late. She no longer had anything she wished to say

 

to her mother.

 

Simons perched on the foot of the bed.

 

"I don't want to see my little girl trapped on

 

a world where sex is constantly demanded, but no one

 

knows anything of love."

 

Janara swallowed a sour grin. The sexual

 

openness of Deltan society and the Deltan ethic

 

against manipulating others for personal gain limited

 

what someone like Simons could do among Deltans.

 

Simons' opinions were biased by her prejudices.

 

"You make it sound as though Deltans are trained

 

to emulate Orion slave women. I assure you

 

that is not the case. Besides, I experience more than enough

 

emotion here on the Enterprise. was "Honey, you

 

don't even know what it means. Let me show you

 

what it's like to be a real, human woman."

 

Janara bit her tongue to hold back a bitter

 

reply. Some of her earliest memories were of

 

Simons' violent emotions. By the time Janara was

 

old enough to understand her psychic abilities and begin

 

to control them, she loathed her mother's turbulent

 

passions and all the benefits Simons claimed for

 

them. Finally, shaking with the effort of maintaining her

 

control, Janara found a neutral answer. "I

 

am not you, Mother, and I must live my own life.

 

Your choices may be right for you, but they aren't for

 

me."

 

Simons flushed with anger, but held her position

 

on the foot of the bed. She forced a cloying smile.

 

"Let's not fight about that now, darling. We can talk

 

about something else, can't we?"

 

"What should we discuss?" Janara heard the

 

change in her mother's tone-Simons was coming to the

 

purpose for the visit. "Well, there's everything that's

 

been happening on the ship. Yonnie's fit to be

 

tied over the problems with

 

his negotiations, and he's off at all hours

 

conferring with his aides. And now, to top it off, our

 

computer terminal is down, and Captain Kirk

 

won't send someone to fix it."

 

Janara lifted an eyebrow in a gesture

 

copied from Spock. Vulcan gestures were the only

 

thing that irritated her mother more than Deltan

 

mannerisms, and Janara hoped Simons'

 

annoyance would lessen her caution. Janara's

 

instincts told her Simons was lying, but even when

 

she concentrated, her head was too fuzzy from the

 

boretelin to register her mother's duplicity. "Could

 

I borrow your computer terminal for a while, darling?

 

I wanted to record messages for some friends. If

 

you don't mind, that is." "I don't mind."

 

Janara watched the tension leave her mother's

 

posture. "Unfortunately, the captain's blocked

 

off the entire computer system, and I haven't got

 

my console unlocked. Also, you'd have to clear your

 

programs through Shan Tenaida."

 

"What do you mean? Why's that?" Simons' body

 

snapped as tight as a drawn bowstring.

 

"I don't know. They said there was a system

 

glitch. Someone has to check each program

 

separately."

 

"That'll take forever. I just want to send some

 

messages. Surely you can arrange that much for your

 

dear mother."

 

""Fraid not. I can't even use my own

 

programs until I get them cleared." "I will

 

talk to the captain!" Simons stood, squaring her

 

shoulders with angry determination. "Surely he'll

 

let me use the computer for what I need to do."

 

"Don't count on it, Mother." Janara's voice

 

stopped Simons halfway to the door. "Captain

 

Kirk isn't very fond of you these days."

 

Simons whirled around. "How do you know that? Have you

 

been trying your nasty Deltan mind-reading tricks

 

on him?"

 

Janara laughed, enjoying the feeling of being at the

 

warp buoy ahead of her mother. "I've

 

seen his face when your name is mentioned. You are not one

 

of his favorite people."

 

"We'll see about that." Simons stomped out the

 

door. Janara dropped into her pillows and threw

 

an arm over her eyes. For the only time in her

 

life, she regretted not knowing what her mother was

 

thinking. Simons would never go through such an

 

elaborate charade just to record a few

 

messages. If she wanted access to Janara's

 

computer console, her reasons must equal the effort

 

expended on the performance. If Simons needed

 

to use the computer that badly . . .

 

Once the thought occurred to her, Janara could not

 

dismiss it. Finally, she reported the incident

 

to Captain Kirk. Afterward, she felt unaccountably

 

relieved. She stretched out, closed her eyes, and

 

was soon fast asleep.

 

Kirk and McCoy met outside the Kaldorni

 

ambassador's quarters. The doctor was fidgeting

 

with the collar of his dress uniform. Kirk shuddered,

 

feeling a sympathetic tightness around his own neck that

 

had nothing to do with the cut of the uniform. If he let

 

himself think about it much longer, he knew he would

 

develop as strong an aversion to dress uniforms as

 

McCoy. "What's the matter, Bones?

 

This uniform was your idea. Are you having second

 

thoughts?" "As a matter of fact, yes!" McCoy

 

gave his collar a second tug. "I was just

 

remembering how hot those women wanted my

 

Sickbay."

 

Kirk laughed. "You remember the old saying,

 

Bones comwhen in Rome..." "Yeah." McCoy

 

shrugged. "The ambassador was very anxious to give us

 

this thank-you dinner. He seemed to think he owed it

 

to us."

 

"Then, in the interests of diplomacy, perhaps we

 

shouldn't keep him waiting. I wish I knew a little

 

more about Kaldorni customs, though."

 

They entered, pausing at the door while their eyes

 

adjusted to the dim lighting and their bodies to the

 

oppressive heat. The temperature in the

 

Kaldorni's rooms was nearly the maximum the

 

Enterprise's environmental equipment could

 

produce, and McCoy was reminded once again of the

 

temperature in the ship's sauna.

 

Klee bowed to greet them, his movements

 

accompanied by the jingling of the jewelry that covered his

 

chest. His crimson robes were lavishly

 

embroidered with metallic thread and decorated with

 

gemstones. "Welcome, honored guests,

 

to our humble lodgings."

 

Kirk and McCoy exchanged glances, uncertain

 

of the proper etiquette for a formal Kaldorni

 

evening. "The pleasure is ours, Kirk replied.

 

Klee's wives entered the room. In unison, they

 

gave McCoy an elaborate bow, followed by a

 

different, but no less complex, greeting to Kirk.

 

Three of the women wore dark brown robes and

 

black, heavy veils, while the other three were

 

dressed in rose-colored outfits and translucent

 

veils. Kirk was surprised to see their faces.

 

The robes were richly embroidered and trimmed with a

 

deep red that matched the ambassador's robe.

 

"If the honored guests would come this way-was The

 

women formed a corridor leading away from the door,

 

and the ambassador escorted Kirk and McCoy

 

into the cabin's workroom. The standard furniture was

 

gone. In its place, several sumptuous rugs were

 

spread in a circle. Perfumed candles burned on

 

every counter top, casting a mellow radiance that the

 

room's artificial lights could not match. Kirk

 

gave mental thanks to whoever had recorded the

 

Kaldorni's ceremonial use of candles in the

 

information the ship had received; without that warning

 

to reprogram the room sensors and the air

 

reprocessors, he shuddered to think what this display

 

would have done to the Enterprise's alarms and safety

 

system.

 

"The place of honor for the Doctor McCoy

 

and the

 

Captain Kirk is beneath the Representation of the

 

Unities." Klee gestured for them to kneel on the

 

rug under the large wall hanging. Kirk looked at

 

the tapestry, admiring the abstract design and warm

 

colors. The Kaldomi's clothing, he realized,

 

reflected the design in the wall hanging.

