expected," said Spock.
  "We have landed at an equatorial latitude."
  "Russians," Chekov sighed, "were never
meant
  to live in a rain forest."
  "We shall make every effort to keep our stay
  here as brief as possible, lieutenant. Now,
we are
  approximately one point two-six
kilometers from
  the nearest land. Our best course of action
  appears to be abandoning ship."
  "I guess so, sir." Chekov gave a
grudging nod.
  "1"'11 go below and get the life raft ready.
I'll also
  anchor the ship so we can find her when the
  Enterprise gets here."
  "I'll gather what we need here."
  The younger officer unstrapped his safety
  harness and climbed out of the cockpit. He
  paused at the hatch. "I knew she'd be
seaworthy."
  Spock busied himself packing data cassettes
as
  well as old-fashioned maps and charts in
  waterproof packs. Then

  he heard bootsteps climbing up the ladder from
  the lower deck and turned to see Chekov with a
  dubious expression on his face. He was soaked
up
  to his knees.
  "She's not quite as seaworthy as I thought, Mr.
  Spock."
  "How bad is it?"
  "I couldn't find the leaks, but water's coming in
  from somewhere. She may not be afloat for very
  long. But everything else is ready. The raft is
  packed and on the winch."
  The Vulcan handed two packs to Chekov and
  took two himself With one last Lola around the
  cabin, they made their way through a cramped
  midship passage to the open exterior hatchway.
  The inflatable life raft hung on its cables,
and
  they stepped in. Chekov touched the remote
  control switch, and the winch assembly lowered
  them three meters down to the waves. With a nod
  from Spock, he released than last mooring
lines,
  and the raft floated free of the science shuttle,
  which was now listing slightly to starboard. Again
  using the remote, Chekov sealed the hatch.
  The life raft had a small motor, as well
as
  watertight compartments containing food, medical
  kits, tents, tools, and devices
they'd need for
  survival. Spock opened one seal and withdrew a
  pair of tricorders and phasers.
  "Navigator's discretion, Mr. Chekov.
Head for
  shore, and we'll take stock of our situation."
  "Aye, sir." He opened the throttle wide and
  grasped the mdder handle, aiming for the
  mountain island facing them across the expanse of
  sea. "Maybe we'll find dancing girls in
grass skirts
  who'll greet us as conquering gods."
  "Doubtful. Our purpose would be better served
  by finding residents capable of guiding us to Tyvol
  on the mainland."
  "Well, why not wish for both?"
  The beach stretched like a narrow greyish apron
  around the island. With the raft riding the crest of
  a low wave, Chekov cut the motor and let the
surf
  push them up on the coarse, Witty sand. Before
  the undertow could take hold and tug them back,
  he and Spock jumped out into knee-deep water
  and caught the mooring cords, beaching the
  inflatable out of reach of the salty fingers of
  breakers rolling in and foaming on the shore.

  Though the beach seemed to form an unbroken
  rim as far as they could see, at least a mile in
  either direction until the coast curved back, it
was
  a shallow strip, and lush forest crept toward the
  water's edge. High tide might cover the sand
  altogether, judging by the seaweed and flotsam
  washed nearly all the way to the foliage. It was
  dear they wouldn't be able to camp right along
  the shore.
  The humidity made its presence felt with every
  breath of dank air. They stripped off their
  uniform jackets and bunched their shirt sleeves
up
  around their elbows. Up in the sky, the clouds
  parted and the sun burst through.
  If the Russian wasn't genetically suited for
  equatorial weather, neither was Spock. His home
  planet was certainly known for its ovenlike heat,
  but Vulcan was also dry as a parched streambed.
  Considering the likely tidal path, they hauled
  the raft to the top edge of the sand and lashed it
  firmly to a pair of sturdy tree
trunks curving high
  over their heads. Wherever their reconnaissance
  might take them, they wanted the only means of
  water transport they had to be there when they
  came back. Spock scuffed the toe of his boot
  down into the sand, turning up a Heater
  concentration of darker grains below the surface
  level.
  "Volcanic."
  "All these islands are volcanoes, aren't they?"
  "Affirmative. Built up by thousands of years
of
  eruptions. Volcanic material produces
  high-nutrient soil once it breaks down."
  "Do you think this one is extinct?"
  Curiosity raised the Vulcan's eyebrow, and
he
  picked up a tricorder, scanning the island and
  forest. They stepped back for a better look over
  the trees. The mountain's gently sloped cone
wore
  a coat of green along its base, then faded
into
  mist. "I am reading some signs of activity
heat
  release, movement of magma deep within the
  core."
  Chekov looked worried as Spock continued.
  "But no indications of recent or
  imminent eruptions."
  Spock came back and sat on the soft side
of the
  raft, pulled out a data cassette, and inserted
it
  into the tricorder. According to their charts, the
  island was known as Shilu. It was the largest of a
  string of six, about seventy miles across,

  and it consisted essentially of one
  five-hundred-thousandyear-old volcano called
  Shiluzeya. Last known eruption two hundred
years
  ago, now classified as dormant, but
definitely not
  extinct.
  Shilu was about a hundred miles from the
  continental coast and nine hundred miles from
  Havensbay, the protected harbor where the
capital
  city was located. Since the raft's
motor was fueled
  by hydrogen that it got directly from seawater,
  there was no limit to distances that could be
  sailed in the tiny craft. And navigation wouldn't
  be hard, just a matter of following the coast. But
  the lifeboat was not fast, and they had no idea
  what conditions they'd be facing out on the water.
  In all likelihood, it would take them longer
to
  reach Tyvol than for the Enterprise to get to
  Akkalla from Vestra V.
  The only certainty at that moment was the time
  of day, perhaps three hours before nightfall, too
  late to do any further traveling. The decision
on
  their next moves could wait until morning. For the
  present, Spock decided they should scout the
  forest slightly inland, then return to the
  beachfront, and spend the night there, near the
  raft.
  With tricorders held high and phasers in hand,
  they ventured through the curtain of ferns and
  vines and into the rain forest. The ground was
  spongy, a carpet of dead leaves and rotting
wood,
  cushioning their footfalls and allowing them to
  move in near silence. But the sounds of footsteps
  would have been overwhelmed in any case by the
  music cascading from the leafy canopy above, a
  symphony of screeches, whistles, chirps,
grindings,
  and howlings. While their ears and tricorders
  registered unmistakable imprints of life, the
  animals might well have been invisible, hidden as
  they were in the treetops. The only visual hints
of
  their existence came when an occasional vine
  could be spotted swinging with leftover
  momentum after some creature had used it to
  sweep from one tree to another.
  Once they'd penetrated the outer fringes of
  dense, ground-hugging vegetation, they found
  their way unobstructed. The branches of the
  tallest trees effectively screened out
direct sunlight
  to the forest floor, preventing much growth
  around the tree trunks themselves. Chekov looked
  up at bright rays filtering through, shimmering in
  the dimness, with insects flitting like tiny dancers
  in spotlight

  beams. The darkness made it noticeably cooler
  than it had been on the beach. The still air
  carried the sweet scent of fresh humus, which was
  constantly being replenished by dead foliage
  falling from above to decompose rapidly in the
  moist soil and enrich the living trees, completing
  the rain forest's cycle of life.
  Graceful arches formed by intertwined boughs
  and ethereal dappling painted on the ground by
  flickering sunbeams gave the forest the feel of a
  natural cathedral.
  "There's so much life up there." Chekov's
  tricorder registered the activity they could hear
  but not see.
  "Yes. When rain forests are part of a planet's
  ecology, they are often the most densely
  populated habitat. On your planet, rain
forests
  were being destroyed at such an accelerated rate
  in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries that
  fully half of all known plant and animal
species
  disappeared within a thirty-year period. It was
  ironic indeed that, at a time when many of
  humanity's great scientific minds were studying
  the extinctions of antiquity, their fellow
Terrans
  were causing a mass extinction to rival the most
  devastating ever produced by nature."
  "I wish we could see some of the animals here."
  "Perhaps we can." Spock pointed to something
  shadowed between two stout tree trunks, and they
  approached cautiously. It was a bower,
carefully
  woven from vines, twigs, grass, and leaves,
built to
  a height of five feet. Chekov aimed a
small
  flashlight at the leafy structure, and they
spotted
  a foot-high opening at the base. Suddenly, a
  lethal-looking beak sprang out, snapping
savagely.
  Chekov and Spock were momentarily startled and
  didn't move as the beak's owner emerged a
  three-foot-tall birdlike creature with
eyeballs
  waving on short stalks, huge talons on its
toes,
  and graygreen skin that looked like a rumpled
  coat. It shrieked as it charged to within a few
feet
  of them, and they retreated hastily, phasers ready
  just in case. But as soon as they scrambled away,
  the creature halted its advance, evidently
satisfied
  that it had staked out its territory in no uncertain
  terms. It fluffed its coat and waved its beak in
  their direction with a bullying cockiness. With a
  few more snaps for good measure, the creature
  strutted backward toward its lair and disappeared
  inside.
  "A fascinating specimen," Spock said.

  "From a distance," Chekov decided, flashing a
  doubtful look at Spock.
  With phasers on their lightest utility setting, it
  didn't take long for them to cut away some of the
  bushes and undergrowth at the edge of the rain
  forest. When they were done, they had a flat spot
  of ground large enough for a two-man sleeping
  tent and a cooking area. While Spock constructed
  the tent, Chekov popped open the compact stove.
  Preparation didn't take long, and
Spock was
  soon nibbling on a vegetable stew. Chekov
ate
  cold borscht and a meat-filled croissant.
Between
  bites, the Russian started absently humming a
  dirgelike melody, eliciting a fractional
arch of
  Spock's eyebrow.
  "Dinner music, Mr. Chekov?"
  Chekov grinned. Must remembering songs we
  used to sing around the fire at Youth League
  campouts." He leaned back on a tree, hands
  folded behind his head as he reminisced. "Ahh,
  summers in the Caucasus or on the Black
Sea
  Cooking decadent western marshmallows . . ."
  "Marshmallows? I am not familiar with them."
  "Really?" Chekov leaned forward. "Well,
they're
  . . . uh . . . it's hard to describe them.
They're sort
  of little cylindrical puffs of sugar and air." His
  fingers formed a rough approximation. "And you
  stick them on the end of long forks or just
twigs,
  and you hold them over the fire. A real fire
works
  better than one of these."
  "And then what happens?"
  "They turn golden-brown and crisp on the
  outside, and they start to melt inside. And then
  you eat them directly off the stick, or you try
to
  pull them off without having them fall apart.
  They're very sticky and rather messy, I suppose."
  "And yet you find these marshmallows a
  pleasurable food item?"
  "Yes, we do."
  "Based on the ingredients you mentioned, they
  are not nourishing."
  "No. But they taste so good, we would eat so
  many of them . . . sometimes we'd get sick."
  Spock cocked his head as he considered the
  facts. "It would seem they serve no useful
dietary
  purpose."

  "No, sir. But . . . I wish we had some
now. Then
  you'd understand."
  "Perhaps, but I tend to doubt it. The attractive
  elements of many human preferences are not
  readily apparent to Vulcans."
  "Don't Vulcan children ever sleep out under the
  stars and sing songs around a campfire?" Chekov
  asked with an expansive gesture. After he said
it,
  it occurred to him he'd have a hard time picturing
  the scene he'd just described.
  Spock thought for a moment. "We sleep
  outdoors during the kahs-wan, the ten-day
  survival test of maturity Vulcan children must
  pass according to ancient custom. But that is not,
  as humans would classify it, furl." Then he
shook
  his head. "No, we never sing songs around a
  campfire... although, at the hottest time of
  summer, Vulcan youngsters might accompany
  their tutors outside to enjoy the cool evening
air."
  Chekov clapped his hands together. "Now we're
  getting somewhere! Do they look up at the stars
  and the Vulcan moons?"
  "Yes, now that I recall."
  "Are you sure they wouldn't sing songs?"
  "Quite certain, lieutenant."
  "Then what would they do?"
  "Their tutors would quiz them about quantum
  mechanics and astrophysics."
  Deflated by inescapable reality, Chekov sank
  back against the tree. "I should have known."
  Suddenly, a searing light flashed into his eyes,
  and he tried to shield his face. At the same
time,
  he and Spock both reached for the phasers on
  their belts. But they froze when a deep voice
  boomed, "Hold still hands on your heads drop
  to your knees."
  Instead, Chekov tried to stand, reaching again
  for his phaser. He was rewarded with a stinging
  blow to his chin, strong enough to stagger him.
  Spock was aware that there were two separate
  light beams, one shining on his face and one on
  Chekov's. Their intent was to blind, to prevent
  them from seeing their assaulters. The beams
  held steady as rough hands enforced the order to
  kneel and took their phasers and cornmunica

  tore. The voice came from another
angle. That
  meant he and Chekov were outnumbered at least
  five to two. Bad odds. Time to assess the
  situation, not to act without knowing the exact
  circumstances of their apparent capture.
  Footsteps scuffed the ground . . . the rustle of
  fabric as someone spread the tent flaps open and
  hastily searched inside . . . voices conferring
in
  rumbling whispers, too faint even for Spock
to
  hear clearly . . . Chekov's breathing, first
rapid,
  then growing calm as he gained control over his
  fear . . . sounds floating in from the darkness.
  Powerful hands locked under Spock's arms and
  dragged him to his feet. The light beams raised
to
  stay on target. He could tell Chekov had also
  been hauled up from his kneeling position.
Except
  for the couple of orders barked at thern, there'd
  been no attempt at purposeful communication.
  Too little information about their foes to make
  any reasonable assessments of their
likely fate.
  Spock judged it unlikely that he'd be killed
just
  for speaking, and any reaction he might evoke
  would be of some use in gauging their status.
  "Our vessel was disabled at sea. We his
  He was silenced with a fist to the midsection,
  doubling him over more out of surprise than pain.
  The punch wasn't that hard, and he straightened
  quickly. The commanding voice spoke again,
  snarling this time.
  "You keep quiet unless you're told
otherwise."
  Finally, the lights were aimed at the ground.
  Spock's vision cleared almost instantly five
  people, three men and two women, dressed in
  camouflage outfits to match the colors of the rain
  forest, baggy pants gathered at the ankle, arms
  bared to the shoulder, sandals, hair in
  close-cropped unisex style, utilitarian rather
than
  fashionable, framing young faces hardened by
  experience. Except for one face. The leader was
  much older, old enough to be father to the other
  four. And his expression was the hardest of
all,
  the stone-set jaw, the glint of fanaticism in the
  eyes, like a knife blade reflecting a
pinpoint flash
  just before it slashes for blood.
  "You're prisoners of the Cape Alliance," said
the
  leader. He was a thin man with weathered
  features and a raw-boned strength. "Got anything
  to say for yourselves?"
  Spock measured the man with a probing gaze.
  "As I attempted to explain, we were forced to
  seek shelter on this

  island when our vessel was disabled. We are not
  your enemies, sir."
  "I'll be the judge of that."
  "Obviously. However, since you clearly occupy
  a position of leadership, you bear the
  responsibility to be a fair judge, weighing
all
  relevant facts prior to passing sentence."
  "You've got a brave tongue, considering your
  predicament. What's your name?"
  "Spock. This is Chekov. Do you also
have a
  name?"
  "I do. It's Zzev."
  "May I ask what the Cape Alliance is
allied
  against?"
  "The Publican of Akkalla and his illegal
  government. Enough questions from you, Spock.
  You give me some answers. You're no
Akkallan,
  with those ears. Vulcan?"
  Spock replied with a silent nod.
  "Where's your ship?"
  "It was approximately one kilometeroff shore
  when we abandoned it."
  "How were you damaged?"
  "We were observing the altercation between
  your defense forces and the intruder convoy from
  Chorym."
  "Not our defense forces, Vulcan," Zzev
sneered.
  "We've got no love for this planet's
Paladins. Tell
  me, how did they do?"
  "They were rather soundly beaten something
  of a mismatch of firepower."
  Zzev snorted a short, mirthless laugh.
"That's an
  understatement. But it serves them right. They
  invited the Chorymi to harvest our seas to begin
  with. Now that the harvests have turned into
  raids, there's not a damn thing Akkalla can do
to
  stop them."
  "You are not then allied with the Chorymi
  either?"
  "We hate the Chorymi, Vulcan. Though it's
  hard to fault animals for following their
natures,
  I suppose."
  One of the younger rebels had gone off to
  rummage through the life raft and returned
  carrying a maroon uniform jacket. Zzev
snatched
  it and growled, "Starfleet off tilde comcers,
eh? That
  answers my question about where you two came
  from. You've got something to do with that
  Federation science station, don't you and don't
  lie to me his
  "We are members of the crew of the starship
  Enterprise, here to evaluate the work of the
  Federation outpost to his

  "A whole starship of Federation slaysharks
  gathering for the kill. Well, they're going to be in
  for a surprise when they get here. So will the
  Publican . . . and at least we know what
crime to
  charge the two of you with. Tie them up."
  Two of the others moved to bind Spock's and
  Chekov's hands behind them.
  "I tell you, we have committed no crimes," said
  Spock.
  "You and your friend here are charged with
  conspiracy."
  "Conspiracy with who?" Chekov blurted.
  "With the Publican, to keep the truth from the
  Akkallan people. If those scientists of yours
sided
  with us instead of him, we wouldn't be outlaws
  now."
  "But our scientists do not take sides in local
  disputes," Spock said.
  "More Federation lies, Vulcan. We
may be
  hunted as traitors now, but once the
Publican is
  overthrown and we take control of the
  Continental Synod, we'll see a few
differences on
  this planet. So your starship's coming here. You
  two may be pretty valuable commodities, so
we'll
  keep you alive for the time being. But if you're
  worthless sea scum, you'll face the
revolutionary
  court. And I can tell you now, the sentence is
  going to be death."
  The rebel band moved into the forest, then
  picked a spot to rest for a couple of hours. As
the
  first streamers of sunrise bled across an indigo
  sky, they started a long hike up the gently
sloped
  flank of the Shiluzeya volcano. For
purposes of
  cover, they stayed under the forest's leafy canopy
  most of the way. But twice they came across
  geologic zones that reminded them that the
island
  they were on was actually a giant volcano. These
  were rifts in the mountainside where lava had
  buWled forth from deep within the planet's
  molten core. Early in its history,
Shiluzeya had
  been a simple crack in the planet's crust.
Over
  millions of years, undersea eruptions had
built up
  sufficient material to create an island with enough
  altitude to rise up above sea level.
  The rifts allowed streams of lava to creep down
  toward the sea, and the old lava the rebels and
  their captives crossed was hardened like rough
  black pavement now, with golden highlights
  marbling its mottled surface.
  It was almost dark by the time the guerrillas
  followed the downturn of a gulley and approached
  a cave entrance burrowed into the mountain.

  "Are we going in there?" Chekov asked the
  young blond woman who was escorting them.
  "That's our base on this side of the island."
  The Russian swallowed hard, his
pulse racing.
  His palms turned cool and clammy, but the way
  his hands were bound behind him made it
  impossible to wipe them off. Sweatsoaked from
  the heat and humidity, his face blanched to chalk
  white. The thought of going deep inside a
  mountain, hands tied, no way to protect himself,
  no idea when or if he might emerge, had his
  stomach doing gymnastics and his legs
  transforming to rubber. Spock noticed as they
  paused at the entrance.
  "Mr. Chekov, are you quite all right?"
  "Never beHer, Mr. Spock. Why why do you
  ask?"
  "Your complexion."
  Chekov's dry lips parted into a wan imitation of
  a grin. "It's it's just that caves aren't my
favorite
  places."
  "Indeed. Perhaps I should request that we be
  permitted to remain outside."
  Before Chekov could reply, a scrabbling sound
  from the trees nearby snared the attention of the
  rebels, who dove for cover behind boulders and
  trees, shoving their Starfleet
captives
  unceremoniously face-down onto the moist
  ground. One of the young men pulled his sidearm
  and fired at a target barely glimpsed in the
  shadows beyond the clearing. The weapon flashed
  with a blunt report. Spock's eyes were able to
  follow the streaking bullet as it weaved around
  tree trunks and found its mark. The target
  screeched and thrashed briefly, then tumbled to
  the ground.
  The entire incident had taken a total of perhaps
  three seconds. While Chekov and Spock
waited,
  still flat on their bellies in the dirt, their
blond
  escort cautiously side-stepped toward the
victim.
  The others covered her from protected positions.
  She bent down. "Dead. But not a Paladin."
  When she straightened, she held a small
corpse
  up by one of its legs.
  Zzev shined his flashlight in her direction.
  "What is it, Ttrina?"
  She came back to the group, displaying a
small,
  furry primate with veinous flaps of skin
stretched
  between its arms and legs. "Just a glider."
  "We'll cook it," said Zzev.

  Chekov's stomach lurched as Spock helped him
  to his feet, and he weaved unsteadily. "They
seem
  a little jumpy sir. I don't think this is the time
to
  complain about the accommodations. I'll be all
  right."
  Two of the younger rebels led the way into the
  cave, painting the rock walls with roving light
  beams. Spock and Chekov were pushed in next,
  with Zzev and the others just behind. At intervals,
  the leaders paused to ignite chemical torches
  mounted on the cave walls. The torches
crackled
  as they cast quivering shadows out past the group.
  "Claustrophobia is not an unusual problem,
Mr.
  Chekov," Spock whispered. "Although I am
  somewhat surprised that the symptoms do not
  manifest themselves within the confines of a small
  spacecraft."
  Chekov tried to coax some saliva into his mouth,
  where he was certain alkaline tufts of fuzz had
  taken root. "It's not not claustrophobia.
It's it's
  just caves. One summer, on one of those camping
  trips I told you about his
  "The ones with the marshmallows."
  "Da. Some older children told me they wanted
  to show me something scary, but they thought I
  wasn't brave enough to go with them. I said I was,
  and they said they'd only take me if I went
  blindfolded."
  "Did you?"
  Chekov nodded. "They took me into a cave,
left
  me standing in the middle with my eyes still
  covered. Then they crept away and at the last
  second, they threw a rock and scared all the
bats
  off the cave ceiling. The bats flew right past
me
  and . . . well, I was almost the first
eight-year-old
  in the history of the Youth League to have heart
  failure. Ever since then, I haven't liked
caves very
  much."
  "But you are now an adult, Mr. Chekov. Is
it not
  time to overcome childhood obsessions?"
  "Logically, yes. But we humans aren't ruled
by
  logic."
  "So I have observed."
  The narrow passageway broadened into a
  triangular chamber with a vaulted ceiling soaring
  overhead. A halfdozen torches were lit,
revealing
  a cavern like a cathedral, with crystalline
  stalactites hanging down and stalagmites rising
up
  from the cave floor like magical columns. In the
  central part of the grotto, stalactites dripping
  down had formed ornate pagodalike pillars,
wide
  at the bottom, then

  spiraling up into the darkness. Water
droplets
  splashed in atonal harmony.
  Judging by its contents, this particular cave was
  indeed a regular guerrilla base. In addition
to the
  chemical lights in wall brackets, the main
  chamber had simple metal-framed cots,
cooking
  implements, and supplies in sealed containers.
  Spock quickly scanned the cavern, absorbing and
  cataloging every detail. Then he turned back
to
  see how Chekov was coping. The Russian
seemed
  considerably calmer.
  "This cave has some amenities, lieutenant.
  Remember that irrational fear is a construct of
an
  undisciplined intellect."
  "I know that, sir."
  "In fact, I would estimate that the cave itself
  presents less of a danger to us than our
captors
  do unless, of course, this volcano reactivates
  while we are inside, emitting toxic
gases which
  would kill us within five seconds, or erupting and
  adding molten lava Bows to the manufacture of
  the gases."
  Chekov's only response was an extremely
dubious
  loom

  Chapter Three
  CA-RRALATION'So LOG-TO R tilde RDATE
7825.9:
  We've combed mission at Vestra, and the
  disaster control team hRather behind has begun
  helping the Vestrans baffle the effects of
  prohnged drought. Although the crisis is far
  from over, the aid provided by the Federaflon
  came in time to prevent wholesale death, and
  the prognosis is hopeful. The Enterprhe Is
  approaching Akkalla, where Science Ofl cer
  Spock and Lieutenant Chekov have already
  begun the evaluation of Dr. McPhUtips's
  ecological survey. Upon arrival, we'll
finish that
  task, and 1 tilde 11 pay a courtesy
call on Pubtican
  Abben Ffarkior, leader of the Akkallan
govern-
  ment. I anticipate no problems.
  "WE NEVER HEARD from your people. was Cynthia
  McPhillips's face filled the small
viewer over
  Uhura's communications console, resecting the
  austerity of someone accustomed to stress.
  So much for my optimistic log entry, Kirk
  thought. "You've been there at your lab the past
  two days?"
  "According to our usual schedule, yes. Besides,
  your people know how to reach us at the residential
  compound."
  "Mr. Spock had that information. I know
  Star6ffl and the Federation science people have
  had a hard time getting directly in touch with
  you. Do you think Spock could've had the same
  problem?"
  McPhillips shrugged. "Admiral, anything's
  possible here. We've got some real horror
stories to
  tell you. As for your people, your guess is as good as
  mine. his
  44
  ".1 don't plan to guess, doctor. I
plan to find
  out," Kirk said, more sharply. "Let us know if you
  hear anything. We'll be in touch. Kirk out."
  "How in hell could they have disappeared
  without a trace, Jim?" McCoy paced the
upper
  level of the starship's bridge, behind the command
  seat.
  Kirk turned first one way, then the other.
  "Bones, stay in one place."
  The surgeon halted, grasping the curved railing
  with both hands as he leaned forward. "Where I
  am isn't the problem. Where are Spock and
  Chekov?"
  "First, let's find out where they aren't. Uhura."
  "Still hailing on direct channel tilde 7, but
there's
  nothing not even static."
  "Sulu, do a full sensor sweep of the
planet.
  Look for anything that might fit the configuration
  of the survey shuttle."
  6'Sir, there's an awful lot of Akkalla
that's not
  land."
  "I'm aware of that. If they had to make a forced
  landing let's hope they were able to make it on
  terra firma. Search dry land first. Start with the
  main continent and move out in concentric circles
  from there."
  "And what else are you planning to do, Jim?"
  asked McCoy, hovering over Kirk's shoulder.
  "Make my courtesy call on the
Publican." Kirk
  swiveled out of his seat and moved to the
  turbolift. "Care to join me?"
  "I better go. You may need me to help cut
  through the diplomatic double-talk."
  "No interplanetary incidents, please,
doctor."
  Kirk and McCoy beamed down to the capital
  city of Tyvol, materialising at the top of
broad,
  grey marble steps leading to a stunningly graceful
  structure.
  "What's this?" said McCoy.
  "They call it the Cloistered Tower. It's the
  Publican's residence. It's also where they have
  official functions."
  "Like the White House or Buckingham
Palace."
  Kirk nodded. The building was a collection of
  bold and elegant curves, with delicate
spires and
  a domed center. Somehow, the Tower's architects
  had managed to construct

  an edifice that captured the sweep of waves and
  water that dominated their world, freezing the
  sea's restless power into a timeless tableau. Down
  the steps from where they stood, Kirk and McCoy
  saw a circular reflecting pool with three
fountains
  spouting streams from abstract sculptures of
  native sea life.
  The Tower was set on a high bluff, overlooking
  the sea itself. The starship officers walked to a
  stone wall at the edge of the plaza, gazing down
  at waves crashing on the shore hundreds of
feet
  below. From this promontory, one of two that
  jutted out into the ocean to protect the barber of
  Havensbay, they could see the entire city, a
place
  of curves, crescents, and spirals all the
sinuous
  contours of water in motion. The winding streets,
  the walls, the homes and larger buildings all
  seemed an extension of the element that reigned
  supreme on Akkalla and shaped the world in its
  image.
  Even Tyvol's geography was determined by
  water. Although a major river cut the city almost
  exactly in half, each half was further
subdivided by
  interlaced streams and channels cut by nature,
  and canals dug by human hands. The system of
  waterways sliced Tyvol into a hundred tiny
islands,
  with small ferries and thousands of bridges con-
  necting them.
  Across the harbor entrance from the Publican's
  Tower, on a matching neck of rocky land, stood
a
  sturdy fortress with stout walls and parapets
  manifesting might more than beauty, unlike the
  rest of the city.
  McCoy nodded toward it. "What's that?"
  "I guess that's the Paladins"
Citadel,
  headquarters for the continent's defense forces."
  They took a last panoramic look around at
  Tyvol's dignified elegance. If anything, the
city
  exceeded its reputation, but something bothered
  McCoy. After a moment, he knew what it
was.
  The slate-toned buildings, the ashen sky, the
grey
  sea with its clockwork waves Akkalla seemed
a
  monochrome world, a place of haunted, doleful
  spirit, and it gave him a chill in spite of the muggy
  air.
  "What is it, Bones?" asked Kirk, trying
to fathom
  his friend's melancholy turn of mood.
  McCoy didn't reply immediately. "I don't
know,"
  he finally said. "There's just something about this
  place. I hope

  we don't have to stay here very long. It'd be nice
  if they had Spockand Chekov waiting in
there for
  us."
  They walked to the glass front of the Cloistered
  Tower and found a pair of doors the height of
  four men. Silveruniformed Grolian Guards
  opened them and stopped Kirk and McCoy in the
  vaulted foyer.
  "State your business, please," said a guard with
  ornate medals and braid on his chest. He
held a
  palm-sized recording device up to Kirk's
lips.
  "Admiral James Kirk and Dr. Leonard
McCoy
  of the U.s.s. Enterprise, here to see the
Publican.
  We're expected."
  The small recording device emitted a pair
of
  beeps, it was evidently a two-way
communicator.
  Kirk wondered idly who'd given the signal of
  approval.
  "Follow me," said the ranking guard.
  Boot heels on parquet floors
sent sharp sounds
  echoing off the high stone ceilings as they made
  their way directly toward a reception chamber
at
  the back of the palace. The rear wall was nearly
  all glass, offering an airy vista of the sea.
  Handwoven rugs with stylized seascapes lay
  scattered on the floor between velvet-covered
  chairs and couches, and tapestries hung on the
  other walls, depicting images Kirk guessed
to be
  from Akkallan history and religion battles
at sea,
  both with other people and with monsters from
  the deep; ceremonies with heavenly rays of light
  piercing through a cloud cover that was evidently
  a fact of life here; great professionals winding
  through a city that looked much like the views of
  Tyvol Kirk had seen from the Tower plaza.
  "Please wait here," the guard said, then left
them
  alone.
  McCoy stood with hands clasped tensely behind
  his back. "So how do we greet this Publican?
Is he
  royalty or something?"
  Kirk shook his head. "They've got an
elective
  system here. The Publican is the head of the
  majority party of the Continental Synod that's
  what they call their parliament. The continent is
  divided into twelve provinces, and they elect
three
  representatives from each province. I think
they're
  called overlords."
  "So the Publican is one of these overlords?"
  "Mm-hmm. So we just treat him with the same
  respect we'd show to any head of state."

  "Good. I hate it when we have to bow and
  scrape."
  Kirk grinned. "Bowing and scraping were never
  your strong points, Bones."
  They turned at the sound of large wooden doors
  creaking open, and two Akkallans entered the
  reception chamber. One Kirk recognised as the
  Publican himself, Abben Ffaridor, an older
man
  with a short, portly build, salt-and
pepper hair,
  and a jowly face. He wore civilian clothing,
a
  simply cut black suit with a startling blue
  gemstone pendant on a silver chain. His
  companion was a woman, quite a bit younger but
  not youthful. She wore an embellished variation of
  the silver military tunic worn by the Tower
guards,
  with fine black filigree around the collar,
black
  braid across the shoulders, and red and blue
  medals on the right side of her chest. Her hair
  was lustrous and dark, swept low across one side
  of her forehead and pinned up at the back,
  framing a face that was aristocratic and striking,
  yet severe in the most martial sense.
  McCoy came up behind Kirk as the Publican
  greeted them warmly, first clasping Kirk's
hands,
  then McCoy's. "Welcome, welcome,
Admiral Kirk,
  Dr. McCoy. I'm Abben Ffaridor. This
is Ijenna
  Vvox, prime brigadier of all our
defense forces.
  Come, come, please sit." He guided them to a
  grouping of seats in a corner of the room, facing
  the seaview. Kirk and McCoy sat on a
couch,
  while the Publican stepped up onto a
thronelike
  chair on a slightly raised platform. His
adjutant
  pulled up a regular seat next to him.
  "On behalf of all Akkallans," Ffaridor
said
  cheerily, "I offer welcome to you and StarBeet.
  Now, as I understand it, your starship is visiting
  our world for, uh his
  "Servicing the Federation science outpost, Peer
  Ffaridor," Vvex prompted.
  He blinked quickly, as if hearing that
  information for the first time. "Ah, yes, yes, of
  course. I hope their work here proves
stimulating
  and useful to both the Science Council and
  Aklcalla. I studied science myself when I was
a
  boy. 111 never forget hours spent
exploring the
  wonders his
  "Sir," Vvox interrupted, "your guests might
be
  thirster'
  "Yes, yes, of course, of course. How
forgetful I
  can be. Can we offer you gentlemen some
  refreshment? The Tower confectioners make the
  finest pastries" he patted his

  ample midsection as proof "and we brew sweet
  tea from seaweeds, hmm?"
  Kirk found himself momentarily distracted,
  wondering who was really in charge here. The
  ostensible leader of the entire planet seemed
  directed by his distinctly nonsubservient
  subordinate. He made a mental note to get
  McCoy's impressions later. "Thank you,
sir, but
  I'm afraid our meeting has become more than
  just a simple courtesy calLike We have an
urgent
  matter to discuss with you."
  The Publican leaned forward. "I'm
sorry,
  Admiral. Why not get right to it then?"
  "Well, my ship was delayed on our voyage
to
  Akkalla. We bad to divert to deliver
humanitarian
  aid to a drougbtstricken planet. Two of my
  officers were sent ahead in a science scout ship.
  They were supposed to begin evaluating the
  science outpost's work, and we were to
  rendezvous with them as soon as we were able."
  "Was there some sort of problem?"
  "I'm afraid so. It seems they never
arrived."
  "Oh." Ffaridor seemed befuddled by the news,
  and the brigadier spoke quickly.
  "I can understand why you're troubled. But isn't
  it possible they met with difficulty out in space
  and never got anywhere near Akkalla?"
  "Well, it's possible," Kirk said
cautiously, "but
  not likely. We traveled to Akkalla by a
similar
  course and encountered no evidence that they'd
  had any problems en route. If they
had, we
  would've got some sort of distress call."
  "What if their radio wasn't working?" she said,
  eyes Bashing as if she considered it a challenge
to
  come up with irrefutable possibilities.
  "Their ship was also equipped with emergency
  message capsules."
  "What if the ship were destroyed before they
  had a chance to launch a message capsule?"
  Kirk spotted McCoy's growing annoyance with
  Vvox's negative attitude. "Then, in a
worst-case
  scenario, we would at least have found debris or
  radiation. No, it's more likely that they reached
  Akkalla and then ran into trouble here,
  something that prevented them from landing in
  Tyvol and getting in touch with Dr.
McPhillips at
  the science station."

  The Publican had been silent during the
exchange
  with Vvox, and Kirk was no longer sure whom to
  address.
  By the look on his face, Ffaridor was no more
  certain who should reply.
  Kirk saw the Akkallan leader glance at his
  military aide, and her eyes gave him a look
of
  warning in reply. Ffaridor cleared his throat.
  "This is distressing. I'm sure you'd like to find
  out the fate of your crew members as quickly as
  possible."
  "We're glad to hear you say that, sir,"
McCoy
  cut in, prompting a sharp glare from Kirk. But
  the doctor pushed on. "Because what we'd like to
  do is start a search for them right away, with your
  permission, of course. As a physician, I'm
most
  concerned about the condition of these two
  missing men possible injuries and so forth. I'm
  sure you can understand that."
  "Oh, I do, I do, Dr. McCoy. As for
your
  request, a search would be his
  "Impossible," Vvox said firmly, never once
  looking to her leader for permission to speak.
  "Isn't that right, Peer Ffaridor."
Her last words
  were a statement, not a question.
  "Yes, yes, I'm afraid that's true,
gentlemen. Our
  laws are quite strict in regard to foreign access
to
  the planet. Offworlders are permitted to set foot
  here only on a carefully restricted basis, like
your
  science team."
  "If there's to be a search," said Brigadier
Vvox,
  "we'll take care of it."
  McCoy raised a finger in protest. "But,
sir, we
  are ah ready his
  "What the doctor means," Kirk said,
interrupting
  hurriedly, "is that we're all ready to start the
  search. It may take you some time to mobilize the
  personnel to his
  "The Paladins are always mobilised,
Admiral,"
  Vvox answered in a prickly tone.
  "But with our starship technology was
McCoy
  began before Kirk could stop him.
  "We're quite able to search our own planet,
  doctor," Ffaridor said, sitting up stiffly.
  Kirk wanted to throttle McCoy on the
spot, but
  it wouldn't have been a dignified means of public
  discipline. And besides, it was too late to do any
  good. However

  unintentional, offence already been given, and
  taken. The conference ended on a lingering note
  of tension, although Vvox and Ffaridor gave
  assurances that Akkalla's Paladin force would do
  everything possible to find the Cousteau if it had
  indeed landed somewhere on the planet.
  McCoy managed to keep his mouth shut until
  he and Kirk had been escorted out of the
  Cloistered Tower. Once outside, Kirk had
the
  first word.
  "Trying for the Nobel and ZM-AGNEES peace
  prizes all at once, Bones?"
  "Dammit, Jim, I just didn't like their
attitudes."
  "Well, the score's even then. I don't think
they
  liked ours either." They started down the wide
  marble steps to the avenue snaking past the
  Tower compound fence. "You weren't really going
  to say "We're already using ship's sensors
to scan
  your entire planet," were you, McCoy?"
  McCoy's eyes crinkled, and he
half-prinned.
  "Guess that would've been pretty stupid, now
  wouldn't it?"
  "Yeah."
  "Then I certainly wasn't about to say that, km.
  I'm highly insulted that you could even think it."
  "Forgive me," Kirk said dryly.
  They reached the street, then looked back up at
  the Tower. A pair of Grolian Guards
halfway up
  the staircase looked back. "I guess they
really are
  paranoid about offworlders," McCoy said.
  "Well, how can you blame them when people
  come along and insult their technical
  capabilities?" Kirk said. He
Dipped open his
  communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise. Two
to beam
  up. Energize."
  Kirk heard McCoy's voice just as the
familiar
  humming began. "For once, I don't mind his
  was having my molecules scrambled," McCoy
  finished as they sparkled back into existence on
  the starship's transpOM-ER platform. "I
hope this
  first trip down there is our last."
  "Me too but I wouldn't bet on it." Kirk
  nodded an acknowledgment to the transporter
  technician as he and McCoy exited.
"Y'know, I
  wanted you with me for reasons other than your
  renowned diplomatic expertise."

  "Flattery...."
  "As you're so fond of claiming, you are a
doctor,
  Doctor."
  "Nobody was sick."
  "Psychological evaluation what did
you think of
  the Publican and the brigadier?"
  McCoy's brows jiggled. "Well, it was tough
to
  tell who was in charge."
  "You got that impression too."
  "Didn't take a genius to notice."
  "Can you give me thumbnail profiles on both
of
  them?"
  "I s'pose. Ffaridor seemed like he was being
  pushed against his nature. He seemed like a
fairly
  open, friendly sort but the kind who might not
  think twice about breaking his own rules if it'll
  please someone important."
  "What about that little throne he sat on?"
  "I wondered about that myself. It's a pretty
  standard symbol of power to have a ruler sit up
  where everybody else's gotta look up at him.
But
  it seemed out of place on a planet you
described
  as governed by elected representatives.
"Course,
  we don't know the history of the place . . . it
  might be perfectly normal for them."
  "But he went right for it, looked comfortable
  sitting up there."
  McCoy nodded. "Yeah. If a throne is an
idea
  somebody forced on him, the fact that he seems
  to have adjusted might prove meaningful."
  "In what way?"
  "Just that he's willing to accept the trappings of
  power, probably even like 'em, if they enhance his
  own position and even if they run counter to
  tradition."
  "Okay. What about Vvox?"
  McCoy snorted pensively. "Dangerous."
  Kirk nodded, then started to turn away.
  "Thanks, Bones."
  McCoy held Kirk's shoulder. "Jim, what
about
  Spock and Chekov? We don't find them, they
may
  not survive. If they are still alive, we don't
know
  what kind of conditions they're in."
  "Even if the Akkallans don't
give a damn, we're
  already looking as you were so ready to
  announce." They traded small, rueful
smiles. Then
  Kirk shrugged. "There's not

  much we could do on the surface that sensors
  can't do from orbit."
  "What if we find something and have to go
  down for a closer look?"
  "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
  "Let's hope we won't have to first start building
  the bridge."
  Between the cave's natural dampness and the
  wood-slat cots they slept on, Chekov
awoke stiff
  and chilled when he felt a hand poke his
  shoulder. He sat up and saw Ttrina standing over
  him and Spock, who was already awake. Her
  blond hair was matted and dirty, and Chekov
felt
  in serious need of a shower or bath himself.
  However, the gun muzzle she had pointed at his
  nose convinced him there were things that took
  precedence over cleanliness.
  "You, Chekov. Zzev wants to see you."
  As Chekov got to his feet, Spock stood
to go
  with him. Ttrina's weapon swung in his
direction.
  "Not you. You'll get your turn."
  Chekov winced as he took a step. Their hands
  remained bound behind their backs, and his
  shoulders ached. He meekly allowed the young
  woman to push him ahead as they crossed the
  main chamber to a branch passage. Then he
  stopped short, feeling acutely
claustrophobic.
  He'd actually grown accustomed to the large
  cavern, but the prospect of entering a space that
  looked distinctly cramped made him dig his
heels
  in.
  "Keep going," Ttrina ordered, pressing her
  weapon into the small of his back.
  "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay out
  here."
  "It's not all the same to me. Zzev wants you
in
  there so in you go."
  She planted a muddy boot on his rump and
  shoved him through the portal.
  He stumbled and pitched onto his knees,
  sucking in a sharp breath of pain as a jagged
  outcropping of rock stabbed his leg. By reflex,
he
  rebounded in the opposite direction but seized his
  panic and lowered himself gingerly to the floor.
  Ttrina placed a lantern by the opening, then
  pulled a blanket across like a heavy curtain,
  sealing Chekov inside.

  "If you try to come out before I come get you,
  you'll be shot on the spot," she called through the
  blanket.
  He settled back and sat cross-legged in a
tiny
  cell that would have seemed crowded for two.
  "Damn," he muttered. "As long as there're no
bats
  . . ."
  Zzov looked up from his cot in a private
corner
  of the grotto and motioned for Spock to sit on a
  supply container.
  "Drink?"
  "Unnecessary," Spock replied evenly.
  The Akkallan twisted off the cap of a plastic
  bottle and poured some amber liquid into a
  battered metal cup. He took a swig and
smacked
  his lips. "Good stuff. You sure?"
  "Quite sure."
  "You haven't had anything to drink all day. I
  don't want to be accused of torturing you."
  "Vulcans are capable of going without food and
  drink for extended periods. And sensory
  deprivation could be construed as torture."
  "Hmm?"
  "How long do you intend to keep Lieutenant
  Chekov in your isolation cell?"
  "Oh, that. You misunderstand, Mr. Spock.
  That's not for sensory deprivation or any such
  diabolical purpose. He's been questioned
several
  times today. And I must tell you, he's confessed
to
  a series of crimes against the people of Akkalla."
  Spock betrayed not even a glimmer of concern.
  "I don't believe you."
  "Oh, I have the signed confession to prove it."
  He reached under his cot and held out a piece of
  paper printed out by a small hand-held computer.
  At the bottom were words penned in a shaky
  scrawl: Pavel Illy tilde child Chekov.
  Spock knew Chekov's middle name was
  Andreivich. The handwriting appeared to be
  Chekov's, but the science officer assumed the
  incorrect middle name to be a signal. He
decided
  to keep the code private, rather than risk
reprisals
  against Chekov. "The fact remains, I do not
  believe this to be an authentic
  confession especially since we have committed
  no crimes against your people or planet."
  "Very well. We'll have Chekov tell you himself
  later."

  "You will fare no better questioning me."
  "Oh, I know that. Never met a Vulcan, but
I
  know enough about them. We're not even going
  to bother questioning you. But maybe you'd like
  to ask me some questions"
  "As a matter of fact, I would. What does the
  Cape Alliance stand for?"
  "A broad question, Spock. Let's see . . .
where
  to begin. One of our great statesmen once said,
  'What good is order without freedom, freedom
  without truth?"' That's what we stand for truth,
  above all else, then freedom, and finally order,
in
  that order."
  "A worthy credo, Zzev, but do worthy ends
  justify all means to reach them?"
  "Since you're asking me that question, I take it
  you don't believe they do."
  "No, I do not. Vulcan society is based
on beliefs
  which are logical and therefore beneficial to the
  greatest number of a collective group. Standards
  of order must be upheld, since standards give a
  society the structural framework it needs to
  function."
  "Oh, I agree," said Zzev, waving his hands
in
  earnest arcs. "But what do you do when the
  structure is rotter to its core? Do
you observe
  standards just to be polite" he affected
  upper-crust airs "Oh, do excuse me. So
sorry we
  had to cancel civil liberties. Do join us for
lunch,
  though." He puckered his lips and made a rude
  noise. "Or do you shatter those standards when
  they threaten to crush truth and freedom?"
  Spockraised an eyebrow in thought.
  "Destruction may be beneficial if its
purpose is to
  clear the path for a new and better social order.
  But history offers exhaustive evidence that
  revolutionaries often fail because they have no
  effective strategies for constructing a viable
  replacement for that which they have destroyed.
  Should you succeed, Zzov, how will history judge
  you?"
  Their intellectual duel was interrupted by shouts
  echoing down from the cave's main entry. Ttrina
  ran in from outside, sweat pouring off her face,
  chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
  The other guerrillas gathered around her.
  "What's wrong?" Zzev said.

  "Paladins," Ttrina gasped.
  "Where?"
  "Went up . . . to the observation ledge . . ."
She
  threw her head back and panted for a few
  seconds. "Saw them land on the north beach."
  "That's it," Zzev called. "Let's break.
Travel light."
  "What would they do if they caught you?" Spock
  asked.
  "Best case," Zzev said, "throw us in prison
  without a trial."
  "Worst case?"
  "Kill us on the spot."
  The Enterprise had been in orbit around
Akkalla
  for twelve hours, with no word yet forthcoming
  from the planetary government on the fate of the
  Cousteau and its missing crew. But Kirk withheld
  any judgments on how cooperative the
Akkallans
  were being, since the starship's own scans hadn't
  turned up anything either. Prickly and
xenophobic
  though they might be, the Akkallans had
promised
  a thorough search, and it wasn't unreasonable that
  a half-day's efforts might fail to yield
results worth
  reporting. Besides, protocol required that he
give
  the Publican a chance to display his good will.
  But, as far as James Kirk was concerned,
  protocol would only stretch so far. Twelve
hours,
  frankly, wasn't that long for his men to be
missing.
  If they'd been able to survive a crash landing,
then
  they were probably all right. That being the case,
  Kirk was confident they'd find their way out or be
  found long before their situation became critical.
  After all, Akkalla wasn't an inhospitable
planet.
  But the moment he surmised the local
  government wasn't doing its damnedest to find his
  men or if the time they were missing stretched
  much past a day he'd find a way to kiss
protocol
  good-bye.
  "Readily Red" is what Sulu had playfully
called
  Seena Maybri in the days since Admiral
Kirk had
  been forced to alter the Akkallan assignment. The
  young Erithian lieutenant had spent all her
  subsequent waking hours in selfimposed
scholarly
  seclusion, and when Sulu had gently suggested she
  was overdoing it, she'd parried his concern

  with defensive mutterings about the need to know
  everything ever written on marine ecology. And
  her heatsensitive skin had darkened to its most
  stressed hue.
  Still later, when the ache in her eyeballs cried
  out for a break, she found herself wishing Sulu
  would appear at her door. He didn't. And when
  her message on his computer channel also went
  unanswered, she was certain she must have
  offended him. So she painted her natural shyness
  with a heavy coat of sociable resolve and went
  looking for him.
  She found him diving off the three-meter
board
  into the ship's swimming pool, and she laughed at
  his ungainly form. She tried to stifle herself, but
  by the time he surfaced and saw her, she was still
  in the fmal stage of a resigned snicker.
  "What's so funny?" he called above the
splashing
  of a small gang of crew members horsing around
  at the shallow end. He paddled over to the side
  where Maybri stood.
  "Just that I never pictured you being clumsy,
  Sulu. It's so refreshing."
  "So's this." And he sent a handful of water in
  her direction. She dodged, unsuccessfully.
"I never
  said I swam for anything other than fun."
  "Good thing!" She braced for another splash. He
  faked she flinched they both laughed.
  "Even if it is at my expense, it's good
to see you
  smiling about something, Seena." He hauled
  himself up on the deck and wrapped a towel
  around his shoulders.
  "I thought you were mad at me," she said,
  shading just a bit. "When you didn't
call me
  back his
  "Sorry about that, but I decided you needed to
  snap yourself out of it. And I knew I'd hear from
  you when you ran out of chocolate."
  With a flare of mock anger, she poked him in
  the ribs. "Well, you were right. About both. were
  you going to be swimming for a while?"
  "Yeah."
  "Good. Let me change, and I'll join you."
  Sulu's wide grin was the only reply he could
  muster before the intercom whistled and Uhura's
  voice called Maybri's name. She hurried
to the
  comm panel on the wall. "Maybri here."

  "Report to the transporter room in twenty
minutes,
  lieutenant. You're joining the party beaming down
to
  the science outpost. his
  "It's done," Cynthia McPhillips
announced. In
  her mitted hands, she held up a baking tray
full of
  brownies, fresh from the oven in the science lab
  kitchen.
  Enzo Piretti probed the crust with a tentative
  finger. "Too hot. This is weird, Cindy.
Kirk and his
  people are coming down here any minute, and
  you're cooking."
  Sly set the pan down and started slicing rows of
  perfect squares. "I get nervous, I cook.
You get
  nervous, Enzo, you sleep. To each his own."
  "And Naw never gets nervous," Piretti said
as
  the placid blue-green Rannican sat on a
stool,
  batting his amber eyes innocently.
  "But Naw pleasures when companions grow
  nervous. Enzo sleeps, Naw pleasures in
quiet.
  Cindy cooks, Naw pleasures in food.
Superior to
  compu tilde ooking."
  "Thanks," McPhillips said. "I think."
She
  extracted three cake cubes and offered
them to
  her co-workers.
  Naw-Rocki popped one in his mouth.
  "Fortuitous that Rannicans do not metabolise
  cake. Pleasurable taste does not therefore lead
to
  pot belly." He slid a downy hand across his
  slender midriff.
  "To whose pot are you referring?" Piretti huffed.
  McPhillips took the last square. "Hey,
if the
  physique fits his
  Her jibe was cut short by the beckoning tone of
  the communications screen, and McPhillips
  answered with a mouthful of crumbs. "Dr.
  McPhillips here."
  "This is Enterprise. We're ready to beam down
  and start the evaluation. Are you all set?"
  "Come on down, Admiral."
  "On our way. Kirk out. his
  She turned to find, once again, that her
  colleagues had targeted her with imploring
looks.
  Well, Naw-Rocki's was imploring; Enzo's

  frankly challenging.
  "What is with you two?"
  "Oh, you know damn well," Piretti said.
  "Damn well," Naw-Rocki echoed,
eliciting
  double-takes from both his friends.

  McPhillips made a disgusted face. "He
didn't
  talk like that till he met you, Piretti."
  "Answer the question."
  "You didn't ask one."
  Piretti glared. "Are you or are you not going to
  tell Kirk about the new life form?"
  "Come on, Enzo," she protested. "We're not
  absolutely sure his
  "We would be if the damn Akkallan
  government let us do our jobs. Are you gonna
tell
  Kirk that?"
  "Yeah, yeah, we'll tell "em everything,"
  McPhillips yelled, giving in just as they heard
the
  sound of a transporter beam in the main lab area
  Kirk's first sight as he re-formed in the
  Akkallan lab was Dr. Cynthia
McPhillips, wearing
  a tattered apron and oven mitts and holding a
  baking pan. The scientist sensed his surprise and
  blushed slightly.
  "We knew you were coming, so I baked a cake?"
  she offered. She held the pan out. Kirk,
Maybri,
  and McCoy all helped themselves while
  murmuring thanks.
  "You bake great bribery," McCoy said as he
  chewed.
  Cindy McPhillips laughed, put the pan
down,
  and took off her apron. "Not my intention."
  "Leonard McCoy, ma'am. Chief
surgeon."
  McPhillips shook his outstretched hand. "Dr.
  McCoy."
  "This is Lieutenant Seena Maybri, our
ecology
  specialist," said Kirk. "She's here to help
me ask
  the right questions."
  Maybri shook hands with
McPhillips. "I've read
  your journal reports, Dr. McPhillips.
You do
  impressive work."
  "Well, I don't do it alone. My
co-researchers,
  Doctors Enzo Piretti and Naw-Rocki."
With
  greetings out of the way, McPhiUips ushered the
  group to a conference table near the bay window
  with its ocean view. The cake came with them,
  along with pots of coffee and tea.
  "Dr. McPhillips is too modest to say it
outright,"
  Piretti said, "but we've done some pretty
  important work here."
  "That's what we came to judge," Kirk said.
  "Well," Piretti countered, "what we've
got for
  you isn't exactly what we came here to study."
  McPhillips snapped him a look of
disapproval,
  but the white-haired man responded with a blithe
  smile.
  59
  "I think we've piqued the admiral's
curiosity,
  boss."
  "Would anybody care to elaborate?" McCoy
  pitched in.
  "I guess that would be me," McPhillips said.
Her
  tone made it clear she would have chosen another
  method of introducing the subject. "Well, as
you
  know, we came here to study the
  interrelationships of life and the environment.
  Akkalla's an unusual world in its ratio of
land to
  water. And it's no easy task to study the
deepest
  regions of major oceans. Even on Earth,
we
  explored space regularly before we explored
our
  own seas from top to bottom."
  "I get the feeling," said Kirk, "that you're
beating
  around the bush."
  "You're right. The point is, it's not
unusual for
  marine environments to be relatively
unexplored,
  even on worlds with advanced technology. So
  oceans sometimes contain secrets and surprises
  long after the rest of a planet's become as boring
  as your backyard."
  "What secret have you stumbled on?"
  Piretti picked his teeth with a fingernail.
"New
  life."
  "Enzo." McPhillips banged her fist on the
table.
  "New life?" Maybri asked. "You found a
new life
  form? Totally new?"
  McPhillips nodded solemnly. "We're
pretty sure,
  yeah."
  Kirk opened his hands, appealing for
  clarification. "Could you be a little more specific?"
  "Okay," McPhillips said. "We've got
good
  evidence of a creature now living in Akkallan
  seas a creature that was unknown before,
  according to local scientific records."
  "Evidence?" McCoy echoed. "Like a
specimen?"
  McPhillips shook her head. "Not that good.
  Some sightings in murky water his
  "And bones also do we have," Naw-Rocki added
  helpfully.
  Kirk glanced back to the science team leader.
  "Fossils?"
  "They're not old enough to be fossils," she said.
  "How old are they?" said McCoy.
  "From an animal dead within the last ten years."
  "Not to denigrate your work," Kirk said
  carefully, "but part of our mission and yours, I'd
  imagine is to seek out new life forms."
  "I'm aware of that," McPhillips said.

