considerably."

 

"I'm not authorized to overturn my superior

 

officer's orders in that matter." A trace of

 

annoyance crept into Chapel's voice. "However,

 

if you insist, I'll ask Dr. McCoy whether

 

he wants to make an exception to his orders."

 

"We would greatly appreciate that, Doctor."

 

Chapel gestured toward the outer office. "If you

 

will please wait in the other room, I'll try

 

to find Dr. McCoy." When Montoya and

 

Simons were seated, Chapel called McCoy, who

 

was washing up after running additional analyses on the

 

dead Kaldorni.

 

McCoy scowled when Chapel told him

 

Montoya and Simons were in Sickbay, but while

 

Chapel talked, he returned the body to the

 

mortuary locker and traded his surgical

 

whites for his regular uniform. When Chapel signed

 

off, McCoy called Captain Kirk. He

 

waited in the corridor until the captain arrived.

 

McCoy and Kirk entered Sickbay together.

 

Montoya planted himself in front of McCoy.

 

"Doctor, 244

 

my wife is concerned about her daughter. Is there

 

any way she can see her?" Kirk stepped forward.

 

"Commissioner, those orders are mine. They are for

 

Lieutenant Whitehorse's protection."

 

"Surely you don't suspect the girl's mother of

 

threatening her safety?" Kirk glanced at

 

Simons. She seemed strangely quiet.

 

Uneasy but unable to isolate the cause, Kirk

 

focused his attention on Montoya. "Commissioner,

 

at the moment, everyone on this ship is under

 

suspicion. Too many strange things have been

 

happening."

 

"I still don't see-was

 

"Excuse me, sir," Chapel said, interrupting

 

Montoya. "Captain, would you allow the

 

commissioner's wife to see her daughter if you and

 

Dr. McCoy were in the room?"

 

Kirk gave the idea a moment's thought and nodded

 

grudging assent. "But only for a moment,"

 

McCoy said. "She needs rest and shouldn't be

 

bothered with visitors." He started toward

 

Janara's room. Kirk followed them, frowning with

 

concentration. It was not his imagination-there was something

 

different about Simons' behavior.

 

"What?" McCoy rushed to his patient. The

 

diagnostic panel displayed a mass of confused

 

readings. Janara was drugged, but McCoy did not

 

recognize the effects of any medication he knew.

 

He moved closer and his foot kicked something.

 

Leaning over, he picked up a small, square,

 

rough-textured bottle. Its top was missing, and it

 

held four or five brown, oval tablets.

 

McCoy frowned, unable to identify the pills.

 

He glanced toward Kirk. "Jim, tell

 

Christine to get in here at once."

 

"How long has she been like this?" McCoy asked

 

when Chapel joined them. Chapel looked from Janara

 

to the diagnostic panel,

 

comparing the readings with the ones she had been monitoring

 

just before Simons and Montoya arrived. She shook

 

her head. "Not long. I was monitoring her from the

 

other room."

 

She circled the bed and opened the control panel

 

for the monitoring equipment. The

 

diagnostics program registered a null output.

 

When she got the same results a second time,

 

Chapel snapped the cover shut. "The transponder

 

circuit is malfunctioning. It isn't sending any

 

warning signals to my console."

 

"What's going on." Kirk demanded.

 

McCoy held out the bottle to the captain.

 

"Lieutenant Whitehorse took an overdose of

 

something. I don't recognize these pills."

 

Chapel straightened to attention, looking like a

 

trainee waiting for a reprimand. "The pills are

 

boretelin, a Deltan psi-suppressant. I

 

thought it would be more beneficial than sedatives for

 

her."

 

"Deltan?" Simons pushed her way into the

 

group. "First, you let that animal beat her up, and

 

now you let him poison my poor little Janie. I

 

want that creature punished!"

 

"Ms. Simons," Chapel said, "the drug may

 

be Deltan, but it's hardly a poison. And if

 

anyone is at fault here, it's me. I left the

 

bottle within reach."

