Star Trek - Log 10

by Alan Dean Foster

  Calmly, he replied, "The Enterprise represents the finest class of ships in current Starfleet operation, Colonel-Greeter Pliver. I assure you that our damage is as genuine as it was unwished. You may have the opportunity of inspecting it yourself, if you desire."

  "Perhaps sometime during the conference," Pliver responded pleasantly, having tried Kirk and not found him wanting.

  McCoy leaned close, was careful to keep his voice below pickup range. "They're a handsome people, Jim, if this one's any indication. And sharp operators." He turned, strolled casually toward the science station as Pliver, with an excuse, begged a moment's pause. No doubt to report the results thus far to his superiors.

  "Five warships to protect us from the Klingons, eh? Mighty solicitous of our health, wouldn't you say, Spock?"

  "I detect a familiar note of sarcasm in your tone, Doctor," the first officer replied. "The Briamosites, in preparing to ally themselves and their future with either the Federation or Klingon, are only exhibiting a cautionary xenophobia natural in such a situation. Clearly the presence of these warships is designed to insure that we do nothing unpleasant, should the conference not proceed in our favor. We would not, of course, but the Briamosites cannot be sure of that in their own minds. I am certain a similar escort surrounds the Klingon ship.

  "While they do not possess warp-drive technology, from the appearance of their vessels and from Commander Scott's engineering analysis I would estimate they have ample firepower to blast any unruly visitor from their skies, be it Federation cruiser, Klingon, or both.

  "Also, the presence of the warships constitutes an important show of force for Briamos. They naturally wish to impress us with their power and potential so that we will make our most generous offers of alliance and they will be able to obtain the best for their systems." Spock paused a moment, added, "I believe the presence of the five ships is best described by an ancient human saying once employed by the primitive tribes called nations. 'Showing the totem,' I think it was." There was a touch of disgust in the Vulcan's voice.

  " 'Showing the flag,' " McCoy corrected him. "What's the matter, Spock? Didn't individual tribes on Vulcan ever show the flag?"

  "Perhaps far in our past we did, Doctor," Spock conceded. "However, we disposed of our ritualistic slogans and totems much earlier in our racial history than humanity did."

  Pliver returned to the viewscreen. "Your orbital coordinates are as follows, Captain. They have been transcribed for your own instrumentation systemology. You see, we have done our homework, too."

  As always, there was no evident movement of the mouth beyond the minimum necessary to form the requisite words. But Kirk was beginning to relate certain significant hand and ear motions to what he had learned during the series of lectures at Starbase 25, and if he was interpreting them correctly now, it meant that Pliver had, in addition to his sleek diplomatic style, a well-developed sense of humor.

  "I'm sure you have," Kirk complimented him. "We've heard a great deal about your energy and abilities." That ought to earn the Federation a diplomatic point or two, he thought. "Mr. Sulu, stand by to receive coordinates."

  "Standing ready for input, sir. Standing by, Colonel-Greeter."

  Pliver looked pleased and a little startled at being so acknowledged. His expression didn't alter, but he read the coordinates with a definite flourish. "These will place your ship in close proximity to the Klingon vessel, Captain."

  "Just a minute," Kirk said hastily. "If we may have any preference as to orbital location—"

  "It is preferred," Pliver broke in smoothly but firmly, "that the vessels carrying both ambassadorial staffs remain in the same area. This will simplify," he added reassuringly with a friendly wag of batlike ears, "communications and transfer of personnel from both ships to the place-of-conference. That is located in a small resort community a modest distance from our capital city. It is on the seacoast, which is a region I am told you should find pleasant. The climate may be somewhat warm for you, but not unduly so. It was determined at high levels that it would be best to hold the conference in one of our most desirable, exclusive recreational areas as opposed to a stuffy, formal official structure in some city crowded. Landing coordinates for shuttle or transporter will be provided shortly. Until then, Captain Kirk, a pleasant forward looking-to."

  Pliver switched off. Kirk couldn't be sure whether that last twist of ears indicated expectation or downright friendship, but either would be a sign that this first contact had concluded successfully.