  "Then why is this particular life form such a big
  deal?" asked McCoy.
  "What might've been merely interesting became
  a lot more than that when we took our findings to
  the Akkallans."
  "What happened?" asked Kirk.
  "Well, the Akkallan government reacted to our
  revelation by get this rescinding our permit
to
  search the area where we found the bones."
  The starship officers reacted with genuine
  surprise and concern. Maybri spoke up first.
  "What about the native scientists? They
  must'vebeen interested his
  McPhillips shrugged. "Never got a chance to
  find out. As you already know, the Akkallans
  don't run the most open society in the
galaxy. We
  were aware of that before we came. But we didn't
  know they could turn positively paranoid about
  offworlders even Federation reps."
  "When we first got here," Piretti said, "we were
  allowed to meet with local scientists, but only
if
  we gave the Science Magister's office a
detailed
  discussion agenda first. And there was a
  government guy at every meeting."
  "Every meeting," McPhillips said in disgust.
"All
  three of 'em. But even with those restrictions, I
  really felt like we were building a professional
  rapport with Llissa Kkayn. She's
the head of the
  Akkallan Collegium."
  "What's that?" asked McCoy.
  "The planet's major university and science and
  research center, here in Tyvol."
  Kirk tapped a finger on the tabletop. "When was
  the last meeting?"
  "Eight months ago," McPhillips said.
  "Eight months? What happened?"
  "Right after we found the bones, we made that
  the A number one topic on our next agenda and
  all of a sudden we couldn't get another meeting
  okayed."
  Kirk rolled his chair back and paced to the
  window. "I don't get it. How come you never
told
  the Federation science office?"
  "Not permission," Naw-Rocki said softly.
  Piretti expanded on that for the benefit of their
  visitors who might not be familiar with
Rannican
  syntax. "All our

  messages had to be submitted in writing to the
  government, and they transmitted what they
felt
  like approving. They didn't like it" he made a
  slashing motion with his hand "out it went. It
  got to be pretty obvious we'd have to wait for
our
  evaluation visit to let anybody know what's
been
  going on."
  Suddenly, the bay window shattered as a small
  object crashed through it. Kirk reflexively
spun
  away, his hands coming up to protect his face. As
  he fell, the object hit the floor and burst
into
  flame, spewing a burning stream of liquid across
  the lab. Everyone scattered. The three
scientists
  attacked the flames with chemical extinguishers
  and an area rug to smother the main fire. McCoy
  and Maybri got out of the way and went to help
  Kirk. Within a minute, the chemical spray had
  doused the flames, leaving an eyeburning mist in
  the air, mixing with the acrid smell of smoke.
  Piretti turned the ventilation fans to their
  emergency setting, and the fumes were
visibly
  vacuumed from the room.
  McCoy helped Kirk to a chair. "You all
right,
  Jim?"
  Kirk brushed shards of window out of his hair
  and clothing. The safety glass material bad
  splintered into harmless, round edged pieces.
  "Yeah, Bones. Fine. You and Maybri?"
  "We're okay."
  "Anyone hurt?" asked McPhillips.
  "No," said Kirk. "What the hell was that all
  about?"
  "That's the next part of the story," McPhillips
  said. "We're not very popular around here. For
  some reason, the Akkallan scientists and
students
  at the Collegium all think we're part of some
  government conspiracy working against them."
  "That's ridiculous," McCoy snapped. "You
just
  got through telling us the government's been
  harassing you almost since the day you got here.
  Don't the scientists at the Collegium know
that?"
  McPhillips's fingers balled into fists of
  frustration, and she shook them in the air. "They
  don't trust their own government, but it's their
  only source of information. They only know what
  the Cloistered Tower wants them to know. The
  scientists and students didn't like their government
  to begin with."

  "Which should've made you and the Collegium
  natural allies," Kirk said as they returned
to the
  table.
  "Right. But the government couldn't allow that,
  so they planted the seeds that sprouted into this."
  McPhillips gestured at the broken window and
  fire damage.
  "The scientists did this?" said Maybri.
  McPhillips nodded, her anger draining to
  sadness. "The government's done a great job
  convincing Akkalla's scientists and students that
  we're real bad guys."
  Maybri shook her head. "Why would they
  believe anything coming from the government?"
  "That's the beauty of it," McPhillips
continued.
  "They control every avenue of information.
  They've got all sorts of subtle ways of
  manipulating what goes on here. And what're
we
  going to do about it, three little scientists?"
  "But what about direct contacts with the people
  at the Collegium?" asked Maybri.
"Skirting the
  censorship and the government-controlled media."
  "We tried that," Piretti said. "Once. We
  arranged a secret meeting with a couple of
  professors from the Collegium. Somehow, the
  Grolian Guards found out and arrested the
  Akkallans. Naturally, the scientists were
told we
  tipped off the Guard, and they blamed us for the
  whole fiasco. They never trusted us again, and
  we've been under surveillance ever since."
  McPhillips managed a short ironic
laugh. "Yeah,
  Hhayd tells us it's for our own protection.
  Obviously, as you've seen for yourself, protection
  can be a selective thing."
  "Who's Hhayd?" Kirk asked.
  Piretti made a rude noise.
"Vice Brigadier
  Rrelin Hhayd, commandant of the Grolian
  Guard."
  "What's the Grolian Guard?" said McCoy.
  "The elite batallion of the Akkallan
defense
  forces. They police the capital city, they
guard the
  Cloistered Tower and the Publican, and they
  handle special missions anywhere on the planet.
  The Paladins are the guys who do the dirty work.
  What was the old term? The G.l. Joe's."
  "We didn't meet this Commandant Hhayd,"
Kirk
  said. "We thought Brigadier Vvox was in charge
  of the defense forces."
  "She is," McPhillips said. "She's the
  highest-ranking military officer, and Hhayd is
next
  in line. She's his superi

  or, but they're pretty close from what we were
  able to figure out."
  Piretti shook his head. "For my money,
Hhayd's
  the real viper. Vvoxhas to mix with the
politicians.
  She strikes me as a bit of a politician
herself."
  "And Hhayd?" Kirk asked.
  "Military all the way," said Piretti.
"We've seen
  them both at receptions at the Tower. He
scares
  me, Admiral Kirk. I hope you don't have
to do
  any business with him while you're here."
  "Admiral," Lieutenant Maybri said
softly, "I'm
  very curious about something."
  "What part of this convoluted mess?"
  "The original part, sir. The new life form.
May
  I ask a question?"
  "You're the ecology expert. Go ahead."
  She turned to the scientists. "Do you have any
  idea why the government reacted so negatively
  when you presented your findings?"
  McPhillips let out a frustrated breath.
"Y'know,
  that's a tough question to answer. They clamped
  down so completely, once we brought it up, we
  could hardly make inquiries, much less get
  information. Something about this mysterious life
  form scared them."
  Maybri wrinkled her nose quizzically.
"Scared?
  I don't understand. were they stunned or
  surprised?"
  "As a matter of fact, no. I can't pin this
down
  for sure, but I'd say what we were telling them
  wasn't news. Not to them anyway. But it sure
as
  hell made them nervous. And that's when we
  found ourselves locked in a box."
  Kirk stroked his chin. "I wonder why?"
  "So do we," said McPhillips. "We want
to find
  out, but we need your help, Admiral."
  "I'm not sure what I can do."
  "We're just three inconsequential civilian
  scientists. You're a military
representative of
  Starfleet. You've got the Enterprise
to back you
  up his
  Kirk waved a cautionary hand. "Hold on,
Dr.
  McPhillips. The Enterprise isn't a big
stick to
  persuade authoritarian governments to see things
  our way. Maybe you didn't have the free hand you
  would've liked here, but this is their planet. And
  they can run it any way they choose. Sounds to

  me like they could've done away with you if
  they'd really wanted to. But you're all still in one
  piece his
  "Admiral, please," McPhillips said.
"You have to
  help us. We've got to know what they don't
want
  us to know. They're keeping a secret and the
  way they're keeping it, I'm convinced it's a
dirty
  one."
  "Doctor, I'm as curious as you are, but
I've got
  two missing officers to worry about.
Until I know
  what happened to them, I have to rely on the
  good will of the Akkallan government. I'm not
  about to offend them."
  "Admiral Kirk was McPhillips's tone
skidded
  toward desperation, Kirk's toward impatience.
  "I'm sorry, doctor. Once my officers
are
  accounted for, I'll consider your request his
  "Consider it?"
  was but I don't want to mislead you. My
  inclination is to pack you up and get the hell
  offAkkalla. My orders preclude meddling in
the
  governmental affairs of Federation planets."
He
  stood, making it clear he considered the argument
  near us end.
  But McPhillips wasn't ready to surrender.
She
  stalked around the table and planted herself
  toe-to-toe with Kirk. "Even if one of those
planets
  is hiding some deep dark secret and
interfering
  with an accredited scientific mission?"
  Kirk couldn't avoid looking into her flashing
  eyes. He almost yelled but caught himself.
  Instead, his voice was deliberately soft. "If
we had
  more proof, maybe I could do something. But we
  don't, and the Akkallan government isn't
likely to
  let us get it. For now, would you please give
  Lieutenant Maybri your records so she can
start
  the evaluation?"
  McPhillips swallowed her anger. "Of
course,"
  she said curtly.
  "You know the procedure, doctor," Kirk said.
  "First she'll review your data, then follow up
with
  interviews of staff."
  The scientist nodded. "Enzo, do you have the
  records?"
  Piretti handed a box of computer cassettes
to
  Maybri. Kirk took out his
communicator and
  Dipped it open as McCoy and Maybri took
their
  places next to him. McPhillips and her people
  backed out of beaming range.

  "Kirk to Enterprise. Transporter room,
stand by.
  Dr. McPhillips, please try to stay out of
trouble
  just a little longer."
  "We'll do our best," she replied in an icy
  monotone.
  As soon as they solidified in the transporter
  chamber, McCoy started in. "Jim, don't you
think
  you were a little rough on McPhillips? Since when
  do you quote orders from on high?,"
  Kirk whirled on his chief surgeon. "Since
Spock
  and Chekov are missing on a planet run by a
  government that gets more distasteful by the
  minute that's since when. We've got enough to
  worry about without provoking the Akkallans into
  being even less cooperative than they
already are."
  Then he gave Maybri a sharp glance. "And
don't
  you start, lieutenant. I have my orders, and
you've
  got yours. Get to work on that evaluation. I
don't
  want to stay here a minute longer than is
  absolutely necessary."
  "Yes, sir," she said in a tiny voice, then
scuttled
  out of the transporter room. McCoy and Kirk
  followed. The doctor's mouth opened to continue
  their verbal jousting and the whoop of the
  red-alert klaxon cut him off. Sulu's
voice echoed
  from speakers all over the ship as alarm beacons
  flashed.
  "Red alert this is not a drill Admiral to the
  bridge all hands to battle stations. Repeat this
is
  not a drill!"
  Kirk raced for the nearest turbolift.
Fortunately
  for McCoy, it wasn't far. He was
already two
  paces behind and managed to leap through the
  doors just as they hissed shut. "Bridge,"
Kirk said.
  As he tried to catch his breath, McCoy
noticed
  Kirk's heel bouncing with nervous energy, like a
  catapult winding up, and it propelled the
admiral
  onto the bridge the instant the lift snapped
open.
  But not a stride later, Kirk stopped short and
  McCoy Flowed into him. Their eyes were drawn
  right to the main viewscreen, where the cause of
  the red alert was obvious: a massive space
vessel
  surrounded by a swarm of tiny fighters, bearing
  directly at the Enterprise.
  Sulu vacated the center seat and moved back to
  the helm console as Kirk stepped onto the
bridge.
  "Mr. Sulu, report."

  "The ships are from Chorym his
  "That's the second planet in the
system."
  "Aye, sir. As soon as we spotted them
making
  orbital approach, we identified ourselves and
  requested their l.d. and purpose. They ignored
  our hails. I decided to go to red alert, just in
  case."
  "You made the right decision, Sulu."
  "Deflectors up, phasers armed and ready,
sir."
  Kirk sat back and crossed his legs. "Have they
  made any threatening moves?"
  "No, sir, except that they're on a collision
course."
  "All right. Stand by for evasive maneuvers.
  Anything, Uhura?"
  "Negative. Still hailing."
  Sulu peered at his computer screen as the
  seconds ticked by. "Impact in thirty
seconds . . .
  twenty-five . . . twenty . . ." His voice
tightened.
  "Stand by," Kirk said.
  The helmsman's shoulders abruptly relaxed.
  "They've altered course, sir."
  The giant Chorymi craft grew larger until
it
  filled the entire viewscreen' crossing the
starship's
  path and passing just below the Enterprise's belly.
  "I believe they used to call it playing
chicken,"
  Kirk said evenly. "Bring us around, Mr.
Sulu.
  Follow them." Kirk turned to Spock's
science
  station, where a fresh-faced, willowy ensign sat
on
  this shift. "Science Officer Greenbriar,
sensor
  readout on those ships."
  "That's Greenberger, sir." The young ensign
  brushed a blond strand of hair out of her eyes
  and punched up the data Kirk wanted. "The big
  ship is almost our size two hundred seventy
  meters long but a lot lighter, only thirty
  thousand tons. Impulse power only, capable of
  sublight speeds. Most of the inside was empty."
  "Empty?"
  "Yes, sir cargo hold of some kind,
I'd say."
  "Weapons?"
  "None that our sensors could detect. But the
  escort ships appear to be fighters, armed with
  photon cannons. By their size, I don't
think they
  could do any damage to us, Admiral."
  Kirk thumbed the intraship communications
  button on

  his armrest. "Cancel red alert secure from
  general quarters." He closed the channel, then
  leaned toward Sulu. "Keep our deflectors
up, Mr.
  Sulu. And keep phasers ready just in case."
  Apparently oblivious to the starship trailing
  behind, the Chorymi convoy continued
  descending. "They're entering the atmosphere,
sir,"
  Greenberger said as she tracked the mysterious
  ships on her viewer.
  "Level off our orbit, Sulu. Greenberger,
send a
  survey probe out. Let's see what they're
doing
  here."
  "Aye, sir." She punched in the proper firing
  code, and a dart launched from a hatch on the
  support pylon connecting the starship's
  engineering hull and primary saucer section. As it
  penetrated the fringes of Akkalla's
stratosphere,
  the probe's protective casing heated from pink
to
  fiery red, tracing a contrail across the sky.
Tiny
  retro-thrusters fired to slow it down, and the heat
  shielding split lengthwise, separating and falling
  away. Like a butterfly out of its cocoon, the
probe
  blossomed into operational configuration a
  small dish antenna unfurled from the rear, and a
  sensing grid poked out of the front.
  On the science station viewscreen, a scrambled
  image took shape. Ensign Greenberger
prodded
  her computer; the wavy interference lines cleared,
  and the probe presented a crisp view of the
  Chorymi ships as they spiraled ever lower,
  seemingly intent on diving into the
Akkallan sea.
  "Maximum magnification, ensign on main
  screen."
  The whole bridge crew could see what was
  happening now. At very nearly the last minute, the
  giant Chorymi vessel flattened its flight
path and
  skimmed barely above the waves.
  "Sir." Greenberger turned to draw Kirk's
  attention. "I've been trying to find some more data
  on that Chorymi ship, what it might be doing
  here. It's classified as a harvest ship."
  "What does it harvest?"
  "Akkalla's oceans. There's a treaty on
record
  between Chorym and Akkalla. It's a hundred
  years old. Chorym had the technology;
Akkalla
  had the food just swimming around in the water.
  So they signed a deal that let Chorymi ships do
  the harvest, and then they split the take with
  Akkalla."
  "Good work, ensign. But if there's a treaty, why
  the fighter escort?"
  68
  Before Greenberger could attempt an answer,
  Uhura pointed at the viewscreen. "Would you
  look at that!"
  The little tracking probe relayed perfect
pictures
  of the harvest ship hovering over an ocean
  beginning to churn with stormy violence.
  Greenberger's eyes were locked onto her sensor
  scope, and her fingers skipped across her com-
  puter panel in a frenzy of data measurement and
  recall.
  "This is amazing," she said. "That harvest ship is
  creating a hurricane right underneath it!"
  The viewscreen displayed the results a swirling
  wall of seawater surged up from the ocean as the
  harvest ship rocked above it, then tipped forward,
  opening its gaping jaws and swallowing great gulps
  of frothing white water.
  Kirk and his crew watched with grim fascination
  until Greenberger's voice pierced the silence.
  "Admiral . . . I'm reading surface
vessels coming
  into the area."
  On the viewscreen, the broadened image
  revealed a motley fleet of four
vessels charging
  toward danger beneath the voracious intruder.
  The boats were of different shapes and sizes, but
  none were large, and none were Akkallan
  military. The only identification was a banner
  flying from the stern of each. Greenberger
  manipulated the probe's camera to zoom in on
  one boat and keep it in sight long enough to get
  a good look at the flapping banner. The science
  officer snapped a still frame, then swiftly
  projected an enhanced and enlarged version on
  her console screen. Kirk twisted in his chair and
  peered at the picture. It featured a symbol
and
  some Akkallan writing.
  "Can you get a translation of that, Greenberger?"
  She entered the inquiry, and a second later the
  information rolled across the bottom of her
  readout screen. "Cape Alliance, sir. But
there's no
  information on what Cape Alliance is."
  Back on the main viewer, a pair of the
  diamond-shaped Chorymi escort fighters
broke
  formation and banked steeply, as if
to strafe the
  small boats. There was no longer any doubt that
  those boats were trying to disrupt the giant
  spacecraft's harvest run, darting perilously
close to
  the cyclonic waterspout being sucked up into the
  ship's mouth. But the diving fighters made only
a
  mock attack, roaring directly over the
struggling
  surface vessels without firing a shot. As for the
  boats, they appeared to be unarmed.

  "What the hell is going on down there?"
McCoy
  muttered. "Group suicide?"
  Kirk shook his head but kept watching the
  dance of death being played out far below the
  starship's orbit. "I don't think so,
Bones."
  After more chaotic zigzags, one of the boats
  reeled to port and made straight for the vortex.
  "If that's not suicide, Jim, what do you call
it?"
  Kirk held his breath and the harvest
ship's
  maw suddenly closed. The lumbering vessel
  lurched from its course and gained altitude as
  quickly as its bulk would allow. As soon as it
  began climbing, the surging storm abated, and the
  wall of water collapsed as if an internal
support
  had been yanked away. The escort fighters
joined
  their mother ship as it departed, and the four
  Akkallan boats circled like cautious beasts
until
  they were certain they'd chased the interlopers
  away. Finally, the boat crews could be seen
waving
  their arms and hugging each other in apparent
  victory celebration.
  Though the starship's bridge crew had no
  rooting interest in the blood sport they'd just
  witnessed, the aversion of what had seemed
  certain horrible destruction of the surface boats
  brought sighs of relief around the command deck.
  "I don't get it," Ensign Greenberger said,
sitting
  limply in her seat. "Why didn't those
Chorymi
  fighters shoot when they had the chance?"
  "And if there's a treaty," said McCoy, "what
was
  all the ruckus about to begin with?"
  "Uhura," Kirk said, "any communications at
all
  between the spacecraft and the surface boats?"
  She shook her head. "Negative, sir."
  "Mr. Sulu, what's the status of our search
for the
  Cous teau?"
  "Sorry, sir negative."
  Kirk stood and headed for the turbolift. "You
  have the cone, Sulu. Keep scanning for Spock
and
  Chekov. If you spot anything, I'll be in my
cabin."
  For the next hour, Kirk pored over sensor
data
  on their brush with the Chorymi fleet, reviewing
  technical specifics with Engineer Scott.
He kept
  hoping for an interruption from the bridge with
  some bit of good news. But nothing

  came. When he and Scotty were done, he went
  back up to the command deck.
  "Sir." Uhura turned as Kirk stepped out
of the
  turbolift. Her voice was businesslike, as
usual, but
  with an urgent undertone. "I'm picking up an
  Akkallan government broadcast, on one of their
  planetwide channels."
  "Let's see it, commander main screen."
  Uhura locked onto the transmission:
Publican
  Abben Ffaridor seated at a desk with the
planet's
  stylised wave symbol mounted on the wall behind
  him. Ffaridor was already in midsentence,
  speaking angrily: was continuing incidents of
  Chorymi treachery in total and arrogant
violation
  of sworn treaties. No, there's no
salt-washing the
  ugly face of deceit displayed so vividly
by our
  neighboring planet. We accuse them,
and they will
  be held accountable. But today, I'm forced to
  reveal the face of another enemy, one even
uglier
  because it comes from our midst. Until now, we
  have been unable to unmask this sinister force,
  the true instigators of the state of near war
  between your world and Chorym. But today, we
  will unmask this secret foe. They claim to be
  learned people, people of science and goodwill
  yet they disrupt accords that have enriched your
  world, made your lives better, and helped us
  acquire knowledge that can make us even more
  advanced than we are now. They would rob you
  of your future, if you give them the chance.
  They've already injected their poison into the
  Akkallan sea of life. With your help, we can
stop
  it before it reaches the heart. What do these
  demons call themselves? The Cape Alliance his
  The Publican paused for just a moment, long
  enough for the name to draw looks of recognition
  from Kirk and his bridge crew. Then the
Akkallan
  leader continued.
  was they steal the sacred name of the Cape of
  Judgment, where our legends tell us our
ancestors
  purged themselves of life's hardships and their
  own sins and returned to the soul of Mother Sea,
  to live in eternal peace. But this Cape
Alliance
  promises to bring you only eternal war. Your
  Publican and your Continental Synod will be
  working around the clock to solve this crisis that
  threatens our very existence. We ask for your
  trust your vigilance and your prayers. May the
  waves of Mother Sea be with you. Thank you, my
  fellow Akkallans."

  The Publican's face, fiercely sincere,
faded out,
  replaced by the government wave logo. Uhura
cut
  the signal, and the deceptively placid
blue-grey
  globe appeared onscreen again.
  "Well," McCoy said, "we know more about the
  Cape Alliance than we did two minutes
ago.
  Maybe we're finally getting somewhere."
  "But we still don't know exactly who they are,"
  Kirk pointed out. "And something tells me there's
  another side to this story maybe a lot more
  sides. Greenberger, where's the Chorymi convoy
  now?"
  "Continuing on a departure course, sir bound
  for home, I'd say."
  Kirk stood. "Uhura, contact the
Publican. Ask
  for permission no, tell them to expect me within
  the hour." He stepped up to the bridge's outer
  ring, and McCoy sidled over to join him at the
  turbolift. "Going somewhere, Bones?"
  "Can't let you get in the middle of an
  interplanetary war all by yourself."
  They entered the lift, and the doors snapped
  shut behind them.

  Chapter Four
  "LLISSA, WE CAN'T wait forever. You're
the
  preceptor you're the one who has to make the
  decision."
  Llissa Kkayn let the warm waveless
of
  Havensbay wash over her toes as she stood
  barefoot on the beach. She caught the imploring
  tone in Nniko's cadenced voice and turned to the
  old man, more as a courtesy than out of any real
  need for him to see her face. He was nearly blind
  now but never needed any assistance getting
  around on Freeland Island; after seventy years
  here, he knew every path and step. Llissa did it
  more for herself, to see his calm eyes and the
  kindly curl of his lips under a mustache that had
  somehow maintained the reddish hue of his youth,
  even as his wispy hair had gone almost entirely
to
  white.
  Nniko leaned on his walking stick, its tan
wood
  as gnarled and knobby as his fingers. "Don't
  worry you always make the right decision."
  She managed a tiny smile. "Is that what you
  always told Grandmar,
  "Mm-hmm. Eventually, she believed me. Too
  bad she wasted twenty years to decide that. If
you
  accept this fact of life today, it'll
only have taken
  you ten. You'll prove that your family's
improved
  from one generation to the next."
  "You're a wonderful liar, Nniko."
  "And you're a wonderful preceptor. Not as good
  as your grandmother, but there's hope. If you can
  overcome this hereditary predisposition toward
  doubting my word . . ."
  "Was she the best preceptor?"
  "She may very well have been. Kkirin Kkayn
is
  a name that won't be forgotten as long as there's
  a Collegium."

  Llissa's next question came out in a small,
  forlorn voice. "How can I follow that?"
  "Llissa Kkayn's a name that's sure to be
  remembered, too."
  "For what?"
  Nniko glared at her. "For what?" he
sputtered.
  "For being just a young girl and practically
  running the place while her grandmother was sick
  and dying. For being voted in as the youngest
  preceptor, with just a couple of dissenting votes.
  For going on to do a damn good job for many
  long years."
  "It's only been ten years, Nniko. How do
you
  know how long it'll be?"
  "I know. Remember?"
  "Tell me the truth. Are there still Guides who
  wish my father hadn't left Collegium?"
  Nniko made a distasteful face. "You know your
  father and I never liked each other."
  "Mm-hmm, but I never knew why. Do you still
  remember?" she asked with a sly smile.
  The old man arched his brows. "Everything I
  ever knew I still remember including every
  mischievous thing you ever did as a child. So
  watch your step, young lady. Your father could
  never accept rules. He had to do everything his
  own way, even if it meant trouble for everyone
  else. He never learned that great things can be
  accomplished by teamwork."
  "He teamed up with my mother to produce me.
  There must've been some good things about him,"
  Llissa teased.
  "Oh, sure. He was a brilliant
theoretician. He
  had an incredibly annoying way of making
intuitive
  leaps that turned out to be right."
  "So what was so terrible about that?"
  "He never wanted to do the dirty work to prove
  the theories. He disdainfully left that to the rest of
  us. And he couldn't teach. His way of doing things
  was his own peculiar brilliance, not something that
  could be passed along to bumpkin novi from the
  farming provinces. He had no patience for
  them not for you, either."
  Llissa nodded, a little sadly. "I remember
that.
  We weren't very close."
  "That wasn't your fault. You worshipped him, like
  any

  good daughter. And all he did was treat you like
  a rather slow novus who his
  "That was his nature, Nniko. You can't blame
  him for that."
  "No, maybe not. But I can blame him for
  deciding to leave so soon after your mother died.
  We lost so many to winter fever that year
we
  needed him. But Llaina was his only link to this
  place. Once she died, he had a huge fight
with
  your grandmother, and that was it."
  "I remember that, too," said Llissa. "I was
fifteen
  then, old enough to understand what was going
  on. Y'know, I don't even know if my father"...ness
still
  alive. Nobody's seen him in years. He
didn't keep
  in touch with anyone from those days."
  "So, my dear," Nniko said, "you can be damn
  sure nobody wishes he was preceptor instead
of
  you. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. Tell
  yourself you're doing a damn good job."
  Llissa crouched to address her reflection in a
  puddle left by the morning's ebbing tide. "You're
  doing a dame good job, Llissa Kkayn. That
crazy
  old Guide Nniko said so, and you know he's
  always right." She looked up for playful
approval.
  "How was that?"'?
  "Getting there. But you can excise the "crazy
old
  Guide" part. Now, I'm going back up to the
  library his
  "Is Eddran still there?" she asked, suddenly
  chilled by acute anxiety.
  "Of course he's still there. Eddran hasn't
budged
  since you went off to contemplate. He's been
  pontificating to anyone who'll listen on why we
  should sever our ties to the government, throw
  their funds back in the face of the Synod, and
join
  with the Cape Alliance."
  Llissa rolled her eyes. "Oh great. By the
time I
  get back up there, he'll probably have convinced
  the Guide Council to impeach me and toss me
to
  the waves."
  "Relax, Llissa. Nobody's listening
to Eddran . .
  . as usual."
  "Don't underestimate him," she said
seriously.
  "He really believes what he's been spouting
these
  last few weeks And there's nothing more
  dangerous than a true believer."
  "Spoken like your grandmother. And as we both
  know,

  she was never wrong," Nniko jolted. "I'm not
  worried about you being able to handle Eddran."
  Llissa stood on tiptoes to plant a peck
on the
  old man's cheek. ""Thanks for the vote of
  confidence."
  "You hurry back up now, Llissa. I'll
hold the
  fort till you do."
  She hugged him impulsively. "Thank you,
Nniko."
  "For what?"
  "For being my father after my own father left. I
  don't know if I could've stayed if not for you."
  "Oh, nonsense, Llissa. Your grandmother made
  you what you are. I just polished a bit around the
  edges. Now stop hugging me. People will think
  there's something going on between us. They'll say
  I waited until you started to look like your
  grandmother. You do, but you're much too young
  for me."
  "You really loved her, didn't you?" She
paused,
  then added, "Do you remember?"
  "Ofcourse I remember," he huffed, "and of
course
  I did."
  "How come you and Grandma never married?"
  "Because she didn't want to get married again
  after your grandfather died. They'd only been
  together a few years when he drowned in that
  storm. And I never wanted to marry at all.
My
  students were more than enough to keep me busy.
  Didn't need any offspring that came by my bad
  traits genetically. It was much more of a challenge
  spreading them through behavior modification."
  "Did my mother and father love each other?"
  "Yes, yes, I suppose they did. He had
quirky
  ways of showing it, but he genuinely missed her
  when she was gone. I think that's part of why
he
  left Collegium too many painful reminders."
  Llissa's brow furrowed. "Do you think I was a
  painful reminder?"
  Nniko mulled over the suggestion for a moment.
  "Very possibly. Don't think I don't know
what
  you're doing, asking all these imponderable
  questions. You're avoiding the issue at
  hand you've done it since you were a child. Now
  I'm off, and you better hurry up. And don't
worry
  so much about confronting Eddran and his allies.
  Your father loved confrontations too much, and
  you love them too

  little. In that one way, it wouldn't hurt you to be
  a little more like him."
  Llissa watched as he hobbled up the path. He
  moved reasonably well for a man approaching his
  century mark, and the cane gave him an oddly
  rhythmic three-legged gait.
  She bent to view her reflection in the tidal
pool
  again. The face looking back had plain,
pale
  features, stately at best, but not beautiful.
Except
  for her dusky eyes. They'd always been the
  feature she was most proud of, just ahead of the
  brown hair cascading halfway down her back.
She
  reached over her shoulder, andwitha few deft
  motions banded the hair into a ponytail,
  considering briefly the notion of having it cut into
  some fashionable style. Then she and the reflec-
  tion traded a smile trendiness was a pursuit
for
  the young. If she hadn't bothered with it in her
  own youth, approaching middle age was no time
  to change
  The preceptor of the Collegium has more urgent
  matters demanding her attention, she thought
  mockingly.
  But mocking or not, the statement was true
  enough. As she walked along the shore, the sun
  peeked through a crack in the clouds. The warmth
  felt good, and she let her shawl slip off her
  shoulders. But she still felt the weight of history
  and tradition that rested on those shoulders,
a
  weight grown heavier than she'd ever felt it
  before.
  Llissa sat on dry sand just beyond the tide's
  reach, in the spot that had been her favorite
since
  childhood. Across the bay, to the west, she could
  see the mouth of the Bboun, the great river that
  traversed nearly the entire width of the continent,
  starting in the Ppaidian Mountains as a streamlet
  suckled by runoff of winter snows, meandering
  down gentle valley slopes, nourished by tiny
  tributaries that gave it the power to carve the
  Central Gorge over millions of years, then
  broadening into a wide waterway splitting the
  capital city of Tyvol before pouring its water and
  silt into Havensbay and the sea.
  Tyvol itself had been founded as a trading port
  over two thousand years ago, the heart of
  Havencoast, the continent's most powerful
  political entity during the thousand-year stretch
  when the Akkallan mainland was a jumble of
  warring provinces. But the unnamed isle in the
  bay, with its lush shroud of forest and pristine
  sandy rim, had remained

  uninhabited until Collegium's founding five
  hundred years ago. Llissa marveled at the
courage
  of the first settlers; somehow, in a world where
  weapons and warriors ruled, the Twenty
Guides
  believed with religious fervor that knowiedge was
  the key to pulling their world out of its dark age
  of perpetual battle. It must have taken incredible
  audacity for that band of teachers to paddle out to
  the wilderness in the bay and build the first
  wooden school with their own hands.
  The mainland warlords, if they'd even taken
  notice probably reacted with derisive
laughter. As
  far as the warlord of Havencoast had been
  concerned, the isle in the bay had never been of
  any strategic importance he hadn't needed it
for
  defence, and its location within his heavily
  fortified barber meant no attacking force could
  ever take it and use it as a base so no arguments
  were raised when the Twenty declared the tablet
  of dirt and trees neutral land,
Freeland.
  In essence, the teachers had stolen an entire
  island out from under the warlord's nose. True, it
  was an island to which he'd never paid much
  attention. But to have accomplished that much
  was quite nearly a miracle. The founders however,
  didn't quit there. Was their next action part of a
  preordained plan, or did the Twenty simply
  improvise as they blundered blithely down their
  chosen path? To this day, Llissa had never been
  able to find out the truth. Scholars had argued for
  years about the motivation of the Twenty. But the
  simple facts were inarguable.
  Within months after chopping the first trees on
  their newly acquired island, the Guides
presented
  a pact to all the warlords, not only the lord of
  Havencoast. The Collegium Charter Compact
  stated that the isle of Freeland would maintain its
  neutrality in perpetuity, that the Collegium
would
  be open to students from any province, that all
  warlords would forswear any attempts to annex
  the educational institution and its land, and that
  scholars on their way to Collegium would
be
  guaranteed safe passage through hostile
territories.
  The astounding agreement approving Freeland's
  special status had been the first accord ever
  reached among all the quarrelsome chieftains on
  the mainland. Not that the fighting stopped. But
  the existence of the Collegium gave the provinces
  their first tangible, peaceful link, fortified as

  the centerof learning was permitted to survive and
  grow. At first, new buildings of wood were added,
  then sturdier structures made of stone ferried
  over from mainland quarries. Citizens of warring
  provinces came together in common pursuits on
  Freeland, and when scholars returned to
  homelands they carried their new cosmopolitan
  outlooks with them.
  Gradually, contacts between provinces shifted in
  nature. War gave way to trade, and
battlefields
  turned to farm fields. Within a century and a
half
  after the establishment of the Collegium, the
  warlords had signed the Declaration of
  Convergence and created the Continental Synod.
  A revolution started by an idealistic band who
  worshipped knowledge bad finally been
  completed.
  And the Collegium itself continued to grow,
  spreading across the original island and over to a
  pair of smaller patches of land off Freeland's
  northern shore. Other schools were founded on
  the continent, most by scholars who'd graduated
  from the Collegium to become Mission Guides
  devoted to serving people who couldn't come to
  Freeland. But everyone knew Collegium was the
  jewel, accepting only the brightest students of
all
  ages.
  Llissa had been born and raised here,
  wandering the stone halls first as a child at play.
  And right from the start, she'd been told about
  the heroes who built Collegium with strength of
  hands, dreams of hearts, and ideas of minds.
  Those pioneering Guides had been bold men and
  women. No maker what Nniko might say
to her,
  Llissa had a hard time thinking of herself as bold
  or courageous.
  Father always chided me for being a hothouse
  flower, absorbing knowledge from books, never
  facing the bruises that the real world had a way of
  inflicting the world outside the Collegium
campus.
  "Books are just lifeless theories," he'd
scold. "No
  bone to break, no blood to spill. No teeth
to bite, no
  taste or smell to truly saver. his
  Maybe he was right. Maybe I'm about to be
  tested really tested for the f rst time in my life .
.
  . theffrst time I've got to make survival
decisions . .
  . and maybe I'm going to fail like a scared
novas.
  She felt the short-lived sunshine fade as
  charcoalbottomed clouds scudded across the sky.
  Raindrops began

  falling, slowly enough to count each one as they
  touched her face like kisses. The rain was her
  signal: time to face the Council. Llissa
tugged her
  shawl up over her hair and turned away from the
  beach.
  The path led up a hillside and through the
  woods. By the time she reached the other side of
  the forest, the random droplets had resolved into
  a steady but fine drizzle. Pausing at the edge
of
  the woods, Llissa closed her eyes and held
her
  breath. Then she looked up at the weathered grey
  stone walls of the Collegium's main building
  looming berate her at the crest of the hill.
Lights
  glowed in almost every window, like eyes
  illuminated by the energy of creation. In every
  classroom, lecture hall, and laboratory,
the give
  and take of learning went on. Llissa wanted
to go
  into all those rooms, one by one, and bask in the
  warm, flowing tides of knowledge. But she
  couldn't not now. There was only one chamber
  to which she could go. They were waiting for her.
  The library stretched up four flights through the
  core of the building, but the conference room
was
  on the ground floor, directly opposite the
arched
  entry doors. Llissa walked briskly from the
woods
  to the building, shook the rain off her shawl, and
  stepped inside. Mma.i, a shyly pretty teen
with
  wild amber hair, took the preceptor's
damp outer
  clothing and held out her ceremonial red velvet
  cloak, trimmed with leather.
  Llissa shrugged into it, then managed an ironic
  halfsmile. "I don't suppose they all
got tired of
  waiting for me and left, did they?"
  Mma.i shook her head. "No."
  "I didn't think so." Llissa strode across the
  library rotunda, through patterns cast on the
blue
  carpet by the skylight high above. After hesitating
  a moment, her young attendant hurried to catch
  the preceptor's sleeve. Llissa stopped.
"What his
  she snapped.
  Mma.i's fingers recoiled as if the garment was
  aflame, and her eyelashes batted fearfully.
Llissa
  took the girl's hand in a reassuring gesture.
  "Sorry, Mma.i. I didn't mean to bite
your head
  off. Something on your mind?"
  "I know this isn't a good time to . . . to talk
to
  you about this."
  "About what?"

  "I found out . . . found out that you want me to
  be a Mission Guide," Mma.i whispered.
  "That's right. You'll be a good one."
  "But I don't want to go to some province on the
  other side of the world. I want to . . . to stay
here
  and help you."
  Llissa brushed the girds cheek. "You've been
  helping me for a long time now, almost since the
  day you came here. You were such a little girl
  then, and you could barely say two words in a
  row, you were so scared."
  "I've spent most of my life here.
Please don't
  send me away."
  "It's because you've spent most of your life here
  that you should go away, Mma.i. You've got to
  experience other places, other ways of life.
  Believe me I know what I'm talking about."
She
  tilted Mma.i's chin up and wiped a tear off the
  tip of the girl's nose. "We'll talk about it
later. I
  have to go face the beasts now."
  "About time," Eddran sniffed from the far end
  of the oval blond-wood table, where he perched
  with feet dangling and arms folded. He was a tiny
  man, barely up to chest level on an average
  person. His chin and nose both came to points,
  and Llissa was certain his teeth did, too, an
  opinion shared by others on the staff. But
  Eddran's mouth never opened wide enough to test
  the hypothesis. He never smiled, and when he
  spoke which was often his lips barely parted, as
  if he feared having the words tumble out before
  he could say them. As the other five Council
  members took their seats, Eddran remained
  balanced on the table's edge.
  "The world's unraveling, and you're communing
  with nature," he droned.
  "Eddran," said Nniko, not bothering to hide his
  annoyance, "stop playing gargoyle and sit in your
  chair like normal people."
  The little man dropped to the Door and whirled
  on Nniko. "Like normal people? And what is that
  supposed to signify? Stooping to insults about my
  deformity, old man?"
  "If you're referring to deformity of body, no.
If
  you're referring to deformity of mind,
affirmative,"
  Nniko replied, suddenly swinging his walking
stick
  up and smacking the table less than an inch from
  Eddran's whitened knuckles.
  Eddran yanked his hands back with an involuntary
  yelp

  and fell into his seat. There were snickers around
  the table, which Eddran answered with only a
  circuitous glare.
  Llissa idly wondered if Nniko's aim was
  accidental or intentional. Maybe the
old man
  could see better than anyone thought he could.
  She'd have to ask him later. She slipped into her
  own high-backed leather chair and glanced at the
  faces of her advisers. Each Guide wore a
different
  color cloak, signifying their various
departments.
  Ossage sat to her immediate right, a man a few
  years her senior with mottled skin and puffy
  eyelids that gave him the look of someone about
  to doze, Rraitine, a white-haired woman with
  bewitching green eyes and several chins; Nniko;
  Eddran; Ssuramaya, the only Council
member
  younger than Llissa herself, with the swarthy skin
  common to Akkallans from the southern desert
  province; and Ttindel, a corpulent man with
curly
  grey hair framing his fleshy face.
  Whatever their outward appearances, all had
  several things in common. They'd been Guides at
  the Collegium for at least a decade, during which
  time they'd proven to be superior teachers. And
  they'd all volunteered the considerable time
and
  energy needed to help the preceptor run the
  institution. They were among the finest minds on
  the planet. Even Eddran.
  "I wasn't communing with nature, Eddran,"
  Llissa said icily. "I was doing the same thing
you
  were all doing thinking about our situation. We
  have to reach a policy decision quickly." She
  gestured with an open hand. "What are your
  opinions?"
  "The broadcast didn't accuse us of any
collusion
  with the Cape Alliance," Rraitine said, her chins
  quivering.
  Ossage roused himself. "Implied," he
drawled.
  Ssuramaya jumped to her feet, dark eyes
  flashing. Her clipped accent made her words
  sound even more urgent. "That's not so. We
  maintain our distance from the Alliance, and we
  maintain our integrity. The people will know what
  we stand for."
  "We don't stand for anything." Eddran's voice
  dripped with carefully sculpted
contempt. "We sit
  and debate and the Publican tightens the rope
  around our necks."
  Ttindel ran stubby fingers through his curls.
  "Hate to agree with Eddran . . . worst
attack yet
  in today's speech. His 'learned people of
  science" damned close to adding,

  "Don't forget the folks at the
Collegium" only a
  matter of time until we're named."
  Nniko clenched his fists and bounced them on
  the table. "Do we have so little faith in the
  Akkallan people?" he rumbled. "We don't
agree
  with anything the Cape Alliance does. We keep
  saying so. Ttindel, Ossage do you really
believe
  they're not listening to us?"
  "Put it this way," Ttindel replied. "One
message
  from us, maybe a few people hear it. A deluge of
  propaganda from the government, everybody
  hears. Which do they remember?"
  "And what about the starship?" Eddran
  interjected, sharp chin jutting forward. "Could it
  be mere coincidence that a Starneet warship
  arrives just as the Publican starts the most
blatant
  crackdown in recent times? We're on the edge
of
  totalitarianism, and that starship is here to
  enforce it."
  Llissa jabbed the air in protest. "We
don't know
  that."
  "We can guess. Don't be so naive."
  "I'm not naive. I just don't happen to share
  every conspiracy theory you cook up, Eddran."
  "Not all conspiracies are theories," Ossage
said
  in his drowsy voice.
  Ssuramaya leaned forward again. "I propose that
  Llissa go to the Tower to meet with Ffaridor and
  explain our positions and our concerns. Then, if
  this keeps up, we'll know that this is one
  conspiracy that's real."
  "What a bold proposal," Eddran said
  sarcastically. "And I'll hand out sharp
implements
  so we can prepare to take our lives when they
  come to arrest us for being part of the Cape
  Alliance."
  Lips tightened into an angry line, Llissa
spoke
  in a low voice. "Let's vote on
Ssuramaya's
  proposal. All in favor his
  Four hands were raised: Llissa, Ssuramaya,
  Rraitine, and Nniko.
  "Approved," Llissa said, without much
  satisfaction. "I'll go now and report as
soon as I
  get back."
  Eddran snorted. "If we haven't been thrown
into
  prison by then. Or carried off by the political
  police from that starship."
  Ssuramaya whirled on the short man.
"We've
  handled our own Grolian Guards this long. We
  can handle a Starfleet starship, too."

  The gauzy curtains were fully drawn
back from
  the floor-to-ceiling windows, but thickening
  overcast outside dimmed the daylight, and
Llissa
  felt an oppressive gloom pervading the
room. By
  the slimmest of margins, she'd been handed a
  mandate for action. By nature, she was a
  conciliator but what if her audience with
  Publican Ffaridor became a confrontation?
And
  what if the Enterprise really had been summoned
  as a tool of enforcement? The Collegium already
  had sufficient enemies here on the ground.
  As her council of advisers gathered their papers
  in silence, Llissa hurried out of the chamber. In
  the solitude of the rotunda, she stopped. What
in
  the name of sanity is going on here"...And what
  makes me think I have any power to right it?
  Somehow, she had to believe in faith. But these
  days, faith was, at best, a life rope in the
middle
  of storm-tossed seas. And it was fraying
rapidly.
  Two columns of transporter energy took
  sparkling shape on the plaza outside the
  Cloistered Tower, forming into Admiral Kirk and
  Dr. McCoy. McCoy stepped toward the
Publican's
  palace, but Kirk took a deep breath of
salttanged
  sea air and drifted instead to the wall at the edge
  of the overlook. From this perch, he could see the
  bay spreading below, with fishing and cargo boats
  clustered around Tyvol's busy wharfs, while
other
  vessels lay at anchor offshore or sailed in
and out
  between craggy cliffs standing like sentinels on
  both sides of the harbor's narrow entry.
  "Doesn't this remind you of San
Francisco?"
  Kirk said, glancing up at the cloud-streaked
sky
  and feeling the damp breeze on his face. "The
  weather's even a little like the Bay area."
  McCoy's eyes narrowed. "You sound
homesick.
  Since when did you prefer the confines of
  Starfleet headquarters to being out in space with
  the Enterprise?"
  Kirk's brows arched defensively. "Who said
  anything about being homesick? Can't a place
  remind you of home without you actually wanting
  to be home?"
  "In certain circumstances, yeah. But I know you
  too well, Jim. And you've been mooning around
  for weeks."
  Indignant, Kirk stiffened. "I have not been
  mooning around, doctor. Let's go." With an
  impatient stride, Kirk

  led the way up the steps to the Tower's glass
  doors. The guards swung them open from inside.
  "State your business, please," said the senior
  guard, again holding the small
  recordingst-munications device up for Kirk to
  speak into.
  "Admiral Kirk and Dr. McCoy from the
starship
  Enterprise to see the Publican."
  A single extended buzz came out of the
  hand-held intercom, prompting a frown from the
  guard. He raised the communicator
to his own
  lips and pressed a button on its side.
  "Instructions, commandant?"
  The guard cocked his head, and Kirk noticed
  the Akkallan wore a tiny receiver in one ear.
  Whatever his commandant was telling him made
  the guard squirm for a heeling second. "Yes,
sir.
  Yes, sir. In the North Wing. Right away,
sir."
  The guard slipped the intercom into a pocket in
  his uniform jacket and turned to Kirk and
  McCoy. "The Publican is very busy. If
you wish to
  see him, you'll have to wait."
  "Fine, we'll wait," Kirk answered. "But
please
  make sure he and Brigadier Vvox know that
  we've got extremely urgent matters
to discuss with
  them."
  "I'll relay that message, sir." The senior
guard
  waved his partner over. Kirk didn't know the
  specifics of Akkallan uniform
markings, but it was
  clear the senior guard far outranked the other
  man. "North Terrace."
  The younger guard clicked his heels together,
  looked at McCoy and Kirk, and began walking
  without a word. The senior officer noticed that
  the men from the starship hadn't yet budged.
  "You'll please accompany trooper second."
  After a moment of grudging and calculated
  hesitation, Kirk and McCoy followed the guard
  down the broad hallway. Kirk noticed they were
  headed in the opposite direction from that taken
  on their first beam-down to the Tower, climbing
  a short flight of curved marble stairs with
  polished- brass banisters.
  At the top of the staircase, the passageway
  broadened into a window-enclosed veranda, with
  wicker seats scattered randomly.
  "You'll be summoned," the guard said. Then he
  spun with parade precision and went back down
  the steps.

  Kirk stood at the windows. The veranda jutted
  out past the edge of the cliff, offering a
  spectacular view of Havensbay
hundreds of feet
  below. McCoy came over and peered out
  cautiously.
  "I wouldn't recommend it for anybody with
  vertigo."
  Kirk ignored the quip. His attention was
focused
  on a small boat making its way directly
for the
  cliffs supporting the Cloistered Tower.
McCoy
  followed his line of sight; they could see a
figure
  in scarlet standing at the bow rail, almost like a
  figurehead on an ancient sailing vessel.
  "Another uninvited dinner guest?" McCoy
  muttered.
  Kirk shrugged. "Looks IL-KE they're
headed here."
  The figure in scarlet gazed up at the lofty
bluff
  as her pilot cut back on the engines and slowed
  the boat, aiming for the narrow docking slip.
  Llissa Kkayn felt extraordinarily
insignificant
  arriving at the Cloistered Tower from sea level,
a
  psychological detriment she definitely
didn't need.
  Her unbidden appearance at the Publican's
  doorstep was already more than sufficient to
  make her stomach flutter and her nerves
jangle.
  At times like this, she wished someone else was
  preceptor, leaving her to be a simple Guide
  responsible for her students and her classroom,
  and nothing more. To Llissa, the lure of
  Collegium life was the chance to charge over the
  horizons of knowledge, to learn what lay beyond
  and teach all of it to others. Political jousting
had
  never been among the things she enjoyed, neither
  with members of the Akkallan government nor
  with her fellow Guides.
  The ferry sidled up to the wharf as the pilot
  shut off the magnetic field generators powering
  the boat and tossed a mooring line around a
  piling. He cranked the line tighter, and the
boat's
  flank bumped gently against the
dockside padding.
  Llissa poised with one foot on the ferry's
gunwale.
  "I don't think I'll be too long."
  The Clot nodded, and Llissa stepped off the
  boat. She paused, listening to the rhythmic
  lapping of tide against hull. No matter what
got in
  its way, the sea kept rolling on. Water
seemed
  such an insubstantial thing. How foolish for
waves
  to keep battering against rock. Yet, eventually,
the
  sea would always win. Llissa would have to be like
  the sea.
  With a gradual tilt of her head, she surveyed
the
  sheer

  wall of rock rising three hundred feet above
her.
  The switch-back path that had been used for
  centuries was still visible, like an implausibly
long
  snake clinging to the cliffside.fortunately, there
  was a power lift now, creeping up the bluff
inside
  its skeletal steel scaffold.. But first
Llissa had to
  get past the guardhouse at the elevator's
base,
  where a trio of troopers lounged in distinctly
  cavalier poses. They snapped back
to military
  bearing as they saw her approach. Of all the
  Tower duty stations, this one was among the least
  demanding. Also the least supervised. And, Llissa
  figured, least likely to lead to promotion.
  The ranking guard, a broad man with a cropped
  mustache and a savage scar across his cheek,
  blocked her way. "Who are you, and what's your
  business at the Tower?" He held his
  communications intercom up, and she spoke into
  it.
  "Llissa Kkayn, preceptor of the
Collegium. I'm
  here to request an audience with Publican
  Ffaridor."
  "How longs it been?"'" McCoy
asked, slouched
  deep in the pillows of a wicker loveseat.
  Kirk shrugged. "Maybe an hour."
  "And they say doctors keep people waiting." At
  the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs,
  McCoy straightened. "About time."
  But instead of escorting them to see the
  Publican, the young guard deposited another
  supplicant the figure in scarlet they'd seen
on
  the bay ferry, who turned out to be a woman.
She
  swept the room with one quick look, then turned
  a withering stare at the trooper.
  "I thought you were taking me to see the
  Publican."
  "No, rna'am. Waiting area."
  "But they already had me in a waiting area."
  "At least this one's inside the Tower, ma'am."
  "Thank Mother Sea for small progr tilde
diseaness, is that
  it, troops or?" she snapped.
  "I guess so, ma'am. You'll be summoned."
With
  that, he made a hasty exit.
  "It looks like a seller's market," McCoy
said
  from behind her.
  The woman spun, dusky eyes flashing with
  surplus anger. In her leather-trimmed velvet
  cloak, she presented a regal image. "What
is that
  supposed to mean?"

  McCoy warmed up his easiest
  Georgia-gentleman smile. "Only one
Publican to
  go around, and lots of folks who want to see
"im,
  it would seem. I thought Akkalla didn't have
any
  royalty."
  "Hmm?" The comment, out of the blue,
  completely confused her.
  "Where I come from, people dressed in red
  velvet cloaks usually have some sort of inherited
  title, and lots of money."
  Her ire disarmed, she brushed the material with
  her finger, then released the throat clasp,
slipped
  the cloak off, and draped it over one arm. Her
  clothing underneath was simple and subdued, with
  just a splash of color added by a scarf tied at
her
  neck.
  "Sorry to disappoint you," she said. "Actually,
I
  do have an inherited title of sorts, but I'm
afraid
  it's not at all royal."
  "Doesn't really matter. What is your
title?"
  "Preceptor of the Collegium of Akkalla.
My
  name is Llissa Kkayn."
  Kirk had been hanging back, content to watch
  the McCoy charm work its magic. But the
  moment Llissa identified herself, he stepped
  forward. "The leader of the Collegium? We're
  very glad to meet you. We've got some
important
  things to discuss with you."
  Kirk's urgent tone drew a veil of caution
across
  her eyes. "And who are you?"
  Trying to reestablish the gentility Kirk had just
  shattered, McCoy answered first. "Leonard
  McCoy, chief surgeon, and this is Admiral
James
  T. Kirk. We're from the starship Enterprise.
his
  Llissa nodded. "Ahh, you're absolutely
right. We
  do have important things to discuss." She'd steeled
  herself for an expected confrontation with
  Ffaridor. Now that she was in the mood, why not
  test her mettle with these starship officers? "Why
  are you here to intimidate us?" Her voice was
  sharp and accusing.
  Kirk blinked in surprise. "Intimidate you?
What
  gave you that idea?"
  "Then why else would a starship be visiting
  Akkalla just when the government is cracking
  down on scientists and teachers and students?"
  "People who've committed their own sins should
  be

  careful before they throw baseless accusations at
  anyone else."
  "Sins? I don't know where you get your
  information, Admiral, but if you want to talk
  about baseless his
  "There's nothing baseless about it, preceptor.
  We were just witnesses to a completely
  unprovoked, violent attack by people from your
  Collegium his
  "We're students and teachers, not terrorists.
  We're not violent, and there's been plenty of
  provocation when it comes to his
  "Hold on just a minute, both of you," McCoy
  barked, loudly enough to stun the other two into
  silence.
  "You're with him," Llissa said. "Why should I
  listen to you?"
  "Because, my dear, we were gettin" along just
  fine before he got into the conversation. And," he
  continued with a side glance at Kirk, "speaking of
  renowned diplomatic expertise, Jim his
  "Bones," Kirk began warningly.
  "Begging the Admiral's pardon, Admiral,
sir."
  Kirk opened his hands in surrender for the time
  being.
  "Thank you," McCoy said. "Now,
we've
  obviously got a misunderstanding here. Also
  obviously, we both have grievances to take up
  with the Publican and his government. Anybody
  got any objections so far?" He looked from
face
  to face, getting only grim scowls in reply.
But that
  was better than open hostility, so he went on.
  "Good. Now and, Jim, don't you ever tell
Spock
  I said this but logically, this means we've
  probably got a common cause somewhere in all
  the name calling. As long as the Publican's got
us
  cooling our heels, let's take advantage
of the time.
  Hmm?"
  Llissa blew out a long breath to release
stress,
  while Kirk tugged at the bottom hem of his
tunic,
  straightening it. McCoy knew that to be among
  the ways his friend dissipated nervous tension.
  "That's more like it," McCoy said as he
took
  each one by an arm and steered them to seats
  near the windows. "Preceptor Kkayn, why
don't
  you go first. Why do you think the Enterprise is
  here to intimidate you?"
  Now that she had to form a reasonable
  statement backed with supportive facts,
Llissa was
  noticeably slow on the draw. She silently
cursed
  herself for not having an inargu

  able case at the tip of her tongue. feeder mind
the
  tip of my tongue how about anywhere in my stupid
  brain?
  "Well..." she began numbly, "it's
circumstantial,
  of course his
  Kirk barely raised his finger in debate, his
  mouth open as if to interrupt. McCoy cut him
off
  with a sharp stare. Llissa continued, slowly.
  "I don't know how much you know about us, but
  the Collegium is the finest educational institute
  on the planet. We don't take sides in
political
  disputes. The Colleyeaium's been carefully
neutral
  since it was founded five hundred years ago.
  When this continent was a collection of tiny
  principalities constantly at war with each other,
  Collegium was a bastion of peaceful learning and
  research. We're not rabble, but lately we're
being
  lumped in with rabble by the government. We're
  afraid the last vestiges of tree thought on
Akkalla
  are about to be snuffed out."
  Kirk lifted a tentative hand. "Can I ask
a
  question?"
  "Sure, Jim, as long as it's not makin'
accusations."
  Kirk nodded. "Does this have anything to do
  with the Publican's speech today?"
  "You heard it?"
  "Yes, we picked up the signal aboard my
ship."
  "Then you have some idea of what we're worried
  about."
  "Not exactly," McCoy said. "Are you part of the
  Cape Alliance?"
  Llissa flared. "No absolutely not! Why
does
  everyone think we're part of his
  "Whoa, sorry. I didn't mean to imply you were
  part of anything. We don't even know what the
  Cape Alliance is."
  "Although we did see them in action," Kirk
added.
  "What do you mean?"
  "We watched them disrupt a Chorymi harvest
  fleet his
  "And almost get their damn fool heads blown
  off," McCoy said.
  "Why didn't you do something to stop the
  Chorymi?" Llissa demanded.
  "That's not what we're here for," said Kirk.
"We
  don't interfere in local disputes."
  "Then what are you here for?"
  Kirk's jaw tightened. "For what I thought was a
  simple mission which has gotten very
  complicated. I've got two

  officers missing somewhere on your planet. I can't
  get a straight answer out of anybody in charge
his
  "Speaking of straight answers, you didn't give
  me one. What was that simple mission?"
  "Evaluating the Federation science station set
  up on Akkalla to decide if it should get
further
  funding or close down."
  Llissa jumped to her feet. "And you claim you
  don't interfere in local disputes? That's the
  biggest lie I've ever heard."
  McCoy rolled his eyes as Kirk rose up out
of his
  seat. He and Llissa were back to pretruce
  positions.
  "Preceptor, that outpost was a proper and
  approved science project his
  "Approved by who the Publican? That explains
  why those so-called Federation scientists have
  fought us and sided with the government every
  step of the way. They refused to have meetings
  with us without preordained agendas, and then
  they canceled the meetings altogether. When we
  tried to meet secretly with them, they informed
  the Grolian Guard and had our people arrested."
  "Your people have surrounded their facilities,
  thrown fire bombs, harassed them to the point
  where they're practically prisoners they can't go
  outside without armed protection," Kirk shot
  back.
  The sparring match was interrupted by the
  young guard. "The Publican is ready to see you
  now."
  Kirk whirled on the Akkallan trooper.
"Ready
  to see who now?"
  "All of you. If you'll come with me, please?"
  "Well," Kirk grumbled, loudly enough for only
  McCoy to hear, "isn't this just wonderful . .
."
  His mood got no better when the guard led
  them into the audience chamber where they'd
  previously conferred with Publican Ffaridor and
  Brigadier Vvox. Ffaridor was nowhere to be
seen.
  Vvox was there, accompanied by another
  Akkallan officer, a man of
arrogant bearing. He
  had wavy hair and chiseled cheekbones framing
  stone-cold eyes, and Kirk noticed immediately
  that his uniform seemed more ornate than Vvox's,
  with fringed braid at both shoulders, a wide
belt
  with black leather gloves tucked over it, and a

  jewel-handled dagger on his hip. On every finger
  he wore a ring, and he held a swagger stick
under
  one arm.
  From appearances, this other officer might have
  outranked Vvox. But she sat on the
Publican's
  throne while he stood attentively at her
side, as
  she had done for the Publican. With an imperious
  wave, she directed them to sit in three chairs
  clustered facing her.
  "Brigadier Vvox," Kirk said, "we made
a request
  to see the Publican."
  "And that request was turned down, Admiral.
  The Publican's a very busy head of
state and
  he's dealing with a number of critical situations
his
  "I'm well aware of that, but Akkalla is a
  member of the Federation, and my ship is here on
  Federation business. Your government has certain
  responsibilities his
  "And they've been delegated to me. I'm sure
  you don't handle every chore aboard your
  starship. This is my top aide, Vice
Brigadier
  Rrelin Hhayd. He is supreme commandant
of the
  Grolian Guard. Between us, we're in charge of
all
  military and security forces on Akkalla, and
I
  believe your difficulties are related
to security
  matters. Correct, Admiral Kirk?"
  "Correct, but his
  Vvox didn't allow him the luxury of
qualifying
  his reply as she turned her attention to Llissa
  Kkayn. "As for you, preceptor,
Publican Ffaridor
  asked me to pass along his assurances of
support
  for the work you and your colleagues are doing at
  the Collegium."
  "Then why did he try to put us In the same
  basket as the Cape Alliance terrorists?"
  The brigadier leaned forward, her eyes radiating
  sincerity. "I was with him as he made his speech
  today. I followed every word. And I can assure
  you there was no such statement."
  Llissa clenched her teeth, trying to hold on
to
  the edge of anger she'd honed while arguing with
  Kirk. But she felt it melting in the harsh light
of
  reality. Vvox's stolid adherence to the party line
  wasn't going to shred, not even unravel at one
  corner.
  "He used the phrase "people of science." Do you
  expect me to believe he wasn't trying
to imply that
  the Collegium is somehow involved?"

