               A Dish Best Served Cold 

                                                    by 

                                           L. B. Colyer 

                                            (C)  2019 

                                     ----  PROLOG  ---- 

     Scanning signals from Starbase Ketridge Alpha had 

detected the rattletrap freighter inching its way 

through the star system.  That it was a very old vessel 

would have been readily apparent to even an 

inexperienced space traveler.  Its patched and 

battered hull, though still intact, revealed a history of 

neglect and abuse.  The hull’s outer finish had long 

since given up its smooth, shiny appearance, having 

been repeatedly punished by debris and high energy 

particles, and the ship's identifying numbers had 

faded into dim partial shadows of what they might 

once have been. 

     Its hull was strictly utilitarian, rectangular in design 

and approximately four times wider than its height.  

Placed in the upper half of its rounded bow was row 

of narrow viewports which looked out from the 

vessel's bridge.  On each side of the vessel 

immediately behind the viewports a dome-shaped 

structure protruded which housed aiming and 

discharge grids for the vessel's sometimes functional 

defensive armament. 

     On each side of the rear of the hull an ion-driven 

impulse engine was suspended on a slender swept-

back pylon.  This design concession to cosmetics could 

have served to give the freighter an illusion of speed 

and power had not the afterthought warp drive unit, 

suspended over the upper hull by an unsightly 

arrangement of supports and bracing, the power to 

distract the viewer's eye away from the only pleasing 

lines of the vessel. 

     Inside the ship the compartments at the sides of the 

hull not grudgingly set aside by the Captain for crew 

functions were designated as cargo holds.  All 

compartments on the inside of the ship were accessed 

by a single central corridor which ran nearly the 

entire length of the vessel.  The stern end of the 

central corridor led to the ship's hopelessly cramped 

engineering compartment, while the forward end 

opened onto the bridge. 

     The sweaty, overweight terran who sat in the ship's 

command chair was smugly congratulating himself on 

the apparent ease and success of his latest ventures.  

In fact, nearly everyone who knew anything about his 

devious dealings thought of him as a pirate.  He 

preferred to think of himself as a black market 

merchant. 

     He was known within his illicit calling by a 

pseudonym of his own choosing, LeMieux. He was 

actually the second son of a successful and respected 

Federation merchant.  When his father had passed 

away his estate had been divided equally between his 

two sons.  The older brother had used his inheritance 

to start a business of his own.  He applied himself 

diligently using business practices learned from his 

father, and like his father he reaped success and the 

respect of his customers and associates. 

     LeMieux, on the other hand, had never been able to 

apply himself to any undertaking which required 

investments of persistence and hard work.  He 

squandered his inheritance on self-indulgent pursuits 

and dubious schemes and soon found himself with 

very little money left to his name.  Expecting a 

handout, LeMieux approached his older brother for 

financial relief.  The older brother wisely offered 

Lemieux a job instead. 

     Outraged, LeMieux stormed out of his brother's life, 

profanely vowing that he would never again be in a 

position where someone could suggest that he should 

work his way through life serving someone else. It 

was near this time in his life when he began referring 

to himself by his new pseudonym, LeMieux.  

According to his research it roughly translated as “The 

Better (one)”, which was how he chose to view 

himself in relation to his older brother.  

     He gathered all his remaining assets, and then 

disappeared.  The next time any of LeMieux’s names 

were spoken in his brother's house was when his 

brother was visited by Federation authorities who 

informed him that LeMieux was being sought to 

answer charges of smuggling and piracy. 

     LeMieux enjoyed success in his illegal profession, 

not through any brilliant proficiency, but more 

through his talents for being recklessly bold and 

unpredictable.  In his own way he amassed a small 

fortune, but as successful as he was he continually 

envied his brother's even greater successes.  It 

seemed the only way to force an acknowledgement of 

his superiority from his older brother was to destroy 

his business and his reputation.  The plan LeMieux 

devised would require more financial resources than 

he currently commanded.  He had been seeking ways 

of financing operations against his brother's merchant 

fleet when the Romulan woman had come into his life. 

     The Romulan woman had been very secretive, 

volunteering little about herself except that she 

represented interests willing to pay well for 

transportation of sensitive goods, and above all, 

discretion.  Twice she and LeMieux had negotiated 

mutually agreeable terms, and LeMieux had been 

handsomely rewarded for providing her with all she 

had required.  Then when she had visited Lemieux to 

arrange for a third and final cargo she had insisted on 

the installation of a new piece of specially modified 

equipment into his ship.  A 'cloaking device' she had 

called it; something that was guaranteed to hide the 

ship from Federation surveillance.  The greatest 

problem with the device was its insatiable appetite for 

the ship's power.  With the cloaking device in 

operation the ship could barely generate enough 

surplus power to move itself.  Therefore the ship's 

defensive shields and weapons were two options 

LeMieux would not be able to count on should some 

unforeseen and undesirable situation develop.  

LeMieux had protested, but the Romulan woman had 

been beguilingly reassuring, as she could be when she 

really wanted something, and LeMieux had needed 

exactly the amount of money she had offered to pay to 

implement his scheme against his brother, so the 

cloaking device had been installed. 

     And so, thus equipped, they had all come together 

for a last trip: LeMieux and his crew - except for the 

head engineer, who had been detained before their 

departure by port authorities when he had instigated 

a brawl over a disputed charge on his barroom tab, 

the Romulan woman and her precious cargo, and her 

cloaking device, which LeMieux had just turned on as 

the woman had instructed when the ship had reached 

predetermined coordinates. 

     LeMieux opened a noisy communications channel 

to her quarters. 

     "Yes?" the speaker crackled at him, doing its best to 

convey the woman's response. 

     "Captain LeMieux here.  I just turned on that 

cloaking thing that you stuffed into my crew's dining 

area.  If it's working, we are now playing hide-and-

seek with your Federation friends." 

     "I'm on my way," she said curtly. 

     The Romulan woman pressed a wall-mounted 

button which was supposed to open the door to her 

quarters.  The door actually receded hesitatingly into 

the wall on the first try, an accomplishment which 

mildly surprised her.  She cautiously checked the 

outside wall over her door, and then the ceiling, the 

wall on the opposite side of the corridor, and finally 

the deck in the corridor, both ways.  She had learned 

that there was no telling what might be lurking 

outside the comfort and security of her room. 

     The Romulan woman felt these precautions were 

necessary because, as she put it bluntly, LeMieux ran a 

filthy ship.  An innumerable host of insect and vermin 

life forms lived in corners, crevasses, and crawlways 

throughout the ship.  An amused LeMieux had told her 

when she had first protested the unsavory conditions 

that the ship's pest population had at one time grown 

so large that even his crew had delivered to him an 

ultimatum that something needed to be done.  Rather 

than lose a crew he was comfortable with, he had 

allowed them to bring on board a species of arachnoid 

scavengers to bring the pests under control.  LeMieux 

cared not how many pests she killed, but she was 

forbidden to harm any of the scavengers. 

     When satisfied that the corridor to the bridge was 

free of potentially embarrassing surprises, the 

Romulan woman strode with determination toward 

her destination.  As she approached the bridge, her 

eyes were drawn to a discarded, foul-smelling 

garment lying on the deck against the wall.  She 

stopped to watch as insects of several species scurried 

frantically away from the garment, startled by a pair 

of scavengers that were sifting through the folds with 

their pincers.  The scavengers were surprisingly quick, 

and were able to capture some of the smaller insects 

which they were able to swallow in a single gulp. 

     One of the scavengers lifted a sleeve and exposed a 

milliped ravenously ingesting the soiled fabric.  As the 

sleeve lifted the milliped turned and hissed fiercely at 

the scavenger, which jumped back and emitted a 

surprised screech of its own.  The second scavenger, 

attracted by the cry of the first, scrambled to 

investigate. 

     The milliped darted away from the garment, and 

hugging the base of the wall, headed for a corroded 

opening in the deck near the engineering end of the 

corridor.  Both scavengers furiously chased after the 

fleeing milliped, one scurrying between the legs of the 

Romulan woman.  Repulsed and fascinated at the 

same time, she turned around to watch the end of the 

unfolding drama of survival. 

     The milliped was only a meter from the corroded 

opening when it was startled by a third scavenger 

emerging from it.  The milliped hissed again and ran 

to the center of the corridor where it was surrounded 

by the three scavengers.  The Romulan woman 

shivered, seeing that the milliped would be unable to 

defend itself from three determined predators.  

Nonetheless she watched as the scavengers fell upon 

and devoured their prey.  What she saw only further 

convinced her that LeMieux's stinking pirate raider 

had become an ecosystem unto itself. 

     She approached the door to the bridge which 

opened as she stood before it.  She walked onto the 

bridge and surveyed the array of stations.  She 

thought it odd that the engineering station was again 

unmanned.  It was conceivable that the engineer was 

performing duties elsewhere, but his continued 

absence from the bridge was becoming too consistent 

to ignore.  She would have to remember to ask 

LeMieux for an explanation. 

     On each side at the rear of the bridge were weapons 

stations, also unmanned.  Leaning on the bulkhead 

behind one of the weapons stations was a pair of 

Scamfurr, lithe and muscular feline humanoids, a 

species which boasted phenomenal eyesight and 

quick reflexes.  LeMieux had admitted that he 

considered them the best gunners in the galaxy.  

Amfess, the female, was reacting coyly to Parr, the 

male, as he tried to playfully nibble on her ears.  Give 

them another few minutes of this, thought the 

Romulan woman, and there will be no getting them 

back to work. 

     Glaring at the Scamfurr, the Romulan woman 

cleared her throat. 

     LeMieux turned and noticed her, and then turned 

toward the Scamfurr.  Emitting a snort of amusement 

he called to them, "Parr!  Amfess!  Back to work, you 

two, before you jeopardize the commission you expect 

to get paid for this run." 

     The two Scamfurr glanced angrily at him, and at the 

Romulan woman, then reluctantly returned to their 

posts at the weapons stations. 

     Occupying stations at a console immediately before 

LeMieux's command chair were the helmsman and 

navigator.  The Romulan woman could not place the 

species of either of these crewmen, but at the moment 

that did not greatly concern her.  What did concern 

her was the fact that they were eating during the most 

critical phase of her mission; that of penetrating the 

starbase's defense scanners and patrol ships so that 

she could deliver the last of her 'packages' to anti-

Federation interests on the planet they were 

approaching. 

     The helmsman, Greut, a large, burly humanoid, had 

a canister on the console near him from which came a 

constant squeaking and scratching.  He reached into 

the canister and stirred around for a bit until he 

seemed to find what he had been searching for.  By its 

tail, he pulled out of the canister an ermite, a small 

rodent-like creature which was regarded as a great 

delicacy by his race when it was eaten gourmet-style, 

uncooked and alive.  There were several other ermites 

clinging to the fur of the creature Greut was holding.  

They were feverishly shaking themselves back and 

forth, obviously trying to dislodge their comrade from 

Greut's thumb-and-forefinger grip.  He gleefully shook 

them loose and back into the canister, and then 

popped the one he was holding into his mouth.  As he 

chewed he turned toward the navigator with a greatly 

exaggerated satisfied smile on his face and said, 

"Mmmmm!"  He picked up his canister and pushed it 

into the navigator's face while he swallowed and 

suggested, "Try one!" 

     Hagam-aur, a tall, slender humanoid, pushed the 

canister away and downed a great gulp of the 

steaming blue porridge from a large mug he was 

keeping at his station.  "Proper food!" he asserted, 

pushing his mug into Greut's face. 

     "Bah!" rasped Greut, wrinkling his flat, generous 

nose.  He then turned away before reaching into his 

canister again. 

     "Captain LeMieux!" stormed the outraged Romulan 

woman, "you are being paid to bring me and my cargo 

through the Federation defenses on this planet!  

Instead of demanding vigilance from your crew, you 

permit them to paw upon each other and partake in 

what is undeniably a festivity on the bridge!  I demand 

that you immediately stop these acts of foolishness 

and order your crew to apply their fullest attention to 

this dangerous phase of our mission!" 

     "My dear," smiled LeMieux through a veneer of oily 

charm, "it was you who insisted on installing your 

cloaking device in my ship's dining hall.  Surely you 

can understand that my crew needs to eat 

somewhere.  And as for applying themselves more to 

their jobs, why, you yourself assured me that when 

your cloaking device is working the crew is virtually 

unnecessary." 

     LeMieux was interrupted when Greut sprang from 

his seat clutching at his throat.  He started to run, but 

lost his footing on one of several exposed heavy cables 

on the deck and landed heavily before the forward 

console. 

     Hagam-aur ran to his friend shouting, "He's choking 

on one of the ermites - it must have tried to run down 

his throat!" 

     The navigator rolled the heavy Greut onto his 

stomach and began pressing on his back, hoping to 

dislodge the offending creature. 

     Captain LeMieux rolled his eyes in disgust as he 

forced his bulk out of the command chair.  His 

helmsman had once again fallen victim to the bane of 

ermite gourmets.  He dragged Hagam-aur away from 

Greut and then hauled the choking helmsman to his 

feet.  "Hold him!" LeMieux shouted to Hagam-aur. 

     With great effort Hagam-aur held Greut erect with 

his arms behind his back.  LeMieux walked in front of 

Greut, closed his fat fingers into a great fist, and drove 

it forcefully into Greut's midsection.  Greut's eyes 

strained, barely holding their places in their sockets, 

but he made no sound.  LeMieux cursed under his 

breath and repeated the procedure, this time with 

greater force.  Greut violently coughed and expelled 

the unmoving body of the ermite onto the deck two 

meters in front of him.  He then fell to his knees and 

drew in an enormous breath. 

     LeMieux rubbed his aching fist and smiled at the 

Romulan woman.  "Remember that," he said.  "It is 

indispensable first aid for my glutton of a helmsman." 

     Greut was still recovering with deep, rasping 

breaths.  He stared at the ermite lying on the deck.  It, 

too, was beginning to recover, its back legs starting to 

twitch.  Greut exploded onto his feet raising his great 

boot, hoping to smash the ermite beneath it.  The 

premature effort caused him to collapse weakly onto 

the deck narrowly missing the ermite.  It struggled, 

mere inches away from Greut's face, trying to right 

itself.  Finally it succeeded and, as fast as it could, 

disappeared into an opening under the forward 

console.  The entire bridge crew had gathered around 

the fallen helmsman and had seen what had 

happened.  As Greut made a last impotent grab at the 

fleeing ermite they roared with laughter. 

     LeMieux was still smiling at the Romulan woman.  

"We keep telling him to eat them broiled, as nearly 

everyone else does," he chuckled to her. 

     The Romulan woman decided she could endure no 

more of the crew's irresponsible madness.  She threw 

up her hands in frustration and screamed at nothing 

in particular.  She withdrew behind LeMieux's 

command chair and then ran to the door.  She 

repeatedly struck the slowly opening automatic door 

until it gave her enough of an opening to leave the 

bridge.  After sprinting down the central corridor she 

angrily reentered her quarters and briskly walked in a 

tight circle, all the while talking to herself.  Working 

with this crew was impossible, she seethed.  They 

would not take orders from her - only from LeMieux.  

While that had annoyed her she had tried to work 

within the confinements of that arrangement.  But 

now it appeared that her last access to control of her 

mission was rapidly fading away.  Captain LeMieux no 

longer took her seriously.  Scum!  He had repeatedly 

asked her to trust him.  And remembering that, she 

laughed.  She was forced to admit that the laughter 

was a good sign.  In a moment she would regain her 

self-control.  She was safe in her room, the only haven 

of sanity on LeMieux's ship.  Safe, and clean, thanks to 

her efforts.  She had fastidiously cleaned and sanitized 

her quarters, as if the scent of cleanliness was a charm 

powerful enough to keep at bay the evil spirits that 

had turned the ship's crewmen into such a mindless 

band of incompetents. 

     On the bridge, Captain LeMieux had returned to his 

command chair.  This run really isn't going so badly, 

he thought confidently to himself.  Greut has only 

choked himself once, so far, and there haven't been 

any signs of trouble from the starbase they were 

sneaking toward.  Yes, he beamed, except for the 

indiscretion of that drunken engineer, Velis, this has 

been an almost flawless run. 

                                                *   *   * 

     The command center for planetary security 

scanning on Starbase Ketridge Alpha, the listening 

post, was currently manned by Lieutenant Tommy 

Van Halen, and a Vulcan, Lieutenant Taybok.  The two 

lieutenants had become fast friends as cadets at the 

Starfleet Academy.  On the surface the impulsive Van 

Halen and the stiff and proper Taybok seemed an 

unlikely combination, but theirs was a friendship 

based on a long period of mutual assistance to each 

other.  At the Academy it had been Van Halen who had 

taught Taybok how to understand and fit in with 

passionate and illogical non-Vulcans, while on the 

other hand Taybok had imparted a small measure of 

self-discipline to Van Halen, and had taught him how 

to study and absorb new knowledge at the pace 

dictated by his classes.  At the conclusion of their 

studies the two cadets had begun requesting duty 

assignments together.  Their last orders had sent them 

to Ketridge Alpha, a new and expanding facility on the 

Romulan frontier. 

     "Another half hour to go," observed Van Halen, 

stealing a glance at the clock.  "Do you have anything 

lined up for your off-duty time?" 

"Yes, as a matter of fact," replied Taybok.  "I 

have learned that advance literature has been 

supplied to our library on the new equipment which 

will be installed.  I would like to review it." 

     "You always were the life of the party," smiled Van 

Halen as he leaned forward in his chair to make a 

small adjustment.  "I'll warn you now, old buddy, don't 

call me if your wild evening gets out of hand, because I 

shall have more important things on my mind." 

     "Dinner again with Lt. Commander Joy?" asked 

Taybok with just a hint of disapproval in his voice. 

     "Guilty as charged," bragged Van Halen, "and later, 

a stroll through the gardens, perhaps." 

     "She is a superior officer. ." Taybok reminded him. 

     "Only when the duty roster says she's working," 

explained Van Halen, raising his right index finger to 

support his feigned pretext of authority on the matter.  

"I guarantee you that after hours she's ..  hello, that's 

weird!" 

     "What has happened?" inquired Taybok. 

     "This freighter I was tracking… Suddenly it just 

winked out," explained Van Halen. 

     "Can you be more specific?" asked Taybok. 

     "It vanished from the screen.  One second it was 

there, and the next, it wasn't," answered Van Halen.  

"It winked out.  Alright?" 

     "Any signs of trouble, or equipment malfunction?"  

Taybok calmly asked. 

     Van Halen checked his panel and initiated several 

quick diagnostic procedures.  "No, nothing unusual." 

     "Then a cloaking device, perhaps?" Taybok 

speculated. 

     "On a freighter?" Van Halen doubtfully questioned. 

     "You have a point," Taybok conceded.  "That is 

highly unlikely.  I shall make the required reports to 

our superiors." 

     "Yeah, fine.  You do that," said Van Halen.  "Hey, for 

a moment I was picking up something on audio.  Very 

weak, mostly static - though I could almost swear it 

was a voice." 

     The faint crackling burst of static had been 

automatically recorded.  Van Halen recalled the digital 

file and fed it to the station computer for 

enhancement.  A moment later the station computer 

indicated that its work was finished and Van Halen 

instructed it to replay the enhanced transmission.  

The scratchy voice of a woman still distorted by static 

issued from the computer's speaker system.  "I'm on 

my way." 

     "Would another pass through the enhancer help 

with sound quality?" asked Taybok. 

     Van Halen thought a moment before answering, 

"I'm really not sure.  Maybe the lab specialists could 

filter some more of the static out.  You know, it kind of 

sounds like static from a poor connection - these 

super-sensitive scanners could pick up something like 

that." 

     "Try to locate the transmission's source," suggested 

Taybok, "while I instruct the computer to attempt 

voice identification." 

     Both men worked independently for several 

minutes before Van Halen revealed, "The computer 

thinks the transmission came from where that 

disappearing freighter would be if it was still on my 

screen." 

     "Then perhaps the freighter is still out there," 

suggested Taybok before his attention was drawn to 

his own information monitor.  "Look at this.  The 

computer has established a voice match." 

     Van Halen wheeled his chair over to look at 

Taybok's screen.  Astonished, he whistled.  "Ksariss?" 

he said.  "The Romulan spy?  The architect of the Izar 

rebellions?" 

     "According to the computer," Taybok affirmed. 

     "Well, I know who to report this to!" declared Van 

Halen. 

     He punched a series of numbers into his computer's 

keypad.  Moments later the face of the duty security 

officer, Lt. Commander Barbara Joy appeared on his 

video screen.  "Hello, Tommy," she smiled, "I'm glad 

you called.  I'm going to be a little late tonight ..  " 

     "Probably later than you realize," said Van Halen 

sadly, thinking of the wonderful evening he was 

ruining by doing his duty.  "Look, we may have 

something big for you.  Guaranteed medals and 

promotions for all of us." 

     "What is it?" 

     "First there was a freighter that disappeared from 

our tracking screens.  No sign of trouble or foul play.  

Next the computers picked up a burst of static in 

which the audio enhancers were able to find a 

woman's voice.  Computers placed the source of this 

static at where the freighter would have been if it 

hadn't disappeared from the tracking screens.  And 

then Taybok ran a voice I.D. on the enhanced signal.  

The computers say the voice belongs to Ksariss.  Is 

that big enough for you?" 

     Lt. Commander Joy paused before seriously 

replying, "Oh, yeah.  Definitely big enough." 

     "Is that all you have to say?" asked Van Halen. 

     "Headphones, Tommy!" instructed Lt. Commander 

Joy.  When she saw that Van Halen had placed his 

headphones over his ears, she continued.  "I'm only 

telling you this because I trust you.  Not a word - do 

you understand?" 

     Van Halen nodded his head, and then Lt. 

Commander Joy continued.  "There was a security 

bulletin issued concerning an assault suspect who was 

taken into custody elsewhere.  He admitted to being a 

member of a ship's crew that would be attempting to 

smuggle a Romulan spy through our planetary 

security nets.  Her name is supposedly Ksariss, and 

our base was supposed to have been her next port of 

call.  You may just have given us a shot at 

apprehending her." 

     Van Halen had noted that the prospect of capturing 

a Romulan spy had not seemed to make Lt. 

Commander Joy very happy.  "So what's the problem?" 

he asked. 

     "It'll take time to assemble a complete squad for an 

attempted intercept," she said as she choked down 

her disappointment.  "Two of my members left for 

reassignment this morning.  Their replacements were 

delayed in transit and won't arrive for a few more 

hours." 

     "No problem.  Taybok and I can help you if you 

need it," offered Van Halen.  "Remember, we're both 

certified for security duty." 

     Taybok's eyes darted toward Van Halen with more 

than mild curiosity.  He had not heard Lt. Commander 

Joy's explanation, but he had heard the part where 

Van Halen had volunteered him for something; and 

based upon the kinds of things for which Van Halen 

had sometimes previously volunteered him, he 

instinctively felt he should be putting some distance 

between himself and whatever scheme Van Halen had 

just hatched. 

     "I don't know, Tommy," Joy responded.  "The base 

commander probably wouldn't ok your involvement 

in something like this .. " 

     Van Halen saw two officers walking together 

toward his duty station.  Realizing that they were the 

ones scheduled to relieve Taybok and him, he tore off 

the headphones and leaped out of his chair. 

     "We can't wait around, fellas!" he said quickly.  

"Everything you'll need for your initial briefing is in 

the log."  He turned to Taybok and urged, "Come on, 

hurry!" 

     Taybok started to voice a protest, but was 

interrupted by Van Halen.  "Please, Taybok.  Barbara's 

counting on us!  She needs two extra crewmen.  It's 

important!" 

     Reluctantly Taybok followed after Van Halen's 

frenzied exit. 

                                           *     *     * 

     Lt. Commander Joy's squad, into which she had 

reluctantly included Lieutenants Van Halen and 

Taybok, had beamed from the starbase complex on 

the planet's surface to an orbiting spacedock where 

they had boarded a security patrol vessel and had 

departed to investigate the disappearing freighter.  As 

they were checking their equipment Van Halen 

noticed that Joy and another man, Jackson, were 

wearing bulky wide black belts which had not been 

issued to the other security team members. 

     "Is there something special about those belts?" he 

asked. 

     "They're experimental," explained Joy.  " HQ wants 

field-use feedback on them.  The belts hold a 

miniaturized battery powered force shield generator.  

It can project a force shield around its wearer for a 

few seconds - just enough time to spring a surprise on 

somebody without getting hurt right away.  Or so the 

manual says.  It won't be as effective as a full backpack 

unit, but it's a lot lighter.  Maybe we'll get a chance to 

try them out." 

     As the patrol vessel approached the anticipated 

coordinates of Van Halen's phantom freighter its 

scanners were unable to detect any ships, but they did 

register a suspiciously charged ion trail that seemed 

to be elongating itself toward Ketridge Alpha.  Lt. 

Commander Joy ordered the patrol vessel onto a 

course parallel to the ion trail so that it could be 

scanned.  She called Van Halen and Taybok to look at 

the readings the sensors were gathering. 

     "Your opinions, Lieutenants," she said.  "Is it 

possible that a ship ahead of us could be leaving this 

ion trail?" 

     "It has to be," said Van Halen.  "This mix of 

radiation is what you'd expect from ion propulsion." 

     "I agree," volunteered Taybok.  "Judging from the 

makeup of the trail's radiation, it must have been 

some time since this hypothetical engine has had any 

maintenance performed on it." 

     "Thank you," said Lt. Commander Joy.  "It's time to 

test our theories.  Open all channels for hailing, and 

watch out for surprises." 

     "All channels open, Sir," responded the 

Communications Officer. 

     "Attention, unidentified vessel.  This is Lt. 

Commander Joy, Security Officer from Federation 

Starbase Ketridge Alpha.  You are violating 

navigational regulations by traveling in a non-visible 

mode and by withholding your identification beacon.  

Please bring your vessel to a complete stop, shut 

down your engines, and prepare to be boarded." 

     Several minutes passed.  "No response, Sir," said 

Van Halen.  "They're ignoring us." 

     "Attention, unidentified vessel.  This is Lt. 

Commander Joy speaking," she said firmly and 

distinctly.  "If you do not voluntarily comply with my 

instructions I will be obligated to use force to stop 

your vessel and board it.  I will repeat my instructions.  

Bring your vessel to a complete stop, shut down your 

engines, and prepare to be boarded." 

     "Same negative response," said Van Halen a minute 

later. 

     "Then we'll have to try a little harder to get their 

attention," said Joy solemnly.  "Forward phasers, on 

my command you will fire to disable.  Is that 

understood?" 

     "Understood, Sir.  Fire to disable.  Sir, what are the 

target coordinates?" 

      "Target and follow the ion trail," said Joy.  "If there 

really is an invisible ship, you'll find it just beyond the 

end." 

     "Aye, Sir." 

     Joy stared intently at the viewscreen and gave the 

order, "Forward phasers, fire!" 

     The phaser's beam traveled quickly along the ion 

trail until it encountered the invisible vessel which 

had created the radioactive ion beacon to its location.  

The outline of the ship became illuminated in a green 

ghostly hue.  The mystery ship began a slight yaw to 

the left, straightened itself and continued on course at 

a slightly increased speed, and then faded from view 

as the distance between them increased. 

     "Forward phasers, again on my command, fire to 

disable," ordered Lt. Commander Joy, "only this time 

increase the duration of the beam fifteen percent." 

     "Aye, Sir.  Fire to disable - fifteen percent duration 

increase." 

     "Forward phasers, fire!" 

     The patrol vessel's phaser beam again followed the 

ion trail, finding the mystery vessel and causing it to 

shudder as it struck the hull.  The green hue appeared 

for an instant, brighter this time, and then faded.  The 

mystery vessel remained visible and stable, drifting 

along with all major systems either incapacitated or 

shut down. 

     "Exactly what I wanted.  Well done," said Joy.  "Get a 

tractor beam on that ship and keep a tight hold on her.  

Transporter Chief, do you have a place to beam us in?" 

     "Affirmative, Sir.  A central corridor amid ship," 

replied the Transporter Chief.  "I read most life forms 

on the bridge, toward the bow, heavily stunned at the 

moment.  Wait, there's one additional life form, 

Romulan, in a compartment on the port side of the 

corridor, at the rear of the vessel before the 

engineering section." 

     "Boarding teams, listen up!" ordered Lt. 

Commander Joy.  "Team 'A' will beam over first and 

move to secure the bridge.  Team 'B'," she said looking 

at Van Halen, Taybok, and Jackson, "follow them as 

quickly as possible.  Keep that corridor clear of 

surprises and try to keep the Romulan isolated in its 

room.  You two rookies," she said to Van Halen and 

Taybok, "try to stay out of trouble, and don't take any 

unnecessary action against the Romulan until I join 

you.  Any questions?" 

     There were none.  Team 'A' filed quietly onto the 

ship's transporter pads and beamed to the mystery 

ship.  Then Van Halen, Taybok, Jackson, and Joy 

beamed over.  They reformed in a narrow corridor.  

After a quick look around, Joy motioned the others 

toward the rear of the ship and the door they were 

supposed to watch.  As they moved toward their 

station and took positions on both sides of the door, 

Joy sprinted toward the bridge.  She disappeared into 

the bridge compartment.  Shortly thereafter there was 

a single incident of hand phaser fire.  Then voices 

belonging to members of the boarding team began 

loudly giving instructions, and things on the bridge 

appeared to be under control. 

     Several minutes later Lt. Commander Joy joined the 

'B' team at the rear of the corridor.  "All's quiet, I 

presume," she said. 

     Jackson nodded. 

     "It's quiet," said Van Halen, "because the bugs are 

afraid to stir up the dust.  I wouldn't be surprised if 

Starbase Health and Sanitation condemns this tub 

before we get to use it for evidence." 

     "That's enough, Tommy," warned Joy sternly.  She 

next turned her attention to the door.  "Ma'am, we are 

Federation security agents.  We know you're in there.  

My people have control of the ship.  There is no 

possibility of escape.  You could make this easy if you 

just open the door and come out peacefully." 

     After a short, agonizingly quiet pause, a woman's 

voice responded in a cold, even tone from behind the 

door, "Are you prepared to pay the price for the 

pleasure of my company?" 

     Amused, Joy glanced at the men behind her.  

"Sounds like a pretty tough lady," she observed.  Then 

more seriously she said, "Pay attention, here's the 

plan.  I will disable the door's latching mechanism 

with my phaser.  Then Jackson and I will force the 

door out of the way.  We will activate our force shield 

generators and dive into the room to distract her 

attention.  Because the shield frequencies won't be 

synchronized with our phasers, we won't be able to 

fire until the shields die out, which will happen 

quickly enough.  You two must be ready to cover us 

and sweep the room with your weapons as we go in.  

Please, if she wants to play rough, get her before she 

gets us." 

     Their heads nodded in unison.  Lt. Commander Joy 

pointed her hand phaser at the edge of the metal door, 

and its bright beam cut into the unit.  After several 

seconds of cutting, the door jerked backward slightly.  

Lt. Commander Joy was satisfied.  She looked into 

Jackson's eyes and mouthed the words, "On three." 

     Then, in strict rhythm she extended her fingers: 

one, two ..  and on the count of three Jackson pulled 

the unsecured door back into the wall and, along with 

Joy, switched on his shield generator.  Joy dived first 

into the room, to the left, and Jackson followed to the 

right.  As they landed on the floor and were reaching 

for their hand phasers they were enveloped in a 

shimmering protective glow which was already 

showing signs of fading.  In confusion the Romulan 

woman, who had been holding ready a hand disruptor 

in anticipation of a forced entry, fired into the floor 

between them.  In unison Van Halen and Taybok spun 

into the doorway with their phasers leveled at the 

Romulan woman.  She saw them and started to raise 

her weapon.  The two men in the doorway both fired.  

Stunned, she staggered, dropped her disruptor, and 

sank to the floor in an uncomfortable-looking heap. 

     As Taybok kept a watchful eye on everything in the 

Romulan woman's room, Van Halen stepped back into 

the corridor and looked toward the bridge.  A member 

of the security team waved to him, and he waved back.  

Then, lightly bouncing back into the compartment, he 

was relieved to see Joy and Jackson sitting up on the 

floor.  They were looking at the Romulan woman, now 

their prisoner, who was still out cold on the floor. 

     "How 'bout that!  We pulled it off!" Van Halen 

cheered. 

     "Yeah, we pulled it off," agreed Lt. Commander Joy.  

"But I still think we're going to get a swift Starfleet 

boot in the derriere for bringing you two amateurs 

along." 

     "A mere slap on the wrist, if anything," speculated 

Van Halen jubilantly.   "And after they're through with 

that formality, they'll bring out the big guns of 

gratitude.  They'll be saying thank-you for this long 

after we retire!" 

     Jackson laughed.  "Was I this bad on my first time 

out, Commander?" he asked. 

     "Almost, Jackson.  Almost," replied Joy with the 

wink of an eye. 

        ---- CHAPTER ONE ---- 

     It seemed an ideal world.  Beautiful.  Peaceful.  

Orderly.  Safe. 

     And such a lovely creature he had found there.  She 

was much like her world; beautiful, orderly, and safe.  

Captain James Kirk could not remember where they 

had met.  Or how.  It mattered little.  Their meeting, 

their relationship - a feeling of inescapable destiny 

fulfilled. 

     She had an allure toward which Kirk felt he had 

been drawn, or should have been drawn.  He tried to 

make himself believe he wanted her.  There was no 

good reason not to seek out her company.  Or was 

there?  She had so much to offer, and yet to claim her 

entailed great sacrifice. 

     Kirk had taken her on long walks, to different 

places, discovering new things.  She had smiled.  Not 

for you anymore, she had reminded him.  There are 

things to do at home.  And he had returned home with 

her. 

     Kirk had lain with her in a field watching lazy 

clouds changing shapes high in the sky.  Always a new 

shape to please the eye, to wonder about, to which he 

could wish to fly.  She had smiled.  So impractical for 

you now, she had reminded him.  Things to do at 

home.  And he had returned home with her. 

     Outside at night he had stood with her on his arm, 

counting the infinity of stars in a clear, cool sky.  She 

had smiled and caressed him.  Made him lose count.  

Gently pulled him toward home.  Still things to be 

done.  And he had returned home with her. 

     They were at home.  It was that time again.  

Punctually she had gone to make them something to 

eat.  What was it he had asked for again?  It probably 

didn't matter.  Practically the same lunch every day.  

At home,  good food, excellently prepared, lovingly 

served, but nearly always the same.  At home,  always 

the same. 

     He was next drawn from his work by the 

appearance of a ship.  His ship.  Enterprise.  A tiny 

speck,  far away, but growing rapidly. 

     It raced toward him, growing, filling his field of 

vision, demanding his attention. 

     It called to him.  "Captain Kirk, please report to the 

bridge." 

     Kirk knew that voice.  It belonged to another 

woman.  Another beautiful woman. 

     A hatch opened on top of the saucer.  Creatures 

were crawling out.  Standing about on top of the 

saucer.  Creatures that he knew. 

     Spock.  McCoy.  Scotty.  Sulu.  Chekov.  Uhura.  Over 

four hundred others.  Calling.  Come with us.  To the 

bridge. 

     "Captain Kirk, please report to the bridge." 

     Kirk couldn't move.  Not sure of what to do.  Where 

did his duty lie?  Home?  Starship? 

     The creatures on the saucer reentered the hatch.  

The ship turned around.  Started to grow smaller.  

Leaving.  Leaving without him.  Leaving without its 

Captain! 

     He jumped up, running after.  Screaming..  "No!" 

     Then, he found himself struggling to escape the 

blanket on his bunk. 

     "Captain Kirk, please respond." 

     Captain James Kirk kicked the blanket aside.  He 

forced his legs over the edge of the bunk and sat up, 

drawing his hands down across his face.  He reached 

out, pressing a button on the intercom.  "I'm on my 

way, Lieutenant." 

     In the privacy of the turbolift Kirk rubbed his eyes.  

He was still the Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, 

leading a crew that had during the last five years 

become the pride of the fleet.  A crew that had proved 

time and time again that it was capable of providing 

him with anything he required.  Anything, it seemed, 

except a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. 

     The fact that he had gotten little sleep didn't 

surprise him.  After all, he hadn't been sleeping well 

the last few weeks anyway.  He supposed that he had 

become caught up in the malaise that had been 

sweeping throughout the ship since the rumors had 

started drifting aboard.  They were nearing the end of 

the five year mission.  The most persistent buzz in the 

fleet grapevine had the Enterprise scheduled for a 

long layover in spacedock for a major overhaul and 

upgrades.  The end of a long mission and the taking 

out of service of the Enterprise could mean 

reassignments for the crew.  For the crew and for him 

it was the end of an era.  What of the future, they were 

probably wondering, as was he.  If he was given 

another ship, Kirk doubted he could ever assemble a 

crew that could match the one he presently led.  When 

the orders finally came through, Kirk doubted that he 

would ever see most of his people again.  He might be 

able to pull a few strings and keep some of his key 

personnel.  But things would never be the same. 

     Kirk checked himself.  He had been thinking about 

the captaincy of another ship.  Most likely that would 

not be Starfleet's first offer to him.  The talk was that 

he was being considered for promotion - to the 

admiralty.  That had seemed to be where his career 

had been taking him.  And then, for the first time, that 

idea started to bother him - the idea that his career 

had been taking him.  Suddenly things became a little 

clearer.  James Kirk, or the career.  Which was in 

charge? 

     The turbolift door opened onto the bridge.  With 

almost superhuman effort Kirk resisted the urge to 

yawn as he stepped out, narrowly missing an impact 

with Dr. McCoy who had been waiting to enter the 

turbolift. 

     "Sorry, Bones," Kirk apologized as he pushed past 

McCoy. 

     McCoy studied Kirk for a moment before venturing, 

"You're still looking a bit rough around the edges, 

Captain.  You should try getting more rest." 

     Kirk turned and studied McCoy, trying to gauge the 

doctor's mood.  When McCoy gave official medical 

advice he was always serious, but sometimes he could 

hide that quality under a smile, making the official 

advice seem more like a suggestion.  Kirk decided that 

this was such a time. 

     Kirk returned McCoy's smile and said, "You've 

given me that advice before, Doctor, and I have tried 

to follow it.  Perhaps you should have a talk with our 

superiors at Starfleet about waking me up in the 

middle of the night." 

     McCoy took a cup of coffee from the yeoman who 

was bringing it to Kirk and followed him to his 

command chair.  Gratefully Kirk accepted the cup 

from McCoy and took a long sip of the steaming black 

liquid. 

     Quietly McCoy said to Kirk, "We both know why 

you can't sleep, Jim.  It's all these rumors about 

promoting you to Admiral.  You're tearing yourself 

apart because you're trying to talk yourself into 

something you really don't want.  Starfleet hasn't even 

made it official yet and you're agonizing over it." 

     "That's all they are at this point, Bones," said Kirk.  

"Just rumors.  But if I was officially notified that I was 

under consideration for the Admiralty, whether or not 

to accept would not be an easy decision for me." 

     "Listen to me, Jim," said McCoy earnestly.  "As your 

friend I can guarantee you won't be happy behind a 

desk.  As your doctor I see what this is doing to you.  

And I've seen that captive look in your eyes before.  

You've had more of those dreams, haven't you?" 

     "We'll have to continue this later, Doctor," said Kirk 

with as much authority as he dared use against one of 

the few people aboard ship who could, with proper 

cause, relieve him of command.  Doctor McCoy was 

leading him into things that had no place on the 

bridge. 

     "At your earliest possible convenience, Captain," 

said McCoy sourly before heading again toward the 

turbolift. 

     In spite of his latest bristly chat with Dr. McCoy, 

Kirk was at last feeling more focused.  He swiveled the 

command chair to face the communications console, 

currently manned by Lieutenant Uhura. 

     "What do you have for me, Lieutenant?" Kirk asked. 

     "We're about to receive a coded message from 

Starfleet Sector Headquarters for you, Sir," she 

replied.  "Commodore Clark is sending." 

     Commodore Clark, Kirk mused.  Federation public 

relations officer, assigned to the trial of the Romulan 

spy, Ksariss.  Clark had been the Federation's 

spokesperson at the press conferences, and had 

handled all communication with the news media 

during the trial proceedings.  Starship Captains in the 

sector had been informed that if Ksariss was found 

guilty, one of them would be chosen to transport her 

from Ketridge Alpha, where the trial was being held, 

to an as yet undisclosed site of incarceration.  And 

they were all secretly hoping to avoid that duty.  

Starfleet had learned that trouble followed Ksariss 

like bad air followed a skunk. 

     Kirk's thoughts were interrupted by the 

appearance of the Starfleet logo on the forward 

viewscreen.  The logo dissolved into the stern image 

of Commodore Clark. 

     "Captain Kirk, of the Enterprise."  Clark's greeting 

had been more of a statement than a question. 

     "Yes, Commodore, what can we do for you?" asked 

Kirk. 

     "In case you haven't heard, the trial's finished," said 

Clark.  "Starfleet got the conviction of Ksariss that it 

wanted." 

     "That's good news," said Kirk, "at least for 

Starfleet." 

     "Captain Kirk, I'm going to do you a favor and cut 

through the bull," asserted Clark.  "Starfleet knows 

that none of you hotshots really wants to ferry this 

lady to prison.  However, it’s a job that needs to be 

done, and it’s a job that you've been selected for.  

Relevant files and an official transcript of your orders 

will follow my transmission.  We wish you the best of 

luck and a safe trip, Captain." 

     A normal star-filled panorama replaced 

Commodore Clark on the viewscreen as Lt. Uhura 

interrupted Kirk's thoughts.  "I have received 

Commodore Clark's transmission, Sir." 

     "Thank you, Lieutenant.  Unscramble the 

transmission and route the files to the terminal in my 

quarters.  I'll sort things out there," said Kirk as he slid 

out of the command chair and headed for the turbolift.   

     Uhura was efficient.  The files were waiting for Kirk 

when he walked into his quarters.  He called the text 

onto his screen and started to read. 

     Ksariss' story, as far as the Federation was 

concerned, began with the advent of the unrest on 

Izar Gamma and Izar Delta, two colonized worlds near 

the Romulan Neutral Zone.  Without any apparent 

provocation, colonists had begun rioting and 

protesting against Federation control of their affairs.  

The initial Federation investigations were unable to 

uncover any substantiated reasons for the colonist's 

belligerent behavior.  In spite of Federation 

invitations to discuss whatever points had suddenly 

aroused the colonists, they remained adamant in 

demanding total and immediate independence. 

Incidents of social unrest occurred more and more 

frequently and involved larger numbers of colonists.  

Finally, in the interest of avoiding unnecessary 

violence, the Federation Council granted the two 

rebellious worlds complete political autonomy. 

     The two newly independent worlds soon fell to 

disputing among themselves.  A mutually declared 

state of war between them soon followed.  Since 

neither planet had developed any advanced 

interplanetary war capabilities, their 'war' was fought 

mostly with words.  In spite of an occasional small 

raid on each other's shipping, neither side inflicted 

nor suffered much damage.  Federation vessels stayed 

away from the sporadic fighting, although they 

patrolled nearby to keep undesirable elements from 

taking unfair advantage of the Izar system's unsettled 

interplanetary situation. 

     Behind the scenes the Federation Council pressed 

for explanations for the puzzling developments.  

When certain radical political groups became linked 

to the development of the unrest on both planets, 

investigators took a closer look at their activities.  It 

was soon discovered that the groups' leaders had 

been meeting often with a Romulan diplomat named 

Ksariss, who was a member of a wealthy and powerful 

family of the Romulan aristocracy.  Her government 

officially classified her as a diplomat, but investigators 

arrived at the undeniable conclusion that Ksariss was 

an undercover operator, specializing in stirring up 

events that resolved themselves in favor of Romulan 

interests.  Her most recent assignment had been to 

head a Romulan plot to weaken Federation influence 

along the Neutral Zone. 

     The Romulans had used Ksariss and her networks 

of anti-Federation political radicals to introduce a 

newly derived strain of virus to the Izar system.  

Colonists exposed to the virus were stricken with a 

short, intense infection which was treated with 

standard medications.  What made this strain of virus 

so useful to the Romulan plotters was that it produced 

traces of a peculiar compound in the blood which 

reacted with the administered anti-viral medications.  

Medical personnel were puzzled when recovering 

colonists suddenly experienced an unanticipated 

period of incoherence, during which they were 

extremely susceptible to suggestions.  That this 

strange development was caused by the reaction of 

the compound with the anti-viral medications was in 

time established.  Colonists who were treated in the 

better facilities near major population centers 

experienced no ill effects from the recovery process.  

However, colonists in the outlying districts who 

received medical treatment from privately maintained 

mobile facilities, which were not regulated or 

monitored as closely as facilities in the population 

centers, received treatment from crews which had 

been infiltrated by agents trained by Ksariss.  At the 

proper time in the recovery process, they were able to 

plant anti-Federation sentiments into the minds of 

their patients.  In this way the seeds of discontent 

washed into the cities from the outlying districts, and 

the aroused multitudes expressing the sentiments of 

their poisoned thoughts eventually won the freedom 

they believed they wanted. 

     Ksariss had reluctantly been allowed to travel 

freely, immune to any action by Federation authorities 

because of her rare designation as a Romulan 

Ambassador-At-Large, a title which neither the 

Romulan intelligence services nor the Romulan Senate 

admitted bestowing upon her.  Secretly it had been 

suspected that she was making illegal clandestine 

journeys, involved in activities which would deny her 

the protection of diplomatic immunity.  This had been 

impossible to prove until a chance piece of 

information learned from an arrested smuggler had 

alerted authorities that she would be attempting to do 

to Starbase Ketridge Alpha what she had done to the 

Izar system.  Her cloaked ship had been fortuitously 

detected approaching Ketridge Alpha, and she had 

been taken into custody. 

     Her trial had been marred by numerous suspicious 

incidents.  Several potential witnesses had 

disappeared leaving no trace.  However, several other 

witnesses who had escaped an attempted kidnapping 

by one of Ksariss' agents did testify in court, 

presenting enough damaging evidence to turn the 

affair against her.  Ksariss was convicted and 

sentenced to prison.  She was to be temporarily held 

at Ketridge Alpha until transportation to a more 

secure facility was arranged.  Shortly after the trial 

Federation authorities were forced to admit to the 

press that a transport ship carrying the departing 

witnesses had disappeared after departing from 

Ketridge Alpha.  Ksariss' response to the press was 

that similar incidents could occur if she was not 

immediately released and pardoned.  The news media, 

driven by its fertile imagination, began to publicly 

speculate about how far the influence of the convicted 

Romulan spy could possibly reach.  Concerned 

Federation officials were also nervously seeking 

answers to that haunting question. 

     Kirk stared at the computer screen.  His orders 

were clear: the Enterprise had been selected to 

transport Ksariss to the maximum security Bantam-

Brooks Penal Facility in the Ellinger's Star system.  

Ellinger's Star was about as far from Romulans as 

anyone could get in Federation space.  Kirk roughly 

calculated that the trip could take several weeks, 

barring any serious complications.  He didn't like the 

feeling that having a dangerous passenger like Ksariss 

entrusted to his care for that amount of time made the 

occurrence of serious complications almost certain. 

         ---- CHAPTER TWO ---- 

     Cham Voxul, the Captain of the rogue freighter 

Prinche Gayul, again nervously checked the displays of 

his external scanning instruments.  He was relieved to 

see that there were apparently no other vessels to be 

found within their effective range. 

     An added module placed over his command station 

console accommodated a bank of video monitors 

which enabled him to observe virtually every area on 

his ship.  He instructed the module's control computer 

to run the monitors through a ship-wide check.  He 

placed a set of headphones over his ears to monitor 

the sounds in the areas being scanned.  In these ways 

he could privately verify that each crew member not 

posted on the bridge was where he was supposed to 

be and actually performing his assigned tasks. 

     Satisfied that everything was secure for the 

moment, Captain Voxul settled back in his chair and 

rubbed his tired eyes.  Since accepting delivery of his 

present cargo Captain Voxul had slept very little. 

     Securely stashed in his ship's safest hold was the 

largest shipment of pragtite gemstones he had ever 

encountered.  Until a few years ago the only known 

source of pragtite gemstones had been an obscure 

moon orbiting a major planet in the Abacore star 

system.  The mining company in the Abacore system 

which controlled the mineral and distribution rights 

to the gemstones was a subsidiary of the Abacore 

system's profit-minded government.  By controlling 

the rate at which the gemstones were released into 

the open market the government was able to keep its 

gemstone prices artificially inflated.  The government 

had controlled this lucrative market until deposits of 

pragtite gemstones were discovered in a neighboring 

star system.  At that time an illegal marketing 

syndicate had developed which smuggled the alien 

gemstones into the Abacore system and sold them on 

the black market handsomely undercutting the 

inflated government prices.  The cargo presently in 

the Prinche Gayul's hold was consigned to that 

marketing syndicate.  This situation gave Captain 

Voxul several serious things to worry about.  

Detection by Abacore patrol vessels would mean 

confiscation of the cargo and a long sentence of forced 

labor in the Abacore government's gemstone mines.  

He also worried that unscrupulous crew members 

might attempt to pad their commissions by stealing 

gemstones from the ship's secure hold.  To have 

anything at all happen to this particular cargo would 

be cause for alarm, as the marketing syndicate was 

rumored to deal harshly with ships’ Captains who 

failed to deliver a complete shipment.  The Captain 

hoped that through his personal vigilance he could 

insure a problem-free journey.  If he could avoid the 

Abacore patrols and maintain the integrity of his 

cargo, at the end of the run he would be a very rich 

ship's Captain. 

     Captain Voxul's thoughts were interrupted by his 

helmsman.  "Captain, something strange on the 

screen.  I can't get a lock on it, and it seems impossible 

to gauge its distance from us.  It's that wavy area," he 

said pointing.  "I've tried several discreet turns, but it 

compensates and holds a position in front of us." 

     Captain Voxul studied the forward screen, and then 

asked, "Are the scanners malfunctioning?" 

     "There should be no errors.  We just had the system 

serviced." 

     "I remember," agreed Voxul.  "Paid the bloodsucker 

enough for his service, too!  Are the scanners even 

picking that up?" 

     "No, Sir.  No readings at all.  What'll we do about it, 

Captain?" 

     "It just stays in front of us, you say?" inquired 

Voxul. 

     "Aye, Sir." 

     "Then bring us to a full stop, but be ready to get 

underway quickly," ordered Captain Voxul.  "Let's just 

see what it does." 

     "Aye, Captain.  Full stop she is." 

     On the screen the wavy area diminished in size for 

a few seconds, and then grew back to its former 

expanse.  Its discreet pattern of waves became more 

aggressive, and then as they began to vanish, the 

outline of an imposing ship began to take shape: a 

saucer-ish midsection with upwardly angled pylons at 

the sides which held, most likely, a warp drive engine 

on the outer end of each one. As it drew nearer it 

angled upward to expose its graphically embellished 

underside which sported a sobering ship-wide image 

of the underside of a Romulan Bird-of-Prey. 

         "Well I'll be. ." sputtered Captain Voxul. 

     A reproachful figure in a military uniform topped 

by a shining tunic appeared on the Prinche Gayul’s 

forward screen, scowling, eyebrows furrowed, and 

inspiring a hint of evil intent with his pointed ears.  "I 

have need of your ship," he said.  "You will quickly 

shut down every system except life support, put away 

all your weapons, and allow my party to board." 

     "Captain," said the helmsman with great concern, 

"there's only one kind of ship I ever heard of that can 

do what that ship just did.  What is a Romulan Bird-Of-

Prey doing this far into Federation space?" 

     "Romulan or not, there's only one ship full of them," 

said Captain Voxul, grimly aware that his precious 

cargo was imperiled.  "Pass out weapons to the crew 

and prepare to repel boarders!  I'll try to stall for a 

little time, or maybe talk them out of whatever they're 

up to." 

      As bridge personnel scrambled to carry out his 

orders Captain Voxul reached out to his console and 

opened a responding communications channel.  "I 

don't know what you're trying to pull off, friend," he 

said bravely to the figure on the screen, "but I'll warn 

you, I am in the employ of a syndicate that's got some 

say in what happens in these parts.  And I can assure 

you, you'll not want to be interfering in their 

business." 

     The menacing figure disappeared from his screen.  

Moments later there were shouts from other parts of 

the ship announcing that boarders had beamed in.  

Captain Voxul heard sounds of weapons fire from his 

crew, and strange sounds that could only have come 

from the boarders' weapons.  Several of the agonized 

screams which eventually filtered to the bridge were 

from voices he recognized. 

     Captain Voxul suddenly spun around in response to 

an eerie sound behind him.  He found three boarders 

who had beamed onto his bridge pointing weapons at 

him.  Suddenly he realized that he had forgotten to 

arm himself.  The eerie sound came again, and then 

the man who had demanded his surrender on the 

screen was standing on his bridge. 

     Thinking of the terrible revenge the syndicate 

would extract from the rash alien, Captain Voxul 

threatened, "You'll regret this, Romulan!" 

     The Romulan rushed forward and tightly grasped 

Captain Voxul by his throat.  Voxul instinctively 

brought his hands up to the Romulan's wrist, and 

found that he could not weaken the powerful 

tenacious grip. 

     "Order your crew to surrender!" hissed the 

Romulan fiercely. 

     Voxul considered whether dying at the hand of an 

angry Romulan was worse than facing the syndicate's 

enforcers.  He decided that being killed by the 

Romulan was the quickest solution to his dilemma.  

He remained silent. 

     A Romulan Centurion trotted onto the bridge and 

saluted.  "Commander, the ship is secured.  We have 

ten prisoners who surrendered." 

     "Very good, Centurion," smiled the Romulan 

Commander through clenched teeth.  He relaxed his 

grip on the Captain Voxul's neck and said, "The wiser 

members of your crew have decided that you shall 

live." 

     Several minutes after the Romulan Commander had 

completely loosed his grip on his neck Captain Voxul 

asked, "What do you want with my ship?" 

     "I simply require your ship, and you," said the 

Commander secretively.  "The reason shall remain 

mine to reveal for the time being.  As for your crew, 

there is a barely habitable planetoid near here.  They 

will be placed there with several weeks’ provisions, 

along with a transmitter which will reveal their 

location after one of your weeks has passed.  That is 

all you need to know for the present." 

     The Commander turned to the Centurion and 

directed, "Take all the prisoners to our ship and 

confine them.  Treat them well if they behave."  He 

then looked at Captain Voxul, sneered wickedly, and 

then added, "Keep this one apart from the others." 

*   *   * 

     After the trial on Ketridge Alpha, Ksariss had 

enjoyed almost unhindered access to the news media.  