  "End transmission, Captain," Uhura said formally.

  A snicker sounded from close by the science station. McCoy wore a wide, half-sardonic smile. "I like the Briamosites already, Jim. Some of their top politicians have seen a chance for a free vacation, so they're going to hold it on the Riviera instead of in the capital, where their constituents could keep an eye on them—assuming they're ultimately responsible to a constituency, of course."

  "I beg your pardon, Doctor. The Riviera? That is a generalized human term, an adjective and not a noun."

  "It wasn't always, Spock. Long time ago, it referred to one specific site on Earth. Nowadays any coast area on any world that proves especially hospitable to settlement is known as a Riviera site. Putting this conference in the local version of it," McCoy chuckled, "is a sign of the Briamosites' humanness."

  "Yes," said Spock, his disappointment evident, "I'm afraid you're right, Doctor."

  McCoy responded cheerfully. "Don't worry, Spock. One day soon we'll run across a race that wants to join the Federation and behaves exactly like Vulcans."

  "A day I look forward to, Doctor, with great anticipation," the first officer replied. "However," he added in a more analytical tone, "it appears that the Briamosites possess many admirable qualities. I am looking forward with interest to the conference."

  "On that, we both agree," finished McCoy.

  Under Sulu's direction, following coordinates given by the Briamosites, the Enterprise was moving slowly toward the orbital station assigned to it. The five Briamosite warships shadowed the Federation cruiser every kilometer of the way.

  "What the Colonel-Greeter Pliver said about placing our ship and that of the Klingons close together in order to facilitate transportation and communication is undoubtedly true, Captain," Spock ventured conversationally. "At the same time, a superficial reason masks the real one."

  "Oh, there was never any question in my mind about it, Mr. Spock." Kirk thoughtfully stared at the viewscreen, which showed two Briamosite warships shining between the scanner and the green-blue world farther below. "They want both us and the Klingons together, nice and neat and accessible, so they can keep an eye on us all with a minimum amount of worry."

  "Approaching designated position, Captain."

  "Thank you, Mr. Sulu. Let's see what our counterparts and fellow arguers look like."

  Sulu switched on the forward scanners. A small dot appeared, barely visible against the great cloud-covered bulge of the planet Briamos.

  "Increasing forward magnification," Sulu declared.

  The dot leaped at them. Sparkling in the viewscreen was a Klingon cruiser, analog to the Federation's Constitution class. It was an immaculate technological vision, hanging in space like an abstract jewel. Every centimeter of its surface shone brilliant and mirror-bright. The winged shape looked as if it had rested in a Starbase vacuum dock for months.

  McCoy let out an appreciative whistle.

  "She really shines, Jim. The Klingons must have polished her hull from bridge to engines."

  Spock wasn't impressed. "I apparently have more confidence in the Briamosites than you do, Doctor, judging by your reaction. They seem too intelligent to me to be overawed by such superficialities as mere appearance."

  "I tend to agree with you, Spock," Kirk continued grimly. "But you have to admit that with the damage we suffered from that pulsar we don't present a very impressive sight alongside that." He paused, leaned forward in the command chair, and squinted hard at the
viewscreen.

  "Jim, something the matter?" wondered McCoy.

  "The ship." Kirk was lost in some thought of his own and spoke almost inaudibly. "I recognize that ship . . ." Then he sat back, added loudly, "The rogue planet, without a sun. The world of the illusion-masters who tested us—"

  "We're being scanned, sir," Uhura interrupted, "by the Klingons this time."

  "Yes. If they have a hailing signal out, acknowledge it, Lieutenant."

  "They do, sir," she reported immediately. "Making contact."

  A face formed on the screen; dignified, impressive, with a very un-Klingon bent toward humor. Most important of all, it was familiar. Dangerously familiar.

  "Jim," McCoy whispered, "you're right. I remember the illusion-masters and our contest there. And . . . I remember him. Isn't that—?"

  "Kumara," Kirk said sharply. "The Klingon I went to the old experimental Interspecies Academy with. Yes, that's him."