  "If that's your interpretation,
preceptor, he can't
  be held to it. I know his intentions."
  Inside, Llissa sensed a whimper of defeat
trying
  to climb up her throat. She swallowed it.
"If we
  got that meaning out of his speech, other
  Akkallans did too. We have nothing to do with
  the Cape Alliance, and we condemn their
  methods his
  "But not their goals?" Commandant Hhayd
  interjected, his voice calm and barely audible.
His
  choice of words carried the barbs he'd intended
  to embed in Llissa's plea.
  For a moment, Kirk felt sorry for her.
  "That's not fair! We don't agree with anything
  they say or do. If you insist the Publican
didn't
  mean to link us with the terrorists, well, all I can
  ask is that he and his speechwriters be more
  careful with their choice of words."
  Llissa swirled her cloak over her shoulders
and
  stalked out of the room.
  "Admiral Kirk," Vvox prompted, "do you
have
  anything else you wanted to discuss?"
  "As a matter of fact, yes my two missing
  officers. We've given you a chance to conduct the
  search you promised, and we haven't gotten any
  word at all."
  Hhayd took a half-step forward. "That's because
  we had nothing to report to you."
  "You haven't found anything?"
  "Not a trace of your men or their ship, which
  adds evidence to support the conclusion that they
  never reached Akkalla. They died in space."
  "We'd have found something if that's what
  happened," McCoy hissed. "Are you saying
you've
  called off your search?"
  "Not at all," Vvox said. "As the admiral
has
  pointed out, Akkalla is a Federation member.
  We'll do everything possible to fulfill our
  responsibilities to Starfleet. You'll just have
to
  accept my assurances."
  "What about protection for the science
  outpost?" Kirk said.
  "The Grolian Guard is quite capable of
  protecting the outpost," Hhayd said, completely
  unruffled.
  Kirk wanted to ruffle him the Akkallan's
  smugness infuriated him. "Then how do you
  explain the fire-bomb attack earlier today, in
  broad daylight?"

  "Determined terrorists are difficult to stop."
  "I respectfully request additional security
  measures be put in place, Commandant Hhayd,
or
  I'll his
  "We'll do what we can, Kirk. Our
resources do
  have limits, and, frankly, the Akkallan
defense
  forces have other pressing concerns."
  was or I'll be forced to report your failure to
  abide by treaty to the Federation Science Ministry
  and the Council itself," Kirk said, completing his
  threat without missing a beat. "I hope you'll
relay
  my position to the Publican."
  Vvox nodded. "Is there anything else?"
  "Not at the moment, brigadier." Kirk flipped
his
  communicator open. "Kirk to Enterprise two
to
  beam up."
  The transporter beam caught Kirk and
McCoy,
  and they sparkled and faded. When they were
  gone, Vvex crossed her arms and slouched back
in
  the throne's deep cushions.
  "They're not happy, Rrelin."
  Hhayd smiled sardonically. "Can't say as I
blame
  them. We weren't very cooperative. How long do
  you plan to keep this up?"
  "What makes you think I plan his
  "Because you plan everything," he said, caressing
  her cheek with his powerful hand. He wasn't a
  brawny man, but his tailored uniform
emphasised
  his narrow waist and broad shoulders. His
  physique and movements hinted at sinewy
  strength.
  Henna Vvox placed her hand over his and
  kissed his fingertips lightly. "Then let's do
  something spontaneous if you don't have any
  pressing appointments."
  "Even if I did, you could . . . order me
to your
  office. You are my commanding officer . . ."
  She nodded. "That's true. I'm glad you still
  remember that, Commandant. All right I'm
  ordering you to report to my office."
  He snapped to attention. "Here in the Tower, or
  at the Citadel, Brigadier Vvox?"
  She licked her lips seductively. "Here in
the
  Tower. I don't want to wait through a boat
ride
  across the strait."
  Hhayd batted his eyelashes. "When,
Brigadier?"
  he teased.
  She rubbed her hand on his chest. "Now."

  He stepped back and saluted. "I'll report
to your
  office immediately."
  "Very good, Commandant. I'll be waiting."
  By the time Hhayd arrived, she'd changed into
  a robe held closed only by a sash at her
waist. She
  met him at the door and led him to the sleeping
  cubicle just off the office chamber, an alcove
with
  a bed, a small glass-top table and a pair of
chairs.
  A bottle of aqua-tinted wine stood on the

  and Vvox filled two goblets, handing one to
  Hhayd and sipping from her own.
  But he wasn't interested in the wine and closed
  her in a rough embrace. After a lengthy kiss,
they
  sat on the edge of the bed. "I wonder how long
  we can juggle things," she said.
  "What about Ffaridor? You're not losing control
  of him, are you?"
  Vvox slid back against a mountain of pillows,
  tucking her feet under her with a disdainful hugh.
  "He doesn't get a scrap of information without
my
  approval. He sees the world the way
I paint it."
  Then she paused. "Besides, if he gets
cranky, I
  just take him to bed."
  Hhayd stood up abruptly and paced by the
  bedside.
  "Rrelin," she scolded, "you're such a jealous
  little boy. Although, now that I think of it, Abben
  is quite an accomplished lover. There's something
  to be said for experience."
  Her current partner lunged across the bed and
  clamped his fingers around her wrist with a grip
  painful enough to make her wince. "I don't want
  to hear about it," he said angrily.
  Vvox wrenched free of his grasp. She sat up
on
  her haunches and poked him with a threatening
  finger. "Let's get one thing straight I do what
I
  have to do to maintain our position of authority."
  -
  "Certain things I don't want to know about."
  Her lips curled into a cruel half-smile.
"Yes, but
  I enjoy seeing you squirm."
  "You're playing a dangerous game with me,
  Jjenna," he snarled. "If I were you, I'd be
careful."
  She launched herself at him before he could
  react, pinning him to the bed. She sat on his
  stomach, pressing her full weight down on his
  shoulders. "Don't threaten me." Her tone was
  anything but playful.

  "I'm not. But you never know when the rules
  might change, in spite of all your careful
planning.
  That happens, you might not be on top anymore."
  "I'll be on top whenever I want to be,
Rrelin.
  For the good of your career, I'd suggest you
  remember that."
  Summoning all his strength, he managed to
  shove her off and he rolled to his feet,
retreating
  to one of the chairs and his wine goblet. "I never
  should've let you seduce him," he said
petulantly.
  "I didn't need your permission," she shot
back,
  settling on her pillows again. "Your acceptance of
  my decision simply made things easier for both
of
  us."
  "It was supposed to be temporary just until we
  could pick our spot to overthrow him and declare
  ourselves military rulers. That's the only reason
I
  agreed his
  "You agreed because I gave you no choice.
  Your main failing is that you're a slave to your
  impulses. And I know how to manipulate those
  impulses."
  "Your main failing is, you're a prisoner of your
  schemes and rules."
  "I make the rules," she said sharply. "And those
  schemes you like to ridicule have brought us to
  the brink of absolute power. Within two weeks,
  we'll make our move."
  "Not while the Enterprise is here."
  "I'll think of a way to eliminate that unforeseen
  complication. Don't you worry about it, my love
.
  . ."
  Poised over the sunken tub in his
bathroom,
  Abben Ffaridor dipped a toe through the bubbles
  and down to the water, testing its temperature.
  "Perfect." As he stood in his velvety
robe, he
  caught a side view of his reflection in the
opposite
  mirrored wall. He turned and faced himself,
eyes
  narrowed in studied silence. He lifted his
  shoulders and straightened his posture, pleased to
  see that such a simple adjustment Dattened the
  bulges and folds at his waist. The upper
torso that
  had once been muscular and firm from youthful
  summers spent working at the docks of Tyvol had
  rounded into flabby bulk or had it?
  Maybe it was only the slouch brought on by
  desk work that made it appear that way. So he
  was a little thicker through the middle; who wasn't
  at his age? He decided happily he'd held
up
  remarkably well.

  "Room for one more, Abben?"
  At the sound of the silken voice, he opened his
  eyes to see Jjenna Vvox wearing a robe that
  matched his own. "Of course you know there's
  always room for you, Jjenna."
  She came over to him and they sat on a bench
  adjacent to the tub. "You look worried, my
love."
  "Well, I was just looking at myself in the
mirror,
  and I wasn't sure I liked what I saw."
  She began massaging his shoulders. "What was
  that?"
  "An old man."
  "You're not old, Abben."
  "Well, then, a man to the far side of middle
age.
  Do you think I'm still in good shape? Be honest."
  In answer, she held his face with both hands and
  gave him a soul-probing kiss. "Need I say
more?"
  "No, no, that was just fine."
  "Not that I ever talk about what we do, but if I
  did, I'd say you were the best lover I ever
had."
  "Well . . . what a nice way to end
a long day.
  You look tired yourself, my dear brigadier."
  "I am. I just had a lengthy meeting about
  security matters with Commandant Hhayd. That
  man could tire anyone out, once he gets
going."
  "I'm still not sure about him. Maybe we
  promoted him too quickly."
  "Not at all, Abben. He serves me quite
well."
  "How did your meeting with Admiral Kirk go?"
  "As well as can be expected. We had an
  additional complication Preceptor Kkayn came
  over to plead for the Collegium. I saw them both
  at once."
  "Anything I need to know about?"
  "No. You're much too busy to worry about these
  little nuisances. I don't know how you managed
  before you had me running interference for you."
  "I wonder the same thing, Jjenna. Sometimes I
  don't think I tell you often enough how much I
  appreciate everything you do. And why won't you
  let me tell the Synod? I think you deserve
public
  recognition. No other brigadier has
ever handled
  as much as you."
  "Knowing I'm helping you is all the recognition
  I need, my love. Good work is its own
reward."
  She stood and started to shrug out of her robe.
  "Enough talk about

  business. You said it yourself the end of a long
  day. Let's just play . . ."
  "Jjenna . . . one more question." He faced her.
  "You know more about what goes on in this
  government than anyone. Am I a good
Publican?"
  "The best." She kissed him again. "Now let's
get
  into that tub before the water gets cold."
  Jjenna Vvox turned her fur collar up around
her
  ears and under her chin as she watched the waves
  roll in. She sat alone on the balcony of
her
  quarters in the Citadel. Across the harbor,
lights
  still burned in the windows of the Cloistered
  Tower. To the west, streetlamps wound up and
  down the hills and bridges of Tyvol like gleaming
  necklaces carefully arranged on midnight
velvet.
  Down below the Citadel's cliff, sea birds
called in
  haunting harmony as they settled in their nests for
  the night.
  She was tired. It wasn't easy constantly
  grooming the egos of two preening men. Was it
  worth the time and effort? She had a planet to
  run, and exercising her expanding powers while
  maintaining the facade of Ffaridor's leadership
  was becoming increasingly difficult. It was time to
  end the charade. As the wind fluttered her hair,
  now released from its daytime confinement and
  flowing over her shoulders, she allowed herself a
  widening smile. She now knew her next step
on
  the march to consolidating power over Akkalla.
  She would share it with Vice Brigadier Hhayd
  first thing in the morning, and he would support
  it fully.
  As usual, she would offer him no choice.
  98
  Chapter Five
  SULU TAPPED THE code keys and the food
  synthesiser obliged by delivering his breakfast
  order within seconds. He glanced around the
  mess lounge, trying to decide where to sit.
  Seena Maybri waved from a table in a cool
  grove of miniature evergreen trees and Sulu
  ambled over to join her.
  "Good morning," he said, looking at her tray.
  "You're almost done. You must've been the first
  person up this morning."
  "I'm having so much fun doing this evaluation,"
  she said, beaming. "I just can't wait to get back
to
  it once each shift is over."
  "I'll bet you've been working on your time off,
  too."
  "I have not!" she protested then shrugged
  meekly. "Well, maybe a little. I just want
to
  impress the admiral."
  "And what's that you're drinking ?"
  "Oh, nothing special," she said, cupping a
  protective hand over her mug.
  He leaned closer to her tray and
sniffed.
  She knew her face was darkening to a medium
  red and she confessed. "Oh, all right it's
  chocolate milk. This is your fault, Sulu you
got
  me addicted!"
  "Ahhh, but what a wonderful addiction," he
  chuckled.
  She sipped the drink with a vaguely guilty
  expression in her eyes. Then she brightened. "I
  have to beam back down to the science outpost
  today. Some more data I need."
  "By yourself?"
  "Mm-hmm."
  "Well, Admiral Kirk must be impressed
already.
  He

  usually doesn't give people on their first
  assignments so much independence. When do you
  expect to be finished with the evaluation?"
  "Tomorrow. Then I hope I'll have a chance to
  do some research of my own. Akkalla's such an
  interesting planet."
  "'Interesting" is one way to describe
it," Sulu
  said, a dubious scowl creasing his forehead.
  Maybri bit her lower lip and her hair tufts
  quivered. "Oh, SulueaI'm sorry. I
feel so dumb
  sometimes. I'm so wrapped up in my first big
  assignment, I almost forgot about Mr. Spock and
  Chekov."
  "That's okay. You've got your job to do, and
  that's what you should be thinking about."
  "But it was supposed to be their job. Any signs
  of them at all?"
  He shook his head and sighed. "But if they
  didn't break up in space, if they made it
to
  Akkalla, I'm sure they're alive. And if
they're
  alive, we'll find "em. Admiral Kirk
won't leave
  here until we do. I know that."
  Elbows propped on the dark wood table,
  Brigadier Vvox peered past her steepled
fingers at
  the topmost of the Yome game stand's seven
  circular platforms. On each level,
multiple
  geometric playing pieces stood in adjacent
  triangles marked on the platforms, which in turn
  pivoted off a central support post.
  "Sometimes I think you like playing that damn
  Yome game more than you like making love to
  me," Rrelin Hhayd huffed as he entered
Vvox's
  office.
  "Sometimes I do," she said, without shifting her
  gaze from the seventh level. Her hand snatched a
  piece like a hunting animal pouncing on its
prey
  and moved it to the next platform down. "Your
  move," she said with a satisfied smile.
  "Considering." The metallic-voiced reply
came
  from a computer console the size of a fat book,
  resting on the table next to the game pedestal.
  "It's a shame computers don't have facial
  expressions. I'd love to see how annoyed this
one
  is right now," she said to her adjutant as he sat
in
  the chair next to her.
  "Was that a good move?"

  "If you knew anything about Yome, you'd know
  it was an excellent move."
  Hhayd shrugged. "Too many rules to remember.
  Just don't have the patience for it."
  "I know. Sometimes I wonder about that.
  Patience is more than a virtue for a military
  leader. It's a necessity."
  "That's debatable. But you've got enough for both
  of us."
  Vvex shook her head. "No, it's not
debatable,
  Rrelin. Patience is what gives you the strength
to
  pause before striking at an enemy to weigh the
  advantages and the dangers, to foresee the
  consequences and be prepared so you're never
  surprised. This morning's little action, for
  instance. Is it done?"
  He nodded. "Kirk will have a little trouble
  locating his Federation scientists today."
  "tilde Good."
  "Now," he said, "we get to see just how good
  you are at predicting consequences."
  The Enterprise looped around Akkalla in a
lazy
  elliptical orbit, and Uhura had come to the
  decision that planets without much surface land
  mass got boring to the eye pretty quickly.
She'd
  seen quite a few worlds over the years from her
  post at the starship's communications console,
  and her artful sensibilities hadn't dulled in that
  time. She was still able to appreciate nature's
  handiwork in the intricate sculpture of a
coastline,
  or chains of islands, or the endlessly swirling
  kaleidoscopic clouds shrouding the gas
giants. But
  Akkalla was an unremarkable blue-grey
ball, and
  she'd begun to ignore its presence on main
  viewer. In idle moments, she wondered if
she'd
  even notice if the planet suddenly disappeared
  from the screen.
  This, however, was not an idle moment as the
  turbolift doors whooshed open and Kirk
strode
  onto the bridge. "Uhura, has Lieutenant
Maybri
  checked in?"
  "Yes, sir. She's ready to beam down when you
  give the order."
  "Good. At least we can get this evaluation over
  with today." He pressed a comm button on the
  command chair armrest to activate shipwide page.
  "Lieutenant Maybri, report to the
transporter
  room, please." He turned back to

  Uhura."...Commander, get me Dr.
McPhillips down
  at the science station, please."
  "Aye, sir." Her graceful fingers skipped
across
  the console. "Enterprise to Dr. McPhillips
his
  Kirk waited expectantly as Uhura tried
several
  frequencies. "Problem?"
  "No response, sir."
  Kirk leaned one foot on the step up to the
  outer bridge level. "Can you tell if
it's an
  equipment problem?"
  "Everything's working at our end, and the
  transmission is being received at their end. It's a
  clean signal, too, no interference or
jamming."
  "Then there's nobody there to receive it."
  Sulu half turned from the helm console.
  "Admiral, do you still want Maybri beaming down
  there?"
  "Good point. But none of your business, Mr.
  Sulu. Mind your station."
  "Sorry, sir. I just meant his
  "I know friendly concertos not a coun-manial
  offecse." Kirk hit his intercom switch again.
  "Security. Have two guards report to the
  transporter room and accompany Lieutenant
  Maybri to the planet." He changed channels.
  "Transporter room, is Maybri there yet?"
  The transporter officer, a felinoid ensign,
  flattened her whiskers as she extended a Hawed
  finger toward the intercom button. "Yeses,
she's
  here, sirrr."
  "Lieutenant tilde
  Before Kirk could continue, the transporter
  room doors snapped open and two security
  officers entered, a man and a woman. Maybri
had
  seen them around the ship but didn't know either
  one by name. The man was a baby-faced ensign
  with shoulders broad enough to fill the doorway.
  "Are you Maybri?" the woman asked, her
voice
  a musical lilt. She had mahogany skin,
elegant
  cheekbones, and short frizzy hair. "I'm
Lieutenant
  Santana. Admiral Kirk's ordered us down
to
  Akkalla with you."
  Maybri's tall ears perked to full height.
"Admiral!"
  "Yes, lieutenant, are you still there?"
  "Why are you sending two security people to
  nursemaid me? I think I've proven that his
  "Lieutenant, we can't his

  "I've proven that I'm his
  "Lieutenant, I'm trying to his
  "tilde completely capable of doing my his
  "Lieutenant Maybri," Kirk roared, "shut
up and
  listen. That's an order."
  Stunned, the young Erithian fell back an
  involuntary step. "Yes, sir," she peeped.
  "Now, then except for this regrettable tendency
to
  not let your commanding officer get a word in
  edgewise, you have done a capable job. But that's
  not the issue. We haven't been able to establish
  contact with the science outpost. Considering the
  unstable political down there, it's very possible
  something serious has taken place. his
  "Like what, sir?" asked Maybri, her voice
barely
  audible.
  "Well, Maybri, I don't know. Which is why
I'm
  going against my f rst inclination to keep you aboard
  ship and send just a security team. I've
decided I
  want your assessment of the situation down there,
  whatever you find. his
  Maybri bounced excitedly on her
toes. "Thank
  you, sir. I'll do my best."
  "You're in charge of the landing party, lieutenant.
  That means you're responsible for your safety and
  theirs. his
  The security ensign leaned over to Santana's
  ear. "That means we could be in trouble," he
  murmured with a rough Slavic accent.
  "You're not to leave the outpost compound
  without my express orders. Check out the lab f
  rst unless there's immediate danger. In that case,
  beam back up instantly. Do I make myself
clear?"
  Maybri and the two guards materialised in a
  courtyard about fifty meters from the lab building,
  on the side away from the waterfront where
  previous anti-Federation demonstrations had
  taken place. Misty raindrops danced on the
breeze
  as if uncertain whether to fall or simply fly.
There
  was no activity around the outpost, at least none
  that could be seen from their beam-down position.
  "Let's check around this way," Maybri
suggested,
  leading Lieutenant Santana and Ensign
  Vlastikovich down the path that led to the
  docking area and the seawall. The security officers
  took phaser pistols out and held them at the
  ready.
  But no arms were needed. They poked their
  heads around

  the corner of the building to survey the waterfront
  and found no one there. No boats. Nothing.
  "Hey, Maybri," Santana prompted,
"aren't you
  forgetting something?"
  The Erithian's saucer eyes darted in sudden
  panic. "I am?"
  Vlastikovich raised his gravelly voice an
octave.
  ""I'll check in as soon as ?"
  was as we beam down," Maybri finished. "Oh,
  lords!" She snapped open her communicator.
  "Maybri to Enterprise."
  "Kirk here. Report."
  "Well, there's nothing suspicious outside,
sir. No
  activity at all. Doesn't look like
anybody's here.
  No boats docked. Should we check inside
now?"
  "At your discretion, lieutenant. Be careful. his
  Suddenly feeling like a commander, Maybri
  straightened confidently. "Aye, sir. Landing
party
  out." She g'ianced at the guards flanking her.
  "You heard him. Let's get to it."
  They approached the lab entrance at a front
  corner of the sturdy stone outpost building and
  found the door hanging omits hinges. The warning
  sign gave Maybri's skin a tinge of shading,
but she
  forced down her own sense of foreboding.
  "Somebody obviously didn't believe in
knocking,"
  Vlastikovich said. The door was jammed, and he
  shouldered it open with a grunt, revealing a dark
  staircase spiralling up.
  Santana swung her flashlight toward the top
and
  took the lead, making her way slowly. Their
"coot
  heels clanged on the metal step
plates, so
  sneaking up was out of the question. When they
  reached the top, Santana was the first to peer
  around the corner, into the lab area. She let out
  a low whistle as she pocketed her light.
  "Wow. Whoever didn't believe in knocking
  didn't believe in cleaning up, either."
  "Let me see," Maybri said, stumbling at the
top
  step and bumping into the guards. When she'd
  steadied herself, they parted shoulders and she
  squeezed through. "Oh his
  The main lab looked like a Chorymi harvest
  ship had blasted through it. Furniture was
  upended, expensive equipment dismembered,
  computer data cassettes tossed everywhere.
  Maybri wasn't prepared for anything like this, and
  she fumbled for her communicator. "Landing
  party to Enterprise, was she said, voice and ear
tips
  quivering in unison.

  "Kirk here. Report, lieutenant."
  She swallowed to moisten her mouth. "It's a
  mess, Admiral. Somebody ripped the
place apart."
  "Are you all right?"
  "Yes, sir, we're fine." She realized what
he
  might really have meant, and took a chance at
  second-guessing him. "If you meant me, I'm
okay,
  sir."
  "I had a hunch you would be, Maybri. Is the
  situation immediately dangerous?"
  "I don't think so, sir." She looked at her
escorts
  for concurrence. Vlastikovich gave her a
  thumb's-up signal as he and Santana searched
the
  lab and adjoining rooms. "I'll put one guard
on
  lookout while we dig through for anything useful."
  "Make it fast, lieutenant. I don't want
to lose any
  more people. his
  Dammit all! Kirk thought as he hunkered down
  in the command chair, arms fouled and legs
  crossed. The turbolift doors hissed open,

  McCoy stepped out, taking up his accustomed
  position behind the center seat.
  "Maybri just called," Kirk said. "The lab's
been
  trashed."
  "You think Preceptor Kkayn lied to us about
  the Collegium's people being responsible for
  harassing McPhillips's team?"
  "Got any other strong suspects? I'm open
for
  suggestions, Bones."
  "Well, I don't trust anybody we've
met from the
  government."
  "You're a perceptive man, McCoy."
Kirk
  unfolded himself and vaulted up to the turbolift.
  As the doors whooshed open, he paused only
long
  enough to tell Uhura, "Call Maybri and tell
her
  I'm beaming down for a look at the damage."
  Uhura started to reply, then frowned and raised
  a hand to her earpiece. "Admiral, I'm
picking
  up was Her voice trailed
  He came over to her station. "What is it?"
  "It's over. I was monitoring planetary
channels,
  and someone broke into the government
  broadcast and commandeered the frequency."
  "Play it back."

  The communications officer recalled the
  recording from her computer file, and the blank
  viewscreenabv her station came to life with still
  images of Dr. McPhillips and her two
staff
  members, followed by the emblem of the
  Collegium. An angry male voice spoke
with
  purposeful intensity: "These are the offworld
  contaminants posing as scientists. They are
  enemies of Akkalla, and they've been placed
  under people's arrest by the concerned scientists
  of Akkalla. They will be held for people's trial.
  We will strike more blows for freedom." The
  picture was replaced by slashes of electronic
  interference, then a government signal declaring
  that control of the airwaves had been
reesta tilde
  fished.
  "Certainly points a finger at the
Collegium,"
  McCoy said. "Maybe even a whole hand."
  "I'm not so sure." Uhura thoughtfully tapped
a
  fingernail on her console. "Why would they want
  to reveal their identity?"
  "Aye," Scotty added. "Wouldn't that make
'em
  subject "'imm arrest?"
  "Not if they've already gone into hiding," said
  McCoy. "Easy enough to check on that, Jim."
  "I plan to, Bones. If they have gone
into hiding,
  we know who's got our people. Maybe Spock and
  Chekov, too. And if they're not hiding, then the
  Collegium may not be responsible for what we
just
  saw, and somebody transmitted that as a hoax."
  "Which leaves us where?" McCoy said. "Up the
  proverbial creek."
  "We've still got a paddle or two," Kirk
cut in. He
  turned to the blond ensign subbing at Spock's
  science post. "Greenbriar tilde his
  "Greenberger, sir."
  "Right. How are you at detective work,
ensign?"
  "Like a terrier, sir. I don't give up."
  "Good. Take Uhura's recording and run every
  kind of analysis you and the computer can think
  of. I want to know everything possible about that
  transmission. Rip it apart, and maybe we can
get
  some hints as to where it came from."
  "Yes, sir."
  Uhura keyed a series of switches on her
panel
  to patch her station into the science post. "Data
  transferred, sir."

  "Contact the landing party. Tell them we're
  beaming them up now."
  In the Collegium's conference chamber, Llissa
  Kkayn and her Council of Senior Guides
sat
  around the oval table except for Eddran, whose
  short legs propelled him from one end
of the
  room to the other like a manic wind-up toy.
  "We didn't do it," he railed, "but everyone will
  think we did, so what's the difference? Maybe
we
  should join the damn Cape Alliance! As long as
  we're going to be executed for high treason, it
  might as well be for acts we've actually
  committed! It's a plot a plot.hatched by our
  scummy Publican and his military monsters.
I
  warned and warned and warned, and did any of
  you listen to me? No!" He halted and struck a
  challenging pose, his beak of a nose stuck up in
  the air. "What are we going to do?"
  Ssuramaya's dark skin glistened. "You can't be
  serious about us joining the rebels, Eddran."
  "Why not?" asked Ossage, eyelids drooping
  enough to make him appear ready to nap. "We're
  running short of alternatives. Eddran's right
about
  this much our survival may be on the line any
  time now."
  The old man, Nniko, thumped his walking stick
  impatiently on the floor. "We're
in
  trouble there's no doubt of that. But how we
  react may decide the future of the
Collegium for
  all time to come."
  "Nniko is correct," Rraitine said
softly,
  smoothing her silvered curls. "Our own
survival
  may very well be called into question, but the
  survival of this institution is also our
  responsibility. his
  "Yes, yes," Ssuramaya agreed with a
vigorous
  nod. "We mustn't do anything to tarnish
  Collegium. Political crises come and go.
But this
  place must last forever. It is a jewel, and we
are
  its guardians."
  "That's very picturesque," Eddran sneered.
"But
  highflown words won't save our behinds. And if
  we're dead, then nobody's going to be left to
  protect this so-called jewel. The
time's come to
  fight. Others have already paved the way. If we
  join them, we might have the strength to save
  Akkalla from the madmen in the Tower."
  Ttindel pointed a pudgy hand at Preceptor
  Kkayn. "Llissa, nothing to say?"

  She stood. "I'll be in my apartment, reaching a
  decision. We'll reconvene here in three
hexes and
  vote then on my recommendation."
  Eddran pounded on the table. "What if we
  disagree with your recommendations"
  "Then I'll resign, and you can pick a new
  preceptor."
  Stunned silence for a moment, then chaotic
  argument, with her allies pleading for Llissa to
  stay no matter what and her opponents protesting
  her timing. Eddran's voice sliced the din:
"You
  should resign now!"
  It was the last thing Llissa heard as she marched
  out of the conference chamber.
  Walking briskly, she went directly to her
suite in
  a wing of the main building, passing through
  dark-paneled corridors decorated with paintings
of
  past Collegium leaders and the school as it grew
  over the years. She reached her handcarved door,
  burst through, and slammed it shut behind her.
  With a strangled snarl of frustration, she threw
  her ceremonial cloak in a heap on the
patterned
  rug and slumped into the cushions of her couch.
  Then she heard a tentative rap on the door.
  "Go away."
  "I can't," came the muffled reply. It was
  Mma.i, her young attendant. "It's . . .
it's very
  important, Llissa."
  The door creaked, and a fringe of frizzy amber
  hair edged in. Then came the pale face,
eyes wide
  with worry. Mma.i stopped there, poised in the
  tiny crack of an opening.
  "The Enterprise is calling you."
  For an uncomprehending moment Llissa
  remained anchored. Then she bolted from the
  couch to an ornate cabinet and slid
aside the front
  panel, revealing a communications unit,
  incongruously modern in a room decorated with
  antiques and dominated by bookcases filled with
  ancient volumes. "Come in. Close the
door."
  Mma.i did as she was told, darting over to
  watch as Llissa pressed a power button and the
  viewscreen glowed ghostly blue. Then James
Kirk
  appeared. Llissa was relieved to find no fury
in his
  expression, just a terse glare.
  "Admiral Kirk."
  "Preceptor lggicayn. was He dipped his
head for an
  instant of minimal politeness.

  She decided to take the offensive and felt an
  astonishing sang-froid considering the
  circumstances. The peace of the innocent? she
  wondered. Or of the lamb resigned to slaugh-
  ter"..."...ally saw the phony broadcast?"
  "Phony? So you deny your people had anything to
  do with it, or with kidnapping our
scientists?" His
  tone was flat and careworn.
  "I told you before we're not terrorists. We're
  teachers and researchers and students. We don't
  study abduction and explosives here." Llissa
took
  a deep breath. Mma.i drew closer, and
Llissa
  glanced her way long enough to offer a reassuring
  nod. "Look, Admiral, we can claw each
other for
  hours, but it's not going to get us anywhere. You
  don't believe me when I say the Collegium
had
  nothing to do with the disappearance of your
  scientists, and I don't know whether to believe
  you when you tell us you're not here for purposes
  of military intimidation. Meanwhile, since the
  moment we met, things have gotten much worse
  for both of us. Can we agree on that much?"
  Kirk managed a gallows smile. "I
suppose. his
  Mma.i was at Llissa's ear now. "What're
you
  going to do?" she whispered.
  "Don't worry," Llissa murmured, then
addressed
  Kirk again. "As your Dr. McCoy would say,
the
  logical thing for us to do is find some common
  ground."
  "It would . . . thrill McCoy to know you prize
his
  devotion to logic," said Kirk. "How do you
propose
  we find this common ground?"
  "A meeting, just the two of us. I trust my own
  instincts, Admiral."
  "All right. It's your idea, preceptor.
There's no
  neutral turf to meet on your Collegium or
my
  ship?"
  "I don't think it's safe for you to come here."
  "You're willing to come aboard the Enterprise?"
  "I trust you that much. And I've never been on
  a starship. I'm an educator this should be
  educational."
  "Llissa!" Mma.i hissed in alarm. "How can
  you his
  Llissa silenced her with a sharp look. "If
anyone
  asks where I am, don't tell them." She
held
  Mma.i by her shoulders and gazed into the girl's
  fearful eyes. "Sometimes you have to go where
  you'd never dream of going to save your dreams.
  Do you understand that, Mma.i?"

  "Not . . . not really."
  "Well, I'm not sure I do, either. If this
all works
  out, maybe we both will." Llissa turned back
to
  the viewer. "I'm ready, Admiral Kirk.
Uh, how
  does this work now? What do I have to do?"
  "Nothing. Just stand close to your comm unit.
  We've already locked onto your coordinates.
You "ye
  never trawled by transporter before?"
  "No."
  Kirk smiled. "Well, you're in for another
  educational experience, then."
  For the moment, Llissa forgot about their
  dispute and felt herself enveloped in the
  anticipation of a new adventure. "What does
it
  feel like?"
  "A tingling sensation. Rather pleasant, actually...
  Ready."...tilde
  Llissa Kkayn nodded. "Ready."
  Too amazed to be frightened, Mma.i watched
  as her mentor turned to glittering bits that danced
  and shimmered with a brilliance that first made
  her blink, then faded to a glowing outline . . .
  then were gone! Uissa didn't have to
  worry Mma.i wouldn't tell anyone where the
  preceptor had gone. She wouldn't know where to
  begin.
  and in a subjective instant Llissa found
  herself in the transporter chamber of the
  Enterprise. Kirk stepped around the control
  console to greet her with an outstretched hand
  that also served to help her down to the deck.
  The assistance was welcome, since she felt a
Bush
  of disorientation and nearly missed the step.
  "Happens to everybody." He smiled.
"Welcome
  to the Enterprise. his
  "Thank you, Admiral Kirk."
  He turned to the transporter technician.
  "Ensign, no one is to know Preceptor
Kkayn's
  come aboard."
  The technician purred and flicked her whiskers.
  "Yeses, sirrr."
  "This way, preceptor." He led her out, and they
  followed the curving corridor to a small
briefing
  room. The doors slid shut behind them, and they
  sat at opposite sides of the table. "I thought
you
  might want to keep this a secret visit."

  "I appreciate that. Although, frankly, who
knows
  if I'll ever see the inside of a starship again?
  Unless we end up at each other's throats,
I'm
  probably going to want a more extensive tour
  before you transport me home."
  "My pleasure. Can I offer you something to eat or
  drink?"
  "Yes. Thank you."
  Kirk moved to the food synthesiser and punched
  in. The lid retracted, revealing a tray that
held a
  pot with steam venting from its spout a pair of
  cups, and a platter with assorted pastries and
fruit
  sections. "This is tea. We've always considered
it
  to be a civilized drink, so I thought it would set
  the proper tone," he said, carrying the tray to
  their table.
  He poured and sat down again, this time next to
  her. She lifted her cup for a toast. "Then
here's to
  civilized discourse, Admiral Kirk."
  "Civilized discourse." They clinked their cups
  together, and she started to sip. "Wait," he
  blurted. "Better let-it cool off His,
  Her eyes widened as the boiling liquid burned
her
  mouth.
  "Sorry," Kirk said. "I should've told you
tea is
  served very hot."
  With arched brows, she bit off a small chunk of
  danish. "'Starfleet Admiral Scalds
Educator,"" she
  quotedea.z if reciting a headline. Kirk
smiled
  sheepishly. "Well. "Starfleet
Admiral" how do we
  stop arguing?" Llissa asked.
  "I suppose we both have to offer some proof of
  our positions."
  She spread her hands in supplication. "I
don't
  have any tangible proof to show you. All I can do
  is let you read the history of the Collegium,
if you
  want to see what we've been standing for these
  past five hundred years."
  "I'd like to see that history but just out of
  curiosity," Kirk said. "You weren't in hiding
when
  I contacted you, and you were willing to come up
  to my ship. That's proof enough for me."
  "Well, that's a relief but don't expect me
to let
  you off that easily."
  "What would make you believe that the
  Federation science team wasn't in collusion with
  the Publican and the government?"

  "I'm not sure. I mean, this isn't a court of
law.
  Maybe if I had some idea what they were working
  on."
  "Well was He snapped his fingers and reached for
  the tabletop intercom. "Lieutenant Maybri,
report
  to the admiral in briefing room 6B." He
clicked it
  off. "Whatever we know about their work, you'll
  know. I just hope that's enough."
  "So do I. You and the Enterprise can Icave
  Akkalla any time you want. But I can't,
Admiral
  Kirk. This is my home, and the Collegium's
been
  my whole life. Whatever's going on there, we have
  to beat it or it's going to beat us."
  "You're right about one thing this ship can
  leave Akkalla whenever I give the order. But
I
  won't do it until I find out what's happened
to my
  two officers and those three scientists."
  "Maybe we've just stumbled onto that common
  cause."
  The hatch swished open, and Lieutenant
Maybri
  rushed in, skidding to a stop as she took in the
  unexpected scene Admiral Kirk hosting some
  sort of tea party. "Sir?"
  "Ah, Lieutenant Maybri, this is Llissa
Kkayn,
  preceptor of the Akkallan Collegium."
  "Preceptor."
  "When my two officers turned up missing, she
  stepped in and took charge of evaluating the
  Federation science outpost." He noticed that the
  young officer was still standing stiffly, and he
  motioned to a chair. "Lieutenant, what's the
status
  on that report?"
  "The preliminary report's done, sir. I
wanted to
  ask Dr. McPhillips and her staff a few

  questions and get some fill-in data before going to
  the final. That's when, well, we found the outpost
  the way it is now."
  "I'd like Preceptor Kkayn to see the
report."
  "Here?" Maybri nodded toward the computer
  console built into the end of the table.
  "Here." Kirk pushed his chair back.
"Preceptor,
  if you'll move down to the computer his
  The Akkallan sat in the end chair as Maybri
and
  Kirk stood behind her.
  "Computer on," Maybri said.
  "Working," the terminal replied.
  "This is Lieutenant Seena Maybri,
requesting
  access to work file EVAL'-ONE-DOUBLE-A.
Verify
  security voice lock."

  Console lights blinked in code sequence.
"Serif
  ed. Access approved. his
  "Display preliminary report
draft." As the first
  words of the report flashed onto the screen,
Kirk
  leaned forward.
  "If you don't mind, I'm going to read with you,"
  he said. "This is my first time seeing this report.
  And I'd like you to stick around, lieutenant, just
  in case we have any questions."
  "Aye, sir."
  They skimmed the dossier with hardly a
  comment until they reached the paragraph
  headed New Life Form. After descending into a
  progressively deeper slouch, Kkayn sat
upright as
  if she'd been jolted by an electrical charge
and
  gaped at the screen. With suddenly intensified
  interest, she studied every word, backtracking and
  rereading sections like she was trying to commit
  them to memory, mumbling repetitively all the
  while: "This is amazing . . . I just don't
believe it
  . . ."
  Finally, she swiveled away from the computer.
  "How long have you known about this suspected
  new life form?"
  Kirk nibbled on his lip. "McPhillips
mentioned
  it when we first met with her a couple of days
  ago. But we didn't know any details.
Maybri,
  where did you get all this extra background?"
  "From their files, sir. At first, I wasn't
sure how
  much bearing it had on the evaluation. But they
  kept shoving me in that direction, so I really
dug
  into it. Even though they don't have hard proof,
  what they did have was enough to convince me it
  was important, maybe more important than
  anything else they've done since they came to
  Akkalla."
  Llissa Kkayn turned somber. "We never
  discussed this with your scientists. It never came
  up in the three meetings we had."
  "I know that," said Kirk.
  "Then how did they find out?"
  Maybri's ear tips curled inquisitively.
"I don't
  understand. What do you mean, how did they
find
  out? How did they find out what?"
  "About our secret work."
  "Your secret work?" said Kirk.
  "It's a long story, but for quite some time
  Akkallan scientists have been exploring the
  possibility that there's a

  mysterious life form in our oceans. Damn! Why
  didn't Dr. McPhillips and her people ever
talk to
  us about this?"
  "They wanted to, but they were led to believe
  you Collegium scientists resented their just being
  on your planet."
  "What gave them that idea?"
  "What else were they supposed to think, with all
  the obstacles you put in the way of building a
  strong cooperative relationship?"
  "Obstacles his
  "Obstacles requiring a detailed agenda in
  advance, then canceling outright his
  "They did that, not us his
  Kirk and Llissa fell silent as they
belatedly
  realized what should have been evident before.
  Kirk gave himself a mental kick for losing his
  sense of perspective. "Who told you
McPhillips
  wanted agendas?"
  Her mouth set in a grim line, Llissa shook
her
  head. "The government science office the buffer
  between us and the Federation outpost."
  Kirk nodded. "And unless I'm already senile,
  they're the same people who told McPhillips you
  were being obstinate."
  "I think we've finally settled our differences,
  Admiral.. The question is, is it too late to do
  anything about it?"
  "As my science officer is fond of saying, there
  are always possibilities. Especially now that
we
  can stop fighting each other and pool our
  resources."
  "That may not be so easy." Llissa paced near
the
  computer. "This fake government broadcast today
  has really split the Collegium Council.
The only
  hope I have of pulling them back together is to
  prove that your outpost was working on the same
  suspicions we were."
  Maybri tilted her head. "Isn't this report
enough
  for that?"
  "I wish I could say yes. But I'm just not
sure. If
  we could get some harder data, some maps, some
  artifacts his
  "Maybe we can," Maybri said. "Sir, we
didn't
  have enough time to search every corner of the
  lab. Let me go back."
  "That suggestion doesn't thrill me,
lieutenant."

  "But," Llissa interjected, "as Dr.
McCoy would
  say, it is logical."
  Maybri blinked in confusion. "As . . . Dr.
McCoy
  would say?"
  "It's a long story, lieutenant." Kirk
stood. "As
  for going back to the lab, we'll go with you."
  The landing party beamed into the deserted
  science lab. Kirk sent Santana and
Vlastikovich
  outside on patrol, while Uhura attempted
to crack
  the lab's secure computer memory banks. Then
  he, Maybri, and Llissa split up to comb the
place
  for more physical evidence. They searched every-
  where, sought out secret caches, pried up
  floorboards, but their efforts proved futile.
  Until Maybri's silky voice sang out:
"Bones!"
  Kirk and Kkayn found her wedged into a tiny
  space beneath a sink.
  "Uh, I could use a little help getting out of
here."
  Only her boots stuck out, and Kirk grasped
her
  ankles, maneuvering carefully, inching her out of
  a long storage cabinet under a work counter.
  Once freed, she proudly displayed her
treasure: a
  pair of brown bones in a protective
wrap.
  Kirk helped her up. "Those must be the ones
  McPhillips told us about."
  With care tender enough for saints' relics, Llissa
  pulled back a corner of the wrapping. "They
look
  like the ones we have. We figured them to be
  about nine thousand years old."
  Kirk frowned. "But McPhillips told us
these
  were only ten years old."
  "Then it should be interesting to get these back
  to Collegium and compare."
  "At the risk of offending you, preceptor,
we'll
  probably get a more accurate dating with the
  equipment aboard the Enterprise. his
  "That may be true, but my researchers should
  have the first look. If they believe these are
  authentic, no matter how old, that'll give you
the
  credibility we'll need for me to persuade my
  council to join forces with you."
  They were interrupted by the insistent beep of
  Kirk's communicator. He flipped
it open. "Kirk
  here."

  "Santana, sir." The security guard's
voice was
  low and urgent. "A couple of boats just pulled
in.
  They look like military boats his
  "Take cover and beam up now. Kirk out." He
  dialed a new frequency. "Everybody pack
up. Kirk
  to Enterprise stand by to beam up landing
  party his
  McCoy cradled a bone in his long fingers as he
  hunched over the table in the main briefing room.
  Kirk, Maybri, and Preceptor Kkayn
listened to his
  conclusions.
  "They're from a creature dead about ten years,
  no sign of unusual disease or fractures,
at least in
  these two bones. Can't very well speak for the rest
  of the skeleton, wherever it may be. I'd say the
  owner of these lived in the ocean and died there,
  too. As for what the owner was, well,
I really
  couldn't even guess, beyond the probability that it
  was mammalian."
  "Doctor," said Llissa, "how much do you think
  you could tell by comparing these bones with
  others that I think are similar?"
  "Well, that's hard to say. I s'pose we could
tell
  if they came from the same kind of animal,
  whether they were comparable in age, that sort of
  thing."
  "What about comparing them to the physiology
  of a living Akkallan?"
  "I don't have any data on Akkallans."
  "But you have a living Akkallan me. I'm a
  healthy, typical Akkallan female."
  "Would that be worth doing, Bones?" asked Kirk.
  "Well, sure it would, Jim. First stop in
  comparative anatomy is having something to
  compare to. I won't even charge you for the office
  visit, preceptor."
  The physical didn't take long McCoy's
  scanners saw to that. Once the computer had
  digested the results, Kirk and Maybri
reconvened
  in the doctor's office, where McCoy displayed
an
  assortment of charts, cross-sectional scans,
and
  diagrams on the wall screen over his desk.
  "The artwork's great, Bones, but what does it
  mean?" said Kirk.
  The ship's surgeon hefted one of the sample
  bones. "Well, I could switch this with
Llissa's
  tibia his
  Kirk raised an eyebrow. "First-name basis?"

  "Well," Llissa said, "once a man's
scanned your
  innards, you might as well dispense with
  formalities."
  "Okay. What about her tibia?"
  "I could replace it with this bone, and she'd
  never know the difference, except for this one
  being a little longer than hers. Joint structure's
  identical."
  "Isn't that odd for a bone that's from an
  unidentified creature you say lived in the
ocean?"
  "In a word, yes. Can I explain it? No not
yet,
  anyway."
  "Now that we're on the same side, it's time I
  filled you in on all the pertinent background,"
  Llissa said.
  Kirk rubbed his hands together. "Does it clear
  any of this up, or does it add to the confusion?"
  "Both."
  "I was afraid of that," McCoy said sourly.
  "Some of our scientists believe this new life
  form is actually something very ancient,
  something we never knew for sure was real. Until
  the first evidence was collected, oh, maybe
twenty
  years ago, the common belief was that these
  things were mythical. They were called Wwafida."
  "And now?" Kirk asked.
  "Now, a lot of us believe they once existed.
We
  think our nine-thousand-year-old fossils prove
  that."
  Kirk balanced the tibia in his palm. "But this
  isn't a fossil. This is a contemporary
bone."
  "Right," Llissa said, her voice rising in
  excitement. "And if we can match this to the
  fossils, that could be what we need to prove these
  creatures are still alive today."
  Keeping the bone in his hand, Kirk began to
  pace. "This is getting more complicated by the
  minute... but it's not getting us any conclusive
  answers to anything! What is so controversial
  about this mysterious, possibly mythical creature
  that anybody who knows anything about it gets
  targeted for destruction?"
  Llissa On hands through her hair, releasing a
  clasp and letting her dark tresses flow over
her
  shoulders. ""The debate over the existence of the
  Wwafida is the cause of the state of war between
  Akkalla and Chorym."
  McCoy whistled in disbelief. "Now we're
getting
  somewhere."
  "Keep explaining," Kirk said.
  "Some of us believed these creatures may be
  intelligent.

  Those who did wanted the Chorymi
harvest ships
  to stop working until we could figure out, one, did
  these creatures exist, and, two, were they sentient
  beings. Because if they were really out in the seas
  swimming free, then their lives were endangered
  by every harvest."
  "Was the Collegium part of that group
  demanding a halt to the harvests?" Kirk asked.
  "Some of our scientists were, along with some
  independent scientists and politicians."
  McCoy took the bone back from Kirk and
  wrapped it with the other one. "I bet that's where
  the Cape Alliance came in."
  "The Alliance has been around for years, but
  when the Collegium didn't support their stand
  against the harvests, that's when they turned really
  radical and started disrupting the harvests by
  actually going out in boats."
  "What did the Chorymi do?" said Kirk.
  "At first, they pulled up in a hurry whenever
any
  surface vessels were in a harvest zone. After
all,
  the harvests were part of a treaty with us, and the
  Chorymi appealed to our government to get
the
  Alliance to stop interfering with legal harvest
  work. So the Alliance went underground, and the
  Publican got the Synod to vote for sweeping
  military powers to crush the Alliance."
  "Obviously," McCoy said, "it hasn't
worked."
  Llissa shook her head sadly. "No, it
hasn't. And
  everything's been unraveling for the past year or
  so. The Paladins and the Grolian Guard have
  more and more power, and under Vvox and
  Hhayd they abuse it. The Chorymi gave up
on
  Akkalla ever abiding by the treaty, and they
  started raiding our seas whenever they felt like it.
  There's nothing the Paladins can do to stop them,
  and they don't share what they take with us
  anymore." There was a catch in her voice, and
she
  took a deep breath, trying to hold on to her
  composure. "The Cape Alliance is crazier
than
  ever, and now my Collegium's practically under
  siege, probably a step away from
all of us being
  arrested . . . and I don't know what to do about
  any of this."
  McCoy touched her arm, but she brushed the
  kindly gesture away, spinning to view her
  reflection off the viewscreen.
  "I'm sorry," she said with a desolate sigh.
"This is
  the

  first time I've strung all those disastrous events
  together in one sentence."
  Kirk shook his head. "There's something I don't
  get. Why is the harvest so important
to Chorym
  that they're willing to risk interplanetary war?"
  "Well, for one thing, there's not much risk.
  They're much more advanced than we are,
  technologically. If there's a war,
Akkalla's the
  battlefield and we'll lose it."
  "Advanced or not," McCoy said, "it seems like
  an awful lot of trouble to satisfy a yen for
  seafood."
  "Not if you've got no choice. More
than a
  century ago, the Chorymi ignored the fact that
  their planet's climate was drying out. They just
  went blithely along, plundering their own
  resources, in spite of the fact that deserts were
  advancing all over Chorym. It reached a stage
  where they were desperate, and our oceans
  promised salvation. Oh, they'd had
interplanetary
  travel for a long time, and we traded back and
  forth. But what they proposed went way beyond
  all that. They presented the idea of building
fleets
  of flying harvest ships. Not only would they split
  the catch with us, they'd also pay us with the only
  resource they had left in any abundance."
  "What was that?" asked Kirk.
  "It happened to be something we
  needed rhipileum. It's an energy ore. We
have
  such a small land mass on Akkalla, we
don't have
  a lot of mineral wealth that's readily accessible.
  So we stumbled along with lagging industrial
  development. But Chorym's
rhipileum was the
  missing key to our future. Our standard of living
  jumped ahead at the speed of light, it seemed.
  We advanced more in the last hundred years than
  in the previous five hundred. So you can see that
  it wasn't the popular thing to do, raising
difficult
  questions that might put an end to all that."
  "But the questions have already been raised,"
  Kirk said. "Akkalla's not going to be able
to run
  away without answering them."
  Llissa nodded, sad resignation in her eyes.
"I
  suppose I've always known that. But it's only in
  the last few days that I've really accepted it.
The
  answers might destroy Akkallan society as
we
  know it, but that's happening already anyway. If
  we have to lose everything we've built, I'd rather
  know it was for the right reasons."
  1 1 g
  Llissa took a deep breath. "We have to know
if
  these creatures are real and if they're
intelligent.
  And if they are, we'll use the truth to appeal
to
  the people of Akkalla and Chorym. We may have
  to take our case all the way to the Federation
  Council, and we'll need the weight of outside
  authority to win. Admiral Kirk, will you help
us?"

  Chapter Six
  KIRK STOOD BEHIND the transporter console,
  fingers cupped over the control lever. "I'll
give
  you an answer the hour."
  "And I'll work on softening resistance at my
  end," Llissa said, taking her position on the
  platform. She managed a wry half-smile.
"I never
  thought I'd hear myself say this, but you may be
  our only hope. Now, what is that word?"
  "Energize."
  "Right. Energize."
  His hand moved forward, and the unit hummed
  to maximum power. Preceptor Kkayn
beamed
  home to face her own set of consequences.
  Returning to his cabin, Kirk summoned
McCoy,
  Scott Uhura, Sulu, and Maybri, filling
the office
  cubicle. The scent from a fresh pot of coffee
  successfully tempted everyone into taking a
  cup except Maybri, who ordered hot
chocolate
  from the food synthesiser, eliciting a smirk from
  Sulu.
  "I wish Spock was here," Kirk said.
  McCoy raised an indignant eyebrow.
"What're
  we, chopped liver? And besides, we wouldn't have
  room for him."
  "You're right, Bones. And you're not chopped
  liver."
  "I wish he was here, too," McCoy relented.
  "That confounded logic does come in handy at
  certain times."
  "Well, Preceptor Kkayn seems to have got
the
  impression you're a logical man,
McCoy. Analysis,
  please?"
  "All right, but don't expect me to quote the
  odds. It comes down to this we don't have any
  choice. We have to help Llissa."

  "That's a statement," Kirk said. "I asked for
  analysis."
  "Okay. Helping Uissa prove these
Wwafida are
  real may be the only way to pressure the
Akkallan
  government, and that may be the only way to
  spring the science team. On top of that, it's the
  right thing to do."
  "What about Mr. Spock and Chekov?" Sulu
said.
  "How does this affect our search?"
  Kirk nodded. "Relevant question. Opinions?"
  "Well, sir," Maybri began, "it may
help the
  search. Cooperating with the Collegium may tie
  us into new sources of information."
  "Besides," McCoy snapped, "I don't think
  offending the Akkallan government is
going to
  make one damn bit of difference."
  Kirk turned to his chief engineer. "Your
analysis
  of the Chorymi vessels, Mr. Scott. Do they
pose
  any military danger to us?"
  "Not unless they ram us, sir."
  "Uhura, what about the classified data you got
  from the science outpost?"
  "Still descrambling it, Admiral. It's going
on
  simultan tilde ous feed to the science department
  computer. And it'll be ready to share with the
  Collegium, if you give the order."
  "Good. What about the Prime Directive? Would
  we be violating it by helping the Collegium
prove
  this life form exists?"
  "How would that be interfering with the normal
  evolution of Akkallan life and society?"
McCoy
  said. "If anything, the government's doing that by
  obstructing the nor mat course of scientific
  exploration."
  "Aye, sir," Scott added. "You'd just be
settin"
  things ""rights."
  In turn, each officer nodded as Kirk looked
  around the room. "Let the chips fall where they
  may," McCoy said.
  "Then that's it. Thank you. Return to your
posts."
  Everyone left but Dr. McCoy. "Waste of
time,
  Jim."
  Kirk responded with a noncommittal shrug.
  "You already had your mind made up."
  "Nothing wrong with a consensus."
  "You turning conservative in your old age?"
  Kirk bristled. "Tricky situations require
cautious
  approaches."

  On his way to the door, McCoy paused for a
  glance over his shoulder. "Just so long as caution
  doesn't evolve into paralysis."
  The door hissed shut behind him, leaving Kirk
  alone. He sat at his desk and swiveledthe
  intercom screen toward him. "Kirk
to bridge.
  Commander Uhura, get me a channel to the
  Publican. Pipe it down here to my quarters."
  The communications officer nodded. "Aye, sir. his
  Her face faded from the screen.
  As he waited, he thought about McCoy's
  remark. Am I getting old and cautious?
Years ago,
  would I have done this any differently? Am I
less
  bold or more wily? I'd like to think I've
learned a
  few more tricks over the years. Or have I just
  learned to sidestep confrontations"...lt's results
that
  count isn't it, McCoy? Damn you where the
hell
  are you when I want to argue with you? Or do I
  want to argue . . . had my chance before you
  walked out that door. Am I smart enough to know
  I don't have tonight every time someone throws
  down a gauntlet, or just too tired to be able
to?
  "Bridge to Admiral Kirk. was Uhura
appeared on the
  viewer.
  "Go ahead, commander."
  "Uh, it's not the Publican, sir. his
  Kirk scowled. He wasn't surprised.
"Vvox?"
  "Aye, sir."
  "All right." He squared his shoulders as the
  image onscreen changed to the Akkallan
brigadier
  in what Kirk guessed to be her Citadel
office. The
  wall behind her bore an impressive display of
  martial cutlery. "Brigadier Vvox, I
asked to speak
  to the Publican."
  "He's unable to talk to you, AdmiraLike He's
  occupied with the current crisis. I've been
given full
  authority to represent Akkalla in
diplomatic
  matters."
  Kirk stifled the urge to cut the transmission
  right then and there. "Then I'll make this as brief
  as possible. Have you found our missing
  shuttlecraft?"
  "No. No sign of it. I'm sorry to have
to conclude
  that it's probably at the bottom of the ocean."
  Out of reflex, Kirk felt his teeth gritting.
"Are
  you continuing to look?"
  "Our military resources are required for more
  pressing matters. Was there anything else?"
  "We request permission to start our own search."