She had continued making her threats, and had 

boasted that she would never see the inside of 

Bantam-Brooks.  Ketridge Alpha's Commanding 

Officer, Commodore Barry, had taken her threats 

seriously.  He had been shocked to learn that classified 

information which identified the ship chosen to 

transport Ksariss to Bantam-Brooks was openly 

circulating both on and off the base.  Barry blamed the 

media for this latest breach of security.  The reporters 

who had been underfoot since the Ksariss business 

began had been relentlessly foraging for any new 

triviality to build into a major news event.  Under his 

breath he cursed the reporters who would not let the 

story die a natural death, and then he promised 

himself that as soon as the troublesome spy was out of 

his hair, he would instruct his security and legal 

advisors to find ways to tighten his base’s security. 

                   *   *   * 

     Captain Kirk scrawled his signature on the report 

which had been presented for his approval and passed 

it back to the pretty Ensign who would efficiently file 

it with the rest of its genre.  "How long until we reach 

Ketridge Alpha, Ensign Chekov?" he asked. 

     Ensign Pavel Chekov, navigator, studied his panel 

and turned to face Kirk.  "I estimate in a little over an 

hour, Captain." 

     "Thank you, Ensign," replied Kirk.  "Mr. Sulu, when 

we arrive at the starbase, assume a standard orbit." 

     "Aye, Sir.  Standard orbit programmed in," said the 

helmsman, Lt. Hikaru Sulu. 

     "Captain," interrupted Lt. Uhura, "I'm picking up a 

civilian news broadcast from Ketridge Alpha.  Perhaps 

you should hear it." 

     "Very well, Lieutenant.  Put it on screen." 

     A greying, distinguished anchorman from a 

prominent news service, seated behind a large, dark 

desk was reading from a low monitor in front of him 

at his desk.  "... and sources close to the Starbase 

Commander, Commodore Barry, have informed us 

that the convicted Romulan spy, Ksariss, will be taken 

to the Bantam-Brooks facility aboard the U.S.S 

Enterprise.  Commodore Barry has refused to 

comment on why the Enterprise was chosen, but, if I 

may be permitted a moment of editorial comment ..." 

     "Why not just tell the whole quadrant the rest of 

the plans for our secret mission?" sarcastically blurted 

Chekov while waving a hand through the air. 

     "Thank you, Mr. Chekov," interrupted Kirk, "but I'm 

sure the media will need no suggestions from my 

bridge on how to make our job more difficult." 

     "Sorry, Sir," apologized Chekov. 

     "It would seem that we have lost some of our 

element of surprise," observed First Officer Spock. 

     "So it would seem," agreed Kirk.  "Mr. Spock, a word 

with you in private, please," Kirk said as he arose and 

headed for the turbolift.  "Mr. Sulu, you have the 

bridge." 

                                  *   *   * 

     Commodore Barry rushed into the main Starbase 

transporter room anxiously checking the wall-

mounted chronometer.  To his relief he was just in 

time to receive the Enterprise's Captain Kirk as he 

beamed down.  Barry knew people who knew Kirk.  

Most of them were of the opinion that James Kirk was 

someone he would enjoy meeting. 

     Right on schedule the transporter began to hum, 

and the colored lights danced on the transporter pad.  

Barry took a deep breath and stepped forward to 

shake the hand -- of someone who was definitely not 

James Kirk. 

     "Good day, Sir," said the unanticipated man in a 

thick Scottish brogue as he stepped off the transporter 

pad and shook Barry's hand. 

     "Er, good day, er, Commander," stammered Barry.  

Regaining his composure, he said, "Please, excuse me.  

I thought you would be Captain Kirk." 

     "Aye," said the man who was still pumping his hand 

and smiling like a professional goodwill ambassador, 

"I can understand your expecting the Captain, and he 

does send his apologies.  With your permission, Sir, I 

am Lt. Commander Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer 

of the U.S.S Enterprise." 

     "Pleased to meet you, Mt. Scott," said Barry.  "You 

oversee a fine ship, from what I'm told." 

     "Aye," beamed Scott, who had been inspired to an 

even grander smile, "that she is, Sir.  That she is!" 

     "So tell me, why hasn't Captain Kirk beamed down 

himself?" Barry asked. 

     Scott's smile faded, his face becoming apologetic.  

"The Captain hopes that I can make the necessary 

arrangements for the transfer of your prisoner 

without drawing too much unnecessary attention," he 

explained.  "You see, Sir, we've monitored the news 

broadcasts .. " 

     "I understand, Mr. Scott.  Unfortunately, security 

hasn't been easy to maintain down here," Barry 

explained.  "We've been literally tripping over 

reporters for months.  Some of them are the best in 

their business." 

     "I know what you're saying," said Scott.  

"Sometimes they're a royal pain in the duff, but then 

again, sometimes they do prove their worth." 

     Barry would not contradict Scott on that point.  

Instead he gestured toward the door and said, "Come 

this way, Mr. Scott.  We're soon scheduled to start a 

meeting to arrange for our prisoner's transfer to your 

custody." 

     Fifteen minutes and several introductions later 

Barry and Scott had joined the rest of Barry's staff in 

their conference room.  Barry took him around 

introducing him to each of his staff members, saving 

his security chief for last.  "This is an introduction I'm 

proud to make," he said to Scott.  "Meet Lt. 

Commander Barbara Joy, our head of security.  She led 

the squad that took Ksariss into custody." 

     "That's quite a feather for your hat," said Scott 

pleasantly. 

     "Thank you, Mr. Scott," she said with a smile.  "But 

honestly, we practically owe our success to plain old 

dumb luck." 

     "I've run into an old proverb that says: 'whenever 

your opponent blinks is the best time to stick your 

finger in his eye'," observed Scott. 

     "So true," laughed Lt. Commander Joy.  "We do try 

to make the most of the breaks we get." 

     The group walked to a nearby secure conference 

room where Commodore Barry said, "I believe we've 

all been introduced now.  Everybody, please take your 

seats so we can get to our business." 

     When everyone was seated, Commodore Barry 

called the meeting to order.  "First of all," he said, "an 

apology is in order to the crew of the Enterprise.  

Word has unfortunately leaked out that the Enterprise 

will be taking the spy, Ksariss, to Bantam-Brooks." 

     "Captain Kirk is aware of this development," Scott 

replied, "but he still believes that with proper 

planning and precautions we can retain control over 

any situation which could develop." 

     "Now that's a welcome positive assessment," said 

Barry.  "How soon will Captain Kirk be ready to beam 

the prisoner up to the Enterprise?" 

     "That's one of the things I'm supposed to talk to you 

about," said Scott.  "Captain Kirk believes that there 

are disadvantages to transferring the prisoner by 

transporter." 

     "What does he mean by 'disadvantages'?" asked 

Barry. 

     "Captain Kirk is concerned about the possibility of a 

cloaked Romulan ship somehow interfering with the 

transporter beam," explained Scott.  "If we'd lose the 

beam and she'd end up on one of their ships - well, all 

I need say about that is that cloaked Romulan ships 

are not always the easiest things to find, much less 

track." 

     "Does Captain Kirk have an alternate proposal?" 

asked Barry. 

     "You have a squad of armed shuttle craft on base," 

said Scott.  "Captain Kirk suggests that Ksariss be 

placed into one of these armed shuttles and flown up 

to the Enterprise.  The other armed shuttles could be 

used to provide a protective escort.  Meaning no 

offense, Commodore, but in light of the base's current 

security problems, knowledge of which shuttle would 

carry the prisoner would be restricted to only those 

who had a need to know." 

     "Armed shuttles.  Protective escort," muttered 

Barry as he thought about what Scott had proposed.  

"Maybe your Captain has a good idea here, Mr. Scott: 

doing things the opposition wouldn't expect.  We're 

going to go with Captain Kirk's plan.  Barbara, have 

your people make the arrangements, and remember, 

sensitive information only to those who need to 

know." 

     While Barry's staff gathered their papers and left 

the conference room Scott stayed seated. 

     "Is there something else you wanted, Mr. Scott?" 

Barry asked. 

     "Aye.  I'd very much like a private word with you, 

Sir." 

     "What is this about, Lt. Commander?" 

     "It's about your security leaks," Scott revealed. 

     "We haven't had time to work up and implement 

the necessary changes, or find the sources of the 

leaks," said Barry.  "Why did you bring them up 

again?" 

     "Because, Sir, Captain Kirk doesn't feel it will hurt if 

word of this secret shuttle transfer plan gets around," 

said Scott.  "In fact, he's counting on it.  With your 

permission, Sir, I'd like to discuss the real reason I'm 

here." 

                                            *   *   * 

     Aboard the Enterprise at the expected departure 

time of the armed shuttle flight, Lt. Uhura was 

listening on a previously arranged frequency.  Her 

eyes snapped open as a communications link was 

suddenly established.  "Incoming transmission from 

Commodore Barry, Sir," she announced to Kirk. 

     "Put it on screen, Lieutenant," Kirk replied. 

     “The viewscreen showed Commodore Barry in his 

office, seated behind his desk.  Appearing distressed, 

he was looking off to one side as if he was receiving 

news he did not want to hear. 

     "I'm sorry, Captain Kirk," he finally said, "we're 

experiencing delays.  It looks like it will be at least 

another hour and forty-five minutes before the 

shuttles can lift off." 

     Kirk looked straight at the forward viewscreen.  "It 

looks like you're running a sloppy ship today, Sir.  

However, when you're ready, we'll be here." 

     "My undying gratitude, Captain!" said Barry 

sarcastically before giving the signal to cut off his 

transmission. 

     Kirk could almost feel himself being pummeled by 

the unspoken questions which accompanied the 

confused looks on the faces of the bridge crew.  He 

busied himself, quickly signing another item of 

paperwork which had suddenly appeared. 

     The bridge crew, expecting the long delay promised 

by Commodore Barry, began to settle into more 

comfortable positions in the chairs at their stations.  

They were all surprised when Spock announced, "The 

Ketridge Alpha shuttle convoy has just lifted off, 

Captain." 

     "Thank you, Mr. Spock," Kirk replied.  "Please alert 

the security detachment in the shuttle bay that the 

anticipated cargo will arrive shortly.  I'm going down 

there.  You have the bridge." 

     After Spock's acknowledgement Kirk arose and 

walked toward the turbolift.  Still mystified by the 

recent exchange between Kirk and Barry, Chekov 

turned around at his station and said, "I don't 

understand, Captain .. " 

     Kirk stopped and smiled.  "A little ruse, Mr. Chekov.  

The word 'delays' means 'no problems'.  The time 

period 'hour and forty-five minutes' actually means 'a 

minute and forty-five seconds'." 

     The precision shuttle convoy gracefully ascended 

from the planet's surface and achieved orbit.  A short 

time later it approached the Enterprise, moving into a 

protective formation around one of its members 

which gradually overtook the starship's slowly 

opening shuttle bay door.  In an exquisitely timed 

ballet, the approaching shuttle entered the bay at 

exactly the same time the bay doors had fully opened.  

Kirk arrived in the shuttle bay control room in time to 

see the armed shuttle carefully settling onto the deck.  

When the bay doors had closed again atmosphere was 

reestablished in the area.  Kirk went to wait beside the 

shuttle, and greeted Commodore Barry who stepped 

out the shuttle door when it opened. 

     "I trust you had a pleasant flight, Commodore," said 

Kirk offering his hand. 

     "Pleasant enough, Captain," Barry replied.  "It looks 

as if the first phase of our little scheme is working as 

planned.  I can't say enough how relieved I'll be when 

this whole affair is finished." 

     Minutes before, Dr. McCoy, as ordered, had arrived 

in the Enterprise's transporter room.  At the 

transporter controls Lt. Commander Scott watched as 

McCoy arranged things he would need on a small 

portable table.  As he worked, McCoy glowered at 

Scott and a team of security officers who were 

watching him and grumbled, "I hope this won't take 

all day.  In a proper medical practice it's the doctor 

who keeps the patients waiting." 

     Scott grinned before his attention was diverted by a 

summons from the bridge.  "Has our ship's doctor 

arrived yet, Mr. Scott?" inquired the voice of Mr. 

Spock. 

     "Aye, he's here," Scott replied, "and in good spirits, 

as usual." 

     "Excellent," said Spock.  "Please inform the doctor 

that a patient is about to be beamed aboard from the 

Starbase infirmary.  His orders are to please make the 

patient as comfortable as is prudent.  Spock out." 

     The shimmering lights of the transporter came 

alive as Scott handled the controls on his panel.  The 

figure materializing appeared to be a sleeping 

mummy in a wheelchair. 

     When the reassembly phase had finished, McCoy 

pulled his table to the wheelchair and began carefully 

removing the facial bandages.  The sleeping face of 

Ksariss, partially obscured by an oxygen mask, was 

revealed.  He injected a hypo of stimulant into her 

neck.  Her eyes opened, and McCoy loosened the 

straps of the oxygen mask while holding it in place.  

He turned to hunt for something on the table and 

suddenly felt an intense, sharp, grinding pain in his 

right little finger.  He dropped the mask and cried out, 

whirling around to find that Ksariss had bitten him!  

She had more than just bitten him - she was sawing 

with grim determination on her prize, trying to tear it 

from his hand!  McCoy reached around the back of her 

head and grasped her jaw.  Angrily he pulled down 

with little thought to the possibility he might actually 

hurt his patient.  He quickly managed to free himself.  

Ksariss struggled against her restraints, rocking the 

wheelchair and nearly toppling it off the transporter 

platform.  The two security officers rushed in to 

steady her.  Seeing that she had reached a point of 

getting nowhere, she ended the incident by spitting on 

McCoy's shoes. 

     As McCoy assessed the damage to himself he 

noticed that Kirk and Commodore Barry had arrived 

in time to witness the embarrassing affair. 

     The security officers moved Ksariss away from the 

transporter platform.  "Let's take our passenger to her 

quarters, gentlemen," Kirk ordered.  "And please, be 

careful." 

     Kirk then turned his attention to the injured doctor.  

"Care to tell us where you acquired your caring 

bedside manner, Doctor?" 

     "In veterinary school, if it's any of your business," 

McCoy returned sharply while applying a dressing to 

his aching finger. 

     Kirk laughed.  "I'm no Doctor, Bones, but it looks to 

me as though you'll survive," he offered in 

consolation.  "And as your injury isn't incapacitating, 

I'll need you down in detention to oversee the settling 

in of our passenger.  Kind of make sure there are no 

residual effects from her sedation.  Think you can 

handle it?" 

     "I can handle it, Captain, if you can have somebody 

stationed at the cell door with a tranquilizer gun!" 

     "Excuse me, Captain," interrupted a smirking and 

relieved Commodore Barry, "I see that you have 

everything under control here.  I really must be 

returning to Ketridge Alpha." 

     "Of course, Commodore," said Kirk.  "I'll see you 

back to the shuttle bay while my officers see that our 

guest's special needs are being met." 

                           ---- CHAPTER  THREE  ---- 

     Still restrained in her wheelchair, Ksariss was 

escorted by the armed security detachment to the 

Enterprise's detention section.  As her remaining 

restraints were removed she sat silently and 

emotionlessly, glaring into the maximum security cell 

into which she would be placed.  Dr. McCoy scanned 

her with his medical tricorder verifying that the 

sedative administered to her before transporting off 

Ketridge Alpha had been completely neutralized.  He 

then placed the instrument safely out of reach so that 

it could not be used as a weapon against himself or a 

member of the security detachment.  To assist her out 

of the wheelchair McCoy cautiously offered her his 

right hand - the one with a bandaged finger.  "These 

are to be your quarters, Madam," he said. 

     Without shifting her eyes from the rear wall of the 

cell she disdainfully brushed McCoy's arm aside and 

smartly stood on her feet.  If she was aware that a 

nervous security officer had placed his hand on his 

phaser in response to her action she gave no outward 

indication of it.  She remained in place for a moment, 

testing her reaction to the act of standing.  She felt 

perfectly normal, and was forced to concede that 

perhaps the Federation barbarians had at least one 

individual, the Doctor, who knew what he was doing.  

Before McCoy had time to say anything more or 

attempt to touch her again to prompt her movement 

toward the cell door she mustered her remaining 

dignity and entered the cell.  She gracefully slid onto 

the bunk, leaning back against the wall with her arms 

folded.  And there she remained, unmoving, and 

uncharacteristically quiet. 

     One of the security officers smugly engaged the 

force field over the cell door, and watching the 

Romulan woman inside, slowly stepped back to stand 

beside McCoy.  "She looks like a caged leopard," he 

said softly to McCoy, "lazing in a corner, one eye half 

open, watching, maybe waiting.  What do you suppose 

she's waiting for?" 

     "She's waiting for one of the zookeepers to make 

some stupid mistake," McCoy warned.  He showed the 

security officer his right hand and said, "Watch out for 

her.  She bites!" 

     On the bridge Kirk was mentally reviewing all the 

preparations which had been made, again trying to 

reassure himself that no important detail had been 

overlooked.  He could think of nothing else which 

needed to be done.  Security and all other 

departments had reported to the bridge that 

everything was ready for departure.  Kirk turned 

around to look at Spock who was busy at his station. 

     "Any last thoughts, Mr. Spock?" he asked. 

     "None, Captain," Spock answered.  "The ship awaits your orders." 

     "Then it seems that we are at least prepared for the 

expected," said Kirk.  He pressed a button on the arm 

of the command chair, opening a channel to address 

the entire ship.  "Attention, all hands.  This is the 

Captain.  I need not remind you of how seriously this 

mission needs to be taken.  From this moment on, stay 

alert.  Expect the unexpected.  Remember that we are 

the crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise.  I have every 

confidence in our continued commitment to 

excellence.  We all know our jobs - let's do them well 

and make this ship proud to have carried us.  Kirk 

out." 

     Kirk looked around the bridge.  Everyone was 

ready and waiting, and it was time to be underway.  

"Mr. Sulu, lay in your course for the Bantam-Brooks 

facility and take us out of orbit.  Ahead, warp factor 

two when we are clear." 

     The Enterprise leisurely moved out of its orbit 

around Ketridge Alpha, accelerating easily under 

impulse power until it had cleared the star system.  

Sulu then brought the ship to warp two and onto the 

heading of the first segment of its trip to Bantam-

Brooks.  It had been planned that on this voyage the 

Enterprise would adhere to a strict schedule, checking 

in at specified times with key starbases along their 

planned route. 

     The first few days passed without incident and the 

crew started settling into their routines.  As the 

Enterprise had traveled farther away from the Neutral 

Zone the crew's early feelings of nervous anticipation 

had given way to feelings of relief, and of being more 

in control of events.  This change in attitude 

concerned Kirk.  He contemplated scheduling a series 

of drills and inspections across all the duty shifts, 

hoping to hone the crew's attitudes and reflexes back 

to a razor-edged keenness.  He then decided against 

this course of action realizing that focusing the crew's 

attention away from alert monitoring of everything 

around them could possibly do more harm than good. 

     Instead of formal inspections Kirk started an 

informal tour of the ship.  As he moved among the 

duty stations he found things in an excellent state of 

readiness.  He tried to project a casual, friendly aura 

as he talked with crewmembers, complimenting them 

on what he found, and pressing upon them the 

importance of the heightened vigilance that he felt the 

mission called for. 

     In time he found himself in McCoy's medical 

department.  He stuck his head into McCoy's office, 

interrupting the Doctor as he asked, "Mind if I exercise 

Captain's privilege and look around a little?" 

      "Not at all," McCoy replied without looking up. 

     Only a few minutes later Kirk returned to stand 

before McCoy's desk.  McCoy pushed his computer 

monitor aside and asked, "Finished looking around 

already, Captain?" 

      Kirk stifled a yawn before answering, "It didn't 

take long to see that everything is up to your usual 

high standards, Doctor." 

     "I knew that's what you'd find," McCoy smiled.  

"When my nurses heard you were conducting a 

surprise inspection they scurried around like madmen 

trying to clean up a few out-of-place items." 

     "Inspection, Doctor?" queried Kirk with an impish 

grin.  "I never announced an inspection." 

     "Well, whatever you're calling this little stroll 

through the ship, that's how it's being received," said 

McCoy.  "Your arrivals have not been, and will not be 

unanticipated." 

     "Thanks for the warning," Kirk said as he attempted 

to hide another yawn, "but I have to be moving along." 

     "One minute, please, Captain," said McCoy as he 

stood and walked toward Kirk.  "I know what you're 

trying to do, and I applaud the idea, but don't you 

think your department heads could finish this job just 

as well?" 

     The first syllable of Kirk's reply hadn't even been 

uttered before McCoy pressed ahead toward the point 

he had been hoping to make.  "In this country doctor's 

opinion, Captain, you've been neglecting your 

biological needs.  Why, if I didn't know better I'd 

suspect that you were afraid to close your eyes out of 

fear that your Enterprise would disappear if you did.  

Are you remembering that you've been handed an 

assignment that could still blow up in your face?  

You're probably taking some high-ranking Romulan's 

girlfriend to prison, and nobody in Starfleet expects 

the Romulans to take that lying down.  Now that 

sounds to me like a convincing argument for alert 

officers.  Jim, it's time for you to get some rest." 

     "But, Bones, I've started this tour - I really should 

finish it." 

     "If you keep brushing aside my advice then surely 

one of my worst nightmares will come true," forecast 

McCoy as his eyes arched toward the ceiling and he 

spread his arms.  "The ship I am serving on gets blown 

across the galaxy because its Captain has fallen asleep 

on the bridge.  It's not a pretty picture, Jim." 

     "I guess I have been trying to do it all," admitted Kirk. 

     "You mean you're actually going to take my medical 

advice?" mocked McCoy. 

     Kirk smiled.  "After a short meeting with my 

department heads, Doctor.  Then I'll be off to my 

quarters." 

     "And some rest!" McCoy reminded. 

*   *   * 

     Kirk stirred in his bunk.  It seemed as though his 

eyes had only just closed before he had become aware 

of Spock's voice calling him on the intercom.  "I am 

sorry to disturb you, Captain, but your presence is 

required on the bridge." 

     "Acknowledged, Spock.  I'm on my way." 

     When Kirk stepped out of the turbolift he saw 

Spock leaning forward in the command chair, intently 

studying the forward viewscreen.  He approached the 

command chair and asked, "Is there a problem, Mr. 

Spock?" 

     "Possibly, Captain," Spock replied as he 

surrendered the command chair to Kirk.  "There is a 

visual anomaly on the forward viewscreen which does 

not show up on our sensors.  I have taken the liberty 

of checking for equipment malfunctions.  None were 

found." 

     "What does this anomaly do?" Kirk asked. 

     "It appears as you now see it - a small distortion," 

Spock explained.  "It remains discernable for a time 

and then disappears.  There seems to be no pattern to 

its appearances and disappearances." 

     "If this anomaly is real, what would you say is its 

range?" Kirk asked. 

     "I could only provide a guess," said Spock 

hesitantly. 

     "Indulge me," Kirk coaxed. 

     Spock took in a slow breath and studied the 

viewscreen again.  "Extreme sensor range is as far as I 

am willing to speculate," stated Spock as the 

distortion vanished from the screen. 

     "Thank you, Mr. Spock," Kirk acknowledged as he 

looked back at the viewscreen.  "Would you care to 

speculate as to the nature of the anomaly?" 

     "It resembles certain phenomena I have 

encountered. ." Spock ventured. 

     "What phenomenon would you say it most 

resembles?" Kirk asked. 

     "In my opinion, it most resembles a cloaked ship, 

Captain." 

     "Thank you for your candor, Mr. Spock," said Kirk.  

"Frankly, I quite agree.  Perhaps it is time to test our 

theory.  Mr. Sulu, bring the ship to starboard ten 

degrees.  Hold that heading for thirty minutes, and 

then steer us to the coordinates of our first 

checkpoint.  Adjust our speed to make sure we get 

there on time.  Lt. Uhura, notify Starfleet of our change 

in course and our reason for doing so.  Code the 

message Priority One." 

     For the next ten minutes the distortion stayed with 

the Enterprise, playing a cat-and-mouse game, 

appearing and disappearing.  Then, unexpectedly, it 

failed to reappear.  At the end of the half hour on the 

alternate heading Sulu adjusted their heading and 

speed and arrived at the first checkpoint exactly on 

schedule.  Upon passing the checkpoint Kirk learned 

that Starfleet was concerned enough about their 

'shadow' to place tracking stations along their route 

on full alert.  Clearance was given for the ship to 

proceed to its next checkpoint. 

     More time passed uneventfully as the Enterprise 

traveled deeper into Federation territory and farther 

away from the Neutral Zone and the Romulan Empire.  

Suddenly Uhura interrupted the steady buzz of 

activity on the bridge.  "Captain, I am picking up a 

distress call from a freighter, the Prinche Gayul.  The 

ship's Captain reports serious fuel reactant leaks in 

the engine compartment." 

     Kirk sat erect in his chair.  "Let's hear it, 

Lieutenant." 

     The flickering image of a bruised, panic-stricken, 

heavily sweating man wearing a soiled and worn 

commercial ship's Captain's hat appeared on the 

viewscreen.  The man obviously hadn't seen a razor in 

days.  His eyes were wide open with terror as his gaze 

darted among several off-screen points.  "Anybody out 

there - you've got to help me!" he pleaded.  "Get me 

out of here before this ship blows itself apart!" 

     The transmission faded into a burst of static and 

noise. 

     "Get him back, Lieutenant!" Kirk ordered.  "I need a fix on the source of his transmission." 

     "I already have the coordinates, Captain," Uhura 

reported. 

     "Captain," interrupted Spock from his station, 

"there is no record of a flight plan for any ship of that 

registry.  I must also point out that all commercial 

traffic was supposed to have been routed away from 

our anticipated route to Bantam-Brooks." 

     "Thank you, Mr. Spock," said Kirk thoughtfully.  

"This appears suspicious, but if there's any chance 

someone is in trouble on that ship. ."   Kirk considered 

his options for a moment.  "We will not ignore a 

distress call.  Bring the ship to yellow alert.  Keep the 

shields up, but stay ready to lower them if we need to 

use the transporters.  Lt. Uhura, advise Starfleet of our 

situation.  Tell them that we are investigating a 

distress call and request anything they can provide to 

back us up.  Mr. Sulu, take us to the Prinche Gayul.  I 

want full scans, set all sensors on maximum." 

     The Enterprise approached the Prinche Gayul 

cautiously at one quarter impulse power.  Sensor 

readings consistently showed nothing more than a 

freighter dead in space.  Except for minimal life 

support on the bridge maintained from failing 

batteries, all its systems were shut down.  Radiation 

leaking from the engine compartment made it 

impossible to scan for other life forms on the vessel.  

There had been time to do no more than gather this 

preliminary information before a bright explosion 

erupted from the far side of the freighter and sent it 

tumbling toward the Enterprise. 

     "Red alert!  Get us out of the way, Mr. Sulu!" Kirk 

ordered. 

     As the Enterprise glided above the path of the 

cartwheeling freighter, Chekov watched it rolling by 

on the viewscreen.  "Look at the metal in the area of 

the explosion," he indicated.  "Whatever caused that 

came from outside the vessel!" 

     "Captain Kirk, I have communications with the 

Prinche Gayul," Uhura reported. 

     On the viewscreen was the same unshaved ship's 

Captain who had apparently suffered additional 

injuries from the explosion.  "Why didn't you hurry?" 

he gasped.  "They said they would blow up my ship 

when they left.  You could have stopped them. Help 

me now before they come back!” 

     Uhura's communication link faded again and the 

image of the freighter's battered interior was replaced 

with a view of it tumbling against the stars and 

blackness of space.  Kirk was compelled to attempt a 

rescue of the vessel's survivors. 

     "Transporter room, can you lock on to any 

survivors in that freighter?" he demanded. 

     "Just barely, Sir.  We show one survivor on the 

bridge." 

     "We'll drop our shields long enough to beam the 

survivor on board," Kirk decided.  "Mr. Sulu, drop 

shields - now!" 

     The Enterprise's shields dropped and her 

transporter locked onto the body of the Prinche 

Gayul's Captain.  At that moment the one thing Kirk 

least expected to see materialized behind the 

tumbling wreck of the freighter. 

     A Romulan Bird Of Prey became visible, its form 

stabilizing as its cloaking field dissipated in 

diminishing waves of distortion.  Kirk mentally 

chastised himself for having ordered the Enterprise's 

shields lowered.  No longer cloaked, the Romulan 

ship's power was now available for its weapons 

systems, and the Enterprise lay fully exposed in its 

sights until the transporter finished pulling the 

survivor out of the freighter.  Kirk recognized the 

design of the Romulan vessel, a product of the latest 

treaties and technological exchanges between the 

Klingons and the Romulans.  It was a vessel carrying 

powerful plasma disruptors and accurate torpedoes, 

easily an equal in firepower to the Enterprise.  At this 

close range Kirk expected his ship to be raked by 

disruptor fire.  Instead, an intruder alert sounded, and 

the Romulan ship started firing into the hull of the 

Prinche Gayul. 

     As Spock dispatched a security team to investigate 

the intruder alert Kirk reopened the channel to the 

transporter room.  "Do you have that survivor on 

board yet?" he demanded. 

     "We're trying, Sir!  They keep firing at the freighter.  

The resulting proximity interference makes it almost 

impossible to maintain our transporter lock." 

     "Whatever can be done, do it quickly.  I need to get 

the shields up!" admonished Kirk.  "Mr. Sulu, as soon 

as the transporter gets that survivor..." 

     "Understood, Captain," affirmed Sulu.  His hand 

hovered over his panel, ready to reengage the shields.  

Meanwhile, Chekov had established a weapons lock 

on the Romulan ship.  As soon as the Captain of the 

freighter was safely on board they would deal with the 

Romulan ship. 

     The commanding officer of the Romulan warship, 

Talon, was a tall, solidly-built man.  His name was 

Commander Kohbrah.  He was intelligent and well-

schooled and had earned his command as a reward 

for an inspiring act of heroism early in his service 

career.  He sat on the bridge of the Talon excitedly 

watching the initial phases of his plan unfold. 

     Through his connections in the Romulan High 

Command, Kohbrah had learned of the capture of the 

agent Ksariss.  After seeing a picture of her he had 

volunteered to lead the effort to reclaim her from 

Federation custody.  His sources had informed him 

that Ksariss was rich and powerful, and known to 

bestow gifts and favors upon those who served her in 

time of need.  The only discernable inconvenience to 

involving himself in her life was her 'attachment' to a 

prominent member of the Romulan Senate.  Snatching 

her back from Federation authorities would certainly 

net him wealth and promotions.  But Kohbrah desired 

more: a marriage - at least one lasting long enough to 

entrench him as a recognized member of the Empire's 

elite ruling class.  In Kohbrah's eyes there was a 

chance that by rescuing Ksariss he could cause her to 

become sufficiently smitten by his bravery and his 

apparent commitment to her that she would dissolve 

her attachment to the senator and bond in matrimony 

to him.  If the marriage proved harmonious, so much 

the better.  And if not, Romulan law insured that he 

would be amply compensated for the time he had 

invested.  His was an inspired plan, and at the moment 

Kohbrah was delighted because his plan had 

progressed flawlessly. 

     A Romulan agent on Ketridge Alpha had supplied 

the name of the ship and the route it would take in 

transporting Ksariss to prison.  Originally Kohbrah 

had planned to secretly follow that ship until it had 

reached a remote point in its journey.  He had then 

hoped to decloak, disable the ship, and demand 

Ksariss' release before dashing back to the Neutral 

Zone with a grateful passenger who would be the key 

to his future.  His plans had changed, however, when 

he had stumbled onto the decrepit old freighter which, 

according to his best information, wasn't expected to 

be in that area in the first place.  A minimal boarding 

party had easily taken over the vessel.  Kohbrah had 

then removed the crew, except for the Captain, and 

had the freighter towed to coordinates near the 

anticipated path of the Enterprise.  He had then 

ordered the freighter's engines sabotaged, and a 

remotely detonated explosive charge was affixed to its 

outer hull.  Then leaving the Captain aboard to 

broadcast a distress call, Kohbrah cloaked his warship 

and lay in wait for the Federation Starship carrying 

Ksariss. 

     As planned, the Enterprise had responded to the 

distress call.  When the Enterprise had dropped its 

shields to attempt transporting the freighter's Captain 

off his ship, Kohbrah had ordered the explosive device 

on the freighter's hull detonated.  The Talon had then 

decloaked and had begun firing into the freighter's 

hull to confound the Enterprise's rescue attempt while 

simultaneously beaming onto the Enterprise an elite 

team of warriors who would attempt to liberate 

Ksariss from confinement. 

     The Romulan rescue team was beamed to a 

corridor one deck below the detention area holding 

Ksariss.  No sooner had they materialized and looked 

around than an alarm sounded.  Knowing that 

someone would soon be sent to investigate, the team 

leader motioned toward a nearby turbolift.  The four 

team members scrambled inside and the door closed 

after them.  It had previously been decided not to try 

directing turbolift by voice command.  Instead, one of 

the team members pried off an access panel, studied 

the circuitry inside, and attempted a connection to 

force the turbolift's ascent.  With a small discharge of 

sparks the turbolift started downward.  The surprised 

team leader quickly reached around the astonished 

technician and disabled the connection, leaving the 

turbolift stranded between decks.  His venomous glare 

warned the technician that his next connection had 

better be the right one.  The technician's next choice of 

terminals achieved the desired effect with the 

turbolift stopping on the detention area deck.   

      The Enterprise security team sent by Spock to 

investigate the intruder alert had guessed that 

Ksariss' cell would be the intruders' objective.  The 

curious behavior of the turbolift had pointed to where 

the intruders would appear on the detention area 

deck.  When the door of the turbolift opened the 

Romulan rescue team found itself confronted by half-

a-dozen Enterprise security officers who opened fire 

first.  Their first round of phaser fire floored the 

technician who had worked in the access panel.  The 

three remaining Romulans were superb marksmen.  

Their return fire in short order left four members of 

the Enterprise's team lying on the deck.  The two 

remaining Enterprise officers hastily withdrew behind 

a corner in the corridor leaving the door to the 

detention area unguarded from the outside.  The 

Romulan team leader ordered his men to don gas 

masks, and when they were in place he tossed a 

repulsing gas grenade down the corridor to move the 

two surviving security officers farther back. 

      A member of the Romulan team took a position on 

each side of the detention area doorway while the 

third member moved to guard the corridor.  A small 

charge of explosives was secured to the door and its 

timer was activated.  As the two Romulans at the door 

rolled away, the charge went off and forced the door 

violently inward.  As the smoke was clearing the two 

Romulan team members flung themselves through the 

opening while firing their disruptors.  They blasted 

their way through the outer office to the inner 

chamber where the individual cells were located.  One 

of the Romulans turned and fired into the outer office, 

forcing the remaining stunned security guards to 

retreat into the corridor where they were cut down by 

the third Romulan stationed there. 

      Ksariss had retreated behind the relative safety of 

the solid front wall of her cell and had cautiously 

monitored the battle in the detention area by 

occasionally peering out through the door's force 

field.  The second Romulan in the inner chamber 

turned to her and ordered, "Stand back, Ambassador!"  

He then blasted the panel which controlled the force 

field across the cell door.  When the force field had 

collapsed she sprinted out to join him.  As she was 

supplied with a gas mask, a disruptor, and a 

transponder beacon the second Romulan smiled and 

said, "Compliments of Commander Kohbrah, 

Ambassador." 

     "Right now all I require is to get out of here!" she 

icily returned. 

     The team leader watching the entrance to the cell 

block barked a command to the team member in the 

corridor who scurried in to rejoin his squad. 

     "Objective secured," said the team leader after 

activating his communicator.  "Four to return." 

     The four Romulans vanished from the detention 

area cell block as Enterprise security reinforcements 

poured into the outer office. 

                            ---- CHAPTER  FOUR  ---- 

       Spock continued to monitor events and reports 

from the Enterprise's detention section.  Kirk was still 

preoccupied with the Romulan warship which was 

systematically destroying the remains of the Prinche 

Gayul still tumbling between it and the Enterprise.  

Kirk was withholding his response to the Talon's 

actions, fearful that any weapons activity on his part 

would complicate the job of his transporter officer 

who was attempting to obtain a secure lock on the 

body of the transport's Captain before beaming him to 

the Enterprise. 

     Spock heard a final report from the security teams 

in the detention section.  He decided that Kirk should 

be informed about what had happened. 

     "Captain, a Romulan contingent was beamed 

aboard our ship.  It encountered one of our security 

teams outside the detention area.  The Romulan force 

fought its way into the detention area and released 

the prisoner Ksariss from her cell.  She and the 

Romulan contingent are no longer aboard the 

Enterprise.  We have sustained several casualties, and 

Dr. McCoy has started treatment of our wounded in 

sick bay." 

     Kirk spun the command chair around, giving Spock 

a quick, probing glance.  Inwardly he was furious.  

Everything he had tried to guard against had just 

happened to him.  He stabbed at the buttons on the 

arm of the command chair, opening a channel to the 

transporter room. 

     "Transporter room, do you..." 

     "We have the survivor, Sir.  He's on his way to sick 

bay." 

     "Shields up, Mr. Sulu!  Mr. Chekov, get a lock on that 

Romulan ship and fire phasers when ready!" 

                              *   *   * 

     Ksariss raced from the Talon's transporter room 

toward the bridge.  As she neared the entrance to the 

ship's command center she heard the urgent voice of a 

man ordering, "Raise our shields, quickly!" 

     She was thrown against a wall and then to the deck 

as the ship pitched precariously.  As her head cleared 

she realized that the Talon had been hit by the 

Enterprise's phasers.  Either the shields had not been 

raised in time, or they had been only partially 

energized when the Enterprise had fired.  Lighting 

aboard the Talon had dimmed to emergency levels.  

The ship's Chief Technician reported over the 

intercom, "Apologies, Commander Kohbrah, we 

cannot maintain ship's power."  For whatever the 

reason, within the first minutes of having arrived 

aboard the Talon, Commander Kohbrah had made a 

less than favorable impression on Ksariss. 

     Ksariss entered the bridge holding her disruptor in 

her hand and regarded the man who had come to 

rescue her.  So this is Commander Kohbrah, she 

thought contemptuously.  She strode to the side of his 

command chair and stood with her feet spread wide 

and her hands upon her hips.  "Step down from your 

post, Commander!" she sternly directed. 

     It took a moment for the implications of Ksariss' 

command to work their way in through the other 

matters vying for attention in Kohbrah's mind.  At last, 

astonished, he turned to her and said, "What?" 

     She grabbed a fistful of Kohbrah's black hair and 

forcefully pulled him to his feet beside the command 

chair.  She then smashed her right fist which was 

firmly clamped around the handle of her disruptor 

into his face, leaning hard into the blow.  Kohbrah 

crumpled to the deck.  Like a cat Ksariss leaped over 

his unconscious form and dashed to the forward 

communications console.  Abusing the switches, she 

managed to open a channel to the ship's engine room.  

"What is the status of our engines?" she demanded. 

     There was an uncomfortable pause - the Chief 

Technician had been expecting to hear Commander 

Kohbrah's voice.  During the pause he reasoned that 

now was not the time to analyze.  Their mission had 

been to rescue an important woman.  Perhaps she had 

assumed command. 

     "Engine control circuits were burned by the partial 

phaser hit," explained the chief technician.  "We are 

attempting to isolate the affected components.  Ah - 

my men have just reported that the offending circuits 

have been identified and are being replaced." 

     "Make your men work faster," ordered Ksariss as 

she moved to the command chair.  "Without power 

we'll all be killed here!" 

     "I have an incoming message from the Federation 

ship," the Communications Officer reported. 

     Ksariss leveled a shaking finger at him.  "If you have 

the intelligence to follow an order, close down that 

channel!  I will tolerate no interruptions from them!" 

     Ksariss glared at the image of the Enterprise on the 

Talon's screen willing it to understand that surrender 

was an option she was not even considering.  She 

ordered the channel to the engine room reopened. 

     "What is taking so long back there?" she spit out 

while pounding on an arm of the command chair. 

     "The repaired systems must be tested before.. " 

     "To the devil's pit with your testing!" screamed 

Ksariss. "Start engines NOW!" 

     Surviving the few seconds which followed Ksariss' 

inflamed directive to the engine technician caused 

each member of the Romulan crew to give thanks to 

the kind guardian spirit which had smiled upon their 

ship.  Restarting the Talon's engines occurred without 

a single problem - a blessing not always bestowed 

upon this newest generation engine control system.  

With power generation restored, the Talon's shields 

were fully in place when the Enterprise's next volley 

of phaser fire came at them. 

     The Talon's shields did their job, protecting the ship 

from the full force of the Enterprise's phasers.  For 

Ksariss, sitting in the command chair, this was not 

enough.  She was still too near the Enterprise, and no 

nearer to the Neutral Zone.  This annoying lack of 

progress further incensed her and she began 

punishing the arms of the command chair with both 

fists. 

     Commander Kohbrah had regained a moderate 

semblance of consciousness.  He was propped up on 

his elbows beside the command chair, shaking his 

head and forcing his eyes open, all the while trying to 

piece together what had happened.  Shifting his 

weight onto his right elbow he grasped the edge of the 

command chair arm with his left hand and attempted 

to pull himself up.  As he drew his head and shoulders 

above the arm of the command chair he saw Ksariss 

glowering down at him.  She raised her disruptor and 

again brought it down abruptly onto his skull. 

     As Kohbrah sank again to the floor she leveled her 

disruptor at the navigator.  "Determine a heading to 

the nearest point in Neutral Zone - quickly!" 

                               *   *   * 

     As soon as the Enterprise's shields were up Chekov 

had dispatched a first volley of phaser fire at the 

Talon.  The results were encouraging.  Power readings 

from the Romulan ship steadily dropped to where the 

ship was only sustaining life support.  Obviously the 

Romulans had been a little slow in raising their 

shields after beaming back their rescue team. 

     "Damage assessment, Mr. Spock," Kirk demanded 

without taking his eyes from the viewscreen. 

     "Sensors show a complete engine shutdown, 

Captain.  The Romulan ship is functioning on battery 

power alone." 

     "Could this be a trick?" Kirk asked. 

     "Impossible to tell," said Spock as he first studied his instruments and then the viewscreen.  "I should 

think that shutting down one's engines at this stage of 

an engagement would be a most illogical combat 

tactic." 

     "At this stage of the engagement it would not be the 

tactic I would use," Kirk agreed.  No, there had to be 

another explanation.  Something was wrong on the 

Romulan ship, and it was time to press his advantage 

before the Romulans fixed whatever their problem 

was.  "Open a channel to that Romulan ship." 

     "The channel is open, Sir," Uhura responded. 

     "Attention, Romulan warship.  This is Captain James 

T. Kirk, commanding the Federation Starship 

Enterprise.  You have committed crimes and acts of 

aggression in Federation territory.  You are ordered to 

shut down all weapons systems and surrender 

yourselves and your ship at once." 

     "No response, Sir," said Uhura.  "Indications are that 

your transmission was blocked at their end." 

     "Captain, the Romulan ship's engines are coming 

back on line," reported Spock. 

     "Let's shut them down again, Mr. Chekov.  Fire 

phasers," ordered Kirk. 

     This time the Enterprise's phaser energy was 

deflected by fully functional shields.  The Talon did 

not return fire.  Instead, it started backing away from 

the position it had been holding.  It then started a 

rapid starboard turn on its axis and accelerated away 

while its image wavered on the viewscreen and 

disappeared. 

     "Spock, can you pin down their heading?" 

demanded a frustrated Captain Kirk. 

     Spock called necessary sensor readings to his 

station.  "Yes, Captain.  They are leaving an extremely 

faint trail of ionization.  The trail seems sufficiently 

undispersed to allow a degree of accuracy in 

determining a heading.  It appears their destination… 

is the nearest point in the Neutral Zone." 

     Kirk was encouraged now that the odds had 

changed a little more in his favor.  If his luck held, the 

Romulans would not get away unchallenged. 

     "Navigation and helm, take your information from 

Mr. Spock," said Kirk.  "We shall pursue.  Lt. Uhura, 

dispatch our status and intentions to Starfleet 

Command.  Let's get underway, gentlemen!" 

                                                *   *   * 

     Ksariss had calmed herself.  She was no longer 

teetering on the edge of uncontrollable rage.  In fact 

she was quite pleased with her recent performance.  

She had done everything her senatorial mentor had 

taught her to do: boldly use rank and position, and act 

as though you are used to being obeyed.  Her 

successful bid at assuming command of the Talon had 

not been challenged.  Most likely it would not be.  

After all, she held the title and wielded the power of 

the newly created office of Ambassador-At-Large, and 

was a close friend of a powerful Senator.  With her 

office and her associated connections she carried 

significantly more weight in the Senate and with the 

High Command than a mere warship commander.  For 

the moment things were going well for Ksariss, and 

reluctantly she gave Kohbrah credit for some of that.  

He had obviously trained his crew to be obedient and 

reasonably efficient.  They seemed capable of doing a 

job - once a strong hand had defined the requirements 

and parameters of that job.  The Talon was currently 

speeding toward the security of the Neutral Zone with 

Ksariss secure in the belief that the Federation would 

not risk war with the Romulan Empire by entering the 

Neutral Zone to retrieve an escaped spy. 

     Her thoughts returned to Kohbrah.  She had 

ordered him bound and dragged off the bridge, 

charging him with refusing to relinquish command to 

a duly recognized superior.  Though the crew had 

appeared uncomfortable with humiliating their 

Commander they had nonetheless followed her 

instructions and had stashed him safely for the time 

being in the ship's brig.  An amusing inspiration 

crossed her mind, but before she could indulge it 

there was an important formality to dispose of. 

     "You, Security Officer," she said to one of the 

crewmen at the array of stations before the command 

chair, "do you show any sign of pursuit?" 

     "No, Ambassador.  There is no sign of any ship 

within range of our sensors." 

     "Remain vigilant," Ksariss warned.  "If I've learned 

anything about this Federation Captain Kirk, it is that 

he has a reputation for luck and tenacity.  I'll wager 

we have not seen the last of him yet." 

     "Of course.  As you wish, Ambassador." 

      Ksariss smiled.  Now there was a young officer who 

knew how to adjust to a change in command. 

     Ksariss returned to the inspiration she had 

temporarily put aside.  She mentally caressed it, and a 

mischievous smile stretched across her face.  There 

were unresolved matters between Kohbrah and her -- 

matters she looked forward to dealing with, if the next 

senior officer could be trusted to watch the ship.  

Ksariss turned and studied the ship's Executive Officer 

intently.  He became aware of her interest and 

managed the courage to return a quick glance at the 

Ambassador.  Her probing eyes told him nothing, so 

he turned again to his duties, but, only for a moment. 

He had decided it was best to show the Ambassador 

that he was confident and not afraid of her.  He met 

her eyes again and calmly asked, "Is there some 

service I might perform for you, Ambassador?" 

     Ksariss considered his question.  She decided that 

for the present he could be trusted.  "Yes, there is a 

small service I require.  Take command of this rabble 

for a short time.  And if you value your career, see to it 

that nothing goes wrong." 

     This woman has fire and spirit, thought the 

Executive Officer.  Properly tempered, these qualities 

would make her an interesting companion.  He 

decided that the best way to handle her for the 

moment was to humor her.  He saluted as she vacated 

the command chair and headed for Kohbrah's 

quarters behind the bridge. 

     The automatic door to Kohbrah's quarters opened 

with a quiet hiss.  Ksariss stood half in the doorway 

and looked around.  "Typical male trappings," she 

muttered to herself.  She sat in the chair behind his 

desk, and for the first time was overcome by a feeling 

that there was some un-Romulan quality about the 

piece of furniture.  She felt the side of the desk, paying 

attention to the texture of the natural material from 

which it was constructed.  From the feel of the side 

panel she formed a theory which she further tested by 

sniffing the faint traces of oils on the tips of her fingers 

where they had rubbed along the desk.  Of course, she 

congratulated herself, this is a Klingon desk.  It was 

bad enough trading the Empire's latest technology to 

the Klingons; now the two empires were even trading 

furniture.  She reached underneath the central panel 

and pressed the small button which activated the 

whisper quiet spring-loaded mechanism that ejected a 

weapon into her waiting hand.  At least that 

mechanism had been modified to accommodate a 

Romulan disruptor.  She examined the disruptor and 

moved its safety lever to its non-firing position before 

reinserting the weapon into its compartment and 

resetting the ejection mechanism.  Ksariss gave the 

rest of the room a quick check for surprises.  Finding 

no more, she returned to the desk and activated a 

channel on the ship's intercom. 

     "Yes, Ambassador?" 

     "Have the prisoner Kohbrah brought to his former 

quarters." 

     "As you wish, Ambassador." 

     Within minutes two crewmembers had brought the 

manacled Kohbrah into what had until recently been 

his quarters, and had left him standing, disheveled, 

before Ksariss who was seated behind what had until 

recently been his desk. 

     "Leave us," Ksariss ordered as she fought to keep 

from smiling at Kohbrah's reactions to her 

comfortable presence behind his desk. 

     When they were alone she walked slowly around 

her humbled prisoner.  "So, you have come before me 

to beg for my forgiveness," she said assuredly. 

     "We have never even met before.  Why would I 

possibly require your forgiveness?" insisted Kohbrah. 

     "Why?!" Ksariss laughed.  "Commander, you require 

my forgiveness because you have been so incredibly 

stupid – that is 'why'!" 

     There was no hiding the fact that Kohbrah was 

completely ignorant of whatever Ksariss was referring 

to.  Kohbrah's lack of understanding greatly amused 

Ksariss, who now anticipated that exposing Kohbrah's 

folly to him would be as entertaining as she had 

envisioned while occupying the command chair on the 

bridge. 

     "Yes!  Yes, Commander Kohbrah, you have behaved 

as stupidly, and you have been as lacking in foresight 

as those Federation fools who doubted my inevitable 

liberation," she bubbled while rising and moving to 

the side of the desk.  "To explain I shall tell you a 

story." 

     Ksariss settled comfortably onto the edge of the 

desk before beginning.  "While my Federation captors 

were attempting to assemble witnesses for my trial I 

was visited by one of my Romulan lawyers.  It was she 

who actually told me a story, and it was related to her 

by her brother who is, like yourself, an officer on a 

warship." 

     "It seems," she continued, "that her brother was in 

the company of fellow officers celebrating some 

accomplishment or other at a drinking establishment 

near their fleet base.  While celebrating they made the 

acquaintance of a certain warship Commander who 

was patronizing the same establishment.  It was their 

opinion that if they had not convinced this warship 

Commander to share some of his war stories he would 

have selfishly emptied all the spirits from the 

establishment's shelves by himself.  This Commander 

was bursting with pride at having been chosen to 

liberate a certain captured Romulan diplomat.  Over 

the course of the evening this Commander's lips 

became lubricated with the essences of a number of 

exotic spirits, and he freely discussed the rewards he 

expected to reap upon the successful completion of 

his mission.  He prophesied for himself newfound 

wealth, and promotions for bravery, and…  marriage." 

     Ksariss had spoken the word 'marriage' as if 

uttering it had left a very unpleasant taste in her 

mouth.  "Oh, I do apologize," she added with a 

pronounced lack of sincerity, "I neglected to mention 

that the captured diplomat was a beautiful woman!" 

     At this point Ksariss was pleased to see the dawn of 

understanding on Kohbrah's face.  Now that he had an 

idea of where the rest of the story was heading it 

would hurt him even more as she drove a few stinging 

points home. 

     "You were that drunken Commander!" she shouted, 

leveling an accusing finger at him.  "You desired 

wealth and promotions for rescuing me?  Those 

rewards I would have gladly arranged.  But - 

marriage?  I do not enter so easily into a marriage!  I 

have no desire to be cast aside after chauvinistic 

Romulan law and customs grant my husband control 

over my wealth and estates!" 

                                       ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~      

Ksariss painfully remembered how that very thing 

had happened to her mother.  In her youth Mother 

had been beautiful, rich, vibrant, and happy.  After the 

death of her parents she had become somewhat 

rebellious, and against the wishes of the rest of her 

family she had started living with a young man, a 

steel-eyed handsome, ambitious lawyer and politician 

with enough promise and connections to rise to the 

top of his profession. 

In time the young rebellious woman found herself 

with child.  Out of feelings of obligation, and under 

pressure from his professional superiors to do the 

honorable thing, the lawyer had married the mother 

of his child. 

Ksariss was born, and Mother believed that there 

could be no greater joy than caring for her child.  She 

was certain that everything that could be desired of 

life was now eternally hers.  She threw herself so 

completely into providing and caring for her new 

treasure that she was completely oblivious to what 

her treacherous husband was doing behind her back. 

 At a steady pace Father had begun transferring 

control of parcels of Mother's estates to himself.  By 

the time Mother had finally understood what had 

been happening there was very little left in her name. 

 Furiously Mother had sued for divorce, and she had 

tried to regain what she felt was morally hers through 

the courts.  Her legal battles lasted for years and her 

remaining resources were used to pay legal fees.  As 

soon as her money was gone her lawyers had urged 

her to settle the affair under terms which allotted her 

a pittance of a pension from her former husband. 

After that, Ksariss had lived very modestly with her 

mother.  She had spent many nights alone and crying, 

devising fanciful plans to right the wrongs her mother 

had suffered.  Mother finally died on the brink of 

poverty. 

After Mother's passing Ksariss had been forced to 

make a peace of sorts with Father as she had no 

means to support herself and nowhere else to live.  

Father had taken her in and had put her through 

school, but the relationship between them had 

remained distant and chilled.  When Father finally 

died she felt little remorse. 

As she saw things, the male-dominated courts had 

failed to protect her mother.  Mother's male lawyers 

had been only too happy to accept their fees from her, 

but when the money had run out, so had their interest 

in her case.  While growing up Ksariss had learned a 

few things about power, and about the concepts of 

right and wrong.  She understood the wisdom 

expressed in the ancient adages: 'might is right', and 

'real power is what you take'. 

                                       ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~      

     Ksariss withdrew her disruptor and gazed at it as if 

it was somehow seducing her.   

     "Marriage?” she said wistfully to Kobrah. “I should 

very much like to blast you into pieces too small to 

hold thoughts of such effrontery!” 

      After another moment of gazing she returned the 

disruptor to its holster.  "I am restraining myself," she 

added, "because you have exhibited some redeeming 

qualities.  You did well in disposing of the witnesses 

who incriminated me.  Your battle plan against the 

Enterprise caught them completely off guard.  And, 

your crew is well trained.  I express my gratitude for 

these things.  Since you have some skill in organizing 

and running this warship, you will serve me in a 

capacity of second-in-command until we reach a base 

in the Empire.  After examining my reports your 

superiors may then decide on your fitness for 

command.  Do not congratulate yourself on your good 

fortune by virtue of my clemency, Commander, 

because I must still serve you with an official 

reprimand.  It would be best for you to curb your 

passion for overindulging in strong drink.  This vice 

has, more than anything, led to your current 

downfall." 