 

"I want that Deltan punished!!"

 

Kirk's thoughts snapped into focus and he

 

realized what was nagging at his

 

subconscious. Simons' words and gestures were the

 

same, but she lacked the overpowering sexuality he

 

identified with her. While he tried to unravel the

 

significance of that insight, Kirk went to the

 

intercom and called Tenaida to Sickbay. When he

 

finished, McCoy was still questioning Chapel about the drug.

 

"The function of any psi-suppressant is

 

to block off the areas of the brain involved with the psi

 

functions. Boretelin was formulated for use on

 

untrainable telepaths. It can be administered at

 

high dosages for long periods without side

 

effects." Chapel scanned the 246

 

diagnostic panel again. "As far as I know, the

 

only effect of a large dose is unconsciousness,

 

but I've never heard of anyone taking quite that much."

 

Footsteps sounded in the outer room. Tenaida

 

walked through the door in time to catch the last of

 

Chapel's explanation. "Doctor Chapel's

 

information is essentially correct. There have been

 

occasional reports of allergic reactions, but no

 

other harmful effects have ever been observed." He

 

raised an eyebrow in a questioning gesture when he saw

 

the almost empty bottle in McCoy's hand, but he

 

said nothing.

 

"He's lying!" Simons' voice

 

rose in a despairing wail. "First, he beat her

 

up and said he didn't do it, and now he's tried

 

to poison her with a drug he says is harmless."

 

Montoya had followed Tenaida into the room.

 

Simons went to her husband and buried her face

 

against his shoulder. "Yonnie, can you do something, if these

 

people won't?"

 

Montoya's arm tightened protectively around

 

her. "Captain, wouldn't it be wise to restrain the

 

suspect until you investigate the matter? I

 

think my wife has a valid point."

 

Kirk felt as though a trap had closed on

 

him. He knew Simons' accusations were

 

ridiculous, but he could not afford to antagonize

 

Montoya by saying so. The captain looked toward

 

Tenaida, wondering what he was thinking. The

 

Deltan caught Kirk's eyes and nodded almost

 

imperceptibly. Kirk remembered Brady's

 

earlier suggestion to confine him to the brig as bait for the

 

intruder. Though the idea still troubled him, he saw

 

no other choice. "Very well, Commissioner. If that

 

will satisfy you."

 

"Jim, you can't-was McCoy protested.

 

Kirk gave a shake of his head, hoping

 

McCoy would recognize the warning. When

 

the captain spoke, his voice sounded tired. "Not

 

now, Doctor. We'll talk about it later." He

 

cut off further protests by sending for the security

 

guards.

 

"I want someone with Lieutenant Whitehorse

 

at all 247

 

times. She's been having too many accidents

 

lately, and it's about time we practiced a little

 

"preventive medicine." Also, just to be safe,

 

I'm posting a security guard outside the door

 

until further notice."

 

McCoy started to object, but a second look

 

at Kirk's grim expression changed his mind.

 

When the security men arrived, Kirk had them arrest

 

Tenaida. After politely but firmly removing

 

Montoya and Simons from Sickbay, Kirk went

 

to the brig, ostensibly to interrogate his science

 

officer.

 

By the time Kirk reached the brig, Security

 

Chief Chekov was waiting. Kirk jerked his head

 

toward the office. "I'll be with you in a minute,

 

Mr. Chekov." He turned to the two guards.

 

"Johnstone, Ramirez-put Tenaida in

 

maximum security. And guard that door until I

 

bring your relief." The guards exchanged

 

puzzled looks. Access into the cell block was

 

controlled from Chekov's office. Tenaida was

 

calm, accepting his arrest with complete equanimity,

 

making such extreme precautions seem unnecessary.

 

Kirk glared at the two guards to warn them that his

 

orders were not to be questioned. Johnstone palmed the door

 

lock and waited for Chekov to release the

 

forcefield. They escorted the Deltan down the

 

corridor, and they locked him in a cell behind

 

another force barrier. When the door field was

 

restored, Johnstone and Ramirez took up their

 

places on either side of the opening.