  "Permission denied."
  "On behalf of the Federation, I'm appealing to
  you to ease up on your crackdown on the
  scientists of the Collegium."
  A flash of anger sparked in Vvox's eyes.
"Our
  internal affairs are no concern of yours. his
  "They are when they endanger people I'm
  responsible for.",
  "What people?"
  "The scientists from the outpost and my missing
  crew members."
  "We searchedforyour crew members. A complete
  report on our efforts is being written up.
I've certif ed it myself, and a copy will be
waiting for you if you'd
  care to pick it up. As for the science outpost, those
  researchers were taken prisoner by the renegades
  from the Collegium. The only way we can hope
to
  liberate them is to crush the movement to overthrow
  the Akkallan government. And that's what we're
  doing, Kirk. If we Jind any of your missing
people,
  and they're stiRather alive, they'll be returned to you
as
  soon as we're satisfied they're not involved in
crimes
  against the state. his
  "And what if you decide they were involved in
  alleged crimes?"
  "They'll be tried and if they're found guilty,
it'll
  be up to the Synod to decide their sentence. They
  could be executed his
  "Now just a minute, brigadier, that would be a
  serious breech of "t
  Vvox interrupted. "That wouldn't be a breech of
  anything Admiral. You know as well as I do that
it's
  standard practice for offworlders to be subject to the
  laws of whatever planet they happen to be on."
  "Is that your final position?"
  "Yes, it is."
  "Then you leave me no choice but to file an
  official diplomatic protest with your government
  and the Federation Council. You and your
  Publican better be prepared to take the brunt
of
  Federation sanctions."
  "Good-bye, Admiral Kirk."
  And Vvox's image abruptly went to black,
  leaving Kirk sputtering, without even having had
  the satisfaction of terminating the argument from
  his end. Before he could

  turn down the flame under his simmering anger,
  an intense Sulu appeared on the desktop
screen.
  "Sir, we've found something his
  "The Cousteau?"
  "I think so. Greenberger'sconfirming now. his
  "On my way up. Kirk out."
  By the time he reached the bridge, a schematic
  of the planet's surface was already
displayed on
  the main viewscreen. Sulu and Ensign
  Greenberger huddled at Spock's science station,
  and Kirk joined them there.
  Sulu pointed at the map on the viewer. "There,
  Admiral that coastal island."
  Kirk squinted at a flashing pinpoint on the
  ocean side of a fair-sized island off the
continent's
  southwest shore. "What exactly have we found?"
  he asked carefully.
  "The Cousteau, was Greenberger answered. "As far
  as I can tell from sensor readings, she's washed
  up on the beach, completely nonfunctional, no
  power readings at all."
  "Any signs of life?"
  "Just indigenous flora and fauna, sir," the young
  science officer said. "No humanoids nearby."
  "What about on the rest of the island?"
  "Still scanning, sir. There are some larger
  primates in the jungle that show up at first glance
  as very similar to humanoid. That slows the
  process down a bit."
  Kirk sat in the command chair, hands clasped.
  "At least we've got a focus for the
search. Direct
  all scanners to bear on that island."
  "Already done that, sir."
  "Good, Ensign Greenberger. You've earned
  your pay for the week. Mr. Sulu, are you
familiar
  with the terrain?"
  "As much as possible from sensor sweeps, sir."
  "That'll have to do. Get a detailed
  topographical record from Greenberger and
equip
  a landing party you, two security guards, and Dr.
  Chapel, in case you find survivors in need of
  medical care."
  The four starship officers materialised on the
  beach of Shiluzeya, about fifty meters from the
  shuttle wreck. Under threatening, iron-grey
skies,
  Sulu led them toward the crap,

  taking out his communicator as he walked.
  "Landing party to Enterprise."
  "Kirk here. Report, Sulu."
  "She took quite a beating, Admiral." The
  landing party circled the hulk, with one of the
  security guards backing off to stand watch and the
  other forcing the side hatch open and climbing
  inside. Chapel followed him in.
  Sulu ran a hand over a scorched scar on the
  rear quarter panel. "It looks like they were
  attacked."
  "They must 'verun into a Chorymi harvestfleel that
  didn't want spectators."
  "That'd be my guess, sir. We'll take
careful
  tricorder readings and some samples of the ship's
  skin for analysis see just what we're up against.
  From the looks of it, they must've been able to
  make a controlled emergency landing. The crash
  damage itself doesn't look that bad."
  Christine Chapel and the security guard jumped
  down from the shuttle, and she flipped open her
  own communicator. "Admiral, Chapel here."
  "Report, doctor."
  "We searched the inside of the ship, and there's
  no sign of injury no blood or used first-aid
  equipment."
  "Does it look like they abandoned ship in an
  orderly fashion?"
  "I'd say so, sir," Chapel
replied. "One of the life
  rafts is missing, and medical and survival
gear is
  gone, too."
  "Admiral," Sulu interrupted, "it looks like
she
  took on water, but never enough to sink. The tide
  must've pushed her here. Tell Greenberger to
  chart the speed and direction of all the currents
  that reach this island. In case the black box
  doesn't have complete data, then we'll at least
be
  able to estimate where they originally landed.
  Anything else we should search while we're here?"
  "Negative, commander. Greenberger hasn't
turned
  up anything on concentrated sensor scans of your
  area. Just make complete tricorder readings,
get the
  black box, and beam up as quickly as possible."
  Kirk pivoted his seat to face McCoy leaning
on
  the railing behind him. "If it's not bad news, then
  it's good news."
  McCoy summoned an unconvincing
half-smile.
  "At least

  we know they were alive when they landed.
  Knowing Spock and Chekov, I'd say that's as
  good as a guarantee that they're still alive . . .
  somewhere."
  "Admiral," Uhura said, "Preceptor
Kkayn is
  contacting
  us."
  "Onscreen,-mander." Kirk and McCoy both
  faced the small viewer above the communications
  console as Llissa's face appeared.
  "Good news, was she said. "My council has
invited
  you here to meet with them. And this gives me a
  chance to return the Javor to you and Leonard and
  show you around my territory. his
  Shaded by dappled patterns from shafts of light
  flowing through the skylight, Llissa waited for
Kirk
  and McCoy in the rotunda of the library wing.
She
  scuffed a toe in the thick nap of the
blue
  carpeting, then looked up as she heard the sound
  of transporter beams and saw two shimmering
  silhouettes take shape.
  "Admiral Leonard welcome
to Collegium."
  "Thank you," said Kirk.
  McCoy didn't reply; he was occupied
craning his
  neck for a look around the high dome, following
  the beams of light from vaulted ceiling to floor.
  "Wow . . . this looks like some kind of
cathedral."
  "In a way, I guess it is," Llissa
said. "A cathedral
  to learning and science, dedicated to the future.
  Come this way."
  They followed her through the rotunda and
  down a short hallway leading to the conference
  chamber. Pushing open the heavy, carved-relief
  doors, she motioned them in ahead of her, to be
  greeted by faces with varied reactions: Ttindel
and
  Ossage impassive; Eddran openly
hostile; Nniko
  and Rraitine hopeful, and Ssuramaya
radiant.
  "My fellow Guides," Llissa announced,
"I present
  Admiral James Kirk and Dr. Leonard
McCoy from
  the starship Enterprise, two men who've proved
to
  me that sometimes you really can trust
  offworlders."
  Later, Llissa walked between Kirk and
McCoy
  down the paneled gallery, with paintings arranged
  on both walls. "I hope that wasn't too
painful," she
  said.

  "Well," McCoy drawled, "it could've been
worse.
  Nobody chucked any rotten fruit at us."
  "Under the circumstances," Kirk offered, "I
guess
  it balanced out. The positive group seemed
  warmer than the negative group was cold."
  Kirk stopped and turned to view the
  paintings serious faces staring down from the
  past and portraits of an island sanctuary
growing
  to greatness with the passage of years.
  "This is our rogues" gallery," Llissa
said. "I spend
  a lot of quiet time alone here, sort of communing
  with the ghosts who founded this place and built
  it into something singular."
  There were no young visages here, just faces
  worn and creased by work and trial, but seeing
  through the ages with eyes brightened by wisdom
  earned from the experiences of lives devoted to a
  cause. McCoy noticed that Llissa had
paused
  before one painting of a woman with silver-blond
  hair, regal bearing, and dusky, deep-set
eyes. The
  nameplate at the bottom of the frame said Kkirin
  Klcayn.
  "Your mother, Llissa?"
  She shook her head, her eyes wi/l. "My
  mother died when I was a girl. This is my
  grandmother. She was preceptor before me. Of all
  the people I've known in my life, no one
shaped
  me as much as she did."
  McCoy rested his hand on Llissa's shoulder.
  "She looks like she was a great lady."
  "Uh-huh. Probably the best preceptor in
  Collegium histo" ry. She presided over a
golden
  age here, and I'm presiding over the demise of
  everything she worked to preserve."
  With a gentle but insistent touch, McCoy turned
  her so they faced each other. "If she was the
  woman you jwt described, she'd know you were
  fighting to do just what she did. We haven't
  known you very long, but I'm a damn good judge
  of character right, Jim?"
  "Right, Bones."
  "And I know you are one formidable lady,
  Llissa. You got us into this, and that was no easy
  task. And there's something you should know
  about me and Jim Kirk."
  Llissa swallowed and spoke in a hoarse
whisper.
  "What's that?"
  "We don't let our friends down, and we don't
  like to lose. Now, if that's a window over
there,
  and not a painting his

  "It's a window."
  was then we're witnessing something miraculous
  on this planet of yours sunshine. Let's go out
  and enjoy it. You can show us the campus."
  McCoy linked arms with her and guided her
  toward the door at the end of the gallery, with
  Kirk tagging along behind.
  Shadows frolicked on the forest floor as
  sunbeams danced through leaves sighing in the
  breeze. "Y'know, this place isn't so
depressing
  when it's not ra*'," McCoy grinned, still arm in
  arm with Llissa, forcing Kirk to follow them on
  the grassy path.
  "We don't think it's depressing when it
rains,"
  Llissa said. "Rain is part of the cycle of
life on
  Akkalla. Without it we wouldn't be here."
  "Don't get me wrong, Llissa it's part of
my
  planet's life-cycle too. But to us,
rain conjures up
  songs of lost love and thoughts of dreams
  unfulfilled."
  "Yow people are a morbid lot."
  "Sometimes."
  The path routed them to a clearing where a low
  building of rough-hewn wood stood. It appeared
  both old and new at the same time, a dichotomy
  explained when Llissa told her guests this was the
  first Collegium building, constructed by hand five
  hundred years before, now restored to original
  condition and serving as a museum and study
  center, preserving the story of the founders along
  with their handiwork. She took them inside to
  view shelves of old books and display cases
  containing documents, tools, and articles from
  daily life. One special case held a
single yellowing
  scroll, neatly hand-penned in old Akkallan,
with
  a dozen signatures scrawled at the bottom.
  "Wbat's this?" McCoy asked, peering through
  the protect five shield over it.
  "That's the Charter Compact I told you about."
  "Oh, right, the agreement signed by the
  warlords establishing this island as an educational
  sanctuary," McCoy said, reciting like a proud
  schoolboy.
  "Funny," Llissa said bitterly, "how easy
it is for
  people to ignore timeless principles when they
  don't serve their needs."

  Kirk looked out a window with a clear view
  down to the bay, and Uissa joined him, her mood
  brightening.
  "Come outside. I'll show you my favorite
place
  on the entire island."
  With Kirk and McCoy in tow, Llissa left
the
  museum and descended the hill to the beach,
  facing the mainland and the mouth of a river
  emptying into the harbor.
  "That's the Bboun River. When I was a little
  girl, if nobody could find me anywhere else,
my
  grandmother knew to look for me here. She was
  the one who first showed me this spot and told
  me about the Bboun, how it begins in the
  Ppaidian Mountains all the way on the other
side
  of the continent, just a tiny stream, barely a
  trickle. And by the time it reaches Havensbay
it's
  a mighty river. She told me that's what
Collegium
  was like starting with a trickle of knowledge all
  those years ago, becoming broader and deeper as
  it flows toward the future. I just hope his
  She was interrupted by shouts from the top of
  the hill and turned to see Mma.i running down
  from the museum.
  "Llissa! Uissa! It's happened!" The
girl stumbled
  into Llissa's arms, chest heaving as she tried to
  catch her breath. fudging by the brambles and
  leaves tangled in her hair and the scrapes on
her
  face and hands, Mma.i had rushed headlong
  directly through the most dense part of the woods.
  "What is it, Mma.i? What's happened?"
  "Martial law," she gasped, clutching at a
stab of
  pain in her side, nearly doubling over.
She
  allowed McCoy to ease her down to the ground,
  and her breathing calmed a bit.
  "First-stage martial law?" Llissa said.
  Mma.i nodded. "Message . . . message from
  Hhayd . . . to you. You have to go . . . go back.
  Need you now!"
  "You two go up," McCoy said. "I'll help
her
  back. We'll be right behind you. Jim, if you have
  to leave without me, don't worry. I've got
my
  communicator."
  Without another word or a moment to waste,
  Llissa and Kirk rushed up the hill and through the
  woods. When they reached the main library
  building, they found the members of the Guide
  Council in the conference chamber. Llissa did a
  mental count and came up one short.
  "Where's Eddran?"
  Ssuramaya spat a curse. "He fled like the
little
  coward he is."

  "Exactly what's going on? Where's
Hhayd's
  message?,"
  Rraitine handed her a paper with the
  transcription: First-stage martial law has
been
  declared this day, by order of Publican Abben
  Ffaridor. Because of suspected complicity in
terrorist
  actions endangering the duly elected government of
  Akkalla, Guides and students of the
Collegium
  should consider themselves detained pending arrival
  of Paladin and Grolian Guard forces to begin
  questioning. At that time, official arrests may be
  made. No Collegium personnel are to leave
Ffeeland
  . . .
  Llissa crushed the paper into a ball and hurled
  it across the room. "Those bastards. Does anyone
  else know?"
  Leaning on his cane, Nniko shook his head.
"We
  didn't want to cause a panic."
  "We can start beaming your people up to the
  Enterprise, was Kirk said.
  "Admiral, we have two thousand teachers and
  students here. Hhayd's forces are probably
already
  on their way. There's no way we can organise
an
  evacuation," Llissa said, her fury darkened to
  sorrow.
  "There's got to be a way to get some of you to
  safety."
  "How would we choose? Ssuramaya, make the
  announcement calmly. Please don't incite a
riot.
  Tell everyone to report to their rooms and stay
  there until they hear from me."
  Ssuramaya's anger smoldered in her eyes, but
  her voice was docile. "Yes, Llissa." As
she left,
  McCoy and a limping Mma.i entered.
  "Llissa, we discussed this before you came in,"
  Nniko rumbled. "You can't stay here. Go with
  Kirk."
  She stared at the old man. "I have to stay. I'm
  responsible for this place. When it ends, I have
to
  be here for that ending."
  "But we don't know that this is an ending. They
  can take us all away, but I can't believe they
would
  destroy Collegium itself. No government can
last
  long if it neglects the physical realities
of its world. Akkalla will always need science and
education if
  it's to survive."
  "Maybe this government doesn't believe that
  anymore, Nniko. You're counting on
rationality.
  That's been a very rare commodity on Akkalla
  lately."
  "All right," Nniko said, rapping his walking
stick
  on the

  table for emphasis. "Say the worst happens.
Say
  they put a torch to this place and burn it to the
  ground. Nothing left but ashes. That's a sure
  signal that this tyranny can't last. Someone who
  remembers what went before has to survive to
  bring the past to life again, to save the world
from
  having to retrace the whole laborious trail of
  history."
  With fear filling her eyes, Llissa backed
away
  and answered with a vigorous shake of her head.
  "I can't do that."
  "Yes, you can," Rraitine said, her green eyes
  sparkling with a will to endure. "Some of us will
  escape this. Some will join the active resistance.
  Others will simply disappear, drifting to the
  corners of the continent, hiding in plain sight.
  And when the time is right, when the call comes,
  we'll answer it. We'll help you
to rebuild."
  "And that's only if events take us down the
  worst road, Llissa. Perhaps they won't perhaps
  this is a horror that we can fight . . .
overcome it,"
  Nniko said, his tone serene.
  Kirk and McCoy had been hovering on the
  fringe of the Collegium group, listening and
  observing. Now Kirk stepped forward. "We'll
help
  you fight it. My ship, my crew, and the
  Federation. But they're right, Llissa, someone
  from your side has to stay free to coordinate the
  resistance and guide us. It's your world to save.
  There's never any guarantee, but you haven't lost
  yet."
  Llissa turned uncertainly, looking at her
  colleagues. "How will you escape?"
  "We have the research subs," Ossage said, his
  sleepy eyes widening, caught up in the
crisis. "We
  can go up the Bboun, to the badlands."
  "And Freeland has beaches to escape from by
  raft," Ttindel added, hands folded across his
  bulging belly.
  "But rafts and subs how many of you can get
  away? And how will you choose who stays and
  who goes?"
  Nniko shrugged. "However many escape is
  better than none. And as to choosing who goes
  and who stays, we'll figure out how many spaces
  we have, and each of us will choose a share. We'll
  have no time for argument, and instant deadlines
  do wonders for simplifying a problem."
  Rraitine put her arm around Llissa's
shoulder.
  "But you have to leave now. Go to the starship."
  Ssuramaya hurried back into the chamber.
  "Hhayd's

  patrol cutters are coming. We can see them
  across the bay. Llissa, you've got to get away
from
  here."
  "We've already convinced her," Nniko said.
  "Haven't we?" His white-haired head lowered
  close to Llissa's face.
  The preceptor's lips twitched. "I guess
you have."
  "It's got to be now, Llissa," McCoy
said, his
  voice soft but insistent.
  She nodded, and Kirk snapped his
  communicator open. "Kirk to Enterprise.
Three to
  beam up."
  Llissa looked at her old friends. "I don't
know
  if we'll see each other again. There's so much I
  want to say to you his
  "No time to be verbose," Nniko
scolded. "Go,
  and don't think you're the lucky one. You'll have
  lots of work to do, all by yourself. Down here,
  we'll have others around for help. We'll be
  together again."
  As Kirk and McCoy had seen her do before,
  Llissa Kkayn assumed a regal stance.
"Mother Sea
  protect you all."
  "And you," the others replied in a murmured
  chorus.
  Kirk raised his communicator. "Beam us up,
Mr.
  Scott."
  With flat prows butting through the receding
  tide, four Paladin landing craft beached on the
  sandy shore of Few land. Vice Brigadier
Hhayd
  shouted an order, and a hundred well-armed
  troopers in grayblue fatigues and helmets
  clambered over the sides and down the front
  ramps. They formed into small patrol squads,
  standing at rest until their commandant waded
  ashore and faced them, a regimental dandy in
  polished jackboots and black leather
gloves, ascot
  tied at his throat, a pearl-handled dagger on his
  hip.
  "No weapons fired unless they look like they
  want a fight. My guess is they won't have the
  stomach for anything serious. When your leaders
  give the signal, fire over their heads first.
They're
  not soldiers like we are. They're probably
running
  all over in a panic right now. It's likely the
only
  danger to us is in being run over by fleeing
  academics." He chuckled at his own joke,
and a
  few of the troopers smirked. "We're here to
  subdue this island and secure it. The prisoners
  will be held here until the brigadier and the
  Publican decided what to do with them. Make this
  operation quick and neat Now, go his
  In purposeful cadence, the squads marched up the
  beach

  and through the woods. Hhayd took up a position
  in the middle, using his troopers as a
protective
  buffer.
  Once past the barrier forest, the Paladins
  fanned out to surround the campus buildings. And
  still no signs of Collegium's inhabitants,
only
  unnerving stillness that made Hhayd wary. Where
  are they?
  With a full squad primed for combat, Hhayd
  entered the main library, strutting through the
  rotunda to the conference chamber. He threw the
  doors open and found a group of Guides and
  students sitting calmly at the table and on the
  floor.
  "Scared rodents in a burrow," he sneered.
  "Who's in charge here?"
  Nniko raised a wizened hand in
  acknowledgment. "That's me, commandant."
  "Name?"
  "Nniko."
  "Where's the preceptor?"
  The old man shrugged with calculated
  innocence. "Must be here somewhere."
  With a swift swing of his arm, Hhayd slammed
  the butt of his weapon on the table,
causing more
  than a few other people to jump, induding a
  couple of his own troopers.
  The commandant spun on his heel and marched
  out of the chamber. "Keep them here," he barked
  over his shoulder. "I'll be back."
  Mma.i brushed her auburn hair out of her
  eyes and tilted her face up to Nniko's.
"Ssuramaya
  and Ossage got away with twenty on the subs,"
she
  whispered. "Thirty took the rafts."
  The painting had begun as a soothing seascape,
  rolling breakers caressing a peaceful beach in
airy
  shades of blue. But the more Abben Ffaridor
  dipped brush to palette, the more he found
  himself choosing colors that turned the picture
  dark and melancholy. A few beams of sunlight
  were overpowered by thunderhead clouds, while
  the waves grew to malevolent proportions,
  pounding the beach without mercy.
  Ffaridor had retreated to his studio to escape
  his blackening mood, hoping imagination would
  free him. Instead, the mood ruled,
forcing his
  hand to translate inner turmoil into

  tangible representation. He didn't notice
  Brigadier Vvox come into the studio.
  "Cheerful," she said.
  With a spasm of startlement, he spun around.
  "Oh, it's
  you."'9
  "Who else knows where to find you when you
  need to get away from problems?" She massaged
  his neck.
  "Have we done the right thing?"
  "We did what we had to do to preserve
Akkalla."
  He shook his head dubiously. "The Synod
doesn't
  agree with that assessment."
  "They have no grip on reality the way we do.
  What're they so mad about? We only declared a
  first-stage alert. The Synod hasn't been
dissolved.
  They're still part of the government. Let them try
  to come up with solutions instead of criticising
  everything we do!"
  Ffaridor held her hands. "Ijenna, I'm
surprised at
  you. Where's the calm, controlled adviser? I
don't
  need the hot-blooded soldier."
  "I'm sorry, Abben. But those idiots make
me
  furious."
  Choosing one finger at a time, he kissed her
  hands. "Don't let them. I'll handle them."
  After a few quiet moments, she muttered a
  curse. "Every time discussing the Synod makes me
  boil over, I forget what I really came
to tell you. I
  have great news."
  The Publicao's sad eyes opened with
  anticipation. "What?"
  "The interrogation of the terrorists we already
  have in custody paid off interrogations you didn't
  want conducted, my love," she admonished.
  "I had no objections to interrogation I prefer
  the word questioning I just didn't want there to be
  any torture. These are our own people, for sea's
  sake, not enemy soldiers."
  "That's where you're wrong They endanger
our
  way of life, they endanger Akkalla itself, and that
  makes them the enemy. And the methods we use
  aren't torture. They're simply . . .
persuasive."
  "Then tell me what you found out."
  "Enough to track down a renegade cadre on
  Shiluzeya. Our catch includes some very
special
  prisoners. l thought you should meet them."

  "Here? Now?"
  Vvox nodded. "They're downstairs. Take off
  your smock." She reached around to untie the
  knot, and he slipped his painter's apron off.
They
  hurried down from the parapet containing his
  studio and entered the reception room. There, in
  a corner, were six Grolian Guards circling
a pair
  of bedraggled men in black pants and tattered
  shirts, not Akkallan dress. Then Ffaridor
noticed
  the taller man had pointed ears. A Vulcan.
  "These are the two officers from the starship.
  There names are Spock and Chekov." An
arrogant
  smile danced on her lips. "They may prove
to be
  very useful to us."
  Ffaridor drew her aside. "I don't want
them
  tortured," he said, his voice low but firm.
  "They won't be hurt, but I have to be able to
  use all the tools we have to find out what we need
  to know. They're the commodities we'll need to
  deal with Kirk if he causes us any trouble.
You
  know how desperate he is to have them back.
  There's nothing like having what someone else
  wants to give you the upper hand."
  A young Tower guard strode into the reception
  hall, coming to parade stop with an echoing click
  of his heels. "Commandant Hhayd requests
  permission to enter."
  The Publican opened his mouth to answer, but
  Vvox spoke first. "Permission granted."
  Hhayd, who was waiting just out in the corridor,
  rushed in and snapped to respectful attention
  when he saw how many others were already there.
  With witnesses about, he'd have to abide by
  military protocol. "Commandant Hhayd
reporting,
  Publican Ffaridor." He cradled a
package protec-
  tively under one arm.
  "Yes, yes, Hhayd. Tell us what
happened."
  "Mission accomplished at Collegium."
  Vvox grinned, but Ffaridor's face
reflected a
  churning mixture of relief and anxiety.
  "Any resistance?" asked Brigadier Vvox.
  "Some." Hhayd was glad he could lie without
  blushing. "But we managed to take the island
  without bloodshed."
  "Very commendable, very commendable," said
  Ffaridor.
  "Did you capture Preceptor Kkayn?"
  Hhayd averted his gaze from hers for just an
  instant. "Uh, no. She was nowhere to be found.
  There's no way she

  could've escaped. She must not have been on the
  island when we landed. But she's separated
from
  all the people and facilities at Collegium.
Without
  it, she's got no power or influence. We
won't have
  to worry about her, Publican Ffaridor." He
placed
  his package on a lamp table and started to
  unwrap it.
  "What's that?" Ffaridor asked.
  "A special prize." He straightened and
held out
  three fossil bones, turned brown with age.
"These
  are the ones we needed to find. The ones they
  claim are from the Wwafida."
  The Publican gave a snort of contempt.
  "Wwafida are legends, nothing more, nothing
  more. Those are obviously fakes."
  "But they could still be used to undermine us.
  Scientific lies perpetrated by determined
frauds
  are the hardest of all to refute," Vvox said.
  "Destroy them, and the frauds have nothing to
  base their lies on."
  With an emphatic nod, Ffaridor waved
  Commandant Hhayd from the room. "Yes, yes,
  yes destroy them. Do it now."
  "Dismissed, commandant," Vvox said. "And I'll
  see you get a commendation for this mission."
  Publican Ffaridor clapped a hand on
Vvox's
  shoulder. "This is a great day for us, brigadier.
  We'll have to... properly note it later
on."
  "Yes, we will, sir. I'll see to it."
  He rubbed his hands together as he strolled
  back toward the new prisoners. "Now, what to do
  with these two . . ."
  "If I may speak," said Spock.
  "Yes, yes, I suppose so. Your name again?"
  "Commander Spock, first officer of the U.s.s.
  Enterprise. And, judging by your earlier comments,
  I deduce that the Enterprise is in fact
orbiting
  Akkalla. I request that you return us to our
vessel
  without delay, since we were on a sanctioned
  mission before being captured by your rebellious
  Cape Alliance. Your government is
required by
  law to do so."
  "Yes, yes, Commander Spock. We, uh, should
  like to accommodate your request, and we will at
  the earliest possible moment. But that moment is
  not yet at hand. You see, as you may have
  guessed, we are in the midst of a serious crisis
  OD Akkalla under attack from outside and

  inside. I'm afraid we're going to have to appeal
to
  you and your colleague for a bit of cooperation.
  Anything you can tell us about the Chorymi fleet
  that attacked you and the renegades who took
  you prisoner would be extremely helm ful. I
ask
  you this as the leader of all Akkalla."
  Spock's eyebrow lifted consideringly. "May
we
  contact our ship and inform our commanding
  officer that we are alive?"
  "We'll take care of that, commander. We've
  been in regular contact with Admiral Kirk
since
  he first discovered that you were missing. I know
  how concerned he and your shipmates are. I'll
  advise him of your condition myself and ask his
  permission to debrief you regarding your, uh,
  unfortunate adventures. Meanwhile, I hope
you'll
  accept my personal hospitality here at the
  Cloistered Tower. Brigadier Vvox, have these
  gentlemen shown to guest quarters where they
  can clean up. Once you're more comfortable,
  please allow me the honor of having you as my
  guests for dinner."
  "Very well," Spock said. "As long as you inform
  Admiral Kirk of our status immedately,
we accept
  your invitation."
  Vvox pointed to the soldier in charge of the
  Grolian Guard detail with Spock and
Chekov.
  "Trooper, escort the Publican's guests
to the north
  wing rooms. See that they have whatever they
  need to freshen up, including some new clothing."
  "Yes, brigadier." The guardsman glanced
at the
  starship officers. "This way, please."
  With an avuncular smile pasted to his face,
  Ffaridor watched them and the guards leave.
  Then he whirled on Vvox. "I know what to do
  with them," he said, his voice taut with the
  excitement of a man discovering a new route
  circumventing disaster.
  Vvox's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What
do
  you mean?"
  "I need a way to keep a restless Synod from
  boiling over and burning me badly. Martial
law
  threatens their power, and you know they'll stand
  for anything but that. It's not enough for me to
  claim that the Alliance terrorists and the Chorymi
  bandits are set to destroy Akkalla. Now I
can
  show them that the Federation is against us, too."

  "How?"
  "By presenting these two starship officers as
  offworld spies sent to work with the scientists and
  overthrow the government."
  "But the Synod isn't just going to sit there. The
  overlords'll want to ask questions. And I
don't
  think Commander Spock is going to stand in front
  of the Synod and admit that he's a spy."
  "Then we don't allow them to ask questions.
  From the moment we sent them the martial law
  declaration, the overlords've been demanding that
  I come down there and explain myself. So now I'll
  go, and we'll parade these two starship officers as
  mute evidence." The Publican began to pace,
  mumbling to himself. "Yes, yes, I see how to do
  it."
  The guest rooms were spacious, with furnishings
  spare but tasteful. Thick, ornately patterned
rugs
  and vivid tapestries on every wall were the only
  touches of opulence. Spock lay on the bed,
head
  propped on a pillow and fingers interlaced above
  his chest, engrossed in contemplating the state of
  seemingly friendly yet insistent custody in which
  he and Chekov currently found themselves. They
  had fallen into the hands of two groups squared
  off in ever more bitter struggle. Yet, in spite
of
  their distinctly adversarial stance, both
sides
  appeared similarly anxious to utilize a pair
of
  Starfleet personnel for strategic political
gain.
  On the surface, he and Chekov seemed better
  off under the protection of their latest
  benefactors. But logic dictated that such a
surface
  could not be self-supporting. It was more likely a
  single facet of a polyhedral figure, the
totality of
  which could not be viewed from any one side. He
  would have to explore it from many vantage
  points in order to maximise his chances of having
  sufficient familiarity with it to make informed
  choices. A knock on the door intruded on the
  process, and Spock sat up.
  "Come in."
  The door opened, and Chekov entered, dressed
  in simple but comfortable slacks and a pullover
  top. The Russian carried a tray with a
decanter of
  lavender liquid and a pair of cut-crystal
glasses.
  "They left this in my room, sir. I didn't
feel like
  drinking alone."

  "If you are asking me to join you in imbibing ?"
  Spock motioned him toward a high-backed
  armchair adjacent to the bed. "Thank you, Mr.
  Chekov."
  They each took a filled glass and Checkov
  raised his. "To freedom."
  "A reasonable dedication," Spock nodded.
  Chekov took a tentative sip of his drink, and
  grimaced. "This will never replace vodka." He
  swallowed a more robust swig. "Mr. Spock,
are we
  guests or still prisoners?"
  "That is exactly the question I was considering
  when you came in. Since we are not in fact
free to
  go, I would have to conclude that we do indeed
  remain prisoners of a sort."
  "Still, as prisons go, this one isn't bad," said
  Chekov, glancing around the room.
  "To creatures accustomed to liberty, all
  confinements, no matter how outwardly
  comfortable, eventually take on the harsher
  qualities of the most barren penitentiary."
  "Admiral Kirk would not let them hold us,
  especially since we have not committed any
  crime."
  "None that we are aware of. But the admiral
  may not be in a position to facilitate our
release.
  He may not even be aware of our presence here."
  "You think the Publican was Iying when he said
  he'd contact the ship?"
  "It is a possibility, lieutenant, one we
cannot
  discount until we have proof that word of our
  whereabouts has in fact been transmitted."
  Chekov drained his glass and refilled it. "1
guess
  we should know more about what's going to
  happen to us after they debrief us."
  "We must be careful what we say, Mr.
Chekov.
  We know very little about the factual background
  of contemporary events and conDicts here on
  Akkalla. We should avoid anything that might
  present the appearance of taking sides."
  There was a sharp rap in the door.
  "Come," Spock said as he and Chekov both
  stood and took a step forward. Brigadier
Jjenna
  Vvax swung the door halfway open.
  "The Publican asked me to see that you were
  comfortable and that you enjoyed dinner."
  "Everything is satisfactory," Spock
replied. "Except
  for

  the uncertainty about the length of our stay in
  your custo
  "Ah, yes that's the other thing I came up
to tell
  you. The Publican would like you to appear before
  our Continental Synod tomorrow morning."
  "For what purpose?"
  "Just to answer a few questions, nothing
  extensive. Then you'll come back here for a little
  chat with me and then you'll be on your way
  back to your starship. Will we have your
  cooperation?"
  "Affirmative," Spock said.
  "Excellent. Your escort will come get
you in the
  morning. Rest well."
  "It was really sweet of you to invite me here,
  Leonard." Llissa Kkayn bent over
to sniff a cluster
  of pink and purple magnolia blossoms,
petals
  blooming at their summer peak. Then she hugged
  herself and whirled like a delighted schoolgirl in
  an enchanted forest, revering in the splash of
  fragrances and colors swirling around her. "I
can't
  believe you've got something like this inside a
  starship!"
  McCoy watched her and couldn't help grinning.
  "Technically, this is the botany conservation and
  observation lab, but I just call it the park.
We've
  got it for two reasons: growing samples of
plants
  we find on different planets, and giving the
crew a
  place to sort of get back to nature, at least
a little
  bit."
  "And what are these called again?"
  "Magnolias."
  "What planet are they from?"
  "Earth as a matter of fact, they're from
  Dixieland, my home turf."
  "Dixieland . . . what an interesting name for a
city."
  "Uh, it's just a nickname . . . I'm actually
from a
  place called Georgia." He wondered how
much of
  Terran geography she really cared to hear. "And
  magnolias are really from somewhere else a place
  called Mississippi. But they're my
favorites
  anyway."
  Llissa ambled farther down the serpentine path.
  "This park seems so big. How do you have room
  for it?"
  "Well, it's not as big as it looks.
Creative layout
  and planting give the illusion of wide-open
spaces.
  Old-time
  141
  spaceships took along plants for some very sound
  scientific reasons not just for effect. They used
  up carbon dioxide and produced oxygen,
helped
  keep the air breathable."
  "I'll have to keep that in mind if we ever
  develop spaceflight on Akkalla."
  "Oh, I'm sure you will."
  Doubt clouded Llissa's dusky eyes. "Right
now,
  I wouldn't put a big wager on that."
  "Hey, what happened to that smile?"
  "Oh, Leonard, how can I smile knowing what's
  going on down there? l should be there, helping.
  What am I doing here, safe, while everyone
else's
  life's in danger his
  "You're here because this is the only way you
  really can help. Now, there's nothing wrong with
  feelin' a little guilty. Just don't let it get
the best
  of you, all right? l have to be getting back to
  sickbay. Got some work to do before l call it a
  night. C'mon, I'll bring you back to your
quarters."
  "I think I'd like to stay here a while. Am I
  allowed?"
  "Sure just don't get lost in the woods."
  ""Night."
  She watched him disappear around a bend in
  the path then turned and just wandered. After a
  while, she found a wooden bench and sat, closing
  her eyes and letting her other senses play among
  the scents and sounds.
  "Sleeping on park benches isn't allowed,
  preceptor."
  She looked up and saw Kirk smiling at her.
  "Have a seat, Admiral Kirk."
  "How did you find your way here? Let me
  guess McCoy."
  "How did you know?"
  "Well, as he constantly reminds me, he's just
an
  al" country doctor," Kirk said, imitating
his friend's
  drawl. "This is his favorite place on the
ship.
  Sometimes l think he'd like to move sickbay down
  here."
  Llissa laughed. "What brings you here
so late?"
  "Confession? It's my favorite place, too.
  Peaceful, quiet. I'm from the country myself, a
  farm in a place called lowa. We've got a
saying on
  earth you can take the boy out of the country,
  but you can't take the country out of the boy. I
  guess it's true. Where is the good doctor,
  anyway?"
  "He just left said he had some work to finish
  up. I decided to stay and be by myself for a
  while."

  "Oh, I'm sorry." He started to get up, but
she
  caught his arm and tugged him back to the bench.
  "No, please stay, Admiral. I don't
mind the
  company."
  "What're you thinking about?"
  She gave a careworn shrug. "Just wondering if
  my pigs headedness when it came to trusting you
  might've caused this whole disaster."
  "Preceptor, that's ridiculous."
  "Call me Llissa, Admiral."
  "Even though I haven't seen your insides?"
  "Hey, I'm open-minded."
  "Fine, and you call me Jim."
  "Deal." They shook hands to seal it. "Now that
  we're on a first-name basis, why are you calling
  me ridiculous?"
  "Because I was just as pig-headed as you were.
  If there's any blame, we have to share it. But I
  really don't think it made much difference.
Events
  were already set into motion we just couldn't
  control."
  Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed deeply.
  "I don't want to spend the rest of my life as
an
  exile, Jim."
  "That's not going to happen," he insisted.
  "You've got to have a positive outlook. Just like
  I've got to believe I'm going to get my men
and
  the outpost science team back in one piece."
  "I'm so sorry." She shook her head. "I'm
so
  wrapped up in my own problems at least I'm
  alive and I'm safe. I feel like an
idiot for not
  thinking about your people in trouble. What are
  they like, your two officers?"
  "Well, Pavel Chekov is bright,
inquisitive,
  competent. I was his first commanding officer,
  and I've known him since he was an ensign
barely
  old enough to shave. He's not that old now, and
  he's got a great future ahead of him. He
could be
  anything he wants to be in Starfleet."
  "What about Mr. Spock? He's a Vulcan,
right?"
  "That he is," Kirk chuckled. "Funny thing,
  though, he's only half-Vulcan. His mother is
from
  earth and we never get tired of reminding him
  of that fact. I've known him more than a dozen
  years. He's always been there, always ready with
  the answers when I need them."
  "Is he your friend?"
  Kirk remained quiet for a few seconds.
"There
  was a time when I wouldn't have known how to
  answer that. Vulcans

  are not exactly . . . forthcoming about their
  feelings. But I've got no doubts that
Spock's the
  most loyal friend a man could ever have. I've
  never met anyone with more integrity,
  intelligence, strength oh, he's got his flaws,
but
  we bring the human out in him every so
  often kind of makes up for them." He grinned,
  then turned pensive again. "He'd give his life
to
  save this ship and crew. I know that as surely as
  I've ever known anything. He wouldn't think
twice
  about it, if it were the "logical" thing to do. If
I
  ever gave up command of the Enterprise, he's the
  only man I'd trust with her."
  Kirk looked up at the ship around them.
  "If command is what makes you happy, why
  would you give it up?" Llissa asked.
  Jim Kirk shrugged. "Gotta go home
sometime."
  "I hope I get to go home," Llissa said in
a small
  voice.
  They shared a sad trace of a smile as
artificial
  twilight shadows crept across the starship's park.

  Chapter Seven
  SPOCK AND CHEKOV waited in a private
  gallery perched high over the round amphitheater
  of the Synod chamber, watching as the overlords
  prepared for the session about to be convened.
  The chamber contained seats and individual desks
  in four concentric levels, each one nearly a
  complete circle, with a small wedge sliced out
  from floor to ceiling directly opposite the
  observation gallery. There, a simple pulpit
rose
  perhaps three meters above floor level. On
both
  sides of the pulpit, Akkallan flags hung
down
  from grey walls ringed with geometric wave
  patterns limned in blue. Arched windows above
  the top ring of seats allowed daylight
to stream in
  from all sides of the chamber.
  The eighty overlords, both male and female and
  of widely ranging ages, were variously at their
  desks dozing or skimming papers, circulating,
or
  knotted into small, animated discussion groups.
  Amid the general chaos, one member picked his
  way through the rows and mounted the steps to
  the pulpit. He was tall, rail-thin, with flowing
  white hair and a surprisingly youthful face, and
he
  arrived at the top platform with a flourish,
  wielding a gavel
  "Overlords, overlords," he boomed, his voice
  resonating through the cavernous chamber
  without any electronic amplification, carrying in
a
  cadence suggesting that his words had long since
  become traditional opening oratory. "This
session
  of the Continental Synod is called to order to
  consider matters regarding maintenance of our
  lands blessed by Mother Sea. Come to order,
  come to order, 1, Ddenazay Mmord
presiding."
  The din of members ending conversations and
  moving to

  their places subsided quickly, and Mmord cleared
  his throat. "As you all know, my peers, we have a
  special session today. Publican Abben
Ffaridor
  has seen fit to respond to our request by coming
  to speak directly to us this morning." The
  white-haired man turned and looked back down
  the steps leading to his rostrum. "Peer
Ffaridor,
  the members will receive you now."
  As Ffaridor climbed to the speaker's platform,
  Brigadier Vvox entered the gallery. "Commander
  Spock, Lieutenant Chekov, the Publican
will be
  introducing you to the Sywd any moment now.
  Come with me. When he calls for you, you'll go in
  and stand at the base of the pulpit."
  The starship officers followed her down a set of
  switchback ramps to ground level, then around a
  hundred and eighty degrees of the circle until
  they reached a foyer behind the rostrum and
  listened to the Publican's extemporaneous
speech.
  was understand your concern over the declaration
  of first-stage martial law. So I've come, on
the
  one hand, to reassure you but on the other, to
  warn you not to take this crisis lightly. Just a day
  or so ago, our forces captured a terrorist
cadre on
  Shiluzeya, where they operated from several base
  camps, inciting war between Akkalla and Chorym
  and plotting to overthrow this government
  including you, peers of the Synod his
  Keeping behind Vvox, Spock and Chekov edged
  forward to catch a glimpse of the Publican
  standing alone in the pulpit. He spoke easily,
  maintaining a calm sincerity of tone that gave
  added credibility to words that were nothing short
  of incendiary. "He has an effective
rhetorical
  technique," the Vulcan murmured.
  was also liberated a pair of captives for whom
  we've been searching without success ever since
  they disappeared on an ill-fated scientific
mission.
  They are officers of the Federation starship
  Enterprise, and I offer them to you as an
exhibit.
  Gentlemen?"
  Brigadier Vvox waved them out onto the
Synod
  War, and Ffaridor beckoned them up to the
  rostrum. "This is Com caret mender Spock and
  Lieutenant Chekov," the Publican said when
  they'd reached his side. "Will you confirm your
  identities for the assembled overlords, please?"

  Spock's slitted eyes scanned the chamber.
"The
  Publican has correctly identified us."
  "And you were sent here to work with the
  Federation science outpost in Tyvol?"
  "Affirmative."
  "Thank you. That'll be all. You can step down."
  Spock's eyebrow elevated, betraying his
surprise
  at the brevity of their appearance with Ffaridor.
  Chekov remained in place, waiting for a signal
  from his commander.
  The white-haired man who'd opened the
session
  strode out into the well of the chamber and
  squared his shoulders as he glared up at
Publican
  Ffaridor. "By what right do you cut short
debate?"
  he thundered. "We of the Synod have questions
  to ask these men."
  "By rights established in the Declaration of
  Convergence and Articles of the Continental
  Synod, I can present exhibits without
entertaining
  debate or inquiry from the overlords. The Lord
  Magister knows this as well as I do."
  Chekov frowned, feeling insulted.
"Exhibit!" he
  muttered. Only Spock heard.
  Ddenazay Mmord crossed his arms in a
  belligerent stance. "The Lord Magister also knows
  the Publican has been abusing his declarant
  powers. In the interests of harmony between
  Synod and Tower, I . . . request that you
  relinquish the right of sole presentation and
  permit the peers to satisfy their own curiosity in
  these matters."
  "Satisfy their curiosity? My word should be
  enough to quash all rumor and doubt."
  "I'm afraid it's not, Peer Ffaridor. Will
you
  yield?" Mmord's question carried the urgency of
  a demand.
  "As I stand here, I am not simply one man who
  happens to be Publican of Akkalla. I have
to
  protect the powers that all Publicans will need
in
  the future if we're to have a future.
Brigadier
  Vvox, take them."
  The Akkallan military leader beckoned
Spock
  and Chekov down to the door and hustled them
  out the back of the chamber. A dissonant tremor
  of voices rolled down from the overlords as they
  measured what they'd just witnessed, and Lord
  Magister Mmord seized the moment before
  reaction could rise like a tidal wave. He
  hammered his gavel on the nearest desk.

  "Will you yield?" he repeated with a force
that
  silenced everyone else.
  Fandridor leaned on the podium, jaw jutting in
  defiance. "No. And I'm not finished with my
  statement. I presented these men to you as proof
  that the starship was sent to help the so called
  Federation science outpost undermine our
  government, to work with our own misguided
  scientists to upset the balance that has given
  Akkalla a rebirth and brought us progress
never
  even dreamed oft"
  The chamber erupted into a clamorof arguing
  voices. Quite pleased with himself, Ffaridor came
  down from the pulpit, and Mmord rushed over to
  confront him. "We had a right and
responsibility
  to ask questions of your starship officers and you.
  You're not above the law, Abben."
  "I am the law, Ddenazay."
  "You leave us no choice but to bring a contempt
  action against you. You risk recall and trial."
  All too aware that Mmord towered over him,
  the Publican drew himself up to full height and
  puffed out his chest like a fighting cock
strutting
  its most menacing plumage. "Bring it to the
floor,
  if you dare. See how easily your resolution
goes
  down to defeat. See what happens to your
  influence when the other overlords see you trying
  to tie the hands of a Publican in time of war and
  civil strife." With imperial disdain,
Ffaridor swept
  past Mmord and out of the chamber.
  Mmord turned to see chaos, overlords on their
  feet and waving their hands, turning the house of
  government into a churning cauldron of anarchy.
  He saddled his own fury and climbed back up
to
  the pulpit to face the daunting task of restoring
  order.
  The dark facade of the Citadel loomed over a
  shadowed courtyard like a stern and glowering
  face. With none of the grace of the Cloistered
  Tower, it displayed no pretence to being anything
  other than a brutish garrison with bulging
  ramparts. As Vvax and a half-dozen Grolian
  Guards escorted Chekov and Spock
toward the
  fortress, the Russian curled a disapproving
lip. "I
  don't like the looks of this hotel, Mr.
Spock," he
  murmured.
  One of the guardsmen pulled open the armored
  door, using all his weight to swing it out on
creaky
  hinges. Inside,

  the entry hall was dim and crafty, with a damp
  mstiness pervading the air. Brigadier Vvox
  suddenly halted and spun on the starship officers.
  "You'll go with these guards," she said, her tone
  even but commanding.
  "I thought we were free to go," Chekov said.
  "After completion of debriefing, Lieutenant
  Chekov. I'll be meeting with you shortly." She
  strode up a broad stone staircase and through a
  door, out of sight.
  "If you'll come with us, please," said the chief of
  the escort squad.
  Chekov tried to lock gazes with the guard, but
  the Akkallan's eyes were hidden beneath the
  shadow of his helmet visor; so, too, the other
  guards.
  "I suspect we have little choice for the moment,"
  Spock said.
  The faceless guardsmen ringed them, as if to
  confirm Spock's statement, and led them through
  a windowless corridor, then down a narrow flight
  of steps to a stout metal door standing open. "In
  here, please," the squad leader said.
  Chekov hesistated, considering a stroll in
  another direr lion, when he noticed the guards'
  fingers moving inconspi tilde uously toward the
  triggers of their weapons. Suicide was not the
  most useful alternative, so he meekly
followed
  Spock into a room that turned out to have a
  grate-screened window, some threadbare parlor
  furniture, and no other way out. The guards
  retreated, and the door swung closed with a
  disconcerting but distinct clattering of a lock
  engaging. Stark shafts of light filtered through the
  small window, falling across the wood-plank
floor.
  Chekov sighed. "I have a bad feeling about this."
  Hhayd and Vvex faced each other across
the
  combat pool, brightly lit in a stone-walled
room in
  the Citadel. They each wore a gossamer
grey suit
  covering their bodies from neck to toe, outlining
  every contour and curve and muscle like an
  impossibly taut skin. Each held a weapon
shaped
  like a dagger, except that a translucent tube
  replaced the blade. They bowed toward each
  other, then activated small power packs worn
on
  their belts. When switched on, the packs sent
  surges of energy along nearly invisible
filaments
  woven into the tight garments, causing them to
  glow blue-white, with

  the exception of strategic portions of the
  body chest and aWomen, groin, biceps, and
  thighs. Those sections had no filaments, just the
  stretch material of the suit itself.
  Vvox twisted the handle of her weapon, and it
  too pulsed with a blue-white energy
field. Then
  she touched it lightly to the glowing area of her
  suit, each contact sparking a strobelike
flash.
  "Ready, Rrelin?" she called across the pool,
  slipping on a headband to hold her hair.
  He nodded, and they both dove feet-first into
  the water deep enough to be well over their
  heads. They maneuvered around each other in
  balletic slow motion, probing for weakness. After
  a few feints, they began using their hand weapons
  to thrust and parry in a weightless, three-
  dimensional match of wits and physical
prowess,
  always aiming to hit those critical body parts
  unprotected by the energized filaments. Using
feet
  and arms and buttocks to bounce off the walls
  and floor of the tank, they twisted and pirouetted
  through their mock battle, with Hhayd scoring the
  first touch, on her unshielded left upper arm.
The
  magnetic jolt stung, but not enough to make her
  lose control. As she swam away, she kicked
him
  playfully in the gut with a powerful stroke of her
  legs. But before she could marshal a
  counter-attack, he dove down from the surface,
  faking a blow to her chest, then going for her
  thigh a hit! This time, a solid strike. She
almost
  opened her mouth and gave up precious stored
  oxygen. The stun effect made her leg twitch
  uselessly she couldn't escape. He poised for a
  lethal contact, his probe aimed right for her chest.
  With a desperate swipe, her free hand jarred his
  attack arm and his weapon drifted free, sinking
  toward the bottom. Caught off guard, he
  hesitated his fatal error. Her back to the
pool
  wall, Vvox tucked her knees and pushed with
all
  her muscle power, darting straight for him.
Hhayd
  started a contortion of escape. Too late. Her
  probe jabbed him hard in the chest, changeling its
  full magnetic force through the gap in his
  deflective suit, and his mouth and eyes opened
  wide in pain and amazement. As air rushed out of
  his lungs, he paddled limply to the
surface, his
  head bursting through, gulping and roaring in
  agony in the same instant.
  Mushes straining, he copped out onto the deck,
  chest

  heaving as he lay on his side. Vvox bobbed up
  from the bottom and floated on her back,
  catching her own breath.
  "I had you on the run," he panted.
  "You can't hold your breath the way you used to
  . . . getting old."
  "But I still won."
  She got out of the pool and spread a fluffy
  towel, beckoning Hhayd to join her. Bodies
  nested together, they lay back and rested.
  "What happened this morning in the Synod?" he
  asked.
  Vvox rolled her eyes in disgust. "I knew
I
  shouldn't have let him do it. I knew the overlords
  wouldn't take kindly to having their noses rubbed
  in their own impotence."
  "What's happened since then? Are they going
  after him?"
  "Oh, yes indeed, my love. He may be the
first
  Publican ever thrown in prison during his term
of
  office. My agents tell me Mmord was
spitting fire
  after Ffaridor stomped out of there. And Mmord
  isn't one for idle threats."
  "But how many overlords have the nerve to take
  on the Publican?"
  "Until today, not too many. If Fearless
Ffaridor
  hadn't gone into their place and personally
  offended the entire Synod, we probably
could've
  gone on like this indefinitely."
  "And now ?"
  "Now ?" she repeated. "Time is running out."
  "That means our time is running out."
  "Very perceptive, Rrelin."
  "Is that the best you can do? This isn't the time
  for witty rejoinders. We've got to do something.
  You're obviously losing control of him."
  "I am not," she bristled.
  "What do you call it?"
  No longer feeling amorous, Henna Vvox
  wrapped herself in a towel and sat hunched and
  cross-legged. "This bickering isn't getting us
  anywhere."
  "Neither is all your careful planning."
  "Okay, you're so brilliant, Rrelin. What
great
  ideas would you care to share?"
  "Get rid of him," Hhayd said icily.
  "What do you mean?"
  "Assassination. his
  "Nor"

  "Why will you miss crawling into bed and
  servicing the most powerful leader on the planet?"
  he mocked.
  Her hand lashed out and she slapped him across
  the cheek with a stinging smack.
  "That's no answer to our problem, Jjenna.
Give
  me a good reason not to kill him."
  "We still need him to give this government
  legitimacy before we take it over."
  "That's what you call what he did this morning?
  Giving the government legitimacy ?"
  "Even as a figureheads we need him as a
  distraction. He and the Synod keep each other
  occupied while we make things happen."
  "What happens when the Synod votes to recall
  him?"
  "They won't have the chance."
  Hhayd's eyes squinted in suspicion. "Why
note"
  "Because we're going to arrest the overlords and
  put them in prison until we can take over."
  He continued glaring out from under half-closed
  lids. Then he started to chuckle, a low,
mirthless
  sound coming from his throat. "Arrest them?"
  "Mm-hmm. Skip right to third-stage martial
law.
  Brilliant?"
  "Let me think about that for a bit. Will you get
  his authorisation?"
  "Of course. He is the planetary leader, after
all.
  And with his signature, it'll all be perfectly
legal,
  according to the Articles of the Synod."
  "Are you sure he'll agree? How're
you going to
  convince him? It's a big leap to go from yelling at
  Mmord to throwing the entire bunch into prison."
  "When Mmord threatened to start a contempt
  action against him, the Synod became a danger to
  him. I really think he never believed they'd go
  through with it. But when I tell him they are his
  was and he always believes you his
  "tilde Yes," Vvox purred, "he does.
When he hears
  it from me, he'll be willing to do almost anything
  to protect himself. I don't think this'll be
any
  problem."
  "Don't forget anything that threatens his power
  threatens ours."
  Her eyes flashed angrily. "I don't need
you to tell
  me the

  obvious was She unfolded herself as if to stand, but
  he gripped her shoulder and pushed her roughly
  onto her back.
  "But you do need me," he stated.
  She struggled briefly, trying to get
up, then
  relented with a seductive smile. "Of course
I need
  you, love. Why would you even ask such a silly
  question."
  "Oh, you misunderstand. It wasn't a question."
  "I see," she said, with a short, hollow laugh.
  "Good." They kissed. For the moment, their lust
  for power was subordinated to another kind of
  lust, one with more immediate rewards.
  Lord Magister Ddenazay Mmord leaned
wearily
  on his podium, peering down at the Synod
  Chamber floor where a woman overlord droned
  on about the Publican's trespasses against
decency
  and good government. She stopped for a breath
  and Mmord quickly gaveledthe members to atten-
  tion. "Thank you, Peer Llutri. We've
worked long
  and hard today, without even a mid-noon meal. I
  propose that we adjourn until fifty-four.
It's so
  late already, this can be our dinner. Then we can
  debate into the evenin tilde and, I
devoutly hope, we
  can also vote on the resolution. Immediate action
  is imperative. If we wait, we may not be
able to
  counteract the consequences. Objections? No
  objections," he said rapidly, not waiting for a
  dissenting voice. The gavel came down with an
  echoing crack. "Adjourned till fiftyfour,"
he
  mumbled, wiping his brow in relief. He settled
on
  his stool, unable to summon the energy to go
  down the staircase without falling. The other
  overlords gathered their papers and filed out,
  some by exits on each seating level, others
passing
  the base of the pulpit and leaving via the foyer
  behind the Lord Magister's rostrum.
  Shouts filtered into the chamber from the rear
  foyer and several overlords stumbled back inside,
  falling over others trying to make their way out
  for overdue meals. Mmord roused himself enough
  to lean down for a closer look, just as armed
  Paladins in gray-blue combat uniforms and
  helmets marched in. He heard
panicky shuffling
  of feet across the chamber, too, and saw overlords
  being forced back by troopers on all four
levels.
  Other than the punctuation of footsteps, the
place
  was filled with an unaccustomed quiet, with no
  voices rising in parliamentary speech. Almost out

  of reflex, Mmord fumbled for his gavel,
slammed
  it once on his podium, and heard his own voice
  demanding, "What is going on here?"
  All motion stopped; all eyes turned his way.
  One trooper ambled down to the chamber well,
  tipped his helmet back, and squinted up at the
  Lord Magister. "By order of the Publican,
  third-stage martial law is hereby declared. You
  and all your colleagues are under arrest."
  Ddenazay Mmord blinked in disbelief. For the
  first time in his life, he couldn't think of a thing to
  say.
  The last rays of cloud-shrouded afternoon light
  banked steeply through the window grating of the
  cell, and Spock sat in
straight-backed composure
  while Chekov paced.
  "I do not believe this," the Russian grumbled.
  "They keep us in here all day, they never come to
  question us not for even ten seconds! they
  don't tell us a thing I just do not believe this.
  Sometimes I think we were better off in the cave."
  He stopped suddenly, reconsidering. "Forget
I said
  that."
  "Mr. Chekov, your pacing is accomplishing
  nothing."
  "Maybe, but I just can't sit there and meditate
  like you sir."
  "But rather than dissipating nervous tension,
  your activity seems to have the opposite
  effect that of maintaining your anger or even
  increasing it."
  "I wish to be angry, Mr. Spock. I wish
to be very
  angry at these Cossacks! Keeping us locked
up
  like common criminals."
  A key turned in the lock. "Stand back,"
called a
  voice, and the cell door swung in. A guard
  stepped in, weapon up, located Spock and
  Chekov, then motioned another guard to bring in
  a new prisoner a tall white-haired man with a
  lean build and stooped shoulders. He seemed
  disoriented, head twitching like a nervous bird.
  The guards left, and the door slammed shut.
  Chekov looked at the newcomer. "You are the
  Lord Mauster from the Synod!"
  The man took a deep breath, weaving as if
  about to faint. "Yes, yes, 1 am."
  Spock stood. "We are the officers from the
  starship Enterprise. his

  The man nodded. "I know." He steadied himself,
  regaining some of the presence he'd exhibited
  from his speaker's pulpit. "It seems we've
been
  trapped in the same net."
  "Why are you here?" Spock asked.
  "Just let me sit down here, gentlemen." He
  eased himself onto the worn cushions of a
  battered armchair. "Our esteemed Publican
has
  declared a full third-stage martial
alert."
  "What does that mean?" said Chekov.
  "It means he's declared himself sovereign
  military ruler of Akkalla. He's disbanded the
  Synod. And he's had all the overlords arrested.
  Since I'm the Lord Magister, I've got
privileged
  accommodations along with you. The rest are in
  considerably less stylish quarters down in the
  bowels of this Citadel, lacking amenities like
  cushions and windows."
  Chekov swallowed. "Mr. Spock, I think
we're in
  a lot more trouble than we thought."
  The tall man extended his hand, palm up.
"I'm
  Ddenazay Mmord, once and perhaps future Lord
  Magister of the Continental Synod."
  "I am Lieutenant Pavel Chekov." He
offered a
  tentative hand, unsure of proper protocol.
Mmord
  took Chekov's hand and placed it palm down on
  top of his own.
  "And I am Spock first officer and
science
  officer of the Enterprise. was The Vulcan did not
  offer to participate in the greeting ritual.
  "Sounds like you're an important man." He
  waved a hand around. "We're all important
men.
  We're in the best cell."
  "Why would the Publican place you all under
  arrest?" asked Spock.
  "Because we were a threat to his power. Idiots
  that we are, we warned him before we did
  anything to stop him. That gave him the time he
  needed to protect himself. Although this bears the
  mark of Brigadier Vvox. Ffaridor never
wielded
  power quite so forcefully? before getting in-
  volved with that one."
  Spock pulled a chair over and sat close to
  Mmord. "To what sort of involvement do you
  refer?"
  "Everything under the clouds. She's become the
  only adviser he listens to, she controls who
he
  sees, what he hears . . . and from all the
rumors
  drifting about, it's pretty

  certain they're also lovers. He may be the
  Publican, but Brigadier Vvex seems to be
running
  the planet."
  "It wasn't always that way?" Chekov asked.
  "Oh, no, no, no. When we made Ffaridor
  Publican his
  Chekov frowned. "When who made him
  Publican? I thought your leaders were elected
  democratically."
  "We are. Then the leader of the majority party
  becomes Publican. We chose Ffaridor for
that as
  sort of a compromise. Our previous leader
  stepped down after a period of serious fighting
  within the party, so we looked for someone who
  had no enemies. That was Abben Ffaridor,
mild-
  mannered, inoffensive, and moderately
ineffectual.
  Frankly, we picked him because we thought he
  could be controlled." He snorted a bitter
laugh.
  "We were right about that and wrong about
  who'd be doing the controlling."
  "Have you known Publican Ffaridor long?"
Spock
  asked.
  "Oh, yes. We were elected to the Synod at the
  same time. I took it very seriously all these
years,
  and he was more a gentleman politician, almost as
  if he were dabbling until something more
  interesting came along."
  "How did Brigadier Vveaox manage to exert
such
  strong influence over him?"
  Mmord shrugged. "Proximity. And I guess
she
  was shrewd enough to recognise an
  opportunity and ruthless enough to Brab it."
  Chekov rested his elbows on the back of
Spock's
  chair. "What are you going to do about this?"
  "My opportunities appear to be limited at
the
  moment. It's strange. I saw all this coming,
saw
  the changes in Ffaridor. It didn't happen
  overnight, but I knew him well enough to see
  what was happening, to see him melded by her$'a
  "Yet you did nothing?" Spock said.
  Mmord rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "My
mistake.
  You see other people make them, and think you
  never will. Then it turns out you're not immune.
  And there's a good chance this one will take me
  to my grave."
  Abben Ffaridor stood at the window of the
  reception lounge, watching the setting sun stain
  the cloud bottoms with broad strokes of red and
  gold, trying to commit to memory the contours of
  the clouds and the casual way

  nature cross-stroked them with fleeting
brilliance.
  At the sound of footsteps coming down the
  corridor, he turned to see Ddenazay
Mmord
  escorted in by two Grolian Guards in formal
  Tower uniforms.
  "Wait outside," he said to the guards. Then he
  motioned toward a pair of chairs, and he
and the
  prisoner sat. "I'm sorry it had to come to this,
  Dden."
  "No, you're not. Not unless Vvax told you
to be."
  "Is that how it looks to you? That I've become
  Vvox's puppet?"
  "That's exactly how it looks."
  Ffaridor shook his head sadly. "Can't you
  believe that she and I simply share the same
  visions of what this planet can be?"
  "Her vision is a military dictatorship, with
her in
  charge. Is that yours, too?"
  "No, no. You're mistaken about that."
  "Do you remember the motto of the
  Declaration of Convergence?"
  "Of course I do. "What good is order without
  freedom, freedom without truth?"' Every
Akkallan
  child has to memorize it."
  "Memorizing and understanding are two
  different things, Abben."
  "Can you understand this?" the Publican
  implored. "What good is freedom or
truth without
  order, my friend? Order must come first. How
  can we have a world without a solid structure for
  society? Can't you see that's crumbling now?
  We're under assault from the Chorymi, from our
  own scientists, and now from the Federation
  itself."
  Before Mmord could respond, the sharp clicks
  of military boots echoed through the hallway, and
  Brigadier Vvex strode in. "I'm sorry
I was
  delayed, sir."
  "Quite all right, quite all right. Ddenazay and I
  needed a few minutes alone. Now, what were you
  going to say, my friend?"
  "Does it matter?" Mmord's eyes remained
fixed
  on Vvox, who glared coolly back at him.
  "Yes, yes, of course it matters! I want
to resolve
  this and release the overlords as quickly as
  possible."
  Mmord turned back to his old colleague.
"I wish
  I could believe that."

