"Strange," the first officer of the Enterprise mused aloud, "how the past sometimes breaks through into the present. A war a billion years old could have sparked a new conflict between the Federation and the Kzinti." He turned to face his companions.
"I think it's time for us to leave. The weapon is now history, along with the Slaver Empire. We have a conference to attend. But while we don't have the weapon, Lieutenant Sulu, at least we have something that might grace your imagined museum."
He gestured nearby. The stasis box that had contained the Slaver weapon rested near one half of a tilted table in the room. The other half of the table and the Kzinti's own empty stasis box had lain within the self-destruct disruptor field and had vanished.
"The box isn't much," Spock observed, "but even though empty it will excite those who see it. They can fill it with their imaginations."
Uhura nodded, leaned over the table's remains and tucked the box which had caused them so much time and trouble loosely under one arm. Devoid of its contents, it was only an ordinary metal container. An ordinary metal container over a billion years old.
Moving carefully downward, they made their way out of the hulk of the Traitor's Claw. They skirted the slick rim of the pit, a technological rabbit hole down which had vanished the belligerent dreams of Kzin. Once more on solid ground, they made their way steadily toward the Copernicus and a distant rendezvous with their ship, their friends, and a new race to whom the Slaver Empire was more tall tale than truth . . .
XI
The commander of Starbase 25 greeted them personally when the Enterprise had finished docking procedure. "Jarrod Shulda, Captain Kirk," the deceptively ordinary-looking man introduced himself. The two shook hands, turned and stared down the extended docking tube leading into the body of the station.
"We know what your mission is, Captain," Shulda said volubly, "and we've been preparing for your arrival." He checked a wrist chronometer and smiled. "Glad you made it on time."
"Was there any reason to assume we wouldn't?" Kirk wondered aloud as they turned down a corridor.
Scott and M'ress accompanied him. The Caitian communications officer appeared unaffected by her recent unfortunate experience. Soon after the pheraligen had taken effect, she and M'viore and R'leez had resumed their normal duties and shifts. Their mental readjustment was helped by Dr. McCoy's instructions to all personnel to extend sympathy and understanding to their three temporarily deranged shipmates, while mentioning any actual incidents or encounters as little as possible. The order was complied with, even by the security personnel whom the three berserk Caitians had put in Sick Bay.
"No offense, Captain. I wasn't impugning your vessel's efficiency. I'm glad you arrived on time because it will take some of the pressure off us, here at the base." Shulda tried to add some humor to a vitally important, serious situation. "Starfleet Command's mighty nervous about this whole Briamos business. They've been talking our ears off here, asking for confirmation of your arrival. I'm happy I can finally send that. Frankly, Captain, you could have arrived here the day after you received your orders and I suspect we still would have had half a dozen worried inquiries from anxious bureaucrats concerned over your slow pace."
"Well, we're here now," Kirk said easily. They were entering a small conference room and the captain added softly, "Most of us, anyhow."
Now who was worrying needlessly? He was no better than those back at Command, continually thinking about the unknown progress of the three officers on board the shuttlecraft Copernicus. Resolutely, he shut all thoughts of Spock, Sulu, and Uhura from his mind.
It was an effort.
A florid, plump little woman with oriental features and the air of a society matron was standing next to a small podium going over a handful of notes when they entered. She turned, saw them, and scurried crablike across the floor to greet them. All her movements were quick, her gestures expansive as a courting blue jay, voice brisk and prying.
"Captain Kirk." She extended a smooth palm, thimble-thick fingers extended. "I'm Chu Leiski, sociologist by trade, diplomatic adviser by necessity."
"So you're the resident expert on our friends-to-be, the Briamosites?" Scott was eyeing the woman uncertainly.
"Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott," supplied Kirk, "my acting second-in-command, and Lieuteant M'ress, acting communications chief."
"My, my, Captain, but to a stranger you'd seem to be running a thespianic enterprise. But as they say, all the universe is a stage. Please take some seats, any you like, and we'll get started. I'm please to meet you all. We've a great deal to brief you on."