 

"Captain, would you explain what is happening

 

now?" Chekov asked, stepping into the corridor.

 

Kirk pointed toward the security chief's

 

office. The room was small and sparsely

 

furnished, with surveillance screens covering one

 

wall. Kirk closed the door and pulled a chair

 

around to watch the monitors on the security cells.

 

Satisfied with his arrangements, he finally answered

 

Chekov's question. "Bait. I think the spy was in the

 

room when I arrested Tenaida. If so, she 248

 

will attack now while she believes Tenaida is

 

confined and unable to defend himself.

 

"I want your two best men to trade

 

shifts on that cell. One of them should be there at all

 

times. Don't let either of them leave this area or

 

get out of sight of another guard for any reason

 

until this is settled. Is that clear?"

 

"Yes, Captain."

 

"When your men arrive, I'll give them the

 

passwords I'll use if I want to see

 

Tenaida. Absolutely no one else is to go

 

into the cell, unless they're accompanied by me. If

 

someone tries to get in without the correct password,

 

or if I'm not with them, I'm ordering the guards

 

to shoot first and ask questions only after the person is under

 

restraints. Even if the person looks like me."

 

"Do you really think the spy will try to attack

 

Lieutenant Tenaida while he is in maximum

 

security?"

 

"Tenaida and I discussed it, Lieutenant, and

 

we think there's a chance. Besides, what have we got

 

to lose? If the spy doesn't move soon enough,

 

I'll let Tenaida out and hope we've got a

 

better idea by then."

 

Chekov called in two more guards. Kirk gave

 

them their orders and passwords, and took them

 

to Tenaida's cell. "Remember," he said,

 

repeating his orders for emphasis, "keep

 

in sight of another guard at all times. Don't

 

even go to the head by yourself. I don't want to give the

 

spy any opportunity to replace you and attack

 

Tenaida."

 

"We understand, sir." The looks of grim

 

anticipation on their faces told Kirk how

 

badly they wanted to get their chance at the spy. He

 

hoped the intruder would make her move before a long

 

vigil wore down the guards" fighting edge.

 

When Kirk re-entered the office, Chekov was

 

examining his monitor channels. "Would

 

Lieutenant Tenaida mind if we used the video

 

monitors to watch the inside of his cell? And

 

listened with the enhanced audio sensors?"

 

"Take any precaution you think necessary. The spy

 

has the advantage-she knows right where Tenaida

 

is."

 

"All right, Captain. We will use all our

 

sensors at full sensitivity." Chekov began

 

keying in the commands and Kirk escaped to the relative

 

peace of McCoy's office i n Sickbay.

 

Kirk stared at the wall, trying to isolate the

 

thought that he could not-quite-drag out of his subconscious

 

mind. If, as he suspected, the shapechanger had

 

replaced Cecilia Simons before

 

Simons and Montoya came to Sickbay, then where

 

and when had the substitution occurred? And what had

 

happened to the real Simons? That afternoon, both he and

 

Chekov had thought the shapechanger was disguised as the

 

Kaldorni k'ationavle s'Flen. He turned on

 

the computer, worked through the security clearances, and

 

called up the afternoon's recordings from the intercom

 

monitors. After five minutes' search, he found

 

Simons and s'Flen entering the turbolift on

 

Deck Seven. Kirk scanned forward and found where

 

they entered the briefing room, but Simons was the

 

only person who left.

 

After calling for a security team to investigate,

 

Kirk went to the briefing room himself. The armed

 

guards went inside, but returned immediately, looking

 

worse for the experience. "There's a body in there,"

 

Tiilson, a stocky blond ensign, reported.

 

"It's not a pretty sight."