  "Isn't that our intention, Jjenna?"
  "Of course, sir."
  "Well, if it isn't, you're risking violent
revolution,
  Abben. You may control the official news
media,
  but there are other information channels, and you
  can't control every single one of them."
  "Don't underestimate us," Vvox said tightly.
  "Jjenna," Ffaridor scolded. "Ddenazay,
I need
  the Synod out and functioning. We're a small
  world. We need everyone working together,
  especially now."
  "Then why did you pull that high-handed stunt
  with the starship officers today? Why didn't you
  let us question them?"
  "I I didn't see the need."
  "Well, then you didn't have your eyes open. If
  you want us to believe your accusation against the
  Federation and its science outpost, prove it. Have
  those officers make a public confession before the
  entire Synod, let us question them, and I can
  almost guarantee you our support."
  "That demand is out of line," Vvox said.
  "That's not yours to decide," Mmord flared.
  "He's the Publican, not you brigadier."
  "I'm his adviser."
  "You're his devil. You're the most dangerous
  thing that ever happened to him or this
  government. And this planet's only hope is for
  him to recognise that before it's too late!"
Mmord
  snarled, rising out of his chair.
  "How dare you challenge the Publican's
mandate!"
  "How dare you arrest the entire Synod! As
soon
  as we reconvene, you'll both be charged with high
  treason!"
  Shouting voices brought the guards hustling
  back in, but they skidded to a halt as the
Publican
  raised his hand. The verbal jousting continued.
  "What makes you think you'll be reconvening
  any time soon, Lord Magister?"
  Ffaridor stepped between them. "That's enough!
  This isn't solving anything!"
  "There's nothing to be solved," Mmord
said,
  suddenly hushed.
  "I was hoping you'd feel differently," said
  Ffaridor in sorrow. "Guards, take him
back to the
  Citadel. Jjenna, leave. I want to be
alone now."

  "Yes, sir." She followed the guards and the
  prisoner out into the hall. "Put him in the lower
  cells with the other overlords," she told the
  guards in a low voice.
  They shoved Mmord toward the Tower's front
  doors, and he went along without struggle. Vvox
  watched them go. "We'll see who's tried for
  treason," she muttered.
  The cell door creaked in, and Brigadier
Vvox
  stood in the opening. "Commander Spock,
  Lieutenant Chekov. I just wanted to see if
you
  were comfortable."
  "We'd be more comfortable," said Chekov,
  "aboard the Enterprise. his
  "I'm sure you would, but we just can't
  accommodate you quite yet. Would you care to
  take a walk with me?"
  "Do we have a choice?"
  "No, Mr. Chekov, you don't." She
turned, and
  they got up to follow.
  "No guards to accompany us?" Spock mused.
  "Not needed. This is a rather heavily fortified
  place. Even if you got rid of me, you wouldn't
get
  very far."
  The hallway was barely wide enough for two to
  walk shoulder to shoulder, with stone-block walls
  that angled in as they reached the ceiling. There
  was little doubt the Citadel was quite old, but
  plenty of bright lighting made this section seem
  somewhat less dungeonlike. Vvex led the way
  down a short flight of steps to a vaulted room
  with museumpiece for ure racks and shackles
  around the perimeter. But the dominant features
  were a pair of clear, modern tanks, three
meters
  high by two across and filled with water. Each
  one had a winch over the open top, and Chekov's
  jaw dropped in horror when he
realized that one
  of the tanks was occupied by a naked man,
  hanging upside down from the winch, flailing and
  writhing, trying vainly to right himself and rise to
  the top. Every time he seemed about to succeed,
  the guard operating the winch would yank the
  prisoner up, dangle him by his feet in the
air for
  a second, then dunk him back into the water.
  The corners of Spock's mouth tightened, and
  Chekov noticed. It was as close as he'd ever
seen
  the Vulcan come to betraying anger. "I had been
  led to believe that Akkallans were too civilised
to
  resort to torture, brigadier."
  "Oh, this isn't torture, commander. It's just an
  interroga

  tion enhancement technique, useful for softening
  resistance."
  ""That's what he said," Chekov sneered.
"Torture."
  She ignored the comment. "Every air-breathing
  being has a fear of drowning. The tank
stimulates
  that fear, without actually damaging the subject.
  It's quite effective, and it's never fatal unless
we
  want it to be."
  Spock crossed his arms, deliberately shifting
  away from the torture tank. "Presumably, you
  have a purpose in demonstrating this."
  "Yes, I do," Vvex said. "We would like you and
  the lieutenant to appear on our broadcast to
  confess your collusion with the Federation science
  team and the Cape Alliance."
  "Indeed. Could you endeavor to be more
  specific?"
  "Mr. Spock!" Chekov blurted.
  The Vulcan silenced him with a look.
  "Well, you would be asked to tell how the
  Federation scientists had collaborated with the
  Alliance to spread false information and disrupt
  the long-standing harvest treaty with Chorym,
  leading to war and the overthrow of the Akkallan
  government."
  "And when would you like us to do this?"
  Chekov stared dumbfounded at Spock.
  "Tomorrow would be perfect," Vvox said.
"We
  could work on your exact text tonight, do the
  broadcast first thing in the morning, and probably
  have you freed by midnoon. Your confession
  would also help the Publican convince the
  members of the Synod and settle that dispute,
too.
  You'd be doing Akkalla a great service,
uniting us
  behind the Publican and his leadership."
  At the brigadier's words, Chekov could no
  longer contain himself. "Sir, how can you think
  of his
  "Mr. Chekov, allow me to respond.
Brigadier
  Vvox, you are asking us to lie. That, quite simply,
  is impossible. We will not cooperate."
  Vvox shook her head. "But reasonable
  cooperation is so much more pleasant for both of
  us than the tank."
  "Vulcans have the ability to place the body in a
  sort of trance or stasis, during which respiration
is
  reduced to almost imperceptible levels. We
  require no intake of a.i

  tional oxygen for a period of some days. Should
  deprivation by immersion exceed that, I would
  die, and that would certainly preclude the
  confession you seek."
  "Then there's always Lieutenant Chekov."
  The younger officer's lip curled scornfully.
  "Russians have the same ability as Vulcans.
You
  won't get anything out of me."
  "That may be true, but I will have to try. I'll
  giye you some time to think about the proposition
  in your cell."
  At the sound of the door buzzer, Kirk looked
  up from his desktop computer. "Come." The door
  slid aside, and Lieutenant Maybri and
Ensign
  Greenberger entered, arms laden with printouts,
  computer data cassettes, and hard copies of
  photographs, maps, and charts. Kirk couldn't
help
  chuckling as he waved them over to an empty
  table.
  "It's all here, sir," Maybri said, flexing
her
  elbows after she and Greenberger had dumped
  their loads.
  Greenberger puffed a breath past her nose,
  aimed at clearing away the blond locks fallen
  across her cheek. "We've organized everything so
  you'll have no trouble getting the Akkallans to
  understand. You've got data on the shuttle, where
  it went down, the path it took his
  was and," Maybri chimed in, "everything on the
  new life form, enough evidence to warrant further
  investigation and to prove the science outpost was
  doing legitimate research."
  Kirk suppressed a smile. "Good work,
Maybri,
  Greenberger. You two should be running the
  science department on some starship one of these
  days."
  "Thank you, sir," they both said at once. They
  turned and left Kirk's cabin.
  With a grin, Kirk sifted through the material
  they'd brought him. The two young science
  officers certainly were thorough. They might
  indeed be ready to give Spock a fight for that
  bridge science console. For the moment, it made
  Kirk feel a bit better to know he
had two young
  officers he could rely on.
  He pressed the intercom button. "Kirk
to bridge.
  Communications get me a channel to Publican
  Ffaridor or Brigadier Vvox."
  "Lieutenant Lin here, sir." The face of a
young
  Chinese

  officer appeared on Kirk's viewer. Lin's
straight
  black hair fell across his forehead as he touched
  the transceiver in his ear. "I'll get right on
it and
  pipe it down to you, sir. his
  "Fine. Kirk out." He shut the intercom off,
and
  the screen blanked out.
  Bending low, he opened a cabinet under the
  computer and pulled out a slim leather briefcase,
  holding it up against the pile of paper and
  cassettes left by Maybri and Greenberger.
"All of
  that is not going to fit in this."
  "tin to Admiral Kirk. his
  Kirk turned to find the swing-shift comm officer
  on the viewer, looking perplexed. "I'm
sorry, sir,
  but I couldn't reach the Publican or Avow his
  Kirk's face Bushed. "Couldn't reach them?"
  he sputtered through clenched teeth.
  "I got one of the guards . . . said they were both
  too busy and couldn't be disturbed. Should I try
  again la his
  "No," he snapped. "tilde Kirk out."
He pounded the
  button with his fist, then stuffed as much as he
  could into the briefcase, fastened it, and headed
  for the door. As it snapped open, he ran
directly
  into McCoy. The doctor staggered to the opposite
  wall.
  "Sorry, Bones." Kirk steadied him, then
strode
  off. "No time to chat."
  "What's your hurry, and where're you going?"
  McCoy rushed to catch up.
  "The hurry is, I've had it with Vvox and
Ffaridor
  avoiding me his
  "They're both doing it now?"
  "Yep. And where I'm going is the Cloistered
  Tower to give them a piece of my mind and a lot
  of data from our computer."
  "Well, I didn't have anything exciting
planned
  for the evening," McCoy said.
  "I didn't ask you to come along."
  McCoy clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the
  great thing about old friends, Jim. They can read
  your mind."
  They materialised on the steps of the
Publican's
  residence, with floodlights casting pools of
white
  on the plaza and tall beams up the front of the
  building. Kirk opened the

  glass doors and found the lobby empty. No
  guards in sight.
  "Strange."
  "Do we go in? Or is this a trap they convict
us
  of trespassing on the spot and toss us
off the
  cliffs."
  "Let's go," Kirk decided.
  "Fine go where? How do we find anybody?"
  Hisby '1 don't know. Let's try this way. At
least it's
  familiar." He pointed down the hallway that led
to
  the reception area where they'd met the Akkallan
  leaders before. With a fatalistic shrug, McCoy
fell
  into step behind him.
  The Akkallan sky was black now, with just the
  faintest tendrils of orange fire fading at the
  horizon. Still in the reception hall, Ffaridor
stood
  at the windows, transfixed by the view. He'd
  wanted his meeting with Mmord to be conciliatory,
  not a continuation of the battle. Never mind the
  liberties he'd taken with the truth in trying
to pass
  off the Starfleet prisoners as dangerous
  conspirators. Small lies were sometimes necessary
  when the risks ran high. In the end, if he
saved
  Akkalla from the Chorymi threat, who would care?
  Who would even know? He felt a pang of guilt
  over his willingness to sacrifice these two
  offworlders on the altar of desperation, but this
  was war. People died in wars. Ffaridor felt
events
  getting away from him, sifting through his fingers
  like grains of sand. The more he tried to staunch
  the now, the more fell from his grasp.
  In the window, he saw a reflection of movement
  behind him, and he turned to find a figure
  emerging from shadows, a figure dressed in
  unmarked grey fatigues, with a hood over its
head
  and a mask across its mouth. Only the eyes were
  visible light, deep-set eyes, eyes
quietly burning
  with a deadly fire. The hands were gloved in black
  leather, and a dagger gleamed in one, held
  carefully by determined fingers. The figure moved
  quickly, noiselessly, crossing the space in the
center
  of the room in effortless sliding strides.
  Ffaridor froze. He did not run or could not.
He
  felt dampness under his arms and down his back.
  His mouth turned dry and gluey. "What are you
  doing here?" he croaked.
  The only answer was the flash of a dagger's
blade.
  * * *

  "Are you sure it's this way?" McCoy
whispered.
  "Yes, I'm sure."
  Kirk tiptoed around a corner. A clash of
  ceramic on stone screamed down the corridor,
  and they skidded to a stop. Then a second crash
  and the shrill scraping of heavy furniture being
  dragged ID a panic made them sprint toward
the
  location of the scuffle the reception parlor. The
  doors were ajar, and Kirk burst through.
  The Publican was scrabbling along the floor like
  a crab, trying to escape from a masked
assailant.
  The attacker's dagger flashed down once,
twice,
  three times, with Ffaridor fending off the blows
  with a shredded seat cushion. Blood
streaked the
  crumpled rug and the floor, chairs and tables
  were upended, and the Akkallan leader shrieked
  as the blade found its mark. But the blow wasn't
  a fatal one, and he skittered behind a broken
  lamp table, shoving it into the assassin's path. The
  hooded figure tripped over it, tumbled, and
slid
  face-first on the bare floor.
  Kirk pulled his small hand phaser from his belt
  and dove over a couch, just as the attacker
  scrambled to get away. His raised knee caught
  Kirk in the stomach, knocking the wind out of
  him. But the missed tackle still sent the hooded
  man tumbling, and Kirk rolled, raised his
phaser,
  and aimed.
  The assassin's foot lashed out, and the phaser
  went flying. He lunged after it, and Kirk
managed
  to grab his ankle, sending the man sprawling.
  McCoy, tending to the dazed Publican,
sprang
  from his crouch, scooped up the phaser, aimed,
  and fired in one smooth motion, dropping
the
  would-be assassin two paces away. The
surgeon
  maintained a combat stance, weapon pointed at
  the unconscious figure, as Kirk sat up and
  hobbled to his feet.
  "Thanks, Bones."
  "I told you you needed me to come along."
  Kirk held his palm out for the phaser, and
  McCoy started to pass it over, then withdrew it.
  "On second thought, maybe I should hold on
to
  this."
  Kirk wiggled his fingers impatiently, and
McCoy
  surrendered it. Then they moved to help the
  Publican, who was crumpled against the
fireplace.
  McCoy kneeled for a quick examination. Ffaridor
  was conscious, and as they propped him in a more
  comfortable position, his breathing eased. Blood
  oozed through a gash on his right arm.

  "Well?" Kirk hovered over his medical
officer's
  shoulder. "The wound appears superficial. If
I had
  my medical kit his
  "Why don't you have your medical kit?"
  "I didn't think I'd need it. I thought this was
a
  diplomatic visit."
  Ffaridor licked his lips. "Call for help,"
he
  looking up at the wall behind him, toward a
  flush-mounted intercom panel with a black button
  and a red one. "The red one, Admiral."
  Kirk pressed it, setting off a whooping alarm
  siren. Within seconds, Grolian Guards
charged in
  from both ends of the room, a half-dozen in all,
  sidearms drawn, cocked, and pointed at Kirk
and
  McCoy.
  "Not them," Ffaridor said, trying to stand.
  "You rest right where you are," McCoy snapped.
  Hands spread in a nonthreatening pose, Kirk
  stepped over to the hooded figure. "Here's your
  man."
  "What's going on here?" It was
Brigadier Vvox,
  swaggering into the reception chamber, eyes
  darting across the room.
  Her arrogant facade slipped for an instant as
  she saw the blood on Ffaridor and gasped.
McCoy
  was already ripping the Publican's sleeve with a
  red-handled pocket knife and fashioning a
  tourniquet. "Someone tried to kill your
Publican."
  "What are you two doing here?" she demanded.
  "As it turned out, saving his life," Kirk said.
"At
  least you could thank us."
  She stamped her foot. "You break into the
  Tower iJlegally his
  "We interrupt a murder in progress,"
Kirk cut
  in, "risk our lives, and catch the assassin his
  "This man needs medical assistance," McCoy
  said, helping the Publican to a chair. "I'd be
glad
  to his
  "Our doctors can take care of him." She
jerked
  her thumb toward the door and addressed one of
  the guards. "tilde Get the Publican's
doctor now."
  The guard saluted and trotted out. Hands on
hips,
  Vvox turned back to the trespassers. "You've
  committed a serious offence, Admiral his
  "Forget it, Jjenna." Ffaridor said. "And
thank you
  both."

  Vvax wheeled to face the guards standing over
  the assailant's body. "Get him out of here."
  "Wait," Ffaridor said. "I want to see his
face
  first. He got in without tripping any alarms or
  attracting the attention of the guards."
  "There were no guards," Kirk said. "Not in
front
  anyway. That's how we got in."
  Ffaridor's eyes widened. "He must be an
insider,
  then. Unmask him."
  Uncharacteristically Mustered, Vvox blanched,
  frozen in place. Ffaridor nodded
to one of the
  guards, who rolled the attacker over and tugged
  off the hood and mask revealing the face of
  Commandant Rrelin Hhayd.
  "Well, I'll be a sonofagun," McCoy
murmured.
  Vvox bent to one knee next to him. "Is is
he
  dead?"
  "No, just stunned," said Kirk. "He'll be coming
  around in an hour or so."
  "Then that's when he'll be executed," Vvox
  growled, straightening.
  "He has to be questioned first," Ffaridor said.
  "This had to be a conspiracy."
  "It may not have been," Vvox said. "He is the
  commandant of the Grolian Guard. It wouldn't
  have been hard for him to arrange for the guards
  to be called away from the front on some false
  order."
  "I want him questioned," Ffaridor repeated.
  "You do it, Jjenna."
  A breath caught in her throat. "Yes, sir.
I'll take
  care of it. And I'll find out the truth.
Take him to
  the Citadel."
  A pair of guards grabbed Hhayd's limp form
by
  the arms and hauled him out. Vvox faced another
  pair. "Escort the Publican to his
quarters."
  "No, no, Jjenna, I can wait here for the
doctor."
  She held his uninjured arm and gently coaxed
  him toward the door. "You're hurt, you're in
  shock, you need to get off your feet, and you need
  to be kept warm. Isn't that right, Dr.
McCoy?"
  McCoy knew she was trying to rush Ffaridor out
  and away from Kirk, but his medical ethics
  compelled him to be honest. "Yes, he should
  be his
  "Thank you for your help, Dr. McCoy," she
  interrupted, making certain Ffaridor left without
  another word to the

  starship officers. When he was gone, her
  concerned expression hardened. "If I had my
  choice, you'd be prosecuted for coming down
  here without authorisation. But the Publican has
  generously waived the law in this case. But let
  this be a warning to you, Kirk. This building will
  be sealed. No one will be allowed in without my
  permission. Now, it's true, I can't keep you
from
  using your transporter to breach our security
  shield. But if I find you or any of your
officers
  here again, you'll be imprisoned without a
  hearing. Go back to your ship now."
  Briefcase clutched under one arm, Kirk
flipped
  open his communicator and spoke through
  clenched teeth. "Kirk to Enterprise. Two
to beam
  up. Lock in and energise."
  The shimmering began, and he and McCoy
  faded and dissolved.
  Her face taut, Vvox turned to the remaining
  guardsmen. "If anyone from the starship
  transports back here, grab them. If they
resist, do
  whatever has to be done to place them in
  custody. If you have to, kill them."

  Chapter Eight
  OUTSIDE THE CITADEL, the pearl-grey
light
  of early morning cast faint shadows in the
  courtyard. But down where Rrelin Hhayd was
  imprisoned, there were no windows to tell him it
  was dawn. He lay on a slab-hard bunk,
curled on
  his side. The bare bulb overhead flickered on,
  painting the tiny cell in harsh white light. At
the
  sound of a key in the door, he shook himself
  awake and swung his feet to the floor, still
  wearing his combat fatigues as the door opened
  enough to allow Brigadier Vvax to enter.
  Hooking her toe on the leg of a tripod stool,
she
  slid it across the uneven stone floor with a grating
  sound. Then she sat. The cell door remained
  open, enough for Hhayd to see two armed
  guardsmen outside troopers who used to jump to
  the cadence of his orders.
  "So," he said, "you're my inquisitor. How
ironic."
  Vvox shook her head scornfully. "I only
have
  one burning question." Her voice was flat. "How
  could you be so stupid?"
  Hhayd chuckled. "Stupid? For taking a
positive
  step toward what we both wanted?" His forced
  smile disappeared. "I did what had to be
done."
  "First of all, it didn't have to be done.
Second,
  even if it did, this wasn't the time. And finally,
  you failed."
  "At least I tried. Better than planning and
  planning and planning again, twisting with every
  breeze that blows, and waiting to navigate a
  course that never hits a wave or a storm.
Well,
  there's no such course, and the fool who thinks
  there is never leaves the harbor."
  "Very sure of yourself, Rrelin."

  "You know me never look back. So, interrogate
  me."
  "I did. I found out nothing useful.
I had you
  executed."
  "Just like that?"
  "Just like that." She stood, kicked the stool
  against the wall, and left the cell. But the door
  didn't clang shut. Instead, Vvox came
back in with
  a powerful Grolian sidearm in her hand. She
  slipped a muffler over the muzzle, raised it,
and
  fired. With a deadened thud, the projectile
  exploded in the centerof Hhayd's chest, throwing
  his body against the wall, draping him
grotesquely
  off the end of the bunk, arms dangling and legs
  askew like a discarded rag doll.
  "Screen on, please," Kirk said. The
wall-size
  viewer in the main briefing room glowed, and the
  room lights dimmed slightly. "Okay,
Llissa. It's all
  yours."
  Llissa Kkayn prowled around the table, where
  the admiral now sat with Scott, Sulu,
McCoy,
  Maybri, and Greenberger. "Thanks, Jim.
I wish I'd
  had more time to grab things or have them
  beamed up before Collegium was occupied, but
  ^the'll have to do." She thumbed a remote
  control in her hand, and the computer obliged by
  Bashing a florid painting of a sea creature with
  some strikingly humanoid features, ornately
  rendered. "This is an illustration from an ancient
  religious text, dating back, oh, maybe
eight
  hundred years. Not many books survive from
  before that era, so this is one of the earlier
  paintings with lots of detail."
  "Details of what, Llissa?" McCoy
asked.
  "Of a creature called a Wwafida.
Akkallan
  legends devote a great deal of time to a
  civilisation of humanlike beings that lived in the
  sea."
  Maybri's ear tips twitched curiously. "A
  civilisation? Not just creatures swimming around
  in the ocean?"
  "That's right. A civilisation, with everything
that
  implies communication, culture, highly
evolved
  social order. At least that's what the legends
say.
  We Akkallans believe life began in the
sea here.
  Maybri was telling me that's probably true
on
  many if not most worlds that have advanced forms
  of life. And here, as you've seen, even modern
life
  revolves around the sea. That's no great
surprise
  on a planet where we don't have very much dry
  land. The Wwafida were supposed to be people
  who'd been born on land, and after

  they lived good lives, their reward was to turn into
  these sea creatures for the final stage of their
  lives and then die in peace in Mother Sea. The
  change was called senescence, or
sanctification."
  "How far back do these legends go?" Kirk
asked.
  "Well, we have some forms of recorded
  history carvings, engravings, stone tablets, cave
  paintings dating back about ten thousand years.
  Before that, it was just oral history. For all of
  those ten thousand years, Akkallans have lived
  and died on land, as far as anybody can figure
  out, just like we do today."
  Greenberger raised her hand. "Did anybody
ever
  investigate to see if these Wwafida ever
actually
  existed?"
  Llissanodded. "Some people wondered. Some
  people did more than wonder. My father was one
  of them. He worked at Colle tilde um when I
was
  growing up, and he was something of a genius,
  spread over a whole batch of fields. He was
a
  biologist, an archeologist, a
paleontologist, and a
  historian. One of the things I remember most
  vividly about him was how he was always trying to
  make things fit together. To him, science was a
  puzzle with mismatched pieces. But he
believed
  the pieces might match if you arranged them
  exactly right, or found some that were missing."
  McCoy sipped a cup of coffee and reached for
  a donut on a platter. "Where is your father?"
  "I don't l tilde now. He left
Collegium after my
  mother died I was a child because he didn't
  like the way things were done. He always was a
  bit of a maverick, didn't get along too
well with
  colleagues. We were never close anyway, so
we
  didn't keep in touch. But he was still working, on
  his own, trying to shove those puzzle pieces
  together. I heard about him from other people,
  read things he wrote his
  She stood in silence for a moment. "Anyway, he
  suddenly disappeared about five years ago."
  Kirk cocked his head. "Disappeared?"
  "That's the way it seemed. Nobody knew where
  he was. He stopped publishing." She shrugged.
  "Some people said he drowned in a storm while
  he was out in a small boat by himself But no
  wreckage or body was ever found. So,
he might be
  dead, or he might be alive. Nobody knows.
But
  before he dropped out of sight, I know he was
  working on trying to prove the Wwafida were
  real and still existed."

  McCoy's eyes narrowed reflectively.
"That's how
  all this started, isn't it, all this questioning of the
  harvest treaty."
  "Yeah. He managed to discover a previously
  unknown underwater mountain range. He didn't
  have the resources or equipment to really explore
  the way he wanted to. So he came to us at the
  Collegium and made peace with us long enough
  for a cooperative venture. That's when we
  retrieved those fossil bones, the ones that looked
  an awful lot like the contemporary ones your Dr.
  McPhillips found."
  "Did you ever prove they were Wwafida
  fossils?" asked Maybri, hunched anxiously
over
  the table.
  Llissa shook her head. "Well, I
shouldn't say
  definitively no my father thought they were. Our
  scientists didn't agree. That led to a huge
fight.
  He demanded the bones back, and we refused to
  let him have them. And that was the last time he
  ever spoke a civil word to anyone connected with
  Collegium."
  "I wish I could get those fossils into our
lab,"
  McCoy said.
  "So do 1. But Hhayd's Paladins
probably tore
  Collegium apart, and if they found the fossils,
I'm
  sure they're ground to dust by now."
  Maybri bounced her balled fists on the table.
  "Then we'll just have to find some more."
  "That," said Kirk, "sounds like an excellent
idea."
  Llissa's squared shoulders relaxed for the first
  time since she'd started her presentation. "I was
  hoping someone would say that." She grinned.
  "What would our next step be?" Kirk asked.
  "Can you locate that mountain range?"
  "I could if I had all our charts, but I
don't."
  "Charts," Kirk mused. "Particular charts,
or just
  complete charts of the planet's underwater
  geography?"
  "Any charts, as long as it's all there."
  "Greenberger, that's your next assignment,"
Kirk
  ordered. "Work with cartography and geology to
  do a full scan of Akkalla."
  Llissa slumped into her seat, her face dour.
  "There's a big problem, even after we locate the
  mountains."
  "What's that?" Kirk asked.
  "We have no way of getting down there. My
  research subs aren't on the Enterprise. Do you
  have anything that can dive

  six thousand meters under an ocean and protect
  people from the pressure?"
  Maybri spoke firse. "We did the
Cowleau.""
  "Scatty," said, "you've looked over the
damage
  reports on the Cousteau his
  "Aye, sir."
  "Do you have what it takes to fix her?"
  The chief engineer stiffened as if insulted.
  "Capt'n, I've got what it takes t'fix
anythin'."
  Kirk suppressed a smile. "We're counting
on
  you, Scotty. Let's get to work. Proving these
  Wwafida are real may be the only way we'll
get
  Spock and Chekov and the science team back
  alive."
  Chekov stood on his toes to peek out through
  the peephole in their cell door. "They're
coming."
  He skipped back as the lock clicked and the
  door creaked open. Four burly guards stepped
in,
  with chains and manacles obviously meant for
  Chekov and Spock.
  "Akkallan jewelry," Chekov muttered. With
one
  guard pointing a weapon at them, Chekov and
  Spock submitted, and their legs and
hands were
  soon in irons. A single sturdy chain linked
them
  together as they were led from their cell, but the
  guards refused to tell them where they were
  going.
  They negotiated several levels of descending
  steps, a walk made considerably more difficult
by
  the leg shackles. Finally, they exited into open
air
  and a damp drizzle as they stood on a shelf of
  rock cut out of the cliff wall. Spock
guessed the
  Citadel to be directly above them at the top
of
  the crag. The guards motioned them to continue
  down metal stairs hanging onto the sheer rock
as
  it inclined steeply down to the bay. At the
bottom,
  they reached a spindly pier where they were
  added to a score of milling prisoners, also bound
  in chains.
  "I see they're treating you like real
Akkallans,"
  boomed a familiar voice.
  Spock and Chekov turned to see the
  weathered-granite face of Zzev, the leader of the
  Cape Alliance band that had first welcomed them
  to the planet. He shuffled a little closer to them.
  "Didn't expect to see you two again."
  Spock's voice was neutral. "Our presence
here
  should be ample proof of our contention that
  neither we nor the

  science outpost were working in concert with the
  government."
  Zzev's head angled in a conciliatory
gesture. "I
  guess we were wrong about you after all."
  "A little late for regrets," Chekov hissed.
"If
  you'd trusted us before, we could've worked
  together and wouldn't be in these." He shook the
  heavy metal cuffs on his wrists.
  "What's passed is past, Chekov. Knowing what
  I know now, maybe we'd have done it differently.
  With a little luck, maybe we'll get a
second
  chance."
  "Indeed?" Spock asked. "Should we be
  extricated from this, might we consider that a
  firm proposal?"
  "Maybe. Why don't we worry about it when it
  happens."
  "If it happens," Chekov said glumly.
  "We were not informed as to our destination,"
  Spock said.
  "We're being taken to an offshore prison,"
Zzev
  said. "They need more room in the Citadel. I
  guess they're planning plenty of arrests.
Akkalla
  is now under third-stage martial law. You're
going
  to see people arrested for having the wrong color
  hair."
  A cutter with military markings glided up to the
  pier, and two helmeted guards secured its
  mooring lines to the pilings.
  "Where is this prison?" asked Spock.
  Zzev didn't answer immediately. His attention
  was momentarily distracted by a pair of
  late-arriving guardsmen who trotted down to
  exchange places with two troopers about to board
  the cutter with the prisoners. The two who'd been
  replaced seemed not to mind missing this trip,
  and they climbed back up toward the Citadel,
  disappearing inside the mountain's tunnels and
  passageways.
  "Uh, on a very small, inhospitable island. So
  small, it doesn't even have a name."
  "Who are the rest of these people?" Chekov
  asked as they were herded onto the boat rocking
  on gentle swells at dockside.
  "Scheme are Cape Alliance, others just
unlucky
  enough to be falsely accused."
  Five armed guards joined the two crewmen
  piloting the cutter, while the prisoners sat on
  short benches in a rear compartment arranged
  like a Roman slave-galley without

  the oars. The two newcomers to the guard detail
  circulated among the prisoners, locking chains
to
  floor anchors and securing shackles. Up in the
  cockpit, the pilots belted themselves
into their
  seats and called for the moorings to be detached.
  Deep inside the boat, engines hummed to life
with
  a turbinelike whistle but produced no vibration
at
  all.
  "What motive power source does this vessel
  use?" said Spock.
  Zzev shrugged. "Electromagnetic field
produced
  by the craft exerts force against conductor
  molecules in the water. No moving parts. Very
  efficient."
  "Indeed."
  The cutter accelerated smoothly away from
  shore, navigating around shoals and passing
  through the strait between the two towering cliffs
  protecting Haveasbay. Once clear of
hazards, the
  pilots throttled up, and the craft surged ahead
but
  lurched over each wave it was forced to traverse.
  That stumbling didn't last long, as hydrofoils
  unfurled from housings on both sides of the
hull.
  They lifted the boat above the whitecaps, and it
  skimmed toward open water.
  The rhythmic splash of waves brushing beneath
  the boat, the hum of the field generators below
  deck, and the warmth of the cabin all conspired to
  make Chekov doze. As he flopped forward, a
  chain dug into his side and he jerked upright,
  reorienting himself. Unfortunately, he was still on
  a prison transport, and a glance around told
him
  there was no land in sight. He wondered how far
  offshore this island was.
  Next to Spock, Zzev leaned over and whispered
  out the side of his mouth. "Whatever happens,
  don't interfere, and stay low."
  One of Zzev's hands slipped out of an
unlatched
  restraining cuff, and he slowly bent down to reach
  under a blanket beneath the bench. When he sat
  up, he cradled a palm-sized hand-weapon, then
  held it out of sight between his legs, pretending he
  was still firmly chained. Spock scanned the cabin
  and perceived that three other prisoners appeared
  to be free and armed. Had he not seen
what Zzev
  did, he never would have noticed anything
  unusual. Apparently, the five guards hadn't
  noticed either. They stood at their posts,

  three at the front of the cabin, two aft,
watching
  but not seeing.
  The guard in the right front corner made a
  half-turn toward his two troopmates, and he
  subtly pointed his weapon away from the
  prisoners. "Now!" he shouted, and he gunned
  down one of the other guards at point-blank
  range. All in a single instant, Zzev and the
other
  three armed prisoners wheeled to target the
  unsuspecting guards and pilots. As Spock,
  Chekov, and some of the others still shackled
  dropped to the floor, a flurry of shots
volleyed
  around the cabin for no more than five seconds.
  Then, as suddenly as the shooting started, it was
  over. Spock and Chekov sat up and took
stock.
  One guard was wounded and out of commission,
  two other troopers and two bystanding prisoners
  lay dead, and the fifth guard and the pilots were
  under the gun and disarmed. The lightning tilde uick
  revolt was a success.
  "How did you infiltrate one of your own agents
  into the Grolian Guard?" Chekov asked as
Zzev
  unlocked their chains with a pick. All around
  them, prisoners and jailers traded places.
  "Not everybody agrees with what the
  government's been doing. We have a small fifth
  column, but it's growing. And there was plenty of
  confusion at the Citadel this morning. I
  understand Commandant Hhayd tried to
  assassinate Ffaridor last night, and this
morning
  he was executed by the brigadier herself."
  Chekov flexed his wrists. "What happens
now?"
  "Well, we've got some prisoners and a powerful
  new cutter for the Alliance."
  "I am still interested in pursuing our proposal
to
  cooperate with each other. We have the resources
  of a starship to help you," Spock said.
  The Akkallan rebel pointed a thumb at the
  glowering sky. "But your starship's up there. We
  need help down here."
  "We may be able to afford such assistance, once
  we ascertain together what it is you require."
  "Weapons. Top of the list."
  Spock shook his head. "We cannot get involved
  in the fighting."
  "Then what can you do?" His voice was bitter.

  "We would like to help settle your disputes,"
  Spock said. "If you will allow us his
  "Zzev! Come up here hurry!"
  The shout came from one of the rebels in the
  cockpit, and Spock and Chekov followed
Zzov as
  he stepped around the new prisoners huddled in
  irons in midcabin.
  "What is it, Ppeder?"
  Ppeder sat in the primary pilot's seat, one
hand
  lightly gripping the steering bar, the other resting
  on the throttle. He was a stocky man with a
short
  muscular neck and a stubbly black
beard.
  "Incoming message listen was He turned up the
  volume on the cutter's radio.
  was sighted harvest fleet headingforyour immediate
  yicinity. You are ordered to abort your
transport
  mission and return to coastal waters until
harvest
  area is declared clear. Do not engage repeat do
  not engage! Estimated harvest danger zone
  coordinates seventy-f ye slash
one-forty-nine.
  Acknowledge his
  "Do it," Zzev ordered.
  Ppeder touched the transmit toggle and spoke
  into the unit. "Acknowledged."
  "It's a good thing we heard that," Chekov said
  with a relieved grin. "We could've sailed right
into
  the mouth of his
  "Full ahead," Zzov said. "Intercept."
  Chekov stared at him. "Are you insane?"
  Zzev shook his head. "No. Alliance members
  have sworn a pledge to do whatever we can to
  stop the harvests, even if it costs us
our lives."
  "I can understand your devotion to principle,"
  Spock said, "but I submit that such devotion
may
  be counterproductive. You are a leader in your
  movement. Your presence is necessary to his
  Zzev cut him off. "Nobody's more
important in
  the Alliance."
  "Theoretical egalitarianism is rarely
logical when
  applied to practical situations. Should you die in
  this action, there would be no opportunity to
  make use of the capabilities of the Enterprise.
I
  urge you to consider that."
  "This comes first, Spock. There's no other way.
  It's not our intention to commit suicide, believe
  me. We've devel

  oped techniques and strategies for this. We
  haven't lost any lives yet, not at this."
  "There's always a first time," Chekov mumbled.
  "We're not going to be alone," Ppeder said from
  the pilot's seat. "We've got two
boats headed for
  the zone. We've been in contact."
  Zzev pumped a clenched fist. "Good!"
  Something raised the hackles on Chekov's
  neck a prickly rumbling suddenly surrounding
  the cutter, permeating the air itself, mixing with
  the salt spray swirling around the speeding craft.
  The vibration picked up in intensity.
  "There to Out there!" One of the rebels, a
  curly-haired woman, pointed skyward off the
port
  bow. They all looked and they all saw it the
  Chorymi harvest fleet, a lumbering mother ship
  with a half-dozen fighters flitting like gnats off
its
  mighty flanks.
  Off in the distance, the other two Alliance boats
  skipped across the waves toward the same
  imaginary point of intersection as the liberated
  military vessel. Although the harvest ship hadn't
  even begun its final approach, the seas were
  already churning with high waves buffeting the
  cutter and breaking across the bow, spewing foam
  and spray through the cockpit windows.
  Chekov eyed the Akkallan rebels.
Suicidal or
  not, they were committed to this course. Shielding
  his face from glare, he looked up at the space
  fleet and his stomach heaved it wasn't
  seasickness, in spite of the roughening water. It
  was the sight of the mother ship tipping forward,
  its maw opening, beginning its inexorable descent
  to the ocean's surface. "Nyeba shchaditye
nashi
  byedni gluppi dushi, was he said prayerfully.
  "What was that, Chekov?" Spock asked.
  "Heaven have mercy on our poor stupid
souls...."
  Viewed from behind, the light spilling from the
  Enterprise's open hangar bay glowed like a warm
  hearth in a frigid and endless night. In an
  auxiliary control room suspended high over the
  cavernous hangar deck, Engineer Scott
nudged
  the tractor beam directional stick and eased the
  crippled marine shuttle Cousteau toward a
  comfortable and dry berth for repairs. Scott
  followed his progress on a

  pair of screens above the console, one
displaying
  a greenline schematic while the other showed
  actual pictures from cameras mounted at the
  starship's stern.
  "Just a wee bit further," he coaxed as the
  powerless little craft inched forward. With his free
  hand, he punched up a closer angle on the
video
  image viewer, revealing more details of the
  damage. "You're bent and bruised and
waterlogged,
  lassie, but we'll have you' gain' again."
  Scott thumbed the intercom. "Engineer
""bridge."
  "Kirk here. his
  "She's aboard, sir."
  "Estimated repair time, Scotty?"
  "Admiral, I haven't even looked at 'er
yet," Scott
  protested in his best put-upon voice. "How would
  the end o" the day be, sir?"
  Kirk kept a straight face, but his eyes
crinkled
  with amusement. "That would be fine. I'll come
  down for an inspection as soon as I can.
Don't
  forget to take before and after pictures."
  Scott allowed himself a half-smile. "Aye,
sir. Scott
  out."
  "Sir," said Ensign Greenberger from the bridge
  science station, "I think you may want to see this."
  Her fingers two-stepped across her keyboard, and
  the small viewscreen above the science console
  flickered as it sought to filter some heavy
  interference. "There!"
  The signal cleared, presenting a distinct but
  distant image of a Chorymi harvest convoy over
  Akkallan seas, poised in descent formation.
  "Where did they come from?"
  "I was just checking the atmospheric probe to
  see if it was still working, and there they were."
  Kirk frowned. "Why didn't they trip our
  deflectors, Mr. Sulu? Malfunction?"
  Sulu ran a test from his own board.
"Negative,
  sir no malfunction. Judging by their location,
I'd
  say they approached while we were one-eighty
  degrees away."
  "Used the planet as a shield," Kirk mused.
  "Good thing we kept the probe out there, sir,"
  Greenberger said.
  "Give us a closer look, ensign."
  "Aye, sir." She adjusted magnification on
the
  mother ship

  just as its scoop-front was locking into open
  position. The diamond-shaped fighters flitted
  away, as if they feared being sucked into the
  mouth of the harvest vessel.
  "Main viewer, ensign. And let's see if
there're
  any Akkak lan surface craft engaging the
harvest
  fleet."
  As Greenberger switched the video feed to the
  central screen, members of the bridge crew
  couldn't help splitting their attention between
  their own jobs and the images from the planet.
  The young science officer manipulated the probe's
  cameras, revealing Kirk's concern to be well
  founded a trio of small Akkallan boats
scudded
  across the waves, bent on converging in the heart
  of the harvest zone.
  The convoy and the boats played out the same
  death daring ballet as the starship crew had
  witnessed once before. As the giant vessel
dipped
  down toward the swirling ocean, the escort
  fighters wheeled, banked, and dove, trying to
  scare off the interfering boats to no avail. The
  fighters regrouped for a second pass their last,
  judging by the levering off of the mother ship at
  extremely low altitude. The waves were already
  forming into the heaving wall of water that would
  soon surge up toward the harvest vessel's
great
  mouth. This time, the fighters fired their cannons
  spitting blue flame from ventral ports, carving
an
  artfoi warning arc around the struggling boats.
  But the boats refused to yield. The fighters
  spiraled away, and the harvest ship lumbered
  forward. The boiling vortex of seawater rose
into
  the air, and the three Akkallan surface craft
  heeled hard over and sped toward the center
of
  the cyclone.
  Kirk's knuckles whitened as he gripped the
arms
  of his seat. "Veer off," he whispered, urging the
  boats to safety.
  At what must have been the last possible
  instant, two of the boats did just that. But the
  third wouldn't, or couldn't. It gyrated
wildly,
  bouncing completely out of the water like a stone
  skipping off the waves, then tumbled end over
  end. It began to break up, then stood on its bow
  as it was irretrievably caught in the frothing
  waterspout, finally splintering like a fragile
toy.
  Some pieces spun away, hurled
by centrifugal
  force, but the mechanised leviathan swallowed
  most of the debris.
  The horrific scene stunned the Enterprise
bridge
  crew into total silence, broken only by the pinging
  of automatic electronic gear and the chatter of
  status reports issuing from

  the rest of the starship, from personnel who
  hadn't watched what they had.
  Time itself seemed to stand still until the
  Chorymi harvest ship slowly closed its maw and
  rose into the funereal clouds hanging low in
  Akkalla's sky, joining its escorts for the
journey
  home. Down below, the remaining pair of boats
  circled gingerly back to the calming waters like
  stricken animals searching for a companion stolen
  from the herd. They nosed about in aimless
  patterns for a while, then limped away.
  Kirk let out a long-held breath, and all around
  the subdued bridge, his crew returned to work,
  trying to shake off what they'd seen, moving as if
  still dazed. But Uhura sat up with a start and
  clutched her earpiece tightly in place.
  "Admiral." Her voice came out hoarse,
  unbelieving, and she had to clear her throat
  before she could continue. "Message from from
  Mr. Spock!"
  Kirk's eyes opened wide, and he sucked in a
  sharp breath. "What?"
  "Message from Mr. Spock," the
communications
  officer repeated, more smoothly this time. She
  extended one graceful finger and ceremoniously
  switched the signal to external bridge
speakers.
  "On audio, sir. Go ahead, Mr.
Spock."
  "Admiral, we are alive and undamaged" The
  Vulcan sounded as impassive as ever.
  Kirk laughed out his relief and gave the
  intercom button on his armrest a jaunty jab.
  "We're mighty glad to hear that, Spock. But
where
  the hell have you been for the past week? And
  where are you now?"
  "A long and complicated tale which I look
  forward to relating from the comfort of the
  Enterprise."
  "The least you could've done was send us a
  postcard."
  "Pardon me, sir?"
  "Never mind, Spock, never mind. Uhura, are
we
  locked on to their signal?"
  "Coordinates already transferred to the
  transporter room."
  "Admiral." It was Chekov, sounding incredibly
  overjoyed. "Would you like us to bring you some
  fish?"
  "Fish, lieutenant?"
  "Yes, sir we're in the middle of the ocean."
  "No fish, Chekov. Are you ready to beam up?"

  "We are, sir," Spock answered. "But we
are a
  party of three. his
  "I suppose we'll get the explanation once
you're
  aboard."
  Kirk switched to an intraship channel.
  "Transporter room, beam up three from Mr.
  Spock's coordinates. When they're aboard,
tell
  them to report to sickbay." He switched to
  another channel. "Kirk to sickbay Bones,
I've got
  some customers for you."
  "Who?"
  "Spock and Chekov."
  "Hallelujah!"
  "They're beaming up now and heading directly
  for sickbay. Give "elan thorough exam. And
have
  Llissa meet us there I want to get started
  debriefing them right away."
  "I'm already here, Jim," Llissa's voice
replied.
  "That's great news about your of firers. How did
you
  find them?"
  "We didn't somehow, they found us. Anyway,
  we'll get the whole story from Spock and
Chekov.
  On my way. Kirk out."
  When he popped out near sickbay, he could
  hear shouting from McCoy's office and wondered
  what the hell was going on. He could make out
  Llissa on one end of the battle, but who was she
  arguing with? The sickbay doors whooshed open,
  and he saw McCoy and Chapel standing with
  Spock and Chekov, both looking a bit
tattered but
  otherwise healthy. They were all spectators as
  Llissa and an older man quarreled in voices
  rapidly reaching a crescendo. The man
had the
  raw-boned stance of an outdoorsman, with close-
  cropped hair the color of burnished steel and a
  weathered face.
  The bickering couldn't have been going on for
  long they just beamed up, for godsakes but it
  was already way past the point of communicating,
  well along toward coming to blows. Kirk couldn't
  make out more than an occasional word, so he
  waded in and physically shoved Llissa and the
  newcomer to opposite sides of the room.
  "That's enough!" he thundered, and found
  himself surrounded by sudden and profound
  silence.
  McCoy leaned close to Spock. "I didn't
know he
  could yell that loud."
  "Quiet!" Kirk barked, making McCoy
snap to
  mock

  attention. "Spock, Chekov, good to have you back.
  Now who is this?" He stabbed a finger toward the
  stranger.
  "He is one of the leaders of the Cape
Alliance,
  Admiral," said Spock. "We thought his
presence
  might be useful in dealing with the problems on
  Akkalla."
  "Uh-huh. And does he have a name, Mr.
Spock?"
  "Yes, sir. Zzev his
  "Kkayn," Llissa finished, standing with hostile
  arms folded across her chest.
  The captain and the doctor did double-takes
  and wound up staring at Llissa. Spock and
  Chekov simply looked confused. "Wha ?" was
all
  Kirk could manage to say.
  "Zzev Kkayn," Llissa replied in a
brittle tone.
  "My father."
  CAPTAIN'S LOO tilde STARDATE
7828.8:
  Lieutenant Chekov and Flrst Officer
Spock hew
  been certified physically fit by Dr. McCoy
and
  have returned to duty. By combining our
  information, we have a much more complete
  picture of the situation on Akkalia, though it
  remains to be seen whether that helps us
  ascertain the fates of Dr. McPhillips and
her
  missing science team. Chief Engineer Scott
  continues repair work on the shuttle Cousteau, a
  vessel we're going to need in perfect working
  order if we're to explore the Akkallan
ocean for
  evidence to support the existence of me legendary
  Wwafida. We now have aboard the Akkallan
  scientist who's been the driving force behind
  efforts to prove these mysterious sea creatures
are
  still alive. That means we have Zzev Kkayn's
  knowledge and guidance. Unfortunately, we also
  find ourseives in the middle of a bitter and
  long-standing feud between Dr. Kkayn and his
  daughter Llissa.
  Kirk hated to lecture anyone about anything, but
  on rare occasions he could be driven to it a
  classic, fingerwagging, squarejawed,
  no-counterpoints-allowed lecture. This was one of
  those times. He sat Zzev and Llissa
Kkayn down
  in none-too-soft sickbay lab chairs, right
next to
  each other. He chased McCoy, Chapel,
Spock,
  and Chekov out of the medical office and locked
  the door. He warned Uhura in the tersest of
  terms that she wasn't to disturb him with any
  messages or calls from anyone until further
  notice, unless

  said messages dealt with the imminent end of the
  universe. In that unlikely circumstance, he
would
  allow a note slipped under the door.
  For a full haf-hour, he remained closeted with
  the IC-KAYOS, informing them of the rules of life
  on the starship Enterprise and making damn
  certain they understood what was at stake now.
  He honestly didn't care what personal and
familial
  animosities they'd nursed for the past thirty
years.
  At this moment, they had a common cause.
  Distasteful as it might be, they were on the
same
  team; and, frankly, they needed Kirk's help
to
  accomplish anything. They might have to
  compromise with each other, something they'd
  evidently never been able to do in the past.
  "I've got no time or energy to run a family
  counseling service," Kirk snapped. "We have
a job
  to do. We all have something to gain by success.
  We all pull together, or I'll beam you both
down
  and let the Publican deal with you. Is all this
  crystal clear to both of you?"
  Father and daughter reacted with silence and
  the same downcast eyes, looking more like a
  couple of chastened schoolchildren than two
  eminent scientists. Kirk noticed a fleeting
family
  resemblance, and he almost laughed. Almost. He
  called security to escort Zzev and Llissa
to their
  quarters separate quarters, different decks in
  fact and when they'd gone, he found Spock and
  McCoy waiting in the sickbay
examining room.
  "I'm impressed, Jim," McCoy said with a
grin.
  "You ever thought of being a psychologist or a
  hellfire an" damnation preacher?"
  Kirk felt drained. "How do you know what I
  said?"
  "tilde Cross circuited the intercom and
patched into
  my office. Heard every word."
  Kirk looked mildly annoyed. "I thought you
  were a doctor; not a communications engineer."
  "A man of many talents," McCoy answered
  modestly.
  "Spock didn't you stop him?"
  "He couldn't, Jim," said McCoy. "I
threatened to
  use my medical authority and prolong his next
  physical."
  The first thing Kirk noticed upon entering the
  briefing room was that the Doctors Kkayn had
  chosen seats at opposite ends of the table.
Spock,
  McCoy, and Scott sat on
  183
  one side, leaving a chair empty for Kirk.
Maybri
  and Greenberger sat together across from the
  senior officers. The two youngsters had done such
  good jobs in Spock's absence that Kirk
decided to
  let them continue working on the Akkallan
  situation.
  "Computer his
  "Working. his
  "Display Akkallan topography charts."
  The main viewer on the wall lit up with a
  computergenerated relief map of the entire
  planet, including the floor of the seas. The
  underwater mountain range that Zzev had wanted
  to explore rose up like a sawtooth spine from the
  bottom of the Boreal Ocean up north. The
  mountains were a third of the way around the
  globe from the mainland continent, with only a
  few insignificant islands dotting the water's
surface
  anywhere nearby. Past the northernmost tip of the
  mountain chain were two groupings of larger
  islands, up near Akkalla's arctic circle.
  "How does our chart compare with what you
  mapped?" asked Kirk.
  "Looks like home," Llissa said. "Everything's
  right where it should be."
  "And that's where you found your fossils?"
  "My fossils, Kirk," Zzev said.
  Kirk ignored the provocation. "All right does
  it make sense to center the search in the same
  area?" Both Llissa and Zzev nodded.
"Zzev, show
  us exactly where you were." Kirk picked up a
  penlight laser, clicked it on, and aimed the red
  pinpoint beam at the viewscreen. Then he handed
  it to Kkayn, who zeroed in on a widening of the
  range, on the west face, a quarter of the way
  down from the north tip.
  "Right there, Kirk."
  "Mr. Scott, are repairs on the Cousteau
  completed?"
  "Aye, sir. M'crew is just completin" tests
on "er
  now."
  "Computer," Kirk said, "rotational view."
  The image on the viewer changed from sectional
  relief maps to a three-dimensional depiction of
  Akkalla spinning on its axis but
stripped bare of
  its watery cloak. Kirk gazed at the screen
as the
  simulated planet began at the mainland, then
  rotated from west to east. The western seaboard
  of the continent, with Havensbay and the capital
  of Tyvol, slid by,

  then out of sight. For a long time, a third of a
  revolution, there was nothing but the irregular
  pocks and rifles of the ocean basin. Finally, they
  reached the mountain range that was their target.
  "Those mountains sure are a long way from
  land," Kirk said softly.
  "That's one reason nobody knew they were
  there," Zzev said. "Nobody had any real
reason to
  look."
  Kirk folded his hands on the table. "Okay, if
we
  find more fossils, where does that leave us?"
  "With proof," Zzev said, "that the Wwafida are
  real."
  "Were real," McCoy pointed out.
  "If we can match any new fossils
to the
  contemporary bones McPhillips found,"
Llissa
  said, "that'll prove they're still alive
  today somewhere."
  Kirk shook his head. "We've got to have enough
  ammunition on our side to shoot down all
doubts.
  We're going to have to find a living specimen."
  Maybri's ear tips twitched. "Matching the
fossils
  and the recent bones has to come first, sir. If we
  can do that, we'll know we're actually looking for
  something that exists."
  "May exist," McCoy said. "Those bones
we've
  got date from ten years ago. If they really are
  from one of these Wwafida, how do we know it
  wasn't the last of its kind?"
  "Leonard McCoy, optimist," Llissa said
with a
  scowl.
  "I'm just trying to keep things in scientific
  perspective here. The best hypothesis in the world
  isn't worth beans without irrefutable,
reproducible
  evidence."
  Llissa shrugged. "Leonard's right. We're
getting
  all excited over possibilities. It's a
good thing
  you're so logical, McCoy."
  Spock's eyebrow rose sharply. He looked
at
  Kirk. "Has Dr. McCoy undergone some
sort of
  metamorphosis, Admiral?"
  "Well," Kirk shrugged. "You have been gone a
  whole week, Mr. Spock."
  "I should have doubted that an entire lifetime
  would be sufficient for a modification of such
  magnitude."
  McCoy fixed Spock with an unHinching look:
  "Somebody had to fill those Vulcan shoes while
  you were missing, Spock. Wasn't too
difficult, I
  might add."