 

McCoy knelt, struggling to fold his legs beneath

 

him. By the time Kirk found a comfortable position, the

 

ambassador was seated opposite them. The three

 

women in the rose outfits knelt between Klee and the

 

two humans, but the other women disappeared, leaving

 

half of the circle empty. They returned a moment

 

later with a bronze tray holding a ceramic

 

figurine. It was about a third of a meter high and

 

intricately carved. Through the many openings, Kirk

 

saw the vermilion glow of coals burning in the

 

heart of the statuette. The figure reminded him of the

 

fire-god figurine he had once seen in

 

Spock's quarters. The women placed the tray before

 

Kirk and McCoy and retreated to the other

 

room.

 

"This is the Center of Harmonies," Klee said.

 

"It will witness this ceremony and record that all is

 

properly observed." He stretched his arms over his

 

head and bowed until his forehead touched the floor. The

 

women copied him, and after a slight hesitation, so

 

did Kirk and McCoy. Klee then led the women

 

in a sustained recitation in the Kaldorni

 

language. Antiphonal progressions of questions and

 

answers alternated with unison chants until

 

Kirk felt his pulse slip into the rhythms set

 

by the Kaldorni voices. At times, the women in the

 

other room intoned a counterpoint to the dominant

 

cadences.

 

After a while, Kirk found himself wondering how

 

long the ritual was going to take. He kept thinking

 

of all the things he should be doing to catch the spy, and

 

worrying about what the intruder was doing while he was

 

trapped here in a hot room by the Kaldorni love

 

of ceremony.

 

When the chant finally ended, the Kaldorni

 

unfolded from their prone positions. Kirk gritted

 

his teeth and struggled to lift his torso; he found that,

 

after remaining prostrate for so long, his muscles were

 

reluctant to move. McCoy, he noted

 

sourly, sat up easily, and Kirk vowed to get

 

even with the doctor later for showing up his captain.

 

The brown-robed women returned carrying brass

 

trays heaped with food. The other women took the

 

platters and knelt in a semicircle in front of

 

Kirk and McCoy. One at a time, each woman

 

extended her arms and offered her tray to the captain.

 

While Klee explained her gift, each woman

 

bowed deeply, first to Kirk and then to McCoy.

 

"This is Joy-of-Morning. She brings you

 

sweetness of spirit and willing eagerness in all things.

 

This is symbolized by the fruits and flowers she

 

gives you." The woman's willowy grace enchanted

 

Kirk. A small smile briefly lit her

 

heart-shaped face as she presented the tray.

 

"Shade-in-Sun is the quiet one. She brings you

 

calmness of temper and a steadiness for work. This is

 

symbolized by the cheese and the meat she brings."

 

Kirk felt himself sliding into her wide, misty

 

eyes. She broke the contact and stared at the floor

 

for the rest of the presentation. "Fire-in-Night is the

 

restless one. She is much skilled in the musical

 

arts and knows many ways to delight the senses. This is

 

symbolized by the candies and pastries she bears."

 

With liquid, hummingbird movements, the

 

woman offered her tray to Kirk. Her swift

 

smile was molten and sensual. "Now, most honored

 

guests, it is required that you consume a mouthful from

 

each tray, and present to your servants a selection

 

from that tray." Kirk nodded to show he understood. He

 

chose a small, bluish red fruit and shared it with

 

McCoy. It was both tart and sweet, and the juice

 

ran down his face. He wiped his mouth with the back of

 

his hand.

 

When he gave fruits to each Kaldorni

 

woman, they ate with dainty bites. Kirk

 

repeated the ritual with the meat and the pastries. As they

 

finished, the brown-robed women appeared with a tray of

 

eating platters. Joy-of-Morning took the tray,

 

knelt before Kirk, and offered it to him.

 

"Our honored guests may now select

 

platters and fill them with the foods of their choice.

 

After that, the others will follow."

 

Kirk took the top platter and loaded it with

 

food; McCoy took smaller servings. When they

 

had settled back to eat, each of the rose-garbed

 

Kaldorni women filled a plate and returned

 

to her original place in the circle. The

 

brown-robed women carried the food to Klee. He

 

thanked them and loaded his platter

 

to overflowing. Only then did the three women fill

 

platters for themselves and retire to the other room

 

to eat. They all ate in silence, broken only by the

 

jingle of the Kaldorni's jewelry. After a few

 

bites, Kirk understood why Ambassador Klee

 

was so overweight-the food was delicious! Kirk

 

wondered why all the Kaldorni were not more obese-he

 

knew he would overindulge if he were served a steady

 

diet of such food. For a while, the captain forgot

 

his impatience with Kaldorni formalities and enjoyed

 

his meal.

 

McCoy, watching him eat, made a mental

 

note to give him another detox pill when they

 

left. One capsule should have counteracted the trace

 

substances in the Kaldorni food that were harmful

 

to human metabolism, but Kirk was eating too

 

much.

 

When everyone had cleared their plates-except for the

 

ritual amounts of fruit, meat, and pastry that were

 

fed into the Center of Harmonies-the brownrobed women

 

removed the remnants of the feast. They returned with

 

two hyaline goblets and a tall flask made of

 

interwoven multicolored glass ropes. The

 

tallest woman unstopped the flask and

 

half-filled the smaller cup with the deep

 

green liquid. She set the

 

chalice in front of the ambassador and stood behind

 

him with her dark-robed co-wives.

 

Fire-in-Night heated the flask over the

 

Center of Harmonies until the liquid turned a

 

pale blue. She filled the larger cup and offered it

 

to Kirk with a deep bow.

 

"The most honored captain should drink deeply

 

of the Fire-of-Life, and then give the honored

 

doctor and each of his humble servants a taste of the

 

Fire. After this, he may finish the cup."

 

Kirk sipped cautiously. The drink was warm and

 

had a pleasant smoky aftertaste. He took a

 

larger swallow before passing the cup to McCoy and the

 

three Kaldorni women. When the last woman had

 

taken her ritual mouthful, Kirk drained the cup.

 

Klee picked up his own drink, swallowed the

 

liquid in one gulp, and inverted the cup on the

 

floor. "I have now paid my debt to those I can no

 

longer protect, and have passed their guardianship

 

over to one who has proven himse lf more capable of their

 

care. May the Balance of the Universe be restored,

 

now that I have atoned for my failure to fulfill my

 

responsibilities, and may my honor be

 

sufficient to achieve the great mission my people

 

have required of me."

 

At first, Kirk heard only the finality in

 

Klee's voice that released him from the interminable

 

formal evening. Then he realized Klee intended

 

something more than an elaborate farewell to his

 

guests. "What? Wait a minute. What did you

 

say?" A dawning realization began to spread in

 

Kirk's mind.

 

McCoy, realizing that his subconscious had

 

suspected the purpose of the ceremony from the start,

 

struggled to suppress a grin. "The medicine of your

 

dependent, the honored Doctor McCoy, cured

 

these women where the methods of my people could not. You have

 

proven yourself more worthy to care for them than their former

 

husband." Klee sounded ready to break into tears.

 

He looked at Kirk wi/lly. "A person

 

with as

 

much status as the honored captain should have enough

 

wives to reflect that status. May the venerable

 

captain cherish and care for his new wives, and may

 

they serve him well, as long as he preserves his

 

Harmony-with-the-Universe." With that, Klee

 

climbed to his feet and led the three brown-robed

 

women from the room. Kirk was surprised that the

 

squat Kaldorni could move so quickly.

 

He stared at the women kneeling before him. His

 

wives? Kirk shook his head, trying to clear it.