 

Kirk entered the room. Simons' nude body

 

was sprawled on the floor. The torso had been

 

sliced open by parallel gashes that ran from

 

collarbone to pelvis. Blood covered the body and the

 

surrounding floor. Kirk turned away,

 

grimacing.

 

"Get a stretcher down here at once,"

 

he ordered. "We'll need an autopsy on that

 

body. And search the room for any clues."

 

"Yes, Captain." Tiilson hurried to the

 

intercom.

 

Kirk listened to the guard's agitated voice for a

 

moment, then turned to his tall, dark-haired

 

partner. "Keth, tell McCoy I want the

 

autopsy report the minute it's ready. I'll

 

talk to Commissioner Montoya now and will be available

 

after that." He paused, glancing over at the corpse

 

once more. "Have the doctor wake me up when the

 

report is ready."

 

"Aye, aye, sir."

 

Kirk stared at the intercom, wondering how to tell

 

Commissioner Montoya of his wife's death.

 

Montoya would not take the news well, especially

 

given the circumstances of the murder. Finally, Kirk

 

hit the control pad. There was no good way to break the

 

news, so he might as well quit procrastinating.

 

The voice that answered the call was blurred with

 

sleep. "Montoya here." "This is Captain

 

Kirk. I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour, but

 

something important has come up. Are you alone?"

 

"My wife is asleep, Captain. Can't this

 

wait until morning?" If I put it of

 

Kirk thought, there may not be any morning for you.

 

"I'm afraid not, Commissioner. Could you come to Dr.

 

McCoy's office at once?" When Montoya

 

answered, his voice sounded more awake. "Very well,

 

Captain. I'll be there in a few minutes."

 

"I'll be expecting you. Kirk out." He

 

slapped at the intercom pad. "Chekov? Kirk

 

here. Put a triple guard outside Commissioner

 

Montoya's quarters. If his wife leaves those

 

rooms, arrest her immediately. Use extreme

 

caution; she's to be considered armed and dangerous."

 

"Yes, Captain."

 

"On second thought," Kirk said, cursing himself

 

for his stupidity, "pass Montoya through, but arrest

 

anyone else that leaves that cabin." "Acknowledged."

 

"Kirk out." He slumped in his chair, fiddling

 

with the strap on his chronometer. Five minutes, he

 

told himself. If Montoya isn't here in five

 

minutes, Ill have to assume he's been replaced,

 

too. He activated a medical scanner and linked

 

its output to the computer, setting the system to warn him

 

if the scan registered less than 95 percent

 

correspondence with Montoya's identity files.

 

The phaser in his lap felt comfortingly solid.

 

Montoya entered and took the seat Kirk

 

offered. "All right, Captain, would you mind telling

 

me what's so important it cannot wait until

 

morning?" Kirk glanced at the computer screen. It

 

showed a solid 98 percent on all scans. Knowing

 

he faced the real Montoya did not make it

 

easier to choose the right words. "Half an hour

 

ago, we found a body in the briefing room,

 

Commissioner. We're certain of the identification; it

 

was your wife." "That's impossible. I left

 

Cecilia in our quarters not five minutes ago."

 

"I'm afraid that was an impostor, Commissioner.

 

When we found her, your wife had been dead for some

 

time."

 

Montoya opened his mouth to protest, but no words

 

came. His jaw muscles twitched convulsively,

 

and his face took on a numb, bewildered look.

 

"You've seen the body, Captain?" he asked when

 

he could speak. "Yes. It wasn't a pretty

 

sight, but I'm certain of the identification." Kirk

 

shuddered, remembering just how well he knew

 

Simons' body. "I would like to see her,

 

Captain. I have to be sure."

 

Kirk searched Montoya's face for clues

 

to his emotional state. He seemed in control, as

 

calm as the proverbial stone Vulcan.

 

How long that restraint would last, Kirk could not

 

guess, but for the moment, he decided to play things

 

Montoya's way.

 

"Very well, Commissioner."