  "The Klingons have clearly," added Spock, who also recognized the face, "chosen their best to represent them."

  About that time the transmission must have cleared on board the Klingon ship, for the Klingon captain's eyebrows lifted in recognition. "Well, James Kirk. A surprise to see you again, Jim. Twice in the same year. A pleasure."

  "One we could do without," grumbled McCoy.

  Kumara glanced to his right, eyeing something offscreen. "I am just studying my other forward scanners, Jim, as you approach. It seems that these Briamosites trust you no more than they trust us. I'm glad to see their suspicion isn't one-sided. I can tell you, it took quite an effort to stay diplomatic in the face of their arrogant reception for us. There are four warships boxing my ship. Two against nine, then, if anything should go wrong."

  "You make alliances as fast as you break them, Kumara," Kirk replied tightly. "It seems to me you talk awfully confidently—and dangerously as well. How do you know they aren't monitoring this frequency?"

  "Their vessels and civilization are impressive for a primitive race," Kumara admitted. "But we tested this with a shuttlecraft of our own several days ago. They do not possess the equipment to break in and eavesdrop on this particular frequency." There was a pause as the Klingon captain glanced at something or someone out of view and made a disapproving sound.

  "Dear me, Jim," he said when he turned his attention back to the screen pickup, "it appears that your ship has suffered a considerable amount of damage. Not very appealing to look at, I can assure you. What happened?"

  "We were caught," Kirk said slowly, seeing no reason to conceal the matter, "in a wavicle barrage from a variable pulsar. A supposedly beaconed variable pulsar. The damage almost was severe enough to keep us from arriving here in time for the conference." He leaned forward again. When he spoke, his voice had assumed a low, threatening undercurrent of accusation. "I don't suppose, Kumara, that you have any idea what caused those beacons to malfunction?"

  The Klingon captain looked offended. "Am I expected to know the position and disposition of every petty Federation navigational device? I sympathize with your concern, naturally."

  "Of course you do," murmured McCoy sotto voce. "We can see that you're all broken up over it."

  "So you had nothing to do with it, then?" Kirk persisted.

  "To say that my ship was responsible for the destruction of an interstellar navigation beacon is inflammatory, besides being personally insulting, Jim."

  "I could care less how you interpret it," Kirk shot back. "Did you destroy those beacons?"

  "We destroyed no navigational beacons," Kumara replied with great dignity. Then he added in a slightly less formal voice, while finding something of extreme interest in the underside of his fingernails: "We were, however, patrolling routinely on our way to this conference through the fringes of the disputed territories. We did encounter a couple of malfunctioning fragments of space debris, hazards to navigation, actually, which we promptly eliminated so as to prevent the possibility of an accident to any vessel of Klingon or Federation."

  "Then you did blow out those beacons!" Kirk slammed a fist down on one arm of the command chair, glaring furiously at the calm face on the viewscreen.

  "Hazards to navigation, Jim," Kumara corrected him.

  "Your pardon, Captain."

  "Who's that?" Kumara looked to the right on his screen, saw Spock's outline flickering in and out of his view. "Ah, the inimitable Commander Spock."

  "I might remind you, Captain," said Spock flatly, "that the destruction of Federation property, in particular something of a nonmilitary nature such as a navigational beacon, is in direct violation of the Klingon-Federation subsidiary articles of peace as appended to the Treaty of Organia."

  Kumara shook his head, looked very tired. "I told you and will tell you for the last time, gentlemen, that we destroyed no navigation beacons. We torpedoed several nonfunctional pieces of free-floating metallic debris, that's all."

  "The beacons," Spock continued, as if the Klingon captain had said nothing at all, "would not have been broadcasting unless there was something to broadcast about. Specifically, imminent danger from a high-intensity burst of radiation from the pulsar they were placed around. So if you destroyed them at a time when no such outburst was imminent—and there is no other way you could have approached the beacons near enough to do so, without first receiving an all-clear from them—then you could say they were nonfunctional.