 

That wine must have been stronger than I thought. I

 

couldn't have heard him say that! He looked again at the

 

women, and decided his ears had not deceived him.

 

McCoy, kneeling beside him, was having trouble containing

 

his amusement.

 

Honor, duties, responsibilities-he

 

tried to remember the words Klee had used, so he

 

would have the appropriate ammunition to discuss the

 

situation with the Kaldorni. Before he found an argument

 

he thought might stand a chance, the women took charge.

 

They rose to their feet and began tugging on his arms.

 

"Come." "Home go." "Captain home." They

 

repeated the phrases as they pulled him toward the

 

door. Finally, he yielded and took them to his

 

quarters. With luck, the Universal Translator

 

would allow him to straighten this out. As they walked down

 

the corridor, McCoy's broad grin only

 

emphasized the impossibility of the situation. "You

 

seem to be enjoying this," Kirk grumbled, making a

 

sour face.

 

"You mean, you-all aren't?" McCoy gave him

 

a wide-eyed, innocent look. "I thought having

 

several wives was the ultimate

 

spaceman's fantasy. Now you'll never have

 

to worry about not getting enough exercise."

 

Kirk scowled. "You're forgetting that even the

 

cargo handler on a garbage scow likes to choose his

 

partners."

 

McCoy's grin widened. "I haven't

 

forgotten. But the ambassador must not have heard."

 

They stopped at the door of Kirk's quarters.

 

"I have some things to do in Sickbay. Enjoy getting

 

to know your new wives. And don't forget to take

 

another detox pill."

 

"Right." He watched McCoy disappear down the

 

corridor, plotting how to get even with the doctor for

 

his amusement. It did little to help his mood when it

 

occurred to him that, by any logic he knew, the women

 

should have been McCoy's. Shaking his head, he showed

 

the Kaldorni women into his quarters. His first

 

plan was to convince them to return to the ambassador.

 

After an hour of discussion in his quarters, he gave

 

up. All three women insisted it was their duty

 

to care and provide for the honored Captain Kirk,

 

whose servant, the honored doctor, had saved their

 

lives with his medical skills. Kirk's arguments

 

made them weep and beg him to tell them how they had

 

displeased their worthy husband, but nothing he

 

said could make them return to Ambassador

 

Klee's quarters. Defeated, Kirk adjusted the

 

temperature as high as it would go and ordered extra

 

blankets for the women. Then he settled himself for a

 

long and uncomfortable night in the chair by his

 

worktable.

 

"MAY I BE PERMITTED t0 sit here?"

 

Kristiann Norris swallowed a mouthful of her

 

breakfast. "Speaker t'Stror, of course, have a

 

seat. I haven't seen much of you lately."

 

"I have been performing atonements for not perceiving my

 

master's orders as he wished." t'Stror slid

 

into the chair. "He has been involved with family

 

concerns and has only just now ordered that I inquire

 

if there is a way to correct the disharmony I have

 

caused."

 

"Which of the ambassador's orders did you

 

misperceive?" "He instructed that I should explain

 

That-Which-Is to the commissioner so he might understand the

 

ways of our people. I was hasty in my judgment that I

 

could find no way in which to do this. It is now the command of

 

my master that I see if the Commissioner Montoya

 

would find it no loss of honor to forgive the error of

 

this unworthy servant and allow my ambassador

 

to explain the concepts I could not."

 

Norris bit into her toast and chewed slowly.

 

When she thought t'Stror had waited long enough, she

 

answered. "I can't promise anything until I

 

talk with Commissioner Montoya, but I believe he

 

will consider

 

reopening the discussions. If you will wait here,

 

I'll talk it over with him."

 

"I will be most impatient in anticipating a

 

response that will restore my good favor in the eyes

 

of my master."

 

"I'm on my way, then." Norris hurried

 

to her quarters and asked Montoya, Vreblin, and

 

Zayle to join her at once. The previous evening,

 

an annoyed Montoya had told his aides that

 

Kirk suspected there was a listening device in his

 

quarters. Norris was grateful for an excuse

 

to hold the meeting in her quarters-without Simons

 

lurking in the background. Within five minutes, the

 

three men had arrived. Montoya was last.

 

"What's this about?" he demanded as he came through the

 

door. Norris grinned, anticipating the effect

 

of her news. "I just talked with Speaker t'Stror

 

in the messroom. He asked if we would consider

 

reopening the discussions. He said he had misperceived

 

the ambassador's instructions, and had been

 

required to atone for his errors. He was ordered

 

to learn if you would forgive his error and allow

 

Ambassador Klee to explain the concepts

 

t'Stror was unable to get across."

 

"I think we can arrange that," Montoya said with

 

his first real smile since the Kaldorni delegation

 

had walked out of the briefing room. "However, we

 

don't want to appear too eager. What exactly

 

did t'Stror say?" Norris repeated the

 

conversation. As she finished, Montoya glanced at his

 

chronometer. "I think he's waited long enough.

 

Tell him we'll consent to meet with Ambassador

 

Klee in half an hour in the briefing room."

 

Montoya's triumphant smile widened, and his

 

eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. "Let's

 

see what we can get away with. Tell t'Stror

 

we will forgive his errors more quickly if he convinces the

 

ambassador to let us use our Universal

 

Translator. To minimize further misunderstandings,

 

of course."

 

"Of course." Norris chuckled with delight.

 

The Universal Translator was the perfect

 

concession to demand from the honor-conscious Kaldorni.

 

She left the three men planning their next move

 

while she delivered Montoya's

 

message.

 

Kirk leaned back in the chair, nursing his third

 

cup of coffee. Half his breakfast remained on the

 

plate. After spending the night sleeping at his

 

worktable, he felt tired and groggy and not the least

 

bit interested in food. It had been a relief

 

to escape for a quiet breakfast without the Kaldorni

 

women.

 

McCoy joined him as he refilled his cup for the

 

last time. "You really enjoyed seeing me get stuck

 

with all those women, didn't you, Bones?"

 

"I'm sorry, Jim. I just never thought of you as

 

the marrying type." Although he managed to keep his

 

expression neutral, McCoy's eyes twinkled

 

with amusement.

 

"And just what am I going to do with them now? If you

 

think there's room in my quarters for three wives,

 

you're sadly mistaken."

 

McCoy gave him a sympathetic smile.

 

Although the officers" cabins on the Enterprise were

 

large in comparison to those on a scout ship or cargo

 

vessel, McCoy could not imagine sharing his quarters

 

with three other people. And a commanding officer's need for

 

privacy in his off-duty time was even greater than a

 

doctor's. "I don't know what you're

 

going to do. I'm not a diplomat, remember. Why

 

don't you put Brady and Tenaida to work on it?

 

If they can't come up with something, you may have to resign

 

yourself to married life."

 

"Speaking of those two, I'm supposed to meet with

 

them shortly. I'd better get moving." Kirk

 

pushed himself to his feet, summoning the energy he

 

knew he would need today.

 

"Me, too. Stop by my office later if you

 

need some friendly advice." "Thanks, Bones. I

 

may take you up on that."

 

Shaking his head, McCoy watched the captain

 

leave. Kirk looked very tired. Diplomatic

 

missions were not his favorite, but this one, with its

 

additional problems, was weighing heavily on him. And

 

his Kaldorni "wives," McCoy suspected, were

 

not going to make the situation any easier.