     Kohbrah's gaze was fixed into a corner.  Inside he 

was punishing himself for the indiscretions that had 

led to the humiliation to which he was now subjected.  

Ksariss sat behind the desk and again summoned the 

bridge. 

     "What do you wish, Ambassador?" responded the 

intercom. 

     "I wish to confer with the ship's Executive Officer," 

she said. 

     "I have informed him, Ambassador.  He is on his 

way." 

     When he entered Ksariss' new quarters she was 

seated on the corner of her Klingon desk.  "Summon 

security personnel and have the restraints removed 

from Commander Kohbrah," she ordered.  "He will 

serve me as second-in-command, overseeing the 

operation of all routine ship's matters.  On all non-

routine matters, I am to be consulted.  Is that 

understood?" 

     The Executive Officer glanced at Kohbrah, and then 

indicated his understanding of the changed command 

hierarchy.  He then left to carry out his orders.  The 

restraints were removed from Kohbrah's wrists by 

crewmen who arrived several minutes later.  Kohbrah 

massaged his wrists and felt the circulation returning 

to his fingers. 

     Suddenly the lights went out, leaving everyone 

immersed in a complete and oppressive darkness and 

a dead silence.  No emergency lighting, no intercom, 

no alarms, and no engine noise.  In a few minutes the 

shouting of crewmen pervaded the dark as some tried 

to communicate, to organize, to understand, and if 

possible to reverse the complete loss of power before 

the indigenous cold of deep space claimed the inside 

of the ship. 

                                       *   *   * 

     The trail of ionization left by the fleeing Talon was 

not easy to follow.  Spock had warned that dispersion 

of the trace particles emitted by the Romulan ship 

would complicate the process of verifying its course.  

If the Romulans had tried some kind of evasive 

maneuvers the dispersion factor would have made 

tracking the Talon virtually impossible, but Spock's 

computers were indicating a high probability that the 

Romulan ship was holding to a straight line and 

running a high speed sprint for the safety of the 

Romulan Neutral Zone. 

     Kirk was mulling over his options.  Presently the 

Enterprise was in pursuit at warp seven - about as fast 

as the warp engines could be pushed for any length of 

time without risking overheating and having to break 

off pursuit.  There was a small chance that the 

Enterprise could accelerate to warp eight and attempt 

to close on the Talon, but if the Romulan ship had a 

speed reserve to match, it would be anybody's guess 

which vessel would have to slow down first.  Tracking 

the cloaked Romulan ship at warp seven had slightly 

compromised the accuracy of Spock's computers.  

Someone had remarked that at warp eight they would 

do better attempting visual tracking of the cloaked 

ship.  A less frivolous observation was made that if the 

Romulans were forced to warp eight and then 

executed evasive maneuvers it would take a miracle to 

detect them again.  Kirk was convinced that pursuing 

at warp seven was getting them nowhere.  He was 

certain that the Romulan ship would not turn from its 

beeline heading.  He was almost ready to switch to the 

warp eight option, but before subjecting Chief 

Engineer Scott's engines to such torture he decided to 

give Starfleet Command one more chance to help in 

recapturing Ksariss. 

     "Lieutenant Uhura, has there been any response to 

our request for assistance?" 

     "Yes, Sir.  I have just finished unscrambling 

Starfleet's response." 

     "Very good, Lieutenant.  Let's see what they have to 

say." 

     Uhura replayed the decoded tape on the 

viewscreen.  The grey-haired sector commander 

appeared and spoke to Kirk.  "Starfleet Command has 

reviewed your situation, Captain Kirk.  They are in 

agreement there was nothing more you could have 

done under the circumstances.  As to your request for 

assistance, regrettably there are no vessels in a 

position to help intercept the Romulan ship.  Starfleet 

Command places great importance in regaining 

custody of Ksariss.  They have reassured me that they 

will back you in whatever you decide to do.  Good 

luck, Captain." 

     Kirk stroked his chin.  The Enterprise was on its 

own and its best chance of success lay in going with 

the warp eight option.  From the arm of the command 

chair Kirk opened a channel to Engineering.  "Scotty, 

report on the status of the warp engines." 

     "At the moment, Sir, as good as they can be." 

     Kirk knew his Chief Engineer would not like to hear 

what was going to happen.  "I'll have to apologize in 

advance, Scotty.  Starfleet wants our former guest 

back.  It means pushing everything to the absolute 

limit.  Everything you can give us, and maybe a little 

more." 

     "Understood, Captain.  I'll have the lads throw an 

extra shovel of coal on the fire." 

     Kirk smiled as he turned to Spock.  "Is there any 

change in the Romulans’ heading, Mr. Spock?" 

     "No detectable change, Captain." 

     Kirk faced the viewscreen.  "Mr. Sulu, bring us to 

warp eight.  Hold our present heading." 

     The warp engines groaned to a higher pitch and the 

stars on the viewscreen raced by at a noticeably faster 

pace.  The engineer monitoring readings at the 

bridge's engineering station soon started casting 

nervous glances over his shoulder at Kirk.  Out of the 

corner of his eye Kirk saw this happening.  Scotty is 

probably monitoring the same readings in 

Engineering, he thought.  Scotty and his engines had 

survived maximum output incidents like this before.  

As Chief Engineer, Scotty knew that the absolute limits 

of his engines' capabilities were slightly in excess of 

the figures published in Starfleet's technical manuals.  

Kirk trusted that there was no cause for alarm until 

Scotty, himself, voiced concern. 

     "Captain," said Spock, "there is a small distortion on 

the viewscreen.  Apparently we are closing on the 

Talon." 

     Kirk saw the tiny area of distortion which Spock 

had pointed out.  Again he called engineering.  "Scotty, 

can we push those engines a little harder?" 

     Mr. Scott responded, but Kirk never heard what his 

Chief Engineer had said.  A ridiculously dressed man 

playing a harpsichord in front of the viewscreen was 

making entirely too much noise. 

                             ---- CHAPTER  FIVE  ---- 

      "Tallyho!  Greetings and felicitations, my good 

friends!  How I have missed you, one and all!" gleefully 

exclaimed the harpsichordist as he appraised his 

audience while his hands appeared to dance expertly 

over the keyboard of his instrument.  He was dressed 

in a rich blue jacket highlighted by an abundance of 

gold embroidery and lace-edged sleeves.  A row of 

bright medals was suspended from colorful ribbons 

hanging in perfect alignment on the left side of his 

chest, and a brilliant white cravat hung from around 

his neck to adorn the front of his jacket.  High polished 

black boots complemented his grey breeches. 

     Each crewman on the Enterprise's bridge stared, 

astounded by the unexpected appearance of the eager, 

bubbling performer and his centuries-old instrument.  

The air was filled with the tinkling of the harpsichord 

as it produced strains of music that brought to mind 

the works of the most celebrated of Earth's classical 

composers. 

     Kirk was the first to break the silence following the 

end of the harpsichordist's unsolicited performance 

when he stood and in profound disbelief uttered, 

"Trelane?" 

     "Oh, you do remember, Captain!  That is most 

gratifying!" beamed Trelane as he stepped in front of 

the harpsichord and executed a very broad bow.  

Unanticipated silence brought him back to an erect 

stance, and he looked about the bridge with his hands 

outstretched in disbelief. 

     "No applause?  After a performance of that caliber?" 

he insisted.  After fixing his eyes on Kirk he pouted, "I 

must say your manners have not improved 

appreciably since last we met!" 

     The Enterprise's first encounter with Trelane, The 

Squire of Gothos, passed through Kirk's mind.  

Trelane, the child-creature with a passion for 

experiencing Earth's history, especially its military 

history, had proved to be more of a handful than the 

Enterprise had been capable of handling.  Had it not 

been for the timely intervention of Trelane's parents, 

the ship and its crew might still be trapped on Gothos, 

powerless to end their being retained as playthings by 

an omnipotent juvenile delinquent.  The only thing 

that had seemed to have any effect on Trelane was 

standing up to him, not knuckling under to his 

flaunted superiority.  It had always taken Trelane a 

little time to figure out what to do when Kirk had not 

played Trelane's games by Trelane's rules. 

     "I might say the same thing about your manners," 

Kirk accused.  "You were not invited aboard my ship." 

     "You wound me to the quick, Captain!" lamented 

Trelane.  "Did I not freely extend my hospitality to you 

on my estate on Gothos?  After such unbridled 

generosity on my part, is it not expected that I would 

be entreated to visit your humble home in the stars?" 

     "What you offered to me and my crew on Gothos 

was perpetual imprisonment!" declared Kirk.  "You 

attempted to force your 'hospitality' on my ship.  I can 

honestly say that after having made your 

acquaintance I would not invite you to visit my 

humble home in the stars if you and I were the last 

two lonely sentient beings in the entire universe!" 

     "Oh," responded Trelane, momentarily taken aback 

by Kirk's terseness.  However, only a moment later a 

self-satisfied smile settled onto Trelane's face, and he 

observed, "Well, that really doesn't seem to matter 

now, does it?  I quite apparently am here anyway!" 

     Kirk was about to respond when Spock counseled, 

"Captain, it might be better to remember the man." 

     "Oh, please, you ill-mannered subordinate Vulcan, 

hold your tongue," said Trelane arrogantly to Spock.  

"Your good Captain and I were having this 

conversation." 

     Kirk ignored Trelane's rebuff against Spock as he 

tried to extract Spock's hidden meaning from his 

suggestion.  Remember the man.  Trelane isn't a man, 

thought Kirk.  Then, as that thought had crossed his 

mind, Kirk had understood.  He was not attempting to 

deal with a rational adult, but with a precocious child. 

     Kirk took a step toward Trelane to draw his 

attention away from Spock and then tried a softer 

approach.  "Trelane," he said, forcing a smile, "I think I 

know what you want.  Perhaps you would like us to 

visit with you a while, maybe play some games, maybe 

reenact some fascinating old battles.  The problem 

with that is that we are really busy at the moment.  So 

we don't have the time, uh - at the present, that is, for 

your hobbies or games.. " 

     "But you misjudge me, Mon Capitaine," interrupted 

Trelane, delighted that Kirk had no idea why he had 

visited the Enterprise.  "What I have planned for us is 

not so juvenile as merely playing a few games.  In any 

event, your concern about that ship you were chasing 

is unwarranted.  It won't be going anywhere, and 

neither will you.  At least, not until I am ready." 

     "Ready?  Ready for what?" demanded Kirk, 

reverting to his hard line approach to dealing with 

Trelane.  He managed a quick scan of several 

instruments which verified that the Enterprise and 

the Talon were motionless in space. 

     "You know, you really can be quite rude, Captain," 

admonished Trelane.  "This would be much more 

interesting if you were to ask me what I have been 

doing with myself recently." 

     Kirk glared at Trelane, wishing for a way to sweep 

him off the ship. 

     "For instance, have you noticed that I've grown?" 

suggested Trelane as he spun gracefully around.  Kirk 

still glared, silently. 

     "No, perhaps you haven't," conceded Trelane 

disappointedly.  "You wouldn't know what to look 

for."  With his finger on his chin Trelane thought for a 

moment, and then brightly proposed, "Perhaps you 

have noticed that this time I have been performing my 

wonders without the aid of mirrors?" 

     Trelane's face fell into despair when Kirk ignored 

his question.  "Captain Kirk!  Please, you must ask me 

what I have been doing!  Everything depends on it!" 

he pleaded. 

     "And if I don't ask, will you go away?" Kirk 

responded impatiently. 

     "Oh, you will ask, Captain," returned Trelane 

smugly.  "One way or another, you… will… ask!" 

     Kirk saw that Trelane was growing a little tense, 

and that he was determined to have his way on this 

point.  Rather than have Trelane lose his temper and 

do something outrageous to the entire crew he 

decided to give in.  "Alright, Trelane, what have you 

been doing with yourself recently?" 

     Trelane started to bubble over with excitement, 

finally having the exact opening he had so greatly 

desired.  He eagerly rubbed his hands together and 

cast his eyes upward as he searched for just the right 

words. 

     "Do you remember my telling you that the study of 

your fascinating planet and species is my all-

consuming divertissement?" 

     Kirk said nothing. 

     "Of course you do," Trelane continued, only 

momentarily slowed by Kirk's show of indifference.  

"You cannot possibly know how thrilling it was to 

encounter actual specimens from one of my favorite 

planets passing through the neighborhood of my 

estate on Gothos.  I was all but shattered when you 

spurned my hospitality.  Not only did you shatter my 

spirit, Captain, you intentionally did the same to the 

great mirror in my castle's entertainment hall.  And 

when I demanded just recompense of you, you 

betrayed me to my mother and father.  I'll never know 

how you made them believe your misrepresentations, 

but the result of your defamation was that my best 

toys were taken away." 

     "We can only hope that your punishment taught 

you something about responsibility," interjected Kirk. 

     "Quite the contrary, Captain," Trelane smiled.  "You 

see, I have acquired some new toys.  In many ways 

they are much, much better toys." 

     A disquieting possibility was forming in Kirk's mind 

that Trelane intended to demonstrate how his recent 

acquisitions were superior to the devices he had used 

on Gothos. 

     "Captain Kirk and crewmen of the Enterprise, I 

simply cannot keep this good news to myself any 

longer," exclaimed Trelane as he looked excitedly at 

each crewman on the bridge.  "With the aid of my new 

equipment I have seen your twentieth century.  

Industrialization and pollution.  Motion pictures, 

television, The Beatles, and Woodstock.  And not to 

forget, those glorious wars between the governments 

of your entire planet!  I especially enjoyed that 

scientist with the long hair.  What was his name. .?  

Einstein!  Yes, Albert Einstein, who revealed to you the 

secrets of time, space, and matter.  For a human being, 

he was a person of exceptional insight.  When I 

considered the reverence in which he was held I could 

not, at first, understand why he would involve himself 

with the author of the book which lay open on his 

desk at the time of his death.  Fortunately I was able to 

locate and examine a copy of that book.  It was simply 

fascinating!  As I came to understand its subject 

material from the writer's point of view, the format 

for a wonderful new game opened before me.  In fact, 

we shall all soon play my new game, and it will teach 

you all a very… important… lesson!" 

     Trelane looked around the bridge, verifying that he 

had everyone's attention.  He brushed an imagined 

piece of lint from the sleeve of his uniform coat, and 

when he was satisfied that he looked his absolute best 

he strode purposefully around the navigation console 

and stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye with James Kirk, 

the Captain of the Enterprise. 

     From somewhere Trelane produced a pair of 

leather gloves which he held tightly in his right hand.  

He smartly took a single step back, raised the gloves, 

and with a quick left-right snap of his wrist slapped 

Kirk hard on each cheek.  "You are a cheater!" he 

proclaimed to Kirk as he cast the gloves onto the deck 

at Kirk's feet.  "You came into my home and disgraced 

me in front of my family when you broke the rules to 

my games.  I was supposed to win!  Now I am going to 

make it so that you, and none of your cheater friends, 

can ever again keep me from winning!" 

     Trelane leaned into Kirk's face an extra second for 

theatrical impact, and then, in the blink of an eye, 

Trelane and the harpsichord vanished from the bridge 

of the Enterprise.  In the instant which followed, both 

the Enterprise and the Talon disappeared from where 

their wild dash to the Neutral Zone had been brought 

to an abrupt, unforeseen halt.   

                               ---- CHAPTER  SIX  ---- 

     Unsure of how long she had been unconscious, 

Ksariss opened her eyes and let them adjust to the 

unexpected dim light.  Except for a barely discernable 

suggestion of noise beside her, the ship was as still as 

a tomb.  She slowly rolled her head to the side and 

saw Kohbrah lying next to her face down on the floor.  

He was mumbling quietly and incoherently to himself, 

a sign that he would soon regain consciousness.  The 

air around her did not appear to have cooled to any 

great degree, which when considering the power 

blackout the ship had experienced, suggested that her 

period of unconsciousness had been relatively short. 

     Ksariss was determined to be the first on her feet, 

ready to give orders to the first subordinate who was 

able to respond.  It would be little things like that, she 

felt, which would eventually define her in the eyes of 

the rest of the crew as a person of superior resilience 

and fortitude. 

     She managed to sit up by forcing all her will into the 

effort and was rewarded with a pounding headache 

and an overpowering feeling of dizziness.  She cursed 

the pain and the dizziness, wishing she could 

bequeath them both to Kohbrah.  It would be a gift he 

richly deserved. 

     By supporting herself on the desk she made it to 

her feet.  She experienced a new wave of dizziness 

which dissipated faster than the first.  When she was 

sure she could keep her balance she staggered to the 

door, and for the first time fully realized that the dim 

light in the room and in the corridor outside was the 

ship's low intensity red emergency lighting.  If there 

was lighting, she deduced, then obviously partial 

power had been restored.  But if partial power was 

available, did that mean that some environmental 

systems might also be functioning?  If that was the 

case, she might have been unconscious longer than 

she had first believed. 

     She braced herself on the wall as she slowly made 

her way to the bridge.  There she found the bridge 

crewmembers in the same condition as Kohbrah.  The 

executive officer was sprawled in the command chair.  

She tried to remove him, but found that she lacked the 

strength.  Then she noticed that the chair at the 

navigation console was vacant, its former occupant 

slumped on the floor beside it.  She let herself down 

onto this chair resting her arm on the back so that it 

could help support her head. 

     As she breathed deeply she felt the fog in her head 

clearing and the pain of the headache becoming 

sharper.  She spied a medical emergency cabinet and 

arose to walk toward it.  In the cabinet was a 

container which held prepackaged processed portions 

of an herb native to Romulus which was widely used 

as an analgesic.  She opened a packet and threw the 

enclosed portion of the herb into her mouth.  Several 

minutes of chewing released the herb's inherent 

medicinal agents and vapors which greatly lessened 

the discomfort of her headache. 

     Ksariss' thoughts began to focus more and more on 

the condition of the ship.  Everything she had seen and 

heard since regaining consciousness convinced her 

that she was the first to be up and moving about.  If 

she assumed this was true, she was left without an 

answer to the perplexing question of who had turned 

on the emergency lighting.  Unable to easily answer 

the question she put it aside.  Perhaps she would have 

Kohbrah or one of his underlings investigate the 

matter later.  At the moment it was more important to 

get moving again toward the Neutral Zone.  

     Several crewmembers around the bridge had 

recovered enough to sit up or lean against the nearest 

structure capable of supporting them.  Ksariss began 

distributing packets of the analgesic herb to these 

crewmen, not through any compassion or kindness, 

but to hasten the return of the ship to proper running 

order.  As Ksariss next traveled throughout the rest of 

the ship dispensing the analgesic packets she began to 

wonder what had happened to the Enterprise.  Had 

Kirk been responsible for the blackout, or had the 

same phenomenon affected his Federation ship also? 

     She hurried back toward the bridge to start 

collecting answers.  Meanwhile, with great effort, 

Kohbrah had made it to his feet and had staggered 

into the corridor and toward the bridge.  He was 

leaning on the bulkhead at the entrance when Ksariss 

brushed past him handing him a container of herb 

packets as she did so.  Kohbrah peered hopefully into 

the container.  It was empty. 

     Ksariss positioned herself in front of the command 

chair which still held the groggy bulk of the executive 

officer who was slowly chewing his portion of the 

analgesic herb. 

     "Do you have a name?" Ksariss inquired in the most 

disdainful voice she could invoke. 

     "I am called Tarsus.  Subcommander Tarsus," 

weakly replied the executive officer between the 

hands covering his face. 

     "Well, Subcommander Tarsus, are you attempting 

to unseat me as commander of this vessel, or are you 

merely wallowing in characteristic masculine self-

pity?" 

     Tarsus opened his hands slightly, peering out to 

verify if Ksariss' spiteful inquiry was serious.  Seeing 

that, indeed, it was, he angrily grumbled, "A thousand 

pardons - Sir!"  He struggled out of the command chair 

and stood well behind it, hoping that Ksariss would 

not pay him too much attention, at least not until the 

analgesic herb had done its work. 

     Ksariss took the command chair and began working 

on getting the ship's affairs in order.  After opening a 

communications channel she called, "Engine room, 

this is the bridge.  I want a full report on our status." 

     "Engine room, Sir.  The ship is on emergency 

battery power.  As far as we have been able to 

determine, none of our systems were damaged by 

what happened, but we need to initiate a cold restart 

of our warp engines.  Since we cannot determine what 

caused the shutdown, it is vitally important that a full 

battery of tests be run before attempting to restart." 

     Ksariss' hands tightened on the arms of the 

command chair reflecting how she felt about another 

delay.  "Very well," she reluctantly allowed, "do what 

you must, but do it as quickly as you can.  Does the 

ship have impulse capability?" 

     "Yes, Sir.  Full impulse capability." 

     "My gratitude for that," responded Ksariss 

sarcastically.  "Bring the impulse engines on line - and 

do something about more lighting up here!" 

     "We'll get right on it, Sir." 

     Ksariss was relieved to see that all the duty stations 

on the bridge were now manned.  "Navigation Officer, 

what is the estimated time to the Neutral Zone at full 

impulse power?" she asked. 

     As the lighting on the bridge returned to normal the 

navigation officer entered instructions into his 

computer.  Instead of responding with the requested 

data it emitted an obscene noise, indicating that it was 

not comfortable with what it was being asked to do.  

He rechecked his figures and programming before 

attempting to reenter them.  Again the computer 

balked.  Astounded and fearful, he turned to Ksariss 

and said, "Sir, we are not where we were." 

     "What do you mean?" Ksariss frowned. 

     "Sir, we are nowhere near the coordinates we 

occupied before the power blackout.  I cannot explain 

why, Sir, but we are - lost.  It will take time for the 

computers to derive our new location." 

     Even the air on the bridge seemed to recoil from 

the fresh tirade of curses from Ksariss, and the 

longsuffering arms of the command chair vibrated 

again under her fury.  Thrusting her head and neck 

menacingly forward she screamed, "Where is Kirk and 

his Enterprise?" 

     "We are the only vessel within range of our 

sensors." 

     In spite of her apparent freedom from Kirk for the 

moment, Ksariss was still boiling!  Powerful feelings of 

frustration needed to be vented on someone, and 

having no clearly guilty scapegoat had agitated her 

turmoil to the limits of control. 

     Commander Kohbrah had been standing silently at 

the back of the bridge studying everything that had 

happened.  He stepped forward and said to the 

navigation officer, "Thank you.  I believe you have 

given us all the information you have.  Now we should 

all apply ourselves to determining our present 

location." 

     Ksariss turned around, and her eyes were literally 

spitting fire at Kohbrah.  She clearly did not like his 

interference in her command decisions.  However, she 

said nothing and quietly faced forward resting her 

right elbow on the arm of the command chair and her 

chin on her right thumb.  Sulking to herself she 

admitted that she had held her tongue and had not 

reprimanded Kohbrah because at the moment there 

really was no better course of action. 

                                         *   *   * 

Vulcans possess a constitution of near 

legendary robustness.  Perhaps more than anything, 

this was why Spock was the first of the Enterprise 

crew to regain consciousness.  He remembered that 

Trelane had disappeared, and then, after half-

perceived sensations of sudden rapid motion and 

disorientation, everything had lapsed into blackness.  

Everyone else on the bridge was unconscious and 

lying where they had fallen, either from chairs or from 

where they had been standing.  Some showed signs of 

injury.  Spock opened a channel to sick bay.  "Spock to 

Doctor McCoy.  Are you able to respond?" 

     There was no answer.  Spock decided his first 

priority was the safety of the ship, and to insure that 

he needed to know where the Romulan warship was.  

A quick scan of the instruments told him that the 

Enterprise was the only ship in the immediate area.  

He looked over his shoulder at the forward 

viewscreen and examined the star field.  Something 

about it did not look right.  It was very different from 

the star field that had been displayed as they had 

encountered Trelane, and it did not quite match any of 

the celestial views he associated with the Starfleet 

worlds he often visited, and yet there was an elusive 

quality of familiarity about it he could not place.  He 

channeled information from the communications 

station to his science console and quickly discovered 

that all Starfleet and civilian communication bands 

were silent.  He would not be able to determine their 

location from Starfleet navigation aids.  The ship was 

simply lost, but in no apparent danger. 

     Having established that the ship was for the time 

being safe, Spock became more concerned about the 

condition of the crew.  He decided that the ship's 

computers, if they were functioning properly, could 

deal with the problem of the ship's location.  After the 

computers had passed several quick tests he set them 

to work on this task. 

     Spock next scanned the entire ship and learned that 

the entire crew was still unconscious.  The scans had 

showed no signs of life-threatening injuries, but there 

were still a number that would require some attention 

from Dr. McCoy. 

     Spock retrieved the bridge's emergency medical kit 

and carried it to the command chair.  He knelt beside 

Kirk, opened the kit, and found a vial labeled as a 

stimulant.  He loaded the vial into a hypospray and 

administered the prescribed dosage into Kirk's upper 

arm.  A moment later Kirk's eyes blinked, and he 

succeeded in propping himself up against the base of 

the command chair.  He stared at Spock with eyes 

seeking answers to a thousand questions.  As he made 

his first unsuccessful attempts to say something Spock 

heard a number of low, anguished moans from around 

the bridge. 

     "What - happened, Spock?" Kirk asked with 

difficulty. 

     "I am uncertain, Captain," Spock replied as he 

scanned Kirk with the tricorder from the medical kit.  

"Trelane vanished shortly before a great force took 

hold of the ship.  I am certain I felt that before losing 

consciousness myself.  It appears that the ship has 

been moved to an undetermined location, and of the 

crew, you and I are the only ones who are conscious." 

     "That brat sure knows how to have a tantrum," Kirk 

observed as he uncomfortably adjusted his position.  

"How badly were we shaken up?" he asked a moment 

later.  "Where's the Romulan ship?" 

     "According to the scans I have made, our ship does 

not appear to have been damaged," Spock replied.  "I 

have been unable to locate the Romulan ship, visually, 

or on our scanners." 

     There was a distracting hiss from the turbolift 

doors as they opened.  Dr. McCoy and two assistants 

burst onto the bridge, McCoy going directly to Kirk 

and the assistants to other crewmen. 

     McCoy covered Kirk's entire body with his medical 

scanners.  "I see you've already had your shots," he 

quipped after a thorough examination. 

     "Yes," Kirk smiled slightly, "my First Officer has apparently been playing 'doctor' in your absence." 

     "Practicing medicine again without a license, Mr. 

Spock?" McCoy asked with a quick, sly glance at the 

First Officer. 

     "I am quite knowledgeable about many aspects of 

human physiology, Doctor," replied Spock in his own 

defense, "and it was imperative to have the Captain. ." 

     "Thank you, Mr. Spock," interrupted McCoy as he 

prepared a second hypo for Kirk.  "I'd ask the Captain 

to put you in for a commendation, but right now I 

have about four-hundred more crewmen to examine.  

Jim, if you feel as badly as I did a few minutes ago 

you'll need a shot of this for the headache and 

dizziness you're not telling me about.  Trust me, it will 

help." 

     Kirk gratefully accepted the offered medication.  

McCoy had been correct about the symptoms.  Kirk 

had been hoping they would just go away. 

     McCoy placed the hypo against Spock's arm and 

asked, "Care for a little of one of my noxious potions, 

Spock?" 

     "No, thank you, Doctor," replied Spock.  "Everything 

is well under control." 

     "It's just as well," said McCoy as he placed the hypo 

back in his medical kit.  "Everybody's complaining 

about headache and dizziness.  I just hope I have 

enough of this stuff on hand to go around." 

     By the time McCoy and his team of assistants had 

left the bridge Kirk's medication had started to take 

effect.  The helm and navigation consoles actually 

stayed in one place when he looked at them, so he 

carefully seated himself in the command chair.  Other 

crewmembers were also returning to their jobs.  The 

Enterprise was coming back to life. 

     After allowing a few more minutes for his 

medication to work, Kirk contacted Lt. Commander 

Scott in engineering.  He listened to Scott's reports 

which verified Spock's assertion that the ship was 

undamaged.  They then began discussing a restart of 

the warp engines.  Spock had been busy at his science 

station, studying readings being fed to the computers 

when he noticed an uncharacteristic flicker in the 

computer display.  Suddenly an alarm sounded 

throughout the ship.  It was the same alarm heard 

when Ksariss' rescuers had been beamed on board. 

     "Intruder alert, Captain," Spock reported.  Then a 

puzzled expression clouded his face as he added, 

"Ship's sensors cannot determine the location of the 

intrusion." 

     "Security," said Kirk after opening his own channel, 

"this is the Captain.  I want all available security 

personnel conducting an all-decks search for 

intruders.  Set phasers initially on heavy stun, but go 

to higher settings if necessary.  Kirk out." 

     "Captain, I have just monitored some unusual 

activity from the computer," Spock reported. 

     "In what way, Mr. Spock?" asked Kirk. 

     "The computer has cancelled the intruder alert.  It 

now reports that all conditions are normal." 

     "Has the computer been accessed through any 

input channel other than yours?" asked Kirk. 

     "No, Captain.  I have already checked for that 

possibility." 

     "Subspace fields, then.  Or some previously 

unknown energy field?" Kirk suggested. 

     "I have detected nothing out of the ordinary," 

replied Spock. 

     "Then what could have triggered a false intruder 

alert?" demanded Kirk. 

     "Unknown, Captain.  There is no readily available 

data from which to draw conclusions." 

     "Continue checking your equipment, Mr. Spock.  I'll 

get back to you," Kirk ordered.  "Kirk to Security,” he 

continued, “give me a report on the search for 

intruders." 

     "Yes, Sir," replied the security chief, "we have 

reports from all but a few of the lower decks, all 

negative.  If you ask me, Sir, we're not going to find 

anything." 

     "I'll entertain opinions after you've completed your 

search," said Kirk.  "Carry on." 

     Spock intruded on Kirk's thoughts.  "Captain, the 

computers are all functioning properly, but I have 

discovered several additional anomalies.  Personnel 

records indicate that our crew compliment has 

increased by one.  Our access-protected backup 

records support this development." 

     "If the records have been altered, how do you know 

we have an extra person on board?" questioned Kirk. 

     "As a security precaution before our departure 

from Ketridge Alpha I verified the number of persons 

assigned to this ship," calmly explained Spock.  "There were a corresponding number of personnel files in 

our computer memory banks.  I know the number of 

crewmen we departed with, and the number of 

personnel files on record at that time.  The number of 

personnel files has increased by one." 

     "Could one of the files simply be a copy of another?" 

asked Kirk. 

     A moment later Spock replied, "The computer 

verifies that none of the personnel files matches 

another." 

     "Then, how many people are aboard this ship?" 

     After instructing the computer to conduct a ship-

wide scan Spock reported, "One more than when we 

departed Ketridge Alpha." 

     "Speculate, Spock," Kirk implored, "how could 

someone get aboard this ship AND change our 

computer records to mask his presence?" 

     "Security to Captain Kirk." 

     "Kirk here," he replied testily. 

     "Sir, my people have covered this entire ship.  

We've poked into every hole and hiding place there is.  

We've checked personnel identifications and verified 

them against records.  Sir, there is nobody aboard this 

ship who doesn't belong here." 

     "Thank you, Security," said Kirk.  After a moment's 

thought he added, "This ship is going to stay at red 

alert until we start getting some answers that make 

sense." 

     Spock found himself the object of a moment's 

careful study by Kirk.  "Well, Mr. Spock, it seems to me 

that we are left with several intriguing problems.  We 

have lost a very important prisoner.  We, ourselves, 

are lost.  We have experienced an intruder alert with 

no intruder, and, our computer which thinks we have 

an extra crewman is trying to figure out where we 

are." 

     Spock's face remained impassive.  Kirk slowly 

turned around and quietly gazed at the viewscreen, 

reminding himself that he had harbored a bad feeling 

about this Ksariss business since the day it had 

started. 

                           ----  CHAPTER  SEVEN  ---- 

     Commander Kohbrah entered the Talon's bridge 

and stopped just inside the entryway.  He was 

returning with a report from the most recent piece of 

humiliating, pointless busywork assigned to him by 

Ambassador Ksariss.  As instructed, he had 

interviewed each crewmember on the ship, hoping to 

discover for the Ambassador who had restored partial 

power after the blackout, an assignment of a type that 

both he and his crew knew would normally have been 

delegated to one of the ship's junior officers.  The 

substance of his report was that nobody had claimed 

credit for the deed.  Kohbrah was certain that Ksariss 

was not so much interested in identifying a hero as 

she was in again demonstrating to the crew that even 

the ship's Commander was obligated to bow to her 

will.  Kohbrah was rapidly tiring of the Ambassador's 

abusive and pompous reign of terror over his ship, 

and so was his crew.  He remembered the frustrated 

engine room technician who had quietly asked him, 

"How much longer, Sir?" 

     "I am not sure that I understand your question," he 

had replied. 

     "The Ambassador, Sir.  How much longer.. ?" 

     Kohbrah had then successfully repressed an urge to 

smile.  Sternly he had replied, "Until she is by due 

process relieved of command," before departing from 

the engine room. 

     He saw that Ksariss was in the command chair, only 

her right shoulder and part of the back of her head 

visible from where he was standing.  She seemed to be 

leaning to the side, supporting her chin, and 

concentrating on something.  Perhaps some of the 

crewmen at the forward stations had finally begun to 

determine where the ship was currently located.  It 

was about time somebody came up with something, 

he mused.  The ship had remained in the same 

position for hours without reference points upon 

which to base a heading.  In short, they were still lost 

and afraid to move. 

     Kohbrah decided to risk a quick sweep of the 

forward stations before delivering his report to 

Ksariss.  If she objected to his priorities she would not 

keep her disapproval a secret for long.  Ignoring 

Ksariss, he approached the right side of the curved 

line of forward stations and began his inspections of 

the instruments and readouts.  His attention was 

diverted by a movement within a cluster of officers 

who had congregated to study a data printout.  One of 

the seated officers had fallen asleep and had been 

shaken by a concerned comrade who had then 

discreetly cocked his head in the direction of the 

command chair when the dozing officer had regained 

his bearings.  Kohbrah began to calculate how long the 

obviously overextended officers might have been on 

duty.  At the point his calculations had explained why 

the ship's duty officers were falling asleep at their 

posts he was distracted by a loud snort from the 

direction of the command chair.  Ksariss, herself, was 

asleep on the bridge. 

     A single word - enough - was Kohbrah's reaction to 

the situation.  He sharply slapped his open hand onto 

the surface of the console beside him creating a crack 

that echoed throughout the bridge. 

     "This is not right, Ambassador!" Kohbrah shouted 

toward the command chair.  Ksariss bolted upright, 

snapping her head from left to right, seeking the 

source of the report that had startled her.  "Look at 

these crewmen.  They are so fatigued they are putting 

more effort into just keeping awake than into their 

duties.  You, Ambassador, are asleep while in 

command on the bridge!  What would happen if at this 

moment we encountered the Enterprise?  If James 

Kirk could beam over here alone and recapture you, 

you wouldn't even know it had happened until you 

awakened in his ship's brig!" 

     "Alright, Commander!  You have said quite 

enough!" Ksariss angrily returned before rubbing her 

eyes.  After a moment she appeared more calm.  "Your 

points are valid.  Assemble a relief crew and have 

them take over.  Then I will have a word with you in 

private." 

     Within minutes Kohbrah had summoned 

replacements to the bridge.  As they nervously 

occupied the stations before Ksariss in the command 

chair, the officers who had been relieved gratefully 

trudged off the bridge and toward their quarters.  

Ksariss then arose and slowly moved toward the 

doorway, stopping beside it before leaving the bridge.  

She beckoned to Kohbrah, indicating that he should 

join her where she stood.  When he had come to stand 

before her she said, "I also require rest, Commander.  

The ship is yours until I return.  If our location is 

determined I am to be notified immediately.  Before I 

go, I'd like to add this: it's no secret that I don't like 

you.  Don't let that fact inspire you to do anything 

foolish.  I swear I'll return from my grave to avenge 

anything that happens to me." 

     Ksariss then confidently smiled, turned, and 

sashayed down the corridor. 

     Madam, thought Kohbrah, attempting to put you 

into a grave would be a waste of time.  No grave in its 

right mind would have you. 

     Temporarily in command of his own ship, Kohbrah 

had then taken the command chair and had discretely 

monitored the relief crew's efforts at finding out 

where they were.  The waiting, and their frustrating 

lack of progress, gnawed at his patience.  He reached a 

point where he could no longer sit on his hands while 

the less experienced junior officers of the relief crew 

floundered in their labors and deliberations, making 

no more headway than the tired crew they had 

replaced. 

     "Navigation, have you anything to report to me 

yet?" asked Kohbrah impatiently. 

     "No, Sir.  We are still unsure of our location." 

     Well, if nothing else, they have tried, conceded 

Kohbrah.  Their greatest problem is their lack of 

experience.  Perhaps their thinking has been a little 

too narrow-minded.  Perhaps they have been relying 

too heavily on their training, trying to find answers 

within the standard set of possibilities.  Perhaps it is 

time for a less exclusive examination of the problem. 

     "Would one of you explain to me what you have 

been attempting to use for a navigational reference," 

he said after several moments of thought. 

     "Yes, Sir," ventured one of the officers, "we 

attempted to tie in to the Imperial Subspace 

Navigation beacons." 

     "An excellent starting point," said Kohbrah.  "Which 

beacon configuration did you encounter?" 

     "Unfortunately, none, Sir.  We have been unable to 

detect any I-S-N beacons." 

     "No beacons," mused Kohbrah.  "Something of a 

setback, to be sure, but interesting.  What did you 

decide to do after discovering this?" 

     "We attempted to locate a known celestial 

phenomenon, Sir, the Gemini Nebulae." 

     Kohbrah nodded his head in approval.  The Gemini 

Nebulae were another good choice.  They were the 

cloud residues of two stars which had gone nova at 

practically the same time.  Their existence had been 

known to Romulan skywatchers for centuries.  When 

the proper equipment had become available to 

Romulan scientists, it had been discovered that the 

two nebulae exhibited an almost perfect three-to-one 

ratio of ionized iron content between them.  

Knowledge of this had enabled the early Romulan 

stellar navigators to use the Gemini Nebulae as a 

navigation standard.  Although electronic navigation 

had long since superseded stellar navigation, the older 

system's principles were still taught to everyone in 

the fleet. 

     "Have you located the Gemini Nebulae?" asked 

Kohbrah. 

     "No, Sir.  We are still searching for them." 

     "May I ask where you have searched for them?" 

     "Everywhere, Sir." 

     Kohbrah squinted at the forward viewscreen.  "You 

have searched out there?" he asked, pointing at the 

display. 

     "Yes, Sir!" 

     Looking upward, Kohbrah asked, "Have you 

searched above the ship?" 

     "Yes, Sir." 

     "And behind the ship?" 

     "Of course, Sir." 

     Kohbrah looked down between his knees at the 

deck and asked, "Below the ship?" 

     "Affirmative, Sir.  We have covered each and every 

sector around the ship." 

     "I see," said Kohbrah, "and after all this diligent 

searching, you still have not located the Gemini 

Nebulae?" 

     "As I stated before, Sir, we have not." 

     "So we have not found the Gemini Nebulae, and 

have not found the I-S-N beacons," pondered Kohbrah.  

"If we were to disregard these two factors, where 

would our computers tell us we are?" 

     "Sir," said the officer who seemed to have become 

the replacement crew's spokesman, "without 

identifiable reference points, any derived results 

would still not be precise enough for warp travel." 

     "Perhaps not," said Kohbrah patiently, "but just 

because I am curious, let's see what the computers 

would say." 

     The acting navigation officer reconfigured his 

computer's search matrix to incorporate Kohbrah's 

hypothetical suggestions.  After several minutes of 

activity the computer displayed its findings at the 

navigation console. 

     "Would you care to share the conclusions of your 

research with the rest of us?" asked Kohbrah. 

     "They are somewhat disappointing, Sir.  Slightly 

less than an eighty-five percent probability that we 

are within Federation space.  If you accept these 

findings, we could be within several hours impulse 

travel time of their Starfleet Headquarters on Earth." 

     Kohbrah weighed this development for a moment 

and then asked, "Communications Officer, are we 

picking up anything on any known Federation 

communication bands?" 

     "I am receiving nothing, Sir.  In fact, all the known 

Federation communication bands, including those no 

longer in use, are without activity." 

     "Then it is time to review the facts we have 

gathered," stated Kohbrah.  "We have a high, though 

not conclusive probability that we are in Federation 

space.  If the computer is correct, we should be able to 

detect the Gemini Nebulae here, and we cannot.  No 

matter where we are, we should be able to detect our 

subspace I-S-N beacons, and we cannot.  Also, we 

should be able to detect some sign of subspace 

Federation communications, and we cannot.  Does 

anybody care to speculate?" 

     The officers quietly talked among themselves and 

then admitted that they were unable to see anything 

worthy of speculation. 

     "Consider the lack of Federation communications 

activity," Kohbrah suggested.  "Next, think about the 

absence of the Gemini Nebulae, and our own Romulan 

subspace signals.  Has this ship been moved farther in 

space than centuries-old light from the Gemini 

Nebulae and two centuries of Romulan subspace 

signals could have traveled?  I don't believe so.  

Remember, our computer tries to place us near the 

heart of the Federation." 

     "But if we are in the heart of the Federation, Sir, 

where are their communications?" 

     Kohbrah smiled.  "Any communication or broadcast 

signals, regardless of their source, could only be 

detected at the time of their origin or after they were 

emitted." 

     "Sir, are you suggesting that we might have been 

displaced into a time period before the generation of 

these signals?" 

     Kohbrah continued to smile.  "The Gemini Nebulae 

should be detectable in the present, in the future, at 

least for a while, or in the near past.  If they were to 

burn out in the near future, we should still be able to 

detect communications activity." 

     "Sir, your reasoning rules out all time segments 

close to our present.  If we accept your presence of 

communications in the future argument, then you 

would have us believe that we are now located near 

Earth at some time in its past." 

     "It is the only hypothesis which makes sense," 

stated Kohbrah as he leaned forward in the command 

chair.  "However, it is still only a hypothesis, and 

requires further investigation." 

     The junior officers became sidetracked into a 

number of speculative conversations among 

themselves.  "Imagine, our first encounter with 

ancestors of our sworn enemies." 

     "Imagine also what we could do to change the 

course of their history." 

     "Why, we could set their civilizations back 

hundreds, even thousands of years!" 

     "But if we could successfully deal with the human 

problem before it become a threat to the Empire, the 

Ambassador would take credit for everything," 

lamented an officer who had remained quiet during 

the others' enthusiastic conjectures. 

     Kohbrah smiled down from the command chair 

upon the junior officers before him.  He put a finger to 

his lips and whispered, "Perhaps we will put off 

discussing with her what we have discovered." 

     A new round of subdued enthusiasm rippled 

through the group of junior officers.  The Commander 

seemed to be on their side.  Perhaps he was waiting 

for the appropriate time to put the annoying 

Ambassador Ksariss in her place. 

     From the midst of this pocket of quiet elation one of 

the junior officers happened to glance toward the 

entrance to the bridge.  What he saw washed the smile 

from his face.  Others, noting his sudden dismay, 

followed the direction of his gaze, and when they 

understood the change in his mood they collectively 

wished they could disappear rather than face what 

they feared would surely come from the figure in the 

entrance.  All this Kohbrah saw and he guessed what 

must have happened.  He did not bother turning the 

command chair around to face the entrance to the 

bridge. 

     "I am sure that each officer here understands that it 

is not in anybody's best interest to keep secrets from 

the Commanding Officer," said Ksariss calmly while 

leaning on the bulkhead which framed the entrance to 

the bridge.  In her left hand a menacing throwing 

dagger was perched lightly between her index finger 

and thumb.  "Fortunately for you, Kohbrah, you 

continue to be useful to me.  Were it not for that 

redeeming fact, I would have launched my little friend 

here into the back of your neck.  For your future 

reference, I have never believed in dealing lightly with 

mutineers.  Now, let's have no more conspiring and 

talking of secrets.  You seem to have developed a very 

interesting theory to work from.  If that star system on 

the screen is the Terran system, why don't we go in 

there and nose around a little.  See what we can 

discover.  I'll be back shortly to see what you have 

learned." 

     Ksariss pivoted through the doorway and walked 

confidently back toward her cabin.  After overhearing 

the latest developments on the bridge, she 

remembered having uncovered an instructional tape 

on ancient Earth history among Kohbrah's personal 

belongings.  It might be worthwhile to examine its 

contents. 

                                            *    *    * 

     Kirk sat alone at the table in the briefing room, lost 

in his thoughts and massaging a throbbing forehead.  

His current mood was far from optimistic, and each 

time he attempted to attack the questions and 

concerns he felt pressed to deal with, he became more 

and more discouraged.  No matter how he tried to 

look at the ship's present predicament, everything 

seemed to add up to the fact that he had simply lost 

control of everything.  He considered what he might 

have done differently.  Was there anything he had 

overlooked which might have prevented the cascade 

of setbacks from happening?  If there was, it was 

beyond his ability to see it.  He was adrift in a stormy 

sea of questions; a victim of what Spock would say 

was insufficient data.  Hours of unproductive 

wrestling with the obviously unanswerable was 

undoubtedly what had made his headache return. 

     Another question drifted into focus. What force or 

reason was responsible for everything going wrong?  

Finding no joy in a question he could at last answer, 

Kirk quietly acknowledged the response that formed 

in his mind.  Trelane, he believed, was the driving 

impetus behind the present predicament, and at the 

moment the entity he knew as a precocious, 

omnipotent brat was nowhere to be found. 

     As a precaution, Kirk had earlier authorized Spock 

to conduct another careful search of the ship for either 

the undiscovered intruder or the cause of the alarm 

having been triggered.  The crew's best efforts had 

failed to provide him with a satisfactory resolution of 

the matter.  Then, bowing to more pressing matters, 

Kirk had relieved Spock of investigating the extra 

crewman problem, and had reassigned him to 

determining the coordinates of their present location.  

Later, tired of trying to ignore the increasing, 

pounding pain, and distressed about how it kept him 

from making headway, Kirk opened a channel to the 

bridge. 

     "Yes, Captain?" answered the voice of Spock. 

     "Have you made any progress, Mr. Spock?" Kirk 

asked. 

     "None, Captain.  And you?" 

     "Same here.  Is there anything which indicates that 

the ship is in any immediate danger?" 

     "No, Captain.  None of the readings suggest a cause 

for alarm." 

     "Very well, Spock.  I'd like you to take care of my 

ship for a little while.  You can start by downgrading 

the ship's alert status from red to yellow.  If I am 

needed for anything, you'll find me in sick bay." 

     "Acknowledged, Captain.” 

     Kirk left the briefing room.  As he walked toward 

the turbolift he tried to anticipate the effect his 

mission reports would have on his chances for a 

promotion to the Admiralty, if he really was being 

seriously considered.  Before taking the Romulan spy 

on board he was sure the Admiralty would have had 

little to criticize about his performance.  But now, with 

having lost his prisoner and ending up so lost that 

Spock was having trouble finding out where they 

were, he really wasn't so sure.  Even for promotion to 

Starship Captain there was precious little room for 

mistakes.  Becoming an Admiral meant meeting even 

stricter standards of performance.  He hadn't yet 

decided if he wanted to accept a position in the 

Admiralty if it was offered to him, but he felt that if for 

any reason he would not be the person to fill the 

currently available position at Headquarters, in the 

long run it would be better for his career if he had 

declined his superiors' offer rather than having been 

passed over because his superiors felt he wasn't up to 

the job. 

     When he arrived in sick bay, McCoy was not at his 

desk.  He heard the doctor's voice in another room 

and called, "Bones.. ?" 

     "In here, Captain," answered McCoy from the room 

closest to his desk. 

     Kirk stuck his head inside and saw McCoy attending 

to an injured crewman.  McCoy turned to the door, 

and Kirk apologized, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you 

were that busy." 

     "Did you need to see me, Captain?" asked McCoy. 

     "Yes.. " 

     "Is it an emergency?" 

     "Not exactly an emergency. ." 

     "If it's not an emergency I'll have to ask you to take 

a number and wait.  I have one more injury to look at 

after this one." 

     "I understand," said Kirk.  "I'll just wait. .out here." 

     Kirk returned to the waiting room, looked at the 

chairs, and then went into the nearby examination 

room to recline on one of the examination tables, 

hoping that by getting off his feet he could lessen 

some of the pain of his headache.  He suddenly 

became aware that he was incredibly tired.  In spite of 

this, he resolved to remain alert enough to pop up and 

join McCoy at his desk when he returned from 

treating his more seriously disabled patients. 

     When McCoy had finished with his last patient, he 

returned to his waiting room hoping that Kirk was the 

last medical problem he needed to treat for a while.  

Whatever had tossed the ship about had caused 

enough injuries to keep him busy for several long 

hours.  Before he could rest there was still 

administrative work to be done, mostly reviewing the 

changes and updates to medical records and reports 

of stores used.  He was surprised that Kirk had not 

remained in his waiting room as he had promised.  He 

was about to assume that Kirk might have been called 

away on some important matter when he heard a 

slight stirring from the examination room.  He quietly 

looked in and saw Kirk asleep, rolling over to settle 

himself into a new position on the first examination 

table.  He checked Kirk with several medical scanners 

and found signs of fatigue and stress, including a 

stress-induced tightening of his scalp muscles which 

could explain why he had come to sick bay in the first 

place.  McCoy was certain that Kirk had finally pushed 

his mind and body to a point where they had simply 

refused to absorb more neglect until given the rest 

they needed.  McCoy started sorting through a mental 

list of medications which might help Kirk, but soon 

dropped the entire idea.  In this case, he thought, some 

good old-fashioned sleep would fix what was wrong 

with the Captain much better than any medications he 

could offer. 

     McCoy returned to his desk and opened a channel 

to the bridge.  A moment later Spock responded to his 

summons, "Yes, Doctor?" 

     "How is everybody doing on the bridge, Mr. Spock?" 

McCoy cheerfully asked. 

     "There appear to be no problems," Spock reported.  

Then he stopped and thought a moment, and after 

raising an eyebrow he commented, "It is out of 

character for you to gather such information in this 

manner, Doctor.  Why did you really call me?" 

     "I wanted to report that the Captain is visiting 

down here," said McCoy.  He added quietly, "He is 

currently exhibiting symptoms of stress and fatigue.  I 

am currently monitoring a spontaneous resultant 

physiological recuperative process which I believe is 

the best treatment under the circumstances." 

     "Understood, Doctor," said Spock as he continued 

with his work.  "Would the Captain be available if he is 

needed?" 

     "I suppose that if conditions warranted it I could 

interrupt the process," McCoy replied. 

     "Very well, Doctor," said Spock.  "I wish you success with your chosen course of treatment.  In the 

meantime I shall work toward completing my 

assigned task." 

     After signing off, McCoy buried himself in his 

remaining administrative work.  Not long after 

finishing with it he nodded off to sleep himself, 

slouched in the chair behind his desk.  Sometime later 

a half-awake James Kirk poked his tousled head back 

into McCoy's office and saw McCoy asleep behind his 

desk.  Kirk shuffled to the replicator and ordered two 

steaming cups of coffee.  He kept one for himself, and 

placed the other in front of McCoy on his desk.  

McCoy's eyes fluttered open the second time Kirk 

spoke his name. 

     As McCoy straightened himself in his chair he 

noticed the cup of coffee.  As he reached for it Kirk 

took a sip of his own and smiled, "If I decide to press 

charges, your sleeping on duty could be a court 

martial offense, Doctor." 

     "If I hadn't previously advised you to get some 

sleep yourself, Captain, I'd throw that right back at 

you," dourly responded McCoy. 

     "Did you know I was asleep in there?" asked Kirk. 

     "I did." 

     "How long was I out?" 

     "Two, maybe three hours." 

     "I should be angry with you for allowing me to take 

a nap while I have the ship on alert," Kirk mentioned 

with a subtle hint of seriousness in his voice. 

     "Why did you come to see me in the first place?" 

asked McCoy ignoring the implications of what Kirk 

had just said. 

     "That headache came back, with a vengeance," 

explained Kirk.  "I thought you might have been able 

to prescribe something else for it." 

     "Do you have the headache now?" asked McCoy. 

     "No.  Come to think of it, I feel much better now." 

     "That's because your doctor figured that a little cat 

nap would do you more good than mixing more 

analgesic chemicals in with your problems." 

     Kirk instinctively tightened at McCoy's mention of 

his 'problems'. 

     "I did consider some medicinal options, Jim," McCoy 

continued, "but coupled with what I had administered 

to you previously, most of them would have 

temporarily turned your brain to mush, and that's a 

condition you wouldn't want to be in if there were 

important decisions to be made.  Actually, you did the 

best thing you could have done to deal with your 

problem.  You left the ship in good hands and came to 

see your doctor for treatment, and at the end of that 

treatment, by your own admission, you find yourself 

fit enough to return to duty." 

     "Is that what your report will say?" asked Kirk. 

     "What report?" asked McCoy innocently.  "You 

came down here to check on the crew's injuries, didn't 

you?" 

     "I suppose I did," said Kirk, grateful for McCoy's 

discretion.  "How are my injured crewmembers?" 

     "All on the road to recovery," said McCoy.  "In fact, 

I'm worrying less about them than I am about that 

scruffy Captain Voxul from the Prinche Gayul.  There's 

some subtle difference in his makeup that keeps him 

from responding to our medications as fast as I'm 

used to.  Don't get me wrong, he's improving, but he's 

doing it slowly.  All I can do now is monitor him 

'round the clock and wait." 

     Kirk's eyes had narrowed.  "Keep him alive, Bones.  

I'll need what he knows for Starfleet's investigation of 

my prisoner's liberation." 

     "You've had things go wrong before, Jim.  Why are 

you so sensitive about this incident?" 

     Kirk remained silent.  McCoy was poking into things 

he wasn't exactly ready to discuss, not even with a 

friend. 

     "If I know my Starship Captains, this all comes back 

to that rumored promotion doesn't it?" McCoy 

prodded. 

     Kirk was close to telling McCoy to mind his own 

business.  If he was a friend he would let the matter 

rest.  I'm perfectly capable of dealing with my career 

options on my own, Kirk thought to himself. 

     "You look like you're about ready to tell me off," 

McCoy said with a smile. 

     Kirk swallowed hard.  He was on the edge of an 

emotional explosion that he didn't want to have 

ignited. 

     "I already know what you're thinking, Jim," McCoy 

continued.  "You're thinking that you're the Captain, 

and that you're solely responsible for everything that 

happens on your ship.  You've already heaped all the 

blame for this situation on yourself, and you're 

expecting Starfleet to do the same thing, and rub it in a 

little for good measure.  Maybe they'll say 'Jim Kirk 

isn't fit for another promotion.  Just look at how he 

screwed up the simplest assignment we gave him in 

years.'" 