A little breathless with trying to keep up, Kirk slid slowly into one of the chairs in the conference room. Sociologist Leiski moved to stand behind the podium. She put down her notes and activated the electronic readout set into the podium top.
"None of the information I'm going to impart to you is critical by and of itself, but I've included everything we know on the Briamosites. No telling, no telling when during the conference some obscure chunk of information will become crucial. The Briamosites are a very thorough people, and they admire that thoroughness in others. So that's how these briefings will run—thorough in execution and thorough in content. You have to explore a whole pool in order to find the school of minnows, sometimes."
Shutting out the homilies, Kirk asked, "Just how big is that pool? How much have we been able to learn about the Briamosites, Chu Leiski?"
"Not a great deal, Captain. Certainly not as much as we'd like to before you have to go off to this conference. That's why," and she smiled at Scott, "despite your chief engineer's compliment, I can't pass myself off as the resident expert on the Briamosites. There are no experts on Briamos and its people."
She leaned both elbows on the podium. "In fact, we're hoping that you and those of your crew who attend or participate in the conference will learn all they can, so they can come back here and lecture me—and all the other so-called experts." Quite suddenly, she dropped her chatty, informal manner and exchanged it for that of the dignified instructor.
Moving to a large screen, she touched a control. The screen lit up, but no pictures or words appeared on it yet. "My connection with the Briamosites comes from the fact that I was an assistant to Ambassador Laiguer. I was half observer, half adviser to him on personal Briamosite interactions. That was my specialty."
"Since you served as the ambassador's assistant and have spent more time among them than any of us, why aren't you coming with us to the conference?" Scott wanted to know.
She smiled again, briefly. "I'm not an official diplomat, nor a member of Starfleet. Just a civilian technician. I have no diplomatic credentials to present to Briamos. As I said, the Briamosites are a very thorough folk. They're as thorough about protocol as anything else. My presence in the official negotiating party would be considered insulting."
"You don't have to be part of the actual negotiating group." Scott could be persistent. "Why dinna ye just come along to give us on-the-spot information?"
"I have to stay here, much as I'd like to go," Leiski told him. "I've been assigned to relay all information on the progress of the conference from here, as it arrives from Briamos and the Enterprise back here to Starbase Twenty-Five. I'm to provide my own comments and analysis to accompany your reports, and in turn I'm to convey back to you any suggestions or orders they might come up with." She ruffled her notes.
"I told them I could comment, albeit a little slower, from Briamos via deep-space beam, but it apparently was considered vital in certain circles to have a knowledgeable intermediary between Starfleet Command and Briamos while the conference was taking place. That's me. Besides," she added convincingly, "in a few days you'll all know as much about the Briamosites as I do."
The lectures proceeded smoothly. Despite her pose of self-deprecation when it came to her professional accomplishments, Chu Leiski proved an adept and efficient teacher. Occasionally Kirk brought other personnel along, from Sciences, or Communicat
ions, or other departments, as Leiski's subject matter shifted to bear particularly on one section's specialty. But as the days passed with no communication from the Copernicus, Kirk found his attention wandering when it should have been fixed on this or that aspect of Briamosite culture.
Finally, after the last lecture, questions were put to Chu Leiski by Kirk and other officers. She replied with answers and questions of her own.
As the room was emptying, Leiski drew Kirk aside. "I know you'll do the Federation proud, Captain. I wish I were going with you."
"Obviously Starfleet thinks you're more important to them here," Kirk told her. "I know you'd like to be part of the conference, and you will be, an integral part. You just won't be there in body."
"Oh, it's not that, Captain." Leiski was cleaning the nails of her left hand with a nail on the right and she didn't look up at him. "I hope the conference is a success, naturally, but I don't especially care if I'm a part of it. I just like Briamos and its people, that's all, and I want to make sure I have the chance to go back." She looked up now, smiled fitfully. "Do well, Captain Kirk, so I can go back?" She turned and left.