 

Kirk, Brady, and Tenaida sat around the table

 

in the briefing room. The three of them seemed lost

 

in the large room, but until Kirk persuaded the

 

Kaldorni women to leave, his own cabin was too

 

crowded to work in. Kirk fiddled with his empty

 

coffee cup while Tenaida summarized the

 

detective work he had done the previous evening.

 

"So you think Simons is one of our

 

unauthorized computer programmers?" Kirk asked

 

when the Deltan finished talking.

 

"The probabilities are-was

 

Kirk shook his head and held up his hand. "It's

 

too early in the morning for that, Tenaida. I trust

 

your probabilities, so log them in the computer, and

 

tell me your conclusions." Kirk rubbed his gritty

 

eyes. He felt as though he hadn't slept in a

 

week, and he wondered idly if there was a

 

corollary to Special Relativity that required

 

time dilation effects to work selectively on

 

sleepless nights. "I could sure use another cup

 

of coffee now." "If you would prefer, we can

 

postpone this until you get some more-was "No, the

 

doctor would say I've had enough already. Continue with

 

your report."

 

"Though I can't be certain that it was Ms.

 

Simons who reprogrammed the vari-grav control

 

unit or added the subroutines to the Kaldorni's

 

food synthesis program, the skills required

 

are similar to those

 

needed to alter a person's history in computer

 

records. Therefore, the probabilities are that those

 

changes were made by Ms. Simons or by someone who

 

knows her well. She may have an

 

accomplice, although as yet I have no evidence

 

to prove such a person exists."

 

"No, you're wrong." Brady leaned forward, his

 

body taut with conviction. "Remember the message

 

added on to the commissioner's dispatch tape. That went

 

to someone, and Simons is the most likely suspect

 

for sending it." Tenaida's eyebrows drew together

 

into a solid line. "True. However, we don't

 

know who got the message, or what it contained. It

 

might be completely unrelated to these matters."

 

"Want to bet?" Brady's eyes were

 

uncharacteristically serious. "Have you made any

 

progress on decoding the message or determining

 

its destination?" Kirk asked.

 

"No." Tenaida frowned. "The coding

 

structure doesn't follow any standard pattern,

 

and the computer hasn't determined the basis for the

 

encryption schedule yet. The coordinates suggest

 

it was sent to a vessel located beyond our sensor

 

range."

 

"I knew you were going to say that," Kirk

 

grumbled. "It goes without saying that they don't

 

want us to know they're there."

 

"That is a safe assumption."

 

"If someone on the Enterprise is

 

transmitting to them-was Kirk's eyes widened with

 

sudden hope. "Could they be transmitting back?

 

Mr. Brady, have Communications check, will you?"

 

Brady nodded, but the intercom whistled before he could

 

say anything. Kirk reached for the control pad.

 

"Kirk here."

 

"Captain, Commissioner Montoya wanted you

 

to know that the Kaldomi have reopened the negotiations."

 

"Thank you, Uhura. Would you send Janara

 

Whitehorse down here immediately?" "Aye, aye,

 

Captain."

 

"Kirk out."

 

Brady's face wrinkled into a half-frown at

 

the captain's apparently irrelevant order.

 

Tenaida's face lit up with curiosity. Kirk

 

gave them little time to think about it. "With most of the

 

Kaldorni in one place, we'll try to find the

 

wolf in sheep's clothing."

 

"I beg your pardon, Captain?" Brady

 

asked.

 

"The spy."

 

"Shan Janara may not wish to search the

 

Kaldorni's minds," Tenaida said. "And you cannot

 

order her to conduct such an investigation without

 

violating the Federation Telepathic Rights

 

Statutes."

 

"I think Lieutenant Whitehorse will be

 

delighted to do it, when I explain things properly."

 

Kirk's mouth tightened with determination. Tenaida

 

frowned at the implied threat in Kirk's words. The

 

Deltan realized he still had much to learn about

 

humans. Quite apart from the difficulty of conducting such

 

a search without violating Federation law, Kirk's

 

proposal created a tricky maze of ethical

 

questions. The door buzzer interrupted Tenaida's

 

thoughts.

 

"Come," Kirk said. Janara entered the room.

 

"Lieutenant Whitehorse, I asked before if

 

you would help us identify the spy aboard the

 

Enterprise. his

 

Her body went rigid with suppressed emotion.

 

"Captain, I detest close contact with other people's

 

minds, and I protest your efforts to force me

 

to conduct this search."

 

"Lieutenant Whitehorse, I can

 

appreciate your feelings, but we're after the being who

 

killed Ensign Yendes. Do you really want to let

 

that thing continue to roam the Enterprise?"

 

Janara seemed to shrink into herself. The silence

 

stretched as she examined her

 

alternatives. "However,

 

your logic is inescapable, Captain. What would

 

you have me do?" "We think the spy is one of the

 

Kaldorni. The negotiations are about to resume, and

 

I want you to replace Yeoman Menon, who's

 

recording the sessions. From her station, you can examine

 

the Kaldorni and see if our spy is there."

 

"One of the Kaldorni?" The question was more curious

 

than surprised. "Yes. We think the spy is

 

hiding among the ambassador's party and using his

 

position as a cover for his activities."

 

"Her." Janara's voice was flat. "I

 

believe I know who the spy is." "What?"

 

"Captain, do you remember the problem Ms.

 

Norris was having with her translating computer?"

 

When Kirk nodded, Janara continued, "The machine

 

was consistently assigning a female voice to an

 

apparently male Kaldorni. At the time, Ms.

 

Norris and I decided the problem was caused by an

 

unknown peculiarity of Kaldorni biology.

 

However, on the basis of what you've just said, I

 

believe the one called t'Stror is the spy.

 

[*macr] "t'Stror? He's the

 

ambassador's right-hand man." Brady's voice

 

rose in disbelief.

 

"That could explain the trouble Commissioner Montoya

 

is having with the negotiations," Tenaida said.

 

"It could, at that." Kirk paused, evaluating the

 

new information. Unfortunately, it did not prove that

 

t'Stror was the person they wanted. "Lieutenant

 

Whitehorse, would you still report to the briefing

 

room? We need to be sure t'Stror is the spy

 

before we arrest him-I mean, her." Kirk shook his

 

head in frustration. "Whatever the correct gender,

 

would you confirm that t'Stror is the spy?"

 

Janara stared at the wall behind Kirk. The

 

briefing room was austere and impersonal. In

 

contrast to the

 

bland setting, Kirk's determination to achieve his

 

goals blazed like a supernova. Once Kirk had

 

decided her telepathic abilities could help him

 

and his crew, Janara realized, nothing she-or

 

anyone else-could say would deflect the captain from

 

his chosen course.

 

Even Federation law, Janara suspected, was an

 

annoyance for him to circumvent, if it interfered with his

 

ability to protect his crew. Janara shuddered at

 

the thought of deliberately contacting the alien presence

 

she had sensed aboard the Enterprise, but realized

 

circumstances made refusing Kirk's

 

request almost impossible. Even as she acknowledged

 

this, she knew she could not yield the principle that

 

justified her initial refusal. Bowing her head,

 

she said, "Under protest, Captain, I will do as you

 

ask." "Your objections are noted, Lieutenant

 

Whitehorse. And thank you." Janara accepted his

 

words with a tight-upped nod and left the room. "How

 

did you know she would agree?" Tenaida asked. "The

 

look on her face after Yendes was killed. I

 

figured another murder would be the more painful option for

 

her. I just had to state my case in those terms."