     Kirk leaped to his feet and smashed his fist onto 

McCoy's desk.  "Why does that amuse you so, Doctor?" 

he demanded. 

     "It doesn't amuse me," replied McCoy calmly.  "It 

makes me sad.  Captain, as your ship's Chief Medical 

Officer I am going to ask you an official question, and 

in that same capacity I am going to demand a truthful 

answer.  This possibility of a promotion, this 

possibility of displacing you from the freedom of a 

starship to the confinement of an earthbound desk; 

it's a threat to something you value a great deal, isn't 

it?" 

     Kirk sat down again, studying McCoy intently.  His 

eyes left McCoy's, and he blurted out, "I don't know, 

Bones." 

     "I can't accept that," McCoy said.  "Why can't you 

give me a yes or no answer?  Do you really want a 

promotion?" 

     "Yes, I think I do," Kirk admitted, "but I'm not sure of when I want it." 

     "That sounds to me like a man who's concerned 

with keeping his options open," observed McCoy. 

     "I'll admit to that," said Kirk quietly. 

     "Then tell me what you think threatens your 

options." 

     "Just look at how this mission has turned out," said 

Kirk. 

     "I see," said McCoy.  "At least, I see enough to know 

that I've been right.  You think that this less than 

textbook perfect mission will shut down your chances 

for a promotion now and forever.  And maybe you're 

afraid that refusing an offered promotion now would 

keep you from consideration when you'd be ready to 

accept one later, assuming of course that you're not 

ready now." 

     Kirk started to smile. 

     "Let me tell you what I think," McCoy offered.  "I 

think that Starfleet will look closely at this entire 

mission.  I think they'll admit that any Starship 

Captain could have made the same command choices 

you made up to this point.  In fact, if memory serves, 

they've already said they don't blame you for the loss 

of the prisoner.  You've bumped into something that is 

challenging your ability to deal with it.  How you meet 

that challenge will determine whether or not you're fit 

enough for a higher office.  Personally, I believe you 

are, or you will be when you're ready for it.  There's 

no great rush to get to the top.  Make sure you're 

really ready before you say 'yes' to the chair when it's 

pulled out for you." 

     The prolonged, silent eye contact between Kirk and 

McCoy delighted McCoy, though he tried not to show 

it.  It meant that Kirk was at last thinking about things 

that had needed to be said for quite a while. 

     "Thanks, Bones.  It has helped to talk about this 

with someone," Kirk finally admitted. 

     "Two things before you go," said McCoy.  "First, 

you're still under doctor's orders to get more rest.  A 

setback is always worse when you're tired.  And 

second, lighten up on yourself a little.  You've got the 

best crew in the whole of Starfleet to back you up.  

Follow my advice once, and you may live long enough 

to retire." 

     Kirk stood up.  "Thanks again, Doctor.  I should be 

getting back to the bridge.  If I - excuse me - if 'we' 

don't soon find out where we are, Starfleet will have a 

devil of a time figuring out where to send my pension 

payments." 

     Kirk left sick bay and had walked well down the 

corridor before McCoy's intercom announced, "Spock 

to Dr. McCoy.  Is Captain Kirk still within your 

facility?" 

     "Not any more, Mr. Spock.  Our much recovered 

Captain Kirk is on his way to the bridge." 

     Minutes later Kirk walked onto the bridge and went 

to the command chair.  He surveyed the busy 

personnel at the various stations on the bridge and 

admitted that McCoy had been right.  His was the best 

crew in all of Starfleet. 

     Spock had been making final checks on a collection 

of data he had assembled during Kirk's absence from 

the bridge.  He instructed his station computer to save 

his information onto a tape, and then turned to Kirk, 

observing, "I see that Dr. McCoy has wrought another 

of his medical miracles." 

     "Indeed he has," Kirk grinned, "in his own strange 

and mysterious way.  Have you discovered anything 

that will help us yet?" 

     "Possibly," Spock said cautiously.  "Accumulated 

data from our sensors and several observations from 

our bridge personnel have brought to light a, shall we 

say, interesting theory." 

     "Sounds intriguing," said Kirk.  "Let's hear what 

you've put together." 

     "First of all, Captain, Lt. Uhura has reported that all 

communications channels are completely devoid of 

activity." 

     "We must have been thrown pretty far not to pick 

up any communications signals," Kirk observed. 

     "That possibility was considered," Spock explained.  

"Using the assumption that we had been displaced 

over a great distance necessitated the preparation of a 

logical sequence of search parameters for the 

computers.  I was working on this when Mr. Sulu and 

Mr. Chekov started pointing out star patterns that 

they believed were similar to familiar constellations 

seen from Earth.  When the computers were fed this 

information, they suggested that we might be located 

just outside Earth's own solar system.  The reason our 

computers derived a mere suggestion instead of a 

conclusion from that data is because the indicated star 

patterns are not an exact match for what we should 

see from this sector of the galaxy.  Please observe the 

viewscreen as I magnify the outlined section in the 

upper right quadrant.  The star now in the center of 

the screen is given a high probability of being Polaris, 

Earth's north polar star.  Notice what happens when I 

project Polaris' anticipated position from these 

coordinates onto the screen." 

     Kirk saw two distinct points of light on the 

viewscreen.  "If that is Polaris, why isn't it where the 

computer expects it to be?" he asked. 

     "The answer to that question eluded me until I 

began to factor in the phenomenon of stellar drift - the 

slow movement of stars to different positions over 

long periods of time, along with the possibilities of our 

hypothetical northern or southern placements with 

references to the host star’s orbital plane" said Spock.  

"I am instructing the computer to project the 

anticipated location in our century of each identified 

star on the viewscreen." 

     Spock's action made the viewscreen display look 

like an old photograph taken by an unsteadied 

camera.  Each star on the screen was now 

complemented with a duplicate which was in some 

cases projected close enough to other stars to form 

the illusion of streaks instead of crisp points of light. 

     Spock continued to enter instructions into his 

computer.  "Watch the screen carefully, Captain, as I 

change the stardate of the projected stars to reflect a 

regression through time." 

     The numerical representation of the projected 

stars' stardate, shown in the lower right corner of the 

viewscreen, began to change rapidly, reflecting the 

display's retrogression through time.  As the display 

raced into the past the projected stars converged onto 

the coordinates of the actual stars on the viewscreen.  

Finally, when there was no discernable difference 

between the viewscreen's star display and Spock's 

projection, he halted the simulation. 

     "Please notice, Captain," Spock said, "that the 

displayed stardate corresponds to a time 

approximately three thousand years in the past.  For 

each star's anticipated location to correspond to its 

currently observed location, as it does now on the 

viewscreen, this ship would have had to travel 

approximately three thousand years into the past." 

     "Are you absolutely certain of this?" Kirk asked.  It 

wasn't the most logical question to put to one's Vulcan 

Science Officer, who wouldn't have even mentioned 

the possibility if there wasn't a chance it could be true.  

It was just that Spock's revelations had caught him off 

guard.  The Enterprise had survived two previous 

time jumps, each one covering a journey of several 

hundred years, but each time it had taken every ounce 

of power the ship could generate to make it possible.  

He couldn't imagine how any known technology could 

produce the power required to propel anything three 

thousand years through time. 

     "The acquisition of additional data is essential to 

the verification of this hypothesis," stated Spock.  

"However, the complete absence of electromagnetic or 

subspace communications makes the possibility of a 

time displacement into the past the more likely 

explanation." 

     Kirk thought for a moment.  "Alright, Mr. Spock, if 

it's more data you need, then more data you shall 

have.  Helm, take us into this star system at one-

quarter impulse power.  Sensors to maximum.  Let's 

see what we pick up." 

                           ----  CHAPTER  EIGHT  ---- 

     Ambassador Ksariss walked slowly onto the bridge 

of the Talon.  The members of the bridge crew were so 

absorbed in their accumulating and analyzing data 

that nobody noticed and announced her arrival.  She 

considered criticizing that insulting breech of 

protocol, but the fact that everybody was so hard at 

work and so productively getting somewhere made 

her feel somewhat more forgiving.  She approached 

the command chair and stood beside it where she 

again remained unnoticed as Kohbrah leaned forward 

to look over the shoulders of crewmen absorbed in 

discussing new data readouts in front of him. 

     Ksariss cleared her throat, breaking Kohbrah's  

concentration.  "If you could make your posterior 

unstick itself from my command chair, you would find 

it much easier to be a part of the junior officers' 

deliberations, Commander," she loudly observed. 

     Ksariss' humiliating comment had been heard all 

around the bridge.  Kohbrah turned and shot Ksariss 

an angry look, but he held his tongue.  He slowly arose 

and gestured grandly for her to take the seat. 

     Ksariss' eyebrows narrowed, and her incensed eyes 

burned into those of Kohbrah.  In a scorching, intense 

tone she said to Kohbrah, "Let's set one important 

matter straight, Commander.  I hold the rank of 

Ambassador At Large, a deserved and unique honor 

bestowed upon me and witnessed by every member 

of the Romulan Senate.  I do so greatly outrank you, 

soldier boy!  If you trifle with me, if you push me to 

the limits of my tolerance, you can rest assured that 

your piddling career will at that moment have 

effectively ended!" 

     With everyone's eyes upon her she smartly claimed 

the command chair.  The silence on the bridge 

reassured her that she still held the crew in a tight 

rein.  With calm confidence she addressed Kohbrah.  

"Thank you for looking after my chair, Commander.  I 

see that your men have been busy.  Please prepare for 

me a report of their progress." 

     Kohbrah took an uncomfortably long time to 

absorb Ksariss' latest challenges to his dignity.  Then, 

without any show of emotion, he went to circulate 

among the junior officers, talking, discussing, and 

collecting the information they had to offer.  All this 

time he was aware that Ksariss was slyly watching 

him over the top of a handful of handwritten notes she 

had brought along to the bridge to study.  Her face 

revealed nothing of what she might be thinking.  

When he had interviewed each of the officers at the 

forward stations he returned to make his report to 

Ksariss. 

     "Yes, Commander?" she inquired without looking 

up from her notes. 

     "I have a summary of the crew's investigations, as 

you requested," said Kohbrah. 

     "I did not 'request', Commander, I 'ordered'," said Ksariss pleasantly.  "Think for a moment about the 

difference, and then you may continue." 

     There was a momentary flicker of anger on 

Kohbrah's face which Ksariss did not see.  As he 

swallowed he looked as though he was trying to force 

an unchewed hand disruptor down his throat. 

     "We are still not completely certain that we are in 

the Federation's Terran system," said Kohbrah a 

moment later, "but the information we are collecting 

seems to be pressing us closer to that conclusion.  We 

have detected eight major planetary bodies in the 

system.  The collected information for the four outer 

planets corresponds to our best data on the Terran 

system, but it is proving difficult to explain why there 

are major deviations from the orbital readings we 

would expect to be collecting from three of the four 

inner planets." 

     Ksariss put down the papers that had held her 

attention.  "What do you mean by 'major deviations', 

Commander?" she asked. 

     "There are no deviations for the first and innermost 

planet, Ambassador.  However, if this is the Terran 

system, the second planet should be in a nearly 

perfect circular orbit.  Our calculations show that its 

orbit is extremely eccentric.  This orbital irregularity 

becomes a minor discovery when compared to our 

calculated orbits for the third and fourth planets." 

     Kohbrah stopped at this point to mentally review 

the information he was presenting.  Before he stated 

the conclusion to which the data pointed he felt a need 

to reexamine it for a flaw or misinterpretation. 

Ksariss waited patiently for Kohbrah to continue.  At 

last, finding no glaring errors, he finished his report. 

     "The last and most interesting deviation is that 

within several weeks the third planet will be struck 

and destroyed by the system's fourth planet, which for 

some reason seems to have completely abandoned the 

orbit it should be occupying." 

     "If this is the Terran system, the third planet would 

be Earth, would it not?" asked Ksariss thoughtfully. 

     "That is true," responded Kohbrah. 

     "And you are certain of the impending impact 

between planets four and three?" asked Ksariss. 

     "Yes, we are." 

     "If proven valid, this could be an opportunity of 

value beyond description!" exclaimed an excited 

Ksariss.  "To witness, and to document the destruction 

of humankind and their world before they even learn 

how to lift themselves off the surface of their planet!  

To even be associated with such a report might even 

save your imperiled career, Commander!" 

     "These honors may never be awarded, 

Ambassador," interrupted Kohbrah, who had again 

become annoyed with Ksariss' seemingly 

inexhaustible capacity for flinging barbs in his 

direction.  "There is still uncertainty that this system 

is the home of the humans.  We have also not 

positively identified the time period in which the 

predicted events will take place." 

     "Then how do we eliminate this uncertainty," 

challenged Ksariss. 

     "Perhaps a closer look at the doomed third planet 

would be in order," suggested Kohbrah. 

     Ksariss carefully considered Kohbrah's proposal, 

looking carefully beneath its attractive exterior glitter 

for any devious ways it could be used to discredit her.  

When she had at last convinced herself that Kohbrah's 

suggestion held no ulterior purpose, she said, "We 

shall act on your proposal, Commander.  See to it that 

a thorough planetary survey is carried out.  It would 

be prudent to engage our cloaking device until we are 

certain of our status.  I shall be in my quarters 

preparing to analyze the collected data." 

     As she left the bridge Kohbrah glared after her.  

How easy it would be to engineer an accident, he 

thought, if only the ship had been designed with an 

airlock in his former quarters. 

                                          *    *    * 

     The Enterprise had moved carefully into the star 

system which Spock believed was the home of the 

planet Earth.  He worked tirelessly for hours as data 

streamed into his station.  Solar, planetary, and lunar 

masses, sizes and compositions, gravitational and 

magnetic field measurements, calculated orbits, and 

much, much more had been documented. 

     Kirk's patience became stretched to its limit.  When 

he could contain his curiosity no longer he casually 

walked toward the science station and watched Spock 

directing various sequences of data to appropriate 

groupings.  "Any preliminary conclusions, Mr. Spock," 

he asked. 

     "At this time I have no conclusions, Captain," Spock 

said while monitoring an incoming data sequence, 

"although some of the available data strongly 

supports the theory that we are in the Terran system." 

     Two short beeps sounded from the chronometer at 

the science station.  Spock placed the computers into 

an automatic data filing mode and wrote an entry into 

his station log.  "It is time to relieve the bridge crew, 

Captain," he explained to Kirk.  "With your 

permission.. " 

     "Of course, Mr. Spock.  Permission granted." 

     In a moment the turbolift door opened and the first 

arrivals of the relief crew headed toward their 

stations.  Kirk watched Chekov and Sulu leave while 

they intently discussed things that had occurred on 

their shift.  When he turned his attention back to 

Spock he was surprised to see his first officer studying 

the two crewmen who had replaced Chekov and Sulu. 

     Kirk discretely asked "Is something wrong, Spock?" 

     Quietly Spock asked, "Do you remember an earlier 

conversation where I related how I had checked the 

personnel files of all our assigned crew members?" 

     Spock's eyes never left the pair of crewmen at the 

helm and navigation consoles as Kirk responded, 

"Does this have something to do with your extra 

crewman?" 

     "Possibly," Spock speculated.  After several seconds 

of thought he added, "I remember scanning the record 

of the navigator, Ensign Samuel Kramer, but it is the 

helmsman who disturbs me.  His face was not in the 

records I checked before our departure from Ketridge 

Alpha." 

     As he finished speaking, Spock accessed the 

computer's personnel files.  He quickly narrowed his 

search to crewmen qualified as starship helmsmen, 

and then isolated the file of the man currently piloting 

the Enterprise. 

     "Have you ever seen him before.. " Kirk asked, 

"anywhere on the ship?" 

     "I have never seen this crewman before, Jim.  Nor 

have I ever examined this particular personnel file." 

     Kirk had detected a subtle change in the timbre of 

Spock's voice which left him with the impression that 

it was important to Spock he be believed in this 

matter. 

     "I have a suggestion, Mr. Spock," Kirk said aloud.  

"Why don't you run a few quick checks on this 

undocumented file and make sure it's harmless.  If you 

can't figure out what it is, quarantine it from the rest 

of the system memory.  We can always straighten it 

out at a better time." 

     "Understood, Captain," replied Spock.  "Thank you 

for your assistance." 

     Once again Spock set to work at his station while 

Kirk returned to his command chair.  He was creating 

a loose mental outline of a get-acquainted 

conversation he planned to have with Kramer and the 

other new man.  He was hoping to let a short period of 

time pass before approaching them so that his 

interview would not seem to be connected with his 

last conversation with Spock.  He busied himself for a 

while with administrative chores, and then got up to 

stretch his legs.  He strolled casually around the front 

of the forward consoles, occasionally watching 

everyone working on the bridge.  At last, he innocently 

dropped his gaze to the forward consoles and looked 

as though he had remembered something he had 

recently forgotten. 

     "Excuse me," he said.  "You crewmen just recently 

transferred aboard, didn't you?"  Then he looked at 

the navigator, saying, "I think I remember seeing you 

busy with the library computers.  Ensign. . Samuel 

Kramer.  Historical files, mostly.  Am I correct?" 

     Ensign Kramer stood and offered Kirk his hand.  

"Correct, Sir," he smiled.  "Earth's ancient history is a 

lifelong passion of mine." 

     "Sounds interesting," said Kirk.  "I have a few 

favorite historical periods of my own.  We'll have to 

compare notes sometime." 

"I'd like that, Sir," responded Kramer. 

     Kirk turned to the helmsman.  "I'm afraid I owe you 

an apology, Ensign.  I usually make a point of 

reviewing the records of my new transferees, but the 

way things have been piling up around here I've either 

forgotten everything I might have read about you, or I 

simply haven't gotten to it yet." 

     "That's quite understandable, Captain," said the 

second new crewman affably as he stood and offered 

his hand.  "My name is Sabat.  Gari Sabat.  My 

assignment here was kind of rushed, so it's possible 

my records are still on the bottom of a pile of more 

important things." 

     Sabat wore a mustache and well-trimmed beard 

that did an outstanding job of masking something 

hauntingly familiar which Kirk sensed as he looked 

into the man's eyes.  "It's regrettable if they are," Kirk 

apologized.  "There are few things more important 

than a Captain getting to know his crew.  I'll make a 

special effort to read them thoroughly as soon as I can.  

Welcome aboard." 

     "Thank you, Captain," Sabat smiled as he sat down 

and returned to his duties. 

     At the science station, Spock turned his chair 

around and faced Kirk.  "Captain, the collected data on 

the inner planets is ready for your review.  There are 

findings which should be of interest to you." 

     Kirk went to examine Spock's newest information.  

He was unable to focus his eyes on the tiny display 

within the protective hood at the science station.  "I 

think this will work better if you just project it on the 

forward viewscreen," he said to Spock. 

     Spock projected a map of the star system they were 

exploring onto the screen.  It was drawn to scale, and 

showed the location and distance of each of the 

planets from the host star.  Kirk soon noticed that 

several items of displayed data for the inner planets 

could not possibly be correct if he was looking at a 

map of the Terran system. 

     "Could you redraw the display to focus on the four 

inner planets, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked. 

     Spock complied, and the viewscreen showed an 

inner planet display that soon commanded everyone's 

attention.  The projected orbit of the second planet, 

which should have been nearly perfectly circular, was 

noticeably out-of-round, and it passed uncomfortably 

close to the orbits of its neighbors.  The projected 

orbits of the third and fourth planets foretold an 

inevitable collision. 

     Even though the viewscreen display was clearly 

visible from anywhere on the bridge, Ensign Kramer 

got up from his chair and walked around the front of 

his console for a closer look.  Upon seeing this, Kirk 

left the science station and stood behind the command 

chair, waiting for Kramer to do or say something 

which would explain his behavior.  Kramer turned 

around and searched for Kirk. 

     "I don't believe this!" he exclaimed.  "It's 

Velikovsky.  Immanuel Velikovsky!  Don't you see?" 

     Kirk could not fathom the significance of the name, 

so he turned questioningly to Spock. 

     "Dr. Immanuel Velikovsky," said Spock after a 

moment's reflection, "published a series of works on 

Earth in the 1950's which were, in their day, 

considered a radical interpretation of events 

preserved in ancient Earth historical and religious 

accounts.  His theories made fascinating reading, but 

they conflicted strongly with widely accepted beliefs 

in many sciences and religions.  A strong coalition of 

conservative minds expended a great effort in 

discrediting Dr. Velikovsky's theories, and kept them 

from serious scientific examination.  If you will recall 

Trelane's earlier visit, he mentioned the death of Dr. 

Albert Einstein.  Some proponents of Dr. Velikovsky's 

theories were fond of mistakenly relating how Albert 

Einstein died with an open volume of Dr. Velikovsky's 

WORLDS IN COLLISION on his desk.  You will 

remember that Trelane also alluded to this 

occurrence." 

     "How does all that apply to our problem?" Kirk 

asked. 

     Spock studied the viewscreen before saying, "It is 

possible that the displayed planetary array on the 

viewscreen could be interpreted as loosely applying to 

one of the scenarios in Dr. Velikovsky's writings." 

     "I'm starting to remember a little about this Dr. 

Velikovsky," said Kirk contemplatively.  "A lot of 

people thought his ideas should have been ignored." 

     "I would not dismiss Ensign Kramer's observation 

lightly, Captain," warned Spock.  "Remember, the 

scientific data collected for this system is accurate.  

The fourth and third planets will collide, whether they 

are Mars and Earth, or not.  We have not conclusively 

disproved the possibility. ." 

     "So you believe this is worth further investigation?" 

proposed Kirk.  He had interrupted Spock because the 

implication that his home planet might be destroyed 

long before he was ever born was a tangle of logic he 

was trying to avoid until he was absolutely forced to 

deal with it. 

     "More time is needed to assemble relevant 

material, Captain," replied Spock.  "If Trelane's devices 

have now enabled him to study Earth's twentieth 

century, then it is possible that he has become aware 

of the writings of Dr. Velikovsky through their 

association with Dr. Einstein.  Recall also that we have 

previously witnessed the capabilities of Trelane's 

previous devices; for instance, the ability to move a 

planet through space at will.  Logically, we are forced 

to consider the possibility that he could have created 

the planetary array we have discovered in this 

system." 

     "How could we collect the additional information 

you need?" asked Kirk. 

     A loud, grating alarm interrupted their discussion. 

     "Brace yourselves for attack!" shouted Ensign Sabat as he stabbed at the controls on his console. 

     Before Kirk fully understood what had happened, 

Sabat had raised the shields and had plunged the 

Enterprise into a radical evasive maneuver which 

taxed the gravity compensators' abilities to negate the 

powerful resulting inertial effects.  People and 

unsecured objects were buffeted and thrown about.  

On the viewscreen a spread of photon torpedoes 

sizzled by, seemingly close enough to have left lines of 

char on the outer hull.  A late-arriving torpedo from 

the spread impacted the side shields in a glancing 

blow.  The ship shuddered as the torpedo's blinding 

explosive energy was dissipated. 

     Sabat's expert handling of the ship was placing it in 

a position to attempt returning fire at whatever had 

attacked them.  Spock had managed to crawl back to 

his station and switch his sensors on line. 

     "Our assailant is the Romulan warship, Talon, 

Captain," he reported. 

     How - Kirk wondered.  Three thousand years in the 

past, and still being harassed by Romulan lunatics? 

     "Phasers armed and locked on, Sir," reported Sabat. 

     It would have been better if you had given me 

photon torpedoes, Kirk thought before realizing that 

loading torpedoes into the launch tubes would have 

been impossible during the maneuver Sabat had just 

put the ship through. 

     "Range!" demanded Kirk. 

     "Near the effective limit, Sir," responded Sabat. 

     If the Enterprise is going to respond, it has to be 

before the Romulan ship is out of range or hidden by 

its cloaking device, thought Kirk.  "Fire phasers, 

Ensign!" he ordered. 

     Sabat's shots were accurate.  The bolts of phaser 

energy raced toward the Talon, striking and 

illuminating its rear shields.  Kirk's excitement ebbed 

rapidly as he remembered the range at which the 

shots had been attempted. 

     Spock peered into his hooded display at the science 

station.  "Direct hits, Captain, though only minimal 

damage," he reported. 

     The door of the turbolift opened, and the only living 

creature in it, a wide-eyed, terrified black cat, leaped 

onto the bridge.  Hugging the floor it streaked toward 

the forward consoles and leaped onto the lap of 

Ensign Sabat setting its front claws firmly into his 

uniform shirt.  He winced, and with one hand tried to 

calm the cat, while with the other, pilot the ship. 

     "You should not have come here," he said 

soothingly to the cat as it howled and looked into his 

eyes.  "Yes, I understand.  You were frightened.  Yes, 

everything is alright now.  No.  Alright, you may 

remain with me for a while, but you must be quiet and 

not get in the way.  I still have work to do." 

     A busy moment later Sabat reported, "Sir, I have 

laid in an intercept course." 

     "Captain, the Romulans appear to be engaging their 

cloaking device," added Spock. 

     "Thank you, gentlemen," acknowledged Kirk, 

shifting his eyes from the black cat and its collar 

decorated with large, sparkling white gemstones, to 

the forward viewscreen.  "Prepare a full spread of 

photon torpedoes and let’s find where that Romulan 

ship has gone." 

     Before Kirk's order could be carried out there was a 

blinding flash of light on the bridge.  As his vision 

recovered, Kirk saw Trelane standing before the main 

viewscreen  attired in a shining metal breastplate and 

a knee-length leather kilt.  On one outstretched arm 

he carried a shield, and in the hand of the other, a long 

spear.  A heavy iron sword hung on his hip, suspended 

from a leather belt around his waist. 

     "Belay that last order," he shouted gleefully as he 

pointed clumsily with his spear toward Sabat's 

station.  "You'll only be wasting your pitiful stock of 

fireworks." 

     Trelane then scanned the entire bridge and beamed 

a great smile.  "Wonderful!  You're all here!" he 

exclaimed.  "Come, Captain Kirk.  Come, Commander 

Spock.  It's time for the next level of the game!" 

     Again there was a great flash of light, and when it 

had dissipated, the only noticeable change was that 

Trelane, Captain Kirk, and Commander Spock were no 

longer present on the bridge of the Enterprise. 

                                            *    *    * 

     Commander Kohbrah had ordered the cloaked 

Romulan warship Talon onto a heading which would 

eventually take it into a high orbit around the blue and 

wispy-white third planet.  The Talon's sensors were 

detecting nothing to indicate the planet was inhabited 

by a technologically advanced race.  More strongly 

than ever Kohbrah believed that his ship had 

somehow come to exist at an unspecified time in the 

past: a time when ancestors of the known advanced 

civilized races in the galaxy were making their first 

efforts at communal living, or establishing their great 

ancient empires, or beginning to understand the 

benefits of logic and science over superstition and 

fear.  Whether he still existed in his own present, or 

had reemerged in the past, Kohbrah still technically 

commanded a ship capable of travel between the 

stars.  That much had not changed.  What had changed 

was the fact that if his ship actually now did exist in 

the past, there were no known friendly ports to visit.  

Not for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years.  

The absence of artificial electromagnetic signals and 

evidence of grand engineering works from a world 

that Kohbrah knew had achieved a level of scientific 

development on par with his own made Kohbrah feel 

very much alone in the universe. 

     Suddenly a loud, pulsating alarm at the 

communications station wrenched him from the 

hypnotic grip of his gloomy thoughts.  The 

Communications Officer immediately responded, 

instructing his computer to analyze the triggering 

sensor readings.  Because the alarm could only have 

been triggered by readings the computer associated 

with hostile intent, Kohbrah was anxious for an 

explanation. 

     "Why did that alarm sound?" he demanded. 

     "We have detected something that seems to be a 

broad-band array of active sensor scans," said the 

Communications Officer as he keyed additional 

instructions into the computer at his console.  A 

moment later he added, "The scanning patterns match 

those of a Federation Constitution-class Starship." 

     Kohbrah's eyes narrowed, and in a voice tinged 

with bitterness, he said, "Only one Constitution-class 

Starship in all of space and time could possibly have 

come with us to wherever we are, and it is named 

Enterprise." 

     "Should I notify the Ambassador, Sir?" asked the 

communications officer. 

     Kohbrah quickly held up an open hand to put the 

suggestion to rest.  Dealing with the Enterprise was a 

strictly military matter, and one he could handle 

better without the Ambassador's distorted priorities 

and logic undermining his expertise. 

     "Has the Federation ship detected us?" inquired 

Kohbrah. 

     "No, Sir.  We are cloaked and completely hidden 

from their scans," said the Communications Officer.  

"Their shields are down.  They are showing no 

detectable signs of caution." 

     "Excellent," smiled Kohbrah.  "Helm, maneuver us 

to a position slightly above and behind the Federation 

ship.  From there we will confirm its identity and deal 

with it." 

     For the better part of an hour the Talon carefully 

approached the attack position chosen by Kohbrah.  

Long range scans picked out the vessel's numerical 

designation from its saucer section - NCC 1701.  

Kohbrah, quite pleased, simply nodded his head in 

approval.  When the Talon was finally positioned to 

his liking, Kohbrah instructed, "On my command, 

disengage the cloaking device.  Weapons Officer, when 

the cloaking field is clear, launch our spread of 

torpedoes.  Minimal dispersion." 

     After a moment to make certain everything was 

ready, Kohbrah ordered, "Now!  Bring us out of the 

cloaking field!" 

     The Weapons Officer was highly skilled, and had 

been personally recruited by Kohbrah.  His sense of 

timing could only be described as a refined art.  His 

firing of the torpedoes at exactly the moment of the 

cloaking field's collapse exactly matched Kohbrah's 

vision of what should ideally have happened.  As the 

torpedoes drew closer to their target, Kohbrah could 

feel excitement welling up inside.  The unshielded 

Enterprise appeared to be completely unaware of the 

danger it was in.  When the torpedoes were almost at 

the point of impact Kohbrah could almost see bright 

flashes where they would detonate on the 

unprotected ship. 

     Suddenly, the Enterprise veered to the left, clawing 

itself into a turn tighter than Kohbrah had ever 

believed possible from a vessel of its size.  A bright 

flash appeared along the right side of the saucer 

section.  One of the torpedoes had detonated, but from 

the angle of its trajectory it was impossible to tell how 

much damage, if any, had been caused. 

     "The Enterprise's shields were raised, Sir," 

reported the weapons officer.  "They appear to have 

absorbed the impact of the single hit." 

     Kohbrah allowed himself the luxury of a single 

angry expletive before ordering, "Evasive maneuvers.  

Get us away from here, fast!  Engage the cloaking 

device!" 

     On the viewscreen Kohbrah could see that the 

Enterprise was bringing itself to bear on his ship 

much faster than he had expected.  The distance 

between the Talon and the Enterprise had increased, 

but that fact was bringing little comfort to Kohbrah.  

At the completion of its turn the Enterprise would be 

ideally situated for a shot at the Talon's stern.  When 

the Talon's cloaking field was established, it could 

turn and hide, but until then, distance was its best ally.  

Kohbrah wasn't sure he would have enough. 

     The Enterprise fired its phasers. 

     The Talon's cloaking field was becoming more 

substantial as power was automatically diverted from 

the shields to support it.  The incoming phaser bolts 

struck the dying shields and shook the ship.  

Fortunately, the last vestiges of the shields had 

retained enough energy to absorb the phaser blast's 

distance-depleted power. 

     Kohbrah was attempting to formulate his next 

strategic moves when Ksariss, who had stormed onto 

the bridge, leaped in front of the command chair.  She 

firmly grasped both its arms in her hands and leaned 

into Kohbrah's face, screaming, "What have you done?  

You were not given authorization to engage in 

combat!  That is my command prerogative alone!" 

     Angrily Kohbrah extended his left arm and roughly 

pushed Ksariss to the side and out of his way. 

     Suddenly the bridge was enveloped in a great flash 

of light, and a human figure wielding a menacing 

spear and dressed in battle armor of an ancient, alien 

design stood before them all.  The alien warrior 

simply announced, "Commander Kohbrah, 

Ambassador Ksariss, I have need of your services!" 

     Then Kohbrah, Ksariss, and the warrior vanished 

within another brilliant enveloping flash of light. 

                             ----  CHAPTER  NINE  ---- 

     With Trelane's abduction of Captain Kirk and 

Commander Spock, Lt. Uhura became the senior 

officer on the bridge.  She immediately took charge.  

"Everybody back to your posts," she ordered.  

"Monitor that Romulan ship closely, Mr. Sabat.  If 

there are any signs of hostile activity, do whatever is 

necessary to defend the ship." 

     She next opened a channel to engineering.  "Bridge 

to Lt. Commander Scott.  Please report to the bridge 

immediately." 

     It was several minutes before the ship's Chief 

Engineer could respond, and he did so in a thickly 

accented voice bristling with agitation.  "This is Scott.  

I'm up to my eyebrows in problems down here, 

Lieutenant!  Our warp engines have gone off line 

again.  It’s the same for the weapons systems.  Now 

what in blazes is so important that I have to come to 

the bridge?" 

     "Commander, we had another visit from Trelane," 

Uhura explained.  "Captain Kirk and Commander 

Spock disappeared with him when he left.  They are 

no longer aboard the Enterprise." 

     That piece of information was met with a string of 

strong Scottish profanity.  "Alright, Lieutenant.  I'll 

need to give out some instructions down here.  I'll 

come to the bridge as soon as I can.  What are those 

Romulans up to?" 

     Uhura channeled information from the ship's 

sensor array to her station.  "Apparently very little, 

Sir.  They haven't even moved since Trelane showed 

up.  Maybe that has something to do with the 

inconsistent power readings I'm getting from them." 

     "Well, maybe our friend Trelane saw fit to even the 

odds for a bit," Scott speculated.  "Keep an eye on 

them.  I'll be on my way soon." 

     Several minutes later the turbolift door hissed 

open.  Lt. Commander Scott stepped out and headed 

for the command chair.  "You're just in time, Sir," said 

Uhura.  "We're being hailed by the Romulan ship.  

Their Executive Officer, Subcommander Tarsus, wants 

to speak to our Captain." 

     "Ach!" said Scott in disgust as he spun the 

command chair around.  "Lieutenant, while I find out 

what this, --- Romulan officer wants to jabber about, 

I'll need you to prepare copies of all pertinent log 

entries for the last few hours.  I'll need to get a feeling 

for what's been going on up here." 

     As Scott slowly turned the command chair back 

toward the viewscreen he closed his eyes.  Within a 

few seconds he had assumed a facade of calm and 

control.  He then opened his eyes and said to Uhura, 

"Very well, Lieutenant, put our Romulan friend on 

screen." 

     The image of the Romulan officer which appeared 

on the viewscreen appeared to be quite angry and 

unsettled.  It was leaning far forward in its chair, 

hostile and aggressive.  "I am Subcommander Tarsus, 

acting Commander of the Romulan warship Talon," 

the image asserted.  It studied the diminishing smile of 

Lt. Commander Scott for a moment before blurting 

out, "I do not recognize YOU as Captain of the 

Enterprise.  Quickly, summon him, or you instead shall 

be responsible for what I will do to your ship." 

     "Ah, please, laddie.  Calm yourself down a wee bit," 

admonished Scott.  He had, at first, been shocked by 

Tarsus' crude attempt at establishing superiority, but 

the more he had thought about Tarsus' opening 

remarks, the more he had realized that Tarsus was a 

relatively inexperienced commander doing a less than 

convincing job of rattling his sabre.  "I am Lt. 

Commander Montgomery Scott, and as things happen 

to stand, I am currently the ranking officer on the 

bridge.  So if there is anything worth saying, you'll be 

saying it to me." 

     "I will say this only once more," Tarsus threatened 

with decidedly more emphasis.  "I will speak with 

your Captain.  Immediately!" 

     "Now there we have a problem, Mister Tarsus," 

Scott calmly responded, deciding to play with the 

Romulan officer.  "You see, our Captain has gone back 

to his quarters to water his plants.  He is quite 

meticulous in caring for them.  Most likely he would 

not take well to being distracted by empty demands 

from a low-ranking Romulan officer.  So, in your best 

interest, if you've anything to say to the Captain, I'll be 

happy to pass it along when Captain Kirk can join us 

again." 

     Clearly Subcommander Tarsus was uncertain of 

how to react to Lt. Commander Scott's responses.  

Dumbfounded, his image lingered on the viewscreen 

for several long seconds before dissolving in a fit of 

static.  Then on the viewscreen the Talon floated 

motionless against the star-sprinkled blackness of 

space, while in the near background a blue-green 

planet hung, hiding its features beneath cottony 

swirled blankets of white.  More distantly a red sphere 

floated in space, larger than any star, though not yet 

so prominent as to readily provoke concern. 

     Somewhat amused by the exchange between 

Tarsus and Scott, Uhura asked, "What do you suppose 

that was all about?" 

     "That Romulan wanted something," said Scott, 

thinking aloud and stroking a forefinger across his 

chin.  "Something that only Captain Kirk, or the 

presence of Captain Kirk could give him." 

     "Sir, he did say that he was their acting 

commander.. " reminded Uhura. 

     "Aye, he did," Scott remembered, his eyes 

brightening.  "It may be that he has told us more than 

he's learned from us." 

     "How do you mean, Sir?" asked Uhura. 

     "Well, I'd sort of expect a Klingon to bluster and 

bluff the way Tarsus tried to do, but that sort of 

conduct is not what you'd see from a rational and 

experienced Romulan officer.  If he's the acting 

commander, I'll wager something's happened to his 

superior officer.  Maybe Trelane's evening of the odds 

was a bit more involved than simply disabling systems 

on both our ships." 

     "But, you can't be sure of that, Sir," said Uhura. 

     "Not totally," said Scott, but he added confidently, 

"but I believe that Tarsus DOES have a problem of 

some sort, and there are answers he needs from us 

before he knows what to do about it.  As long as he has 

those doubts and uncertainty, he might just behave 

himself.  Continue close monitoring, and keep me 

advised of any changes in status." 

     "Aye, Sir." 

     Scott opened a channel to Engineering.  "This is Lt. 

Commander Scott on the bridge.  Can you give me a 

report on your progress down there?" 

     "Lieutenant Eaton here, Sir.  Most of our problems 

are caused by several banks of fused control boards 

and relays.  We expect to have everything replaced 

soon, tested, and on line." 

     "Very impressive, Lieutenant.  Keep me advised.  

Scott out." 

     With the Romulans under close surveillance and 

repairs well underway, Scott was free to review the 

log entries he had requested from Lt. Uhura.  As he 

arose and approached her station she held out a 

computer tape cassette which contained his 

information. 

     "Thank you, Lieutenant," acknowledged Scott as he 

took the cassette.  "You have the bridge.  This ship is 

to stay at red alert until I return from the briefing 

room.  I'll review our alert status at that time." 

     Scott remained secluded for an hour in the briefing 

room examining the log tapes.  During this time he 

received a welcome interruption from engineers who 

reported that all damaged systems were again 

available, giving the Enterprise a decided advantage 

over the Talon which still appeared to be struggling 

with its own power problems. 

     After reviewing the bridge log entries recorded 

immediately before Trelane's second appearance 

Scott wished that Spock was still aboard to provide 

more information about Dr. Immanuel Velikovsky.  

But since Spock obviously could not provide this 

information, he decided that he needed to interview 

his next best source, Ensign Kramer, who had first 

mentioned Dr. Velikovsky's name in connection with 

the main viewscreen's display. 

     Before arranging the interview, Scott skimmed 

through Spock's science log entries, finding a list of 

subjects to be researched in the ship's computer 

memory banks in hopes of shedding more light on the 

connection between the viewscreen display and Dr. 

Velikovsky.  Spock had also included a cryptic 

personal note to himself: 

           "Investigate SABAT /  7? /  Earth 1968." 

     Something about the entry "Earth 1968" almost 

awakened a memory, but Scott's overtaxed mind 

could not readily make the connection.  He realized 

that he needed a First Officer to help him make sense 

out of all the puzzling and seemingly disorganized 

pieces he had figuratively lying in a jumble on his 

table.  He pressed a button on the comm panel which 

opened a channel to the bridge. 

     "Yes, Mr. Scott?" responded Uhura. 

     "Lieutenant, would you please locate Mr. Sulu and 

have him report to me in the briefing room?" 

     "Yes, Sir.  Mr. Sulu is in his quarters.  I'll call him 

right away." 

     Several minutes later the door of the briefing room 

opened and admitted Sulu.  Scott looked up from the 

computer monitor on the table.  "Please, come in, Mr. 

Sulu," he invited.  "Sit down.  I guess you've heard 

something of what has happened." 

     "Yes, Sir.  The entire ship is talking about it." 

     "No doubt," Scott agreed.  "Let's review things 

anyway, just so we have all the facts straight.  What 

I've seen in the log tapes leaves me believing that 

Trelane has kidnapped Captain Kirk and Commander 

Spock.  I've gotten a strong suspicion that something 

like that may have also happened to our Romulan 

friends.  It appears that I have inherited command, 

and right now I desperately need a First Officer and 

Science Officer.  Do you think you're up to the job?" 

     Pleasantly surprised by Scott's offer, Sulu 

responded, "When do I start, Sir?" 

     "Right away," answered Scott.  "After you've 

reviewed the highlights of the log tapes, we've got to 

learn all there is to know about a certain Dr. 

Immanuel Velikovsky.  I'll soon be calling Ensign 

Samuel Kramer in to talk to us.  I'm betting that he 

knows more about the man than he's had a chance to 

tell us.  I'll need you to run checks with the computer 

on any helpful information we may get from him.  And 

don't be afraid to chime in with any observations or 

suggestions.  You'll notice that Mr. Spock left a list of 

potentially helpful topics in his science log." 

     Scott gave Sulu time to bring himself up to date 

while he recorded Sulu's temporary reassignment, 

and verified that the Romulan warship was still 

benignly working on its internal problems.  A review 

of related sensor readings with Lt. Uhura convinced 

him that he had the time to talk with Ensign Kramer.  

"Lieutenant, please arrange for someone to 

temporarily relieve the navigator, Ensign Kramer, and 

have him report to me in the briefing room." 

     Several minutes later Ensign Kramer walked into 

the briefing room.  "Come in, Ensign Kramer.  Please, 

sit down.  I'm Lt. Commander Scott, temporarily in 

command, and this is Lt. Sulu, our acting First Officer.  

I've got some important questions to ask you, so get 

comfortable.  I expect we'll be a while." 

     Kramer sat across the table from Scott, leaning 

slightly forward in his chair and resting his arms on 

the table.  Scott called a recorded copy of the 

viewscreen display which had inspired the Velikovsky 

questions onto the computer monitor at the table, and 

then began his questioning.  "Our log tapes show that 

you mentioned the name Dr. Immanuel Velikovsky 

while looking at this viewscreen display on the bridge.  

What I need to know is who this Dr. Velikovsky is, and 

how he connects to what's displayed on this 

viewscreen." 

     "This could turn into a long story, Sir," Kramer 

began, "but I'll try to stick with the basics.  Dr. 

Velikovsky is my family's only famous ancestral 

relative.  We are descended from a close relative of 

Elisha Kramer, who married Dr. Velikovsky in the 

early 1920's.  Personally, I think he's a fascinating 

ancestor.  I collect anything I can find relating to his 

work." 

     "That explains your interest in the man," said Scott.  

"I understand that Dr. Velikovsky's work stirred up a 

fair share of controversy, but before we get into that, 

I'm curious about his credentials.  Tell me what you 

can about him." 

     Kramer looked toward the ceiling and spoke as 

thoughts came to him.  "He was born in Russia, shortly 

before the beginning of the twentieth century.  As far 

as schooling, he studied natural science in Edinburgh, 

Scotland, and then law and ancient history in Russia.  

He also earned a medical diploma after World War 

One.  After that he lived in Berlin, Germany, where he 

met and married Elisha Kramer.  Shortly after that, 

they traveled to Palestine where he practiced 

medicine, and then he returned to Europe where he 

was trained in psychiatry." 

     "Shortly before World War Two, Dr. Velikovsky 

traveled to America, intending to research the dreams 

of Sigmund Freud.  He discovered that one of the 

prominent characters in Freud's dreams was the 

biblical figure, Moses.  While researching the life of 

Moses, Dr. Velikovsky began to suspect that the 

plagues which happened in Egypt were, in fact, a 

product of powerful forces of nature which had been 

stirred up worldwide by some agent he could not at 

first identify.  He looked at traditions and stories from 

other peoples and other cultures which described 

events similar to those recorded in Hebrew accounts 

of their last days in Egypt.  He believed that some 

common factor tied together all these ancient 

accounts, and eventually he felt that he had found it: a 

bright celestial object described as at times rivaling 

the sun in brightness.  Ancient astronomers and seers, 

he said, had been tracking and recording this object in 

the skies for hundreds of years.  It had apparently 

attracted their attention because it, alone, had no set 

path through the heavens, seeming to roam at will all 

over the sky.  Somewhere around the year 1500 B.C. 

as the object appeared from behind the sun, 

stargazers fearfully watched it growing larger in the 

sky than it had ever grown before.  Dr. Velikovsky 

believed that the Hebrew account of the plagues 

which struck Egypt near the end of their time of living 

there describes the effects of Earth's first near-

collision with that particular celestial object." 

     "And you believe that is what is happening on the 

viewscreen?" asked Scott. 

     "No, Sir," Kramer replied.  "According to Dr. 

Velikovsky's theory, what I just described to you was 

not the event on the screen.  Instead, it was the first of 

a long series of near-collisions which eventually 

resulted in something similar to what is depicted on 

the screen." 

     "What do you mean by 'something similar'?" Scott 

asked. 

     "Dr. Velikovsky believed that this renegade celestial 

object which almost collided with the Earth in 1500 

B.C. eventually became the planet Venus, but that was 

to happen over eight hundred years later.  During 

those eight-hundred years, the celestial object moved 

in an eccentric orbit around the sun, approaching 

Earth every fifty years, though never again close 

enough to cause the level of destruction experienced 

on its 1500 B.C. approach.  Sometime during those 

eight-hundred years the solar system changed again 

when the celestial object, on the outward leg of its 

orbit, nearly collided with Mars.  The exchange in 

orbital energy between the two bodies caused the 

object to fall to the orbit presently occupied by Venus, 

and it never again threatened the Earth.  However, 

there was a new threat  in the skies: Mars, which had 

assumed its own eccentric orbit which could threaten 

Earth.  After a number of close approaches, Mars 

made its last, and most notable approach in the year 

687 B.C.  I believe the day was March 23.  At that time 

the two bodies passed so closely to each other that 

there was an energy discharge between them.  Dr. 

Velikovsky believed that this flash of energy was what 

destroyed an Assyrian army, led by Emperor 

Sennacherib, which was besieging the Judean city of 

Jerusalem.  He also believed this last near-collision 

placed Earth and Mars in the orbits they now occupy." 

     After a short period of silence Scott commented, "I 

have to admit that's quite a story.  I'm wondering why 

history doesn't tell us that all these things actually 

happened that way." 

     Kramer thought for a moment.  "Dr. Velikovsky 

believed that though these events were recorded all 

around the world, they were not scientifically 

recorded.  Instead, they were explained in terms 

consistent with regional religions and beliefs which 

are no longer properly understood.  He also theorized 

that some of the experiences were so traumatic for the 

survivors that some of them experienced a collective 

amnesia, a purging of their frightening memories." 

     "Interesting," Scott agreed, "but arguing those 

points won't solve any of our problems.  You still 

haven't described what is depicted on the viewscreen: 

the two planets colliding." 

     "Sorry, Sir," apologized Kramer.  "There is an 

important difference.  In Dr. Velikovsky's narrative, 

Mars misses Earth.  Civilization survives.  In the 

viewscreen scenario, both planets collide.  It's not a 

totally accurate Velikovsky scenario, Sir, but it's so 

close.  It involves bodies similar to Mars and Earth, 

and Mr. Spock's stellar drift and time regression 

simulation placed us in the time period corresponding 

to the last supposed near-collision in 687 B.C.  Sir, we 

studied the advanced races at the Academy.  I've read 

the record of your meeting with Trelane.  Apparently 

he can put an entire planet where he wants it.  In 

addition, we are assuming he has read Velikovsky.  

Tell me why he could not have brought our two ships 

back into a time and a history he has invented by 

altering the orbit of one of the planets involved in the 

Velikovsky scenario.  It would need only a little push 

to the right planet at the right time.. " 

     "Mr. Kramer, your arguments are backing me into a 

very tight corner," admitted Scott.  "What do you think 

it will take to either prove or disprove your theory?" 

     "We should do some detailed scans of the third 

planet," said Kramer, "mainly looking for levels of 

technology and population patterns.  It's highly 

unlikely that another class M planet could exist in a 

nearly perfect copy of the Terran system having the 

same geography, cultural development, and 

population patterns as the original Earth." 

     "Alright, Mr. Kramer, your little scheme has my 

blessing," said Scott.  "You and Mr. Sulu are hereby 

appointed a committee of two to decide if that planet 

really is Earth.  Get right on it." 

     As Kramer and Sulu left the briefing room, Scott 

returned to the computer monitor which now 

displayed Spock's cryptic message.  As he saw things, 

there was one more puzzle waiting to be unraveled. 

                             ----  CHAPTER  TEN  ----                              

     As nearly as he remembered, Captain James Kirk 

had been on the bridge of the Enterprise, directing the 

ship's response to the attack of the Romulan Warbird.  

And then he remembered Trelane appearing, attired 

in some unfamiliar archaic military costume and 

making some disassociated remark about a game.  In 

the next instant he had found himself standing next to 

Spock on what appeared to be solid ground.  It was 

nighttime, dark, and cold.  The sky overhead was 

clear, and he could make out what appeared to be 

familiar constellations.  Apparently, Kirk suspected, he 

was to believe that he was in the northern hemisphere 

of his native planet, Earth. 

     They were standing on a slight rise, and in the 

distance they could see the silhouette of a city 

surrounded by a massive, high wall.  Arrayed before 

each of the barely visible gates in the wall were 

hundreds of flickering lights, most likely small 

campfires, suggesting that travelers who had arrived 

after the gates had been secured for the night were 

waiting until morning to enter the city. 

     Spock had walked several paces away, totally 

immersed in his study of the surroundings.  For the 

moment, the two of them appeared to be alone. 

     Suddenly and silently Trelane was with them, 

covered in long, flowing robes from head to foot.  He 

leaned comfortably with his shoulder against a tree.  

When he cleared his throat Kirk and Spock turned to 

face him. 

     "I wonder if I might have a word with you two 

gentlemen," he said nonchalantly. 

     Kirk's patience was exhausted.  Too many times 

when he had seemed on the verge of acquiring control 

of a situation, Trelane had appeared and had snatched 

that control from his grasp.  He lunged at the cool 

figure of Trelane and grasped the folds of his robes at 

the sides of his neck.  He roughly pulled Trelane fully 

onto his feet, bringing Trelane's astonished face scant 

inches away from his own. Barely controlling his rage 

inside, Kirk suddenly stopped and stared at the wide-

eyed and now widely grinning face of Trelane. He then 

pushed Trelane back to nearly arm's length and with a 

slight backward push, released him. 

     "Wonderful, Captain!" Trelane shouted.  "I knew 

you had it in you!  Such fury!  Such passion!  Such 

emotion!" 

     Trelane's attempts to further provoke were 

interrupted by a woman's desperate cries for help.  

Kirk and Spock spun around, searching for the source 

of the cries.  The ground sloped into a slight 

depression and a thin cluster of trees.  Incriminating 

shadows and noises of a scuffle were coming from 

among them.  Kirk angrily thrust a finger toward 

Trelane's face, declaring, "I will finish this with you 

later!", before turning and sprinting toward the trees.  

Spock followed behind Kirk. 

     "Very well, have it your way," said Trelane, not in 

the least offended.  "There are other game pieces to be 

moved into place." 

     Kirk and Spock dashed into the cluster of trees and 

discovered five large men engaged in trying to forcibly 

remove several bags and satchels from the arms of a 

woman and an adolescent boy.  The two outnumbered 

victims were putting up a valiant resistance.  Kirk 

dashed into the fray, pulling one of the assailants off 

the woman and hurling him forcefully against a 

nearby tree.  Joining Kirk, Spock applied a nerve pinch 

to one of the men harassing the child.  Struggling to 

maintain his hold, Spock was left with his back 

exposed to the child's other assailant who pushed the 

child away and threw himself at Spock, wrapping his 

powerful hands around Spock's neck to choke him.  

The child, on the ground but now free to move, 

grasped a hefty stick upon which his hand had fallen.  

He stood up and raised the meter-long club over his 

head, and then brought it down in a surprisingly 

strong blow onto the back of the man choking Spock.  

The man was badly stunned, both arms flying fully 

extended.  He staggered, turning to face the new 

threat from his rear.  He grunted, bringing his arms 

forward, and tried to grasp the neck of the child.  The 

child swung his stick under the man's arms and into 

his ribs stopping him where he stood.  Spock, 

meanwhile, had totally incapacitated the first thief 

and turned to find the second one doubled over, an 

easy target for another nerve pinch. 

     After having flung the first of the woman's 

assailants against the tree, Kirk grabbed a second and 

dragged him away from the woman, smashing him 

squarely in the middle of his face with a fist. The 

stunned second man staggered back and collapsed 

onto the first thief, who had been attempting to stand 

and rejoin the fight. 

     The third of the woman's assailants, fearing for his 

own safety now that he was outnumbered, had 

decided to leave.  He had only started to run when the 

child threw himself at the man's legs and wrapped his 

arms around them.  The third thief fell roughly to the 

ground, and after a moment's unproductive struggle, 

began to flail at the child's back and shoulders.  Kirk 

pulled the child away, intending to deal with the last 

thief himself.  The thief leaped to his feet and 

produced a dagger, while the child, behind Kirk, 

attempted to push past Kirk and engage the thief.  Kirk 

held onto the child and took several steps back.  Spock 

followed Kirk's example and did not attempt to 

disarm the thief with the dagger.  Seizing the clear 

opportunity to leave, the armed thief turned and ran 

into the night, as did the two men Kirk had previously 

dispatched. 

     Aware that the two thieves stunned by Spock's 

nerve pinches would eventually reawaken, Kirk began 

gathering the scattered possessions of the woman and 

child together.  While the woman and the child 

comforted each other, Kirk pulled Spock aside.  "Those 

two ruffians appear to be about our size," he said, 

nodding in the direction of the remaining unconscious 

thieves. 

     "An excellent point, Captain," Spock agreed as he 

studied them.  "Our Starfleet uniforms are not in 

keeping with prevailing modes of attire." 

     Kirk rolled one of the unconscious bodies onto its 

stomach and removed the outer robes, while Spock 

did the same to the other.  As Kirk threw his new 

costume onto his back and performed finishing 

adjustments, he became uncomfortably aware of 

Spock staring at him.  "Is something wrong, Spock?" 

he asked. 