  Kirk stiDed a snicker. "Let's go
explore Dr.
  Kkayn's mountains. Scottyeaplease prepare
the
  shuttle for launching. Zzev, Llissa, and
Spock will
  go with me."
  Maybri's face darkened by several shades,
  betraying her disappointment. But before she
  could decide whether to protest, Spock spoke
up.
  "Admiral, Lieutenant Maybri is more
familiar
  with Akkalla's undersea topography than 1.
I
  suggest you take her instead. In order to be most
  effective, I believe I can use the time
aboard to
  review events that transpired during my
absence."
  Kirk frowned. "I haven't piloted a marine
shuttle
  be fore."
  "Mr. Chekov proved to be a skilled
pilot."
  "All right, Spock. Recommendation accepted.
  Maybri, pack up whatever you think
we'll need."
  Kirk switched on the intercom. "Mr.
Chekov,
  report to the hangar deck in twenty minutes."
  Kirk, Greenberger, and Spock returned to the
  bridge.
  "Mr. Sulu," the admiral asked, "any
sign of
  Chorymi ships since their last appearance?"
  "Negative, sir. And they won't sneak up
on us
  again using the planet as a shield we've had
  long-range sensors sweeping intrasystem
space
  between Akkalla and Chorym."
  Spock clasped his hands behind his back.
  "Admiral, a few recommendations, based on
  assessments of Akkallan military
technology. They
  have a moderately effective detection system for
  tracking air vehicles. Originally intended
to help
  the Child tilde rymi harvest convoys, it is now
directed
  at repelling them. And as we have seen,
they do
  have surface-to-air missiles with which to attack.
  You will be unescorted and will be at much
  greater risk than the Chorymi harvest craft
was.
  Minimize your low-altitude Qying."
  "We should use the shuttle submarine
capacities?"
  "Affirmative.. We can attempt to cloak your
  approach to some degree by sweeping the area
  with our own sensors. It will confuse the
Akkallabled
  defense scanners. But it will also interfere with
  your sensors aboard the shuttle."
  "What about radio contact, Spock? Can they
  detect signals?"
  The science officer nodded. "Yes. Contacts should
  be kept

  to a minimum, decreasing the chances that your
  presence will be noticed."
  "Very well. You have the cone, Mr. Spock."
  "Jim, in the event of severe interference with
  your mission was Spock began.
  "I see what you're getting at. Use
minimal force.
  I don't want us killing any Akkallans.
I trust you
  to come up with nonlethal alternatives. From our
  standpoint, I don't want to lose the Cousteau
  again. She's the most valuable tool we've got
to
  find out what we need to know." He stood. "Do
  what seems . . . Iogical."
  The turbolift doors hissed open and McCoy
  came onto the bridge.
  "You'll have McCoy to help," Kirk said with a
  grin.
  The Cousteau vibrated slightly as it sliced
into
  Akkalla's increasingly dense atmosphere.
Friction
  heated the shuttle's skin, and a pink glow curled
  up around the craft, fogging the viewscreen and
  windows with a fiery haze.
  Kirk gave the sensors a cursory look, and
ship's
  functions registered normally. Chekov throttled
  back, and the shuttle jittered for a few seconds

  it passed through the cloud cover. The viewers
  cleared, and though the sea was still another five
  kilometers beneath them, it loomed up quickly.
  "All right, Mr. Chekov, how does this
shuttle
  submerge?"
  "Theoretically," Chekov began.
  "What do you mean, theoretically?"
  "Well, we never got to do any actual diving,
sir."
  "All right then," Kirk said. "Theoretically."
  "It can dive straight into the ocean, or it can land
  first."
  "I'd prefer landing first."
  Chekov nodded. "Aye, sir." He reduced the
  shuttle's angle of descent and rate of speed,
  settling into a soft touchdown on top of a calm
  sea. Gentle swells rolled the craft from
side to
  side.
  The Russian flipped a trio of switches,
inducing
  a hydraulic throb deep within the ship. Then they
  began to sink, with waves splashing over the
  windows and viewer.
  Kirk swallowed, popping his ears to adjust to
  the increased pressure. He looked at the
viewer
  as the last sliver of sky disappeared, and he felt
a
  sudden hush envelop them. Since the craft was
  sealed against all outside environments,

  this new feeling was probably psychological, but
  that didn't make it any less tangible. Kirk
hadn't
  been underwater like this in years, and the
  experience brought on a mixed batch of
  sensations: fear at being completely enfolded in
  an alien environment, surrounded by dangers
  unseen and unheard; isolation and yet, at the
  same time, a security perhaps akin to floating in
  a womb, surrounded by wonders, being one with
  life never before encountered.
  The melodic pinging of the shuttle's sensors
  drew Kirk back from his reflections. "Course
laid
  in, Mr. Chekov?"
  "Aye, sir."
  "Ahead, full."
  Chekoveased the throttle up, and the shuttle
  responded with a smooth surge. Kirk felt a
tap on
  his shoulder and turned to find Maybri in the
  hatchway.
  "Permission to open observation ports and start
  recording, sir?"
  "Affirmative, lieutenant." Then he lowered
his
  voice to a whisper. "Keeping the peace back
  there?"
  "So far, so good, sir." She ducked under the
  cross-beam and returned to the rear cabin, finding
  a small control panel protected by a
  smoked-plexiglass screen. With a touch of a
  button, it slid up. She threw a set of
toggles, and
  the port covers retracted, converting much of the
  side walls into clear windows. In addition, four
  video screens displayed images from dorsal and
  ventral cameras, so they could see what was going
  on above and below the shuttle. Maybri reacted
  with delight, scurrying from side to side and
  screen to screen, trying to see everything at once.
  The Akkallan ocean teemed with life
darting
  between beams of light knifing down through the
  shallows, first racing toward this intruder in their
  world, then veering off an instant before collision.
  A mist of microscopic creatures sifted through
  the light rays, drifting with the current's eddies.
  Schools of thousands of streamlined fish moved as
  if linked together, following the clouds of tiny
  creatures that made up their food, light from
  above strobing off their sides as the mass
  undulated through their silent cosmos.
  As the Cousteau descended, the watery world
  outside rapidly darkened. All around the
craft's
  hull, powerful beams turned the perpetual night
  of the deep into midday,

  and what they revealed in their blaze astonished
  the starship officers. If anything, there was more
  life in this darker, colder realm than in the
  shallows still served by the sun
  ornate shells powered by water jets thrusting
  out a rear orifice, like living armored warships
  Gelatinous bags with propellerlike
appendages
  at both ends, capable of spinning so fast they
  became blurs as the sack creatures sped after
  prey
  fluttery tendrils attached to what looked like
  a hunk of drifting flotsam. When an
unsuspecting
  fish nosed up to try to eat the plantlike
tendrils,
  a jagged pincer flashed out, clamped onto the
  fish, and yanked it inside for digestion
  bulbous fish with outsized tusks jutting from
  their lower jaws
  a creature that looked like a comical pair of
  floating lips, decorated in brilliant
multicolored
  stripes. When a gelatinous sack stopped
spinning
  its propellers near the lips, they parted and spat
  an inky, viscous stream that surrounded the sack
  and paralysed it. The lips sucked their victim
  inside
  and a diaphanous net, shimmering like silver
  strands in the shuttle's floodlights.
  Chekov dropped the craft down, trying to go
  under the net. But it extended deeper and
  deeper; the lower the ship's light beams went, the
  more of the endless net came into view.
  "Is that net alive?" Kirk called to the
scientists
  in the back.
  "Yes, Jim," Llissa said. "You don't
want to run
  into it if you can avoid it."
  "That may not be possible. It seems to go on
  forever. Is it dangerous?"
  "it cranks out quite an electromagnetic charge.
  I don't know what it might do to the ship if it
  traps us."
  "Chekov, deflectors?"
  "They won't work under water, Admiral."
  " Then keep diving. And stop forward motion.
  Don't get any closer to it."
  "Forward motion is stopped, sir. It's coming
  toward us."
  Llissa watched on one of the viewers. "It
looks
  like it's decided to see if we're edible."
  "Are we?" Kirk asked warily.

  "Not edible, exactly, but it might be able
to hurt
  us."
  "Can we hurt it first?"
  Before Kirk could get an answer, the net
  creature reached the shuttlecraft and folded
  around the nose cone, making little scraping
  sounds on the hull as thousands of suckers sealed
  onto the metal. Kirk looked out the side
port and
  saw some of them pucker for a grip. A second
  later, main power sputtered and winked off,
  taking cabin lights, all major systems, and
  instruments with it. flatteries kicked in, powering
  up emergency life-support pumps and lights.
A
  smattering of gauges glowed in the dim cockpit.
  "Anybody have any ideas?- Kirk asked.
"What if
  we channel some sort of charge through the hull?"
  "Won't work, Kirk," Zzev replied. "It
likes energy."
  "Then what doesn't it like?"
  "Shallower depths and lower pressures. You've
  got to get us closer to the surface."
  Kirk huddled with Chekov. "Can we do
it?"
  ""We've got no power for the engines."
  "Batteries?"
  "They'd be drained so much so fast, we might
  lose life support before we hit the surface.
The
  only other choice is filling ballast tanks with
  oxygen. Once we do that, we'll have no way of
  refilling them, so we'll lose that option in case
  anything goes wrong later on."
  "Mr. Chekov, if we don't get this net thing
off us
  in a hurry, we won't have any later on
to worry
  about. Hit the ballast tanks."
  Chekov hunted for the valve controls, found
  them, and opened the tanks. The shuttle began to
  rise immediately, staggering like a punchy
  prizefighter. Kirk watched anxiously for
signs of
  the suction cups letting go. With the Cousteau's
  external lights off, they were engulfed in darkness
  again, limiting visibility to nothing. Those suckers
  on the windows were their only guide.
  "We have risen five hundred meters,
sir,"
  Chekov said, his face inches from the green
digital
  depth meter. "Is it working?"
  "Not yet. Zzev, are you sure was One sucker
  popped off, then another. "It's leaving!"
  Suddenly the net creature released its grip
all at
  once, as if being ripped away. Shuttle
systems
  flickered back on, and

  Chekov monitored all the vital readouts.
  "Admiral, full power is restored."
  "Cut off the ballast tanks, Chekov,"
Kirk said
  quickly. "Hold our position here."
  "Aye, sir."
  The ship groaned as it stopped its rapid
ascent,
  and Kirk poked his head into the rear cabin.
  "Zzev, you sure were right about it not liking
  shallower depths. That thing took off in a
hurry."
  "Utah, Jim," Llissa said, "it was
pulled off."
  "By what? That net stretched forever. What
  could be big enough to was Kirk's voice trailed
off
  as he became aware of something gigantic
  swimming past the side observation ports. The
  external lights were back on, and Kirk
carefully
  approached the window, not certain he wanted to
  be introduced to any more Akkallan sea life.
By
  the time he looked out, whatever he thought he'd
  glimpsed was gone. "Did I or did I not
see
  something extremely large?"
  "You bet you did," said Maybri quietly.
She
  turned to the Kkayns. "What was it?"
  "A triteera," Zzev said. "The way that
ganiphage
  got yanked off, I'd say it was more than one."
  Kirk squinted. "What's a triteera?"
  Llissa pointed over his shoulder, out the
  opposite observation window. "That's a
triteera."
  Kirk whirled in time to see a mottled
dark-grey
  mass filling the entire port as it passed no more
  than five meters from the shuttlecraft. "That thing
  must've been thirty meters long."
  "At least," Llissa said. She joined Kirk
at the
  port, and he got his first full view of the
triteera
  as it turned gracefully away from them. Kirk
saw
  it was shaped something like a terran whale in
  profile, but with a bony beak at its front end,
four
  flippers protruding from its side, a jagged
spine
  running the length of its back, and a towering,
  triple-fluked tail propelling it effortlessly
with
  powerful swishes.
  "Awesome animals, aren't they?" said Llissa.
  The one that brushed by the shuttle joined a
  herd containing more triteera than Kirk could
  count, extending out in their deep domain, well
  past the reach of the Cousteau's illumination.
"Are
  they dangerous?"
  Llissa shook her head. "Just the opposite.
They're
  gentle

  giants They go out of their way to avoid small
  boats, and there are stories of them saving people
  from drowning by pushing them to the surface.
  We don't really know too much about them
  because they usually swim far offshore. But that
  rescue behaviorin those stories coincides with
  what they do to aid babies or sick
individuals in
  the herd."
  Maybri's ear tips perked. "Why did they
pull off
  the net thing?"
  "The ganiphage," Llissa prompted.
"Triteera eat
  ganiphages. They love them, in fact. We
probably
  would've gotten it offjust by surfacing, but this was
  a lot faster. And we managed to save some of the
  ballast air supply in case we need
it later."
  "Well," Kirk said, "we owe one to the
triteera."
  "We'll probably see them again," Zzev
added.
  "It's spring, and they're heading north to their
  favorite feeding grounds. It's where the
equatorial
  currents meet arctic waters. The
temperature
  difference churns up the best nutrients from the
  bottom, causes an incredible soup of
  microorganisms, and that in turn attracts
all sorts
  of other creatures. To top it off, the water's
pretty
  shallow up there. There's a plateau that rises
close
  enough to the surface to get some sunlight. Makes
  it even more fertile. All the triteera have to do is
  swim with their beaks open, and they gorge
  themselves."
  One of the giant beasts swept by the shuttle as
  if on cue, and Kirk grinned. "Sounds like
triteera
  paradise."
  Llissa frowned. "Except for one thing, Jim.
  They've got no real predators, so they just
sort of
  lumber along in herds that stretch for kilometers.
  That makes them perfect targets."
  "I thought you said they had no natural
  predators," Maybri interrupted.
  "They didn't until the hanest ships came
along.
  Triteera are their favorite catch. Once they
start
  feeding, they don't like to pay attention to
  anything but that. By the time they realize a
  harvest ship's bearing down on them, it's too
late
  for a lot of them."
  "That's right," Zzev said. "Their only escape
  route is diving. But the hanest ships might
take a
  couple of hundred in a single sweep. Lots of
  return for very little effort."

  "Does that mean we're going to be in a target
  area, too?" Kirk asked with concern.
  "Anywhere there're triteera," Zzev growled,
"is
  a target area. But we'll be safe as long as
we stay
  deep."
  Kirk turned to the cockpit. "Any damage,
  lieutenant?"
  "No, sir. All systems nominal. We're
ready to go."
  "Llissa, any suggestions for avoiding those
  ganiphage net things?" Kirk asked.
  She nodded. "Dive deep right here. They tend
  to congregate at middle depths. Once we're
below
  that, we shouldn't run into any more of them."
  "You heard her, Chekov. Take us 'way
down."
  "Aye, sir."
  As they started descending, Kirk leaned against
  the viewing port and watched the triteera playing
  and nuzzling, and he recalled the fate of so many
  of Earth's cetacean species, hunted
to extinction
  in the twentieth and twentyfirst centuries. He
  hoped these Akkallan creatures would
fare better.
  He and the others aboard the Cousteau already
  owed their lives to the giant animals. If he
  possibly could, Kirk was determined to return the
  favor.

  Chapter Nine
  AS THE COUSTEAU sailed through silent depths,
  Kirk marveled at how much the ocean floor
  resembled the land, with mountains and valleys,
  troughs and channels, craters, and featureless
  plains of mud and silt. Many of the mountain
  summits wore a coat of white powder, almost like
  snow, consisting of skeletons of tiny organisms
  from above, drifting down once they died. Other
  mountains in Zzev's range were steep-sided
cones,
  never subject to erosion by frost or the cutting
  force of patient rivers. Some stretches of the
flat
  sea floor were humped with huge dunes, shifting
  like desert dunes on dry land as strong currents
  scoured the bottom like gales.
  And even at these great depths, there was
  life less numerous, less colorful,
but even
  stranger than the forms they'd seen at
midlevels.
  Many were bioluminescent, their bodies producing
  the only light in this realm of perpetual darkness.
  Still other creatures lived not only without light
  but without sight as well, using tentacles,
  oscillating cilia, and other organs to sense their
  environment.
  They were eight kilometers below sea level,
  where the crushing pressure came close to testing
  the structural limits of the Cousteau. Zzev
  crouched in the cockpit hatch silently watching
  the viewers, the ports, and the navigational chart
  projected on a computer grid. In the short time
  he'd known Zzev Kkayn, Kirk had learned
that
  this Akkallan-wouldn't hesitate to speak up if
he
  thought something was wrong another
  characteristic father shared with daughter,
  although neither would admit it. The fact that

  Zzev was quiet as Chekov piloted the ship was
  taken as an indication that they were on the
  correct bearing.
  But to Kirk, all the exotic scenery had taken
on
  a disconcerting sameness. "Zzoveaare you sure
  you'll be able to find the caves?"
  "We'll find them. And I'll finally get to see
what's
  inside."
  "You mean you never went in?"
  "Our exploration was cut short last time." He
  flashed a brief glare at Llissa, who was
too busy
  huddling with Maybri over a computer terminal to
  notice.
  "Then where did you find the fossils?"
  "On a higher plateau. And I think we're coming
  up on the spot."
  They watched the sidescan sensors, probing the
  range's craggy flanks. The computer
  instantaneously digested the scanners" data and
  drew a three-dimensional depiction. At every
  point where the sensors detected an opening in
  the rock facade, they fired a measuring beam to
  chart the depth of the fissure. Then the screen
  displayed a
three-hundredsixty-degree
  cross-sectional image of the inside of the opening,
  spinning it around to show offall angles. So far,
  nothing qualified as a cave.
  Not far ahead, the floodlights played across a
  flat outcropping beetling out from the slope.
  "Slow down," Zzev ordered. He tilted the
  forelights down to reveal the squared contours of
  a mesa dropping off toward the ocean floor.
Then
  he cross-referenced with the navigational chart.
  "This is it," he said with certainty.
  "Where's this cave of yours?" Kirk asked.
  "A little farther ahead. Go slow, Chekov. And
  deeper."
  The Russian nudged the shuttlecraft forward
at
  a crawl, and Zzev and Kirk stared at the
sensor
  readout, which continued to show only the
  smooth slope. Then the image changed. The
  computer raced to analyze anomalous data and
  flashed the rotating view of the interior of an
  opening big enough to be a cave.
  "That's it!" Zzev crowed.
  Kirk rested a hand on Chekov's shoulder.
"Let's
  take a closer look."
  With a nod, Chekov steered the shuttle to
  starboard, examining the mountain's dark face
  with roving beams. Zzev and Kirk watched
  expectantly through the front ports.

  "Not so fast," Zzov reprimanded. "Let me do
it."
  He edged Chekov off the illumination remote and
  guided the beams with a deliberate hand. Finally,
  he found what he sought a distinct entrance to
  a cleft in the stone side of the mountain.
  "This vessel won't fit through that opening."
  "Maybri tells me you've got two diving
suits
  aboard that can withstand the pressures at this
  depth. I'm volunteering to go."
  "I'm not accepting volunteers. We'll move
a safe
  distance away from the mountains and send a
  remote probe in to take a look around.
Maybri."
  "Aye, sir," she said, turning right to the
  computer to call up the probe control program.
  Zzev looked displeased as he retreated to the
  rear cabin to watch Maybri at work. With arms
  crossed, Llissa gave her father a sidelong
stare.
  "Don't give km a hard time," she scolded.
  "You're finally getting to do what you've wanted
  for years."
  "I'd like a little more cooperation."
  "You're getting more cooperation than you
  deserve. And you'd better remember, this isn't
  being done for you. it's being done for the whom
  planet."
  The ship vibrated as the probe popped out of a
  storage compartment in the shuttle's belly and
  floated free. One video screen at
Maybri's console
  showed the view from the probe's camera, while
  the other showed the probe itself, a fat torpedo
  with three jointed arms tipped with fourfingered
  grippers. Zzov hovered over Maybri's
shoulder,
  feigning casual disinterest.
  "Uh, what can that thing dot"
  Maybri smirked. "Anything we can.
Probe's on
  its way, Admiral." The hand-held remote
device
  had a simple joystick for all directional
control,
  with side levers to manipulate the arms and claws.
  Up front, Chekov maneuvered the Cousteau to
  its position of safety. Kirk bent low and
left the
  cockpit to see how Maybri was doing.
Onscreen,
  they watched the probe's-eye view as it
  approached the rift opening, powerful broadbeam
  lights shining in all directions from its stubby
hull.
  Maybri deftly guided it through the opening and
  zoomed the lens to the widest possible angle.
  After advancing

  through the narrow passageway, the probe
  revealed an interior that abruptly broadened to
  form a wide but low burrow cutting into the heart
  of the mountain, its walls a jumble of curves and
  angles hinting at the violent natural forces that
  shaped it. The probe nosed into corners
and
  niches, beams invading places that had never
  known light before.
  Maybri spotted several stalks rooted in the
sand,
  swaying with the now of the water. Stopping the
  probe, she used the camera lens for a closer
look
  and found each stalk had a mouth and a writhing
  bouquet of feelers around its head. "Are those
  animals?"
  "Mm-hmm," said Zzev. "Canth eels."
  "They live in caves?"
  "Yeah. They filter microorganisms that
float in
  on the current."
  "Not a very interesting existence," Maybri
  sniffed. "Just sitting there."
  "They display a more active behavior pattern,
  given the right stimulus," Zzev said.
  The lieutenant edged the probe forward.
  Without warning, the canth eels erupted out of
  the sand, turning from swaying stalks into long
  snakes, thrashing like whips as they Dung
  themselves at the mechanical intruder. The
  startling attack lasted less than a minute, and
  when they were satisfied that the probe was
  neither edible nor dangerous, they daintily
  reinserted their bodies into the sand and resumed
  their passive wobbling, leaving Maybri in open-
  mouthed amazement.
  "I told you they could be more active," Zzev
  said with an impish smile. "They bury ninety
  percent of their length in the sand for
  camouflage. When they sense something bigger
  than micro-life, something that they either want
  to eat or that poses a threat, they do what we just
  saw."
  "How dangerous are they?" Kirk asked.
  Llissa considered. "Well, they've got tiny
  razor-sharp teeth, and they're constrictors,
too."
  "Are they aggressive?"
  "If you steer clear of them, they won't come out
  chasing you," Zzev said.
  "Admiral," Maybri said, her voice rising,
"I think
  we've found something."

  Everyone turned to a screen displaying the
  probe's view, watching with anticipation as the
  remote arm and hand carefully picked through silt
  on the cave Hoor, stirring up a veil of
particles
  that obscured the picture. Maybri operated by
  feel, clamped onto a firm object, and
backed the
  probe away from the murky cloud. Once in
clearer
  water, she directed the sensitive claw to hold
up
  its prize, a fossilised bone.
  Zzev Kkayn clapped his hands in triumph.
"I
  knew we'd find bones here."
  "Bone," Kirk corrected, emphasising the
singular.
  "No, sir," Maybri said. "Bones." The
probe's
  second claw held two more bones, and all
three
  were different sizes.
  At Kirk's order, she told the little robot
to stow
  the fossils and return to the Cousteau.
Once
  aboard, they brought the bones up to the main
  deck for a closer look and decided they would
  need the facilities on the Enterprise to date
and
  analyze them. Kirk opted for returning
to space
  right away.
  "There's a treasure trove in there," Zzev
argued.
  "We're already here. It's stupid to turn back
now."
  "Calling the mission commander stupid isn't the
  best way to get what you want," Kirk said
dryly.
  "Admiral," Maybri said softly, "I think
Dr. Kkayn
  is right."
  Kirk's brow wrinkled. "Go on,
lieutenant."
  "The probe is a useful tool, sir, but it's
no
  replacement for human hands and eyes and
  brains. If I don't have the camera and lights
  pointed just right, we could be missing the find
of
  a lifetime. I'm volunteering to go in myself, if
  you'll let me. With two people, I think we'll be
  able to explore that cave twice as fast and be done
  with it, whatever we find."
  Kirk pursed his lips. "You've made some good
  points, lieutenant. All right, two people will go
  into the cave his
  "That's more like it," Zzov growled.
  was and you're not one of them," Kirk continued,
  ignoring the outrage on Zzev's face. "I
don't trust
  your judgment, Dr. Kkayn. Thorough
exploration
  is important, but so is caution, and I don't
think
  that word's in your vocabulary. Llissa, you and I
  will go in, if you want to."
  "I'll go. A long time ago, my father called
me a
  hothouse flower, devoted to books and theories,"
  Melissa said. She

  cocked her head at Zzev. "This seems like a
good
  time for a little hands-on experience."
  Down in me cramped air-lock, Kirk and
Llissa
  prepared for their excursion climbing into
  contoured, hard-shell diving suits with flexible
  joints and clear helmets that allowed an
  unobstructed view. Each suit had a small
power
  and propulsion unit fastened to the back and
  lights attached to both arms, as well as an
  omnidirectional beacon on top of the helmet.
  "The suit's so light, Jim. How does it
work?"
  "It's what we call a gill suit. It
filters breathable
  oxygen right out of the water. Same principle on
  a larger scale provides the air for this shuttle
  when it's underwater. As for the specifics was He
  shrugged, then indicated a stem coming up from
  inside the suit and curving across his chin. "This
  is your communications pickup. It's
  voice-actuated. Just press this" he flipped a
  rocker switch on his suit's left forearm "and
it's
  on." He handed her a helmet and made
sure she
  locked it properly on her neck ring. Then he
put
  his own helmet on, activated both their
  communicators, and checked the pressure-seal
  safety light. "Elow do you feel?"
  "Claustrophobic, but reasonably comfortable."
  "Then let's go exploring. Mr. Chekov?"
  "Aye, sir," came the reply in his earpiece.
They
  both heard it on the open-channel system.
  "We're leaving the ship now." He hefted a
  flexible-mesh carrier containing some
  long-handled tools for poking, digging, and sifting.
  Llissa toted an empty one for carrying back
  whatever they might find.
  "tilde Good luck, Admiral. We'll be
monitoring
  you. The homing beam is locked onto your suits
  in case of bad visibility."
  Kirk waddled down the short ladder from the
  dressing shelf and stepped off into the water in
  the lower part of the air-lock. Climbing carefully,
  Llissa plunged in next to him. He pressed

  release, and the external hatch slid open,
allowing
  them to Boat out into the sea, where he hooked
  them together with a variable-length safety tether.
  They swam purposefully toward the
  mountainside. Once they'd left the bubble of
  artificial brightness around the Cousteau, Kirk
  slowed and craned his neck to behold the

  darkness stretching in all directions like a
  permanently starless night. His eyes adjusted, and
  he could make out the peak above then, looming
  up beyond his vision. Knowing that the mountain's
  base was at least a kilometer beneath their
  position and that its pinnacle was kilometers over
  their heads with kilometers more to the surface
  made Kirk feel astoundingly insignificant.
  "What is it, lim?"
  "Just waxing philosophical. Let's go." They
  moved ahead with powerful jets from the
  air-thrusters on their backs. Kirk did a
forward
  flip, just for the hell of it.
  "Pretty fancy. And here I was just worrying you
  were having second thoughts."
  He grinned. "I was, for a second. I'd
forgotten
  the feeling of freedom you get when you just
  float."
  "Is this what it's like being in space?"
  "Almost. In fact, before tilde we had orbital
stations
  for training old-time astronauts, they used to
  simulate weightlessness in water tanks. I've
spent
  most of my adult life in spaceships, but
I'm almost
  always in the ship, not actually out in space,
  floating free. That's why I'm enjoying this."
  Their helmets lit up the face of the
  mountainside with a ghostly glow, and they found
  themselves facing the cave entrance. Shutting
  down their air-jets, Kirk swam in first, with
Llissa
  following closely enough to touch his flipper tips.
  Ghostly shadows flickered and danced as the
  beams from the divers" arm lights moved with
  their strokes. Llissa tugged on the tether,
guiding
  him away from the bobbing heads of the canth
  eels and toward the side where Maybri's probe
  uncovered the first three bones. She took one of
  the long sand probes and gently poked the
  sediment on the floor, taking care not to stir up
  too much and cut their visibility. Almost
  immediately, she turned up several more bones.
  "Jim, I hate to say this, but my father might be
  right about this place."
  She continued picking up large bones while
Kirk
  took a sieve and strained for smaller fossils.
Their
  combined effort had the collection bag filling up
  rapidly, and Llissa drifted off to the end of the
  safety cord. "Jim, look!"
  Using the tether as a guide, he found her under a
  sharp

  overhang, wedged into a space barely big enough
  for her to search without getting stuck. "What've
  you got?"
  When she backed out of the crawlspace, she
  whirled quickly, hands thrusting toward him with
  a large round object clutched in her fingers.
  Before his brain could even pin a label to the
  thing, Kirk's reflexes made him stan.
Backlit by
  her sleeve lights, an intact skull grinned
spectrally
  at him.
  Llissa gave him a matching smile from within
  her helmet. "Sure do scare easily,
Admiral Kirk."
  He repressed a shudder. "This place is
getting
  spookier by the second. And I can't help but
feel
  we're grave-robbing."
  "It's for a good cause." She placed the skull
  securely in the carrier. "Let's see what's
back
  here was With a graceful somersault, she swam
  toward recesses of the cavern the robot probe
  hadn't reached. Kirk hurried to keep her in
sight
  as the passage grew increasingly twisty and
  tapered to the point where they could scarcely fit
  single file.
  His shoulders were broader than hers, and he
  kept scraping the rocks. Though he
knew the gill
  suit was sturdily armored, it was a sound that
  made him nervous nonetheless. Llissa darted
  around another bend.
  "Oh, my seas, look at this," she whispered,
her
  voice breathless with excitement.
  Arms straight out because of the dose confines,
  Kirk relied on a few extra-strong kicks
to reach
  Llissa quickly, and he understood her thrill. The
  tiny corridor opened suddenly into a
magnificent
  domed grotto. At the center was a structure that
  seemed to be some sort of altar, made of stones
  fit together like bricks, stones that had to be both
  hand-hewn and intentionally arranged. Hands
  fluttering, Kirk turned several times to take in
the
  whole chamber. Around the outside wall were a
  dozen nooks. He went to one while Llissa
swam
  to another. Before him, on shelves cut right into
  the rock, were casks that seemed to be made out
  of bones as big around as his biceps.
Each was
  about as high as his forearm, and rows of symbols
  were etched around the outside of every cask.
  They were all sealed.
  "Llissa, I found . . . containers of some
sort."
  "And I found more bones, but these are whole
  skeletons, and they well, you've gotta see for
  yourself."

  Putting the cask back on its ledge, Kirk
swung
  around and found Llissa in an adjacent nook.
  There he saw five complete skeletons laid
out on
  slabs in ritual fashion, with hammered metal
  jewelry clinging around their neck vertebrae.
  Momentarily stunned into silence, it took him an
  extra effort to find his voice. "Chekov, send
the
  probe in here."
  "Is something wrong, Admiral?" Maybri's
voice
  broke in.
  "On the contrary, lieutenant. I think
we have
  your find of a lifetime here."
  As commanding officer, Kirk had long ago made
  intellectual peace with the concept of delegation
  of responsibilities. On a vessel the
size of a
  starship, he obviously couldn't do everything
  himself. He couldn't even oversee everything
  personally. He had the best crew a commander
  could want talented, bright, eager and senior
  officers who'd earned his trust over ten years of
  service together. But there were times he still
  wanted to be everywhere at once, doing most
  things himself or at least looking over the
  shoulders of the people to whom he'd been forced
  to leave certain tasks.
  This was one of those times. But as he reclined
  on his bunk, he was proud of the restraint he'd
  shown on the hangar deck. From the instant the
  seashuttle touched down, he'd wanted to stay with
  those bones, casks and assorted samples every
  step of the way. Instead, he let McCoy and
Spock
  cart the artifacts off to the medical and science
  labs, and he went to his cabin to clean
up and rest
  up.
  Now, two hours later, he was clean but he
  wasn't resting. He was thinking, wondering what
  repercussions were about to spring from the load
  of bones and rocks and tricorder data being
  scrutinised without him.
  "I know you're gonna want to sneak in,"
McCoy
  had warned, "and ask all sorts of incisive
  questions, thinking you see something we're
  overlooking, but I know everything, Jim. And
  anything I don't know, Spock knows. So stay
out,
  don't bug us, and we'll call you when we're
damn
  good and ready."
  The bedside intercom whistled, and he stabbed
  the button. "Kirk here." He rolled to a
sitting
  position and saw McCoy's poker face on the
  screen. "Ah, Bones. Am I permitted
to leave my
  quarters yet?" he asked dryly.
  202
  McCoy scratched his neck. "Speaking of
bones,
  Jim, these had quite a story to tell I don't
mind
  tellin' you we're actually getting somewhere. his
  "On my way."
  He met Llissa and her father at the door of
  McCoy's office, and they entered together, finding
  the doctor at his desk, feet up, chair
tilted
  comfortably back. Spock leaned on the edge of a
  cabinet, arms folded, his face as composed as
  ever except for a definite cerebral fervor
  twinkling in those usually inscrutable eyes. Those
  who didn't know Spock well wouldn't have even
  noticed. Kirk noticed. He spread his hands
in
  anxious invitation. "Well?"
  McCoy tipped forward and ambled toward the
  lab next door. "Right this way, folks."
  He led the group to a shallow trough atop one
  of the examining tables, where a complete
  skeleton was laid out.
  "It certainly looks humanoid," Kirk said.
  "Mm-hmmm." McCoy puckered his
mouth non-
  committally. "Any other observations, Dr.
  Kirk ?"
  "Sorry," Kirk surrendered. "Your patient,
doctor."
  "Thanks. You're right, it is definitely
humanoid.
  In fact, a lot like this humanoid," McCoy
said with
  a wave at Llissa, "but with some very interesting
  variations on standard Akkallan structure and
  musculature."
  "Such as?"
  "Such as lengthening of the femur late in life."
  "Like a growth spurt in an adult?" Kirk
  interrupted.
  "Right."
  "Is that normal"...tilde
  McCoy deferred to Llissa, who shook her
head.
  "Not for Akkallans it isn't."
  "That's what I figured," McCoy said. He
  fingered the brown thighbone on the lab table.
  "But for this particular Akkallan if that's what
  he was it happened." He circled the
skeleton.
  "Other niceties include evidence of webbing
  between fingers and toes, something Llissa seems
  to be missing, and changes in the size and shape
  of muscles."
  "What else?"
  "Well, judging from analysis of the bones
  themselves, this individual went through some sort
  of major physiological upheaval late in
life."

  Zzev's brows shot up. "The senescence!"
  "Maybe, but we can't prove it, not from bones
  alone."
  Kirk began to pace. "So what, if anything, can
  we prove? Is this the ske'ddeton of an
Akkallan?"
  "There're a lot of similarities between this fells
  a modern-day Akkallan, and there're also a lot
of
  differences. These bones might very well've
  belonged to a creature that lived in the ocean.
  And wherever he lived, he's seven thousand years
  old."
  Kirk's eyes opened wide. "And do
these bones
  match the ten-yearmld one.. we found in
  McPhillips's lab1"
  "I knew that'd be your next question, Jim. The
  answer is yes. Is this one of those
mythological
  Wwafida? Beats the hell outta me. But if
it is,
  then those new bones are from a Wwaf da that
  died a decade ago."
  "I knew it!" said Zzev. "I knew they still
existed."
  McCoy waggled a finger. "Now, we don't know
  that for sure. And we won't unless we find one
  that's alive."
  "What do you think the chances are they're still
  out there, Spock?"
  "Impossible to be specific, Admiral. There
are
  any number of scenarios to support either
  possibility. Bared solely on the meager
  information now in our possession, we have no
  way of extrapolating the condition of the
  population of these creatures over the past seven
  thousand years. were their numbers increasing,
  decreasing, or remaining steady? Without
  additional facts, no logical conclusion is
reach-
  able."
  Zzev turned surly. "Oh, c'mon,
Spock. What's
  the likelihood that McPhillips just happened
to
  find the bones of the last Wwafida to die?"
  "Unknown. But in every case of extinction, one
  individual of a species was indeed the last of its
  kind, and the more recently that final specimen
  has expired, the greater the odds it may be found,
  before natural forces have had a chance to
  conceal or destroy it."
  "And even if those new bones aren't from the
  last one," McCoy added, "if the population was
  down to almost nothing by then, it could be all
  the way to zero by now."
  Kirk didn't really want to waste any more time
  arguing about a moot point. "Spock, what about
  the other artifacts we brought back?"

  "A fascinating collection opened one of the
  casks. It contained a scroll, the
substance of which
  was resistant to the deleterious effects of
  extended submersion in salt water." He rolled
a
  small, dear tank over to the group. The scroll
lay
  on the bottom, flattening out in the center but
  still partially curled toward the ends. "We have
  duplicated the chemical composition of
Akkallan
  seawater to avoid any detrimental effects of a
  sudden change in environment. As you can see, it
  is in remarkably good condition, considering its
  age."
  "How old is it?" Kirk asked.
  "The same as the fossils on the order of seven
  thousand years. We are still analysing composition
  of the ink. The beings who manufactured it
  developed an ingenious compound that could
  withstand both the ravages of time and seawater."
  Zzev and Llissa both hunched over the tank,
  studying the neatly scribed symbols, a
precise
  fusion of bloclcy angles and compact loops.
"It
  looks like Maic," Llissa mumbled absently.
  "What's Maic?" Kirk asked.
  "The first real language on Akkalla. I
can't read
  it myself One of the Guides on my Council is
the
  expert." She straightened; her expression
turned
  melancholy. "Was the expert are they still
alive?"
  Kirk tried to be reassuring. "We've got
no
  reason to think they're not. Could your expert
  translate this?"
  "Probably. Let's hope she'll have a chance
to try."
  "What about the geological samples,
Spock?"
  "The mountains themselves are one billion years
  old, formed by normal geological processes.
The
  rock samples from inside the cave indicate that
  the cave has been under the ocean for ten
  thousand years."
  "Then this skeleton has to be from a
  sea-dwelling creature," said Kirk.
"Land-dwellers
  obviously couldn't live in caves submerged for
  three thousand years. Isn't that logical?"
  "It would appear to be, Admiral barring totally
  unpredictable circumstances such as land-dwellers
  interring their dead in sea caves."
  "Then what we've got," Kirk said, "is a
ton of
  circumstantial evidence that Wwafida were real
  creatures in the

  past, evidently were intelligent and had a true
  culture, and they really did live in the ocean.
We
  have a lot less evidence that the senescence
  actually took place, changing landdwellers
into sea
  creatures, right, Bones?"
  "I'd say that's a fair statement, Jim.
Medically
  speaking, I can't verify this senescence phase just
  by examining remains of one individual."
  Kirk started pacing again. "Okay, where does
  this leave us? We could go to your government
  with what we've got his
  Llissa shook her head. "Not enough, Jim."
  "I agree, Kirk," said Zzev.
  "We could go right to the Federation his
  "Without conclusive proof," Spock said, "I do
not
  think the Federation would be able to act
  decisively. Politicians and diplomats
are not noted
  for their bold actions."
  Zzev chortled at the Vulcan's sarcasm.
"I knew
  I liked you, Spock."
  "All right," Kirk said. "Then we've got
to find
  ourselves a living Wwafida."
  McCoy crossed his arms. "Fine," he
challenged,
  "but there's an awful lot of ocean down there.
  Now, if nobody's seen a live Wwafida in
longer
  than anybody can remember, what makes you
  think we'll suddenly turn one up? I'd rather
look
  for a needle in a haystack. At least the
haystack's
  finite and the needle doesn't swim."
  "Good point." Kirk's mouth tightened into a
  grim line. "If anybody's got any ideas,
now's the
  time to speak up."
  "I've got one," Zzev said in a subdued
tone.
  "Can you have your computer cough up a map of
  Akkalla?"
  "Sure." Kirk stepped over to the terminal on
  McCoy's lab desk. "Computer his
  "Working his
  "Display surface map of Akkalla."
  With a flurry of blinking memory lights, the map
  ape peered on the small screen. Zzev ran his
  fingertip on a line from the mainland's western
  seaboard to the underwater mountains they'd just
  visited, then northwest to some islands nearly on
  the other side of the world from the continent and
  at a latitude just below Akkalla's arctic
zone.
  "There," Zzev stated.

  Llissa narrowed her eyes dubiously.
"There what?"
  "After we scrapped the cooperative project,
I
  went off on my own again."
  Ills that when you stopped publishing and
  started cutting your ties with everyone you ever
  knew?"
  "I didn't have any choice."
  Llissa shook her head. "A lot of your former
  close friends were sure you were dead. So was I."
  "Did you care?"
  She chewed on the question for an extra
  moment. "At that point," she bristled, "no, I
  didn't."
  "At that point, Kirk, I was obsessed with these
  islands," Zzev said, jabbing at the viewscreen.
"I
  had a theory, and I started to check it out. I
tried
  to grab a few allies, but my colleagues" he
spat
  the word bitterly "didn't want anything to do
  with this theory. According to every record I
  could find, nobody'd ever gone to these islands.
  They were so isolated, they didn't even
have
  names. So I asked the government for permission
  to explore them."
  "You didn't get it," Kirk concluded.
  "I didn't get it. They told me these islands
had
  been visited by the government a hundred years
  or so ago. In the days before we started getting
  Chorymi rhipileum, they were doing all sorts
of
  experiments, left-brace tying to come up with ways
of
  producing clean energy that also happened to be
  readily available and cheap."
  "Every industrialised planet goes through that,"
  Kirk s y m pat h i ze do.
  "So they told me these islands were used for
  testing, and they wound up lethally contaminated
  by chemicals and radiation. That's why they were
  off limits to everyone."
  "I never heard about this," Llissa said.
  Zzev shook his head. "Nobody did. I
figured I
  had enough enemies at Collegium."
  "Whose fault is that?" Llissa
snapped.
  Her father ignored the dig. "I wanted inarguable
  facts on my side before I made anything
public.
  So I kept pressing, trying every back-door
route I
  could think offor getting more information about
  those islands."
  "What did you think you would fmd there?" Spock
  asked.
  "I didn't really have any idea. But they were
old
  and

  isolated. And they seemed like a good place to
  look for evidence of something that'd disappeared
  from the rest of the world, if it ever existed at all."
  "Reasonable course of action," Spock
approved.
  Zzev snorted a short laugh. "I even tried
  sneaking up there for a look. I got caught, and
  that was about when the Cape Alliance got
  started. I'd done enough talking and writing about
  the possible existence of the Wwafida even if
  Llissa didn't let me have my
fossils and people
  started to listen. Some of "em were scientists,
  some were just people who didn't believe
  everything the government said."
  "We didn't believe everything they said,"
Llissa
  protested. "But we thought there were better ways
  of changing things."
  "Well, now you know there weren't," Zzev said,
  his voice suddenly weary, looking deeply
into his
  daughter's eyes.
  She returned the searching gaze. "I don't know
  if I can agree with that."
  "Anyway, Kirk, once the Alliance started,
I
  wasn't exactly in position to keep up the
research
  and exploration. We just wanted to survive and
  keep up the fight. All we had some days was the
  hope that, sooner or later, more Akkallans would
  join us."
  "Well," said Kirk, "you've got your allies
now.
  What makes you so sure there's something
being
  kept secret at these islands?"
  "If you're looking for an orderly procession of
  facts, I can't give it to you. What I've
got is a
  feeling, based not only on the government telling
  me I couldn't visit the islands, but the way they
  told me. I'm sure they're hiding something, as
  sure as I've ever been about anything."
  Llissa cleared her throat nervously. "Jim,
my
  father and I obviously don't see eye to eye about
  most things. But even his worst criticstll admit
  he's got a knack for making intuitive
decisions
  based on evidence about as tangible as mist."
  The grizzled scientist stared at his daughter,
  surprised at her testimonial.
  "If he thinks those islands might hold the
key,"
  she continued, "I wouldn't bet against it."
  "All right," Kirk said. "But before we go take
a
  look, I'd like to see Aklcalla's government
records
  on the islands,

  whatever they've got on those alleged energy tests
  and the contamination they left behind."
  McCoy scowled. "Do you expect 'em to give
us
  free access to top-secret files out of the goodness
  of their hearts? Does anybody even know where
  to find this stuff?"
  "I do," Llissa volunteered. "There's a
new
  archive complex they just built a couple of years
  ago, all the latest computer equipment. But
  security is so tight, it's impossible to break
in,
  especially under current circumstances."
  "It may be impossible to break in," Kirk
said,
  smiling, "but not to beam in."
  It was the middle of planet night when Spock
  and Llissa materialised in a deserted office
at the
  Akkallan government archives. According to
  Llissa there was some nocturnal activity there,

  it wouldn't attract undue attention to have a
  computer terminal in use at that hour. And all
  archive terminals had full access to the entire
file
  memory, so they'd be able to do their snooping
  without ever leaving the office into which they'd
  transported.
  "Which file next?" Llissa glanced up at
Spock as
  he stood over her shoulder.
  "I am most curious about the actual energy
tests."
  "Okay, energy tests it is." Llissa entered
the
  proper code number, and the screen blanked out,
  flashing an advisory:
  OBSOLETE FILE SUPERSEDED
BY EN"...IES
  3-Zbledjc AND 5-D-624. REPEAT
REQUEST IF
  ORIGINAL FILE STILL WANTED FOR
  REVIEW.
  Spock's eyebrow arched. "Obsolete?"
  "I guess the data in the original entry's
been
  split up and re-sorted under other headings. The
  original report dates back a century.
Don't
  bureaucrats protect their jobs by shuffling the
  same information over and over?"
  "That has often been my observation as well."
  "Let's try again." She retyped her request,
and
  the advisory was quickly replaced with the old
  file.
  Spock recorded it, and when the map appeared,
  his eyes narrowed. "There is a discrepancy."
  "Where?"
  Before he could answer, the Vulcan suddenly
  stiffened, head cocked like an alert spaniel.
"We
  must leave at once."
  "Why?"
  "Someone is coming."

  "I don't hear anything."
  "I do." Spock already had his communicator out
  and tricorder in hand. "Spock to Enterprise
two
  to beam up energise immediately."
  Llissa shut down the computer terminal, and
  out of the corner of her eye she spotted a shaft of
  light intruding into the dim office as an unseen
  hand opened the door from outside
  "There." Spock stopped the tricorder
playback at
  the map of the seven islands contained in the file
  of quarantined territory. "Note that all seven
are
  included in the sequestered zone."
  The image hung on one screen above the
  science console while Spock called up the
second
  Akkallan file on an adjacent screen.
When the
  second map came up, he froze that one,
too.
  Elbows braced on the back of the science
  officer's chair, Kirk glanced from one display
to
  the other. Both showed a string of seven bits of
  land in a vast ocean, with the largest island at the
  north tip, slightly apart from the others in its
  chain, shaped like a bloated kidney. Five more,
  little bigger than cays, stretched in a
fairly straight
  line down to the seventh at the southern tip,
  which was vaguely fish-shaped. "They look the
  same.
  "The depictions are in fact identical. The
  discrepancy comes in the appended data." On
  each viewscreen, he punched up the pertinent
  details. "The modern quarantine file lists
all seven
  islands as having been used in the energy tests
  and thus contaminated. But the original
  energy-test file indicates that tests took
place only
  on the southernmost island, with dangerous
  pollutants spreading only to the five small
islands
  closest to it not to the large island farthest to
  the north."
  Zzev swore under his breath. "I'll bet when
they
  did those tests a hundred years ago, they found
  something on that northern island that they didn't
  want anybody else to ever know about."
  Kirk maintained some doubt. "Is it possible that
  seventh island was found to be contaminated
later
  on and properly added to the quarantine list?"
  Spock swiveled his chair to face the group
  gathered

  around the science station. "The prevailing winds
  and currents in Akkalla's arctic and
subarctic
  regions are northerly."
  "Which would tend to sweep any pollutants to
  the south rather than the north. But there's a
  hole in your logic, Spock. You said the tests
took
  place on the southernmost piece of land in the
  chain, but those five little islands just to the north
  of it got polluted anyway. Explanation?"
  "There is no flaw in my logic," Spock
said. "You
  interrupted before I completed my statement."
  "Oh." Kirk looked chagrined. "I should've
known."
  "As I was about to say, there is a local current
  that circulates among those six islands in
closest
  proximity. The island at the north tip
is separated
  from the others by some eighty kilometers,
  enough to render it unaffected by that internal
  current. Before we began reviewing the data from
  the Akkallan archives, I had our sensors
scan the
  islands in question. The six originally condemned
  as dangerous still show a residual level of
  radiation and chemical contamination. The
  northern island came up negative."
  "What about life-form readings?" Kirk asked.
  "The island where the testing actually took place
  is barren of animal life, though some plant
life
  has returned. The five connecting islands have a
  normal complement of both plant and animal
  forms."
  Zzev leaned close over the bridge railing.
"And
  the northern island?"
  "Life flourishes there, including, I believe,
  humanoid life."
  "Are you convinced yet, Kirk?" Zzev growled.
  "I'm convinced we should take a look at that
  island, but I'm not convinced what we'll
find
  there."
  "You will be."
  The landing party convened in the transporter
  room Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Maybri,
Zzev, and
  Llissa. Everyone was issued a white hooded
parka
  from ship's stores, and the starship officers all
  carried phaser pistols and tricorders.
  "So we're off on our mermaid hunt,"
McCoy
  said as they received equipment and coats from
  the supply officer.
  Spock raised a disdainful eyebrow.
"Mermaids,
  doctor?"
  "Mythical creatures that were half-woman and
  half-fish."

  "I am familiar with the term. I am also
  constrained to point out that inappropriate
  romanticism is hardly a constructive addition
to
  our search for useful data."
  "How the hell would a Vulcan know when
  romanticism is appropriate?" McCoy
shot back.
  "One does not have to be something in order to
  be knowledgeable about it."
  "Gentlemen," Kirk said as he mounted the steps
  to the transporter platform, "I hate
to interrupt,
  but we do have business on Akkalla."
  Llissa stepped up to the pod next to him. "Are
  they always like this?"
  "Frequently," Kirk answered. He nodded
to the
  transporter chief. "Energize."
  They materialised on a frigid fringe of beach
at
  the bottom of a fjord. Kirk took a step, and
his
  boots crunched into a mosaic of ice, gravel,
and
  sand. Shading his eyes against midday glare, he
  surveyed their surroundings. The water in the
  fjord was no more than thirty meters across and
  partially frozen, with chunks of ice bobbing
  unevenly as the tide rippled beneath them.
  At first glance, this great cleft in the island
  seemed to have been cut by a single stroke of
  some colossal ax, so clean were the edges of its
  top rim and sheer marbled walls. But a closer
  look revealed snow-filled hollows in the shadows
  of craggy rocks and icicles clinging to
  outcroppings where trickles of water had melted
  under the sun's occasional appearances.
  "You've got the map, Spock," Kirk said.
"Any
  easy way of getting up there?"
  McCoy stared at him. "You mean we've got
to
  scale these cliffs?"
  "Mm-hmm."
  "Wouldn't it have made more sense to beam
  down up there instead of down here?"
  Spock looked up from his tricorder's tiny
screen.
  "It was necessary to transport to a point that
  would be secluded."
  "Mission accomplished," McCoy grumbled.
  "What do we do now flap our wings and fly up?"
  "You may make the attempt, Dr. McCoy,"
Spock
  said, "while the rest of us climb that trail."
He
  pointed to a rough-hewn path, hidden by shade
  deeper inside the fjord.