 

"Your analysis was correct, but I don't

 

understand how you reached your conclusion. Our people are

 

conditioned from birth to abhor intruding on another

 

being's privacy."

 

"I simply chose the only remaining logical

 

alternative to our problem," Kirk answered with a

 

slight grin that faded almost instantly. "Right now,

 

I've got a new problem I need some help with."

 

"Captain?"

 

"I think I'm married. The Kaldorni, on the

 

other hand, know I'm married. You two have to find me

 

a way out of it."

 

Brady opened his mouth, but the expression on

 

Kirk's face convinced him that not even

 

friendship

 

would save him if he wasn't careful. His jaw

 

snapped shut. Swallowing once, he tried for a

 

neutral tone. "You're married, Captain? How

 

did that happen?" "I'm not exactly sure, but-was

 

Kirk described the previous night's events,

 

trying to remember every detail, whether it seemed

 

important or not. "That's it. They're in my

 

quarters now, and I spent the night in the chair.

 

Damn uncomfortable place to sleep, too." He

 

rubbed the small of his back to ease the stiffened

 

muscles.

 

"Three of the Kaldorni ambassador's

 

wives?" Brady scratched his head, amazed. The

 

women had kept to their quarters since coming aboard,

 

and the ship's grapevine was rife with speculation over

 

their isolation. A puzzled look crossed

 

Brady's face as he tried to evaluate the

 

effect this development would have on their dealings with the

 

Kaldorni. "I didn't ask for any jokes,

 

Mr. Brady." Kirk realized he was

 

overreacting, but Brady's expression reminded him

 

of the third-rate comic whose act consisted of an hour's

 

repertoire of Starfleet jokes. "You've got

 

to get me out of this!"

 

"According to Federation law," Tenaida said, "a

 

marriage ceremony is legal and binding if the

 

participants accept it as such. By taking part m the

 

ritual, it is presumed that you accept its

 

validity."

 

"But, Tenaida, nobody told me it was a

 

marriage ceremony until it was over. Nobody in

 

the Federation even knew what their marriage ceremony

 

was, until they sprang this on me. There has

 

to be a way to get me out of this. I don't want

 

three wives! Besides, do you know how hot they've

 

got the temperature in my quarters? A Vulcan

 

might enjoy it, but another hour of it will kill me!"

 

"Captain, I am certain the environmental

 

controls cannot be set to lethal temperatures."

 

"Well, it feels like it. I'm depending on you

 

to find me a way out of it."

 

"Tenaida says it's legal, Captain.

 

Besides, have you considered the repercussions of telling the

 

ambassador you don't accept the validity of his

 

ceremony?"

 

"What if I stay married? He expects me

 

to treat them the way a normal Kaldorni husband

 

would. And I haven't a clue how to do that." "It is

 

a delicate problem in diplomacy,

 

sir." Tenaida canted his head to the side. "I will

 

research the legal and cultural ramifications and

 

see if I can find an answer to your dilemma."

 

Kirk sighed. "Thanks, Tenaida. Talk with

 

Kristiann Norris, while you're at it. She's

 

been studying the Kaldorni for Commissioner

 

Montoya, and maybe she can help."

 

"All right, Captain. I'll start immediately."

 

"Thanks, Tenaida. A lot." Kirk stood,

 

arching his back to loosen the cramped muscles.

 

"I'm getting that other cup of coffee now. Does

 

anyone want to join me?" B oth Brady and

 

Tenaida refused, insisting they had work to do.

 

Kirk played with his coffee cup, wishing he had

 

gotten more sleep. Even if McCoy let him

 

borrow his quarters, he doubted a nap would give

 

him any more rest. Besides, a captain should be an

 

example for his crew. Kirk sighed and drained his

 

cup.

 

"Oh, Jimmy, how nice to see you. Do you mind

 

if I join you?" Cecilia Simons stood at the

 

end of the table.

 

"I was heading for the bridge."

 

"I wanted to talk over old times with you. If

 

I didn't know better, Jimmy, I'd

 

think you were avoiding me."

 

Kirk forced himself to smile. "On a ship this

 

big, the commanding officer has many duties."

 

"Surely you must have some time for yourselfand me."

 

Kirk took a deep breath to calm himself, and

 

immediately regretted it. Her perfume was overpow-

 

ering, drowning him in its cloying fragrance. He

 

shook his head to clear it. "There's more to the captain's

 

job than you would think. Right now, I am very busy."

 

"Tell me what it's like to be a starship

 

captain, then. I'm dying to know everything you've been

 

doing."

 

"Not right now, Ms. Simons. I'm due on the

 

bridge." He stood, taking his cup to put in the

 

recycler on his way out.

 

"Jimmy, could you do me one little favor?" Her

 

voice was low and sultry, calculated to make any

 

man beg to please her. Kirk felt the hackles

 

rise along the back of his neck.

 

"What's the favor?" he asked, fighting against

 

her strange allure. How does she do it? he

 

wondered.

 

"I wanted to record some messages in my

 

free time." She gave him a diffident smile.

 

"I mean, since I can't visit with

 

Janie-was "Yes, continue." Kirk's voice was

 

cold.

 

"Anyway, I wanted to write some

 

messages-was She slid her food tray onto the

 

table and moved closer to him. Her hand caressed his

 

throat in rhythm with the thunder of his pulse. He

 

swallowed hard, uncomfortably aware of how close

 

to him she was standing. Then he remembered Tenaida's

 

instructions to be "as a rock in the rain." He

 

visualized himself as a stone, inert and unyielding, and

 

felt the pressure of Simons' sex appeal

 

lessen. "comand I couldn't get any of the computer

 

consoles to work for me. When I asked, everyone said

 

your science officer had cut off access to the computer,

 

and I'd have to get a security code from him." She

 

shrugged, acting bewildered. "He said he wasn't

 

authorized to give out codes to passengers."

 

"I'll talk to him about that," Kirk said.

 

"Jimmy, could you please give me the code? I

 

don't want to talk to him again. He scares me.

 

I'm afraid he'll do something to me."

 

Tenaida won't, but I may! Kirk shuddered

 

with the 194

 

force of his anger. He plucked her hand from his

 

shoulder. "Ms. Simons, I told you

 

I didn't want to hear any more of your

 

anti-Deltan remarks. As for your computer

 

access, I put Tenaida in charge of assigning the

 

codes, and you'll have to get yours from him. However,

 

I'll tell him to have it ready when you ask."

 

"Very well, Captain." Dismissing Kirk,

 

Simons threw herself into a chair and began eating her

 

breakfast. Her anger showed clearly in the tight

 

lines around her mouth. Kirk took one final

 

look, noticing the wrinkles around her eyes and how

 

she tried to disguise her age with makeup. When her

 

attention was focused elsewhere, it was difficult

 

to understand why she was so irresistible. He turned

 

away, eager to escape before she thought of anything

 

else she wanted from him.

 

Janara checked the indicators that reported the

 

status of the recording equipment in the briefing

 

room. Two units ran at all times, and a

 

backup recorder was ready, if needed, to replace

 

either of the primary units. She felt conspicuous, as

 

though she had no right to witness the negotiations. She

 

concentrated on the people seated around the table and tried

 

to suppress her revulsion for such telepathic

 

probing. To isolate the spy, she had to lower her

 

mental defenses, becoming vulnerable

 

to stray projections. Although she tried to focus on

 

the briefing room, Janara caught flashes of the

 

crawling sexual heat she associated with her mother's

 

attempts to suborn some hapless male. As it had

 

since childhood, exposure to her mother's tactics

 

induced a violent attack of nausea. With an

 

effort, she brought her stomach under control, fighting

 

her instinct to retreat into catatonia. She

 

rechecked the Kaldorni in the room, but t'Stror

 

was still absent. Janara wished he would return, so

 

she could determine if he was the

 

spy. None of the Kaldomi in the room had a

 

mental signature even close to that of the savage

 

predator she feared.