  "Furthermore," the first officer continued, "to say in the first place that an object as small and low in mass as a beacon could present a hazard of any kind in the little-frequented section of space where they were located is absurd. A starship traveling at warp-drive would barely take notice of the impact a beacon-sized object would make against its meteoric shields as it disintegrated. And the chances of such a collision occurring are small enough to border on the infinitesimal."

  "Ah," countered Kumara, wagging a cautionary finger, "but they are finite, Commander."

  "That may be so," Spock began, "but—"

  "And no matter how slight the possibility, we of Klingon always seek ways to improve the space lanes and make them safer for travel by any ship."

  "Kumara," said Kirk softly, barely holding his anger in check, "I am reporting your destruction of both beacons to Starfleet Command. An official protest will be registered with the imperial government, and—"

  "Oh, come now, Jim," the Klingon captain chided him. "Why waste the power? There's no way you can prove that my ship was responsible for the so-called demise of your precious beacons. In fact, there is no way you can prove we were even in the area, which," he added quickly, "we were not, of course."

  "He's right, Captain." Spock looked disappointed. "Our claim is not supported by fact, only by supposition and deduction."

  "Good enough for me, Mr. Spock," Kirk snapped, a mite testily.

  "True, Captain, and for myself also. However, Starfleet will not regard it so. Certainly not enough to base a protest on, one which could trigger a grave interstellar incident. There would be charges and countercharges, and without proof . . ."

  "Spock's right, Jim."

  Kirk didn't look around. "I know he's right, Bones. But this is one time I wish he wasn't."

  "From what I can overhear of the discussion taking place around you, Jim, involving some of your officers, I would presume, you'd best heed their advice. They are quite correct. You can't do a thing." The Klingon captain sounded very pleased with himself.

  "On the other hand, Kumara," Kirk mused dangerously, "I could apply inferential logic of my own regarding the destruction of the beacons and use that as grounds on which to take appropriate retributive action."

  Kumara's veneer of good fellowship—never thicker than need be—abruptly vanished. So did his air of affected courtesy. No longer did he resemble some peculiar hybrid. He had turned thoroughly Klingon in expression and manner, although his reply was still more controlled than the average Klingon captain would have managed, considering the implications of the threat Kirk ha
d just made.

  "If it's a fight you're looking for, Jim, we'll be most happy to oblige you."

  "No." Kirk leaned back in the command chair, satisfied at the result his warning had produced. "I was just getting tired of that oily grin of yours."

  As if on cue, the expression in question reappeared. "Which oily grin, Jim? This one?" Kumara had a real sense of humor, a genuine rarity among Klingons, making him all the more dangerous.

  Now that Kirk had indicated he had no intention of opening hostilities, the Klingon captain once more relaxed. "No, naturally we cannot fight, Jim. This conference is far too important to interrupt with petty squabbling among ourselves. Of course, once our friends and allies the Briamosites learn firsthand of the natural, ingrained duplicity of the Federation, then with their numerous well-armed ships about to assist us, I might reconsider."

  "Don't count on their help in anything, Kumara. They're not your friends and allies yet."

  "In good time, Jim. Merely a formality, as you will discover. I have preparations to make. Until the conference, then . . .?" And without giving Kirk a chance to reply, the transmission from the Klingon cruiser terminated.

  " 'In good time,' " Kirk muttered, mimicking his Klingon counterpart. "In about twenty million years, maybe, but not before."

  "I don't believe the Briamosites will be around in twenty million years, Captain," Spock pointed out philosophically. "Most species are—"

  Kirk sounded tired. "I don't think they will either, Mr. Spock. I wasn't being serious. I only meant to say that—never mind. Obviously Kumara destroyed those beacons. They have an excellent intelligence service. Undoubtedly they knew we were coming and which direction we were coming from: Starbase Twenty-Five.

  "With that in mind, they eliminated the beacons so we wouldn't know when the pulsar was going to emit a dangerous outburst of radiation. All of which was intended to prevent us from attending the conference. They could have canceled the beacons and, traveling at maximum velocity, still have arrived here three days ago as Colonel-Greeter Pliver informed us.