  Kirk led the way, wondering if the trail was
  natural chiseledfrom the rocky face of the
cliffby
  local inhabitants, or some of both. It
wasn't an
  easy climb. The landing party moved slowly,
  picking over rugged hand- and toe-holds, gloves
  and boots slipping on hidden patches of ice and
  treacherously unsteady stones.
  McCoy was the last to clamber over the top,
  with a helping wrist grip from Kirk. As the
  surgeon caught his breath, he realised what the
  others were already gaping at, and he gave a low
  whistle. "This must be what they meant by a cold
  day in helk"
  The landscape spread before them fit McCoy's
  description a broad plain of ice and snow
  mingled with bubbling pools of viscous muck.
  Sulfurous vapors vented from craters and
cracks
  in ground that was alternately moss-fuzzed bog,
  hardscrabble lava, and knee-deep snow.
Looming
  over this jumbled terrain was a steep-shouldered
  volcano with its summit swaddled in a cloak of
  fog.
  "Fascinating geology," Spock murmured as
he
  swept his recorder across the land.
  "Just tell me that volcano's resting comfortably,"
  McCoy said.
  "Spock," Kirk said, "how far to that
village?"
  "I would hesitate to use the word village,
  Admiral. All our scanners indicated was a
  concentration of life forms that may be humanoid.
  And it is point seven-nine kilometers east."
  Kirk determined their direction, and they began
  the hike, headed for round-topped hills that
  resembled the interlaced knuckles of folded
  hands.
  Along the route, it became apparent that this
  island was home to a healthy abundance of life
  forms. Coarse green bushes and moss grew on
  patches of ground warmed by subterranean
heat
  sources, and small white fur balls scurried
to and
  from the bushes when the landing party passed
  by, unsure of whether to stay and eat the greenery
  or dive back into burrows under the snow. On the
  hillsides, slender trees grew straight and
tall, with
  stubby branches, a generous coat of short,
stiff
  fronds, and bulbous seed pouches hanging down.
  Llissa called them rikkekka trees, common
even
  in the colder sections of the northern mainland,
  primitive but stalwart and perfectly adapted
to
  their harsh

  environment. The rikkekka fronds were a waxy
  black-green, the better to absorb and retain a
  maximum amount of warmth from Akkalla's sun.
  At the crest of the next hill, Kirk
signaleda halt
  to reconnoiter the valley spreading below, with
  quite a bit of land free of snow and a
flock of
  large, woolly animals engaged in lazy
grazing.
  "What are those things?" asked McCoy. "They
  look like a cross between hippos and sheep."
  "What they are," Zzev said, his voice fired with
  anticipation, "are musk vinx."
  "But musk vinx are extinct," Llissa said
  pedantically.
  "On the continent they are, but those look just
  like old cave paintings."
  The animals were stocky and barrel-shaped with
  stout kegs for legs. They were covered with thick
  white fleece, except for their bare hindquarters
  (which Zzev explained helped them lose excess
  body heat). The vine had domed heads with tiny
  buds for ears; large, soulful eyes; and long
snouts
  that ended in a single short horn. A few
minutes
  of observation made it obvious the nose horn was
  used as a digging extension, perfect for gouging
  through snow and ice and frozen tundra to get at
  plants, roots, and small creatures believing
  themselves safe in tunnels and holes.
Clawed
  hooves made them sure-footed in slippery
terrain.
  Like the rikkekkas, musk vine seemed well
suited
  for their harsh island home.
  "The ones with the antlem," McCoy said, looking
  at herd members with short, three-pronged
  growths on their heads, "those are the males?"
  Llissa chuckled. "Matter of fact, those are
the
  females. It's not uncommon with Akkallan
animal
  species for the females to be bigger and more
  aggressive. They pick the males they want, and
  they dominate the group. The males function
  pretty much as stud stock and babysittem."
  Maybri pointed out at some movement on the
  snowy fringe of the valley. "What're those?"
  Zzev aimed his Enterprise mag viewer and saw
a
  pack of four smaller animals with muscular
  haunches, thin waists and massive shoulders and
  chests. They had coats of graywhite fur, with
puffy
  cuffs around their necks. Their heads were
  dominated by ears that unfurled like fans,
  saber-tooth

  fangs in both upper and lower jaws, and broad
  flaring noses developed for detecting the faintest
  of scents. They skulked about the edges of the
  vinx herd, bodies flattened, noses twitching
as
  they sought to single out a target that might be
  too young, too old, or too sick to flee or
fight.
  "Corotans," Zzev finally said in a hushed
tone.
  "They're also extinct on the mainland They're
  predators, probably the only thing on this island
  that's dangerous to the vinx."
  He watched as a pair of females swung
  ponderously to face the corotan pack, snorting
  and lowering their antlered heads in a warning
  stance. Two of the corotans darted forward, as if
  to bracket the larger beasts, but when the vinx
  females turned rump to rump to protect in
all
  directions, the corotans halted
abruptly and slunk
  back to the waiting pair. Then all four of them
  wheeled and trotted away. The hunt would have
  to wait for another time, and for female musk
  vinx that were less vigilant.
  "This is fabulous, Kirk," Zzev cackled.
"There's
  no telling what we'll find here."
  "I think," Kirk said, peering through his viewer
  toward the east, "we've found our village, and
I
  think the term detmitely fits. Take a
look."
  What they saw through their mag viewers was a
  sprawling cluster of fifty or so tents made of
  animal hides, with humanoid residents moving
  around them. Zzev could barely contain his
  excitement.
  "We've discovered a completely unknown
  population of people. This is incredible!" he
  bubbled as they observed from behind a stand of
  rikkekka trees on a knoll.
  "Before we go down there," Kirk said, "let's
get
  a few things straight. We don't know
anything
  about these inhabitants or how they'l; react to
  strangers. We don't even know if they've ever
  seen outsiders. We don't know how primitive
they
  are, and we don't know how hostile they might
be.
  Obviously, they outnumber us. I don't want
  anybody hurt us or thern. We'll go in, but
we
  stay together. Set phasers on stun. Keep 'em
in
  your pockets, but keep your hands on them, just
  in case. If they turn out to be hostile, we
  withdraw. Understood?" He looked straight at
  Zzev, who met his glare briefly before nodding.
  "Okay, let's go."
  The landing party made its way down the last
  hillside and

  headed directly for the heart of the village, taking
  an open approach to preempt any fears that
might
  be roused by the appearance of sneaking into the
  settlement. As they passed one of the
structures at
  the edge of the village, Spock stopped to look
at
  it. From a distance, all the dwellings had looked
  like standard, inverted-vee tents made of animal
  hides. Closer examination revealed this one and
  others to be tent-shaped but constructed of logs
  laid over a frame, with hides and blankets
pegged
  to the slanted roof surfaces as insulation. They
  varied in size, but all were high enough to permit
  the tall natives to stand straight inside.
  "Fascinating," Spock said. "This shows a high
  degree of ingenuity and skill."
  They heard sounds of wood being chopped and
  scraped coming from the other side of the lodge,
  and they peeked carefully around the corner. A
  trio of natives smiled back at them, quite
  unconcerned at the sight of strangers. The
natives
  were blond, fair-skinned males, young and tall,
  dressed in coats and leggings made of hides,
fur,
  and heavy cloth, probably woven from viox
fleece.
  Their outfits were decorated with brightly colored
  designs, both stitched on and dyed. They worked
  with axes, knives, and other tools made of stone
  and bone. Two of them were busily hollowing out
  a log split lengthwise in half. The third
native,
  considerably smaller and younger than the others,
  seemed to be an apprentice, alternately
watching
  and helping by scooping up wood chips and
  adding them to a large pile and by fetching
  different tools as needed. Other hollowed
  half-logs, already finished, were piled in neat
  stacks to one side of the outdoor work area, with
  raw logs in another pile and odd-sized chunks
of
  wood in a rail-and-rope bin behind the three
  young carpenters.
  One of them bent low and whispered in the
  apprentice's ear, and he skipped over to the
group
  of strangers, his face beaming and friendly. He
  chattered off a fast sentence and waited for a
  reply. Zzev and Llissa conferred quickly, then
  turned to Kirk.
  "The language is a blend of old Akkallan
and
  more modern," Llissa said, "dating from about a
  hundred years ago."
  "Can you understand it?"
  "Some of it."

  Kirk's jaw tightened. "That's not enough.
Spock,
  tie in the universal translator."
  The science officer pulled a small
cylindrical
  device out of his shoulder bag and twisted a
  control ring to activate it. A set of lights
blinked
  in sequence. "Llissa, engage the boy in
  conversation in his language as best you can."
  She nodded gamely and turned back to the
  young native, speaking in a halting way that made
  his face crinkle in amusement. When he
  answered, he spoke more slowly and distinctly, as
  if conversing with a dim-witted child. Llissa knew
  it and couldn't help feeling embarrassed. As they
  chatted, Spock watched the translator's
indicator
  lights, then touched a switch and held it up
  between Llissa and the boy. As they continued
  talking, the device's circuits
instantaneously
  translated his words into Standard and hers into
  native island Akkallan.
  When the boy realized what was happening, he
  stared wide-eyed at the silvery cylinder in
Spock's
  hand. "Is amazing!" he said. "Can understand!"
  The Vulcan shrugged. "The syntax is less
than
  perfect, but we should have no difficulty with
  essential communication."
  As Spock's words were also translated into old
  Akkallan, the boy giggled in delight.
  "We've come from very far away," Kirk said to
  the boy. "We would like to visit with someone in
  charge of your village. Can you take us?"
  The boy nodded eagerly, then looked chagrined
  as he turned back to his elders. "Is all
right to
  show them?"
  The chief carpenter nodded. "Go, Seif. But
long
  do not take for work you are needed. his
  Kirk whispered to Spock, "Will the syntax
  improved"
  "The more accumulated data, the more accurate
  the translation."
  They followed the woodworking apprentice
  through the bustling heart of the settlement,
  taking them past residents engaged in a variety
of
  jobs and commerce:
  a butcher carving a musk vinx carcass while
  helpers cooked some chunks, cured others, and
  packed some raw slabs in wooden chests filled
  with ice blocks
  a blade-maker using specialised tools to chip
  ax and knife blades out of stones

  weavers spinning wisps of vinx fleece into long
  strands of yarn, making cloth, and stitching
  garments together
  and females cooking and tending to family
  dwellings, some of them even repairing roofs.
  The village was laid out in two concentric
  circles, with newer structures evidently added
  outside the inner ring. The original
circle was
  tightly packed, but the secondary one still had
  gaps in many places. As the boy took them
  toward a larger dwelling at the top of the inside
  ring, Kirk pointed out the chimneys rising out of
  every tent and lodge.
  "They're made out of those hollow half-logs we
  saw at the woodworker's. It looks like they bind
  the hollow halves together to form tubes."
  Spock pointed to other half-logs used as
pipes
  and aqueducts. "Creative use of naturally
  occurring materials, Admiral indicates a
high
  level of preindustrial development."
  When they reached the dominant lodge, Seif
  picked up a stick hanging on a leather thong from
  the door frame. "This where the Avi lives, was
he said
  via the translator. "That is our chief:" He
rapped
  the stick twice across one of the door posts, and
  the heavy woven doordap opened. A woman of
  imposing bearing and height stepped out and
  straightened, standing a head taller than the
men
  from the Enterprise.
  "Sure do grow 'em big up here," McCoy
  murmured to the captain.
  Kirk was a little surprised to find that the Avi
  didn't look much older than the young men
  running the woodworking hut. She looked down
  at Seif and rattled off a complexsounding
  question. In midsenhace, she became aware of the
  shiny cylinder in the hands of the stranger with
  the pointed ears.
  She extended a hesitant finger toward the
  translator, and Spock looked quickly
to Kirk, who
  nodded his approval.
  "It's okay, Spock. Let her touch it."
  The translator repeated Kirk's words in old
  Akkallan, and the Avi smiled in wonderment.
"Is
  there a small magician inside the silver
log?"
  Kirk returned the smile. "No, it's just one
of our
  tools. It lets us talk to people we'd like to meet
  and learn from, even if we don't know their
  language."
  "That is a very useful tool, was the Avi said.
"But I
  think you

  are telling me a tiny lie and there is a tiny
magician
  inside the log" Her eyes twinkled as she said
it.
  "So, you have come to learn from us?"
  "Yes7 we have. I'm Admiral Kirk."
  "I am Keema, Avi of the Galeaya, the P.
  Welcome to Suberein. his
  "Thank you, Keema. Suberein is the name of
  this island?"
  "Yes, AdmiraLike Is admiral your name or
your title?"
  "That's my title. It's similar to Avi. It
means I'm
  the leader of my people."
  "Fine. Then if we are to learn from each other,
we
  should be friends. Andiriends should use names, not
  titles. So I shall call you Kirk. Where are you
from,
  the big land on the other side of the world?"
  Kirk glanced at Zzev and Llissa. "You know
  about the, uh, the big land?"
  "Yes. Many cycles ago, before I was alive,
visitors
  came here from the big land. The storytellers have
  tales about it. Would you like to hear them?"
  "Yes, we would."
  "Then you are from the big land?"
  "Well, some of us are, and some of us are from
  much farther away."
  Keema narrowed her eyes. "How much farther
  away? Is there another big land? The visitors
who
  came before didn't have such tiny logs with
  magicians inside. his
  "Yes, there's another big land," Kirk said.
  "That's where the rest of us are from. Those
  visitors who came here, did they leave anyone
  behind to learn more about Suberein?"
  "No. They just came for a little while, then left.
It
  seems it is not as cold as this on the big land, was
she
  chuckled. "What would you like to learn from
us?"
  "Everything about your people and how you
  live. Would you mind if we walked around your
  village and just observed?"
  "If that is what you wish, Kirk. was She
grinned
  broadly. was We Galeaya are very friendly, although
  sometimes we do not know when to stop talking If
  that happens, just say 'Enough!" and walk away.
  Thisisa good wayforyoutomeetusandsee how we
live.
  Then if you have more questions, come back and I
  will answer."

  "Thank you, Keema."
  Keema bowed her head and ducked back inside
  her lodge.
  Self, the woodworking apprentice, fidgeted by
  the door. "I must go back to work now. his
  "You go right ahead," Kirk said. "We don't
want
  you to get into trouble. Thank you for helping us."
  Self grinned. "I had Finn talking to the
magician
  in the shiny log." He waved, turned,
and trotted
  across the open canter of the village.
  "It's like we've gone back in time eleven
  thousand years to the Culian Ice Age," Zzev
said.
  "This must be what life was like when glaciers
  covered half the mainland."
  "The question is, have these people been living
  like this for the past eleven thousand years?"
  McCoy wondered. "And if they have, how come
  nobody knew they were here?"
  "Evidently," Kirk said, "somebody did know
they
  were here if those tales of visitors from the "big
  land" are true and not some tall tales made up
by
  their storytellers. Those visitors sound like
agents
  of the Akkallan government at the time of the
  energy tests."
  Zzev loosened the parka fastening below his
  chin. "What're you getting at, Kirk? That the
  government stumbled on these people by accident
  a hundred years ago?"
  "Yes. And when they did, they discovered
  something they decided had to be kept secret
  from the rest of the planet. Isn't that your thesis?"
  "Sure it is. I just didn't expect to hear it
from
  you."
  McCoy made a sour face. "I don't know,
Jim.
  Maybe they just had no reason for coming back.
  I mean, this isn't exactly a vacation
wonderland."
  "But there is no logic in subsequent government
  actions, doctor," Spock noted. "Not
returning here
  and blocking anyone else from coming are two
  entirely different matters."
  "Let's split into two teams, walk around,
learn
  what we can. Maybe some more facts will help us
  unravel this mystery. Let's draw a line
Spock,
  you, Maybri, and Llissa take that half of the
  circle. Zzev, McCoy, and I can take this
side."
  "Jim," Llissa said, "I can handle the
language
  enough to

  keep us out of trouble. Why don't you take the,
  uh, the shiny log with the magician inside?"
  The Galeaya, all pink-checked and blond, were
  nothing short of completely hospitable, pleased
to
  tell the strangers whatever they wanted to know,
  to demonstrate their skills and crafts, and to
  invite them into their shops and homes. Village
  society seemed completely self-contained, and
  everyone contributed something to the welfare of
  the community. There were no freeloaders here.
  They saw a school, a large tent with a dozen
  youngsters gathered inside as a young woman
  taught them, reading from books made of animal
  skins, writing by scratching charred wood chunks
  on boards cut from rikkekka trees, and basic
  arithmetic. They saw vinx tenders, who cared for
  the all-important herd of a thousand placid
  beasts, whose responsibilities included chasing
off
  hungry corotan packs, tackling and shaving the
  vinx come springtime, draining the musk sacs
  under the animals" hind legs to obtain a
valuable
  liquid used as food seasoning and perfume
  (mcCoy took a single whiff and pronounced it
  vile), and milking the females which weren't
  raising sucklings.
  They saw hunters, who culled the corotan
packs
  to provide extra meat and skins and trapped
  smaller creatures living in the trees and
fields,
  and fishers, who rowed out to sea in longboats
  made of rikkekka frames and stretched skins
to
  catch whatever came up in their nets, and to hunt
  triteera when the huge creatures swam north
to
  feed in springtime.
  And perhaps the most unusual indigenous
  profession belonged to the diggers, who knew how
  to find natural hot-spots underground. They
  would tunnel down and tap the subsurface heat,
  then pipe it up to warm tents and lodges. They
  also built ovens for cooking by carving out a hole,
  lining it with flat stones, then capping it tightly
  with a perfectly shaped slab to contain the
heat
  inside. Spock measured the temperature at
two
  hundred degrees Celslus at the bottom of
one
  oven shaft, cooling as his probe came closer
to
  ground level. The variation in heat allowed
cocl:-
  ing of different foods at different levels in the
  shaft.
  The exploratory hour passed quickly, and the two
  teams

  met near Avi Keema's log dwelling and
compared
  notes, providing ample testimony of the
vitality
  and inventiveness of this small community. But
  Spock came to a darker conclusion.
  "Though their culture is a model of efficient
and
  creative use of social and physical
resources, the
  population may be too small to sustain
itself."
  Kirk looked at him. "Whattre you saying, that
  they're dying out?"
  Spock'seyes betrayed a tinge of regret.
"They
  may indeed be headed toward extinction,
Admiral.
  One concern is the danger of inbreeding. With a
  population of somewhat less than one thousand
  individuals, the gene pool is obviously
limited."
  "Bones, what about that? Is Spock right?"
  "He could be, Jim. But as far as I could see,
  they don't show any of the dangerous effects of
  inbreeding no high incidence of genetic diseases
  or anything like that. In fact, I don't think
I've
  ever seen a healthier bunch of people, anywhere,
  anytime. Hut I did notice some other
strange
  things. For instance, no old people. Nobody much
  older than Keema."
  "Is it possible they have a shorter life span?"
Kirk
  asked.
  "Sure, anything's possible, but they're so
healthy,
  I've got no idea what they die from. And we
  didn't see any burial grounds. Assuming
they
  haven't discovered the fountain of youth here,
  when they do die, what do they do with their
  dearly departed?"
  "Did anybody see any evidence of outside
  visitors being here?" Llissa asked.
  No one had no tools or materials more
  modern than the ice-age artifacts the natives
had
  evidently been making themselves by the same
  methods for thousands of years.
  "Well," Kirk said, "the government obviously
  didn't come here to help, then."
  "The opposite may be true," said Spock.
"If
  these primitive people harbor some important
  secret, the government may have isolated them in
  the hope they would in fact die out, taking their
  secret with them."
  "And I'd wager," Zzev said, "that secret
has
  something to do with Wwafida. I think it's time
  we asked some direct questions, Kirk."

  "I concur," said Spock.
  Reaching for the knocking stick, Kirk tapped on
  Keema's doorpost. The blond woman drew
the
  flap aside and came outside, stooping to fit
  through the door. "You have questions now, Kirk?"
  "Yes, we do, if you don't mind."
  "You have come to learn, so I'm happy to be able
  to teach. What would you like to know?"
  "Well, we didn't see any old people in your
  village."
  Keema looked perplexed. "Old? I am
old. his
  "Compared to children, maybe. But nobody is
  much older than you. What happens when
  Galeaya get old? Do they die?"
  "Everything living dies. his
  "Well," McCoy said, "what do you do with
  people, with their remains, after they die?"
  "There are no remains, as you call them, not
  unless someone dies in a fall or is attacked
by a
  corotan."
  McCoy shook his head as if to clear it of
  confusion. "But you said everything living
  dies and remains are left behind . . ." His
voice
  trailed off as an idea lit his eyes. "Unless
your
  people go someplace special to die away from the
  village. Is that what happens?"
  "In a way, that is right. When we reach sees,
we
  return to Mother Sea and become wafta.when
  Mother Sea is ready, she takes wafta back
where all
  life comes from at the beginning. his
  "Sees is senescence," Zzev blurted, "and
wafta
  is Wwafida! They go through it all here on this
  island. That has to be the secret the government
  didn't want anyone to know!"
  "Spock," Kirk said, "could the translator be
  misinterpreting other words to sound like
  senescence and Wwafida?"
  "Unlikely. They are specific nouns, and their
  contextual usage matches that of the
modern
  words. It is more likely that the words as Keema
  pronounces them are simply local corruptions
of
  original forms."
  "Jim," McCoy said, "we've gone see one
his
  Kirk held his hands near his chin, fingers
  interlaced, mouth set in a pensive line.
"Keema,
  could you show us a Wwafida?"

  The Avi shook her head. "They are all far out
in
  Mother Sea. his
  "Do they ever come ashore?" Zzev asked.
  "No. Once they change, their lives are not with
us,
  except for encounters at sea. They may bless our
f
  skiers and cast spells to lure food into our
nets. his
  "What happens when someone goes through
  sees?" asked McCoy.
  Keemathought for a moment. "The body
alters.
  The sens-one spends long hours at the shore and in
  the sea. Then, one day the sens-one is Malta and
  does not come back. It is a quiet thing we
make no
  ceremony."
  "How long does it take?"
  "Six tidal cycles."
  "Akkallan months, Admiral," Spock
said.
  "This is it, Kirk," Zzev insisted. "This is
all the
  evidence we could've prayed for."
  "Not all, Dr. Kkayn," Spock said.
"Without a
  living Wwafida, or a Galeayan in the
process of
  senescence, the evidence is purely
anecdotal."
  "And that's not enough to get your government
  to stop the crackdown on your scientists," Kirk
  said.
  "Have you forgotten you're a scientist?" Llissa
  goaded her father. "This time, there's no one else
  to fill in the holes in one of your
brilliantly
  intuitive theories, nobody else to do the work
  you're too damp impatient to do yourself."
  "Impatient?" Zzev flared. "Who did all
the work
  that pointed us in this direction, and where do
  you his
  "That wasn't work," she cut in, "it was
scratching
  an itch. If you were about to ask where I thought
  we'd be without you, well, I don't know. But
  where would you be without them?" she said,
  circling a hand toward the starship officers.
"We're
  a team, and we're here because of a once-in-a-
  lifetime confluence of people and events. We're
  the ones who can take advantage of that and do
  this thing right or we can do it wrong and lose
  not only the chance, but maybe the whole planet,
  too!"
  Kirk picked that moment to break into the
  private bout. "Whatever we've discovered here,
  we've got to be able to convince the rest of
  Akkalla and maybe the Federation, too.
Keema,
  are any of your people going through senescence
  now?"

  "No, Kirk. I am sorry. It is a thing that
just
  happens when it happens. We have no way of
  knowing when. Is this the thing you came to learn
  about, the most important thing?"
  "Yes . . . yes, it is."
  "We can help you learn more. We have the
  storytellers and the paintings in the caves. his
  "Admiral," Spock said, "the cave paintings
could
  provide a useful reference point in two
ways.
  First, a visual record, independent of
previously
  known depictions, and additional chronological
  data for comparison purposes."
  "Agreed. Keemaeac you show us the cave
  paintings?"
  "Yes. Come with me."
  The caves were a half-kilometer from the
  village, down by the ocean shore along a
desolate
  stretch of grey sand scoured eternally by the
  strong hand of nature, by force of wind and
  waves. Back in the village, Kirk found
he'd
  forgotten how cold the island climate was,
  countered as it was by the industrious warmth of
  the Galeaya going about their lives. But here on
  the beach, with only the rolling, rhythmic thunder
  of the surf and the stinging whip of the wind, he
  felt chilled to the bone.
  Keema led them over stones rounded and
  smoothed by the seething sea through millennia of
  high tides, to the head-high overhang that
  sheltered the cave's entrance. She was the only
  one who had to duck to enter, and once inside
  she lit a torch that flickered brightly and filled
the
  cave with a dancing radiance. The flame revealed
  a vaulted ceiling rising up to create an almost
  perfect natural dome. And the slanted cave
walls,
  from Poor to ceiling, were covered with primitive
  but elaborate tableaux of islanders" encounters
  with the wonders of their beloved Mother
  Sea fishers in longboats spreading
nets and
  hurling spears, majestic triteera with their
  distinctive triple-fluked tails, and, more than
any
  other thing, Wwafida swimming, leaping over
  crested waves, haloed by heavenly light, gathered
  in a group beneath a crag lined with people, and
  all essentially similar to the Wwafida that
  appeared in Akkallan books, art, and
religion
  much later in the planet's history.
  As most of the group moved through the cave,
  inspecting the paintings in the sort of hush usually
  reserved for holy shrines, Spock scanned the
walls
  with his tricorder.

  "Admiral was His voice echoed, jarring the
silence.
  "Found something?"
  Kirk came over to him, and the Vulcan checked
  his tricorder. "Readings indicate these paintings
  were done approximately ten thousand years ago.
  This adds to the likelihood that the Wwafida myth
  is no myth at all, but firmly based
in ancient
  reality."
  "Sure was real to the people who did these
  pictures. Look at the detail."
  "Yes, and the colorsare surprisingly vibrant
  considering the age of the pigments."
  The two Starfleet officers stood before one
  panoramic painting that included triteera,
  Wwafida, and an ancient longboat, taking it
all in
  like admiring gallery patrons. The artist had
used
  the textures and contours of the rock to give the
  mural a three-dimensional essence, and Kirk
  could almost feel himself a part of it.
  "You have found my favorite," Keema said
  through the translator as she and the others
  joined Kirk and Spock. "I discovered this cave
  when I was a child even though the elders warned
  me to stay away from here. tilde They said it was
too
  dangerous."
  Maybri's ear tips twitched with interest.
"What
  made you disobey?"
  Keema smiled at the memory. "I always liked
  adventures, going where no one went before me. I
  reasoned that younglings had been told forever to
  stay away from these caves and continued to stay
  away when they were grown. Which meant this place
  was untouched. I had all manner of dreams about
  what I might find his
  "How did this measure up to your dreams?"
  asked Maybri.
  "It exceeded my dreams many times over. was The
  Galeayan leader chuckled. "Strange how I
grew up
  defying authority, only to become the top
authority."
  "Do your own children abide by authority?" said
  Maybri. "Or are they like you?"
  "Oh, I have no younglings of my own. Once
  appointed to become the Avi, a Galeayan must
  devote all energy to governing the village. To have
  your own children would distract. was Keema sighed.
  "At times, now and again, I wonder which would
  have been more satisfying. his

  "Well, thank you for showing us your cave,
  Keema," Kirk said. "We're glad
you didn't obey
  your elders when you were small. But we'd better
  be getting back to our ship. You've given us a
lot
  to think about."
  She led them out onto the windswept beach,
  and they saw a fishing boat jumping the ebbing
  waves as it was rowed to shore by eight powerful
  Galeaya. Even before it was securely beached,
  two of the fishers leaped out and splashed
  through the breakers toward their leader, both
  shouting at the same time and bedevilingthe
  universal translator. By the time they reached
  Keema, one was out of breath and couldn't talk,
  and the landing party listened closely to the
  second fisher's gibbeting.
  "Avi, Avi we could not help what
  happened just hauling in the net saw it tried to
  cut it loose too late already dead!"
  Keema clamped her hands on the young fisher's
  shoulders and steadied him. "Be calm, Frae.
Tell
  me slowly. What was already dead?"
  "The wafta," Frae gasped as he whirled and
  jabbed a frantic finger toward the
longboat, where
  the other fishers were lifting something with a net
  wrapped around it.
  "Admiral," Spock murmured, "the fisherman
  seems to be terror-stricken. It could be that
  inadvertent interference with a Wwafida violates
  one of their taboos. I suggest we tread
extremely
  carefully, or we could find Keema's
hospitality
  withdrawn."
  Zzev poked Kirk's shoulder. "We've got
to get
  a look at it."
  Kirk spun on him. "Didn't you just hear what
  Mr. Spock said? We'll examine it if the
Galeaya
  let us, and this very moment isn't the time to ask."
  Following at a respectful distance, he led the
  landing party toward the surf as Keema went to
  meet the fishermen carrying the limp form in
  their net like pallbearers.
  With infinite care, they laid the body down on
  the sand and unrolled the net. Kirk edged
  forward, tugging Zzev's parka to keep
him from
  lurching ahead. Keema's gentle hand peeled
back
  the last sheet of netting as if it were a funeral
  shroud, revealing a creature that looked exactly
  like the Wwafida painted on the cavern wall.
  "Jim," McCoy said quietly, "I feel like
all those
  old-time

  crazieswho spent their lives hunting unicorns
and
  dinosaurs in the Amazon."
  "Your analogy is askew, doctor," Spock
said.
  "Those creatures never proved anything other
  than mythological. A more apt comparison would
  be with the plesiosaurs eventually found in lakes
  in the Scottish province of old Britain, if
I recall
  correctly, rather unimaginatively dubbed the
Loch
  Ness Monsters."
  "Keema," Kirk began slowly, "we could
learn a
  great deal if you would let us examine the
  Wwafida but only if it's permitted by your
laws
  and religion."
  She gestured at the corpse. "This is a very bad
  omen. This wafta was on its way to return to
  Mother Sea forever, and these f skiers have
  prevented that. If we don't make this right and
help
  the wafta go where destiny has sent it, Mother Sea
  will punish us. his
  "How?" Zzev wanted to know.
  Kirk wished he had a muzzle to slap over
Zzev's
  mouth.
  "Bad waves, no f sh to catch, taking
fishers to
  their deaths before they can become wafta his
  Kirk shouldered in front of Zzev. "We
don't
  want to interfere with your customs. But it would
  only take our doctor a few minutes
to examine
  the Wwafida."
  "He would not harm it, Kirk?"
  "No. He doesn't even have to touch it."
  "We have to send thesef skiers right back out to
  Mother Sea from here there can be no delay. his
  "There won't be any delay," Kirk assured
her.
  "He can look at the Wwafida right where it is
  now. But if you decide it's not allowed, we'll
  accept that."
  Keema took a deep breath. "The laws are not
  exact. You can have your few minutes, Kirk. his
  "Thank you," Kirk said with grateful relief.
  "Bones his

  Chapter Ten
  CAPTAIN S LOO tilde SUPPLEMENTAL:
  Following Dr. McCoy's examination of the dead
  Wwafida, the landing party has returned to the
  ship to analyze all the new data collected
on the
  island called Suberein by the native
inhabitants.
  As soon as Dr. McCoy and Scence Officer
Spock
  present their conclusions, I will have to decide if
  we have enough evidence to confront the
  Akkallan government or to make a formal
  recommendation to the Federation for quick
  mediation..
  KIRK, SPOOK Zz tilde v and Llissa
Kkayn, Maybri,
  and Greenberger sat around the table in the
  darkened briefing room while McCoy delivered
  his summary, complete with exhaustive
  illustrations from his tricorder scans of the de-
  ceased creature and subsequent computer-graphic
  diagrams and charts, all projected on the main
  viewscreen.
  was and there's the blowhole that's opened in the
  back of the neck," he said, using the
laser-pointer.
  "That would be the dorsal surface of an animal
  that swims. Internally, a preexisting branch of the
  trachea opens and connects the blowhole with the
  lungs. Next, you can see how membranes have
  developed between fingers and toes, with a corre-
  sponding growth of cartilage between finger and
  toe bones, giving the extremities extra
length and
  flexibility, making hands into fins, and feet and
  legs into powerful flippers. Most body
hair is
  shed, since that'd just cause aquadynamic
  drag and on this cross-section, we see where an
  extra layer of insulating blubber develops,
and the
  musculature is reshaped."

  "How old is it, Leonard?" Llissa asked.
  "Well, based on interviews, the oldest people on
  the island are around forty, and I'd estimate this
  dead Wwafida is about twenty-five to thirty
years
  older than that."
  "Bones," Kirk said slowly, "is all this
possible?"
  "Ask me three days ago and l'd've said no.
But
  now? Well, you've seen what I've seen.
It's hard
  to argue with it."
  "There are scientific precedents for such a
  metamorphosis," Spock said. "In the standard
  model of evolution, indigenous life generally
  develops in planetary seas and migrates
to land,
  with efficacious mutations enabling the transition.
  On earth, cetaceans whales and dolphins
  reversed the process and readapted to aquatic
  existence after millions of years as land-dwelling
  mammals."
  "Basic biology, Jim," McCoy said
helpfully. "In
  the course of prenatal development, the
  humanoid fetus goes through stages that resemble
  more primitive species, heading
progressively
  toward the final birth stage. Just shows that any
  given creature can go through an awful lot of
  changes during its life span."
  "But Spock said it himself it took whales
  millions of years to return to the sea and
readapt.
  According to what we've been told, it takes these
  island people a matter of months. his
  McCoy shrugged. "Well, it only takes
nine
  months for a human fetus to go from conception
  to birth, and that's makin' a whole baby from
  scratch. There's nothing in the rule book that
says
  this Akkallan senescence can't happen. Rare,
  yes but impossible, no."
  Kirk thumped his elbows onto the table. "Then
  what causes this senescence and why don't all
  Akkallans go through it?"
  "Computer," McCoy said, "comparative
diagrams
  of standard Akkallan physiology and
Galeayan."
  The appropriate graphics were traced on the
  screen, and McCoy picked up the pointer again,
  flashing its pinpoint beam onto the images. "The
  only difference between one of Keema's people
  and Llissa, other than increased height, is this
a
  small gland I found under the right arm of every
  person on Suberein. But Llissa doesn't have
it."
  "But we do," she said. "It's called the dgynt
  gland, and it's removed at birth."

  McCoy looked at her. "It is? Why?"
  "Custom. We name our infants in a ceremony
a
  few days after birth, and that's when the
gland's
  removed. It's a simple, painless process and
up
  till now, our medical community believed the
  gland had no real function."
  "It goes back at least three thousand years,"
  Zzev added. "It started as a religious
ceremony.
  When it's removed, the gland is thrown into the
  ocean, kind of a symbolic sacrifice that
sanctifies
  the new life by showing its devotion to Mother
  Sea."
  "Everybody on Akkalla has this gland
removed?"
  Kirk asked.
  Zzev nodded. "Even back when the mainland
  was run by a bunch of warlords always fighting
  each other, religion was never the issue. Because
  our continent is relatively small, we have
only a
  single religion. The naming ceremony was
  something from the scriptures that became
  secular."
  "So was Kirk asked, looking around the
table,
  "does the dgynt gland cause the senescence?"
  "I did some tests on the older Galeaya, and
now
  the results make more sense," McCoy
replied.
  "Those still in their reproductive years have no
  dgynt hormone in their bloodstreams. But once
  they're past the reproductive phase, they've
got
  varying traces of it. And the farther they get past
  the end of the fertile cycle, the higher the level."
  "Indeed," Spock said. "Then that would appear
  to be medical confirmation of our hypothesis."
  Kirk sat back. "You mean the simple act of
  removing this gland is what makes the
  difference?"
  "That's what it looks like," McCoy said.
  "If it wasn't removed, then all
Akkallans would
  change into Wwafida?" The question was
  rhetorical, and no one bothered to state the
  self-evident reply. "That means in
prehistoric
  times, before the Akkallan religion
started the
  naming ceremony, the seas must have been full of
  Wwafida."
  "And that must've been going on for at least a
  hundred thousand years," Llissa said in numb
  tones.
  "But why change a biological fact of
life?"
  McCoy wondered. "Why did your religious
leaders
  decide to do that? They must've had a reason."
  Llissa shook her head. "If they did, it's
been lost
  in time.

  Maybe they decided it was advantageous for
  civilisation have us live our whole lives on
land.
  Maybe those scrolls we found'll tell us
something
  once we translate them."
  "So now," Maybri said, "the only people who still
  go through the senescence are these stone-age
  islanders. The Akkallan government must've
  stumbled across them when they did those energy
  tests."
  "But why keep "em a secret all these
years?"
  Greenberger said. "If I suddenly found a
whole
  new population of people who turned into sea
  creatures, I'd sure want to study 'em."
  "Maybe not," Kirk dissented. "Not if you were a
  planetary ruler looking to protect the status
quo.
  Think of the cultural implications of learning
  you've got a race of intelligent beings living in
  your ocean somewhere. And you've got a fresh
  new treaty with your neighboring world, supplying
  unlimited fuel for industrialisation in exchange
for
  unlimited fishing in those oceans."
  "Right," said McCoy. "You couldn't very well
tell
  the Akkallan public, 'Oh, by the way, those
  harvest ships are scooping up people who've
  changed into those legendary Wwafida you
  thought never really existed." I don't think it
  would go over very well."
  "So, what do we do next, Jim?" said
Llissa.
  "Take on the Publican?"
  "If we could've preserved that dead Wwafida,
  we'd be able to. But we've still got no tangible
  proof."
  "We've got all our medical records,"
McCoy
  protested. "I finally get somewhere, and you don't
  even want to use it?"
  "It's not enough Bones. Not for the Publican
  and Vvox. It might stand up in a fair court
  hearing, but I don't think we can expect that here.
  If we could get one of Keema's people going
  through the change his
  McCoy shook his head. "By my estimates,
it'll be
  at least five months before any of "em are
  changed enough to prove all this."
  "There's another problem, Kirk," Zzev said.
  "The triteera migration is pretty much
complete,
  and they're not far from Suberein. This is the first
  time since the Chorymi broke the treaty that
  they're going to have a crack at all those huge
  creatures."
  "How come they never harvested this far north
  before?"
  "Because triteera not only feed here, they mate
  here too.

  Our government didn't want the harvests to
  disrupt the triteera's reproduction. So the
treaty
  stated no harvesting of northern herds. Now with
  the treaty inoperative . . ."
  "Admiral," Spock said, ""that answers a
question
  I had as to why the harvest ships never found the
  Galeaya. Their paths never crossed. This is the
  season for the Galeaya to hunt triteera
  themselves. If, as we suspect, the Chorymi
fleet
  raids these northern waters, the Galeaya are in
  grave danger. They stand not only to lose their
  annual catch of triteera, but should they be caught
  in a harvest zone, they may also lose the lives
of
  their most accomplished fishermen. For a
  precarious population, those combined results
  could prove disastrous."
  "Jim," McCoy said, "we've gotta do
something."
  "What do you suggest, doctor?" Spock
inquired.
  "I don't give a damn about the Akkallan
  government, but we have to at least help those
  people on the island. We've gotta stop the
  Chorymi raids."
  "Dr. McCoy," Spock said gravely, "are
you
  advocating a military confrontation?"
  "If that's what it takes, dammit, then yes.
The
  Chorymi wouldn't have the nerve to take on a
  starship."
  "Upon what do you base that assumption? To
  the Chorymi, the situation is desperate. Although
  it is unlikely they could inflict serious
damage on
  the Enterprise, there is a more perilous
possibility."
  "And what's that, Spock?"
  "We may be forced to fire on them, to disable
  their vessels or even destroy one or more."
  "Action," Kirk said, "that would
cripple any
  chance the Federation has to mediate some sort
  of peaceful solution to the mess in this star
  system. A military confrontation must be
avoided."
  "At all costs, Kirk?" Zzev demanded.
"What
  good is power if you never use it?"
  "I didn't say at all costs, Dr.
Kkayn. Whenever
  possible, the power of this starship is to be used
  as a deterrent and a persuasive prod, not a
  bludgeon."
  McCoy spread his hands in frustration. "Then
  what the hell are we gonna do sit by and wait
till
  this whole thing explodes?"
  "We must construct an impregnable case,"
Spock
  said

  calmly, "one that cannot be ignored by Federation
  authorities."
  "And the only way to do that," McCoy said, his
  voice sapped by resignation, "is to find
a living
  Wwafida, which we may never do."
  Zzev pounded a fist on the table. "Then let's
  make one." Questioning gazes turned his way, and
  he met them without flinching. "McCoy, your
  medical reports say the only
physiological
  difference between mainland Akkallans and the
  Galeaya from Suberein is the dgynt gland. Can
  you synthesize the hormone?"
  "I I suppose so. What kind of question is that?"
  "If there's nothing else that keeps the rest of us
  from going through senescence, then I'm willing
  to take the dgynt hormone in concentrated doses
  and change myself into a Wwafida. Then you'll
  have your living proof, and we can get on with
  toppling this slimy government and halting the
  harvests once and for all. And on top of all that,
  I'd be able to make contact with other Wwafida,
  and warn them about the harvest raid."
  McCoy stared at him. "Are you out of your
  waterlogged mind?"
  "I'm offering you the solution to this quandary.
  I don't hear anyone else coming up with a better
  one."
  "Kkayn," McCoy argued, "you don't have the
  slightest idea what this hormone could do to you."
  "Sure I do turn me into a Wwafida."
  "Your body may not be prepared to accept the
  hormone. That Hand may not be dormant all
  during presenescence. The fact that the islanders
  are taller practically proves there's something
  going on before they change completely. We fool
  with this stuff and it could kill you."
  "It's my life, and I'm willing to take that
risk.
  Instead of arguing with me, you should be going
  over all your medical data and learning everything
  you can to make sure you don't kill me."
  "Bones." Kirk's tone was solemn. "Is it
possible?"
  Incredulous, McCoy spun to face the
Admiral.
  "Jim, I've never treated a garden-variety,
  air-breathin' Akkallan, let alone one who's
turning
  into a fishl"
  "You sell yourself short," Zzov said casually.
  "Your briefings prove you're already pretty
  familiar with basic

  Akkallan physiology. Kirk obviously
thinks you're
  a comply tent physician. And Llissa can
help you."
  She glared at her father. "What makes you think
  I agree with this idea of yours?"
  "All right, Llissa," said Kirk. "What do
you think?"
  "I agree with Leonard. It's a crazy
idea, and it's
  likely that Zzev is going to wind up dead if
we go
  through with it."
  "But if it could be done without putting your
  father's life in danger, would you help?"
  With her mouth twisted into a disapproving
  scowl, Llissa gave a nod distinctly lacking
in
  enthusiasm.
  "All right then," Kirk said. "Bones, I
won't order
  you to do this. If you judge it's an unsafe
  procedure, we'll forget about it. All I ask
is that
  you evaluate the idea with an open mind. Then
  give me your recommendation."
  "Evaluate," McCoy grumbled sarcastically.
"Then
  it's up to me?"
  "It's up to you." Jim smiled. "Aren't you the
one
  who used to claim you could cure a rainy day?"
  McCoy snorted. "Damned lousy time to start
  quoting the gospel according to me . . ."
  An hour later, Kirk sat in his quarters
munching
  an apple trying to relax. It wasn't working.
If
  McCoy found Zzev's proposal unworkable,
what
  options did they have? Not a hell of a lot. And
  even if the doctor said yes, was it still medical
  insanity?
  Kirk's door tone chimed. "Come."
  The door slid aside, and McCoy came in,
  looking hunched and grumpy. He plowed a hand
  through his hair and slumped into the recliner
  facing Kirk's desk.
  "I checked everything I could think of.
Did
  computer simulations. God help me, I even
asked
  Spock for his input."
  "And his
  "And it looks like the hormone treatment might
  work. By that I mean the treatment itself
  probably won't kill him. But whether the
creature
  he becomes'll really be able to function as a
  completely adapted sea-dweller, I just don't
know.
  I I wish we had another choice."
  "Do we?"
  McCoy shrugged. "No. But I don't mind
telling
  you, I'm

  not comfortable with this plan, Jim. I feel like I'm
  some sort of Dr. Frankenstein, going against
  nature."
  "I wouldn't say that, Bones." Kirk paused.
"In
  fact, I think you're doing the opposite. The
  Akkallans've been going against
nature ever since
  they started removing those glands thousands of
  years ago. You're just using some genetic
  engineering tricks to help nature do what it used
  to do perfectly well on its own."
  McCoy chewed on that for a few seconds.
  "Hmm. Maybe you're right. But I still don't like
  it."
  "You don't have to like it. All you have to do
  is do it."
  "I guess. Well, I already have Dr. Chapel
  worlcin' on manufacturing the required
quantity
  of the hormone. We're gonna need a big water
  tank in sickbay. I want Zzev Kkayn in
there while
  we're doing this. I want him close to emergency
  equipment, in case anything goes wrong."
  "I've got faith in you, Bones."
  McCoy's eyebrows scrunched into a frown.
  "Well, I'm glad somebody does."
  "Okay. We'll get on that water tank.
Anything
  else you need?"
  McCoy got up and headed for the door.
  "Anything else I need was he muttered. "I
need my
  head examined for getting into this."
  By McCoy's best estimate, it would take
seven
  days for Zzev Kkayn to change into a being
  minimally capable of physical survival in the
open
  ocean a timetable about which Zzev was not
  pleased. He insisted on an accelerated pace,
  claiming the Galeaya might not have seven days,
  certain that a massive Chorymi harvest fleet
  would strike well before that.
  With Kirk's backing, McCoy refused any
course
  changes. As much as the ship's surgeon wanted
to
  help the friendly island people, this whole
  procedure still gave him a belly full of
  tension-churned acid. Sailing waters this
  uncharted, he wouldn't abandon his instinct for
  caution when a life was at risk, even when the
life
  belonged to someone as surly as Zzov.
  By the end of the first day, McCoy was
cursing
  himself for having such a well-developed sense of
  ethics. He'd ruled that, from the instant the
  treatments began, Zzev would

  have to be confined to sickbay. And McCoy was
  so r ervous about the entire experiment, he barely
  left the medical section himself, despite the
fact
  that this relentless proximity exposed him to the
  Akkallan's constant carping. When McCoy
  retreated from the wardroom to his office to
  escape, Zzev promptly disregarded the
doctor's
  prescription for total bedrest until they could
  gauge the hormone's effects, hopped off his
bed,
  and padded after his quarry to continue the
  abusive barrage of criticism.
  It was nearly dinnertime. Zzev had been quiet
  for the past twenty minutes, and McCoy took the
  opportunity to tug his boots offend put his
feet up
  on the desktop. He'd just closed his eyes when
  the intercom whistled. For an instant, he
thought
  of ignoring it, then reconsidered. "Sickbay."
  "That you, Bones?" Kirk's face appeared on
the
  desk screen.
  "Who wants to know?"
  Kirk grinned. "Tough day?"
  "You don't know how tough."
  "Tell me over dinner."
  "Thanks, Jim. But no thanks."
  "Just what do you think you're doing?" said a
  new and accusatory voice from behind him.
  McCoy clunked his feet to the floor as he
spun
  around to see Christine Chapel glaring at him.
  "What d'you mean, what am I doing? I'm being
  an antisocial curmudgeon. You're allowed
once
  you reach my age."
  "Admiral," Chapel said, addressing the
intercom
  screen over McCoy's shoulder, "he'll be
there."
  "Says who?" McCoy stood and found himself
  nose to nose with his associate.
  "Says me. You've been cooped up here with
  that patient all day. You need a change of
  scenery. Go to dinner with the admiral."
  "Okay, okay," McCoy sniffed. "But
don't expect
  me to be great company."
  Chapel shoved him toward the door. "Leonard,
  he's known you too long to expect miracles."
  Kirk and McCoy sat alone in an isolated
corner
  of the mess lounge, enjoying dessert and coffee.
  "I've been good, haven't 1?" McCoy said
around
  a mouth

  ful of apple pie. "Haven't talked about
  you-know-who for the whole meal."
  "Do you want to?"
  "Sure. Why should I suffer alone?"
  "Go ahead, doctor."
  "I will. That Akkallan is impossible. Nothing
we
  do is right or so he thinks and he still hasn't
  given up the idea of speeding up the treatments."
  "How's it going so far, medically
speaking?"
  "Medically speaking, he's a pain in my rear
end.
  But the treatment seems to be working. Why
  don't you come on down and take a look?"
  When they were done with dinner, Kirk did just
  that, finding Zzev Kkayn sitting up in a
sickbay
  bed, reading a book on the bedside library
viewer.
  The diagnostic panel above him showed his body
  functions to be steady and strong.
  "Where's the water tank?" Kirk asked.
  "That comes up here tomorrow," said McCoy.
  "He's not ready for it yet."
  Kirk looked the Akkallan over from head to
  toe. The changes, if any, weren't yet
apparent.
  "How're you feeling?"
  "Like a prisoner, Kirk."
  "This whole thing was your idea," McCoy
  snapped. "But now that we're doing it, we're
doing
  it my way. He's feeling fine, Jim."
  "What's happening to him? He looks the
same to
  me."
  "Ahh, someone agrees with me!" Zzev said.
  "Shut up. The changes aren't visible yet, for the
  most part." McCoy raked his fingers through
  Zzev's hair, and several strands came out.
"He's
  starting to shed body hair. Hold up your hand,
  Zzev. Look he's starting to grow the
membranes
  between digits. Toes, too. And there're lots of
  internal things going on buildup of blubber,
  alteration of muscles. It's not instant, y'know."
  The sickbay door whooshed open, and Llissa
  entered from the corridor, a little surprised to see
  the crowd gathered. "Is he all right?"
  "I'm fine. Everybody else get out of here.
I want
  some privacy with my daughter."
  "You do?" McCoy brows arched suspiciously.
  "Since when?"

  - "Since now!" Zzev thundered. "Leave us
alone.
  The others filed out, and Llissa stood
a pace
  away, arms akimbo. "Well?" she said.
  Zzev looked away. "Llissa I know we
haven't
  had much of a family connection all these years,
  and well, this may be our last chance. Once
I've
  changed over, I'm not going to be dropping by for
  dinner on holidays, y'know."
  Llissa's eyes narrowed. "That never bothered
  you before."
  "That was when it was voluntary. And maybe I
  was wrong and thick-headed. A man's entitled to
  admit his mistakes, isn't he?"
  "Do you mean that?" Llissa asked.
  "Partly."
  She snorted. "Which part?"
  "Why does everything have to be an argument
  with you?"
  She could see her father was having difficulty
  moving, and she came to the bedside. "Are you
  sure you're all right? Are you in any pain?"
  "I'm fine. It's not pain exactly. It's just
that if I
  don't move for a while, the next time
I try to, my
  body isn't the same as it was. I never get
a chance
  to get used to the way everything feels."
  "Then maybe we're going too fast. Once
you're
  out in the ocean, you'd better be functional,
  Zzev."
  "Don't worry."
  "Did you really mean what you said?" she
  repeated. "Are you really sorry for all those
years
  we didn't have together?"
  He didn't answer right away. "Yes and no."
  "What's that supposed to mean?"
  "If we're talking about what I've done with my
  life, then no, I'm not sorry. If leaving
Collegium
  and my family and friends behind was what I had
  to do to get certain things done, and done in my
  own way, then I've got no regrets."
  Llissa felt like dashing from the room, but she
  held her ground, and her dusky eyes bore
into his.
  "That sounds pretty all-encompassing,"
she said
  bitterly. "Where does the sorry part come in?"
  Her defensive tone of voice made it clear
she
  didn't expect much from his response.
  "It's all-encompassing because I don't regret
  very much of my life. If I'd stayed, I'd've
killed
  one of my so-called colleagues, or they'd have
  killed me."

  "Are we done here?" Her ire heated by several
  degrees.
  "No, we're not done. The part I do
  regret deeply is knowing that you became what
  you are and that's pretty damn
  impressive without any help from me. Maybe
  even in spite of me. You're my flesh and
blood,
  Llissa, but that's all we share."
  "You were there for fifteen years of my life.
  That counts for something."
  "But they weren't good years. I don't think I
  contributed much to you those years."
  "I don't know. I was a pretty
observant child."
  "So you observed me and learned what not to
  do, is that what you were going to say?"
  She nodded. "Partly. But I also learned some
  positive things. Mother Sea, I can't believe
I'm
  about to say this his
  "Say what? Is this going to be some deep, dark
  revelation?"
  She laughed. "Mm-hmm. I worshipped you when
  I was growing up."
  "You did?" He was genuinely stunned. "Why?"
  "Oh, I don't know. I've wondered about that a
  lot over the years. Maybe it's because you were
  this angry whirlwind that other people were
  terrified of. But that didn't keep them from
  looking to you for leadership."
  "I didn't want to be their leader. I was never
  accused of being the most cooperative person in
  the place."
  "I knew that. Maybe I learned that a leader
  didn't have to be loved to be a leader, and
  sometimes coercion was at least as important as
  cooperation."
  "Sounds strange coming from you, the queen of
  consensus," he said, half-mocking,
half-admiring.
  "The trick I learned but you never seemed
  to was how to coerce people into going along
  with what I thought was best and get them to
  think it was their idea all the time. How come you
  never figured that out, Zzev?"
  "Not in my nature."
  "It wasn't in mine, either. But sometimes you've
  got to learn to go against your nature to reach
  your goals."
  "Not everyone's capable of that. Lucky for you,
  you are."
  They were quiet for a few awkward moments,
  until Zzev cleared his throat.
  "There's something I need you to do for me his

  "I don't think I like the sound of that."
  "Do we agree that we have to do something to
  stop the harvest raids?"
  "And we are, thanks to your being crazy enough
  to try this."
  "We have to save the Wwafida and the people
  on Suberein."
  "Yes, yes what are you getting at?"
  "If the Chorymi come back and raid the north
  Boreal before I'm ready, then all of this won't
do
  a damn bit of good. We'll be too late
to save
  anybody or anything. The treatment is safe.
I'm
  going through the senescence the same way
  Akkallans did for thousands of years."
  "So?"
  "I want the treatment speeded up, but McCoy
  won't do
  "And I'm sure he's got good reasons."
  "He doesn't. I'd do it myself his
  "You can't," Llissa said sharply. "If you had
a
  strong negative reaction, you might die before
  anyone could get here to help you."
  "That's why I want you to give me a more
  concentrated dose."
  "Oh, no, Zzev."
  "Yes, you've gotta do it! You're taking a
turn on
  monitor watch, right?"
  "Yes, but I'm not his
  "That's when you can do it. By the time
  someone comes to relieve you, the speed-up in
  adaptation will be done with, and we'll have
  proved we can accelerate the treatment safely."
  "You're asking me to his
  "I'm asking you to do what's right, what we have
  to do. Kirk and the others don't have to do this.
  Akkalla's not their world. They're doing this
  because it's their job, and maybe they're going
  beyond the call of duty, but it's still not their
  world. They don't have the stakes we do, Llissa.
  It's our home we have to do more. We have to
  be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice!"
  "Not if that sacrifice destroys whatever chances
  we have of accomplishing what we set out to do."
  "It won't."

  "How do you know that? Nobody's ever done
  this before. If you're wrong his
  "I'm not wrong," he said, his voice suddenly
  serene.
  "What is this, another one of your infamous
  hunches?" she said with irony.
  He nodded. "Is that enough for you?"
  She spread her hands helplessly. "I
don't know.
  I I can't give you an answer yet. That's
going to
  have to be enough for you, at least for now."
  "But you haven't ruled it out."
  "I guess not."
  "We don't have much time, Llissa. You've got
to
  make up your mind soon. If we don't take
the
  risk, we may be dooming ourselves to
  failure and that could finish Akkalla."
  Without another word, Llissa hurried out of
  sickbay.
  Kirk was startled to see Zzev Kkayn the
  following morning. The effects of the artificially
  induced senescence were readily apparent, and
  even McCoy seemed shaken after they examined
  the altered Akkallan.
  "This is spooky, Jim. I've never done
anything
  like this before."
  "Oh, come on, you did genetic modification."
  "That was different. With genetic modification,
  we knew what the results were gonna
be. But
  this his
  "I know what you mean. It's weird watching
  him change. It's it's like peeking inside a
  cocoon."
  "But that's all preordained by Mother Nature.
  We're making this happen, and I I've got no
idea
  if we're doing it right."
  Kirk's forehead furrowed as he looked into his
  friend's eyes, glimpsing the turmoil there. It was
  no secret that McCoy was an emotional man,
but
  those emotions were usually used for particular
  effect, like tools for psychic surgery. For all
his
  moods and outbursts, Kirk had always believed
  McCoy to be as soundly anchored and sure of
  himself as any being he'd ever known. It bothered
  him to see the doctor in this muddle of
  uncertainty, bothered him even more to know
  he'd brought it on by prodding McCoy into
  approving the experimental treatment.

  "I'm sorry, Bones. I don't know
what to say."
  McCoy shrugged. "That makes two of us."
  Later in the day, they placed Zzev in the
  two-meter-high water tank constructed in the
  sickbay ward. To everyone's great relief, he
  seemed perfectly at home, even pleased to be
out
  of the diagnostic bed. Though not large, the tank
  gave him enough room to swim a bit and limber
  up his re-formed muscles. There were no
  noticeable complications, although, as McCoy
  phrased it in conversation with Kirk, "he's still
  kind of like a tadpole."
  "Neither fish nor fowl?" Jim offered.
  McCoy scowled at him. "You're mangling my
  metaphor."
  Llissa volunteered for the overnight monitor
  shift, taking over from Dr. Chapel, who rubbed
  her sleepy eyes as she surrendered the chair at
  the medical console in McCoy's office.
  "No problems at all," Chapel said brightly.
  Llissa's mouth twitched. "What?" she said in
a
  distracted tone.
  "I said no problems. He's been fine
all day."
  "Oh. That's that's good."
  "Are you okay, Dr. Kkayn?"
  Llissa stiffened, sitting straight-backed at the
  monitor panel. "Yes. I'm I'm fine.
Why do you
  ask?"
  "You just seemed a little I don't know jumpy."
  "Just tired, Dr. Chapel."
  "You don't have to take this shift. We can get
  one of the staff to do it."
  "No, that's okay. I'm fine." She stretched
her
  arms over her head. "I'm just not used to
  spending so much time in a spaceship."
  "Well, all right. If you need anything, you know
  how to use the intercom. Dr. McCoy and I can
be
  back to sickbay in a few seconds. Call us
  anytime."
  Llissa watched Chapel leave and the door
slide
  closed.
  The glowing digital clockface confirmed for
  McCoy what his weary bones already
knew. He'd
  been tossing and turning for four hours, with
  hardly a moment of actual rest. No matter
how
  he tried to trick his mind into shutting down

  and not worrying about the crazy project being
  conducted in his sickbay, nothing worked. In fact,
  now that he gave it some thought, he must've
  fallen asleep for a while since he could recall
a
  nightmare about sharp-fanged fishmen ramming
  and capsizing his rowboat during an innocent
  fishing tup.
  "Better to stay awake than go through that
  again," he muttered.
  The bedside intercom whistled and he heard
  Chapel's urgent voice. "'Dr. McCoy
to
  sickbay emergency!"
  He punched the switch. "Coming." Leaping out
  of a tangled blanket, he stripped off his
sweaty
  nightclothes, yanked on a pair of pants,
jammed
  his feet into slippers, threw his robe over his
  shoulders, and ran for sickbay.
  The doors snapped open, and he skidded to a
  halt in the ward. Chapel and an aide were trying
  to hoist Zzev out of the tank the Akkallan was
  in some sort of distress. "Get him out of there!
I
  can't work on a dying man in an aquarium!"
  McCoy joined the others on the catwalk rimming
  the tank and added his hand to the effort. "Where
  the hell is Llissa?" He spun around and saw
her
  cowering across the room. "Get over here and
  help us."
  They got Zzev out of the tank, holding his
  dripping body in their arms as they lowered him
  to the floor, and carrying him to the nearest
  diagnostic bed. The indicators quivered
erratically,
  and McCoy stared at them, trying to figure out
  what was happening to this creature turning ever
  more alien, ever more out of the surgeon's realm
  of experience. "Llissa, get over here! Help
me!"
  She hurried over, her face pale,
eyes hollow.
  "What happened? What did you see on the
  monitors?"
  "Nothing nothing on the monitors," she
  whispered.
  "There must've been something. Dammit, he
  may be dying. I need something to go on!"
  "It it had nothing to do with the monitors. I
  know what happened. I I gave him a
  double-concentration dose of the hormone."
  McCoy wheeled furiously on her. "Are you
  insane?"
  Llissa's composure returned; now that she'd
  made the terrible admission, it seemed easier to
  talk. "Zzev asked me to do it."