 

To control her agitation, Janara started some

 

calming exercises to keep her mind detached and

 

receptive. Once she reassembled her

 

defenses, Janara knew she could never force herself

 

to lower them enough to identify the alien. When the contact

 

came, she was unprepared for it. One moment, she was

 

checking the recording equipment and trying to ignore the

 

thoughts of a passing crewwoman. The next thing she

 

knew, the giant cat was inside her skull,

 

shredding her brain with its claws. Janara lashed out

 

in fear and pain. The mental projection

 

retreated in surprise, and Janara slammed her

 

shields into place. She envisioned a polished

 

metal wall encircling her mind, and the cat's

 

renewed attack bounced off without touching her. With

 

difficulty, she focused on the scene in the room.

 

While she was fighting off the telepathic attack,

 

t'Stror had entered and was now talking with the

 

ambassador. Janara opened a crevice in her

 

mental wall, probing for t'Stror's mind.

 

The second attack was as vicious as the first.

 

Janara reinforced her defenses, hoping they would

 

repel the assault. When the mental pressure

 

abated, she realized t'Stror was staring at her. The

 

hatred on his face matched the savagery of the

 

telepathic attack. Janara forced herself to look

 

away. Every muscle in her body was shaking.

 

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott grumbled

 

about the ship's incompetent dietitian as he

 

checked the information on his reader board against the

 

equipment displays. The waste recovery system could

 

not handle the discrepancies in Leftwell's

 

parameters for the Kaldomi food program. The

 

incorrect input settings had overloaded the trace

 

element processors, crashing the entire

 

subsystem. Scott was still muttering 196

 

about the abuse to his machinery when the room lights

 

brightened, then every indicator on the main panel went

 

red.

 

He hit the intercom switch. "What's

 

happening?" "There's a rupture in the fuel flow.

 

The magnetic field collapsed and the portside

 

engines dropped off line."

 

"On my way." The noteboard hit the counter and

 

bounced to the floor as Scott ran for the

 

turbolift. He skidded into the main control room

 

as the power levels dropped to zero.

 

"Emergency power!" He grabbed the edge of the

 

counter and hooked his foot under the top rung of the

 

ladder to anchor himself against the sudden loss of

 

gravity. While he slapped all the override

 

switches he could reach, Layne's hands flew over

 

the panel, cueing in the sequencing commands. The

 

gravity generators gave a stomach-twisting

 

pulse, then settled back to half power as the

 

system switched over to batteries. The intercom

 

sounded before they finished shifting to the backup systems.

 

"Scott!" Kirk yelled. "Why did you cut

 

power from the warp engines?" "We dinna do it,

 

Captain."

 

"Bridge monitors show the warp

 

engines were taken off line by someone in Engineering."

 

"I'll check, Captain. But I dinna

 

authorize it. Scott out."

 

"We thought you went to check the dilithium converter

 

assemblies. Dettner went to help you," Layne

 

said.

 

"Thank you. I'd better get down there."

 

Scott tripped over something at the base of the

 

ladder. He leaned down and turned the body over.

 

Even in the red glow from the emergency lighting system,

 

the deep gashes showed through the dark blood on

 

Dettner's face. Scott shouted up to Layne,

 

"Get a medical team. And Security, on the

 

double."

 

"What is it?"

 

"Someone's attacked Dettner. Probably

 

whoever

 

took out our engines. Get that security team!"

 

Scott looked around, searching for any sign of

 

unauthorized personnel. No one was in sight.

 

He shook his head, realizing anyone who knew enough

 

about the Enterprise to take the engines off line also

 

knew enough to do it from the maintenance section. "You're not

 

going after the intruder, are you?" Layne asked.

 

Next to the ladder was an equipment locker.

 

Scott took out the largest wrench he could find and

 

hefted it. "Aye, I am." The idea did not

 

make him happy. "We canna leave any

 

stranger with our power systems for any longer than we

 

must."

 

Scott crossed the engineering room, pausing

 

to check the dilithium assemblies. They were

 

untouched. Behind him, he could hear Layne sending for

 

assistance. He reached the maintenance section, but the

 

door was locked from the inside. Swearing to himself in

 

Gaelic, Scott removed the access panel and

 

entered the override code.

 

The door slid open, revealing a complicated

 

array of equipment, monitors, and subsystem

 

modules. The ship's functions were controlled

 

by panels in the main engineering room, but for the ship's

 

safety, every aspect of the engineering and life

 

support equipment could be independently monitored

 

and adjusted by equipment in the maintenance section. The

 

intruder was in the far corner of the room. A man of

 

Scott's height and build, wearing a blue-gray

 

Engineering uniform, hovered over the regulator

 

unit for the warp engines. The flickering indicator

 

lights threw sinister patterns across his cheeks.

 

Scott ran forward. The man looked up,

 

and Scott froze. The resemblance was so exact that

 

the engineer felt he was looking in a mirror.

 

The intruder yowled-a chilling sound more

 

appropriate to a Koorane nightstalker-and

 

charged. His fist caught the chief engineer in the

 

face. Scott l ost his balance and fell, hitting his

 

head against the edge 198

 

of a counter. The intruder turned, shoved home

 

several switches on the control panel, and ran for the

 

access hatch to the lower decks. The room spun

 

around Scott. He struggled to rise, but had only

 

reached an unsteady sitting po sition by the time the

 

security men and the first officer found him.

 

"Did you see the intruder?" Brady asked.

 

Scott felt the back of his head. His fingers

 

came away bloody from a small cut. "Aye.

 

I thought I was looking at myself," he said.

 

"What?"

 

"He looked more like me than my own twin

 

brother."

 

"How close did you get to him?"

 

Scott glanced at the blood on his fingers.

 

"Close enough."

 

Brady stared at Scotty, bewildered. Kirk

 

had seen the spy trying to impersonate him,

 

but they all had been convinced that the disguise would not

 

pass close inspection. How could the intruder have

 

fooled the chief engineer at such proximity? It

 

made no sense. The skills and equipment

 

required to produce such a perfect impersonation were

 

monumental. "Is this where you found him?"

 

"Aye, but I dinna ken how long he was in here

 

before we caught him. We'll have to check everything before

 

we know."

 

"Then do it, Mr. Scott. We have to find all

 

the tampering. The warp engines are down, and Commander

 

Sulu reported peculiar energy readings when he

 

tried to bring the impulse engines up to full power."

 

"I'll get started right away."

 

"You'll do no such thing, Scotty. At least, not

 

until I've checked you over." McCoy advanced

 

on Scott, his medical tricorder poised for

 

action. "Doctor, you heard what Commander Brady

 

said. Our power systems are out. I don't have time

 

to play games with you and your medical gadgets."

 

"I'll relieve you from duty, Mr. Scott.

 

I have the authority." "Do it after I get the warp

 

engines on line again." Scott pulled himself upright

 

and keyed a diagnostic sequence into the console.

 

McCoy ran the tricorder over the chief

 

engineer's body, checked the readings, and scowled.