     "Your outer garment has a hood, Captain, while 

mine is simply a coat," said Spock.  "As I have certain 

obvious physical differences from the local 

inhabitants, would I not better remain inconspicuous 

with my differences shrouded in a hooded garment?" 

     Kirk examined the two garments.  "An excellent 

point," he agreed.  "We'll trade." 

     When they were suitably attired, Kirk and Spock 

returned to the woman and child.  "Perhaps it would 

be safer to move to another place for the rest of the 

night," Kirk suggested to the woman, "just in case 

those thieves return." 

     The woman slowly turned her head to look at Kirk.  

"And what do you intend to do with us when we reach 

your 'other place'?" she asked, crying.  "How do we 

know that you also are not thieves or something 

worse?  If you must, take our food.  Take all our 

possessions.  Just leave us alone." 

     Kirk slowly knelt before the sobbing woman and 

gently placed a finger beneath her chin to lift her face.  

Looking into her eyes, he said, "We are not thieves, 

nor are we anything worse.  We are not going to take 

your possessions.  It is not safe for you to be out here 

alone, so, with your permission, we are offering to 

help you.  We will look out for you, at least until you 

find family or friends who can care for you." 

     The woman looked into Kirk's eyes, and in them 

found someone she could trust.  "Thank you - I don't 

even know your names," she said, trying to smile.  

"These are times when strangers are not easily 

trusted.  I am Miriam, and this is my younger brother, 

Joash." 

     "Pleased to meet you both," said Kirk, returning her 

smile.  "I am Jim, and my companion is named Spock." 

     "Jim?  Spock?  What strange names," observed 

Miriam. 

     "My parents named me James," said Kirk.  "Jim is 

something my friends call me.  As for Spock, he insists 

that 'Spock' is the only part of his full name that I am 

capable of pronouncing.  I've learned to trust his 

judgement on things like that." 

     "I am familiar with the name James," said Miriam.  

"I shall call you James, and I shall be your friend.  And I 

shall also befriend your companion, Spock." 

     "Good," Kirk smiled.  "Now that we've all been 

introduced, I think we should start moving to a 

different place." 

     Miriam agreed and stood up with Kirk.  They all 

reached into the pile of bags together, Spock and Joash 

grasping the shoulder strap for the same bag. 

     " I can carry this," asserted Joash.  "I'm not just a kid 

anymore." 

     "Indeed, you are not," Spock acknowledged.  "Your 

efforts tonight have been much appreciated." 

     With a very pleased grin, Joash lifted the bag onto 

his shoulder, and Kirk smiled at Spock, who was 

trying his best to suppress any sign of emotion.  When 

the remaining bags were distributed they moved out 

of the cluster of trees.  Miriam led the group toward 

the fires outside the nearest of the gates.  As they 

walked, Kirk dropped behind, intending to discuss 

their situation with Spock. 

     As they walked together, Kirk asked, "Do you have 

any idea where we are, Spock?" 

     "As none of the inhabitants has mentioned anything 

specific, I have only theories," Spock admitted. 

     "Anything would help," said Kirk, hoping to coax 

something of relevance out of Spock's thoughts.  "For 

instance, the sky.  The constellations..." 

     "Yes," Spock mused, looking upward.  "Apparently, Earth, northern hemisphere, and judging from the 

stars which are visible, approximately thirty degrees 

north latitude.  The costumes we have encountered 

suggest southwestern Asia.  Possibly the regions of 

Mesopotamia or Arabia.  It is difficult to be certain, but 

the architecture of the city silhouetted against the 

night sky suggests that we are near the Mediterranean 

Sea.  Palestine, perhaps." 

     "Pretty precise theories, when you consider that we 

could be just about anywhere," remarked Kirk.  Spock 

did not acknowledge what Kirk had said.  Instead, he 

continued to think as they drew closer to the fires.  

Kirk tried again to get Spock to open his thoughts.  

"Have you come up with anything else?" 

     "Only another possibility, Captain," Spock 

answered.  "Events unfolding aboard the Enterprise 

before we were brought here were beginning to 

connect us to a point in Dr. Velikovsky's scenario, 

which in his accounting of this period of Earth's 

history happened in 687 B.C.  For several previous 

years, Hezekiah, a regional king, had refused to pay 

his kingdom's required tribute to the Emperor of 

Assyria, who had previously conquered most of the 

lands around Judah, including the northern kingdom 

of Israel.  In this year, the Assyrian emperor, 

Sennacherib, led his armies into Judah and laid siege 

to the major cities, hoping to suppress Hezekiah's 

rebellion.  King Hezekiah, in his capital city of 

Jerusalem, was saved from defeat when the Assyrian 

force surrounding Jerusalem was mysteriously 

stricken dead one evening, in accordance with a 

prophecy of deliverance.  Dr. Velikovsky attributed 

this deliverance to an energy discharge between Earth 

and the orbitally displaced planet Mars, occurring as 

Mars passed its closest to Earth, and striking the 

ground where the Assyrian forces were camped 

outside Jerusalem." 

     "But our information on the Enterprise showed that 

the two planets were going to collide, not merely pass 

closely by each other," Kirk reminded Spock. 

     "True, Captain - a disturbing deviation from the 

Velikovsky scenario," Spock acknowledged calmly.  "I 

do not know if the Velikovsky scenario is an accurate 

account of this period in your planet's history, but it, 

or a variation of it, seems to be the most likely 

explanation for the events Trelane has arranged for 

us." 

     "We'd be in a better position to do something about 

Trelane's arrangements if we could return to the 

ship," declared Kirk. 

     "Agreed," said Spock.  "But for the moment, I believe it would be prudent to find shelter within the 

walls of the city before us.  I am concerned by this 

migration of people toward it.  This could be the time 

of the Assyrian army's invasion, and if memory serves, 

the Assyrians were not known for treating their 

captives kindly." 

     "Alright," Kirk finally said to Spock.  "Tomorrow 

we'll see what safety we can find in the city." 

     Their group had reached the area of the outer 

campfires.  Around each of the fires they could dimly 

make out the shapes of people asleep on the ground, 

along with the flickering outlines of watchmen who 

sat awake to guard their respective group's few 

possessions. 

     Miriam had still been leading them.  She stopped on 

a level site and asked, "Will this be safe enough, 

James?" 

     Kirk looked around.  They were near enough to 

other campfires to call for help, if needed, yet far 

enough away so as not to appear that they were 

intruding into another group's domain. 

     "This is probably as good as things will get until 

morning," Kirk admitted.  "The two of you can try to 

get some sleep.  Spock and I will stand watch." 

     "We will rest after we have built a fire," Miriam 

insisted.  "Joash, collect our belongings together, and 

then help gather whatever will burn.  Tomorrow we 

shall take our new friends, James and Spock, to the 

home of our uncle in Jerusalem.  He will want to thank 

them for taking care of us." 

     Surprised, Kirk said, "Jerusalem?" 

     "Yes," answered Miriam, puzzled by Kirk's reaction.  

"Why are you surprised that this is Jerusalem?" 

     "We have been traveling for a long time," Kirk 

stammered, looking into the sky.  He added with 

slightly more confidence, "I didn't think we had come 

this far so quickly." 

     "I see," said Miriam, smiling.  "Come, James.  Help 

me find wood for the fire.  You can tell me about your 

travels." 

     Kirk pointed to a nearby solitary tree.  "That might 

be the best place to start looking," he suggested. 

     They slowly walked toward the tree, silently for a 

few minutes, until Miriam asked without looking at 

Kirk, "Where did you and your companion come from, 

James?" 

     "Let's start with me," Kirk answered lightly.  "I grew up in a place very much like this.  Warm, gentle 

breezes in the summer, and crisp, chilling evenings 

like this one that foretold the coming of winter, and 

later were the season's farewell before spring.  And 

then, one day, I left home in search of adventure, filled 

with a need to discover new things.  Eventually I 

ended up here." 

     Kirk saw that Miriam was smiling.  He had said a 

lot, essentially telling her the truth, and yet, he had 

told her nothing.  Evidently it had amused her. 

     When they reached the tree they discovered that 

others had been there before them.  All the branches 

within arm's reach had already been broken off.  Kirk 

pulled himself into a fork in the trunk and broke off 

some of the higher branches, dropping them carefully 

to the ground. 

     "And what of Spock?  Where did he come from?" 

Miriam asked as she retrieved the branches. 

     Kirk dropped lightly to the ground.  "A place quite 

different from where I grew up," he said.  "Hot, and 

very dry.  The people there try very hard not to 

display their feelings.  Anyway, that's what he tells me.  

I met Spock after setting out on my own." 

     "Have you ever gone home?" 

     "When I could," Kirk said as he took the bundle of 

sticks Miriam had gathered.  "But now, tell me a little 

about you.  Where do you live?" 

     "A little town, two day's travel along the south road 

from Jerusalem." 

     "I should think you're a little young to travel all that 

way alone," said Kirk.  "Where are your parents?" 

"They are both dead," Miriam said sadly.  

"Father was killed; well, he was a soldier.  His death 

was a terrible blow to Mother, and she became very 

ill.. " 

     "I'm sorry," offered Kirk.  "You must miss them very 

much." 

     "Yes, I did.  Joash was just a toddler, but I knew how 

to take care of him.  I just couldn't let us be a burden 

on anybody, and I couldn't bear our being separated 

and sent to live with different relatives, so I insisted 

that we live in our home," Miriam said.  Then she 

added with an endearing hint of pride, "You might say 

that I raised him." 

     "You did a wonderful job," complimented Kirk. 

     "I had a little help, at first.  My uncle paid a 

neighbor to keep an eye on us, and he sent us money.  

With our growing up like that, Joash and I became 

very close.  I like the way he turned out.  He's nice for 

a little brother, the way he helps me with everything." 

     "Tell me, why did you leave home and come to 

Jerusalem?" asked Kirk. 

     "I got a letter from my uncle.  He knows important 

people in the city.  He practically ordered me to come 

and visit him for a while.  Joash and I were planning to 

do it soon, but we heard rumors about Assyrians who 

were angry with our King and coming to fight." 

     "Will you be safe with your uncle in the city?" Kirk 

asked. 

     Miriam looked into the sky.  "I don't think it matters 

that much." 

     "Why?" asked Kirk. 

     "Do you see the red star?" 

     "Yes.  What about it?" 

     "Some people say that its appearance means the 

end of all things," Miriam said in awe.  "Others believe 

it is an omen, and that we are to be punished for 

something we have done wrong.  Everyone is afraid of 

it." 

     "What if it is just a star?" Kirk proposed. 

     "No," Miriam disagreed quietly, "this one is 

different.  It has… a special meaning." 

     "Well, whatever it is, do we have to worry about it 

tonight?" Kirk asked, trying to brighten the somber 

mood. 

     "No, probably not tonight," Miriam smiled weakly.  

"Let's hurry back and get our fire started." 

     Joash took the wood which Kirk and Miriam had 

brought and worked with Spock on the difficult task of 

coaxing damp tinder and green wood to support a fire.  

After a while, with the careful feeding of much of the 

drier available grass around them, a crackling, 

whistling, and smoky fire finally began to consume the 

wood. 

     "It took a while, but it's turning into a splendid fire," 

observed Miriam happily.  "Let's gather around and 

warm ourselves, and then we can try to salvage what 

sleep the night will let us have." 

     Later, Miriam and Joash lay next to the fire and 

soon fell asleep.  Spock stared into the flames for 

several minutes before turning to Kirk.  "You had 

quite a long conversation with the young lady," he 

said. 

     "Yes," agreed Kirk.  "A very pleasant and 

informative conversation." 

     "Informative?" 

     "Yes.  I've practically verified your theory that the 

Assyrians are on their way here." 

     "Ah," acknowledged Spock, thinking about that for 

several seconds.  "Somehow I do not feel more secure 

in knowing that." 

     "I have also learned," added Kirk, "that, for one 

reason or another, many people are afraid of that red 

star in the sky." 

     In the constantly changing light of the fire, Spock 

appeared to look sad as he sought out the prominent 

red point of light in the night sky and then looked at 

the walled city.  Guards patrolling high atop the wall 

still carried torches - a practice which would, no 

doubt, be curtailed when the expected Assyrian army 

occupied the fields around the city.  "I should very 

much like to have a tricorder," Spock said wistfully. 

     "I know how you feel," Kirk sympathized.  "Why 

don't you get some sleep while I, as your superior 

officer, stand the first watch." 

     "I must remind you, Captain, that I do not require 

sleep as often as humans.  Therefore, I respectfully 

suggest that you take advantage of this opportunity to 

rest, while I remain awake." 

     Kirk smiled.  "Because it's the logical thing to do?" 

he asked. 

     "Precisely," answered Spock. 

                                            *    *    * 

     Ksariss and Kohbrah stood paralyzed.  A great, 

bustling encampment of ancient warriors had 

appeared around them. Or had they, instead, appeared 

in the warrior's encampment?  At the moment it was 

of little consequence.  However they had arrived in 

the encampment, they were in grave danger.  The 

warriors in the camp were not Romulan.  Their skin 

tones and facial features were all wrong, and their 

ears were rounded.  Humans, maybe, they both 

theorized.  Even if they had both appeared in the camp 

with a box full of disruptors and an extra pair of 

hands, Kohbrah could have guaranteed them no better 

chance of survival if they were noticed. 

     Strangely, though, they had not been noticed.  In 

fact, several of the warriors had already brushed by 

them, paying them practically no attention at all.  

Fearful that their fortuitous run of good luck could 

abruptly end, Kohbrah took a firm hold of Ksariss' arm 

and guided her into the shadow of a nearby tree 

where they would not be so brightly illuminated by 

the torchlight which marked the heavily traveled 

avenue through the camp. 

     Ksariss, very much on edge, jerked her arm free of 

Kohbrah's grip.  From the affronted look on her face 

Kohbrah knew that Ksariss was preparing another 

stinging tirade of insults with which to censure him.  

He placed a finger on his lips, his expression imploring 

her to be silent.  He softly whispered, "There are more 

important concerns at this moment than berating 

each other!" 

     The logic of Kohbrah's statement seemed to cool 

Ksariss' inflamed indignation.  After a moment, feeling 

more rational, she looked at what she was wearing.  

Her Romulan uniform had been replaced with 

costume, armor, and armament exactly like that worn 

by the warrior who had appeared on the Talon's 

bridge.  Her apparel, and that of Kohbrah, also 

matched that of the warriors who purposefully 

scurried throughout the camp.  She suddenly felt the 

weight of the sword and dagger suspended from the 

belt around her waist.  As she examined the belt, she 

discovered a small leather pouch also attached to it by 

leather thongs.  She unfastened the pouch and opened 

it, discovering inside several metal coins.  She 

extracted them from the pouch and held them in her 

hand.  The coins were all of the same size and design, 

and bore the same human likeness on one side.  She 

examined each of the coins carefully in the low light, 

turning them over slowly in her hand.  Gradually a 

very smug look settled onto Ksariss' face, as though 

she had just solved a very ambiguous riddle. 

     "Do you know what they are?  Do they tell you 

anything?" asked Kohbrah excitedly. 

     "You have obviously spent little time studying those 

history tapes I found in your former quarters, 

Commander," said Ksariss, putting on a superior air.  

"I don't know how or why, but we are on Earth, in an 

Assyrian army camp.  I can't be sure which campaign 

this force is engaged in, but the costumes, and the 

artwork on these coins place us at a point in time 

during the height of their empire.  I am unsure 

whether the current emperor is Sargon, or his son, 

Sennacherib. ." 

     "You are forgetting that it does not matter who the 

current emperor is," charged Kohbrah.  "He rules an 

empire on a doomed planet, a planet which will be 

destroyed in a short time.  Along with us, unless we 

discover some way to leave." 

     "You have a point, Commander," admitted Ksariss, 

who was secretly pleased with her continuing ability 

to annoy Kohbrah.  "We should be working on a way 

to relay our location to our ship.  But first, we must 

escape from this encampment.  The history tapes 

revealed that these Assyrians were exceptionally cruel 

to prisoners taken during time of war." 

     "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to do that," said a 

good-natured voice near them. 

     The smiling Assyrian warrior who stood near them 

in the shadows seemed to be the same one who had 

appeared before them on the bridge of the Talon.  He 

stood with his left hand on his hip, his elbow jauntily 

thrust to the rear.  His right arm, extended full-length, 

clutched a tall spear.  Both Romulans made instinctive 

grabs for their hand disruptors, which they expected 

to find secured at their sides.  Unfortunately these 

weapons had disappeared, along with their Romulan 

uniforms. 

     "Still not quite proficient in the arts of ancient 

combat, I see," said the amused and smirking warrior.  

"Now really, don't you think these would have been 

more appropriate?" 

     As he spoke, he gracefully swept his left hand 

before himself, palm upward.  Kohbrah and Ksariss 

felt the swords which had been hanging from their 

belts instantly appear in their hands.  Ksariss raised 

the point of her weapon and leveled it at the warrior. 

     "O-o-oh!  You catch on quickly.  Ver-ry good!" the 

warrior jeered, dropping his spear in mock surprise.  

"But I must, in all fairness, serve this warning: if you 

persist in maintaining this aggressive posture toward 

me, you will learn that I am something of an 

accomplished swordsman myself!  In fact, if memory 

serves, I haven't lost a duel in several centuries." 

     As Ksariss lowered her sword, Kohbrah hissed, 

"Just who are you?" 

     "Why, I am Trelane, my good Romulan 

Commander!" beamed the warrior as he began to 

strut around them.  "Retired General Trelane, of late, 

the Squire of Gothos.  Passionate student and 

practitioner of 'affaires militaires', and renowned 

throughout the galaxy as THE eminent authority on 

any aspect of the military arts." 

     "And what does this list of self-imparted plaudits 

have to do with us?" demanded Kohbrah. 

     "Nothing less than the fact that it was I who 

brought you all here!" exclaimed Trelane, fairly 

radiating enthusiasm.  "Their Enterprise, and your 

Talon.  To state everything simply, I have chosen you 

to assist me in my greatest quest!" 

     The two Romulans looked at each other blankly, as 

nothing Trelane had said made the slightest bit of 

sense. 

     "You still don't seem to understand," said Trelane, 

puzzled and disappointed.  "How can I explain this?  

Ah, I have it!  How would you both feel if I was to 

simply give you James Kirk, to do with as you please?" 

     "Excuse me," interrupted Ksariss, "but, just how 

does our simply receiving James Kirk fit in with any 

quest, or with our apparent entrapment here on this 

doomed planet?" 

     "James Kirk needs to learn that only fools oppose 

my wishes," Trelane explained with an air of 

superiority and mystery.  "I owe Kirk one.  I owe him a 

BIG one!  To repay him for past undeserved and 

intolerable humiliations, I have arranged, first, the 

annihilation of civilization on his home planet, and 

then, the total destruction OF his home planet.  Think 

of it; no Earth to attract those curious Vulcans.  

Humans and Vulcans never meet, so the United 

Federation of Planets is never formed.  Imagine, a 

galaxy littered with unaligned, solitary worlds, each 

one alone against the might of the Romulan Empire as 

it expands into these rich sectors of the galaxy.  You've 

asked about James Kirk?  I simply place him in your 

custody, and then, from a tiny window in his Romulan 

prison cell, he can witness the destruction of 

everything he holds dear.  With humanity out of the 

picture, time will have been changed so that Kirk's 

past will have never existed.  If he is allowed to live, he 

will see his Romulan enemies forge the greatest 

empire of its time.  So you see, my Romulan friends, in 

my plan there is something for you, and something for 

me." 

     "What will you get out of this plan," asked Ksariss. 

     "Simply that without a United Federation of 

Planets, in which James Kirk attains the rank of 

Starship Captain, the problematic encounters I have 

previously had with Captain Kirk will never have 

occurred.  In the new order, my once spotless record 

will be vindicated, whereupon I can return to Gothos 

and pursue the delights of my retirement with 

complete peace of mind." 

     Kohbrah was becoming more than a little 

concerned.  By the look in Ksariss' eyes, he could see 

that she was being seduced by the enticing lure of 

Squire Trelane's scheme.  She was all but salivating 

over the chance to have the upper hand over James 

Kirk, who had attempted to deliver her to a 

Federation prison, and who had tasked her 

relentlessly since her rescue from the Enterprise.  Her 

personal vendetta against Kirk was not what gave 

Kohbrah the greatest cause for concern, however, but 

rather that she was willing to risk a major change in 

the events of the past to have her revenge.  She was, 

no doubt, hoping to return to Romulus with Kirk in 

tow to be honored for her part in defeating the 

Federation.  But, would a different Romulan Empire 

remember or even acknowledge Ksariss?  It certainly 

would not remember a nonexistent race of humans.  

Obviously, this business of altering established time 

lines could be tricky and unpredictable, and it was a 

business in which Kohbrah was very reluctant to 

become involved.  At the moment, he and Ksariss were 

aliens in a hostile place and time.  Their best chance of 

surviving lay in escaping together as quickly as 

possible with the least possible contact with anyone 

else.  This meant somehow breaking the spell Trelane 

was weaving around Ksariss before she became 

convinced to do something perilous and unwise. 

     ". .and if we should help you, when would you 

deliver James Kirk to us?" Ksariss was asking. 

     "I'm glad you asked that," responded a delighted 

Trelane.  "First, we need to introduce a few small 

changes to the Assyrian battle plan, and then we can 

go to collect Captain Kirk." 

     "Ambassador, please!" implored Kohbrah. 

     Ksariss spun around and eyed Kohbrah firmly.  "Let 

me remind you what this is all about, Commander.  

Revenge!  A balancing of the scales between myself 

and James Kirk!  It is a shame that you are as ignorant 

of Klingon culture as you are about quality Klingon 

furniture.  Our barbaric Klingon allies have a saying 

about revenge: that it is a dish best served cold.  The 

galaxy has never seen a person as cold as I shall be to 

Captain James Kirk.  So, Commander, I shall hear this 

Trelane out, and if I deem his proposals workable, you 

will assist me in their implementation.  Is that 

understood?" 

     Through clenched teeth, Kohbrah responded, 

"Understood, Ambassador." 

                          ----  CHAPTER  ELEVEN  ---- 

     There it floated, alone and taunting in the 

middle of an otherwise blank computer screen. 

          Investigate SABAT /  7 ? /   Earth 1968   

     Lt. Commander Scott, still working with the 

computer terminal in the briefing room, was 

profoundly puzzled by Spock's vague log entry. 

     What could Spock possibly have hoped to learn 

from investigating one of the recent additions to the 

ship's crew?  Did the entry refer to the crewman's 

name, or to something that sounded like it? 

     Whatever could the number seven mean?  Seven 

what? 

     Earth 1968.  Probably a location and a date.  Could 

it be associated with a place, an event; and if so, where 

to start looking for information about it?  Earth 1968.  

Scott turned the phrase over in his mind several 

times.  Some clouded memory or association still 

feebly cried out for recognition, but he could not draw 

it out.  He needed more to go on.  There were many 

questions, and consequently many possibilities.  It 

was time to start eliminating some of them. 

     "Computer," Scott said, "search all memory banks 

for the name Sabat, S-A-B-A-T, and report associations 

with any significant event." 

     "Working," reported the emotionless monotone 

voice of the computer as it began churning through its 

enormous data store.  Scott drummed the table's 

surface with his fingers as the computer completed its 

task and responded, "Report ready." 

     "Report findings," Scott directed. 

     "There is no record of any significant event 

associated with the name Sabat," the computer told 

him. 

     Scott contemplated that for a short time before 

attempting another investigative angle.  "Alright 

computer, let's try this: could the word 'Sabat' have 

associations other than with an event or a proper 

name?" 

     "Working," said the machine as it initiated another 

long search.  Finally it announced, "Report ready." 

     "I'm still listening," Scott informed the computer. 

     "There are two-thousand-four-hundred-and-fifty-

one documented instances of phonetics matching or 

approximating those of the word 'Sabat'.  Do you 

require a complete listing of these instances along 

with corresponding languages and indigenous 

planets?" 

     "No, computer, I do not require a complete listing.  

I'd like to narrow things down a bit.  Let's start with 

the instances from the planet Earth.  Report." 

     "Working.  First instance: SABBAT - a rite or 

assembly associated with the practice of witchcraft.  

Second instance: SABBATH - a word having roots in 

Latin, Greek, and Hebrew terms referring to a time of 

rest, originally the seventh day of the week.  Third 

instance: SHABBAT - the Hebrew weekday number 

seven.. " 

     "Computer, stop," commanded Scott.  The computer 

had made repeated references to the number seven.  If 

this was the connection between Sabat and seven, all 

it proved was that the man's name might have been 

derived from ancient terms for a number.  There had 

to be more to Spock's puzzle.  He would not have 

made such an entry in his official log if there was not. 

     Scott moved on to the last segment of Spock's log 

entry.  "Computer, search the history banks.  Report 

all significant events from the planet Earth in the year 

1968." 

     "Working.  North Vietnamese forces launch Tet 

Offensive against South Vietnamese and American 

forces.  Prominent American figures, Dr. Martin 

Luther King and Senator Robert Kennedy are 

assassinated.  Union of Soviet Socialist Republics 

dispatches tanks and aircraft to Czechoslovakia to 

suppress attempts at liberal reforms.  America's first 

attempt to launch an Orbital Nuclear Weapons 

Platform results in launch-aborted detonation of the 

device when it fails to achieve orbit.  High level talks 

are initiated between major military powers on 

limiting orbital weapons systems..." 

     "Computer, stop!" exclaimed Scott.  Of course!  The 

Orbital Nuclear Weapons Platforms!  Memories 

flooded back to him. 

     Spock's theoretical slingshot-around-the-sun 

technique for time travel.  The mission, back to Earth's 

1968 to gather historical data.  A powerful alien 

transporter beam, accidentally intercepted.  A grim 

humanoid holding a sleek, nervous black cat, 

materializing on the transporter pad, claiming to be 

from Earth and yet sponsored by a secretive, 

benevolent alien race trying to stop Earth's 

embarkation on a path to self-destruction by 

launching those orbital weapons systems.  Kirk trying 

to block the humanoid's attempts to disable the 

orbital weapons system’s launch rocket until he 

became convinced that allowing the humanoid to 

destroy the weapon was the proper path for history to 

follow.  It had been the weapon's flawed launch which 

had inspired world leaders to negotiate the milestone 

agreement banning such weapons.  The humanoid had 

used the name Gary Seven. 

Investigate SABAT /  7 ? /  Earth 1968 

     Obviously Spock had begun to suspect this 

connection. 

     "Computer," said Scott, "access Enterprise mission 

file ASSIGNMENT: EARTH.  Scan all related log tapes 

for a picture of someone named Gary Seven.  When 

you find it, I'd like to have a look." 

     "Working." 

     A moment later the hard, determined, and even 

slightly annoyed visage of Gary Seven was displayed 

on Scott's monitor, exactly as he had appeared on the 

transporter pad at their first encounter. 

     "Computer, can we close in on the face of the 

human, please? 

     As a close-up image of Gary Seven filled the monitor 

screen, Scott imparted additional commands to the 

computer.  "Computer, redraw this display to half-

screen.  Then, access the ship's personnel records and 

find me a picture of Ensign Gari Sabat.  Display it to 

half-screen." 

     In a moment the bearded countenance of Ensign 

Sabat was displayed next to that of Gary Seven.  Scott 

studied the two faces and nodded his head in 

satisfaction.  "Now we're getting somewhere," he said.  

"Computer, remove the facial hair from the picture of 

Ensign Sabat." 

     The computer reconstructed the image of Sabat 

without his beard and mustache, and revealed a 

striking resemblance between the two faces.  Scott 

smiled broadly and directed a last command at the 

computer. 

     "Computer, compute the odds of both pictures 

being of the same individual." 

     There was a slight pause as the computation was 

made.  "The assumption that both pictures depict the 

same individual computes to a ninety-nine-point-

nine-eight percent probability of being true." 

     "Well, now, isn't that interesting?" said Scott, 

pleased and leaning back in his chair with his arms 

folded.  "Computer, save these images and all related 

data.  I will most definitely want to review them 

again." 

     Scott left the briefing room and headed for the 

turbolift to the bridge.  At the end of the short ride the 

turbolift's doors hissed open, and Scott walked onto 

the bridge.  Lt. Uhura stood and surrendered the 

command chair to him.  Scott thanked her and sat 

down.  "What's our status, Lieutenant?" he asked. 

     "The Romulans are very quiet, just sitting out there, 

Sir," Uhura reported.  "They have not attempted to 

communicate with anybody.  We still haven't detected 

any warp system's power generation from them.  Sir, 

Mr. Kramer has a report for you, if you would like to 

hear it." 

     "Thank you, Lieutenant," said Scott as he arose and 

approached the science station.  "What do you have 

for me, Mr. Kramer?" 

     "Sir, we've just completed a thorough population 

density survey of the planet," said Kramer excitedly.  

"Based on the expected population patterns for this 

time in Earth's history, I'd say we have a nearly 

perfect match.  We've also made some geographical 

and geological scans.  Their results also support the 

hypothesis that this is Earth." 

     "My thanks to you and Mr. Sulu for your work, Mr. 

Kramer," said Scott.  "I was kind of expecting that 

would be your conclusion.  For the time being we'll 

work with the assumption that this planet is Earth.  Lt. 

Uhura, have there been any signs that Captain Kirk 

and Mr. Spock could be down there?" 

     "None yet, Sir," Uhura responded.  "We're still 

monitoring." 

     "Carry on, Lieutenant, and be very thorough.  That 

planet is the most logical place they'll be." 

     Scott returned to the command chair and silently 

reviewed his options.  There was little more he could 

do to search for Kirk and Spock while saddled with 

monitoring an unfriendly Romulan warship.  No doubt 

some of the crew wondered why he hadn't sent 

landing parties to the planet's surface.  If anyone had 

asked, his answer would have been that it was simply 

too risky.  What if the Romulans somehow kept them 

from recovering the landing parties?  They would 

probably die when the planets collided.  But if the 

planet believed to be Earth somehow avoided the 

impending collision, what were the chances that 

stranded crewmen, or their offspring, or descendants 

many generations removed would alter key events in 

the planet's past?  It had not been an easy decision, 

but without having some idea of where to look, 

putting crewmen on the planet would be one of the 

last orders he would issue.  Having decided that, his 

thoughts passed to the problem of Ensign Sabat. 

     "Mr. Sulu," Scott said to the acting first officer who 

was seated at the science station, "when is this watch 

scheduled for relief?" 

     "In twenty minutes, Sir." 

     "Thank you, Mr. Sulu," Scott acknowledged as he 

turned the command chair toward the helm console.  

"Mr. Sabat, when you're relieved, I'd like a quick word 

with you in the briefing room.  Mr. Sulu, this will 

concern you, as well.  Please join us." 

     After waiting for acknowledgement of his orders, 

Scott left the bridge, heading for the recreation room 

and a quick bite to eat.  He asked for a light meal from 

the food synthesizer and took it to an unoccupied 

table.  As he picked indifferently at his food a shadow 

fell across the table.  It appeared to Scott that the 

shadow was that of a human form, so he turned to 

investigate.  Dr. McCoy's smiling face greeted him, 

asking, "Mind if I join you, Scotty?" 

     "Suit yourself, Doctor," responded Scott gloomily, 

"but be warned, I'm not in a mood to be good 

company." 

     "Worried about Jim and Spock?" McCoy asked as he 

slid into a chair. 

     "Aye, that I am," Scott admitted. 

     "Me, too," said McCoy, "but, we have to remember, 

they're a very resourceful pair." 

     "Aye, they are," Scott forced a small smile.  "In fact, 

that's something I'm forced to count on." 

     "I'll bet you'll be happy to know that my patient, 

Captain Gayul, is doing much better," said McCoy. 

     Scott put down his fork and stared at McCoy.  

"Doctor, I get the impression that you're trying to 

force me to engage in conversation." 

     "Part of my job," said McCoy as he finished the last 

morsels of food on his plate, "is to check up on 

whoever's in charge of the ship once in a while." 

     "I see," said Scott, "and if I indulge you in your need 

for conversation, I'll get some nice comments in your 

report on me." 

     "It wouldn't hurt," grinned McCoy as he pushed his 

plate back. 

     "Alright, then, how much better is your patient 

doing, Doctor?" 

     "I'm glad you asked, Scotty.  He's out of danger, 

alert, sitting up, and he's asked for access to our 

computer's literary tapes to help pass the time." 

     Scott became very serious as he said, "You'll want 

to keep a close watch on him if you let him into the 

computers, Doctor.  Ever since that escapee from the 

Eugenics Wars, Kahn, almost hijacked this ship, I've 

pressed Starfleet for stiffer security safeguards on our 

sensitive information." 

     "But they have installed safeguards, Scotty." 

     "Aye, superficial safeguards.  Compromises, really, 

between the need for security and the broad-based 

need for everybody on a starship to know something 

about how it runs." 

     "I can see your point," McCoy conceded.  "I've been 

so pleased with the progress he's finally made, I guess 

I forgot that we know very little about him.  I'll have 

my staff keep an eye on him." 

     "I'd feel better if you would, Doctor," said Scott.  

"Now you can go and write that complimentary report 

you promised me, because I have an important 

appointment in the briefing room I must keep." 

     Scott arrived in the briefing room minutes before 

Sulu appeared in the doorway.  "Ah, Mr. Sulu, come in, 

quickly," Scott invited.  "Take a few minutes to see 

what has come to light." 

     Sulu responded to Scott's discoveries with a low 

whistle.  "What do we do about this, Sir?" he asked. 

     "I aim to find out why he's here," said Scott firmly.  

"Unless I miss my guess, he's working on the same 

problem as we are.  If he is who I think he is, I'm going 

to suggest that we pool our information and 

resources." 

     As Scott finished speaking, Ensign Sabat stuck his 

head into the briefing room.  "You wanted to see me, 

Sir?" he asked. 

     "Aye, I did," Scott affirmed.  "Come in, Ensign, and 

have a seat.  There are a few things I'd like to show 

you." 

     As Sabat occupied a seat across the table from Scott, 

Spock's log entry appeared on the table's computer 

screen: "Investigate SABAT /  7 ? /  Earth 1968." 

     "I discovered this in Commander Spock's science 

log, Ensign," said Scott, "and I was hoping you could 

help me make some sense out of it." 

     As Sabat studied the screen his face remained 

impassive.  "I'm sorry, Sir.  I have no idea what that 

could mean," he innocently stated. 

     "I can understand that," said Scott.  "It was a real 

puzzler for me, too, until I started digging around a 

little.  Let me show you where my investigation led 

me.  Computer, display transcript of mission file 

ASSIGNMENT: EARTH." 

     Sabat dutifully read the computer transcript of the 

file Scott had previously explored.  At times the 

faintest trace of a smile almost formed on his face, but 

it was quickly replaced with his convincing look of 

innocence. 

     "Very interesting, Sir," said Sabat, elbows now on 

the table, and hands folded under his chin.  "But I still 

don't understand what all this has to do with me." 

     "Very well," Scott patiently said.  "Computer, replay 

the sequence of pictures from the Sabat/Seven file." 

     Sabat sat through the full sequence of pictures 

three times, and then smiling, finally said, "That is an 

amazing resemblance, Sir.  Truly impressive.  But 

what purpose is served by showing me these things?" 

     "What purpose?" asked Scott, amazed that Sabat 

still clung to his feigned innocence.  "It's proof enough 

to me that you are a gentleman we previously 

encountered under the name of Gary Seven.  Do you 

see that cat?" he indicated by pointing at a full picture 

of Gary Seven on the transporter pad.  "If I have to, I 

can access the bridge log tape which shows a cat 

holding on to your shirt during the last Romulan 

attack on us.  The two creatures look the same to me, 

and I'd bet good money the computers could verify a 

match between them." 

     "You're grasping at straws, Commander," said 

Sabat.  "Are there any more circumstantial proofs you 

want to air?" 

     "Look, Mister," said Scott sternly, "I've inherited a 

situation that only seems to get worse every time I so 

much as think about it.  The ship's Captain and First 

Officer are missing, and I've got a hostile Romulan 

warship orbiting my home planet.  They may have 

personnel on the planet, poking into things and 

potentially altering its history.  If it even has a history 

any more - what with it going to be shattered by a 

collision with a planet which shouldn't be heading for 

it in the first place.  I'm not very far away from being 

the Captain of a ship and a crew without a home and a 

past.  So you can see that I haven't a great deal of time 

to sit here and play games!" 

     "Well then, in the interest of saving time, I'll admit 

that you've uncovered my identity," said Sabat flatly. 

     Scott was completely at a loss for a response, and 

Sulu glanced uncertainly between the two men. 

     "I am he whom you remember as Gary Seven," 

Sabat confessed.  He pulled back the sleeve of his 

uniform shirt and pressed one of several small 

illuminated buttons on a bracelet.  "Actually, I was 

hoping to be discovered." 

     "I - don't understand," Scott said in amazement. 

     "As a rule, my sponsors try to keep their benevolent 

endeavors under wraps," Sabat explained.  "However, 

after considering the seriousness of this situation and 

the fact that I would be working with your crew, I felt 

that we would be more effective cooperating openly.  

My sponsors granted me the freedom to act along 

those lines, but only if I could not maintain the 

identity of Ensign Sabat.  As you can see, I chose not to 

hide my presence too deeply.  The facts are that both 

of us have resources that may be needed." 

     "You're offering to cooperate with us?" asked Scott. 

     "I am," assured Sabat, "but there are a few ground 

rules.  First, as much as possible, I'll need to maintain 

my identity as a member of your crew.  There is no 

sense showing my cards to Trelane before the proper 

time.   And second, with respect to our situation, there 

has to be complete and open access to information 

between us." 

     "I have no objection to agreeing to that," said Scott. 

     The door to the briefing room opened 

unexpectedly.  At first it appeared that no one was 

waiting to enter, until Scott and Sulu looked down and 

saw a black cat walking regally into the room.  It 

leaped onto Sabat's lap and settled on its haunches, 

looking Scott squarely in the eye.  Scott was distracted 

by its collar of bright white stones: he remembered a 

passing mention of it from the ASSIGNMENT: EARTH 

mission file transcript. 

     As Sabat stroked the cat under its ear he said, 

"Gentlemen, it's time I presented my associate, Isis." 

     Scott looked from Sabat to the cat, Isis, several 

times, stammered, stumbled over a few words, and 

then recovered enough to say to the cat, "Pleased to 

make your acquaintance, I'm sure." 

     He wondered if he should offer to shake the cat's 

paw.  Isis, he remembered, could change her shape, 

having once appeared for a short time as a stunningly 

beautiful woman.   He was certain he could have 

handled the introduction better if she had chosen to 

appear to him in that guise. 

     "You should remember, Commander Scott, that Isis 

and I may find it necessary to work together," 

explained Sabat. 

     "As you wish," said Scott, after taking a moment to 

get used to the idea.  "Tell me something before I lose 

the thought: are you responsible for setting off Mr. 

Spock's mysterious intruder alert?" 

     "I admit doing that," Sabat confessed, "and 

modifying your computer records to cover my arrival.  

Don't worry.  I'll put everything back the way it was 

when I leave." 

     "Well, we've cleared up one of the ship's problems," 

Scott chuckled.  "It looks as if our luck has taken a turn 

for the better." 

     "I hate to put a damper on your celebration, Mr. 

Scott," said Sabat seriously, "but perhaps we should be 

moving along.  I'm interested in what your crew has 

learned about what has happened." 

     "I'm sorry, Mr. Sabat," apologized Scott.  "One moment, please, while I organize my thinking." 

     An instant later Scott said, "I think I have it all 

straight now.  We believe we've been somehow 

brought about three thousand years into the past - 

and this we attribute to an old adversary of ours, a 

juvenile delinquent named Trelane - and we are at the 

moment orbiting the planet Earth which will soon be 

struck by the system's fourth planet, Mars, which, 

thanks to Trelane's intervention, has abandoned the 

orbit it should have forty-nine million miles from 

here.  Captain Kirk and Commander Spock have been 

kidnapped by Trelane, and are somewhere with him, 

probably being used as pawns in one of his playacting 

schemes.  As to how those infernal Romulans fit into 

things, I haven't a clue." 

     "You seem to have uncovered some of the basic 

facts, and you've filled the gaps pretty accurately with 

your suppositions," said Sabat.  "Trelane has effected 

some changes to your star system's past which so far 

haven't had a significant impact on the time line, but 

he has created the potential for a significant time 

disturbance which has my sponsors very concerned.  

That's why I was sent here: to intervene and 

discourage the occurrence of the disturbance." 

     "Why is Earth so important to your sponsors?" 

asked Scott. 

     "Because its unified government will be one of the 

founding members of the United Federation of 

Planets," explained Sabat.  "If this organization is not 

established, a different social order will someday 

dominate this section of the galaxy, and it will have a 

profoundly negative impact far into the future.  My 

sponsors have made it very clear that Earth must be 

preserved." 

     "Then, how is this situation to be turned around?" 

asked Sulu, who had listened quietly during most of 

Sabat's conversation with Scott. 

     "I'm not sure yet," Sabat admitted. 

     "You mean you were sent here without the means 

to stop Trelane?" demanded Scott. 

     "It was not possible to bring alternate means with 

me, Commander.  However, the means to change your 

star system back to the way it was is already here.  

Unfortunately its location is known only to Trelane." 

     Disappointed, Scott stared at a far corner of the 

table while Sulu asked, "How about a plan, Mr. Sabat?  

Surely you have a plan." 

     "Sorry, Mr. Sulu, no plan either.  It was necessary to 

first study the problem before I could devise a plan.  

This is not a wholly accurate description of our 

difficulties, but I offer it to you anyway: Trelane's 

temporal tinkering was particularly dirty, so to speak.  

There was what you could think of as interference, 

which prevented a clear understanding of what he had 

done." 

     "Maybe you've had your problems, too, Mr. Sabat," 

said Scott.  "I apologize for letting my emotions get the 

better of me.  I should have realized you wouldn't 

have been sent here without bringing something of 

value." 

     "I have brought my knowledge, Commander," said 

Sabat, "and there are a few things I can do to help if 

the right things can be made to happen.  To add to 

that, we have your experience and the capabilities of 

your starship.  We might even coax our Romulan 

friends to cooperate a little." 

     "That'll be a cold day on this star system's first 

planet," said Scott sarcastically. 

     "I'm not so sure," said Sabat optimistically.  

"Regardless, we should start using our resources, Mr. 

Scott.  How about assigning some creative people to 

work up some options for dealing with our 

problems?" 

     "Aye, that we could do," Scott agreed.  "Mr. Sulu, could you start something rolling along those lines?" 

     "Yes, Sir!" Sulu responded. 

     "Good," Sabat smiled.  "Now, to address a more 

immediate problem.  You suspect that there are 

people from both the Enterprise and the Talon on the 

planet, all possessing sufficient knowledge to 

introduce dangerous deviations into your history.  Can 

you locate them?" 

     "We haven't been able to," Scott admitted.  "If they 

are down there, they don't have communicators.  We 

have nothing to lock on to.  The best we can do is to be 

alert for anything which could be an alternate way of 

signaling to us." 

     "You're probably right, Mr. Scott," Sabat agreed, 

"but we must get them off the surface quickly.  The 

longer they're down there, the more chance they'll do 

something that should have been avoided.  If you must 

send a landing party to assist them, I suggest that 

Ensign Kramer and I be allowed to go along.  Mr. 

Kramer is quite knowledgeable about the times and 

the events, and I have experience which may prove 

useful." 

     "I will keep your suggestion in mind, Mr. Sabat," 

Scott said.  "As far as I'm concerned, this meeting is 

over.  I should be getting back to the bridge to see if 

there is some way of improving our surveillance of the 

planet." 

                         ----  CHAPTER  TWELVE  ---- 

     When Kirk awoke he saw that the sun had become 

full and yellow over the horizon.  Its warmth was 

spreading over the ground, driving the last of the 

night's chill from the morning air.  Spock was still 

awake, seated by the fire and intently observing the 

people in the groups camped near them.  Miriam was 

pestering Joash, trying to convince him that it was his 

turn to get up and prepare breakfast.  Joash yielded to 

his older sister's persistent pleading and teasing, 

eventually sitting up and pulling one of the bags 

toward himself.  When finally served, the morning 

meal consisted of the last of the bread and cheese 

Miriam and Joash had been carrying. 

   While they ate and gathered all their belongings Kirk 

further questioned Miriam, hoping to learn more 

about the invading Assyrian army.  Adding only a little 

more to what she had already related, Miriam retold 

how she and Joash, like everyone else in their village, 

had awakened three days before to reports that the 

Assyrians were finally moving against the rebellious 

Hezekiah.  She hadn't actually seen any Assyrian 

soldiers, but she had seen village officials and their 

families leaving without even sending scouts to the 

north or to the east to verify the rumors.  This was 

what had convinced her it was time to leave their 

home. 

     While they talked, a mounted squad of soldiers 

rode out from the city, emerging in a single file from a 

slightly opened door of the east wall's main gate.  The 

squad split into a number of teams, four of which rode 

through the refugees and then fanned out in separate 

directions, each with an assigned section of outlying 

land to patrol.  The remaining teams rode among the 

groups of refugees camped around the city.  Each 

group received a quick but careful examination.  At 

times a team of riders would stop to converse with 

refugees who were richly dressed and appeared 

important.  These brief exchanges were too far away 

for Kirk to hear anything of what had been discussed.  

The mounted soldiers eventually reformed at a pre-

arranged point and then thundered back into the city.  

A short time later three additional soldiers appeared 

on the walkway over the east gate.  On command, two 

of the soldiers raised trumpets to their lips and blew a 

loud fanfare.  Scattered cheers broke out from some of 

the refugee groups as people shouldered their 

belongings and started converging on the opening 

east gate, apparently the only entrance which would 

be made available that day for admission into the city. 

     "Please come with us," Miriam said earnestly to 

Kirk and Spock, looking first at one and then the other.  

"I want to take you to see my Uncle Abram.  He is an 

official in the service of the King, and a man of some 

importance in the city.  If he will agree to let you work 

for him you will at least have food and more security 

than any other city in the path of the Assyrian army 

can offer." 

     "Well I. ." Kirk started to say. 

     "Oh, please," Miriam begged.  "After all you've done 

to help us since last night, he wouldn't dare turn you 

away." 

     Kirk looked to Spock for advice, and seeing no 

objection, he relented, "Well, if you're sure we won't 

be a burden to Uncle Abram.  Come on, Spock.  We're 

going to apply for a job." 

     Miriam and Joash smiled, pleased that Kirk and 

Spock would be around for a while longer, and then 

they started walking toward the mass of people 

pressing to pass through the inadequate aperture of 

the east gate. 

                                           *    *    * 

     Ksariss and Kohbrah had spent the remainder of 

the night sleeping apart from the rest of the Assyrian 

troops.  At sunrise they discreetly mingled with an 

inattentive group of reluctant early risers and 

collected their breakfast rations.  On the lips of the 

few who talked as they ate was the rumor that the 

Emperor had been pleased with the army's progress 

during the previous days' marches.  This apparently 

accounted for the additional allotment of dried meat 

included with the morning meal, which contained a 

great deal more salt than the two Romulans were 

accustomed to ingesting at one sitting. 

     "How fortunate that this planet's surface is seventy-

five-percent water," muttered Kohbrah.  "I shall need 

to drink most of it to digest whatever that was I just 

swallowed." 

     "You have a demonstrated predilection toward 

excessive drinking, Commander," Ksariss noted 

contemptuously. 

     As Ksariss was speaking Trelane appeared before 

them covering his mouth in a vain attempt to conceal 

his amusement at their bickering.  "You know, there 

are times when I seriously doubt that you are both on 

the same side," he teased. 

     The two Romulans exchanged dirty looks. 

     "If, perchance, you can make up your minds to work 

together, please pay attention," said Trelane.  "I have 

come to explain what you must do this morning." 

     "Just don't forget that you promised to give us 

James Kirk," Ksariss reminded him. 

     "Precisely what I intend to do, my dear and 

impatient gentlewoman," beamed Trelane, "but first, 

you must convince the Assyrian Emperor Sennacherib 

to help you catch him." 

     Kohbrah rolled his eyes in profound disbelief, and 

even Ksariss momentarily regarded Trelane's sanity 

with suspicion, but she was too much a prisoner of her 

dreams of claiming James Kirk to deny Trelane an 

opportunity to explain. 

     "This little deception is going to be so much fun," 

Trelane bubbled.  "Even you, good Commander 

Kohbrah, will have a role to play: a squad commander 

who has just returned from a reconnaissance patrol 

south into Egypt.  You must report convincingly to the 

Emperor that you found no army waiting in Egypt to 

march to the aid of King Hezekiah in Jerusalem.  I 

think you'll perform quite admirably: you know what 

you must do, your uniform has become sufficiently 

soiled through the night, and you smell badly enough, 

I think, to convince anyone that you've recently 

returned from a long, hard ride." 

     Trelane was pleased to see that his taunting of 

Ksariss' companion had won her back over to his side.  

"And you, my lady," he gushed, as though about to 

shower her with riches beyond measure, "we must 

exchange your obscene costume for something more 

suitable for a beautiful woman of means, and mystery, 

and terrible mystic powers: a sorceress!" 

     Trelane passed his hands with extravagant flourish 

before her, and her soldier's raiment transformed into 

a full-length black gown, its low neckline framing a 

silver necklace from which dangled a jeweled crescent 

moon.  Her naturally black hair hung straight and long 

over her shoulders.  Rings and bracelets of exquisite 

craftsmanship and exotic mystical design further 

adorned her, and a black veil obscured her face.  

Kohbrah turned away, for the creature Trelane had 

created painfully reminded him of why he had first 

begun planning the rescue of Ksariss from Federation 

custody.  Trelane, however, waltzed in elation around 

his creation and broke into enthusiastic applause for 

himself. 

     "Now, all you have to do," he said excitedly to 

Ksariss," is play along with what happens, and when 

the right time comes, simply convince Sennacherib to 

reconsider his plans for attacking Egypt, and turn 

instead toward the city of Jerusalem where Kirk will 

have sought refuge from the Assyrian army." 

     "I shall need to know more than this!" Ksariss 

objected.  "By what means am I expected to sway the 

mind of this Emperor?" 

     "Just a simple reading," explained Trelane, "very 

much like a crystal ball, except that these people don't 

use crystal balls.  Just remember that you're a 

sorceress, with power to see all and know all.  You'll 

catch on.  Now come, quickly.  His Highness is 

preparing for a final meeting with his advisors.  You'll 

be expected." 

     Looking very much the part of a high-ranking 

Assyrian officer, Trelane led them through the camp, 

into the heavily guarded cluster of tents reserved for 

the Emperor and his closest advisors.  Before the 

entrance to the meeting tent were stationed guards 

who relieved Trelane and Kohbrah of their weapons.  

The guards were, however, reluctant to press Ksariss 

to surrender any weapon she might be carrying; and, 

indeed, she was carrying a weapon: her dagger, which 

Trelane had secretly allowed to remain concealed 

within the folds of her gown.  It gave her confidence to 

know she would have an initial advantage if any part 

of Trelane's bizarre scheme went awry.  As for the 

guards, as long as the sorceress made no threatening 

moves, they were happier not involving themselves in 

any manner in her affairs. 

     After being relieved of any obvious potential 

threats to the Emperor, they were admitted into an 

antechamber which was separated from the actual 

meeting chamber by an ornately embroidered curtain.  

The Emperor's senior ministers clustered into their 

own tight little group, jealously eyeing Trelane in a 

way which suggested to Ksariss that Trelane was 

regarded as something of an upstart in the cadre of 

the Emperor's advisors: an outsider who had 

cultivated high favor with the Emperor before having 

paid his required due of extended loyal service, and, 

more importantly, climbing through the ranks of their 

private advisor's hierarchy.  Several senior advisors 

who held military rank frowned upon the presence of 

Kohbrah, a mere squad commander, a low-ranking 

expendable peasant among command officers who 

had been invited to attend this audience with the 

Emperor by orders which none of them had issued.  

They all regarded Ksariss, the sorceress, with 

trepidation: some, according to their own espoused 

superstitions, fearing the powers of any sorceress, 

while others, not as easily misled by magician's tricks, 

feared the spells she might weave to further befuddle 

the thinking of the Emperor.  These tensions had only 

begun to congeal when a man opened the curtain from 

behind and announced, "His Highness will see you all 

now." 

     Each advisor attending the meeting entered the 

Emperor's chamber and bowed before the man on the 

throne before going to stand behind one of the 

cushions arranged on the floor in a semicircle at a 

discrete distance from the throne.  Kohbrah did his 

best to imitate the protocol of his predecessors, and 

then took his place behind a cushion.  Ksariss, loathe 

to bow before any man, determined that she would 

play her role as the sorceress boldly.  She entered the 

chamber and stood for a moment without bowing.  

She then moved with an air of great authority through 

the semicircle of advisors and stood silently studying 

the Emperor, her eyes, obscured by her veil, boring 

into his.  She held his gaze for several minutes, and 

then stood at the right hand side of his throne.  

Slightly unnerved by what Ksariss had done the 

Emperor scanned his advisors, seeking Trelane.  He 

then glanced momentarily at Ksariss before asking of 

Trelane, "Is this she who will divine my future?" 

     "This is she of whom I spoke, Your Highness," said 

Trelane, very pleased with the gutsy entrance Ksariss 

had executed.  "No greater power lives which can 

probe the mists of time to come." 

     "My gratitude," said the Emperor, bowing his head 

slightly toward Trelane.  "You have petitioned for 

leave from the rest of these proceedings so that you 

might perform further service to me.  Permission is 

granted." 

     "My gratitude to you, Your Highness," 

acknowledged Trelane, bowing low and then hurrying 

out of the meeting chamber. 

     The Emperor nodded to his most senior advisor 

who then lowered himself onto his cushion.  As the 

rest of the advisors made themselves comfortable on 

their cushions the Emperor stood, facing them.  When 

he had their attention he began speaking. 

     "We march to war because the rebellious Hezekiah 

has refused to pay his required tribute.  By this, he 

refuses to give homage to his sovereign on the throne 

of Assyria.  He forsakes the path of peace, instead, 

fortifying his cities and preparing for war.  He seeks 

an alliance with Egypt, hoping that together, he and 

Egypt will prevail against my armies.  The throne of 

Assyria will not abide such effronteries.  Those who 

question its authority will be severely punished.  For 

this purpose of visiting retribution against my enemy, 

Hezekiah, I have decreed this campaign, bringing my 

armies firstly here, to this Judean city of Lachish, 

which now lies under our siege.  I propose to take this 

city and use it as a base for further campaigns." 

     "Some of you, my loyal advisors, are asking why I 

chose to march first against Lachish instead of 

Hezekiah's capital city, Jerusalem.  As you have seen, 

Lachish is not as heavily fortified as Jerusalem.  