Alone in the room, Kirk felt confident for the first time. No matter how temperamental and difficult professional diplomats such as Ambassador Laiguer found the Briamosites, they had to be a people worth knowing if they could inspire such affection and interest in a woman like Chu Leiski . . .
Kirk was resting in the command chair, brooding silently. He and McCoy had been discussing items of no particular importance—a rare luxury for them both—when Kirk suddenly said, "You realize, Bones, that if they're not here by fourteen hundred tomorrow we'll have to leave without them. We can't delay departure."
"I know, Jim. I'm sure Spock, Sulu, and Uhura know it too, wherever they are."
Kirk turned, stared at the blank viewscreen. His hand tightened slightly on the arm of the command chair, but only McCoy noticed.
They should have reported in by now!
M'ress was already at her post when Kirk entered the bridge the following morning. He glanced over at her, framed a wordless question. She shook her head slowly. The message he had hoped for had not arrived.
Almost, he asked for something she could not give. Then his lips tightened and he took his seat half angrily. "Mr. Arex, Mr. Vedama, prepare for Briamos departure."
"But, Captain," Vedama began, "can't we—?"
"The one thing we can't do, Lieutenant, is be late for that conference. We depart at fourteen hundred. I won't risk traveling at maximum velocity and the chance of an engine malfunction delaying our scheduled arrival, in order to wait any longer. You know the Briamosites' fanatic attitude toward punctuality. You attended many of the lectures yourself."
"Yes, sir. I did." Discouraged, Vedama turned away.
Arex commenced programming their course, frowned his odd Edoan frown, and called back over a shoulder, "Captain Kirk?"
"Yes, what is it?"
"Captain, our detectors show an unidentified shuttlecraft coming in."
"Check with starbase communications, M'ress," Kirk ordered quickly, hardly daring to believe.
"Yes, sirr." A pause, then she said excitedly, "They arre not expecting any shuttles, sirr. And none of theirr own arre out."
"We're too far from any well-populated worlds for easy shuttle transportation," Kirk mused.
"Call coming in, sirr," the Caitian communications officer announced. She added without waiting for an order, "Acknowledging incoming signal."
This one time, Kirk did not reprimand her.
"Shuttlecraft Copernicus to Enterprise." Spock's lean, relaxed tones gave no hint of anything amiss on board the overdue shuttle. "Request docking."
"M'ress, put me through." He waited while she nudged the necessary controls and then he spoke into the chair pickup. "Spock, this is Kirk here."
"Hello, Captain."
Kirk waited, until it was evident his first officer didn't intend to expand on his greeting, " 'Hello, Captain'? Is that all you have to say, Mr. Spock? You're three days overdue." He tried to sound accusing, but came out appearing worried. "What happened to you in Gruyakin?"
"We had to cope with the fact that the stasis box had been stolen prior to our arrival, Captain."
"Stolen?" Kirk twitched violently.
"Yes, Captain," came Spock's confirmation, calm as ever. "We recovered it only after the stasis box had placed the would-be thief in a stasis field of his own."
"Stasis field of his own?"
"That's correct, Captain. However, that was a minor problem, compared to the trouble the Kzinti caused us."
"Kzinti? Kzinti!"
"It is not like you to respond to every statement with a questioning echo, Captain." The first officer sounded mildly reproving without being outright insubordinate.
"It's not like anyone, Mr. Spock, to go after a stasis box, and then have it stolen, and then run into—" He stopped, took a deep breath. "Mr. Spock, I will expect to see you in my cabin as soon as you've docked and gotten yourselves squared away—and bring that stasis box." A sudden thought moved him to ask quickly, "Lieutenants Sulu and Uhura are all right?"
"Yes, sir," "Yes, Captain," came the almost simultaneous replies from both officers.
"Good. You can both report to me along with Mr. Spock. Maybe the three of you together can come up with one sensible explanation for your delay."
"I'm sure you'll find both the stasis box and our explanation equally intriguing, Captain," Spock assured him.