 

"You've a nasty bump on your head, possibly a

 

concussion. But if you'll report to Sickbay when you

 

get the engines fixed-or if you experience any

 

dizziness-I won't drag you in now." "Thank you,

 

Doctor." Scott turned away, immersing himself

 

in the Enterprise's power systems. He was so busy

 

he did not even notice when McCoy left.

 

Brady followed the doctor to the door, his

 

expression tense with worry. "How serious is his

 

injury? Will it affect his work?" He kept his

 

voice low to prevent Scott from hearing his question.

 

"It shouldn't. He'll have a bad headache, and his

 

head will be sore for several days, but it's not as bad

 

as I told him." McCoy slung the tricorder

 

over his shoulder. "If it was, I'd haul him

 

into Sickbay in spite of the engines."

 

"Thank you, Doctor. If you'll excuse me,

 

I'll go help him." Brady retraced his steps,

 

his silhouette outlined by the multicolored

 

indicator lights on the control consoles.

 

McCoy gave the blinking panels a final look

 

and headed for Sickbay. Dettner needed surgery

 

to repair the deep slashes on his face.

 

Srrawll Ktenten prowled the quarters

 

assigned to her alterbody, t'Stror. She flexed

 

her fingers, feeling the thickened nails, and fought the

 

instinct to transform into something more able to eliminate

 

danger. The predatory forms of her homeworld were

 

worse than useless. No one would mistake a

 

savage, catlike phena or a powerful,

 

wolflike talbera for one of the Enterprise's

 

regular crew.

 

She snarled under her breath. Her own carelessness

 

had cost her a flawless cover. She should never have

 

believed the Simons vrith'k when she said her

 

Deltan cub was harmless. Ever since boarding the

 

Enterprise, Srrawll had felt the mind-hunter

 

pulling in her thoughts. Though Srrawll was not, in the

 

strictest sense of the word, telepathic, her race

 

had evolved on a world populated by telepathic

 

predators. Survival depended on detecting an

 

attacker's use of telepathy.

 

Srrawll threw herself at the bed and curled up in

 

a ball. To save herself and prevent the aliens from

 

stealing her homeworld, her next move must be planned

 

and executed meticulously. She closed her

 

eyes, surrendering to a vision of a mature kenda

 

tree with a comfortable nest in the hollow of a forked

 

branch. The air was warm and scented with

 

summer flowers-and there was nothing larger than a frightened

 

karra within a long run in any direction. After a

 

few moments, she leaped off the bed. Such homesick

 

self-indulgence would not repel the invaders nor would

 

it solve her immediate problem. She must control herself,

 

must examine her options and plan carefully. The

 

safety of her world depended on her, and she could not

 

afford another mistake.

 

Kirk was outside the briefing room door when the

 

negotiations recessed for lunch. He waited for

 

Ambassador Klee to come through the door. "May

 

I have a word with you, Mr. Ambassador?"

 

Klee dismissed his aides and gestured for his

 

honor guard to follow him at a distance. "I am

 

going to have my luncheon repast with the women who are my

 

wives. Offense is not intended when I ask you

 

to talk as I go to my quarters."

 

"None taken." They began walking slowly down

 

the corridor. Kirk adjusted his strides to match

 

Klee's pace.

 

"Are your new wives a pleasure in the hours that

 

you spend with them? I have tried to train them always

 

to delight the wishes of their husband." "Mr.

 

Ambassador, that's what I wanted to talk to you

 

about. I don't feel right taking your

 

wives from you."

 

"But it is correct that you should have them, honored

 

Captain. Your esteemed servant was able to heal them

 

after the rituals of our people had failed. It is

 

proper that they should belong to the man who is able

 

to protect them." Kirk shook his head. "You are

 

guests on my ship. It's my duty to care for

 

everyone aboard. No special thanks are needed."

 

"It is also a matter of my honor that I cannot

 

remain married to those I cannot protect. I have no

 

honor if I do not permit these women to dwell with the

 

man who can provide for them what I cannot."

 

"That's the point, Mr. Ambassador. I'm a

 

ship's captain. All I have is my Starfleet

 

salary and a few personal possessions. There's

 

barely enough room for me in my quarters, let alone

 

three other people. I don't have any way

 

to accommodate your wives properly."

 

"Most respected Captain, the women we are

 

discussing are now your wives. It is not proper that you

 

should diminish their honor by calling attention to their

 

previous, unworthy husband. However, as captain,

 

do you not have the ability to command anything you desire?

 

Certainly, you should be able to order for your wives the

 

living space they require."

 

"Uh, right," Kirk stammered, taken aback by the

 

ambassador's immovable certainty and utterly

 

unsure how to get around it. The conversation was not going

 

at all as he had planned. He was still looking for a

 

new way to phrase his objections when they reached

 

Klee's quarters. "If the honored captain will

 

excuse me, I must now

 

attend upon my wives." The ambassador bowed

 

slightly and extended his arm in farewell. Kirk

 

did his best to repeat the gesture as Klee

 

disappeared into his cabin. How, Kirk wondered, was

 

he ever going to persuade the Kaldorni to take

 

back his wives? His arguments were useless against

 

Klee's talk of honor and obligations.

 

"All right, Tenaida-explain how the intruder

 

got into the computers this time." Kirk heard the edge in

 

his voice and realized his frustration from the interview with

 

Klee was spilling over into this discussion. The

 

Deltan dropped a plastic disk onto the table.

 

Kirk frowned. The Engineering access key carried

 

the operating codes for the computer-controlled stations in the

 

Engineering section. Anyone with that key could

 

completely disable the Enterprise.

 

"The intruder attacked Lieutenant Dettner

 

and used his key to get into the Engineering

 

control system. When I designed the new

 

security program, I didn't consider stolen

 

access keys."

 

"Or that the spy would know enough to steal one."

 

"True. Until this action, the intruder hadn't

 

shown such detailed knowledge of the ship's operations."

 

"Maybe someone told him. Or maybe he hid

 

out in Engineering long enough to pick it up. The question is

 

how bad was the damage, and how do we keep him from

 

doing it again?"

 

"I've assigned passwords to restrict the

 

access keys. I also designated codes for the

 

medical department's keys, although it would be more

 

difficult to disrupt the ship with the programs

 

controlled through the medical keys." "And how bad was

 

the damage this time?" Kirk asked. Tenaida

 

called up Brady's damage report on his

 

screen. "The initial power surge overloaded the

 

warp drive regulator units and fused half the

 

control circuitry. Commander Scott is still

 

assessing the minor 203

 

problems. He'll log those and report

 

progress of the repairs on the computer later."

 

"In other words, Scotty said, "Don't

 

bother me, I'm fixing my engines.""

 

Kirk gave Tenaida a strained, lopsided grin.

 

"How long will the repairs take?"

 

"Mr. Scott estimates he will need twenty

 

hours to replace the control circuits. And another

 

ten to bring the system up to operational

 

specifications."

 

"Thirty hours?" Until the repairs were

 

completed, the Enterprise was helpless-a sitting

 

duck for any threat that came along. "Did you get

 

all the intruder's programming out of the control

 

systems?" "I don't know, Captain. I disabled

 

the segments I found, but Commander Brady and I should

 

examine all the programming in the Engineering control

 

sys- tems."

 

Tenaida hesitated uncharacteristically for a moment.

 

"And, Captain-there's something else I think you should

 

know."

 

"Yes?"