Therefore, Lachish requires a smaller contingent of 

troops to contain the city and maintain a siege.  I have 

deemed that the force now primarily assigned to the 

siege of Lachish will be sufficient to deal with any 

military threat that Hezekiah is brave enough to 

mount.  As I read this insolent King, he is afraid to 

leave the walls of his city.  He will remain there, 

intimidated and fearful, entirely on the defensive, 

waiting for us to move against him.  Our army's 

presence here at Lachish, in addition to his own fears, 

will keep him at bay." 

     "Hezekiah will be counting on assistance from his 

unreliable neighbor, Egypt.  The Egyptians are weak, 

incapable of raising an army strong enough to fight us 

alone and win.  It is easy to see that Egypt badly needs 

Judah, and that Judah badly needs Egypt.  It is my 

intention, simply, to keep the two apart.  Therefore, 

those forces not already committed to keeping 

Hezekiah cowering in Jerusalem will march 

southward into Egypt.  We shall conquer the land of 

the Nile, and then, with this prize under our control, 

Hezekiah will be left standing alone with only one 

intelligent choice: accede to our demands.  After these 

events have come to pass, all of the world's trade will 

flow through lands controlled by Assyria.  We shall 

levy extravagant duties on this vital commerce, and 

reign as the richest, most powerful empire in the 

known world.  This is my inspired plan, my design for 

the empire I would leave to my successor.  I have tried 

my best to enlighten you.  Are there any points which 

yet remain unclear?" 

     None of the advisors uttered a word.  The Emperor 

had laid before them his ambition, and his vision of 

how these things would come to be.  At this point the 

Emperor's blueprint was almost law, except for a 

superstitious, self-imposed constraint.  In support of a 

military gamble of this magnitude, His Highness 

required a reading; and for this he had summoned the 

sorceress.  If the gods were willing, through her the 

Emperor could look through the veil of time, through 

the present and into the future, and determine the 

appropriateness of his plan in their eyes. 

     "Very well, discussion is closed," stated the 

Emperor. 

     Ksariss felt a heavy, uncomfortable silence 

permeate the chamber as the eyes of every person, 

including those of the Emperor, turned toward her.  

Obviously she was expected to do something - but 

what?  Somehow the weight of the dagger hidden in 

the folds of her gown, which had previously made her 

feel so bold, now seemed to offer no reassurance.  You 

can't lose your grip now, she reminded herself.  Don't 

panic! 

     "What would Your Highness ask of me now?" she 

inquired of Sennacherib. 

     "Why, the reading, of course, my lady," the emperor 

gently reminded. 

     Ksariss slowly looked at each of the advisors seated 

before the Emperor's throne.  While looking at each 

man, she managed to search most of the chamber, 

discovering nothing which suggested it might be 

appropriately used for any kind of “reading”.  Maybe, 

she reasoned, whatever she was supposed to “read” 

simply wasn't in the chamber yet. 

     "Bring the necessary items to me," she directed, 

hoping very much to have something show up. 

     Sennacherib motioned to servants who had been 

waiting out of sight behind his throne.  This initiated a 

hidden flurry of activity.  One servant appeared 

carrying a long, ornate knife, its handle carved with 

symbols matching those on Ksariss' jewelry.  The 

knife was borne in a folded piece of fine, rich red cloth. 

     Ksariss had placed her hands together in front of 

her face, attempting to appear as though she was in 

deep meditation.  She stayed that way, deciding to 

ignore the servant, the knife, the Emperor, and 

everybody else in the chamber for the time being.  If 

nothing else was brought to her, or if her audience 

became impatient expecting her to make the next 

move, then she would just have to come up with a 

next move.  She mentally complimented herself for 

following this inspiration, for another round of 

bustling behind the throne preceded the entrance of 

three other servants, each one pulling a reluctant goat 

by a rope around its neck.  The three servants stood 

before her, each maneuvering his respective goat to a 

position in front of himself, and watched, as if 

expecting her to choose the animal which suited her. 

     Following an impulse, she said, "That one," as she pointed to the goat on her right. 

     The servant bearing the knife presented it to the 

servant in charge of the chosen goat, who took the 

knife in the cloth, bowed to the Emperor, and then 

wrestled his tethered charge out of the meeting 

chamber.  As the two unchosen goats were removed 

from the presence of the emperor, Ksariss went back 

into her façade of meditation and awaited the next 

development. 

     In a matter of minutes the caretaker of the chosen 

goat reentered the meeting chamber carrying a basket 

which was covered by the red cloth originally 

wrapped around the ornate knife.  He placed the 

basket on the floor of the tent before Ksariss, bowed 

again to the Emperor, and then hastily retreated from 

the chamber. 

     Ksariss knelt before the basket and gingerly took 

hold of the corners of the red cloth.  She folded the 

cloth back, and gave thanks for the protection her 

black veil afforded in keeping everyone from seeing 

the expression of surprise on her face.  Where, Ksariss 

wondered, had Trelane ever encountered mystical 

rites this bizarre? 

     She forced herself to concentrate on the execution 

of a slow, deliberate deep breath, for inside the basket 

were several freshly extracted animal organs 

presumably removed from the body of the chosen 

goat.  Regrettably, Ksariss was not well versed in the 

anatomy of Terran quadrupeds, and was at a loss to 

identify the organic contents of the basket except for 

the heart which still beat erratically. 

     It appeared that she was expected to examine what 

had been placed in the basket.  This would be 

consistent with some of the things she had learned 

about sometimes practiced mystical fortune-telling 

religious rites from Kohbrah's Earth history tape.  

Fortunately, the ornate knife which had been used to 

kill the goat and prepare the grisly potpourri had been 

left in the basket.  Ksariss took it and began turning, 

probing, and pushing around the still-warm contents 

of the basket, all the while mumbling unhappily to 

herself about how stupid she had been for not 

demanding more information from Trelane about the 

expected reading.  Vowing to avenge her present 

humiliation on Kirk, she put on a good show of 

analyzing the prophetic goat's entrails before placing 

the knife back into the basket and covering its 

contents with the red cloth. 

     When she looked toward the throne she easily 

found the eager eyes of Sennacherib.  "O Mighty Ruler, 

I have seen that you please the gods by bringing your 

armies to Judah and laying siege to the city of 

Lachish," she began, "for you have now divided the 

forces of Judah.  But beware, O Sennacherib, for the 

gods have revealed that you misread Egypt.  They 

forewarn you to hear their words: Egypt fears you 

more than does Judah.  While Hezekiah invites war 

with Assyria, Egypt trembles at the very thought, and 

shrinks from opposing you.  To reap success in this 

venture, O Sennacherib, you must turn away from the 

march to the south, and instead vanquish your enemy 

Hezekiah." 

     "One moment, my lady," interrupted the Emperor, 

"what does the future hold if I keep my own council, 

marching on Egypt as originally planned?" 

     "Doom, Your Highness!" stressed Ksariss.  "To 

march on Egypt is to divide your own forces.  

Hezekiah will fight and destroy half your army at 

Lachish.  When Egypt learns of his victory, it will find 

its courage, and such forces as they can muster will 

join Hezekiah in the Sinai to face your remaining half-

army." 

     "The seer speaks wisely, Your Highness," shouted 

Kohbrah, springing eagerly to his feet.  "I led a squad 

of scouts south into the Sinai.  We scoured each dune, 

hill, and valley.  Disguised as merchants, we rode for 

days along the banks of the Nile and found no 

Egyptian army waiting to help Hezekiah." 

     Sennacherib looked from Kohbrah to the veiled face 

of Ksariss and back again.  "The gods have spoken," he 

quietly admitted to himself.  Then, in a stronger voice 

for all to hear, he decreed, "In light of these 

revelations a revised campaign strategy will be 

implemented.  Those forces currently assigned to the 

siege of Lachish will continue attempts to take the 

city.  All remaining troops will prepare to march at 

daybreak to the city of Hezekiah!" 

                                              *    *    * 

     Miriam led her group through Jerusalem's east gate 

where they, like everyone else, were detained by a 

squad of soldiers for another inspection.  Spock had 

been keeping the hood of his garment close about his 

head, and had been avoiding prolonged eye contact 

with everyone.  As the squad's inspectors closely 

examined the contents of each bag, one of them 

noticed that Spock seemed ill at ease and began to 

scrutinize him suspiciously. 

     As Kirk listened to Miriam answer the questions 

directed at her, he surmised that the squad leader was 

an acquaintance of Miriam's family.  He had first 

discharged his official duty of the interview, probing 

for anything of importance which should be passed on 

to his superiors.  With that formality out of the way 

their conversation had strayed to personal topics, 

from the whereabouts and status of mutual 

acquaintances to conditions within the city.  As they 

continued talking the suspicious inspector continued 

eyeing Spock.  The expression of uncertainty on his 

face transformed into one of determined conviction, 

and he left his station, sliding beside the squad leader 

and requesting a private moment to discuss his 

misgivings about the tall, hooded traveler. 

     The squad leader stepped aside, listening to the 

inspector's concerns.  Kirk had been discreetly 

keeping an eye on this development, and he felt a 

growing concern as both soldiers began studying 

Spock.  The squad leader thanked the inspector for his 

alertness, and sent him back to his station after 

promising to investigate the points brought to his 

attention. 

     Coming over to Miriam, the squad leader lowered 

his head and quietly said, "One of my men has 

questioned the wisdom of admitting your friends into 

the city.  I hope you won't take it personally, because 

they are under strict orders to report any suspicions 

refugees trying to pass through the gate.  We cannot 

afford to admit any Assyrian sympathizers." 

     "These men are not Assyrian sympathizers!" 

Miriam discreetly assured.  "In fact, they will be 

employed by Uncle Abram." 

     "Employed by your Uncle Abram?" the squad leader 

repeated.  "Then they must be men of exceptional 

character." 

     "Believe me," smiled Miriam, "they are." 

     "Excellent," said the relieved squad leader.  "As long 

as your uncle is vouching for everybody, we can let 

you all go on your way.  He is probably anxious to 

know that you are safe." 

     Farewells were exchanged, and Miriam's group 

walked into the city.  Everywhere there were soldiers 

and workers preparing for battle.  All the windows in 

the buildings had shutters secured over them, and not 

a single door hung open.  At this point it was 

impossible to guess whether the buildings' owners 

were more afraid of Assyrian soldiers breaching the 

city walls or of the hordes of refugees who wandered 

aimlessly through the streets, unsure of where to find 

shelter, or even food, as most of the street vendors 

had already sold their precious rationed inventories 

and had left for the day. 

     They walked through a maze of seemingly 

featureless streets, passing many more completely 

shuttered quite ordinary buildings, until they 

encountered the wall.  It was high and strong, made of 

blocks of stone which were tightly fitted, and it could 

have enclosed a great number of smaller buildings like 

those which existed around it. 

     What the wall actually enclosed was impossible to 

see from the street.  As Kirk had slowed to examine it, 

he had fallen behind Miriam and Joash, who had 

actually walked more rapidly past the wall's single 

imposing, massive wooden gate, and the two stern 

military sentinels who flanked it.  Out of loyalty, Spock 

had stayed near Kirk.  A moment later the two of them 

ran to catch up with Miriam as she continued pulling 

Joash along with her.  When Kirk had caught up with 

her, he looked back at the wall and asked, "Does 

someone important live inside that compound?" 

     "Not likely!" answered Miriam with a quick glance 

at Kirk.  "Inside that wall is the most heavily guarded 

prison in the city." 

     Once out of sight of the prison's walls, Miriam 

allowed their pace to slow to a more relaxed gait.  As 

they continued walking they met fewer and fewer 

refugees, and the lots upon which buildings were 

situated became larger, often incorporating intricate 

landscaping and gardens to partially hide dwellings 

from viewers in the street. 

     Miriam stopped before a gate which barred their 

entrance to a thickly populated garden divided by a 

curved stone path ending at the door of someone who 

obviously derived a comfortable living from his 

occupation.  Miriam called out a greeting several 

times.  An elderly servant soon appeared behind the 

gate and began explaining to Miriam that the allegedly 

modest estate within the gardens was private 

property.  Somewhat amused, Miriam interrupted him 

and attempted to identify herself, pointing out that the 

owner of the house was expecting her.  The elderly 

servant responded with a look which inferred that he 

had long since passed his quota of surprises for the 

day, but he added that he would nevertheless, out of 

the goodness of his heart, fetch his master to decide 

what to do with her and her dusty associates.  Shaking 

his head and muttering a string of comments which 

were blatantly unkind toward Assyrians and most of 

their ancestors for the ways they had upset his city's 

peaceful lifestyle, the servant shuffled up the path, 

under the overhanging budding branches of the 

garden's trees, and then around the corner of the 

partially obscured house. 

     A moment later another older, grey-bearded man 

appeared under the shaded roof at the front entrance 

to the house and peered through the overhanging 

branches at the people outside the gate.  "Uncle 

Abram!" shouted Miriam as she began waving.  Joash 

stuck his arm through the bars of the gate and waved 

as he added, "Hi, Uncle Abram!" 

     "Miriam!  Joash!" exclaimed the man as he began 

running down the garden path and calling to his 

servant, "Come quickly and open the gate.  Let my 

niece and nephew enter!" 

     When the gate was opened, Abram, Miriam, and 

Joash converged into a grand, swirling hug.  Kirk and 

Spock quietly entered the garden standing just inside 

the gate under the careful scrutiny of the elderly 

servant and hoping that they had not intruded too far 

before being invited.  Eventually Uncle Abram noticed 

them and assumed a more formal, erect posture while 

keeping his arms around Miriam and Joash. 

     "Miriam, dear," Abram said, "I don't believe that 

you have introduced me to your, er, fellow travelers." 

     "Sorry, Uncle Abram," she smiled.  "These men are 

James, and Spock."  She had indicated each with her 

open hand.  Kirk and Abram clasped hands.  Spock 

merely bowed. 

     "You'll learn that Spock is the quiet type," Miriam 

explained to her uncle, "and that some of his customs 

are different, but if you give things a little time you'll 

come to like him, and James, too, just as Joash and I 

have.  Please invite them in, Uncle.  Joash and I have a 

story to tell you, and then a favor to ask." 

     "Very well," Abram gave way to Miriam's wishes 

and his own curiosity.  "Come, gentlemen, enter my 

humble home.  All I can offer you at the present is a 

cool place to rest and some water.  Almost everything 

else in the city, especially food, has been rationed, you 

understand." 

     "Thank you for your hospitality, Sir," responded 

Kirk.  "A place to rest and some water would be most 

appreciated." 

     Kirk and Spock followed Uncle Abram, Miriam, and 

Joash along the stone path as they excitedly chattered, 

relating the tale of their journey to Jerusalem, and the 

previous night's adventure with the gang of thieves.  

As the stories progressed, they all entered a courtyard 

behind the house.  There they rested while Miriam 

recounted how Kirk and Spock had come dashing 

through the trees to disperse the gang of thieves. 

     "It seems that I am greatly indebted to you two 

men," Abram acknowledged at the conclusion of 

Miriam's story.  "What can I possibly do to repay your 

kindness?" 

     "Uncle Abram," Miriam interrupted, "I hope you 

don't mind, but I kind of suggested that you might 

have some work for them." 

     "I see," said Abram, stroking his beard thoughtfully.  

He looked from Miriam and Joash to Kirk, and then to 

Spock.  "You know," he said to Spock, "I'd feel much 

more comfortable with you if you could put down that 

hood." 

     "I do not wish to offend you in your own home, sir," 

Spock answered, "but it is necessary that I wear this 

garment in this manner." 

     ". .because," Kirk added, "his ears can become cold 

very easily."  And that's not totally untrue, Kirk 

rationalized, because a comfortable terran 

environment was nearly always colder than a normal 

Vulcan environment. 

     Abram decided to let the matter drop.  After all, 

Miriam had warned him that the one named Spock 

would be a little different.  He was inclined to trust 

Miriam's assessment of the two strangers.  He had 

learned over the years that he and Miriam nearly 

always formed the same opinions about the same 

people.  After several additional minutes of studying 

the two men, he finally said, "As it so happens, I am in 

need of someone who can handle a position of 

responsibility.  You see, my job is to oversee 

preparations for the defense of my assigned sector of 

the city.  Often I must communicate with other sector 

overseers, and for this I must rely on dependable, 

trustworthy messengers to deliver my 

communications.  Now, you might wonder why I 

would mention this to two strangers.  As it so 

happens, my niece is usually a pretty good judge of 

character.  You've convinced her that you can be 

trusted, and that you're dependable and loyal.  And, I 

believe that you two work well as a team.  I'm going to 

honor her request and offer you two this job.  It won't 

place a lot of gold coins in your purses, but as long as 

Jerusalem stands you'll be safe and as well fed as well 

as any of the King's men." 

     "We'd be honored to accept," said Kirk, "wouldn't 

we, Spock?" 

     "Oh. .yes, Sir.  Most honored," Spock added. 

     ". .and, I'm sure we can justify your trust in us," said 

Kirk in an attempt to end their acceptances on a 

smooth note. 

     "So let it be," said Abram.  "The first thing I must do 

is prepare letters of introduction for you.  You will 

spend the day carrying them to the other sector 

overseers.  That way they will learn that you are my 

personal representatives, and you will familiarize 

yourselves with the layout of the city." 

     Within the hour Kirk and Spock had been given 

their letters and a list of officials they would meet, and 

they had been briefed in detail about their duties and 

the locations of important sites in the city.  Abram was 

anxious that they should be on their way to meet with 

all the other overseers before the end of the day. 

     The first meetings occurred without incident.  Each 

of the overseers they met was cordial and helpful in 

providing directions to the headquarters of the next 

official on their list.  Aided by Spock's exceptional 

memory, they made good progress in discharging 

their day's work as the shadows became longer in the 

streets. 

     Kirk looked toward the sky, noting that it was late 

afternoon.  He checked the list he was carrying, 

counted the number of unvisited officials which 

remained, and mentally performed a simple 

calculation. 

     "It’s getting late," he observed.  "I wonder if we'll 

get this all finished today." 

     "Only if we find some way to improve our travel 

efficiency," said Spock. 

     "Do you mean that we should find some shortcuts?" 

Kirk asked. 

     "It should be possible with the geographical 

knowledge of the city we have accumulated thus far," 

stated Spock. 

     "Alright," said Kirk as he stopped to look around, 

"we'll take a shortcut.  Which one?" 

     Spock studied the street they were on, mentally 

estimating distances and gauging directions from the 

position of the sun in the sky.  He pointed toward a 

narrow alley farther ahead of them on the right side of 

the street.  "If I am correct," he said, "that narrow 

passageway should cut several minutes from our time 

to the next overseer's headquarters." 

     "Very well, Mr. Spock.  The narrow passageway it 

shall be," Kirk frivolously announced as he stepped 

lightly toward Spock's indicated shortcut. 

     Spock hastened to rejoin Kirk, wishing to discuss 

something he had kept in the back of his mind since 

their placement on the planet's surface the previous 

night. 

     "Captain?" 

     "Yes, Spock?" 

     "I was curious to know if you had formulated a way 

to contact the ship." 

     "Not exactly," Kirk admitted, "but I have been 

thinking about it." 

     "If I may ask, what have your thoughts been?" 

     "That it may not be easy, without our 

communicators and using contemporary technology, 

to communicate with a spaceship that is somewhere, 

thousands of miles away in space." 

     "Then, you have not solved this problem." 

     "No, I haven't, Spock.  Have you?" 

     "Regrettably, no." 

     "Well, don't take it too hard, Spock.  We'll simply 

keep working on it." 

     They reached the alley and followed its narrow 

path as it snaked between the buildings on either side.  

Kirk stopped, smiling in the confining atmosphere of a 

walkway which would permit only two, or maybe 

three people, if they were small and very friendly, to 

pass through it side-by-side.  He could see neither end 

of the alley.  He searched the buildings, noting that the 

alley's doors and windows were all as tightly secured 

as any he had seen in the city.  He studied the 

encroaching shadows, and realized that objects in the 

constrictive avenue were hued predominantly in 

shades of grey. 

     Then Kirk stopped suddenly because he was certain 

he had seen a dark human figure slinking into 

shadows cast by buildings they had already passed      

     "Be quiet," Kirk said with a finger at his lips.  "I get 

the disquieting feeling that we're being followed." 

     Spock listened carefully for several seconds before 

whispering, "Yes, Captain, by at least two people." 

     They resumed walking, this time at a faster pace, 

listening for signs that they were being approached 

from the rear, and casting occasional glances at places 

they had just passed.  Soon the brighter light of a 

major street loomed ahead of them.  As they emerged 

from the shadows of the alley, four men who had been 

leaning against the buildings at either side of the 

entrance dashed into the wider street and formed an 

obstructing semicircle in front of Kirk and Spock. 

     "Well, now," sneered one of the troublemakers, "if it 

isn't our two friends what likes to push their noses 

into other people's business!" 

     Kirk recognized the man speaking and two of the 

others as the thieves who had assailed Miriam and 

Joash the night before.  Hearing footsteps to his rear, 

Kirk turned around to see the two followers from the 

alley blocking any possibility of retreat in that 

direction.  By this point in the standoff each of the six 

men had armed himself with either a knife or a club. 

     On a signal from their leader the gang rushed at 

Kirk and Spock.  Kirk kicked a knife from the hand of 

one and dropped another to the ground with a two-

handed chop to the base of his neck.  Spock thrust his 

right foot rearward into the stomach of his closest 

assailant and ducked under the swinging club of 

another.  Like a cat, Spock maneuvered behind the 

man with the club and rendered him unconscious with 

a nerve pinch.  Another assailant leaped frantically 

onto Spock's back.  Spock tried unsuccessfully to 

shake him off, and then drove himself aggressively 

backward into the side of a building.  The impact 

stunned the man on Spock's back.  As he slid toward 

the ground he tried half-heartedly to grab onto 

something, his fingers finding a secure enough grip on 

Spock's hood to pull it from his head. 

     The fight stopped immediately.  One of the still-

standing assailants screamed in terror, then pointed 

at Spock and shouted, "Demon!!  Demon!!" 

     By this time the commotion of the street fight and 

the screaming about demons had attracted a noisy 

audience.  There were scattered warning shouts from 

the outside of the crowd because a contingent of 

soldiers was hurrying to investigate the disturbance.            

     The gang leader stepped back from the affair and 

feverishly motioned for the soldiers to hurry to him. 

     "Look!" he said to the first soldiers to arrive as he 

pointed to Spock's pointed ears.  "He’s not human: 

he's a demon!  And the other man," he said, pointing to 

Kirk, "I seen him traveling with the demon!" 

     The gang leader leaped at Kirk and pulled his robe 

away from him, revealing Kirk's Starfleet uniform.  A 

brave member of the gang did the same to Spock.  The 

gang leader shied back from Kirk, pretending to be in 

great fear as he pointed and cried, "Do you see?  They 

are not of our city!"  He dropped to his knees before 

one of the soldiers and pleaded, "Protect us!  Do your 

duty.  Take them away from us, please!" 

     The rest of the crowd picked up on the gang 

leader's theme, raising a great tumult which echoed 

what he had started.  Kirk and Spock found 

themselves surrounded by more soldiers and aroused 

civilians than they could ever hope to overpower.  The 

gang of thieves, still in possession of the confiscated 

robes, gleefully disappeared into the alley, taking with 

them Kirk's and Spock's only slim hope for 

vindication, Abram's identifying letters of 

introduction. 

     Someone with a face hidden in an unnaturally dark 

hood appeared with lengths of strong cord, and Kirk 

and Spock were swiftly bound and being pulled 

through the street.  A mob grew around them; a 

seething mass of people fighting to catch a glimpse of 

the demon.  As they stumbled along, other troops 

pushed their way to the core of the mob to reinforce 

the contingent holding Kirk and Spock in custody.  

They became aware of objects being hurled into the 

mob.  Judging from the putrefying odors which 

resulted from the bombardment, most of the objects 

were rotting food.  Fortunately more and more 

soldiers were surrounding Kirk and Spock and were 

absorbing the brunt of the punishment from the over-

ripe projectiles.  With difficulty Kirk managed to catch 

glimpses of the buildings they were passing, and the 

route being taken by the raucous parade became more 

and more familiar.  They were being led down the 

same street they had walked that very morning with 

Miriam and Joash; the street which passed by the most 

heavily guarded prison in the city. 

                       ----  CHAPTER  THIRTEEN  ---- 

     Once more Kirk slowly walked around the 

perimeter of the dark cell he shared with Spock.  In his 

previous inspections, walking the same circuit, he had 

been unable to discover a single defect in the thick 

stone walls.  The fitting of the individual stones 

seemed to be of the same high level of craftsmanship 

as the wall which bordered the prison complex. 

     A little while before, Kirk had tried digging into the 

cell's dirt floor by scooping the dirt aside with his 

hands.  To his dismay the soil several centimeters 

below the surface had become too hard to be 

exhumed that way.  In frustration he had just kicked 

his small pile of excavated dirt back into the hole he 

had made. 

     He came to the cell door which was made of solid, 

heavy wood, hinged and securely fastened from 

outside the cell.  There were no windows to the 

outside in the walls, but through the small square 

barred opening in the door, Kirk could still see fading 

rays of dim natural light in the central corridor which 

divided two long rows of cells. 

     Kirk had been amazed with the facility with which 

he and Spock had been committed to their cell.  One of 

the soldiers must have run ahead of the rabble 

swarming around the troops which were escorting 

them toward the prison and had forewarned the 

prison guards about the approach of the unruly 

crowd.  As they had approached the gate in the outer 

prison wall Kirk had seen that it was already being 

opened for them.  He and Spock, and several of the 

soldiers closest to them, had been squeezed through 

the partially opened gate while the remaining troops 

had deployed themselves to hold the angry crowd at 

bay while the heavy gate was secured against them.  

They had been roughly handed off to regular prison 

guards and whisked through a corridor of 

administrator's chambers, then through a heavy 

wooden door at the head of a longer, darker corridor, 

and finally rolled through another waiting open door 

into their cell.  The ponderous, rank odor in the air 

had stung Kirk's eyes and had all but halted his 

breathing.  He had risen to his knees, blinking his eyes 

and holding his breath until it was no longer possible 

to refrain from inhaling.  Spock, also on his knees, had 

closed his eyes tightly as he had struggled to maintain 

a semblance of self-control.  As the guards in the 

corridor had guffawed and taunted, the cell door had 

been forced closed, the resulting echoing 'whump' in 

the darkness conjuring up a feeling of finality which 

Kirk had never fully understood until that moment. 

     Kirk had clenched both fists tightly while still 

kneeling on the floor and had sputtered, "Don't 

you...have.. some other place.. that smells. . better?" 

     In response, a sweaty, leering, ugly face, its 

repulsive smile missing most of its teeth, had 

appeared at the opening in the cell door and had 

proclaimed, "You'll get used to it - if it’s not already 

just like home for you and your demon friend!"  There 

had been a chorus of rolling laughter in the corridor 

which had diminished in volume as the guards had left 

to attend to other duties. 

     That had happened, perhaps, two hours ago.  The 

atmosphere in the cell still assaulted Kirk's olfactory 

senses like a poorly maintained barn, but he had, as 

the guard had predicted, become more used to it.  

Back inside the cell Kirk could see a shadow, which 

was Spock, sitting on the floor in a corner opposite the 

door.  His knees were slightly raised, supporting his 

elbows.  He held his hands together at his forehead, 

his eyes closed, apparently deep in meditation. 

     Kirk walked to the center of the cell and stood with 

his hands on his hips.  He looked around in the various 

directions he had looked dozens of times before.  

"Well, at least we're together," he said. 

     "Yes, apparently because of my resemblance to 

'demons'," Spock answered a moment later.  "Our 

captors must believe that I exercise a supernatural 

control over your mind.  Perhaps they are hoping to 

localize any problems which I, or you and I together, 

might be able to create." 

     "Control...?" asked Kirk in feigned amazement, 

"over my mind?  If you can control my mind, then 

explain how I was able to beat you at chess the last 

time we played.  It couldn't have been more than a 

month ago." 

     "I remember the game," Spock replied, "twenty-

seven days ago.  Your illogical unpredictability does, at 

times, appear to give you something of an advantage." 

     "Yes, only twenty-seven days ago," Kirk started to 

agree, "give or take a few thousand years.  I don't 

know about you, but I'm hungry.  It's been a long time 

since breakfast.  I wonder when they feed us." 

     Kirk walked to the door and shouted through the 

bars in the window, "Hey, anybody, when do we get 

something to eat?" 

     A gruff, agitated voice from a cell across the 

corridor growled, "We get food and water twice a day 

if nobody makes a big fuss.  So how about you keep 

things quiet over there, and don't ruin supper for the 

rest of us!" 

     Kirk shrugged his shoulders and stepped back from 

the door.  The light in the corridor was nearly gone.  

As he watched the shadows merging into an 

encompassing blanket of darkness, he heard the 

corridor door being unlocked and opened.  Two 

guards came through the door and into the corridor, 

each carrying two torches which they set into 

brackets mounted on the walls.  The shimmering light 

provided by the torches performed an eerie dance 

with the more powerful shadows, and the resulting 

illumination was, at best, poor.  The two guards 

opened a cell door on the other side of the corridor, 

and then entered the cell, only to drive two frail, 

elderly men ahead of them into the corridor.  The two 

aged prisoners waited expectantly for a brusque 

command from the guards to accompany them before 

walking with them out through the corridor door.  A 

short time later the four men returned, the two guards 

prodding and driving the two elderly men before 

them with short clubs.  One of the prisoners carried a 

basket of bread loaves, and the other a cask of water.  

At each cell door, one loaf of bread for each prisoner 

was tossed through the window.  Water was rationed 

at one earthenware cup per prisoner.  The cup was 

filled from the cask and passed through the window 

where a prisoner drank his ration and passed the cup 

back out to be filled with water for the other inmates 

in the cell. 

     When the guards arrived at Kirk's and Spock's cell, 

two meager loaves of bread were tossed through the 

barred window onto the dirt floor.  A moment later a 

sweaty guard's face appeared at the window, sporting 

a cruel smile.  "You scum are new here," he said as his 

eyes sought out the prisoners he was addressing.  

"There's rules, and they gets explained only once - so 

listen good!  You gets your water passed in one cup at 

a time.  Now this cup you'll be holding is everybody's 

cup, so you'll drink your water quick, and then pass 

the cup back out so's your partner gets his.  Now, if 

you decides to play stupid games: like maybe you 

don't want to give back the cup, or you gets slippery 

fingers and drops the cup and breaks it, well then, 

we'll just let you spend the night with some new 

cellmates who will explain to you how much they 

dislike having to wait 'till the next meal for their new 

cup.  Most of our troublemakers learn real quick to be 

careful with everybody's cup." 

     With a final stubble-edged grin the guard moved 

away from the window, and their first cup of water 

was passed in.  Kirk passed it to Spock who drank 

dispassionately before carefully handing the cup out 

through the bars. 

     When Kirk received the second cup he looked for a 

moment at the water it held.  "I hope McCoy has been 

keeping our immunizations up to date," he muttered 

before lifting the cup to his lips. 

     "Dr. McCoy is, by nature, distressingly persistent 

about such things," Spock assured.  "You have very 

little to be concerned about." 

     After finishing his turn with the water cup, Kirk 

joined Spock in carefully groping along the floor for 

the loaves of bread.  Spock successfully located both 

loaves and handed one to Kirk.  After brushing the 

worst of the dust off the outer crust, Kirk sampled his 

first tentative nibble.  He judged the bread even more 

unappealing than the water.  The batter had obviously 

contained as much grit as flour when it had been 

prepared, and whoever had baked the loaves hadn't 

wasted a lot of fuel in the ovens.  Even so, they both 

managed to force down their less than appealing meal. 

     "I'm going to make a special point to forego a tip 

when I check out of this dump," Kirk grumbled. 

     "Had I slightly more inclination to express emotion, 

I would wholeheartedly concur," added Spock. 

     When the meal rations had been distributed to each 

prisoner, and the elderly men had been kicked back 

into their cell, the two guards removed the torches 

from the wall brackets and extinguished them before 

securing the corridor door for the evening.  Kirk could 

sense the darkness gloating over its easily won victory 

as he and Spock searched for the least uncomfortable 

position in which to bed down for the night.  Sleep 

came easily to both men on their first night in 

Trelane’s Jerusalem. 

     They awoke hungry and thirsty the next morning.  

Kirk looked out his cell door window and saw that the 

light through the corridor door window was bright, 

suggesting that the sun had been climbing in the sky 

for some time.  Silently and patiently, Kirk and Spock 

waited for their morning rations.  It became apparent 

that the guards were in no special hurry to attend to 

this humane chore.  Kirk attempted to make good use 

of the idle time by planning an escape and a way of 

signaling to his ship.  Unfortunately, most of the 

schemes which he devised depended heavily upon 

having resources beyond his immediate ability to 

acquire.  He wondered what McCoy could say if he 

was with them to keep their spirits up.  In his mind 

Kirk enacted several uplifting dialogues with McCoy 

before pulling his thoughts back to extracting himself 

and Spock from the ironclad hopeless predicament 

into which they had fallen. 

     Finally Kirk heard the corridor door being 

unlocked.  Two different, though no less cruel and 

unkempt guards slogged down the corridor and 

dragged the same two elderly men from their cell.  

Eventually they were made to follow the same 

routine, distributing food and water as they had the 

night before. 

     Between times of pressing the elderly men to work 

faster the two guards talked among themselves, 

unwittingly bringing news of interest from the outside 

to Kirk and Spock.  Reverberating throughout the city 

was the story of mounted Hebrew scouts discovering 

a large force of Assyrian troops marching toward 

Jerusalem from the direction of Lachish.  At the rate 

the Assyrians were traveling, they would reach the 

city by nightfall. 

     Kirk waited until the two guards had locked the 

corridor door before risking conversation with Spock.  

"Maybe coming into this city wasn't such a good idea 

after all," he said. 

     Spock chose to say nothing. 

     "I gather from your silence that we are in 

agreement," Kirk observed. 

     "If I was pressured into making a statement, I 

would have to agree with you," replied Spock. 

     "I'm not going to pressure you for any statements," 

said Kirk, "but I will ask for your assessment of our 

options." 

     "I see two options," Spock said.  "Wait here where 

we are, where our future is uncertain and perilous, or, 

attempt an escape; however slim the chance of 

success." 

     "An escape?" Kirk questioned.  Now he wished he 

had asked Spock about this sooner. 

     "Precisely," Spock answered.  "There is a time 

which offers both the opportunity for escape and 

materials to be used in signaling to a ship overhead, 

assuming, of course, that a ship would be positioned 

overhead to receive such a signal." 

     "A signal?" asked Kirk, now very curious about 

what had been brewing in Spock's mind.  "Explain, 

please." 

     "The time I am referring to is during the evening 

meal, when the guards return with the prisoners who 

pass out the rations," explained Spock.  "There are 

only two guards.  I have not determined how to 

persuade them to open our cell door, but if that could 

be accomplished, along with, of course, overpowering 

the guards, then we could utilize the torches which 

they hang in the corridor and the basket in which the 

bread loaves are carried to signal from some open 

place." 

     "Creating an intelligently changing light pattern - 

something like Morse Code," suggested Kirk. 

     "Possibly," said Spock, "but it is useless to settle 

upon a protocol for signaling if we cannot first 

determine how to reach a suitable place from which to 

signal." 

     "Don't be so quick to discard this," said Kirk 

hopefully.  "Maybe there's a way we can make this 

work." 

     "I am not sure I completely understand, Captain." 

     "Tell me, Spock," said Kirk, developing a 

mischievous gleam in his eye, "do you think you could 

learn to act like a demon?" 

                                                *    *    * 

         The day had progressed into late afternoon.  In 

the time which had passed since the morning meal 

Kirk and Spock had prepared, as well as they could, a 

plan for escape.  Both were beginning to feel the 

effects of limited food and water, and both had agreed 

that their best chance for a successful escape lay in 

attempting it while they still had the strength and the 

will to pull it off. 

     In time, the outside light faded.  As darkness again 

enveloped the corridor and the interiors of the cells 

the door at the head of the corridor was opened, and 

two different guards entered.  This time one of the 

guards had brought the basket of loaves and the water 

with him, while the other had carried the torches.  

They placed the bread and the water inside the door, 

and then each of them took two of the torches.  As 

they stood at the entrance to the corridor, they 

resumed a noisy argument which had begun before 

their arrival at the corridor door. 

     "And I still don't see why you have to carry the 

prisoners' meal down here yourself," grumbled one 

guard.  "We're supposed to use them two old thieves 

for that job!" 

     "I do it because I feel sorry for the two old men," 

returned the other.  "They didn't do anything wrong.  

They were hungry, like most of the refugees in the 

city.  They simply needed food." 

     "You got a twisted way of lookin' at things," accused 

the first guard.  "Stealin' is stealin', and it’s wrong 

because it’s wrong, and that's the way the law says!  

You know, it wouldn't hurt you to spend more time 

listenin' to the law being read and learnin' some 

proper attitudes!" 

     "It doesn't really matter what 'attitudes' are being 

proclaimed," objected the second guard, "because the 

Assyrians outside our city walls are not going to strike 

their tents and run home because we all change our 

minds about which 'attitudes' to embrace!  They're 

here to strip the gold from our city and scatter our 

people as far as they can, just like they did up north.  

And if you want my opinion, things don't look any 

better for us than it was for them!" 

     Murmuring to themselves, both guards stomped 

down the corridor, placing their torches in the wall 

brackets.  As they returned, passing outside the cell 

door, Kirk gave Spock a pre-arranged signal. 

     "Insolent fool!  You will come to me when I 

command it!" bellowed Spock in a deep voice. 

     "No!  Let me alone, demon!  Get out of my mind!  I 

don't want to serve you anymore!" cried Kirk, holding 

out his hands as if protecting himself, and cringing 

deep in a corner where he could be seen through the 

window in the cell door. 

     "There is no reprieve!  I have claimed you, and thus, 

you are mine to command forever!" Spock bellowed 

even louder. 

     "Here, here, you two!" shouted the first guard, 

looking in the window and beating on the cell door 

with his club. 

     Putting on his most intense expression of fear, Kirk 

screamed, "Get me out of here!  Another cell!  Just get 

me away from him!" 

     The second guard had joined his partner at the 

window.  "You settle down in there, do you hear?  

You'll have this entire corridor in an uproar!" 

     Kirk let out an ear-piercing scream, and Spock, as 

he had reluctantly agreed to do, rushed toward Kirk's 

corner, roughly grabbed Kirk's shirt, and slapped him 

loudly across his face. 

     "Hey, hold it down over there.  Yeah, get off each 

other, you two - we'd like our supper tonight!" came a 

flood of rebuke from other cells. 

     "Well, what are we gonna do with 'em?" cried the 

first guard in despair. 

     "You get in there and quiet them down," suggested 

the other.  "If we lose control in here they'll throw us 

in with the prisoners, and then our lives won't be 

worth an empty purse!" 

     "Me, get in there?" protested the first guard.  "With 

that demon?" 

     "Yes, get in there, while I quiet the rest of the cells!” 

     Kirk continued to cower and whimper, while Spock 

towered menacingly over him.  Their cell door slowly 

opened.  The first guard stepped cautiously inside 

with his club held tightly in his raised hand.  Spinning 

around, Spock grabbed his elevated arm and twisted it 

behind his back, in the process causing him to drop his 

club before he was thrown toward Kirk.  The second 

guard charged into the cell and was met by Spock who 

efficiently directed his head against the rear stone 

wall of the cell.  As he turned around, Spock saw Kirk 

standing over the unconscious form of his opponent. 

     Pointing to the unconscious guard at Spock's feet, 

Kirk commanded, "Get his knife!" 

     Kirk took the knife from the guard he had felled and 

cut the laces from the man's sandals.  He used them to 

securely bind the man's arms behind him.  Spock 

quickly performed the same procedure on his victim.  

Strips of cloth ripped from the guards' uniforms were 

then stuffed into their mouths to muffle any later cries 

for help.  Then both Kirk and Spock inserted the 

guards’ knives into their belts and cautiously stepped 

into the corridor. 

     While Kirk watched the doorway at the entrance to 

the corridor and emptied the basket of loaves onto the 

floor Spock ran to the end of the corridor and 

collected the four torches.  As he returned with them, 

Kirk took a torch and ran to the cell which housed the 

two elderly men and opened their door. 

     "Your food and water are out here," he said, 

indicating the direction.  "We'll leave you a lighted 

torch.  All we ask for ourselves is a little bit of a head 

start.  After we're gone, you're on your own." 

     Then he rejoined Spock, and they cautiously 

opened the corridor door and stepped into the larger 

outer corridor.  Several doors to the right, the large 

corridor ended abruptly.  The way out lay to the left, 

past a partially open door from which issued sounds 

of a group of men eating and talking. 

     Kirk whispered to Spock, "Walk by the door 

quickly, but not at a run.  They'll see the torchlight, but 

maybe they'll think it’s their friends returning from 

feeding the prisoners." 

     Spock nodded.  Then, using the basket to hide their 

faces, they brazenly strolled past the partly open door.  

Several guards noticed the light of the torches passing 

by, and a few cursory glances were cast belatedly at 

the door, but none of them saw the fleeing figures 

clearly enough to guess that anything was amiss. 

     Once past the roomful of guards, they moved faster, 

finally ducking into a room at the darker other end of 

the corridor.  This room proved to have a window 

which opened to a small courtyard.  Crawling through 

the window, Kirk and Spock discovered a tree 

growing next to the courtyard wall which provided 

easy access to the roof of the prison building.  

Burdened with the large basket and the three lighted 

torches, they managed to climb to the roof without 

dropping anything.  Placing a finger at his lips, Kirk 

lowered himself and placed his ear upon the roof, 

listening for signs that a part of the building below 

them might be occupied.  To his relief, everything was 

quiet. 

     "Captain," whispered Spock. 

     "Yes, Spock?" 

     "I am curious to know if you have given any thought 

as to how we are to escape from this prison 

compound." 

     "Sorry, Spock.  I don't have a set plan.  If signaling 

for a while doesn't produce the desired results, then 

we'll just have to find a way to get outside the walls.  

I'd say the only place we can be sure of finding shelter 

would be Abram's house." 

     Spock stared into the cool night breeze and 

observed, "Ours is a very haphazardly constructed 

plan." 

     "Thank you, Mr. Spock.  I knew you'd approve," 

quipped Kirk as he examined the basket they had 

appropriated.  He discovered that it was woven tightly 

enough to keep light from escaping when the torches 

were placed inside.  Kirk handed the basket to Spock 

who held it up-side-down while Kirk positioned the 

torches. 

     "Have you decided what message you will send?" 

asked Spock. 

     "Yes," Kirk answered, "something simple that 

should be easy to identify with us." 

     Kirk started a repeating sequence of patterns, 

alternately hiding, and then exposing the light of the 

torches for long and short intervals of time. 

Long - short. 

Long - short - long - short. 

Long - short - long - short. 

Short - long - long - long - long. 

Long - long - short - short - short. 

Long - long - long - long - long. 

Short - long - long - long - long. 

                                        *    *    * 

     From the Enterprise's command chair, Lt. 

Commander Montgomery Scott focused his full 

attention on the image of the Romulan warship 

hovering on the viewscreen.  They were in orbit over 

the eastern Mediterranean Sea, the nighttime display 

on the viewscreen showing nothing out of the 

ordinary.  The Romulans were still quiet.  Suspiciously 

quiet, showing no signs of having reactivated their 

warp-drive systems.  They had neither initiated 

communications nor acknowledged hails.  The only 

activity detected by the Enterprise's sensors had been 

infrequent attempts to scan the surface of the planet 

below.  The Enterprise, on the other hand, had 

constantly been scanning the planet, searching for any 

sign of Kirk and Spock, or any Romulans which they 

feared Trelane might have placed on the planet. 

     Except for the successful repairs to the ship, Lt. 

Commander Scott worried that their situation was not 

improving.  The runaway planet, Mars, continued to 

close on the Earth.  Engineers had been trying to 

formulate a way of dealing with the situation, but 

their proposed solutions, by their own admissions, 

were far-fetched and unworkable.  Even worse than 

the engineers' solutions had been a suggestion from 

Ensign Sabat which had sounded like a candidate for 

top prize in the category of creative lunacy.  When he 

had mentioned it, it had gotten a few laughs, but he 

had apparently intended it to be taken seriously.  If 

Kirk and Spock were not soon found, Scott's options 

would be reduced to either attempting to do 

something about the impending collision, or just 

getting safely out of the way.  Whatever course of 

action they would decide to pursue, Scott hoped that 

they could later attempt to return to their own time.  If 

Earth should be destroyed, he wondered what kind of 

altered universe they would discover, and what role 

his crew would be able to play in it.  He also wondered 

what role the nearby Romulans would be playing in 

anything he decided to do. 

     "Mr. Scott, our scanners have detected a peculiar 

light emission from the surface," announced Lt. Uhura, 

breaking Scott's concentration.  "There are definite 

fluctuations in its intensity.  It's almost as if the 

fluctuations fall into a pattern." 

     Let's see it on screen, Lieutenant," ordered Scott. 

     At standard magnification there was no sign of a 

fluctuating light emission.  "Increase magnification, 

Lieutenant," Scott ordered. 

     Uhura stepped through several stronger 

magnification grades before Scott interjected, "Hold it 

there, Lieutenant.  I see what you mean." 

     Guided by information from the sensors, the 

viewscreen display had focused upon a city which the 

display computers had identified as Jerusalem.  

Ringing the city were countless flickering lights which 

appeared to have been the handiwork of a large group 

of armed men camped around the city.  The city itself 

was completely dark, save for one faint intermittently 

flashing light source inside the walls; long durations of 

light, and short. 

     Lt. Sulu, seated beside Ensign Chekov at the 

navigation/helm console, observed, "That reminds me 

of the old earth Morse Code." 

     "I believe you're right, Mr. Sulu," Scott agreed.  

Turning to Uhura, he asked, "Lieutenant, are you 

getting this down?" 

     Already busily scribbling notes into her log entry, 

Uhura affirmed, "Yes, Sir, I am copying this down.  The 

message begins: long-short; an 'N'.  Long-short-long-

short; a 'C'.  Another 'C'.  Now a 'one'.  A 'seven'.  A 

'zero'.  And another 'one'.  Message ends.  Mr. Scott, 

the message spells out our Starfleet registration code, 

NCC-1701!" 

     "I know, Lieutenant!" beamed Scott.  "Who but 

Captain Kirk would think to identify himself like that?"  

From the arm of the command chair Scott opened a 

channel.  "Bridge to security.  Assemble an armed 

security landing party and have them await my final 

instructions in the transporter room.  Also, contact Mr. 

Sabat and Mr. Kramer.  Inform them that they will 

accompany the landing party." 

                                           *    *    * 

     Kirk continued inserting and withdrawing the 

torches from under the basket, doggedly creating the 

message 'NCC1701'.  He and Spock had both agreed to 

'transmit' (it was the closest word they could think of 

for describing the process and purpose for creating 

the message) for approximately an hour before 

attempting the next phase of their escape from the 

prison complex. Trans-mitting for that length of time 

would insure that an orbiting ship would have ample 

opportunity to detect the message - that is, if it was 

inclined to be searching for them.  After an estimated 

fifteen minutes of repeating the message Kirk's arms 

were tired, and he was on the verge of asking Spock to 

trade places for a while.  Suddenly there was activity 

in the courtyard below. 

     "I see it!  Over here!  Up on the roof!" 

     "You two, bring ladders!  One up there - the other 

down there!  Climb up quickly and try to outflank 

whoever's up there!  You, you, and you, climb up this 

tree!  Stop those spies from signaling to the Assyrians!  

Hurry!" 

     Ladders were brought and quickly placed against 

the courtyard's inner walls.  Guards clambered onto 

the roof in three different places, surrounding Kirk 

and Spock, and drawing their swords. 

     Kirk and Spock were quickly disarmed and closely 

watched as they descended a ladder into the 

courtyard.  Once standing on the ground, they were 

securely bound and then hauled unceremoniously 

toward the opposite side of the courtyard.   

     The Enterprise landing party materialized on the 

prison roof next to the spot where Kirk and Spock had 

been only minutes before signaling with the basket 

and torches.  Sabat was holding his cat, Isis, who 

emitted a single loud yowl and leaped off the roof into 

the courtyard and then raced across it toward the 

guards surrounding Kirk and Spock.  Sabat lowered 

himself over the edge of the roof, dropped the rest of 

the way to the ground, and sprinted after Isis. 

     Responding to an obvious and sudden agitation 

among their captors and the familiar sound of a 

transporter beam-down, Spock, though bound, threw 

himself bodily against the nearest guard, smashing 

him to the ground. Kirk, also bound, tackled a guard 

who was now dealing with Isis clawing at his legs. 

Amid this newly roiling mass of confusion the rest of 

the landing party arrived to leave any remaining 

prison guards stunned by their phasers. Kirk and 

Spock were dragged to their feet and their bonds were 

removed and cast aside.  Isis howled and jumped into 

the arms of Sabat.  He spoke into his communicator, 

"Mr. Scott, mission accomplished.  Seven to beam up." 

                        ----  CHAPTER  FORTEEN  ---- 

     Seven sparkling patterns began to form on the 

Enterprise's transporter pads as Lt. Commander Scott 

nervously monitored the reintegration processes.  The 

patterns solidified, and Scott verified that the entire 

landing party had returned, along with, thankfully, 

Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. 

     Kirk was the first person to step down from the 

platform.  He was met by Scott who grabbed his hand 

and pumped it with joyful abandon, all the while 

beaming a wide, relieved smile.  "It's good to have you 

back, Captain," Scott exclaimed, "and you, too, Mr. 

Spock!" 

     "It's good to be back, Scotty," Kirk responded.  

"Now, bring us up to date…" 

     Nostrils flaring, Scott stepped back in disbelief, 

having finally become aware of the disagreeable 

prison odor which still hung around Kirk.  "Before or 

after a change of uniform, Sir?" he inquired. 

     Before Kirk could answer the Enterprise was 

rocked by a shuddering explosion.  The sudden 

lurching of the ship left no one standing in the 

transporter room.  Kirk forced himself back onto his 

feet and was staggering toward the wall intercom 

when Lt. Uhura announced from the bridge, "Mr. Scott, 

report to the bridge immediately!  The ship is under 

Romulan attack!" 

     Having reached the wall, Kirk pressed the intercom 

button with the edge of his fist.  "This is the Captain, 

Lieutenant.  Shields up!  Bring us to red alert and 

defend my ship!  We'll be on the bridge as soon as we 

can." 

     "Shields are up, Sir," Uhura reported.  "I took the 

liberty. ." 

     "Thank you, Lieutenant," interrupted Kirk.  He 

looked for the people in the transporter room.  

Thankfully, none of them were seriously hurt. They 

were all up and moving, Scotty having just bolted out 

the door toward engineering.  "We're on our way," he 

added before leaving the intercom panel. 

     There were no further attacks during the time in 

transit to the bridge.  When the bridge turbolift doors 

opened, Kirk headed for the command chair.  Spock, 

as quickly, slid into his chair at the science station. 

     "Report, Lieutenant.  What happened?" said Kirk to 

Uhura. 

     "It all happened so quickly," said Uhura, her eyes 

darting between Kirk and the empty display on the 

viewscreen.  "Right after your beam-up I finally 

detected warp power readings from the damaged 

Romulan ship.  They must have just finished repairs 

and started charging their weapons.  I tried to raise 

the shields, but we were fired upon before they were 

fully energized.  The Romulans fired two quick shots.  

We’ve lost the use of our photon torpedo launchers, 

phasers, and maneuvering.  Engineering says we'll 

have maneuvering and maybe a photon torpedo 

launcher soon." 

     "Where's the Romulan ship?" Kirk demanded. 

     "After firing on us, it cloaked itself and 

disappeared," Uhura added. 

     Kirk rubbed his hands across his face and 

murmured to himself, "Scotty, give me something to 

work with, before our friends come back to finish the 

job." 

     "Captain," interrupted Uhura, "the Romulan ship is 

beginning to de-cloak ahead of us." 

     The wavering lines of the Romulan warship 

stabilized on the viewscreen before it fired its 

disruptors at the Enterprise.  The viewscreen dimmed 

in anticipation of an impact with the bolts of energy, 

and then they struck the forward shields.  Again the 

ship rocked, and crewmembers grabbed frantically for 

anything that would help keep them on their feet.  

Lighting dimmed as the shields commandeered power 

to dissipate the imparted energy. 

     "Forward shields are down to seventy percent," 

Spock reported. 

     On the viewscreen, the Talon gracefully banked to 

the right and veered off, its cloaking device again 

shrouding it in an invisibility field. 

     "Scotty, can you do something to boost the forward 

shields?" Kirk inquired urgently. 

     "Captain, at the moment I've got all my technicians  

working on something.  You'll have to give me a few 

more minutes." 

     "That may be more time than we'll have.  All speed, 

Mr. Scott," encouraged Kirk. 

     "Captain, the Romulan ship is decloaking astern," 

reported Uhura. 

     "All available power to the rear shields," ordered 

Kirk. 

     The Romulan ship fired its disruptors again.  The 

Enterprise's rear shields held under the punishment. 

     "Captain, Mr. Scott reports that forward shields are 

up to full capacity," reported Spock. 

     "Thank you, Mr. Spock," Kirk acknowledged.  "Give 

me normal power spread to the shield array." 

     "Scott here, Captain.  You've got full maneuvering." 

     "The Romulan ship has de-cloaked above us, 

Captain.  We are locked into all its weapons systems." 

     "Bring us hard to port, Mr. Sulu!" ordered Kirk. 

     Sulu started the Enterprise into a maximum effort 

left turn just as the Talon unleashed another volley of 

disruptor fire which was followed by the launching of 

a cluster of Romulan photon torpedoes.  Sulu's 

reflexes proved a hair quicker than those of the 

Romulan armaments officer as the Romulan disruptor 

fire narrowly missed the outer edge of the 

Enterprise's starboard saucer shield and continued 

downward, slicing effortlessly through the cold upper 

layers of the Earth's atmosphere, dispersing slightly in 

the denser lower altitudes, and finally impacting 

violently on the planet's surface.  Seconds later this 

impact site was additionally pummeled by the cluster 

of photon torpedoes, which had also missed their 

intended target. 

     "There have been Romulan disruptor and photon 

torpedo strikes on the planet's surface," reported 

Spock, confirming what had been displayed on the 

forward viewscreen. 

     Kirk spun the command chair around to face the 

science station.  "Magnify the impact area," he 

ordered. 