As usual, Spock understated Kirk's reaction. All four sat in his cabin. Spock was concluding their story. He had related it all, without pausing. Kirk simply sat at his desk, shaking his head in response to one part of the tale, nodding at another, staring in disbelief at still a third. The first officer did most of the talking, while Sulu and Uhura occasionally broke in to provide emotional coloration of their own. The stasis box rested on a table between them.
"And that is how the box has come to be here empty, Captain," Spock finished.
Kirk stared at the metal cube for a long moment. "My congratulations to all of you. Merely being here is proof of how well you carried out your assignment."
"I beg to differ with you, Captain," said Spock. "We lost the contents of the box, the Slaver weapon."
"That was unavoidable, Mr. Spock. While we don't have it, more importantly neither do the Kzinti. Furthermore, the Federation still has the three of you." He studied the box. Its silvery surface shone metallically in the cabin light. "There ought to be something we can—" He broke off, and a slightly mischievous, slightly satanic grin appeared on his face.
"We'll take it to the conference," he announced. "Mr. Spock, you and Chief Engineer Scott can rig a small device to place inside for generating an imitation Slaver field. The box itself," he went on, leaning forward, "is every bit as impressive as any discovered. With an aura surrounding it, no one would know it's been opened. No need to tell the Briamosites, or the Klingons, and I don't think any of them will rush to open it manually, in front of all the others."
"That would be deceitful, Captain," Spock observed disapprovingly.
"Diplomatic, Mr. Spock, simply diplomatic. Remember, the Briamosites will choose between the Klingons and the Federation. I am not going to stick to Marquis of Queensberry rules when something as vital as an interstellar alliance with a race as important as the Briamosites is at stake. And especially not when the matter also involves Klingons."
"Pardon, Captain . . . Marquis of Queensberry rules?" Spock asked.
"They have to do with boxing, Mr. Spock," Sulu informed him.
"Oh yes, boxing. One of the ancient barbarous human martial arts." Sulu bridled and Spock hastened to add, "No offense, Mr. Sulu. I was referring only to the primitive, unrefined techniques of human warfare, not to fencing or the more sophisticated forms of self-defense."
Sulu looked uncertain, but relaxed.
" 'Barbarous' is the right word when negotiating with Klingons, Spock.
" Kirk had turned grim. "You know the Klingon watch phrase when it comes to diplomacy: 'That which is expedient rather than that which is truthful.' So we'll bend the truth a little bit ourselves. We may not actually have to lie. If no one asks us whether the stasis box has been opened, I see no reason to volunteer the information that it has."
"You are rationalizing, Captain." Spock refused to be argued out of his stance. "But considering the importance of the conference, I find, reluctantly, that I must concur with your methodology. We must show ourselves as adaptable as the Klingons."
The Enterprise was well on its way to Briamos from Starbase 25 and approaching the limits of Federation territory, when an unexpected buffeting struck the ship. One moment they were cruising along easily—the next, the ship was shuddering as if afflicted with metallic pneumonia. As suddenly as the disturbance began, it stopped.
"Now what could have caused that?" Kirk wondered, then added more loudly, "Lieutenant Uhura, damage report."
"All stations all decks report no damage and secure, Captain," she reported in a few minutes. "Several sections want to know what happened."
"So do I. Mr. Spock?"
The first officer was bent over his readouts, then looked up. "I am not certain, Captain. It could have been caused by any of several phenomena, external or internal." He touched a control. "Engineering, Mr. Spock here."
"Aye, Mr. Spock," replied Chief Engineer Scott. "What the devil was that?"
"You do not know, Commander?" Spock asked.
"No sir. I was hopin' you'd be able to tell me."
"I am attempting to find out by eliminating possibilities, Commander. Bridge out." Spock made several more fast checks, looked back at Kirk.
"It would appear to be an external problem, Captain." Spock appeared to hesitate. "As far as outside causes—"
Star Trek - Log 10 Page 16