 

The Deltan twisted the stylus in his hand,

 

fidgeting from nervous tension. "Word has spread

 

among the crew that the three Kaldorni women are

 

staying in your quarters. I have heard-jokes-about it.

 

Captain, it is not good for your image to have them there."

 

"Don't tell me about it! I thought I'd given

 

that problem to you to solve. Haven't you or

 

Commander Brady come up with anything to get me out of the

 

marriage yet?"

 

"I regret that we have not yet formulated a viable

 

plan."

 

"Well, if you get any ideas, let me know

 

immediately!" The intercom whistled. The captain tapped

 

the pad. "Kirk here." "Captain, someone just found

 

a body on the shuttle deck. It's one of the

 

Kaldorni."

 

"On my way. Kirk out."

 

Kirk thought the turbolift would never reach the

 

 

hangar deck. He sprinted toward the crowd

 

gathered behind the box-shaped shuttle and saw that the

 

body was sprawled on the deck, tangled in the

 

brightly colored and highly decorated Kaldorni

 

robes. The clothing was nearly intact, but the limbs

 

and facial features had been burned past any

 

hope of identification. In spite of the ventilation

 

system, the stench of the charred flesh hung in the air.

 

Kirk felt his stomach heave with revulsion. He

 

forced himself to look away from the body. On the deck

 

half a meter away, a carrying pouch had spilled

 

its contents on the floor. Among the items,

 

Kirk saw an identity disc.

 

"Whose is that?" Kirk pointed to the plastic

 

counter. Security Chief Chekov stepped around the

 

body, picked up the disc, and handed it to the

 

crewwoman who was recording the scene. She

 

slipped the disc into her tricorder. "Identity

 

disc belongs to k'Vlay t'Stror, of

 

Ambassador Klee's staff, from the United

 

Worlds of the Kaldorni Systems." "What?"

 

Kirk seized the tricorder to verify the

 

identification. The disc was t'Stror's.

 

McCoy worked his way over to Kirk. "What is

 

it, Captain?" Kirk pointed to the body.

 

"Autopsy that as soon as Security is through. I

 

need to know the cause of death and what burned the face

 

and extremities like that. Also, compare the

 

physiological parameters with the identity disc we

 

found."

 

McCoy glanced at the body, grimaced, and

 

looked awa . "Is there anything else you want,

 

while I'm performing miracles?" Kirk shook his

 

head. "We thought we'd found our spy. But the

 

identity disc says that's him on the floor."

 

"I'll get on it right away." McCoy

 

looked at the security chief, his eyebrow raised.

 

When Chekov nodded permission, McCoy

 

gestured to his assistants to load the body onto

 

a stretcher.

 

Kirk followed McCoy out the door. Tenaida

 

fell in step with him. "Have you identified the

 

intruder?" the Deltan asked. "Lieutenant

 

Whitehorse spent the morning in the briefing room.

 

She said that her predatory alien was Speaker

 

t'Stror."

 

"It appears that Speaker t'Stror is dead."

 

"Or we're supposed to believe he's dead.

 

McCoy will find out the truth." "I don't follow

 

your reasoning."

 

Kirk felt the weight of his

 

responsibilities drag on him. As captain,

 

his decisions affected the lives of everyone on his

 

ship. And once again, the spy had outmaneuvered him.

 

He scowled in frustration. "Murder is rarely

 

logical, Tenaida. But I'll bet the intruder

 

thought we were getting too close, and decided

 

to change identities by "murdering" himself. What

 

I haven't figured out is how he's going to pull

 

off the masquerade." Tenaida was silent until

 

they reached Engineering. From the way the young Deltan's

 

eyebrows were twitching, Kirk knew he had given

 

Tenaida a lot to consider.

 

Montoya was talking when Kirk entered the

 

briefing room. He waited until the commissioner

 

noticed him. "Captain Kirk, can we do something for

 

you?" "I have a message for Ambassador Klee.

 

I regret it's not a pleasant one." "You will

 

speak to me this message that you have," said the aide

 

seated at the ambassador's left. Kirk could not

 

remember the man's name. "I function

 

temporarily as mouthpiece while the Speaker

 

t'Stror meditates upon the imbalance of his

 

overzealousness."

 

"My message is that one of your party has been

 

murdered. The identity disc with the body belonged

 

to Speaker t'Stror. May I extend my deepest

 

sympa- 206

 

thies to the ambassador and the rest of your party on

 

the loss of your companion?"

 

Kirk's words sparked an extended discussion in

 

clipped, guttural Kaldorni. Two of

 

Klee's aides appeared to be offering

 

contradictory advice. When they had finished

 

arguing, Klee turned to Kirk. "There will, of

 

course, be reparations."

 

"I beg your pardon?"

 

"It is said that the captain is

 

responsible for all that occurs upon his ship. Therefore,

 

it is the carelessness of the captain that has caused the

 

loss of this valuable servant. As a man of

 

honor, the estimable Captain Kirk will wish

 

to give to us the life of one of his servants who is

 

equally valuable."

 

"Servants?" Kirk shook his head. "I

 

don't own the life of anyone on this ship. I cannot

 

do as you request."

 

"We do not request this, and all we see obey

 

your commands as master. We have observed the way of your

 

ordering your servants and the value of the duties that they

 

supply you. It is our opinion that there is one

 

among your servants who is seen by us to be of greatest

 

value. The insult to our people may be appeased by the

 

life of the one you call Tenaida."

 

"His life is not mine to give. He is a

 

free man."

 

"This cannot be. Free men give orders, not receive

 

them. Until reparations are made, we cannot continue

 

in conference with these others from your people. When your honor

 

is restored, we will talk again." The Kaldorni

 

marched from the room.

 

Kirk dropped into a chair. "How did I put

 

my foot in it this time? I'll never understand

 

those people."

 

"Captain, would you tell us about the murder?"

 

Norris smiled at Kirk. "Please?"

 

He rubbed his forehead, trying to make sense of the

 

chaotic situation. "You people are the experts on the

 

Kaldorni. Maybe you can help figure this out."

 

Two hours later, Kirk felt qualified as an

 

authority on the Kaldorni and on Kaldorni

 

psychology. However, 207

 

he still did not understand the Kaldorni interpretation

 

of the Enterprise's command structure that had led them

 

to choose the Deltan Science Officer-in-

 

Training as the ship's most valuable officer. Nor

 

did he know how to convince Ambassador Klee that

 

he had no power to surrender Tenaida as a

 

compensatory payment for the death of Speaker t'Stror.

 

"ALL RIGHT, BoNE'S, what did you come

 

up with?" Frowning, Kirk closed the door

 

to McCoy's office. He turned a visitor's

 

chair to face the doctor and slid into it.

 

Seeing the expression on Kirk's face,

 

McCoy realized something must have happened since

 

Security found the body. "You look like you've got

 

another problem, Admiral."

 

"You can say that again! On top of everything

 

else, the Kaldorni are demanding Tenaida's

 

life as reparations for t'Stror's murder." "Would

 

it help if it wasn't t'Stror?" McCoy

 

looked smug, pleased with the results of his foray

 

into forensic medicine. Kirk stared at McCoy,

 

scarcely believing he'd guessed right. "You're

 

sure?"

 

McCoy gave an emphatic nod. "The body

 

isn't t'Stror's. The blood type, the antigen

 

matches, even the body mass is wrong. The

 

murderer tried to destroy all the identifiable

 

features, but every test I can run on what's left

 

proves it isn't t'Stror."

 

"Then who is it?"

 

"A Kaldorni. I don't know which one."