     "The Romulan volleys impacted outside the city 

where we were imprisoned, mostly in areas occupied 

by the invading Assyrian forces," related Spock as he 

programmed the viewscreen to display the damage 

below.  The impact areas, displayed in a night vision 

mode, showed widespread damage and the still 

bodies of Assyrian soldiers who had been fatally 

burned where they had stood.  At the moment it was 

not possible to assess the exact extent of damages, but 

Kirk's rough estimates suggested that the number of 

casualties would be high enough to cripple the 

Assyrian force's ability to maintain their siege. 

     "Scott here, Captain.  We have one photon torpedo 

launcher repaired.  We're awaiting your order to 

energize and load." 

     "Well done, Mr. Scott!" enthused Kirk.  Now the 

odds were much less against them.  "Load one photon 

torpedo.  Target it toward something incapacitating, 

but not fatal.  Then stand by for my order to energize 

the automated launch system.  Mr. Sulu, drop all 

shields.  Lt. Uhura, stand by for any incoming 

communications." 

     In seconds the Enterprise was floating alone in 

orbit with its weapons and defenses apparently out of 

commission.  For several minutes nothing happened, 

and then the Romulan warship Talon de-cloaked 

facing the Enterprise. 

     "All Romulan weapons are now locked onto us, 

Captain.  Their shields are also down, and their 

transporter circuits are activated," reported Spock. 

     With his full attention on the viewscreen, Kirk 

calmly said, "Everybody, stand by, and be on the alert 

for boarders." 

     "Captain, we are being hailed by Subcommander 

Tarsus, the ship's acting Commander," said Uhura. 

     "On screen, Lieutenant." 

     "Kirk?  The Federation's famous Captain James 

Kirk?"  Quite pleased with the apparent outcome of his 

first combat command, Subcommander Tarsus 

dominated the viewscreen.  "Why have you not fired 

upon me, Captain Kirk?  Problems with your weapons 

systems, perhaps, as well as with your defensive 

shields?  Are you ready to yield your ship?  My terms 

are quite simple: unconditional surrender." 

     "No, Subcommander Tarsus, I am not yielding my 

ship," said Kirk, "and I have not fired upon you yet 

because I wanted to give you an opportunity to agree 

to a cease-fire.  Unconditionally, of course." 

     Momentarily taken aback by Kirk's offer, Tarsus at 

last managed a nervous laugh.  "A cease-fire?  When I 

have you helpless?" 

     "If I am reading you correctly, you are declining my 

offer," observed Kirk. 

     Tarsus laughed again, this time with more 

conviction.  "Yes, Captain Kirk, I decline your offer, 

because my terms better reflect the balance of power 

between us." 

     "Mr. Scott..." 

     "Aye, Captain." 

     "Mr. Scott, activate your systems." 

     "Systems on line, Captain." 

     "Fire, Mr. Chekov!  Raise the shields, Mr. Sulu." 

     A solitary photon torpedo sped toward the 

Romulan ship, covering the distance in seconds before 

detonating on the Talon's unshielded hull and leaving 

a gaping hole next to an area known to carry control 

circuitry for its propulsion systems. 

     "Damage assessment, Mr. Spock," requested Kirk. 

     "The Romulan ship's propulsion systems are 

inoperable, Captain.  They still maintain full life 

support capability, and for the moment they retain 

sufficient momentum to sustain orbit, however, due to 

several degrees of atmospheric drag, theirs is an orbit 

which will inevitably decay.  Without repairs to their 

propulsion systems, their ship will eventually burn 

and disintegrate in the atmosphere." 

     "Did you hear that, Subcommander Tarsus?" asked 

Kirk of the no longer gloating figure on the 

viewscreen. 

     "Are you going to finish us off, or just watch us die a 

slow death?" asked Tarsus bitterly. 

     "Neither," said Kirk.  "Again I extend an offer of a 

cease-fire between our two ships.  I also offer any 

help, in friendship, that we might be able to provide." 

     "Why, Kirk?" 

     "The fighting between us must stop, and the 

rivalries between our governments must be put 

aside," said Kirk, "because they have no place in this 

time period.  Your ship and mine have been brought 

here by a being who entertains himself by playing war 

games in which we are being used as his live toy 

soldiers." 

     Kirk stopped talking, because Tarsus appeared to 

be in deep thought, possibly thinking seriously about 

what Kirk had said.  He let the Romulan stew on his 

thoughts for several minutes and then decided to 

extend the olive branch another time. 

     "Subcommander Tarsus," he began, "I extend an 

invitation to you.  Beam over to our Enterprise.  We 

will share everything we know about how and why we 

were brought here.  We can work together to devise a 

plan to put an end to this situation and return to our 

own time." 

     "And what of Commander Kohbrah and 

Ambassador Ksariss who were abducted from this 

ship?" asked Tarsus. 

     "We suspect that they are on the surface of the 

planet, not far from where my first officer and I were 

placed," Kirk replied.  "Their retrieval is imperative 

before we attempt to leave." 

     "Who will carry the Ambassador back to our own 

time, if this is, indeed, possible?" asked Tarsus. 

     "If it will guarantee your cooperation, I will agree to your carrying the Ambassador back," offered Kirk. 

     "Thank you, Captain Kirk.  Commander Kohbrah 

has said that it is important to know when your 

opponent is telling the truth.  My instincts say that you 

are, so I shall accept your invitation to visit your 

Enterprise.  There is a great deal to discuss." 

     "We'll be pleased to have you," said Kirk.  "If you 

will relay the necessary coordinates to our Chief 

Engineer, we can beam you over at your convenience." 

     "Thank you, Captain Kirk.  I shall contact your Chief 

Engineer shortly.  I'd like to see our repairs initiated 

first." 

     Good, thought Kirk.  I can use those few minutes to 

do something about this uniform, and maybe work in 

a quick bite or two to eat. 

     Turning the command chair again toward the 

science station he said, "Mr. Spock, we've had a rough 

couple of days down there.  Let's freshen up before 

our guest arrives." 

     As they entered the bridge turbolift, Sulu stood and 

asked, "Sir, shall I arrange for a security detachment in 

the transporter room?" 

     Kirk thought, and then said to Sulu, "I appreciate 

the thought, but perhaps not.  I'm hoping such 

measures won't be needed." 

     Kirk hurried to his quarters and ditched his 

offensive uniform in the recycling chute, and then 

spent a few rejuvenating minutes in the sonic shower.  

Stepping out, he ordered something light from the 

food synthesizer, and was stepping into a clean 

uniform when he heard the warble of the doorbell. 

     Making final adjustments to his shirt, he called, 

"Come in." 

     The door hissed open and admitted Lt. Commander 

Scott.  "Captain," he opened, "I know that you're tired 

and hungry, and that things have piling up on you very 

fast, but I need a few minutes to inform you about 

something important." 

     "I've always got time for something important, 

Scotty," Kirk reassured as he pulled on his boots.  

"What is it?" 

     "It’s about Ensign Sabat, Sir." 

     "Are you having problems with him?" 

     "Oh, no, Sir.  No problems at all.  It’s just that he's.. "  

Scott searched for appropriate words.  "...he's more 

than he seems to be." 

     "In what way, Scotty?" 

     "Well, Sir, you've met him before.. in 1968, when he 

used the name Gary Seven." 

     Kirk stared.  Scott appeared to be wholeheartedly 

sincere.  Well, now that the connection had been 

made, he had to admit that it just could be so.  Sabat 

had looked so very familiar on the bridge. 

     "Did he reveal why he's on the ship?" asked Kirk. 

     "Only to say that he's been sent to 'discourage' the 

occurrence of the collision between Mars and the 

Earth.  The only problem is that he has to accomplish 

it with the resources we have to offer." 

     "Don't sound so depressed, Mr. Scott," Kirk smiled.  

"We have an ally who may just show us some 

interesting ways to utilize the resources we have at 

hand.  I'd like to talk with him, but I'm expecting a 

Romulan visitor shortly, and I'd like you to handle the 

transporter controls." 

     "As you wish, Sir.  I'll go there now and check the 

system over.  One final thing, though.  Our ally wants 

to continue to be addressed as Ensign Sabat." 

     "I'll try to remember that.  Thanks for telling me, 

Scotty.  I'll meet you shortly in the transporter room." 

     A short time later a refreshed Kirk waited in the 

transporter room with Lt. Commander Scott to greet 

Subcommander Tarsus as he stepped off the 

transporter platform.  "On behalf of the United 

Federation of Planets, welcome aboard the Enterprise, 

Subcommander Tarsus," Kirk said as he offered his 

hand.  Directing the Romulan's attention to the man at 

the transporter controls, he said, "This is Lt. 

Commander Montgomery Scott, who handled your 

beaming over." 

     Tarsus and Scott nodded to each other.  Kirk then 

motioned toward the open door of the transporter 

room.  "This way, Subcommander.  We will have our 

discussions in the ship's briefing room." 

     "One moment, Captain Kirk," Tarsus said, obviously 

puzzled.  "There is something which I do not 

understand." 

     "What is that?" asked Kirk. 

     "We are alone," stated Tarsus. 

     "Because no one else was required to beam you 

over," Kirk explained. 

     "No, I mean we are alone in here.  No guards.  No 

armed security." 

     "I didn't feel that was necessary," said Kirk. 

     "I see," said Tarsus as private thoughts churned in 

his mind.  A moment later he smiled, "I thank you for 

your hospitality, Captain." 

     "You're welcome.  We really should move along to 

the briefing room and get on with our business.  Mr. 

Scott, I would appreciate your accompanying us.  If 

there is any assistance we can offer to the Talon, you'll 

be in charge of it." 

     "Aye, Captain," responded Scott as he fell into step 

with Kirk and Tarsus. 

     As they walked to the briefing room they discussed 

what would be needed to repair the battle damage 

suffered by the Talon.  When assured that the Talon’s 

crew could manage its own repairs Scott left for 

engineering. 

     In the briefing room Kirk and Tarsus met Spock, 

and Ensigns Sabat and Kramer, who had been invited 

to attend as special advisors.  Together, Kirk and 

Spock related the account of the Enterprise's first 

meeting with Trelane, his fascination with Earth's 

history, particularly its military history, and their 

assessments of his character and capabilities.  Their 

presentation continued with Spock's theory of how 

Trelane had discovered the writings of Dr. Immanuel 

Velikovsky, and how he could have used a portion of 

those writings as the basis for the situation in which 

both ships were playing a part. 

     "Do you mean the destruction of your planet, along 

with you, Mr. Spock, Commander Kohbrah, and 

Ambassador Ksariss on the planet as it happens is all 

part of some child's game?" asked Tarsus.  "Why have 

Commander Kohbrah and Ambassador Ksariss 

become victims of his revenge?" 

     "At this point we don't have all the answers," 

admitted Kirk, "but I am certain that somehow 

Commander Kohbrah and Ambassador Ksariss have 

been incorporated into Trelane's avenging fantasy.  In 

Trelane's eyes we are no more than insects that he 

traps in a glass jar.  He will shake the jar occasionally 

to stir us up and see what we will do.  I regard him as 

immature enough to impulsively toss our glass jar into 

a fire for the thrill of watching us squirm and suffer." 

     Tarsus smiled.  "The child should take care," he 

said.  "Some insects carry a sting." 

     "So far our 'stings' have had little effect upon the 

child," Spock noted.  His statement had a sobering 

effect on Tarsus. 

     "Where is the child, Trelane, now?" asked Tarsus. 

     "We don't know," Kirk admitted.  "Our last contact 

with him was two days ago.  Although he could 

reappear at any time, I am not willing to sit around 

here on my hands being afraid that he might show up 

again." 

     "And what do you propose to do, Captain Kirk?" 

     "I have a little time left to search for your 

Commander and the Ambassador," said Kirk.  "If I 

cannot find them in that time, I will have to address 

the problem of the planetary collision facing my home 

world.  I understand that some of my people have 

been working up options for that effort." 

     "How will you know where to look for Commander 

Kohbrah and Ambassador Ksariss?" 

     "Spock and I believe that as we were placed in the 

Hebrew camp, your people were placed with the 

Assyrians, who make up the opposing army in this 

military scenario," said Kirk.  "When we evaded your 

weapons fire, it impacted on the surface of the planet 

where the Assyrian army was camped resulting in 

many casualties.  While it is still dark down there, we 

would like to send a landing party down to the impact 

site to search through the casualties.  If they are not 

among the casualties, then it is likely they would be 

with the retreating survivors." 

     Uncomfortably, Tarsus wrestled with something he 

had to ask.  "Captain, are you not angry that I have 

hurt so many people on your planet?" 

     Kirk studied Tarsus for a moment as he prepared 

an answer.  "Let me say that I feel compassion for all 

those who have suffered because of this incident," he 

said, "but in reality, some ancient historical accounts 

relate that an Assyrian army was mysteriously 

destroyed outside the city below at this time in our 

history.  It seems likely that what has happened has 

kept the original time line intact." 

     "Nevertheless, I apologize for having caused their 

suffering," said Tarsus. 

     A moment of silence between Kirk and Tarsus 

reflected a new level of mutual respect and 

understanding. 

     "As I was saying," Kirk said in bringing the 

conversation back on course, "it is imperative that we 

search the impact site before daybreak." 

     "It seems like very long odds against success," 

Tarsus pointed out. 

     "True," Kirk agreed, "but those odds aren't going to 

get any better if we wait.  I am ready to assign 

personnel to the landing party.  Would you care to 

accompany us?" 

     "I would indeed.  Thank you, Captain Kirk." 

                                             *   *   * 

     Kirk, McCoy, Tarsus, Kramer, and Sabat were 

beamed from the Enterprise's transporter room into 

an area of widespread devastation.  Burned bodies, 

charred vegetation, and melted or disfigured 

hardware and weaponry were literally everywhere, 

and columns of smoke still rose from remaining hot 

spots.  Each member of the landing party needed 

several minutes to take in and adjust to the sobering 

sights around them. 

     "Captain," said Ensign Kramer, "if we are going to 

stay and look around, we should get busy.  Daybreak 

will come soon, and when the people in the city see 

there is nothing to fear, they'll come out here.. " 

     "Yes, thank you for pointing that out, Ensign," 

acknowledged Kirk.  "Let's quickly split up, keeping in 

visual contact with each other, and try to find some 

clues to the Romulans' whereabouts." 

     The five members of the landing party fanned out, 

examining bodies and hardware for any sign of a 

Romulan presence.  As Sabat stepped over a human 

form, it groaned.  He stepped back and kneeled beside 

it, discovering that it was an Assyrian soldier, still 

alive, though badly burned over most of his body.  His 

face distorted in pain, he shivered in the cold night air. 

     "Captain, over here!" he called hoarsely to Kirk, 

who was nearby. 

     Kirk hurried to Sabat, who was still kneeling beside 

the dying Assyrian soldier and covering him with 

pieces of unburned cloth which he had sanitized by 

sweeping the fabric with his hand phaser at its lowest 

setting. 

     Kirk pulled his communicator from his belt and 

flipped it open.  "Dr. McCoy, this is Kirk.  Come over 

here right away." 

     McCoy and the rest of the landing party quickly 

gathered around Kirk and Sabat.  McCoy carefully 

lifted the garments covering the Assyrian and 

examined his injuries.  Grave concern covered his face 

as he scanned the man's entire body with his medical 

tricorder. 

     McCoy stood and walked several steps away from 

the dying man.  Kirk joined him to hear his report.  

"The man is in extreme shock," he said to Kirk.  

"Substantial third degree burns, and massive tissue 

destruction.  Most of his internal organs are on the 

verge of shutdown.  It's more a curse than a miracle 

that he's still alive!  All I can do for him is to try to 

make him more comfortable, until. ." 

     "Alright, Bones, do what you can for him," said Kirk, 

"but try to keep him conscious and with us for a little 

while longer.  We'll need to ask him some questions." 

     McCoy prepared a hypo of powerful pain-relieving 

medication, and as he administered it he conceded 

that under the circumstances he was doing all that he 

could for the dying man.  The Assyrian's moaning 

gradually subsided as the medication worked its way 

through his body.  He lay quietly, blinking his eyes, 

trying to understand what was happening to him, and 

staring into a sky tinged with the dark oranges of a 

coming sunrise. 

     Kirk knelt beside him.  "Can you understand me?" 

he asked. 

     The Assyrian's eyes slowly turned from the sky to 

Kirk's face.  He nodded weakly, indicating that he 

understood. 

     "What happened here?" asked Kirk. 

     "Strange lights.. in the sky," the Assyrian gasped.  

Fear and pain returned to his eyes as he relived the 

devastating rain of destruction from above.  

"Suddenly. .great light fell upon us.  There 

was.. fire. .everywhere.  No escape.  I was on fire.  

Running from fire.. into more fire.  At last.. I fell." 

     "Did you see anything after the fires started?" Kirk 

asked, trying to overlook the ghastly expressions on 

the face of the dying Assyrian.  

     "Yes.. the Emperor. .in his chariot.  I heard. .he 

said. .most of his army. .burned and dying.  Must 

leave.. quickly. .before.. people from the city. .discover 

what has happened." 

     "Were there any foreigners with your Emperor?" 

asked Tarsus. 

     The Assyrian looked at Tarsus, puzzled by his 

pointed ears, and noting the difference in skin tone 

between Tarsus and Kirk. 

     Looking toward Kirk, he rasped, "Yes.. there were 

foreigners."  Then he shifted his eyes to Tarsus, and 

attempting to compensate for his increasing difficulty 

in concentrating and speaking, he said, "The 

sorceress.. the bodyguard. .faces like yours.  I. .do not 

know...your people.. or your homeland." 

     "Not many of his people ever travel this far," 

explained Kirk.  "Tell me, where were your Emperor 

and the sorceress planning to go?" 

     After several unsuccessful attempts, the Assyrian 

managed to whisper, "Lachish.. gather. .army.  Flee. .to 

home.  Afraid. .of Hezekiah.. afraid of. .Egyptians." 

     "That should be all we need," said Kirk as he stood.  

"Let's prepare to beam up." 

     Everyone except McCoy slowly stood up and 

shuffled into positions behind Kirk.  McCoy remained 

by the side of the Assyrian, doing nothing, yet finding 

it virtually impossible to leave him alone. 

     Kirk quietly walked to McCoy and kneeled beside 

him.  Carefully placing a hand on McCoy's shoulder, he 

whispered, "Bones, we have to go." 

     "I should stay, Jim.  I can't help him, but.. " 

     "You know we can't risk leaving you behind, 

Bones,” asserted Kirk. 

     McCoy said nothing. 

     "How long yet?" asked Kirk. 

     "Perhaps, sometime before the medication wears 

off," replied McCoy. 

     Kirk looked into the sky, gauging how little of the 

safety and concealment of nighttime was left.  "Bones, 

it’s almost dawn.. " 

     McCoy reached into his medical pouch and 

withdrew a small container.  From it he extracted a 

capsule which he held up for the Assyrian to see.  "Eat 

this if the pain returns," he instructed.  "It will help for 

a while." 

     The Assyrian weakly looked to McCoy and reached 

for his hand, accepting the capsule.  Then his eyes 

glazed and his hand slipped to the ground, the capsule 

rolling into the dirt.  McCoy reverently pulled the 

topmost cover over the Assyrian's head and reached 

over him to retrieve the capsule. 

     "I guess we can't afford to let this lie around," he 

grumbled bitterly.” 

                         ----  CHAPTER  FIFTEEN  ---- 

     The landing party beamed back aboard the 

Enterprise.  As its members stepped down from the 

transporter pads Kirk went to the transporter control 

console and opened a channel to the bridge asking to 

speak with Lt. Uhura. 

     "Yes, Captain," she answered. 

     "Lieutenant, I want you to start scanning the terrain 

between the cities of Jerusalem and Lachish," directed 

Kirk.  "You'll find the latter city about sixty kilometers 

southwest of Jerusalem.  My guess is that the 

surviving Assyrians will try to regroup their 

remaining forces there to plan their next move.  Track, 

and if possible, identify anybody traveling toward 

Lachish, with special emphasis on groups of Assyrian 

military personnel or Romulan life signs." 

     "Aye, Sir," Uhura responded.  "Scanning procedures 

are being initiated." 

     Turning to Tarsus, Kirk said, "I have every 

confidence that we will locate Commander Kobrah 

and Ambassador Ksariss.  My greatest concern is 

retrieving them quickly and with a minimum of 

commotion.  If we cannot find them completely 

isolated and beam them up, it will probably be better 

to wait until dark before going after them." 

     Tarsus grinned.  "That is true. I want to thank you 

for a most enlightening experience, Captain Kirk.  Now 

I must ask that you beam me back to my ship.  I am 

anxious to check on the progress of its repairs." 

     "Of course," said Kirk.  "If there is any way we can 

assist, let us know." 

     With a nod of acknowledgement, Tarsus returned 

to the transporter platform and was beamed to the 

Talon.  Kirk went to his quarters, his mind focusing on 

the mountain of reports which would have to be 

prepared and filed with Starfleet Command if and 

when they were able to return to the galactic order 

they had left behind.  As he walked through the door 

he heard Lt. Uhura summoning him from the bridge. 

     "Yes, Lieutenant?" he responded over the intercom 

before sitting on his bunk. 

     "To bring you up to date, Sir, we are monitoring 

several groups of Assyrian survivors traveling toward 

Lachish.  It appears that scouts or messengers have 

ridden ahead of some of the larger groups.  So far we 

haven't detected any Romulan life signs among the 

survivors." 

     "Thank you, Lieutenant," said Kirk.  "Can you give me some estimate of how large a force the Assyrians 

will have when the survivors arrive at Lachish?" 

     "Yes, Sir," Uhura answered.  "Many of the survivors 

are injured, so they should not significantly 

strengthen the Assyrian force around Lachish. 

Computer projections are that the Assyrians will not 

be able to sustain the current invasion." 

     "In that case, the Assyrians' next move could be a 

retreat along the south side of the Dead Sea.  Have you 

detected any signs of pursuit from Jerusalem," Kirk 

asked. 

     "No, Sir.  Just some small scouting patrols near the 

city.  It looks like the city is being very cautious." 

     "Very good, Lieutenant.  Continue searching for the 

Romulans, and keep me posted." 

     Kirk tried to return his thoughts to reports and 

paperwork, but his mind refused to acknowledge 

anything except how tired he felt.  He couldn't ignore 

his need for sleep indefinitely, but then, Starfleet 

wasn't known for handing out promotions to officers 

who were lax with their paperwork.  Feeling drowsy, 

Kirk lay back on his bunk and laughed at how he had 

forgotten about the promotion he wasn't even sure he 

wanted, and about the rumored time in spacedock for 

the Enterprise, and the inevitable disbursement of the 

fine crew he regarded almost as family.  He judged 

himself slightly crazy for busting a gut to straighten 

out Trelane's mess so he could return to a time line 

which could bring to an end the best years of his 

career.  The sound of the door buzzer kept him from 

dwelling further on these depressing thoughts. 

     Sitting up in his bunk, he said, "Come in." 

     His door opened with a quiet hiss, and Dr. McCoy 

entered his quarters carrying a tray which held food 

on a plate and a bottle. 

     "I brought you a sandwich, Jim," McCoy announced.  

"After what you've been through I'm going to have to 

make sure that you eat properly for a while." 

     Kirk noticed that McCoy had also brought two 

glasses.  "I appreciate the food," he said, rubbing his 

eyes, "but I'm swamped with work.  I'll have to pass 

on the Saurian Brandy, if that's what you have in the 

bottle." 

     "It's not Saurian Brandy," McCoy smiled.  "What I 

have here is something I prepared especially for you.  

Non-alcoholic fruit juices, electrolytes, and a choice 

selection of vitamin supplements.  If its taste matches 

its nutritional value, you're going to love it." 

     McCoy filled the two glasses he had brought as Kirk 

took a bite of the sandwich.  Kirk couldn't identify 

what was between the pieces of bread, but if McCoy 

was pushing nutrition, he figured he wasn't going to 

get out of eating it.  Besides, it didn't taste all that bad. 

     "Good sandwich," Kirk said between bites.  "Did you 

program this from the food synthesizer yourself?" 

     "Actually…, I had a little help from Nurse Chapel," 

McCoy admitted.  "She still understands that fool 

contraption better than I do." 

     Kirk studied McCoy as he took a sip of the 

nutritional cocktail he had brought.  "Tell me, Bones," 

he said, "how are you feeling?  You seemed pretty 

disappointed when we beamed up." 

     "You mean about that Assyrian soldier?  I'm dealing 

with it, Jim.  I guess there really wasn't much I could 

have done for him even if I had brought him up here.  

Let me tell you something; losing a patient never gets 

any easier, no matter how it happens." 

     "I guess not," Kirk agreed before absently taking a 

sip of the nutritional cocktail. 

     "Well, what do you think?" McCoy asked brightly, 

trying to establish a more cheerful atmosphere. 

     "The drink?  Not too bad, actually," Kirk smiled, 

smacking his lips, "but in my expert opinion, it 

needs.. something." 

     "I'll tell you what," McCoy offered, "when we get 

back I'll mix up another batch of this stuff, and then 

we'll go find a little 'something' to put in it." 

     "You're on," said Kirk as he emptied his glass.  "And 

now, if you don't mind, Doctor, I still have my 

paperwork to wade through." 

     McCoy got up to go, taking only his glass of the fruit 

juice cocktail.  "I guess I know when I'm not wanted," 

he quipped.  "But since you've been so cooperative, 

and have eaten your lunch, I'm going to go and enter 

some nice comments in your medical record." 

     "Thanks again for everything, Bones," said Kirk as 

McCoy headed for the door. 

     "There's no need to thank me," said McCoy, turning 

around at the door.  "I didn't have to pick up the check 

for this meal." 

                                          *     *     * 

      Repairs to the Romulan warship Talon had 

progressed well.  By the time the retreating Assyrians 

had reached Lachish, the Talon was again fully 

functional. 

     The ceasefire agreed to by Kirk and Tarsus 

appeared to be holding.  In fact, both crews seemed to 

be much less on edge and working better now that 

maintaining hostilities was no longer a standing order.  

There was a growing cooperation between the two 

ships on the matter of reclaiming the two lost 

Romulans, although many on both ships had quietly 

expressed the opinion that things could quickly 

change once Ksariss and Kohbrah were back on board. 

     Sensors on both the Enterprise and the Talon began 

providing evidence that the entire Assyrian force 

around Lachish was preparing to break camp and 

leave.  In response, Kirk and Tarsus agreed on a plan 

to beam a small landing party into the Assyrian camp 

that night to search for Kohbrah and Ksariss. 

     Kirk desperately needed to rest before leading the 

Enterprise contingent of the landing party.  Satisfied 

with the progress he had been able to make on the 

first drafts of some of his reports, he put them aside 

and stretched out on his bunk.  Before dropping off to 

sleep, his thoughts drifted to unanswered questions 

about Trelane which kept returning to haunt him: 

Where was Trelane?  Why had it been so long since his 

last appearance?  Could he be playing a cat-and-mouse 

game with them, skulking about somewhere, possibly 

posing as members of the crew, waiting to gleefully 

spring out and frustrate any attempts to try to save 

Earth from colliding with Mars, or even prohibiting 

them from later returning to their own time.. ? 

                          *     *     * 

     Night had overtaken the Middle East.  The landing 

parties from both ships - Kirk, Spock, Kramer, Sabat, 

Tarsus and two of his security officers - had beamed 

down together to coordinates inside the Assyrian 

camp.  The two ships' sensor scans, along with 

Kramer's knowledge of Assyrian campaign protocol, 

had indicated where the tents of the Emperor, and 

those of his closest advisors, should have been pitched 

for the night.  A grouping of tents erected late in the 

afternoon had matched the expected configuration 

and had provided the coordinates of a discrete 

location suitable for a beam-down point. 

     Once on the ground they all gathered silently near 

Kramer, waiting for instructions.  He carefully 

examined the layout of the tents around him.  

Everything seemed to be as he had expected, but he 

was surprised that actually standing in the camp gave 

everything a slightly different perspective from 

looking down upon a diagram in a textbook.  Once he 

was certain he had his bearings, he pointed in the 

direction toward which they should head. 

     With their weapons in hand, Kirk and Tarsus led 

the group noiselessly down a deserted avenue 

between the tents.  They passed by a tent with a light 

inside where several hushed voices were engaged in 

an intense argument.  Something in what they were 

saying caught Kirk's attention.  He motioned for 

everyone to stop and listen.  Tarsus gave Kirk a 

questioning look.  Kirk held his finger to his lips, and 

softly crept closer to the tent.  The others also stole 

over to listen. 

     "Our Emperor was at one time a tolerable military 

leader, but this Judean campaign has been little more 

than mistakes and tragedy," lamented one voice. 

     "I personally advised him against this plan," 

boasted a second voice.  "He should have eliminated 

Hezekiah years ago when he first refused to pay 

tribute!" 

     "I doubt he could have beaten Hezekiah even then," 

sarcastically contributed a third voice.  "Sennacherib 

isn't half the military man his father Sargon was!  The 

only reason he has been able to enlarge the empire is 

because the world still fears his father's Assyria!" 

     "We are wasting time!" reminded a fourth voice.  

"For whatever our reasons, we have bonded ourselves 

to an oath to assassinate Sennacherib.  Let it be 

tonight, as we agreed." 

     There was a quiet chorus of agreement from inside 

the tent, and then there was a stirring as the would-be 

assassins donned their robes and collected their 

weapons.  As the members of the landing party 

withdrew into the shadows, the assassins emerged 

from their tent, quickly scanned for onlookers, and 

then stole into the darkness toward the tents of 

Sennacherib. 

     "Are you going to allow this to happen, Kirk?" 

whispered Tarsus. 

     "We are not here to interfere with Assyrian 

politics," said Kirk.  "We are only looking for your 

people." 

     Kramer elbowed his way to Kirk's side and urgently 

objected, "Captain, we can't let this happen!  

Sennacherib cannot die tonight!  His death is recorded 

as happening in his capital city, Nineveh, after this 

campaign, and by assassination at the hands of his 

sons." 

     Then Tarsus stepped in front of Kirk.  "Consider 

this, Captain Kirk," he proposed.  "If Sennacherib 

believes that Ksariss is some kind of sorceress, and if 

she serves as one of his personal advisors, he might 

want to meet with her soon after arriving here.  He 

might want her to determine what his future holds.  

Ksariss and Kohbrah might be with him, but if they 

are not, perhaps he could be persuaded to summon 

them." 

     Kirk reasoned that Kramer's objection to non-

intervention and Tarsus' suppositions constituted 

sufficient cause to keep the Assyrian Emperor alive 

for the time being.  He nodded his assent, and then led 

the landing party to stealthily follow the band of 

assassins, all the while hoping not to be discovered by 

them or any other Assyrian soldiers. 

     Indeed, the Emperor was at that moment meeting 

with his sorceress and her bodyguard in his private 

sleeping chamber.  He was distraught and still in 

shock, overcome by the suddenness and the 

magnitude of the event which had literally obliterated 

his army, dashing any mortal hope of conquering 

Egypt and humiliating Hezekiah for years to come.  He 

fitfully paced back and forth. 

     "I am ruined," he moaned.  Thrusting a quaking 

finger toward Ksariss, he exclaimed, "You did this to 

me, you wretched witch!  Why did you press me 

toward Jerusalem?  What evil did you summon down 

upon my army?" 

     Ksariss had grown tired of the Emperor's ranting 

and whining.  How the nation of Assyria had ever 

achieved its position of ascendancy on the planet 

Earth with people such as Sennacherib to lead it was 

beyond her ability to comprehend.  The Emperor's 

screeching distractions were keeping her from 

thinking about her own problems.  It didn't require an 

eminent scholar to understand that Trelane's quirky 

scheme had all but fallen apart.  And, speaking of 

Trelane, where was the despicable rascal?  The 

obvious answer: unwilling to show himself now that 

he had lost control of whatever had really been going 

on.  He had apparently just vanished.  He had left her 

terminally stranded in a situation with no way out.  

Wrong, she chided herself!  There was always a way 

out.  But to figure it out, she first needed to get control 

of the ranting and very scared Emperor of Assyria. 

     "Please!" she cried.  "Gather your wits about you, 

Your Highness!  A battle has been lost, not an entire 

war!  Nobody is strong enough to hurt you in your 

own land.  We'll go home now, rest, and prepare a 

proper army.  And a better plan.  Forget about Judah.  

We'll make Egypt your next conquest.  Yes, we'll take 

Egypt and cut off trade with Hezekiah.  Then, with no 

foreign trade to replenish his treasury, Hezekiah will 

be forced into submission!" 

     Sennacherib, Emperor of Assyria, gave Ksariss a 

long, abhorrent look.  "Now you say 'attack Egypt'?  

Now you say that I was right?" the now crimson-faced 

emperor screeched a full octave higher.  "Am I such a 

complete fool that you think I would listen to you 

twice?!  Get out of my sight!" 

     Fuming, Ksariss spun around to leave, but suddenly 

stepped back into the chamber.  She had heard faintly 

what had sounded like a struggle and a muffled groan 

of agony from outside.  She drew out a sword, which 

she had appropriated and hidden within the folds of 

her garments. 

     Kohbrah did not understand why Ksariss had 

jumped back in the chamber and had produced a 

sword.  He wondered if she was going to attack the 

Assyrian Emperor to punish him for his insults and 

rebuff.  If this was so, he knew he would have to try to 

stop her.  The very progression of his promising 

career, not to mention his current elevated standing in 

the Romulan military hierarchy could in some way 

depend upon not changing the history of the human's 

planet.  Fortunately, he remembered, the Emperor 

had summoned the two of them secretly to his 

chambers that evening.  He had admitted them 

himself, thus bypassing the usual confiscation of 

weapons by his bodyguards.  Kohbrah still retained 

his sword.  Stepping toward Ksariss, he withdrew it. 

     Four of Sennacherib's senior officers swept into the 

chamber, one of them brandishing a sword stained 

with blood.  Kohbrah and Ksariss together stepped 

back, while Sennacherib looked frantically around for 

something with which to defend himself.  Two of the 

assassins moved menacingly toward Kohbrah and 

Ksariss, while the other two hurried to cut the 

unarmed Sennacherib off from retreat or assistance. 

     The Emperor's own sword lay sheathed beside his 

bed at the feet of Ksariss.  She threw her own weapon 

across the bed to Sennacherib who caught it clumsily 

and engaged his two assailants in a pitiful battle, 

which, if left to his own swordsmanship, he would 

shortly lose.  While Kohbrah defended the two of 

them, Ksariss stooped, groping for the Emperor's 

sword, and finding the hilt, she withdrew the sword 

from its scabbard and assisted Kohbrah as well as she 

could. 

     The Federation and Romulan landing party had 

seen the four assassins draw their swords and enter 

the Emperor's tent.  They heard one of the Emperor's 

bodyguards challenge the assassins for daring to enter 

the Emperor's quarters with drawn weapons, and 

they heard him die defending his Emperor.  As quietly 

as possible, the entire group raced to the Emperor's 

tent. 

     As they passed through the outer entrance, they 

encountered the body of the single loyal bodyguard. 

     "Only one guard," whispered one of the Romulan 

security officers.  "These assassins have friends close 

to the Emperor." 

     Kirk motioned with his hand phaser and led the 

group toward the sounds of clashing swords.  They 

reached the inner chamber and tore the curtain aside.  

The Emperor was quickly losing ground, pressed 

relentlessly back by his two more skilled opponents, 

while on the other side of the chamber, Kohbrah and 

Ksariss seemed to be holding their own against their 

pair of assailants. 

     "Weapons on stun, and aim for the assassins," 

ordered Kirk. 

     Within seconds the four assassins lay immobilized 

on the ground.  The Emperor looked in confused 

disbelief from Kohbrah and Ksariss to the oddly 

dressed group of people who had just thwarted the 

latest, and closest to successful attempt on his life. 

     "Who are you?  What is going on here?  Where are 

my bodyguards?" the Emperor hesitantly demanded 

as he staggered toward Kirk. 

     "Your bodyguard is dead," said Kirk while passing 

an almost imperceptible signal to Spock.  "As for what 

is going on, my guess would be that you have just 

survived an attempted assassination.  As to the 

question of our identity, I can only say that we are 

people who have come to reclaim our own." 

     "I still know not who you are, nor do I understand 

how you have done what you have done, but if you 

will journey with me to Nineveh, my capital city, I will 

handsomely reward you…," suggested Sennacherib. 

     The Emperor had not seen Spock move in behind 

him.  Spock grasped him at the base of his neck, and a 

moment later lowered him unconscious onto his bed. 

     "What do you suggest we do with them, Captain?" 

asked Spock. 

     Kirk thought for a moment, and then said, "It would 

be best if they could all forget what has happened 

tonight." 

     Kirk and Spock looked at each other, 

understanding, neither of them needing to say the 

words 'mind meld'. 

     "I won't order you to do this if you have any 

objections," said Kirk. 

     "I have no objections, Captain," said Spock.  "In fact, 

I am in complete agreement with your solution." 

     Kirk turned to Tarsus.  "Perhaps this would be a 

good time to beam your people back to your ship 

while we tidy things up a little.  Please explain to 

Commander Kobrah what has happened, and convey 

my sincere wish that the cooperation between us will 

continue." 

     "I shall do my best, Captain Kirk," promised Tarsus.  

He then instructed his security officers to stand next 

to Kohbrah and Ksariss before energizing his 

communicator.  "Transporter, beam-up for five." 

     As soon as the effects of the Romulan transporter 

had subsided, Spock established a mind meld with the 

first of the Assyrian assassins and clouded his 

memory of having taken part in the attempted 

assassination.  He then quickly performed the same 

procedure on the other three assassins. 

     Meanwhile, Kirk listened and watched with Sabat 

and Kramer for signs of intruders.  Things remained 

quiet. 

     Kirk glanced back at Spock, asking, "Everything 

going well?" 

     "Very well, Captain.  Only the Emperor remains." 

     Spock placed his hands upon the Emperor's head 

and concentrated on linking with his thoughts.  Again, 

Kirk glanced back to check on Spock and saw a 

puzzled look on his face.  Then, for an instant, Spock's 

face reflected pain, and then, concerned 

understanding. 

     Kirk's attention was diverted from Spock by Ensign 

Kramer who had heard people approaching outside 

the tent.  From the sounds Kirk guessed that a relief 

detachment of bodyguards had discovered their dead 

comrade outside.  Within seconds they would arrive in 

the Emperor's chambers. 

     "Spock, we're getting company," hissed Kirk. 

     Spock laid the Emperor's head on the edge of the 

bed and said, "I have finished, Captain." 

     With the sounds of approaching guards pressing 

him, Kirk spoke into his communicator.  "Scotty, four 

to beam up." 

                                             *     *     * 

     The party of four stepped off the transporter 

platform and dispersed toward their regular duty 

stations.  Kirk and Spock found themselves alone in 

the turbolift to the bridge. 

     "One could almost feel sorry for him," said Spock. 

     "Sorry?" Kirk asked.  "Sorry for whom?" 

     "The Emperor," explained Spock.  "There are many 

frightened and negative facets to his personality." 

     "Oh?" Kirk questioned.     

     "He fears most of all that he will never exceed the 

accomplishments of his father," Spock further 

explained.  "He almost constantly fears for his life; he 

is compulsively apprehensive; he is suspicious of 

everybody; and because he must constantly ignore his 

own desires to please disputing factions of his 

supporters to maintain power, he is angry that he no 

longer controls his own destiny." 

     "Imagine," said Kirk, "wielding that much power, 

and never being fully in control of it." 

     "If this is all so illogical," said Spock, "then why do 

humans crave so greatly the accumulation of power?" 

     The turbolift door had opened onto the bridge.  

Kirk looked into Spock's eyes, wishing he had an 

answer to Spock's last question.  He hadn't, and he 

hadn't time to think of one. 

                         ----  CHAPTER  SIXTEEN  ---- 

     Shocked and enraged, Ksariss charged off the 

transporter platform on the Talon.  Spinning around 

to face Subcommander Tarsus, she flung her arms out 

and shrieked, "What has been going on here during 

my absence?  I cannot believe that I have seen 

members of this crew taking orders from our 

Federation enemies!" 

     Tarsus attempted to explain.  "Ambassador, if you 

will just allow me a little time.. " 

     "Be silent!" she bellowed.  "I know what I saw!  You, 

bowing to the will of James Kirk!  I shall order you into 

the brig, you traitor, along with the scatterbrained 

dolts under you who permitted you to assume 

command!" 

     "Just a moment, Ambassador!" Kohbrah objected.  "I 

trust this officer to command in my absence, and I 

want to hear from him what happened." 

     Astounded, Ksariss froze.  Kohbrah had dared to 

openly challenge her authority!  She slowly drew in a 

breath and held it, grim determination fueling her 

judgment that the time had finally come to strip 

Kohbrah's ship and his career from him. 

     Standing haughty and confident, she turned to face 

the technicians at the transporter control console.  

"Call armed security personnel immediately," she 

ordered, "and have them confine Commander 

Kohbrah and Subcommander Tarsus in the brig!" 

     The shorter of the two men behind the control 

console looked apprehensively at his bulkier 

colleague, as if to draw support, and then snapped to 

attention, stiffly responding, "With all due respect to 

your office, Ambassador Ksariss, I must refuse to obey 

your order." 

     For several long seconds Ksariss listened to the 

dead silence mocking her.  She could sense her most 

secret fear, the emptiness of her authority, being 

exposed, awakening and preparing to assault the 

weights and bonds of repression she had applied 

against it in her long struggle to keep it under control 

and out of her thoughts.  She chastised herself.  Fight 

back!  Turn the situation around! 

     She turned to the larger man.  "You heard my order: 

carry it out!" 

     The second technician also snapped to attention 

and responded, "Sorry, Ambassador.  I stand with my 

shipmate." 

     Ksariss lunged at the smaller technician, slapping 

him fiercely across the side of his face.  She drew back 

her hand, intending to deliver a similar blow to the 

second insubordinate crewman.  As her hand arced 

toward its target, the second technician thrust his 

muscular arm upward and firmly grasped her wrist.  

Ksariss struggled, but her wrist stayed exactly where 

it had been intercepted. 

     "Release the Ambassador," instructed Commander 

Kohbrah. “It is time to put an end to this foolishness.” 

He then turned to face Ambassador Ksariss, standing 

formally at full height before her.  "Ambassador 

Ksariss, you have been little more than a disruptive 

influence to the morale of my crew and to the efficient 

running of this ship since setting foot upon its decks." 

     "Your crew refused to obey my order!" Ksariss 

protested. 

     "Your order?" challenged Kohbrah.  "Madame 

Ambassador, you have given a great many 'orders' 

since you were rescued and brought onto this ship.  

My crew and I have repeatedly been victims of your 

abusive and self-centered 'orders'.  Nothing you have 

initiated from your position of authority on this ship 

has been intended solely for the greater glory of the 

Empire.  You have, instead, only used your position to 

further one or another of your many personal 

vendettas. My dear Ambassador, I formally relieve you 

of your responsibility to command this ship." 

     Kohbrah reached to the control panel and activated 

the intercom.  "This is Commander Kohbrah.  Send a 

detachment of security personnel to the transporter 

area.  Tell them they will confine Ambassador Ksariss 

within her new quarters, a secure cell within our 

brig." 

     Ksariss protested, made threats, and invoked the 

names of powerful acquaintances, all to no avail.  

Kohbrah would not be swayed.  Secretly, he reveled in 

the approving looks on the faces of everyone who 

witnessed her removal. 

     "She has many powerful supporters, Sir," Tarsus 

pointed out as Ksariss and her escort left the area.  

"What will you do about her if we are able to return to 

our own time?" 

     "Neither the Ambassador nor her friends need fear 

that I will try to hide what I have done," said Kohbrah.  

"I also count several influential people among my 

acquaintances.  If we are able to return, I will 

personally request a Fleet Commander's review of my 

actions.  But, enough about the problem of the 

Ambassador.  Let us find a quiet place to talk, 

Subcommander.  I get the feeling there are many 

things you will want to explain to me." 

     Suddenly a light on the control panel caught the 

attention of one of the transporter technicians. 

"Commander, a summons from the bridge." 

     Kohbrah returned to the transporter control 

console and opened the appropriate channel.  "This is 

Commander Kohbrah." 

     "We have an incoming message from the 

Enterprise, Commander, from Captain Kirk." 

     Turning to Tarsus, Kohbrah said, "Your report will 

have to wait until I see what this Federation Captain 

wants.  I give you my word, this will not take long."  

Then reopening the channel to the bridge, he 

responded, "Tell Captain Kirk I will speak with him 

very soon." 

     Several minutes later Kohbrah was comfortably 

seated in his command chair.  Seeing that the 

Commander was ready, the communications officer 

brought the image of Kirk onto the viewscreen. 

     "Yes, Captain Kirk, what do you want?" 

     "We need your help, Commander Kohbrah.  You 

are, no doubt, aware of the situation both our ships 

are in: a time displacement of three thousand years 

into the past, and a planetary collision which 

threatens to destroy the home world of many of my 

crewmembers." 

     Unaware of the degree of cooperation which had 

evolved between the two ships, Kohbrah found the 

concept of cooperating with a Federation ship 

somewhat amusing.  "Why should I help you out of 

this situation, Kirk?  If your home planet is destroyed, 

there will be no meddling humans to annoy the brave 

pioneers who forged our empire.  The prospect of 

eliminating the human problem so easily should 

appeal to any soundly thinking Romulan." 

     "Where would the Empire be if not for the 

inspiration it derived from its competition with us 

humans?" asked Kirk.  "Can you honestly say you 

would have accomplished all you have without our 

influence?" 

     "I know what you're trying to make me say, Kirk," 

smiled Kohbrah, "but the truth is the Empire never 

needed the war with humankind to make it great.  If 

that was all it took, we could have just as easily fought 

with the Klingons." 

     "Alright," said Kirk, trying a different approach, 

"then perhaps you will help us because you owe it to 

your crew as well as to mine.  You'll eventually find 

out that it was a combined effort that found you and 

returned you and the Ambassador to your ship.  If that 

isn't enough, I have something additional to offer in 

exchange for your cooperation." 

     "What could you possibly offer me, Kirk?  My ship is 

easily an equal of yours." 

     "I can offer you the means to return to the life you 

left behind.  Your ship can do it, Commander, but you 

don't know how.  I have that information." 

     Kohbrah saw that most of the bridge crew was 

watching him expectantly.  He could see in their eyes a 

yearning to return home.  It had probably been on 

their minds since discovering the time displacement, 

along with the knowledge that there was no way to 

accomplish it.  Until now.  Kirk had just dangled the 

prospect in front of them.  A Federation Starship 

Captain had offered to help them accomplish the 

impossible, if they would help him accomplish the 

impossible.  Cooperation between the Empire and the 

Federation?  After having been blood enemies for the 

last hundred years?  But wait, Kirk had said something 

about a combined effort.  He and Ksariss had been 

located and rescued by a joint landing party.  Perhaps 

officially the Empire and the Federation were still 

enemies, but that antagonism would not develop for 

another three thousand years.  Maybe it was possible, 

this one time, to put the rules aside. 

     "I will not reject your proposal outright, Captain.  I 

will think about it after I have had time to hear my 

Executive Officer's report.  After that I will give you 

my decision." 

     "Good enough, Commander," said Kirk.  "If you 

accept my proposal of cooperation, I invite you and 

the Ambassador and your engineers to beam over at 

your convenience to plan our course of action." 

     Kohbrah laughed at the prospect of Ksariss 

voluntarily returning to the Enterprise.  Then he 

remembered that he had ordered her thrown into the 

brig.  It doesn't matter how she feels about a visit to 

Kirk's ship, he thought smugly, because I wouldn't let 

her out of her cell to go there if she wanted to. 

     "The Ambassador is indisposed for the time being," 

smiled Kohbrah.  "In fact, I don't see her taking part in 

any major decisions for at least the foreseeable future.  

However, I promise to contact you later with my 

decision." 

     Kohbrah's image flashed off the viewscreen, and in 

the silence which followed, Kirk sat thinking.  He 

remembered hearing that a team of engineers was 

sifting through a portfolio of schemes, attempting to 

come up with some way that a single starship could 

keep two relatively small planets from colliding.  Kirk 

did not envy anyone who had been assigned to that 

team. Surely they had fielded some outlandish and 

bizarre proposals.  But, if he was going to ask the 

Romulans to help solve this problem, he should at 

least have some ideas to present to them. 

     "Mr. Spock," he finally said, "I would like you, Dr. 

McCoy, Mr. Scott, and Ensigns Sabat and Kramer in the 

briefing room in ten minutes.  We have a world to 

save." 

     Aboard the Talon, Commander Kohbrah had sent 

Subcommander Tarsus to his quarters, instructing 

him to order a light meal for both of them.  While 

Tarsus had gone to carry out this simple directive, 

Kohbrah had randomly posed a few questions to 

several of the junior officers at various stations 

around the bridge.  He left the bridge later to join 

Tarsus in his quarters with a pleased smile on his face. 

     He entered Tarsus’ quarters seeing that Tarsus had 

laid out the foods he had ordered on a low table 

between two comfortable chairs.  "I hope this meets 

with your approval, Commander," said Tarsus.  "There 

didn't seem to be any other suitable place.. " 

     "This is fine," Kohbrah smiled.  "Please, sit down 

and have your meal.  I want to hear your report, but 

first, I want to propose that we put aside formalities 

for a while.  The Ambassador is no longer a factor in 

the running of this ship, so you no longer need fear 

her.  And, I promise that no action will be taken 

against you, nor will any reprimand be entered into 

your record for any decision you have made while in 

command of this vessel.  You should know that I have 

asked around for assessments of your performance 

while in command.  Your subordinates have 

unanimously complimented your performance.  As my 

ship is still in one piece, I assume you must have done 

some things right.  So, I want the whole story: the 

facts, and your impressions of what you experienced." 

     "As you wish, Sir," said Tarsus hesitantly as studied 

Kohbrah, searching for reassuring signs that the 

Commander's pledge to overlook his failures and 

mistakes was on the up and up.       Trusting his 

instincts, he picked up a plate and began. 

     "When you and the Ambassador disappeared, we 

discovered that we had completely lost warp power.  

Immediately I put repair crews on the problem, but it 

took a long time to root out all the little things that 

had gone wrong.  As we worked, the Enterprise 

constantly scanned the planet we were orbiting.  The 

Enterprise beamed somebody up from the surface just 

as I received the report that all systems were 

operational.  Not wishing to fall into a tactically 

inferior position, Sir, I gave the order to attack.  

Because of our attack they were immobilized, and we 

were weakening their shields, and then, somehow, 

Kirk got his ship to move, and a salvo of my torpedoes 

and disruptor fire missed him and impacted on the 

planet.  This misfortune inadvertently caused many 

casualties among the group of humans you were with.  

Then, Kirk's ship did something quite unexpected.  It 

stopped and just floated: no shields, and no weapons.  

I closed in, foolishly with the shields lowered, 

preparing to board, and then Kirk hit us with a 

torpedo which completely disabled our our engine 

controls.  It's embarrassing, Sir.  I had him, and Kirk 

still beat me." 

     "Somehow, that does not surprise me," said 

Kohbrah slowly.  "This Kirk is either a very gifted, or a 

very lucky tactician.  Anyway, please continue with 

your report." 

     "Yes, Sir.  Kirk did not gloat or press his advantage.  

Instead he asked for a cease-fire.  Not a surrender, you 

understand, but a cease-fire.  He offered to help repair 

the ship, and he was very concerned about locating 

and rescuing you and the Ambassador.  What most 

convinced me that he was sincere about putting aside 

hostilities was when I beamed over to his ship to 

discuss your retrieval; he had no security personnel 

nearby to infer that I could not be trusted.  

Commander, I sincerely believe that he sees 

cooperation as the best solution to our problems.  To 

insure our cooperation, he has agreed to our taking 

Ambassador Ksariss back to our time in our ship.  

That is, if he really can return us to our own time." 

     "I believe he knows how to do that," said Kohbrah 

quietly, as though confiding something of utmost 

secrecy.  "There are sketchy reports of his Enterprise 

having successfully attempted time travel.  

Unfortunately, the important details are not available.  

Perhaps Kirk is right - we should help each other a 

little in this case.  But remember, in our own time the 

Federation is once more the enemy.  We are still 

bound to return Ambassador Ksariss to Romulus." 

     "Understood, Sir." 

     "Good.  Now, as we finish our meal I want you to go 

through your report again, this time with more 

attention to tiny details.  I need to be more familiar 

with Captain Kirk before I agree to anything when I 

visit him." 

                                            *    *    * 

     "I want to thank you all for being here on such short 

notice," Kirk said to the people he had called to the 

meeting in the briefing room.  "We have the problem 

of a planetary collision to consider, and we'll get to 

that in a minute.  First, however, I'd like to establish 

some idea of what our solar system is supposed to 

look like at this point in the Velikovsky scenario.  It 

might show us what results our efforts have to 

produce.  Mr. Kramer, I believe this is your area of 

expertise." 

     "Well, Sir, at this point, according to Dr. Velikovsky, 

our situation bears very little similarity to his 

scenario.  You see, as Dr. Velikovsky presented things, 

the Assyrian army was destroyed when Mars passed 

through its closest point to Earth, with the exchange in 

orbital momentum deflecting Mars out to the orbit we 

expect it to have.  As things stand now, the Assyrian 

army is destroyed, but the encounter with Mars still 

looms.  To bring everything back into its expected 

sequence, we have to have Mars on its way out to its 

proper orbit.  Now, assuming that we can move it to 

its proper distance from the Sun, we have to also place 

it in its proper orbital position so that zodiac charts 

and all other celestial observations over the next three 

thousand years won't change." 

     "In other words," interrupted Kirk, "it’s going to be very, very difficult to fix this problem properly?" 

     "Virtually impossible, Captain," stated Spock.  "The 

amount of effort needed to place Mars at its proper 

orbital location, at the velocity required to maintain 

its orbit, and in the direction it needs to be moving 

requires many times more energy than our ship is 

capable of generating." 

     "You've thoroughly researched this conclusion?" 

asked Kirk. 

     "Aye, it’s been very carefully researched, Captain," 

said Scott.  "You can well imagine that we've had 

engineers coming out of the cracks in the bulkheads 

with innovative and novel solutions to this problem.  

We've waded through hundreds of unworkable 

schemes. The numbers don't lie, Sir.  They keep telling 

us that we just don't have the power.”   

     "And have there been any other proposals?" asked 

Kirk. 

     After several seconds of silence Sabat spoke.  "Yes 

there have, Captain.  I have a proposal which I have 

been fielding to members of this crew for the last few 

days.  It hasn't exactly met with resounding approval, 

but I think you will find it interesting." 

     "I'm sure we'd all like to hear it, Ensign," said Kirk, his curiosity piqued.  "Would you care to present it to 

us?" 

     "Certainly," Sabat agreed.  "My proposal is to solve 

the problem by attempting to eliminate the cause of 

it." 

     "I assume you are referring to the planet Mars?" 

ventured Kirk. 