  "Andyou agreed"..."...Complete disbelief distorted
  McCoy's face.
  "Not right away."
  "Great. That'll make this premeditated murder."
  "Leonard, do something help him!"
  "I don't know what to do was He grabbed a
  medi-scanner as much out of reflex as with any
  real idea of what to do automatically thumbing
  the mode selector to tie the handheld
device into
  the bedside display screen. He made several
rapid
  passes over Zzev's heaving, shivering body,
then
  watched the charts, graphs, and numbers that
  flashed on the viewscreen.
  "Dr. McCoy," Chapel said in amazement,
"his
  respiration and cardio rates are settling back
to
  predicted levels. His system may be
absorbing the
  extra dosage."
  McCoy looked down at Zzev's face, now
  substantially changed by the middle stages of
  senescence. His mouth had elongated on the
  sides, and his upper lip and nose had extended
  into a slightly beaked formation. His neck had
  widened, giving the appearance that his head was
  mounted directly on increasingly sloped
shoulders,
  forming a streamlined shape that could flow easily
  through water. The beaked mouth opened and
  closed, as if he was trying to speak, but
eerie
  hisses and creaks were all that came out. Zzev
  roiled slightly onto his side, clearing the
nearly
  complete blowhole on his back just below his
  head. The blowhole pulsed, and he tried to talk
  again. This time his words were understandable.
  "Not her fault . . . did as I asked . . .
best thing
  . . . dry . . . back in tank . . . sea
creature now . .
  ."
  "Dr. McCoy," Chapel said, "his body
tissues are
  becoming dehydrated. Look at the mottling on
his
  skin."
  "Mmm looks like he's reached the point where
  he has to be in the water most of the time. That
  means if anything else goes wrong, I've
gotta go
  in there with him, or we've gotta keep pouring
  water over him to keep him wet. Put him back
in
  the tank, Christine. Get a couple of
aides down
  here to help."
  McCoy clamped his hand roughly around
  Llissa's wrist and dragged her out to his
office.
  "That was a damn stupid thing to do."

  She tried to square her shoulders in defiance,
  but the ploy failed. "Maybe it was," she said,
  dejected and bleary-eyed, "but it's done."
  "Why did you do it? What could you've been
  thinking, after everything we said about needing
  to be cautious if we didn't want to kill
him?"
  "I don't know, Leonard."
  "Did he talk you into it?"
  She stiffened. "No. He just articulated some
  things I guess I was already considering. Maybe
  there's more of my father in me than I ever cared
  to admit."
  The door slid open, and an angry Jim
Kirk
  stormed into the office, wearing his uniform pants
  and a black T-shirt pulled on over hair he
hadn't
  bothered to comb. "Chapel called me down. What
  in God's name were you trying to do, Llissa?"
  "Trying to save my planet, Jim," she
stated,
  summoning all her tattered dignity.
  "By sabotaging McCoy's treatment schedule?"
  "No, of course not. But I started to think my
  father was right, that we couldn't wait. If we did,
  it might be too late to help. I decided it's
our
  world, so it was our decision."
  "How is he, Bones?"
  "How the hell am I supposed to know? For the
  moment, he seems to be stable. But I don't have
  the slightest idea what the overdose'll do to him
  in the long run."
  "Look," Llissa said, "we knew from the
outset
  that there was no control in this experiment, no
  sacred protocol. In the end, it was his life, and
he
  wanted to take the added risk. I decided to go
  along."
  Kirk shook his head, not quite comprehending.
  "Well, what's done is done.
We're stuck with the
  consequences, whatever they may be."
  "You all can go on back to sleep," McCoy
said.
  "I wasn't sleeping anyway I'll spend the
night in
  sickbay, just in case."
  "Okay," said Kirk. "Call me if anything
happens."
  He started for the door, but Llissa lingered.
  "I can't sleep either, and besides, I'm the one
  who's supposed to be on monitor duty."
  McCoy's dirty look made her pause. But
he held
  his tongue.

  "So, unless I'm barred from sickbay, I'll
stay and
  keep you company. Hmm?"
  He glowered at her. "Fine, as long as you
don't
  do anything I'll want to strangle you for."
  "Promise."
  "Which I suppose isn't binding."
  "Right."
  Kirk rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "I want you
  both alive in the morning which, unfortunately,
  is only a couple of hours from now. Good
night."
  The whistle of the intercom made Jim wince
  and tug the blanket over his face. His hand
  fumbled for the switch on the audio terminal. He
  emphatically did not want to face the bright light
  from the viewscreen right now. "Kirk here," he
  mumbled.
  "Good morning," said McCoy's voice. "Are
you
  in the closet? I can barely hear you. his
  Kirk slipped the blanket beneath his chin. "Is
  that better?"
  "Yeah. Just thought I'd pass along some good
  news. Llissa's damn fool meddling appears
to have
  done no damage. In fact, the pace of
senescence
  has speeded up quite a bit. I'd guess
Zzev'll be
  ready for the open seas by tomorrow. his
  That made Jim sit up. "That's three days
early."
  "Yep. That means we'd betterigure out
exactly
  what we're gonna do with him."
  "I'll meet you in sickbay in a half-hour.
Kirk out."
  "I'm worried about the glycoprotein level,"
  McCoy said. He, Kirk, Spock, and
Llissa sat at
  the briefing-room table.
  "The what ?" Kirk said, feeling ignorant.
  "They're proteins that act like a sort of
  biological antifreeze in animals that live
in cold
  climates or cold water. They keep the
cells from
  freezing solid. Otherwise, they'd rupture and
  destroy the tissue. Now, I'm not sure what
the
  right level should be in a Wwafida, but I can't
  help but feel that Zzev's body's been
sluggish in
  building 'em up."
  "Well, we've still got a lime time."
  "We've discovered another unforeseen
  development, Jim," said Llissa.

  It was difficult to tell from her tone just how
  serious this was, but Kirk braced himself.
"What's
  that?"
  "My father's lost the ability to communicate
  vocally."
  "It has to do with the rerouting of his
  respiratory system," McCoy pitched in.
"See, in
  making the dorsal blowhole the primary external
  breathing organ, air doesn't pass over the
vocal
  cords in the larynx anymore. Without that, he
  can't speak the way humanoids like us normally
  do."
  "How much of a problem is that going to be?
  How do we communicate with him?"
  "Evidently" Spock said, "the Wwafida
counteract
  the loss of vocaiization in two ways. They are
  capable of producing a variety of whistles and
  clicks, which actually travel underwater with
  considerably greater efficiency than the sounds
  produced by our larynxes his
  "And the second way?" Kirk asked
impatiently.
  "They are able to communicate telepathically,"
  Spock replied. "I have already ascertained that I
  am able to establish contact with Dr. Kkayn over
  some distance."
  "We experimented," McCoy said.
  Kirk raised his eyebrows. "I see you all were
  busy before I got my wake-up call. All
right,
  Spock. Present your plan."
  "We will utilizetheCousteau to transport Zzev
  directly to the seas off the island of Suberein.
He
  will attempt to make contact with other Wwafida
  and inform them of the impending harvest raid."
  "Dammit," Kirk growled, "why is he so
set on
  risking his life to warn them of a raid that may
  not take place? And he may not even find any
  Wwafida. If anything happens to him, we're
back
  to square one. Llissa, can't you try again to talk
  him out of this?"
  "No, Jim, I can't talk him out of
it. He didn't go
  through this just to become an exhibit. Contacting
  the Wwafida is very important to him. It's the
  breakthrough he's been working for." She paused,
  then continued more quietly but just as
  passionately. "And he's not the only one."
  "Then you agree with him? Even knowing how
  dangerous this is?"
  "Yes, I do. There are lives at stake,
Jim the
  lives of the Wwafida are just as important as the
  lives of the people on Suberein and the lives of
  my friends at Collegium. And if contacting those
  Wwafida to warn them about the harvest

  can make a difference, then I think we should do
  it. As far as being back to square one, you've still
  got me. If my father dies, I'd be willing
to
  undergo the same treatment. Well still have proof
  that senescence takes place and Wwafida are
  real."
  With a frustrated sigh, Kirk turned back
to his
  science officer. "Recommendations on
shuttle
  personnel."
  "Dr. McCoy, Llissa, Chekov, and myself.
I will
  serve as our communications link with Zzev."
  "Approved," Kirk said grudgingly. "But
make
  sure Zzev understands we don't want him
  searching the entire ocean for Wwaf tilde da.
I don't
  want you and the shuttle getting caught up in a
  Chorymi raid."
  "I will impress upon him the need for caution,
  Admiral."
  "We'll be scanning, so we'll be able to give you
  plenty of warning if a harvest fleet's
spotted, but
  that won't do you any good if you've got to wait
  hours for him to get back to the ship. He'd
better
  understand that if it's necessary to save the shuttle
  and its crew, you'll leave Akkalla without him."
  From his balcony at the Cloistered Tower,
  Publican Abben Ffaridor watched as an
armada of
  thirty military cutters idled in the smooth
water of
  Havensbay, gathered across the harbor at the base
  of the Citadel cliffs. It was dusk, and a veil
of
  clouds turned the sky dark and melancholy. The
  fleet, built of the most heavily armed craft
on
  Akkalla and commanded personally by Brigadier
  Jjenna Vvox, would be leaving port soon,
bearing
  northwest. With no harvest raiders hitting the
  planet for nearly a week, Vvox had become
  convinced the enemy was waiting for the massing
  of the giant triteera in their northern feeding and
  mating grounds. She argued that this would be the
  time and place to make a convincing stand. If her
  combined force could turn back the hunting
  convoy, it would prove to the Chorymi that they
  couldn't continue to raid Akkallan seas with
  impunity.
  Ffaridor had timidly voiced doubt that the
  oceangoing vessels could turn away Chorymi
  spacecraft, but Vvox was certain previous
  defensive forays had failed because they'd
lacked
  the firepower. This armada would write a
  different outcome altogether. With the Chorymi
  thus warned, she promised, she and Ffaridor
  would buy themselves the

  reprieve they needed to deal with the chaos
  caused by martial law and the imprisonment of
  legislators, scientists, and educators and by the
  curfews, disruptions, and unrest still spreading
  like concentric shock waves from the radical
  actions they'd initiated.
  This military mission, Vvox swore, would end
  the nightmare and bring on a new morning of
  light and progress by ridding them of the shadow
  and threat of more Chorymi raids.
  Had he been able to foresee the consequences
  of what he'd done in recent weeks, Ffaridor
might
  not have gone through with the grand plan to
  maid Akkalla's government to fit the vision he
  and Vvex had nurtured and shared together.
  Together? Or had he been maneuvered by his
  brigadier? He could no longer separate fact

  perception, no longer be sure of who'd been
  responsible for strategies that once seemed so
  promising and now had his rule teetering on the
  brink of a precipice no less perilous than the
  craggy bluffs that protected the harbor entrance
  below his balcony.
  But it was too late for regrets. Nothing they'd
  done could be undone. Was it too late for
  prayers? As he watched the cutters glide in
  silence through the strait of Havensbay toward
  the open waters of the ocean, Ffaridor wondered
  if the nightmare was truly about to end or if it
  had yet to begin.

  Chapter Eleven
  THE SEASHU-RRLE COUSTEAU emerged from
  the starship s hangar bay and streaked across
  black, starlit space toward Akkalla.
Inside its fiery
  cocoon, the shuttle pierced the planet's wreath
of
  atmosphere, then traversed a dawn sky that was
  sullen and overcast.
  McCoy pressed his nose to one of the aft-cabin
  viewports. "What the devil are those
things?"
  Llissa joined him at the port. They were alone
  in the compartment, with Chekov and Spock in
  the cockpit and Zzev in the water-filled
air-lock
  beldeck. Even at an altitude of two
miles, they
  could make out the jagged backs of thousands of
  triteera, gleaming as they plunged through the
  waves in an endless procession. These were the
  stragglers, still on their migratory journey
north.
  "Triteera the biggest, most magnificent
  creatures on Akkalla and sure to be
endangered
  as a species if the harvest raids keep going.
Might
  not happen tomorrow, but it will eventually."
  McCoy turned pensive. "I've read that's
what
  happened to whales on earth hunted near to
  extinction before whaling finally stopped. Some
  species came back, but it was too late for a
lot of
  'em."
  "Probably no species is indispensable, but
nature
  put them here for some good reason, I think,"
  Llissa mused. "You'll never know when one that's
  gone turns out to be the one you need someday."
  With surgical precision, Chekov piloted the
  shuttle down, decelerating and skimming the
  waves, incidentally giving a

  closer view of the triteeracontinuing with their
  voyage and their dining.
  "They don't even notice us," McCoy
marveled.
  "Then again, if I was their size, I guess I
wouldn't
  care much about a little ship like this either. Are
  they intelligentThat"
  "We don't know haven't been able to study
  them closeup. Now that we've opened up this part
  of the world, maybe we'll be able to. Especially
if
  my father can make contact with Wwafida and
  cooperate with them."
  Up front, Spock and Chekov consulted the
  navigational chart displayed on a computer
  screen. They were about forty kilometers off the
  southeast tip of Suberein, perhaps a kilometer
or
  less from the fringe of the triteera herd. "Set us
  down here, Mr. Chekov."
  With a sure touch on the thrusters, the Russian
  stopped their forward motion and lowered the
  craft gently down onto the rolling surface
of the
  sea.
  The Akkallan cutters fanned out in a wedge,
  with Vvax on the bridge of the lead vessel. She
  and three of her officers crowded around the
  scanning console, staring at the small visual
  display screen with its vector lines and locational
  grid. A barrel-cheated trooper named Ttoom
sat
  with his hands on the scanner controls.
  "It's off the grid, brigadier," Ttoom said
with
  assurance. "And that means it either crashed or it
  landed on the ocean exactly where it gave us our
  last reading."
  "Then it couldn't be a Chorymi convoy," Vvax
  said. "And if it's not a harvest raid,
then it has to
  be from the starship. Whatever they're doing, I
  want to catch them at it. Pilot," she called
across
  the bridge cabin, "change course to intercept!"
  Kirk rested his elbows on the railing circling the
  elevated outer bridge level, standing below the
  science station where Ensign Greenberger sat
  peering into the sensor viewer. Her deft fingers
  bounced lightly across the science computer
  console, and the sensor image flashed on the
  screen above her. "Positive l.d.,
Admiral. Thirty
  Akkallan ships, military cutters
by configuration
  and size, heading dead-on for where the Cousteau
  just landed."

  "Damn." Kirk balled his fingers into fists.
"What
  about spacescans any activity between Akkalla
  and Chorym?"
  Greenberger whisked a blond forelock off her
  cheek and punched up an outbound view of the
  solar system. "Nosh ing, sir."
  Kirk started to turn toward Uhura at
  communications when the young science officer
  abruptly spun in her seat.
  "Hold on they're out there! Just came within
  range." She stared into the viewer again, reciting
  the readout as it came up. "I'm picking up
three
  of those monster harvest ships and ten escort
  fighters."
  Kirk's jaw tightened. "Shields up, Sulu
full
  power. Greenberger tilde istance from Alckallan
  surface boats to the shuttle."
  "Ten kilometers."
  "Okay, they're not in immediate danger. Uhura,
  open a channel to the Chorymi harvest convoy."
  Spock and Llissa knelt on the rim of the
  air-lock platform. Zzev Kkayn or the being
he'd
  become in the past four days bobbed in the
  water, waiting for them to open the hatch and set
  him free to roam the domain that would be his
  home for the rest of his life. Spock's hand was
  poised at the hatch control.
  "Are you ready, Dr. Kkayn?"
Spock said aloud,
  since Zzev could still hear even though he could
  no longer speak.
  Ready, Spock Zzev thought back. Let's
get this over
  with.
  "Wait," Llissa blurted. "I want
to to say
  something to him."
  "We have little time to spare," Spock said.
  "I know. Zzev Father I don't even know what
  to call you. We might not ever see each other
  again. I never thought about what to say to you
  until this instant, and now there's more than I
  have time to say."
  Spock Zzev thought, tell her she doesn't have
to
  say anything
  "I can hear him," Llissa said, startled. "I
mean,
  I can sense him. At least some of what he's
  thinking at us. How come I couldn't back on the
  Enterprise?"
  "Perhaps because he has become more adept at
  transmitting. Fascinating. This means
that it is
  possible for land

  dwelling Akkallans to communicate with
Wwafida.
  Now, please hurry. We must release him."
  LlissaeaZzev thought, glad we worked together . .
  . wasn't perfect. . . some of. . . old
arguments. . .
  better than we might've. . . when I come
back. . .
  Now, open the damn hatch!
  "That last part I got loud and clear. Open the
  hatch, Spock." She reached down, and Zzev
lifted
  a webbed fin-hand out of the water to brush her
  fingers.
  With a muffled rumble, the hatch slid aside.
  Zzev flipped, feet up, and dove through the
  opening out into the ocean.
  Spock and Llissa clambered up the ladder to the
  aft compartment, hurrying to the science console.
  Chekov and McCoy were already there.
  "The transponder is functioning perfectly,"
said
  Chekov with a firm nod.
  They all watched the telemetry being beamed
  back to the shuttle, displaying his depth,
direction,
  and distance from the ship. "Good, good," Spock
  murmured. "He is proceeding with caution and
  appears to be attempting to get accustomed to his
  new surroundings before diving to greater depths."
  "This is Admiral James T. Kirk of the
  Federation starship Enterprise I repeat do not
  approach Akkalla. If that's your intention, we
will
  be forced to intervene. Please acknowledge."
  Uhura shook her head. "No response,
sir."
  "Greenberger ?"
  "They're still coming, Admiral. No deviation in
  course or speed. If they heard us his
  "They heard us."
  "Then they don't give a damn sir."
  "Enterprise to Cousteau come in, Spock."
  "Spock here."
  "We've got problems on two fronts.
There's a
  Chorymi harvest convoy on its way and a
heel of
  thirty Akkal right-brace an military
boats. I suspect the
  Akkallan force was on its way to defend against
  an anticipated raid, but they spotted you, and
  they're headed in your direction."
  "Indeed Those are distressing developments."

  "Yeah, and we're going to have our hands full
  up here. We may not be able to cover you from
  two directions. Better not release Zzev.
Just get
  out of there and return to the Enterprise. his
  "We have already released Zzev."
  "Then get him back aboard, on the double."
  "I shall attempt to recall him."
  "Make it fast, Spock. Let us know as soon
as
  he's aboard. We'll do what we can to give you
  some breathing room. Kirk out."
  Spock shut off the comm system, then turned to
  face the direction in which Zzev was swimming.
  He closed his eyes and concentrated all his
  considerable mental powers on reaching out
  through the watery distance between them. In
  silent anxiety, Chekov, McCoy, and
Llissa
  watched him.
  Zzev, Spock thought, trying to infuse his
signal
  with as much urgency as possible, you must return
  to the shuttle. We must leave Akkalla at
once. We
  are endangered by both a Chorymi harvest convoy
  and a group of Akkallan military boats.
  Spock waited. Nothing.
  Zzev, are you sensing my thoughts?
  Still nothing.
  Then
  Spock's eyes opened wide as he absorbed a
  burst of euphoric mental energy.
  Amazing! Amazing! Swimming free isn "t
like
  anything I've ever experienced! It's like a
religious
  revelation seeing the true face of Another Sea
for
  the very f rst time in my life. The colors the
feeling
  of being part of a whole.
  Zzev, Spock tried to interrupt, you must come
  back
  But either Zzev didn't hear, or he simply
wasn't
  listening as he swam and pirouetted in a Joyous
  ballet. The freedom, he exulted. There's
nothing
  like it on the land. Maybe flying is like this no
  limits, no bonds or chains I'm going to try
diving
  deeper now. There are some triteera not too far
  away. I wonder what they'll think of me? But
no
  Rwanda so far.
  No, Zzev, Spock called out with his mind. You
  must not
  * * *

  The sleek Akkallan military cutters
skipped over
  the whitecaps, riding high on their hydrofoil
  outriggers. In the lead craft, Trooper
Ttoom
  pressed his earphone tightly to his head.
  "Brigadier Vvox, Defense
Control reports a
  Chorymi raiding convoy approaching the planet.
  It's a big one."
  Vvox crossed the bridge cabin and leaned
close.
  "How big?"
  "Three mother ships, ten fighters."
  The brigadier gave him a flinty glare. "Are
they
  in the atmosphere yet?"
  Ttoom shook his head.
  "Then we take care of these starship interlopers
  first. We're going to even a few scores today,
  Ttoom. You keep in touch with Central. Keep
  updating the position of the Chorymi."
  Ensign Greenberger pivoted in her seat. "The
  Akkallan boats're still closing, Admiral."
  Kirk leaned forward in the command chair. "Mr.
  Sulu, are you ready for some precision phaser
  surgery?"
  The helmsman looked back over his shoulder
  with cleareyed confidence. "Aye, sir."
  "Set power at minimum fire a couple of
bursts
  just off the bows of the lead boats in their
wedge."
  "Herd them away from the shuttle, sir?"
  "Exactly. I'm hoping this'll be enough to buy
  Spock some time. I don't want to have to use
stun
  force. If we knock out those cutter crews, the
  vessels'll be out of control. I want to avoid
loss of
  Akkallan lives if at all possible."
  "Understood." Sulu keyed his weaponry controls
  to implement Kirk's orders, priming phaser
banks
  at minimum power, and engaged the tracking
  system on target. "Phasers locked and ready,
sir."
  "Tactical display on main viewer," said
Kirk.
  Sulu obliged, and the image of the planet was
  replaced with a green sensor grid of lines and
  concentric circles. At the center of the grid, a
  winking red spot marked the sea shuttle, sitting
  motionless in the ocean. From the lower right
  corner, thirty yellow blips made up the
advancing
  wedge of Akkallan cutters, cruising
inexorably
  toward the Cousteau.

  "Fire at will, Mr. Sulu."
  "Aye, sir." Sulu peered at his targeting
scope.
  The crosshairs levered, centered and he hit the
  trigger.
  Three needle-sharp beams of energy spiked
  through the Akkallan atmosphere and struck the
  surface of the ocean in a triangle exactly
ten
  meters from the bow of Brigadier Vvox's
cutter.
  Even at their lowest setting, the fire-orange
bolts
  boiled the water into a blinding screen of
  steaming vapor. It happened so quickly that the
  only reactions possible on the sea vessels were
  those springing out of pure reflex, including an
  instantaneous yank on the steering wheel by the
  pilot, sending people sprawling all over the boat.
  The cutter swerved into the path of the next boat
  over, forcing it in turn to cut suddenly. Within
  seconds, the entire right half of the
formation had
  sundered into fifteen pieces, like a badly cut
gem
  shattering into shards. The other half of the delta
  fell into chaos too, as those pilots tried
to figure
  out what was going on.
  At the bottom of a pile of fallen bodies,
Vvox
  spluttered as she shoved Ttoom and three other
  troopers off her and scrambled to her feet. The
  pilot had also been forced to slam the throttle
  back to lower speed, causing the hydrofoils to
  retract. They were now subject to both the tossing
  of the waves and the spasmodic pitching of
  crossed wakes.
  Ttoom hauled himself up. "What was that?"
  "The starship," Vvox growled. "Signal every
  cutter get back into formation now!"
  "Right away," said Ttoom as he stumbled across
  the heaving deck to the radio console.
  The yellow blips jostled erratically on the
  Enterprise viewscreen, their forward progress
  halted for the moment.
  "Nice shooting, Mr. Sulu."
  "My pleasure, Admiral. We don't want
to let
  them regroup."
  Kirk stretched an approving hand. "At your
  discretion, commander."
  Sulu grinned and turned back to the targeting
  display on

  his panel. "Now that we've got 'em stopped,
let's
  get 'em corralled." His fingers flashed across the
  buttons on his console
  and six pillars of fire sizzled into the sea
  around the scattering surface vessels, driving
them
  farther off course and farther toward complete
  confusion.
  Uissa sat across from Spock in the shuttle's
rear
  cabin, her hands clasped at her chin, searching the
  Vulcan's face for some sign that he was getting
  through to her father, getting him to come back
  before they had to leave without him.
  "Chekov," said Spock, "prepare for
liftoff."
  "Spock," McCoy began, then muzzled his
dissent.
  There was no choice.
  Spock closed his eyes again, head bowed,
  centering his concentration once more on
  communicating with Zzev. Llissa could no longer
  sit, and she jumped up, opening all the
viewports
  and pacing from one to the other hoping for a
  glimpse of her father swimming toward the
  shuttle.
  Suddenly, Spock's head snapped up" eyes
  clamped shut. Zzov! Where have you been?
  I can't come back, Spock, Zzev thought back
to
  him. I know they're here, very, very near I feel
it. I
  have to warn them. Don't worry about me. If you
  have to leave, go. Protect yourselves. I'll dive
deeper
  than the raiders can reach. I'll be safe.
  Zzev, Zzev you are not yet acclimated for great
  depths. Surface for a breath first.
  I'll be f net It feels like I've been
doing this all my life. In case
Llissa can't receive my thoughts, tell
  her tell her I'll be safe. I'm going down
  now much darker just a few meters farther down.
  Colder, too. Tell McCoy I seem to have
enough
  glycoproteins.
  Zzev, if you must dive, do it slowly.
  Can't see the light above anymore. Like night
  here hard to tell directions
  With Sulu keeping an eye on the Akkallan
  cutters, firing another phaser salvo when needed
  to hold them at bay, the main viewscreen again
  showed outer space, and by now the

  Chorymi convoy was close enough to appear as a
  collection of specks in the centerof the starfield.
  "Anything, Uhura?" said Kirk.
  "Negative, sir."
  "All right." Kirk's jaw took on a
belligerent set.
  "New message."
  Kirk thumbed the comm button on his armrest.
  "This is Admiral Kirk of the U.s.s.
Enterprise. If
  you cross the plane of this vessel's
orbit, we will
  have no choice but to fire on you, This is your
  only warning."
  Getting short of breath got to get to
  surface need air . . . Not sure which
direction
  Then there was a long silence. Spock waited.
  Zzev, respond
  More silence. Llissa didn't know exactly
what
  was happening, but she knew she didn't like the
  creases deepening around Spock's eyes.
  Spock can't find it can't get to can't
  The Vulcan wrenched his eyelids open and tried
  to stand but slumped back into the seat,
  completely drained. Llissa dropped to her
knees
  in front of him and shook him by the shoulders.
  "Spock, where is he?"
  His parched lips opened, but no sound came
  out. He gazed at her with hollow eyes. "I
lost
  contact," he finally whispered.
  Chekov looked back from the cockpit. "The
  transponder is still working."
  "But that doesn't mean he's still alive,"
Llissa
  said, her voice numb.
  "Do something," McCoy urged "I don't care
if
  it's logical just make it fast!"
  "I shall continue trying to contact him," Spock
  said, regaining his orientation. "He is a sea
  creature now. He may have capabilities of which
  we are not aware his
  "Is that the best you can do?"
  The science officer raised a rueful eyebrow.
"Yes."
  Under maximum tension, the Enterprise bridge
  crew tended strictly to business, with no
  extraneous conversation, just an undercurrent of
  job-related murmurings from the outer ring of
  work stations At times like this, when Kirk

  had little to do but wait for something to happen,
  the comparative quiet could be unnerving, and he
  was glad to bear Greenberger's voice out loud.
  "Admiral, some of the Chorymi ships're
  changing course."
  He pivoted toward the science station.
"Which
  ones?"
  "Four of the fighters, sir."
  "Heading?"
  "Right at us."
  Kirk leaned back in his chair and crossed his
  arms. "Evidently, a word to the wise wasn't
  sufficient. Sulu, status of the Akkallan
surface
  fleet?"
  He smiled. "They'll never win any awards for
  choreography, sir."
  "Good. Keep two phaser banks aimed at the
  planet. Lock the others onto the Chorymi
  fighters."
  "Power level, sir?"
  "Make it one tilde uarter power, Sulu. That
should
  be enough to shake 'em up."
  On the viewscreen, the diamond-shaped fighters
  were clearly discernible now, Rowing larger as
  they bore down on the Enterprise. Without
  warning, all four fired their weapons, licks of
blue
  flame spitting from their cannons, energy
pellets
  streaking across black space. The pellets
exploded
  harmlessly against the starship's deflector field,
  with only a slight shudder reaching the bridge
  deck. The tiny fighters split into pairs, two
peeling
  off to the right, two to the left, wheeling around
  for another pass.
  "Shields solid, Admiral," Sulu
reported. "Phasers
  tracking."
  "Hold your fire, Mr. Sulu. Is the mother
ship
  within range?"
  "Yes, sir."
  "Lock onto it. When I give the word, fire
across
  its bow."
  "Aye, sir." Sulu adjusted his target
controls, then
  flexed his fingers above the trigger buttons,
  waiting.
  Out in space, the quartet of Chorymi fighters
  regrouped and charged toward the Enterprise
  again.
  Kirk leaned forward, one elbow resting on his
  knee, chin propped on that hand. "Stand by,
Sulu."
  He paused. "Fire!"
  Without even a split second's delay, the
  helmsman pressed the trigger button, and an
anuy
  orange bolt lanced

  out from the starship and sizzled across the
  harvest ship's blunt nose.
  "Mr. Sulu, fire again."
  The second phaser beam slashed past, missing
  by a hair's breadth.
  Without a return shot, the four fighters veered
  sharply and retreated to the relative security of
  their convoy.
  "Admiral," Greenberger said, "they've stopped
  their engines, holding their position."
  "Message from the Chorymi fleet commander,"
  Uhura said. She patched the signal to the
bridge
  speaker, and the voice that came out was a
  flustered mixture of fury and fear. was
won't
  standfor this unwarranted hostility. We demand an
  apology and your assurance of safe passage
to our
  destination. Reply now!"
  Kirk's index finger jabbed the comm button on
  his chair. "This is Admiral Kirk of the
Enterprise.
  You fired first, commander. You are violating
  Akkallan space, and you've ignored the valid
  request of a Federation vessel that you stop.
  You'll get no apology for initiating hostile
action.
  And as for safe passage, you've already arrived at
  your destination. You'll hold your present
  position until I give you permission to depart.
If
  you don't do as I say, we'll be forced
to pursue
  and disable your ship. Is that understood,
  commander was Kirk's tone made it clear he
wasn't
  asking a question.
  "Yes," the Chorymi growled.
  "Good. Enterprise out."
  All eyes remained on Spock Chekov
looking
  back from the pilot's seat, Llissa and
McCoy
  huddled around the Vulcan in the cramped an
  compartment. Spock's own eyes were still closed
  as he listened for the vaguest hint of a telepathic
  sign from Zzev Kkayn. The transponder
signal
  continued to wink on the computer screen.
  "Dammit, it's been forever," McCoy finally
  blurted.
  Spock's eyes opened. "It has been two
minutes,
  fifty-three seconds, doctor."
  "What're we gonna do, Spock? We can't
keep
  waiting here."
  "No, we cannot. Mr. Chekov, prepare to
  submerge the shuttle."

  "Submerge? What for?" said McCoy.
  "To follow the transponder signal and ascertain
  Zzev's condition."
  "But, sir," Chekov said, "Admiral
Kirk ordered us
  to his
  "I am well aware of the-admiral's orders,
  lieutenant," Spock said. "Submerge
immediately,
  and head directly for the location of the
  transponder beacon."
  "Yes, Mr. Spock," said Chekov.
  The shuttle dipped below the waves, enveloped
  by the sea. As they went deeper into darkness,
  Llissa glanced at the directional locator
display on
  the screen and sucked in an astonished breath.
  "Look! He's coming back to the surface."
  "Continue closing, Mr. Chekov," Spock said
as
  he and McCoy turned to the screen.
  "Can those numbers be wrong?" McCoy asked,
  his voice apprehensive.
  Spock ran the sensing system through a quick
  check. "It appears to be functioning."
  "Then he must be all right."
  "Not necessarily, Dr. McCoy. There could be
any
  number of reasons why the transponder
is
  surfacing, including his
  "Dammit, Spock, this is no time for lists of
his
  "He's right, Leonard," Llissa interrupted.
"Let's
  wait and see what we find."
  "Mr. Spock, look out there," Chekov called
back
  through the midship hatch, turning the craft
  slightly so they could all see a three tilde
uarter view
  through the starboard observation ports. They
  were already deeper than the reach of daylight,
  down in a twilight world of shadows and shimmers
  and darting shapes, where human vision could not
  always be trusted. But there was no mistaking the
  sight rising up from even murkier depths the vast
  bulk of a full-grown triteera.
  In the first seconds of watching the creature,
  Spock was struck by an impression he knew
to be
  illogical, improvable, but there nonetheless. This
  massive animal seemed to be swimming with a
  conscious yet conflicting sense of tender
urgency.
  The Vulcan hit the switches for two starboard
  floodlights. As the beams flashed on, the
triteera's
  three tail-flukes lost their rhythm and quivered
  uncertainly, though for just a couple of beats.

  Spock panned the light toward the animal's
  head and found confirmation for his perception of
  purposeful tenderness in the way it swam. It was
  balancing something on its flat rostrum, nudging
  it toward the world of air and light above. Coming
  a little closer, they got a better look at the
object
  of the triteera'sattention. It appeared to be a
  Wwafida.
  McCoy leaned over the science off tilde cer's
  shoulder, squinting through the port. "Could that
  be Zzev?"
  "Possibly. Mr. Chekov, do not get any
closer to
  the triteera. Head directly for the surface."
  "Spock, is that such a good idea?" McCoy
asked.
  Llissa answered first. "If that is my
father, and
  if he's still alive, that triteers's his best
chance."
  They felt the deck tip back slightly as
Chekov
  let the shuttle rise as quickly as possible. As
the
  Cousteau broke through, water pouring off its
  nose and sides, the triteera came up about
fifty
  meters away, exhaling a plume of steamy breath
  that swirled in the breeze. Only the creature's
  angular head and a short portion of its back were
  out of the water, and it rolled slightly to its right,
  allowing its primary side flipper four meters
of
  shiny, mottled black skin to support the
  Wwafida and keep it floating where it could
  breathe.
  Spock closed his eyes and sent a pulse of
mental
  energy out toward the Wwafida and the triteera.
  Zzev, is that you? Are you able to communicate?
  "Well? Anything?" McCoy prodded.
  Spock opened his mouth to answer, then
  stopped in midbreath.
  Spock his I thought . . . was going to die
  "It is Zzev," the science officer announced
  formally.
  Llissa and McCoy stood stunned for a moment.
  McCoy found his voice first as joy and relief
burst
  across their faces. "It is? Then he's alive?"
  "Obviously," said Spock, arching a critical
brow.
  "And I am going to take an emergency raft and
  retrieve him. Mr. Chekov, while I
prepare the
  raft, take us closer but do so with great care. I
  do not want to alarm the triteera."
  "Aye, sir," Chekov grinned. "Very, very
  carefully." He eased the throttle forward and
  steered toward Zzev and the proprietary creature
  that had saved his life.

  With McCoy's help, Spock released
rescue raft
  from its storage locker in the shuttle ceiling.
Then
  he opened the side hatch, letting the
tangy
  salt tilde sea breeze in, popped the
raft's
  auto-inflation valve, and tossed it down to the
  water, where it unfolded and filled to its
  completed shape. He handed the mooring line to
  McCoy, then climbed down the access ladder.
  "Spock," Llissa called down to him.
"Look what's
  out there."
  He paused at the bottom rung and turned
to see
  what she was pointing at. Prom all around,
small
  sea creatures were joining the triteera, at least
a
  score of them. It wasn't until a pair
swimming
  together leaped all the way out of the water,
  diving playfully, that he could be sure of what they
  were. Now there was no doubt about a lot of
  things.
  "I don't believe it, Spock!" McCoy
shouted.
  "They're Wwaf tilde da!"
  "So they are, doctor," Spock said as he
stepped
  into the bobbing raft. "Now release the line so I
  can get our own Wwaf tilde da back
to safety."
  McCoy threw the cord down. Spock caught
it,
  then found the control stick for the compact
  engine mounted at the raft's stern. He started it
  and drove the inflatable through the swells.
  Faces still spread into wide grins, McCoy and
  Llissa stood in the open hatchway, hanging on
as
  the shuttle rolled with the waves.
  "Dr. McCoy," Chekov yelled from the
cockpit,
  "the ship is calling."
  McCoy ducked back inside and pressed the
  comm button on the computer console. "Jim?"
  "Bones what's going on down there?"
  "It's a long story. Zzev's okay.
Spock's gone out
  to get him. And we found Wwafida tilde lots
of
  them!"
  Kirk slapped his armrest gleefully. "That's
great,
  Bones. Tell Spock to get back up here as
quickly
  as possible."
  "What happened with the Chorymi raid and the
  Akkallan military flotilla?"
  "We've got them both on hold. Now, I've
got one
  more

  piece of business to take care of. We'll see
you in
  a little while. Kirk out."
  Kirk turned toward the communications station.
  "Uhura, contact the Publican. And this time,
we
  don't take no for an answer."
  Abben Ffaridor took a half-step back and
  regarded his painting with a critical eye. In
direct
  contrast to his mood, he'd created a sunny
  landscape with blossom caret dappled
hi11sides and a
  crystal-blue sky not a cloud or
drop of water to
  be seen. Now that the painting was finished, he
  felt a curious sense of tranquillity cosine
over
  him, accompanied by a fatalistic acceptance of the
  real world outside his fantasy work of art. He'd
  been closeted in his suite since Brigadier
Vvox
  and her armada sailed from Havensbay, wrestling
  with decisions made in recent weeks. He still
  didn't think they's been bad decisions, but the
  events they'd set into motion hadn't gone at all
  according to plan.
  He was mildly surprised that the crumbling of
  his wouldbe empire hadn't driven him to despair.
  Whatever finally transpired, he believed in his
  heart that the people of Akkalla would
  understand the extraordinary circumstances that
  had forced him to seek radical solutions to grave
  problems, and they wouldn't blame him. When it
  all came out, and he was certain it would, they
  would see that he did his best.
  His best, as it turned out, hadn't been good
  enough. He thought they would forgive him for
  that.
  What good is order without freedom, freedom
  without truth?
  The old maxim had been running through his
  mind all day. Freedom and truth were truly
  important. That's what his whole term of office
  had been about preserving freedom and truth.
  He hadn't forgotten them, not ever. But without
  order, they would wither and die. They know that,
  don't they? They understand . . .
  They'llforgive me.
  The Publican heard a tap on his door.
"Come in."
  A young female trooper with bright eyes and
  short curls entered diffidently. She looked
barely
  out of childhood.

  Ffaridor knew all the more experienced troopers
  were out trying to quell civil demonstrations and
  riots.
  "I'm sorry to bother you, sir."
  "Quite all right, quite all right. What is it?"
  "Admiral Kirk is calling from the
Enterprise.
  Should I tell him you're too busy to
his
  "No, no. I'll talk to him." He went
slowly to his
  desk and switched on the communications
  console. The screen lit, and Kirk's stern
face
  appeared. Ffaridor sat down. "Yes,
Admiral."
  "We've collected evidence to prove the
existence of
  large numbers of Wwafida, sir, more than enough
to
  convince the Federation Council and prompt an
  investigation into your actions. You know as well as
  I do what the results will be."
  "Yes." Ffaridor paused. "What would you like
me
  to do?"
  Surprise overtook Kirk's severe manner,
and he
  hesitated for a second as he found himself forced
  to change gears. It seemed there wouldn't be any
  confrontation. "Recall your fleet of military
cutters
  from the northern Boreal Ocean. his
  "I can't, AdmiraLike They're out of radio
range."
  "We can take care of that. Uhura, set up a
signal
  relay, please. his
  With her usual competence, she had the
  circuitry arranged in a matter of seconds.
"Ready,
  sir. Publican Ffaridor, you can contact your
fleet any
  time. his
  "Thank you. Brigadier Vvox, this is the
  Publican. I'm reaching you with the help of the
  Enterprise."
  "The Enterprise?" Her voice came over the
  bridge audio system. "What's going on?
They've
  been interfering with our mission, PubJican, and
  they tilde his
  "You're being recalled to port, Jienna,"
Ffaridor
  said in a voice devoid of rancor. "It's
over."
  "No! They don't have the right his
  "But they have the power. That's something you
  should understand."
  "We've got to take on the Chorymi raiders.
his
  "There'll be no raid, "said Kirk
"We'vestopped the
  convoy in space. They've got you outgunned,
  brigadier. his
  "That's impossible."
  "Are you that anxious to shed Akkallan blood?"
  Ffaridor asked, shaking his head in regret.
  * * *

  "What's happened to you?" Vvox shouted, her
  fury and frustration boiling over as she pounded
  her fists on the control panel of her cutter.
"We
  rule Akkalla. We don't take orders from
  Federation intruders!" With bulging eyes, she
  fixed her stare at the radio speaker, as if she
  could see through it all the way to Ffaridor,
  hoping her power over him could force him to
  rescind his decision to cower before Kirk's
  threats.
  "If you'd prefer, brigadier, we'll let the
convoy
  through. I'll collect all Federation personnel
on
  Akkalla, as well as Akkallans wishing
political
  asylum, and leave the mess to you," Kirk said
  evenly.
  "We'll fight, Kirk, and we'll win. This is
our
  world we can't give up." She whirled to search
  the faces of her officers expecting to find rabid
  support. Instead, she saw defeat in their
hollow
  eyes, the same defeat she heard in
Ffaridor's
  voice.
  "Brigadier." It was Kirk on the speaker again.
  "You can agree to these terms immediate release
  of the Synod and all political prisoners,
stop the
  purge directed at your scientists, and obsene
a
  ceasefire with Chorym if they halt their raids
on
  your oceans. The Federation will be glad to
  mediate Akkalla is a Federation
member, after all
  Your choice, Publican Ffaridor."
  "No! Don't take it, Abben," Vvox
hissed,
  spinning back to the radio panel. "Let us
fight for
  what Mother Sea has to offer us all the power
  in his
  Trooper Ttoom bashed the butt of his pistol
  across the back of Vvox's head, and she slumped
  to the deck. "I declare a mutiny," he announced,
  without much spirit. "Anybody want to argue with
  me?" None of the other officers in the bridge
  cabin moved a muscle. "That's what I thought.
  Publican Ffaridor, we'll abide by your
decision."
  Ffaridor sat sadly at his communications station.
  He folded his hands with great dignity. "We
  accept your terms Admiral Kirk."

  Chapter
  CA tilde TAJN'S tr tilde sTARDATE
7835.8:
  A Federation mediation team has arrived, and
  talcs bed tween Aickalla and
Chorym are
  already underway. Meanwhile, on Akicaila itself,
  order has been reestablished after a tense
  standoff between military units loyal to Brigadier
  Vvox and units agreeing to accept the
  constitutional authority of the Continental
  Synod. The Synod is once again in charge, with
  Lord Magister Ddenazay Mmord appointed
  temporary Publican until new elections can
take
  place. Ffaridor and Vvox have been arresters
  and face trial for treason. Dr.
McPhillips and her
  staff have been released unharmed.
  As to the cultural ramifications for Akkallans
of
  rediscovering melt past, that could take a whlie
  to sort out. Llissa Kkayn is bad
less-than at her
  Coliegium post, and she's asked the
  Md tilde hUllps team to stay on and assist
with
  creation of a whole new research program.
  Liissa has some extra hetp. Her father, now

  fully adapted Wwafida, will work as a
Collegium
  consultant and Haison with Wwafida ilving in
  me wild.
  At Mr. Spocic's suggestion, me Federation
will
  help Akkaila become energy-independent by
  using me ocean's thermai layers to produce
  unlimited, dean power. And Chorym has
  accepted the Facieration's offer to apply
  terraforming techniques to help them turn Weir
  deserts back into produce eve land.
  JIM KIRK SAT alone in his quarters,
  conversing with Llissa on the desktop
  intercom screen. "Sounr.-is like you've got
  plenty to keep you busy."

  "That's for sure. was She smiled "And l plan
to be
  right in the middle of everythinand hands-on. These
  past couple of weeks working with your people
  convinced me I'm at my worst when I get
bogged
  down in administration."
  "I think that's a good decision. How do
you feel
  about working with your father?"
  "Not sure. We still don't agree on much, and
he's
  still a terror. But I'm not a child anymore. And
we
  do agree on some basics. his
  "Like?"
  "Wanting to learn everything there is to know
  about Akkalla. Y'know, it's strange. For
thousands
  of years, we've had two groups of intelligent
beings
  inhabiting the same planet, hut in totally
separate
  worlds. Maybe now we can share it as a single
  world. Oh I almost forgot we've got a plan.
his
  "What kind of plan?"
  "When things settle down a little" we're going
to
  propose that Akkallans stop removing the
dgynt
  gland. That means the next generation "ll get
back to
  the life cycle naturegave us. Maybe that
'full give us
  some real unity."
  "I hope so."
  "Thanks for getting involved, Jim. You
didn't have
  to. his
  "That's what they pay us for." He grinned.
  "Oh, it's more than that. Good-bye."
  "Good-bye, Llissa." Kirk touched a
button, and
  the screen went dark. Then he called the
bridge.
  "Mr. Sulu, as soon as we're ready, take
us out of
  orbit."
  Sulu's face appeared on the viewer.
"Heading, sir?"
  Kirk hesitated only a moment. "Home."
  "Home, sir"...As in earth?"
  "That's right. Warp five." Kirk noticed
Sulu's
  openmouthed confusion. "I'll explain later,
  Hikaru. I promise."
  It didn't take long for word to spread.
Within
  twenty minutes, McCoy was at Kirk's
door. "Mind
  if I come in?"
  "Making a house call?"
  "Don't worry it won't cost extra. I
didn't know
  we got orders to go back to earth." McCoy
sat at
  Kirk's desk.
  "We didn't."
  "Then why're we going there?"
  "Brandy?"

  "We're going home for brandy?" McCoy
  gestured at the decanter on Kirk's shelf.
"You
  down to your last bottle? Seems like a waste of
  antimatter drive a whole starship home for a
trip
  to the liquor store."
  Kirk's lips curled into a sardonic
half-grin. "I
  meant, would you like some brandy?"
  "As long as it's medicinal." Kirk
poured, and the
  surgeon took the proffered shot glass. "Now,
  would you like to answer my question? Or are you
  hoping I'll get soused and forget I asked."
  "What was the question?" Kirk asked, eyes wide
  with innocence.
  McCoy glared as if interrogating an intentionally
  obstreperous child. "Why are we headed home?"
  "I'm tired."
  "Why do I have the feeling you're not talking R
  and R?"
  "Because you're unusually perceptive," Kirk
  joshed, then turned serious. "I just decided it was
  time to wake up in a bed that wasn't moving at
  warp-speed."
  "You're giving up Enterprise?" McCoy
asked,
  spacing the words carefully.
  "Mm-hmm."
  "I don't believe it."
  "Believe it."
  "Wait just a damn minute. What's Starfleet
  gonna say about this?"
  Kirk sipped his brandy. "They had their say. I
  talked it over with Admiral Morrow
last month.
  The decision was left to my discretion. We were
  scheduled for shore leave anyway after this
  mission we won't be leaving any holes in
  Starfleet coverage." His sentence was
punctuated
  by the door chime. "Come."
  The door slid open, and Spock entered. "You
  wished to see me, Admiral?"
  "Have a seat, Spock."
  McCoy looked from one to the other. "Jim, does
  he know?"
  "Not yet. You want to tell him?"
  "Not on your life, but I wouldn't miss you
telling
  him."
  "Tell me what, Admiral?"
  "You can't put it off by offering him brandy,"
  McCoy challenged.

  "Actually, I would enjoy a drink, if I
may."
  McCoy did a double-take. "Spock drinking?
You
  giving up the Enterprise? When did I
fall through
  the looking glass?"
  Kirk chuckled.
  "Admiral," Spock said, "did I hear
Dr. McCoy
  correctly?"
  "You did," Jim said.
  "He's decided it's time for a change,"
McCoy
  announced obviously disapproving of the notion.
  "Indeed." Spock'svoice betrayed genuine
  surprise for a Vulcan. "What prompted this
  decision?"
  "Lots of things. Do you know the myth of
  Sisyphus?"
  "A king of Corinth condemned for an eternity in
  Hell to roll a large boulder up a hill,
only to have
  it roll down again," said Spock.
  "That's what I feel like."
  "But we just saved two planets from destroying
  each other," McCoy protested.
  "But Bones for every place we succeed, how
  many times does it turn the other way? How
  many times when there's nobody there to put out
  the fire?"
  "You're not makin" sense, Jim. We need more
  people like you out here, not one less."
  Kirk took a sip, savoring the taste on his
tongue.
  "You're right. That's why I've decided to go
back
  to Starfieet Academy and teach. Time to pass on
  what I know to the next generation make sure
  they're better than we were."
  "Better than us?" McCoy scoffed. "That
won't
  take a teacher that'll take a miracle worker."
  "Then there's the challenge," Kirk said brightly.
  "Jim, don't you remember what happened last
  time you took a shore assignment?"
  "This'll be different. I won't be chief of
  operations. I'll be with young cadets, where the
  action is."
  McCoy shook his head. "You may not feel that
  way when they sail off on the Enterprise and
  you're not with "em."
  "I think you're wrong, Bones. I've been
  considering this for a while. Maybe it was visiting
  Llissa and her Collegium that
crystallised it for
  me. Morrow also promised me some special
  assignments. I won't get stale." He put
a hand on
  McCoy's shoulder. "I appreciate your
input his

  "But your mind's made up. Spoek, don't be
so
  damn quiet. Talk him out of this."
  "That is not my place, doctor nor yours."
  McCoy gulped down the dregs of his brandy.
  "The hell it isn't. You haven't heard the last
from
  me on this, Jim. We're not home yet. I'm
a
  doctor, and I'll try to save you till the
second we
  hit Spacedoek." With that, he clunked his
glass
  down and swept out of the cabin.
  Spoek started to get up. "If there is nothing
  further his
  "Actually, there is." Kirk waited till
Spoek sat
  again. "It's about the ship." He gazed solemnly
at
  his first officer. "She's yours if you want her."
  "Jim . . . you know I have no wish to command."
  "There's nobody else I'd trust with the
  Enterprise. Can't I persuade you?"
  Spoek was silent for a moment. "If the ship were
  to be used for cadet training, I would be willing
to
  assume temporary command. But only as a
  teacher."
  "After a while, you might change your mind and
  want regular command. It grows on you."
  Spoek shook his head. "My hope would be that,
  after a while, you should wish to resume
  command. In which ease, I would be pleased to
  relinquish the center seat."
  Kirk spread his hands plaintively. "Why can't
I
  just be a teacher?"
  "Because you were meant to lead, Jim. I do not
  believe you will be content to remain a teacher.
  Shall I calculate the odds ?" The slightest
hint of
  a smite played at the corners of his
mouth.
  "You drive a hard bargain, Spock. But if
that's
  what it takes, I'll ask Starlet to assign
the
  Enterprise to training duty." He refilled his
glass
  and raised it. "Deal?"
  One slanted eyebrow elevated. "A quaint
human
  custom, this confirmation of agreement by
  consuming a ceremonial beverage. If I
recall, the
  proper response is deal."
  Their glasses clinked together.
  Backlit by reflected moonglow, StarBeet
  Spacedock rode high in earth orbit. The
Enterprise
  Boated inside the cavernous docking bay,
moored
  alongside one of the wedge-shaped service wings
  jutting from the central core structure.
  Most of her crew was on leave now, resting before

  embarking on new assignments. Only
a skeleton
  maintenance staff remained, along with senior
  officers taking care of final details. One of
those
  details was a farewell dinner in a private
corner of
  the mess lounge. In issuing the invitations,
Kirk
  indicated that casual attire would be perfectly
  appropriate. It didn't surprise him
to see his
  senior staff show up in their dress best.
  As appetisers served, the mood was subdued,
  but drinks and camaraderie soon took care of
  that. Kirk didn't want this gathering to be
  funereal, and he was glad to see smiling faces and
  hear boisterous voices by the time a huge cake
  baked in the shape of the starship was brought
  out for dessert. Things quieted down a bit as
Kirk
  stood to cut the first slice.
  "Actually, you should be doing this, McCoy," he
  said. "You're the surgeon."
  "Yeah, but I'm off duty and I've had too
much
  to drink."
  Kirk laughed, then made a careful incision
  around the bridge. "This is for Mr. Spock,"
he said
  with a grin. "By the way, I'd like to thank you all
  for accepting his request that you be part of his
  teaching staff."
  "After all these years of taking orders," Uhura
  said, "it should be fun to boss other people
  around for a while, anyway."
  "Besides," said Scotty, "we'll just be keepin"
her
  in good shape f'r when you' decide to take "er
back,
  sir."
  Kirk brandished the knife in mock anger.
  "Nobody believes me. I won't be back.
Not to
  stay, anyway. But I will be grading you at the
  same time as you're grading those cadets, so you
  all better watch your step."
  "Admiral," Spock said, "are you forgetting
  something?"
  "Forgetting? That's right, I do have an
  announcement. One of you won't be staying
with
  the ship under Mr. Spock." He paused as his
  officers glanced around the table at each other,
  seeking a hint. But they were all equally in the
  dark. "Mr. Chekov, your new assignment will be
  as first officer of the starship Reliant. Starfleet
  told me Captain Terrell was looking for a top
  young officer with wide-ranging experience. I
  suggested you, and since you already happened to
  be at the top of his list, he was more than happy
  to accept my recommendation. Congratulations."

  While everyone broke into applause, Chekov
sat
  stunned, a forkful of cake frozen in midnight.
  The empty corridor rang with the sound of boot
  heels coming around the curve as Uhura, Sulu,
  and Chekov headed for the docking port on the
  starship's flank, where a shuttle pod was waiting
  to take them over to Spacedock.
  "But I don't want to go off alone," Chekov
said
  with unstinting glumness. "I was looking forward
  to being with the rest of the crew."
  "C'mon, Pavel, it's a good
assignment," Uhura
  said. "It's not everybody who gets asked for."
  "I guess it will be good experience." They
  reached a corridor intersection and stopped to
  look down the silent passageways. "It's
hard to
  believe so many years have gone
  "Sure is. Funny how those kids at
Starfleet
  Academy keep getting younger and younger, and
  we haven't aged a day," Sulu said seriously,
then
  burst out with his staccato laugh.
  "Do you remember how old I was when I first
  came aboard?" asked Chekov.
  "Twenty-two," Uhura said, "and green as
grass."
  Chekov grinned. "I was so nervous I could
  hardly speak to the Admiral. And Mr. Spock
his
  Forget it."
  "As I remember it," Uhura said, "you couldn't
  even talk to me."
  "That's because I thought you were the loveliest
  creature I'd ever met his
  "What about me?" Sulu pouted.
  "You were not so lovely, even back then. And
  once I saw you playing with a sword, I thought
  you were one of the strangest creatures I'd ever
  met. All these years later, I know I was
right."
  As they approached the docking port, Chekov's
grin faded and his expression darkened. "I'm going
to miss everybody," he said, swallowing the catch in
his voice.
  "Oh, Pavel," Uhura huffed, "don't get
all weepy on us."
  "Besides," said Sulu, "I have a feeling we'll
all be together again."
  Chekov gave his friend a sidelong glance. "Are
you getting spiritual, Sulu?" he asked
suspiciously.
  "Maybe. Call it karma, but there's something about
  274 serving on this ship. I don't
  know if it's a blessing or a curse I guess a
little of both but I know we'll all be back aboard
her someday."
  They tossed their duffels through the open pod hatch,
then folded into a three-way hug.
  "You take care of yourself out there,
Pavel," Sulu warned.
  "Yeah, kid," Uhura said playfully. "You
won't have us to look out for you anymore."
  "I will be careful. I promise. And you two
take good care of this ship. I don't want to come
back to a rusted hulk."
  "Don't worry," Sulu said. "Admiral
Kirk wouldn't ever let that happen."
  Chekov laughed. "Neither would Mr. Scott."
  They linked arms and filed into the waiting pod. With a
hydraulic whine, the hatch shut and sealed behind them.
Sulu powered up the thrusters and released the docking
ring, and the tiny shuttle moved away. Chekov stood
at the window for a last look at the Enterprise
floating in repose, her curves highlighted
by spotlight beams that made her look alive and
sensuous.
  "Dosvedanya, lubirna," he whispered.
"Good-bye, lady . . ."
  275 COMING IN JUNE...
  THE NEXT 1 tilde
  bar ADVENTURE bar DREAMS OF THE
RAVEN bar Carmen Carter I A merchant shipts
frantic S.o.s. sends the Enterprise bar
speeding to the rescue! But the starship's
mission of I mercy soon becomes a desperate
struggle for survival I against a nightmarish enemy
Captain Kirk can nether I identify nor
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one of his most trusted officers...
  bar For the Leonard McCoy Kirk knew is
gone. In his place i stands a stranger, a man with
no memory of his bar Starfleet career, his
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