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