     "Yes, Sir," affirmed Sabat.  "In the simplest possible 

terms, I propose that we eliminate the threat to the 

Earth by attempting to blow up Mars." 

     "Now just let’s hold things a minute!" McCoy 

exploded indignantly.  "Blow up Mars?  Assuming that 

somebody figures out how to do it, do you have any 

idea of what will change over the next three thousand 

years?  You're talking about several millennia of 

fascination with a major celestial body.  You're talking 

about cancelling early space program probes, the first 

manned landings, and the establishment of the 

Martian Colonies.  What will happen to all the people 

who live there now if their home passes out of 

existence three thousand years in the past?" 

     "If that were to happen, Doctor," Spock calmly 

explained, "there would be no planet Mars to colonize.  

Therefore, there would be no Martian Colonies, or 

colonists.  Its disappearance would likely result in 

another fable to add to Greco/Roman traditions.  Also, 

the absence of Mars would not completely cripple 

Earth’s Renaissance learning as Galileo would still be 

able to observe the moons of Jupiter, and the space 

program funds expended on the exploration of Mars 

might be allocated to the additional exploitation of 

resources on Earth's, or possibly Jupiter’s moons." 

     "I can see why it's easy for you to write off one of 

our neighboring planets," accused McCoy.  "You don't 

even live here!" 

     "Gentlemen, please!" admonished Kirk.  "Ensign 

Sabat's proposal poses a simple choice: what are we 

willing to sacrifice - an object of fascination and our 

home planet, or just an object of fascination?  It also 

leaves us wondering how we would go about 

eliminating a body half the size of the Earth.  If there 

are no practical solutions for this problem, we'll just 

have to put the proposal aside." 

     Sabat gazed intently into Kirk's eyes and said, 

"Before my proposal is cast aside, Captain, I suggest 

that you make some detailed scans of the body in 

question.  If my assumptions are correct, you will find 

it quite different from the Mars you would expect to 

find." 

     Kirk returned Sabat's gaze, studying him.  Ensign 

Sabat, or Gary Seven, was discretely asking him to rely 

on his command intuition.  Perhaps Sabat knew 

something that he was choosing not to reveal.  

Perhaps there was a clue hidden somewhere, 

somehow on the displaced red planet.  Deciding to 

trust the inclinations of his intuition, Kirk said, "We'll 

recess this meeting for a while.  Mr. Spock, take 

whomever you need and run every scan possible on 

our present planet Mars.  We'll reconvene later, after 

you've assembled and organized your data.  Mister 

Sabat, I'd like a quick word with you before you go." 

     Sabat and Kirk remained in their seats as the other 

crewmen arose and filed out of the briefing room.  

When they were at last alone, Kirk said, "I understand 

that you and your assistant were instrumental in 

saving the lives of Mr. Spock and me.  On behalf of my 

first officer, I'd like to say thanks from both of us." 

     "I had a little help, Captain," smiled Sabat.  "The 

others deserve credit also." 

     "Our gratitude has been duly noted in their 

records," Kirk revealed.  "I thought you should know 

that Lt. Commander Scott has informed me of the 

background check he ran on you." 

     "I hope he didn't uncover anything that would 

weaken your trust in me, Captain." 

     "Not in the least, Ensign.  But I'm curious: is there 

some reason I should give your proposal about the 

planet Mars any special consideration?" 

     "The proposal is the source of the only solution to 

your remaining problems, Captain." 

     "Can't you tell me anything more?" pressed Kirk. 

     "Only that what will have to be done will require 

the resources of both starships," said Sabat. 

     Obviously, Kirk thought, Sabat has revealed all that 

he will for the time being.  "Thank you, Ensign," he 

said as he stood up.  "I suggest that we return to our 

duty stations.  I have to prepare for a visit from my 

Romulan counterpart." 

                                             *    *    * 

     Commander Kohbrah had taken his time before 

informing Kirk on the Enterprise that he had agreed to 

a meeting and was almost ready to beam over.  Not 

that Kirk had seemed to mind, Spock reflected, as he 

and his quickly chosen assistants had needed the time 

to complete the battery of scans which the Captain 

had ordered at the request of Ensign Sabat, or Gary 

Seven.  Kirk had related this bit of information to 

Spock during one of his stops to monitor the progress 

of the scans.  It must have been his human half, 

thought Spock, which had momentarily indulged in 

the emotion of gratitude upon learning of the real 

identity of Ensign Sabat.  It was now possible for him 

to formulate acceptable theories which explained 

several mysterious occurrences on the ship which had 

defied his previous attempts at analysis.  Having put 

these matters to rest, he now was able to focus his 

complete attention on the final steps of translating the 

data from the latest round of scans into useable 

information. 

     Meanwhile in the transporter room Kirk nervously 

paced the floor, anxiously walking off the last few 

minutes before Kohbrah's arrival.  He had seen the 

preliminary results of Spock's planetary scans of 

Trelane's Mars and had persuaded Spock to 

reluctantly attempt to relate some of the raw data to 

Sabat's seemingly far-fetched proposal to blow up the 

planet.  Spock had mentioned several possibilities, and 

had expressed several strong reservations, and then 

Kirk had run Spock's verbal assessments by Lt. 

Commander Scott.  In spite of having agreed with 

most of Spock's reservations, Scott had added a few 

possibilities of his own, but in reality, their 

discussions had produced nothing substantial enough 

to act on without first seeing the final reports.  With 

Commander Kohbrah arriving momentarily, it 

appeared they would all see Spock's completed report 

for the first time in the briefing room. 

     "Prepare yourself, Captain," advised Lt. Commander 

Scott at the transporter controls.  "The Romulan 

Commander is on his way." 

     Scott deftly manipulated the controls to start the 

familiar humming of the transporter.  Seconds later 

the Romulan Commander materialized on the 

Enterprise's transporter platform. 

     Commander Kohbrah looked around from his 

slightly elevated vantage point and saw that 

Subcommander Tarsus had been right - there were no 

security guards.  Obviously Kirk was still trying to 

make a favorable impression, and this was Kirk's first 

bit of salesmanship to convince him to accept the idea 

of cooperation.  No doubt, if Kirk had harbored any 

hostility toward him, he could have easily have 

arranged for the presence of an 'honor guard'.  

Perhaps Kirk was being open, honest, and sincere.  If 

so, these were unexpected facets of humankind's 

personality. 

     Kirk stepped forward.  "Welcome aboard the 

Enterprise, Commander Kohbrah," he said.  "I am 

Captain James Kirk, and at the transporter controls is 

Lt. Commander Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer." 

     "Captain Kirk," Kohbrah acknowledged.  Turning to 

Scott, he said, "Well done, Lieutenant Commander 

Scott.  It was.. a very smooth ride." 

     "Aye," replied Scott.  "You can count on that from 

my transporters." 

     "Such a modest Chief Engineer you have," remarked 

Kohbrah to Kirk. 

     "Yes.  It's a trait we have learned to tolerate," 

returned Kirk with a slight grin toward Scott.  "Will 

anyone else be joining you, Commander?" 

     "Not at this time, Captain Kirk.  Perhaps later, if 

they are needed." 

     "Very well, Commander.  If you'll accompany Lt. 

Commander Scott and me, we'll all go to the briefing 

room and get right to work." 

                                             *    *    * 

     Seated across the conference table from Mr. Spock, 

Commander Kohbrah listened with genuine interest 

to the incredible story which unfolded during his 

briefing.  Captain Kirk began what would become a 

long and involved tale with an account of the 

Enterprise's initial encounter with Squire Trelane.  He 

was followed by Ensign Kramer who explained the 

Velikovsky theories, and how they believed Trelane 

had discovered and used them as a basis for his 

flawed recreation into which the Enterprise and the 

Talon had been placed.  If Kohbrah had just heard the 

Federation crew's presentation without having been 

an active participant in the event, he would have been 

inclined to dismiss the story as so much rubbish.  

However, he had met Trelane, and had felt the flames 

of the child-being's passionate obsession for revenge: 

passionate enough to destroy an entire populated 

world solely for the purpose of tormenting one of its 

spawn.  Kohbrah related some of his experiences 

while posing as a member of the Assyrian force which 

revealed how greatly Trelane's irrational - and 

certainly childish - hatred toward Kirk had grown.  He 

also openly admitted to feeling compassion for the 

inhabitants of Earth, for if there was no way to control 

a being like Trelane, what was there to stop him from 

reappearing with an even grander scheme to punish 

James Kirk and humankind if he chose to do so?  At 

this point Ensign Sabat finally spoke up, reminding 

them all that they were digressing from their planned 

agenda, and that Mr. Spock had been waiting patiently 

to reveal the results of his scans of the planet Mars. 

     "Thank you for that reminder, Ensign," smiled Kirk, 

relieved to have escaped dealing with the possibility 

of a next visit from Trelane.  "We really don't have 

time to dwell heavily on side issues, so, Mr. Spock, 

please bring us back on track if you will." 

     "Thank you, Captain.  A collision between the fourth 

and third planetary bodies in this system is 

inevitable," Spock began.  "None of the data we have 

collected can tell us how this came to be.  The most 

likely theory seems to be that Mars was set onto its 

present heading by some device controlled by Squire 

Trelane, however, we have not been able to locate or 

confirm the existence of such a device.  Therefore, 

since we cannot use whatever initiated this 

potentially catastrophic scenario to end it, we are left 

with devising a terminating strategy which uses 

resources currently available to us." 

     "We have analyzed data from detailed scans of the 

body which threatens Earth.  This data had brought to 

light some unanticipated discoveries.  The body we 

scanned is very much different from the Mars 

depicted in our computer's database.  This miscreant 

Mars has suffered from tremendous heat-inducing 

stresses, possibly from a sudden application of the 

great force necessary to wrench it from its original 

benign orbit and onto its present collision heading.  Its 

entire surface, including its polar regions, is 

volcanically active.  In fact, at its present rate of 

activity, the planet could not possibly stabilize enough 

to allow the manned landings which occurred in the 

twenty-first century.  Its surface shows a constantly 

changing pattern of faults occurring in a very thin, 

ductile crust.  Readings show that only several 

kilometers below the surface lay layers of molten 

material which increase in temperature with depth.  

Given the rate at which subsurface temperatures 

increase with depth, there is a strong possibility that 

plasma pockets exist near the planet's core.  From 

these readings I conclude that the extraordinary 

forces which ejected Mars from its original orbit were 

applied relatively recently, and that the planet has not 

cooled appreciably since that time." 

     "All very interesting," conceded Kohbrah, "but what 

does it all mean?" 

     With only a slight pause, Spock continued, "Simply 

that this Mars, in its present state, is essentially a 

super-heated liquid mass.  Because it is a liquid, its 

component molecules are not as tightly bonded as 

those of a solid, and its high internal temperatures 

further increase the disassociation between its 

molecules.  Of greater interest, however, is this 

possibility of plasma pockets at the core.  Plasma, as 

you know, may be described as a superheated stew of 

disassociated sub-atomic particles.  In this highly 

energized free-particle environment it is much easier 

to induce high-energy reactions which are not 

possible in the three more ordered states of matter.  

Based upon the strong possibility of encountering 

subsurface areas of high temperature and advanced 

states of molecular and atomic disassociation, we 

believe that a sufficiently high-energy reaction 

introduced into one of these plasma areas would 

become self-sustaining, and spread from the core 

region to the outer liquid layers, all the while building 

a compressed front which would eventually break up 

the planet." 

     Kohbrah chuckled quietly and shook his head.  

"Surely you all can appreciate that the power of even 

the most modern starships is limited when you start 

talking about breaking up planets.  Assuming that a 

plasma pocket, if it even exists, would be immobile 

long enough for you to determine its coordinates, how 

would you introduce that much energy into it?" 

     Lt. Commander Scott cleared his throat.  "If you 

don't mind, Mr. Spock, I'll take credit for my half of 

this hare-brained idea." 

     "By all means, please proceed, Mr. Scott," said 

Spock, taking his seat. 

     "I have suggested to Mr. Spock that we use modified 

photon torpedoes to deliver high-energy reactants 

into the planet's core," said Scott.  "Torpedoes with 

reinforced casings have already been experimentally 

utilized in several planetary engineering projects.  In 

order to penetrate the denser outer layers of the 

planet Mars, our torpedo casings would have to be 

similarly reinforced.  Since both Romulan and 

Federation torpedoes use matter/antimatter 

annihilation designs in their warheads, we should 

closely examine our respective designs to determine if 

there are any ways to carry additional magnetically 

shielded containers of antimatter reactant inside the 

torpedo casings to increase the amount of energy 

generated in the plasma pocket." 

     Again Kohbrah chuckled.  "It seems to me that your 

plan assumes availability of the Talon's torpedoes," he 

observed. 

     "Circumstances force us to assume many things, 

Commander Kohbrah," responded Spock.  "It may 

sound to you as though this plan was conceived by 

desperate madmen.  I can assure you that we are not 

mad.  However, a constantly diminishing time factor 

presses us ever closer to the edge of desperation.  

Honesty compels me to acknowledge that there are 

uncontrollable variables which may compromise the 

outcome of the plan.  We anticipate losing several 

torpedoes in trying to penetrate the surface crust.  We 

cannot guarantee that currents in the molten 

substrata will not carry torpedoes off course.  And 

there are many other things which may go wrong.  

Statistically speaking, however, our chances of success 

increase with each torpedo that can be launched." 

     "Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, let us not mince words," 

suggested Kohbrah soberly.  "I have been doing some 

mental calculations, and my numbers do not add up to 

a high chance of succeeding with this venture.  You 

cannot expect me to believe that you endorse this plan 

because you believe it will work for the reasons you 

have presented.  Either you are making a joke at my 

expense, or you are holding back some important 

factor from me.  Which is it?" 

     "My people have not been joking with you, 

Commander," explained Kirk, "but there is a factor 

involved which we have been holding back." 

     "Will you tell me what it is?" asked Kobrah. 

     "I'm sorry," said Kirk, "but I am not at liberty to go 

into it any further.  The reason I'm even considering 

this plan in the first place is based upon a trust I have 

developed in the factor I cannot discuss.  I have been 

given two hard pieces of fact.  One is that to save my 

planet I must attempt to break up the body that will 

soon collide with it.  The second fact is that this 

attempt must be made utilizing the resources of both 

our starships.  I don't know if we'll succeed in 

breaking up that planet, but I am convinced that the 

galaxy cannot be kept the way it was without your 

help, Commander.  This is all about trust.  The 

question is: have we earned yours?" 

     Kohbrah was quiet for what seemed like a very, 

very long time.  He had observed that Romulans and 

Humans could work together.  He remembered that 

Kirk had chosen to spare his ship.  He remembered 

that he had learned from his history tapes how soon 

after his rescue the Assyrian Emperor would be 

assassinated.  What would have happened to Ksariss 

and him if they had been in the company of the 

Emperor when that had taken place?  There had been 

many times when Kirk, as a soundly thinking human, 

could have eliminated some of his Romulan problems, 

if he had wanted to.  The puzzling thing was that he 

had not yielded to that logic.  Trust?  Perhaps Kirk had 

earned a little trust. 

     "Well," Kohbrah finally said, "since there is at least 

a glimmer of a chance your plan could work, we will 

trust in your mysterious factor, Captain Kirk.  Perhaps 

I might offer a suggestion.  Would it be possible to 

phase-lock our disruptors and your phasers to drill 

through the planet's surface crust?" 

     "Aye, it would be possible," said Scott, inspired by 

the suggestion, "and it would leave several more 

torpedoes intact for detonation below the surface." 

     "Wonderful," smiled Kirk, "we're making progress 

already.  Exactly how many torpedoes are we going to 

be able to launch?" 

     Kohbrah calculated for a minute before saying, "Ten 

from the Talon." 

     ". .and fourteen remaining from our own stores," 

added Scott.  "We should still have enough antimatter 

reactant left for safely attempting a return to our own 

time." 

     "About this time travel, Captain Kirk.  My crew is 

very anxious to know how this is possible," said 

Kohbrah. 

     Kirk smiled.  "Mr. Spock is the man you'll want to 

ask later about that.  He can provide you with any help 

and information you'll need.  I can assure you it's an 

experience you won't want to miss.  Mr. Scott, can you 

estimate how long it will be until we have finished 

enhancing those torpedoes?" 

     "It’s going to be a 'round-the-clock job," began 

Scott.  "It’s going to take some time to figure out how 

to properly reinforce the casings, and that antimatter 

is tricky stuff to handle.  With all the extra help we can 

get, and paying close attention to all the necessary 

safety procedures, and a good stiff tailwind, no sooner 

than forty-eight hours." 

     McCoy buried his head in his hands.  Perhaps he 

should have seen it coming: they were going to go 

ahead with Spock's plan.  There were times he 

seriously wondered if, on Sigma Draconis VI, he had 

put Spock's brain correctly back into his head. 

     Kirk turned to Kohbrah.  "Well Commander," he 

said, "shall we put our people to work?" 

     "By all means," responded Kohbrah, rising from the 

table.  "I believe your saying is: The sooner the better." 

                     ----  CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN  ---- 

     Work began on modifying and enhancing the 

Enterprise’s store of photon torpedoes. As there was 

very little he could contribute to the effort, Dr. McCoy 

returned to sick bay to treat a small number of minor 

medical issues which had been waiting there, and to 

check on his remaining patient, Cham Voxul, the 

Captain of the rogue freighter Prinche Gayul.  Exactly 

as McCoy had expected, his injuries appeared to be 

nearly healed, and his vital signs remained steady and 

strong. 

     "Good news, my friend," McCoy said to him as he 

finished his examination, "you're just about well 

enough to be released.  Maybe tomorrow I can 

authorize that, and then Captain Kirk will have to 

figure out what to do with you." 

     "I'm betting he just throws me in the brig," 

responded Captain Voxul sarcastically.  "I've been 

nothing more than a prisoner while I've been here 

anyway." 

     "You probably won't be thrown into the brig," 

commented McCoy as he put away his medical 

scanners.  "It’s more likely you'll be confined to 

quarters." 

     "Still sounds like being a prisoner to me." 

     "You could avoid all this if we knew who you really 

are," explained McCoy.  "Things are a little, shall we 

say, high security on the ship right now, and Captain 

Kirk isn't sure that you can be trusted.  Your name 

hasn’t been found on any database which we can 

access. He thinks that people who conceal their 

identity may have other things to hide." 

     "I told you before, my name isn't important, and it 

was never any of your business in the first place." 

     "You know that sooner or later we will find out who 

you are," McCoy pointed out. 

     "Fat chance of that!" laughed Captain Voxul.  "From 

what I've heard, you're nowhere near the records 

you'd have to look through." 

     "Oh?" McCoy's eyebrows arched, "and just how do 

you know that?" 

     "I hear things.. " 

     "Well, then, I'll have to ask people to speak softer 

when they're around you," said McMoy. 

      "Not only that," continued Captain Voxul, "I've got a 

pretty good idea what all the tension is about out 

there." 

     "Oh you do, do you?" replied McCoy, showing more 

than polite interest. 

     "Absolutely!" returned Captain Voxul.  "You're up to 

something with a bunch of Romulans.  You and those 

Romulans are going to shoot all your photon 

torpedoes at some runaway planet.  You're going to 

try blowing it up.  It isn't any wonder your people are 

tense.  The people running this ship have lost their 

minds!"  As he spoke, a look of aggressive malevolence 

covered his face, and he sat up, shaking his finger 

intently to make the point, "And, Romulans? You can't 

trust them for nothing!" 

     "I think it’s time you laid back down in your bed, 

friend, and forget the snippets of conversation you've 

overheard.  If I hear of one more peep out of you about 

this, I'll have you quieted down with a good dose of 

tranquilizers," McCoy ordered sternly. 

     McCoy went to the outer office and cornered the 

nearest nurse.  "Keep a closer eye on that patient," he 

warned, "and if he gives you any trouble, knock him 

out with the biggest sedative-hypospray we've got 

and call Security." 

     McCoy strode out into the empty corridor to think a 

few things through.  His patient certainly seemed to 

have a reason to dislike Romulans, and it appeared 

that he could get himself worked up enough to do 

something about it.  With the possibility that there 

could be an occasional Romulan aboard the 

Enterprise, at least until Kirk was finished pruning the 

undesirable planets from the solar system, it might be 

wise to have Security keep an eye on Captain Voxul.  

McCoy decided that he would request that, and then 

report his misgivings to Captain Kirk. 

     Lying in his bed, Captain Voxul quietly pulled on a 

chain around his neck, eventually bringing a small 

featureless plastic rectangle out the neck of his shirt.  

He was in no hurry to return home.  He couldn't, 

actually.  If enforcers from the syndicate ever found 

him, they would extract a terrible penalty from him 

for losing the syndicate's shipment of gemstones.  It 

was the Romulans, really, who had all but ended his 

life in the twenty-third century.  He turned the plastic 

rectangle over several times, smiling broadly and 

admiring it with profound reverence.  Then his face 

became very grim, and blueprints of vengeance began 

to pirouette through his mind. 

                                              *    *    * 

     Chief Engineer Scott had been correct.  The entire 

process of preparing the modified torpedoes and 

familiarizing the launch crews with procedural 

revisions had taken the entire forty-eight hours.  

During this time both ships had traveled under 

impulse power to the red planet and had assumed 

stationary orbits over a site where the Enterprise's 

narrow-beam phasers and the Talon's disruptors 

would together cut a targeting hole through the 

planet's thin crust.  After establishing the breech in 

the crust, the twenty-four enhanced torpedoes would 

be launched from both ships toward the core of the 

planet.  Both ships would then swiftly withdraw, for if 

the procedure worked as planned, there would be 

devastating waves of radiation and electromagnetic 

effects. 

     News of the progress of the final preparations 

surged through both ships in great swells, and eddy 

currents of information, offshoots of the main flow, 

worked their ways into all departments. 

     Eventually the information that the Enterprise's 

torpedoes were set for imminent launch flowed into 

sick bay.  A frustrated medical technician complained, 

"They're ready to start the five-minute countdown.  I 

wish we could hear what's going on!  If it wasn't for 

that patient in recovery, Captain Kirk would've piped 

it through the whole ship." 

     "Quiet, Ensign," admonished a supervising 

technician, "or I'll have to put you on report." 

                                           *    *    * 

     With his eyes riveted to the planet on the 

viewscreen, Kirk solemnly said, "Lt. Uhura, open a 

channel to the Talon." 

     "Yes, Captain Kirk?" replied the voice of 

Commander Kohbrah, carried only on audio because 

the viewscreens on both ships were dedicated to 

video monitoring of what would unfold on the planet 

below. 

     With the countdown clock ticking away, Kirk asked, 

"Are you ready to commence, Commander?" 

     "We were waiting for you, Captain Kirk.  After all, it 

is your solar system," quipped Kohbrah. 

     "So it is," agreed Kirk, "but, please, be our guest 

anyway." 

                                             *    *    *           

     "Nurse!  Nurse!!  Gees, what kind of hospital is 

this?" thundered the Prinche Gayul's Captain. 

     A pretty, petite, medical technician scurried into the 

recovery room, quite concerned by the patient's 

sudden outburst.  "Whatever is the matter?" she 

inquired as she approached his bedside. 

     In a veritable instant Captain Voxul's hands were 

clamped around her neck, and he twisted himself up 

and around her, forcing her to lean back across the 

edge of the bed.  "Make one little squeak and I'll crush 

your windpipe," he scowled. 

     Fearfully she nodded her assent.  Voxul then spun 

her around, drawing his crooked arm tightly under 

her chin and pressing forward on the back of her head 

with his other forearm.  "New rules," he smiled 

wickedly, "do what I say or I break your pretty neck." 

     "OK," she managed in a croaking whisper. 

     "Head for the door," Voxul instructed, "and take it 

easy." 

     Clumsily they scuffled toward the door, the 

unexpected sounds attracting the attention of one of 

the security guards assigned to watch Captain Voxul.  

The guard froze for an instant, and then reacted by 

drawing his phaser and calling to a second security 

guard who also brought up his phaser. 

     "I want both of those hand phasers sliding across 

the floor toward the lady's feet.  NOW!" ordered 

Captain Voxul. 

     Seeing the terror in the med technician's eyes, both 

security guards complied. 

     "Good," smiled Captain Voxul.  Then he said to his 

hostage, "Now, sweetheart, we're going to bend down, 

slowly, and you are going to pick up both those 

weapons by anything but the handles and hold them 

very delicately out in front of you." 

     Carefully, the two lowered themselves toward the 

floor with Captain Voxul maintaining a constant 

pressure against her neck.  The med technician 

awkwardly groped for the weapons, and when she 

found them she cautiously turned them so that when 

she picked them up, she would not be holding them by 

anything that could cause one to discharge. 

     Slowly Captain Voxul drew his hostage back to her 

feet as she held the two phasers as far in front of 

herself as she could manage.  "Very good," 

complimented Voxul.  "Now, I'm going to take my 

right hand away from your head so that you can 

slowly hand me the phaser in your right hand.  No 

tricks now, because I know a couple of ways to snap a 

neck with one arm as efficiently as with two." 

     Slowly she brought the right hand phaser over her 

shoulder, holding it lightly up-side-down.  Captain 

Voxul took it, checked its setting, and pressed it 

against the back of her head.  "Alright," smiled Captain 

Voxul, "now the one in your left hand, to your right 

hand, and back to me just like the first one." 

     When the second weapon was being passed over 

the hostage's right shoulder, Captain Voxul inserted 

the first one into his belt and accepted the one he was 

being given.  He relaxed his hold on his hostage's neck, 

but did not release her. 

     "You're staying with me for a while," he whispered 

into her ear.  Then, waving the phaser toward the 

door of the recovery room, he instructed, "Everybody 

else, in there." 

     When everyone in the outer office had filed into the 

recovery room, Captain Voxul ordered, "One of you 

onto each of these beds." 

     As the new hostages were complying with the 

Voxul's latest instructions, he whispered into the med 

technician's ear, "OK, sweetheart, you're the nurse.  I 

want each of these patients restrained, real tight.  If I 

don't see pain on their faces when you pull those belts 

tight, you're in big trouble!" 

     Apprehensively she approached the first bed and 

began applying the bed's restraints to the security 

guard lying on it.  Several times she apologized for 

overtightening, but she was forbidden by Voxul to 

adjust anything once it was fastened.  In ten minutes 

she had secured the last hostage.  Captain Voxul then 

swung his left arm around her neck and steered her 

toward the main sick bay door, explaining, "Now,   

we're just going for a little walk." 

                                               *    *    *           

     Kohbrah's eyes were fixed upon his viewscreen as 

he said, "Give me a final system's report." 

     "All readouts are within acceptable parameters, 

Commander." 

     "Excellent.  What does the telemetry from the 

Enterprise look like?" 

     "There are no problems from the Enterprise, 

Commander." 

     "Then we are ready for the first phase," affirmed 

Kohbrah.  "Attention, both ships.  Phasers and 

disruptors, commence firing." 

     Romulan disruptors and the Enterprise's narrow-

beam phasers unleashed their combined energies 

onto the selected spot on the planet's surface.  Within 

a matter of seconds a seething pool of molten crust 

had appeared around the target area, and the 

Starships' energy beams continued boring into the 

planet.  Many minutes passed as engineering teams on 

the Enterprise and the Talon monitored the progress 

of the drilling while other technicians nervously 

watched indicators of the performance of the 

weapons systems which were providing output in 

excess of their design expectations. 

     "We have successfully penetrated the planet's 

crust," announced Spock. 

     "We're through the crust," repeated Kirk for the 

benefit of Kohbrah and his crew.  "Cease firing phasers 

and disruptors,"  

     When the viewscreen showed that the preliminary 

bombardment phase had been terminated, Kirk 

ordered, "Prepare to fire, Mr. Chekov." 

     "Ready, Sir." 

     "Mr. Chekov, fire torpedo number one." 

     A bright sparkle of light from the torpedo's 

propulsion jets receded from the Enterprise, homing 

in perfectly on the boiling breech in the planet's crust.  

It was followed by the first torpedo from the Talon. 

     "Mr. Chekov, fire number two.  Fire number three. ." 

     As Kirk's firing orders were matched by alternating 

launches from the Talon, twenty torpedoes - ten from 

each ship - headed for the planet.  These twenty were 

followed by the remaining four torpedoes launched 

solely from the Enterprise.  From their collective 

observation points, the receding lights were well on 

their way to merging into a single line, forming a 

sparkling lance which would hopefully pierce into the 

heart of the planet. 

     Unexpectedly the turbolift doors hissed open, and 

the Captain of the Prinche Gayul burst onto the bridge 

with a phaser in one hand and a terrified female med 

technician restrained by his other arm around her 

neck. 

     Captain Gayul quickly leveled his phaser at Spock 

and ordered, "You - Vulcan!  Away from that station!" 

     "Do it, Spock," Kirk quietly added, "that phaser is 

set to kill." 

     Spock edged away from the science station as 

Gayul's phaser continued motioning him farther back.  

As he was moving Kirk asked, "What do you want on 

my bridge?" 

     Turning to Kirk, Captain Gayul smiled and replied, 

"Justice - my way, Captain Kirk.  I intend to even a 

score." 

     Captain Gayul pulled his hostage along the ring of 

stations until he was able to throw her into Spock's 

chair.  He reached into the neck of his shirt and 

withdrew the plastic rectangle, removed it from its 

clasp, and inserted it into the tape port of the science 

station computer.  As he was doing this, Spock was 

able to subtly edge a step closer to him. 

     Hoping to give Spock as much help as possible, Kirk 

drew Captain Gayul's attention to himself.  "Just what 

do you think you're doing to my science computer?" 

he demanded. 

     "He's using a “cheater”, Captain," said Lt. 

Commander Scott from his engineering station to the 

right of the turbolift.  "It’s probably got magnetic pulse 

interfacing.  It'll figure out how to communicate with 

our computers and bypass security lockouts, giving 

him access to most of the systems." 

     "Hasn't this technology been discouraged by nearly 

every culture that uses computers?" asked Kirk. 

     "Aye, it has," Scott agreed as Spock moved another 

step closer to his station, "but that usually means only 

the bad guys have them." 

     During Kirk and Scott's exchange Captain Gayul had 

been entering information and commands to the 

bridge computers through Spock's science station 

terminal.  He had completely ignored everything 

which had been said, and apparently had not noticed 

Spock's slow progress back toward him. 

     Suddenly Captain Gayul thrust an arm into the air 

and triumphantly proclaimed, "Aha, success!"  Spock 

froze, apparently still not perceived as a threat.  As 

Captain Gayul looked at Kirk, his smug grin very much 

resembled the look of a terran housecat that had just 

gorged itself on a member of its favorite avian species. 

     "I'd like you to know, Captain," he bragged to Kirk, 

"that I have been a very busy person during my 

convalescence.  Thanks to my cheater, as you call it, I 

have managed to look into the darkest corners of your 

computer memory banks, and I have diligently kept 

abreast of the development of this little adventure of 

yours.  Thanks to your Romulan friends destroying my 

ship and its cargo I'm virtually a dead man if I ever 

return home, so you can see they owe me some 

restitution.  I have just fed into the computers the 

programming access codes of one of your photon 

torpedoes, along with its new target.  You see, after 

reading your Starfleet assessments of the latest 

Romulan warships, I discovered a potential weakness 

in their shielding.  Thanks to these hotted up 

torpedoes you’ve built I can now cripple that Romulan 

ship enough that it'll never stand up to a time trip 

home!  I have just taken control of one of your last 

photon torpedoes and have targeted it on that 

Romulan warship!" 

     Kirk looked to Spock, demanding, "Can you still 

send its destruct code from your station?" 

     "Not so fast!" shouted Captain Gayul, raising his 

hand phaser toward Spock.  "There'll be no destruct 

codes sent from this station!" 

     The sound of running footsteps behind him 

distracted Gayul.  He turned in time to see Lt. 

Commander Scott sprint into the turbolift and close 

the doors.  As the turbolift began to descend the Gayul 

fired at the doors, charring their surface and sending a 

shower of glowing sparks across the stations on the 

left side of the bridge.  Cursing, he spun around to 

check on Spock who was beginning a lunge at him.  He 

fired his phaser, the beam striking the curved upper 

level railing and sending more sparks throughout the 

bridge. 

     Spock reeled around to his right, holding his right 

hand which had been on the railing behind where the 

phaser beam had struck.  When he stopped, he was 

leaning against the wall between two station consoles. 

     "Get over here Vulcan," growled Captain Gayul 

angrily, "and shut down power to that turbolift!" 

     "That will take some time.. " Spock distinctly said. 

     He's stalling for time, Kirk thought to himself. 

     Captain Gayul screamed and fired his phaser into 

the floor thrice, causing Spock to throw his arms up to 

protect his eyes.  "Don't explain it - just do it!!" he 

screamed at Spock. 

     "As you wish.  I shall endeavor to comply with your 

requests," Spock conceded.  He walked to the science 

station chair and said to the med technician still 

sitting there, "Would you excuse me, Ensign?" 

     She stood and watched as Spock carefully cut 

power to the bridge turbolift, which had long before 

stopped its descent. 

     Spock started to turn his head but was stopped by 

the barrel of the freighter Captain's hand phaser.  "I 

ought to ventilate your fool head!" he threatened.  "A 

little fresh air in there might make it work faster!" 

     "Captain, on the main viewscreen," called Sulu from 

his forward station. 

     Kirk and everyone else turned to watch the forward 

viewscreen which now showed the receding Romulan 

warship Talon, which had been withdrawing from its 

firing position near Mars as soon as it had launched its 

last torpedo.  Closing in on it was a sparkling point of 

light – Captain Gayul's reprogrammed photon 

torpedo. 

     "Warn them.. " shouted Kirk. 

     The sounds of a desperate struggle near the science 

station drew his attention there.  Captain Gayul, the 

medical technician and Spock presented a jumbled 

mass of limbs as they grappled, and the security 

personnel already on duty on the bridge rushed to 

assist.  Kirk returned to the drama on the viewscreen 

in time to see a blinding explosion occur behind the 

Talon.  He turned back toward the science station to 

see that Captain Gayul was incapacitatingly 

restrained. 

     As he looked more closely around the battered 

bridge, Kirk felt that something, or someone, 

important was missing.  "Where is Mr. Scott?" he 

demanded. 

     In answer to his question, the turbolift came to life, 

ascending toward the main bridge.  When the doors 

opened, Lt. Commander Scott emerged. 

     "Explain yourself, Mr. Scott!" ordered Kirk. 

     "I went to the auxiliary bridge, Sir, and sent the 

destruct order to that runaway torpedo!" responded 

Scott as if to imply there was no logical reason Captain 

Kirk should be upset with him. 

     "Kirk!" boomed the voice of Kohbrah on the main 

viewscreen.  "What is the meaning of that torpedo 

exploding behind my ship?" 

     "Uh, there was.. a malfunction, Commander," Kirk 

stammered as he improvised.  "We had to destroy it." 

     "You certainly took your time!" Kohbrah scolded.  "I 

should think you would have been more careful." 

     "I intend to be much more careful, Commander," 

replied Kirk.  "Please accept my apologies." 

     "Apologize later, Kirk.  Get moving before that 

exploding planet beats you out here!" 

     "Take us out of here, Mr. Sulu.  Full impulse!" 

ordered Kirk.  "Mr. Chekov, take the science station.  

Pay close attention to the sensors.  I want to know 

what's going on down there." 

     As they raced away from the red planet, Chekov 

returned the viewscreen display to the planet's target 

site and reported, "All remaining torpedoes have 

detonated below the surface, Captain." 

     "Have we achieved the chain reaction?" demanded 

Kirk. 

     "Impossible to tell yet," answered Chekov.  "I read 

increased tectonic activity, most likely a result of 

detonation shock waves.  There is a measurable 

increase in heat generated.  The effect seems to be 

spreading." 

     A chorus of cheers swept around the bridge which 

was reinforced by other cheers heard on ship-wide 

intercom.  Kirk watched the viewscreen intently, 

suddenly aware that he was fiercely gripping the back 

of his command chair, virtually reaching out with the 

force of his will to make the crazy long-shot scheme 

work. 

     The bright molten area around the torpedo target 

site grew wider, while the colors of the boiling lava 

soup changed from dark reds and blacks to more 

resplendent hues.  The effect continued to spread, 

accelerating, and then, mysteriously, not quite so 

rapidly. 

     Long additional seconds passed, until eventually 

the expansion stopped.  The surface, at first slowly, 

then at an increasing rate, began to darken. 

     "Mr. Chekov, what's going on?" demanded Kirk, 

desperately searching his memory for some quick 

action to keep what they had achieved from gushing 

down the sewer. 

     "The reaction area is cooling, Sir.  The anticipated 

chain reaction...did not initialize." 

     The euphoria of moments past had been replaced 

by shock and silence.  Kirk left the command chair, 

and looking over his shoulder at the viewscreen, made 

his way to the science station.  There he examined the 

instruments. 

     "What. .happened?" he quietly asked. 

     Spock, who had been standing near the turbolift 

nursing his injured hand, returned to the science 

station, attempting to help analyze the data which had 

been recorded. 

     "Captain Kirk. .?" 

     Kirk turned around to see Commander Kohbrah on 

the viewscreen.  "Captain Kirk, please accept our 

regrets.  It was a most commendable effort." 

     Suddenly, below the forward viewscreen stood 

Trelane, sporting a delighted smile, and arrayed in the 

frilly formal attire of a late eighteenth-century French 

aristocrat.  He was as he had first appeared on Gothos 

- the consummate Squire at leisure. 

     "Why, there you are, Captain Kirk.  Et mon Dieu!  

What have you been trying to do?" 

                       ----  CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN ---- 

     Trelane strutted pretentiously around the bridge, 

delighted with the enticing discoveries he was 

making.  He closely examined the forward viewscreen 

display.  With great, broadly feigned concern he 

scrutinized the readings and settings at the navigation 

and helm console.  On his way to the science station he 

stopped and examined the phaser damage to the 

safety railing, clicking his tongue reproachfully as he 

glanced at Kirk.  At the science station he peered 

quietly at Spock's work.  Chekov angrily glanced 

askance at Kirk, while Spock impassively continued 

his investigations.  Trelane finally paid a visit to 

Uhura's communications station.  He playfully tickled 

her under her chin, and she smartly pushed his hand 

away. 

     Again delighted, Trelane sought out Kirk and 

remarked, "She is truly an outstanding gem among the 

Nubian treasures, Captain.  So pretty, and so spirited!" 

     Kirk quickly interposed himself between Trelane 

and Uhura.  "Trelane, you are bothering my crew 

members.  Leave my ship!" he ordered. 

     "You have been a naughty boy, Captain Kirk," 

smiled Trelane, descending into the command well 

and standing beside Kirk's chair.  "You still try to 

change the rules to my games.  When will you learn 

that rules are my job?  Your job is to play out your 

assigned part." 

     "You mean all we have to do is perform on your 

stage, solely for your amusement?" objected Kirk.  

"Sorry, Trelane, there's more to it than that.  As 

sentient beings we have rights.. " 

     "You have only what I allow you to have, Captain 

Kirk.  I outrank you.  I am your superior officer." 

     "You are no Starfleet officer, and you do not 

outrank me!" 

     "Touché, a point well taken, my Captain," observed 

Trelane, flippantly emphasizing the point with an 

index finger, "but you cannot dispute that I am still 

your superior!" 

     The opening of the bridge turbolift doors 

interrupted Trelane’s pontificating, and he stood, jaw 

agape, as a sleek black cat trotted briskly onto the 

bridge and began in a most endearing and beguiling 

manner to rub itself against Trelane’s ankles. The 

novel experience initially delighted Trelane, until he 

began to sneeze. With increasing frequency and 

ferocity the sneezing overwhelmed him, and it became 

all that he could do.  He tried in vain to distance 

himself from the creature, but its footwork and 

persistence proved superior. 

     With everyone's attention focused on Trelane and 

his feline vexation, no one noticed the quiet 

appearance of the white orb over the turbolift doors.  

While Trelane and the cat had raced about the bridge, 

it had traveled aloft, eventually hovering over Trelane. 

     A deep, feminine voice emanating from the orb 

gently spoke to Trelane.  "Where have you been, 

Trelane?" 

     Trelane froze.  His eyes darted from side to side, 

and then upward. Meanwhile, the black cat slinked 

back into the turbolift. 

     "Mother?" he questioned in a tiny voice. 

     "Yes, Trelane.  I have been looking for you again.  I 

have called for you several times.  Why did you not 

respond?" 

     Trelane bent precariously backward, facing upward 

at the Mother orb.  "I had this really fine game 

underway, Mother," he explained with nervous 

enthusiasm.  "I guess I didn't hear you because of all 

the noise we were making. ?." 

     "Yes," the Mother orb agreed, "So much noise.  It 

seems I can always find you at the source of your 

greatest volumes of noise.  Just what sort of game 

have you invented this time, Trelane?" 

      "For a while…” said Trelane, “… I think it was sort 

of a war game simulation…?" As he had spoken, 

Trelane's voice had risen in pitch, posing an innocent-

sounding possibility he had fervently hoped his 

mother would go along with. 

     "Trelane, you know that what you are doing here is 

very much against your father's and my wishes!  This 

activity is much more involved than a simulation.  In 

violation of your standing restrictions you are again 

using live creatures in your games, and you have been 

explicitly forbidden to ever again bother The Kirk and 

its Enterprise." 

     On the verge of tears, Trelane became furious with 

the Mother orb.  "You're ruining things again!" he 

screamed.  Hammering with clenched fists and 

stomping his foot for emphasis he added, "You're 

always spoiling my fun!  Always, always, always!" 

     The Mother orb descended from the ceiling, 

hovering before Kirk.  When it spoke it was quite 

frustrated.  "I apologize for my son, Captain Kirk.  It 

appears that raising a child will never become easier." 

     "I appreciate your apology," said Kirk 

diplomatically, but he added earnestly, "however, an 

apology alone won't repair the damage and harm that 

will be inflicted when those two planets collide." 

     "Are the two planets important to you?" inquired 

the Mother orb. 

     "Yes, because most of my crew will begin their lives 

on them in about three thousand years," Kirk 

explained. 

     The Mother orb moved briskly back toward Trelane 

and hovered imposingly over him.  "Trelane, what else 

have you done besides forcing these creatures to 

participate in your 'games'?" it demanded. “It now 

seems that you have also unnaturally disrupted the 

stability of a life-bearing star system!” 

     As Trelane stammered incoherently, the turbolift 

doors again opened and Ensign Sabat stepped out, no 

longer dressed in his Starfleet uniform, but in a black, 

formal suit, fastened at the neck and showing razor-

sharp creases in the coat sleeves and trouser legs.  The 

only apparent embellishment on the garment was a 

tiny golden laid-over figure eight, and infinity symbol, 

Kirk realized, which was fastened to the apex of the 

left lapel on the small collar. 

     "Excuse me, but perhaps we could best explain the 

problem," offered Sabat. 

     A slender woman, with long, silky black hair and 

wearing a full-length, sheer black gown, stepped out 

of the turbolift and stood with Sabat.  A small golden 

pin, an exact duplicate of the one worn by Sabat, was 

fastened to her garment's left breast. 

     "Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, you remember my 

associate, Isis?" said Sabat by way of introduction. 

     The Mother orb now hovered before Isis and Sabat.  

"I am familiar with the function of those whom you 

represent.  Please, tell me, what exactly has my son 

done?" 

     "Captain Kirk," asked Sabat, "may we borrow your 

briefing room for a short time?  I am sure that once 

the facts have been presented to the parent, we will be 

able to bring everything back under control." 

     "The briefing room is yours to use," said Kirk.  "Will 

you require anything else?" 

     "No, we just need a quiet place to talk to Trelane 

and his parent," said Sabat.  "When we find out how he 

caused all these events to occur, we may be able to 

affect a 'seamless repair' to the stretched fabric of 

time." 

     As if reacting to a cue, Isis entered the turbolift.  She 

was followed closely by the Mother orb.  Sabat went to 

the turbolift and stood in the open door, waiting, 

watching Trelane along with Isis as if the next 

important move was his. 

     Kirk slid behind Trelane and leaned forward to 

whisper in his ear, "I believe they are waiting for you." 

     Trelane rewarded Kirk's unsolicited insight with an 

intense icy glare.  Then, composing himself, he 

resumed his role of nobleman Squire Trelane.  

Clasping his hands behind his back, and standing 

proudly erect, he walked pontifically to the turbolift 

and joined those who waited for him.  The doors 

closed, and the turbolift departed for a lower deck.  

Silence held the bridge for a moment, then Uhura 

noticed that the Talon had been attempting to contact 

the Enterprise.  She channeled everything to the 

viewscreen. 

     "Captain Kirk," implored the weary face of 

Commander Kohbrah, "I have been trying for the last 

ten minutes to raise you.  What so occupies you over 

there?" 

     Somberly, Kirk responded to Kohbrah , ” Things 

have just… taken a turn for the better, Commander 

Kohbrah.” 

                                            *     *     * 

     An hour later Sabat and Isis, as the black cat, 

returned to the bridge.  "I need another favor, Captain 

Kirk," said Sabat. 

     "Just name it," replied Kirk. 

     "The use of your transporter for one last time," 

Sabat explained.  "Trelane revealed where he has 

hidden the devices he used to create this miscarriage 

of history.  It seems that everything he has done can 

still be set right.  Isis and I will see to that.  All of you 

and the Romulans can be returned to your own time.  

We recommend that this be done as soon as possible." 

     "I remember getting quite a headache from the last 

trip I took under the influence of those devices," Kirk 

related. 

     "That was caused by misusing one of Trelane's 

devices for concurrent time and spacial 

displacements.  The device is not at its best in 

attempting both together.  If we displace you through 

time and limit your spacial displacement, you will 

arrive at approximately these same coordinates in 

your twenty-third century with no ill effects." 

     "It sounds easy enough," said Kirk.  "What will you 

require from our transporter?" 

     "I will program it with the location of the devices," 

said Sabat.  "This information will be erased from your 

computers upon our safe arrival at our destination.  

Then Isis and I will use the devices to repair the time 

damage and send you home." 

     "What will happen to Trelane?" Kirk asked. 

     "That matter is out of your hands," replied Sabat, 

"although I have been assured that much more 

intensive monitoring and other corrective measures 

are in store.  There was also a mention of possibly an 

extra-familiar counselor, or mentor… but I drift away 

from things I must yet accomplish.   I need to go to the 

transporter room now, and you should advise both 

your ships to prepare for the return to your own 

time." 

     “There is one last thing that bothers me,” said Kirk. 

“This wild plan of yours to blow up our errant planet, 

was it ever supposed to work? 

     “I think it served its purpose very well, don’t you?” 

responded Sabat. 

     Kirk smiled.  "Thanks for everything, Ensign," he 

said, offering his hand. 

     "My pleasure, Admiral," Sabat smiled as he clasped 

Kirk's hand. 

     Sabat entered the turbolift and waited as Isis 

gracefully followed after him.  The door closed, and 

then they were gone. 

     A moment later Kirk said to Uhura, "Get me 

Commander Kohbrah on the Talon." 

     After a short pause Kohbrah appeared on the 

viewscreen.  "Have you decided to dole out another 

item of news, Captain Kirk?" 

     "The one you have been waiting for," smiled Kirk.  

"Prepare yourselves.  We are going home." 

*     *     * 

   There was a brief flicker, an instant of disorientation.  

Suddenly the communications channels were flooded 

with activity. 

     ". .please identify. ." 

     "Repeat...this is the U.S.S. Enterprise," replied Uhura 

slowly. 

     "What happened to you, Enterprise.  You seemed to 

just fall off the grid for a few minutes.  Hold one 

minute. .we're picking up another vessel with you.  

Can you help identify it?" 

     "That would be a Romulan Bird Of Prey named The 

Talon," said Uhura. 

     "Romulan?  Repeat that, Enterprise.  Do we have an 

undocumented Romulan warship in the Terran star 

system?" 

     Uhura's attention was drawn to another opening 

channel in which Kirk would be interested.  

"Commander Kohbrah for you, Sir," she announced. 

     "On screen, Lieutenant." 

     "Captain Kirk, I hate to save your planet and then 

just dash off, but now that we are home, so to speak, 

things have to be as they were.  Duty, you 

understand." 

     "I do understand," replied Kirk, "and I am likewise 

bound by duty to request that you surrender 

Ambassador Ksariss to us.  If you comply, you will be 

safely escorted to the Neutral Zone." 

     "I'm sorry, but I cannot do that, Kirk.  Duty says that 

while I have her, I must try to escape." 

     "If that's the way it must be, good luck, Commander 

Kohbrah," said Kirk. 

     "And to you, Captain Kirk." 

     The Talon started a fast turn away from the 

Enterprise, becoming invisible and speeding away. 

     "I am tracking them," announced Spock. 

     "Helm, take us after them, and don’t lose them this 

time!" ordered Kirk. 

     "Captain," said Uhura, "Starfleet reports they are massing a cluster of ships ahead of the Talon to block 

its escape." 

     Kirk acknowledged her information and then 

studied the tactical display on the forward 

viewscreen.  The chase continued for another ten 

minutes before the positions of the intercepting 

Federation ships began showing up on the display.  

Apparently the Talon also detected the additional 

Starfleet vessels.  It dropped out of warp, eventually 

decloaking and coming to a complete stop.  When Kirk 

ordered the Enterprise to close within phaser range of 

the Talon, the Romulan ship was boxed in, with 

virtually no hope of escape. 

     As Kirk was wondering what Kohbrah would try 

next, Uhura announced, "Captain, Commander 

Kohbrah would like to speak to you." 

     "Let's hear what he has to say, Lieutenant." 

     Commander Kohbrah appeared on the viewscreen 

with Ambassador Ksariss at his side.  "It appears we 

have both satisfied the requirements of our duty, 

haven't we, Kirk?" observed Kohbrah. 

     "It was.. a most commendable effort," replied Kirk. 

     "My tactical display indicates that my present 

situation is essentially hopeless," said Kohbrah. 

     "I have to agree," said Kirk.  "If you would like, I 

could have my First Officer compute your chances of 

escape." 

     "That will not be necessary, Captain," said Kohbrah.  

"In view of your surprising display of superior 

numbers, I am prepared to surrender Ambassador 

Ksariss." 

     "You. .!" exclaimed Ksariss as she drew back to 

strike Kohbrah.  Her hand swung wide.  Kohbrah 

thrust his arm upward and easily blocked the blow.  

He then turned to walk away from her as two security 

guards took her firmly by the arms and hustled her 

again toward the bridge exit. 

     As the trio reached the exit, Ksariss said to the 

security guards, "One moment.. "  They permitted her 

to turn around. 

     "This is nothing more than petty revenge, Turin!" 

she cried. 

     Kohbrah permitted himself the smallest of smiles: 

the insufferable shrew had actually used his given 

name.  And there had been a wavering quality in her 

voice that suggested she had been crying.   

     Imagine that, thought Kobrah.  Ksariss, crying… 

     "Perhaps it is little more than petty revenge, 

Ambassador," responded Kohbrah without turning to 

face her, "but it should be comforting for you to know 

that it was served to you exquisitely cold." 

                                    ----  EPILOG  ---- 

     In due course, Ksariss was delivered to the Bantam-

Brooks Penal Facility without further incident.  The 

anticipated torrent of protests from the Romulan 

Government never materialized.  It was as if the 

Romulans were officially disavowing any knowledge 

of, or interest in the woman. It was with profound 

relief that Starfleet officials encountered news 

segment titles such as WOMAN WITHOUT A 

COUNTRY, presented almost as afterthoughts 

throughout the media. They proved to be the dying 

embers of the Ksariss story. 

     The missing transport ship, and all the missing trial 

witnesses it had been carrying, mysteriously appeared 

in orbit around Ketridge Alpha,  a surprise which 

inspired base commander Commodore Barry to press 

even harder for the security improvements he felt his 

base required. 

     After delivering Ksariss to Bantam-Brooks, the 

Enterprise was assigned a final mission before 

reporting to spacedock, ferrying a group of minor 

diplomats and officials back to Earth for reassignment. 

An hour away from the scheduled rendezvous with 

the orbiting repair facility Captain James Kirk was in 

his quarters halfheartedly packing some of the few 

possessions he had allowed to become a permanent 

part of his life.  He had just closed a box when he 

heard someone at the door.  "Enter," he said, 

searching for another box he had tossed somewhere 

nearby. 

     McCoy entered holding a small bottle and two of 

the glasses he always replicated when he felt that an 

occasion required commemoration. 

     "Donated by Scotty, Jim," McCoy smiled.  "It looks 

like this'll be our last drink together on the 

Enterprise," he said while pouring a discreet amount 

from the bottle into the two glasses and handing one 

to Kirk, "at least for a while." 

     Kirk smiled halfheartedly, realizing that what he 

had to say to McCoy would not come out easily.  "It 

will be our last one together on the Enterprise for a 

long time, Bones.  I've scheduled my appointment 

with the promotion review board." 

     McCoy set his glass on the table and replied, "You 

know how I feel about you and this promotion.  You're 

not ready to fly a desk.  Don't you have any desire to 

get back out there and see what's to be discovered 

yet?" 

     Kirk thought it over, acknowledging to himself that 

another five-year assignment exploring the vast 

unknown would be fun.  Perhaps the immense 

satisfaction he had expected to derive from a career in 

Starfleet had been the main reason he had enrolled in 

the Academy.  Indeed, the career to this point, and 

especially the ending five-year mission had delivered 

immense satisfaction, but perhaps additional starship 

command assignments were not part of his destiny.  

He was again visited by the memory of Sabat 

addressing him as 'Admiral' before he sent them 

home.  Had that been a discreet revelation, or a 

warning?  Should he surrender to his apparent 

destiny, go with the flow, or attempt to sidestep the 

impending uncomfortable leap into his future and 

relive the satisfactions of the past?  As tempting as 

that was, he could not deny that time relentlessly 

conveyed all things to their indelible fortunes. 

     Kirk picked up McCoy's glass and handed it to him.  

"I've seen my future, Bones, and the path I must travel.  

Let's have this last drink together, for the good times." 

     McCoy swallowed hard, and finally said, "You 

always were one to rush in where angels feared to 

tread.  Someday you'll see that I was right.  You won't 

be happy playing Admiral.  But," he added, raising his 

glass, "I'll drink to the good times." 

     There was a ringing clink, followed by a burning 

wash that celebrated and cemented a friendship. 

   Finally McCoy put down his glass and said, "I've got 

to go, Captain.  I believe it’s about time you were on 

the bridge to bring this battered bucket of bolts in for 

its overhaul." 

     "Thanks, Bones," Kirk smiled as McCoy hurried 

through his door.  The Doctor had been right.  He 

should be on his way to the bridge.  He stared for a 

moment at the door to his quarters, at the moment 

closed and protecting him from the future.  When it 

opened again, nothing would ever be the same. 

                                       THE END  