 

McCoy was doing the autopsy when Kirk

 

escorted Montoya into the ship's morgue. The

 

doctor threw a

 

sheet over the torso to conceal the deep wounds from

 

Montoya. He stared at his wife's face for

 

several minutes without registering any emotion.

 

Finally he walked out of the room, his movements slow

 

and wooden. Kirk heard him drop into a chair.

 

"Bones, do you have any preliminary results?"

 

McCoy gave him a disgusted look the condition

 

of the body should have been enough to tell Kirk what the

 

doctor's initial findings would be. "Cause of

 

death loss of blood and internal damage. You

 

saw those slashes. Also, she was given a massive

 

dose of Trisopen-5 shortly before she died."

 

"Just like the other one." It gave Kirk little

 

satisfaction to know the spy was being consistent. Also, with

 

Simons dead, they might never learn what her

 

interest in their mission had been.

 

"There's something I'd like to show you, though."

 

McCoy switched on a display screen.

 

"I did a full body scan. Notice the dark

 

area behind the left ear."

 

"An implant of some sort?" Kirk asked.

 

"It looks like one of the code-receiving chips

 

Intelligence uses for their agents."

 

"It's similar, but I don't recognize the

 

design and the neural connections are wrong. It

 

isn't one that our people admit to using."

 

"Can you get it out so we can study it?"

 

"I don't know. I'll try, but I'd prefer

 

to have Tenaida and Scotty help me with it. These

 

infernal gadgets often incorporate

 

self-destruct mechanisms." "In that case,

 

don't do anything for a while. Tenaida should be free

 

to help you in an hour or so."

 

"Good." McCoy returned to work as Kirk

 

left the room. He was analyzing the slashes,

 

hoping to learn what had made them, and he wanted

 

to finish the job as quickly as he could.

 

Kirk stopped beside Montoya's chair, waiting

 

for the other man to notice him. Montoya raised his

 

head, giving Kirk a dazed, hopeless look.

 

"What will you do about the thing impersonating my wife?"

 

"With your permission, sir?" When Montoya

 

nodded, Kirk called Security.

 

"Tell the guards on Commissioner Montoya's

 

quarters to arrest anyone inside." He turned off

 

the intercom.

 

"Thank you, Captain. Is there somewhere I could be

 

undisturbed for a while? I need to sort some things

 

out." He stumbled over the words, stretching them out as

 

if talking was too great an effort.

 

"Use Dr. McCoy's office. He's busy

 

and won't need it for some time." "Thank you."

 

Montoya staggered out of the chair. His motions, like his

 

words, were stiff and mechanical. He acted as though

 

his brain had divorced itself from the rest of his body.

 

Kirk took Montoya to McCoy's office.

 

Montoya seemed oblivious to his surroundings, but

 

Kirk gave him a glass of McCoy's

 

medicinal scotch anyway. For a moment, Kirk

 

found himself wishing he could join Montoya and postpone

 

his next unpleasant duty, but he knew he would be

 

needed soon in the brig. Before he reached the

 

turbolift, the intercom paged him. "Kirk here."

 

"Captain, no one was in Commissioner

 

Montoya's quarters. And the guards saw no one

 

leave the cabin."

 

"Acknowledged. Kirk out." He looked

 

nervously over his shoulder as he hurried

 

into the turbolift. Somehow, the spy had outguessed

 

them once again and had evaded the trap. She was

 

loose on the Enterprise, and Kirk had no idea

 

where to start looking.

 

WHEN KIRK CALLED MONTOYA,

 

Srrawll suspected someone had found the body in the

 

briefing room. Leaving it there had been sloppy

 

work, but removing the evidence without attracting

 

attention had been impossible. She had considered

 

disfiguring the body, but without a false identity

 

to mislead the investiga- tors, the effort would have been

 

wasted.

 

Destroying the body with Simons' phaser would have

 

been better, but to Srrawll's disgust, the device

 

had been keyed to Simons. By the time Srrawll

 

discovered that, the flesh of Simons' hand had cooled

 

enough that it would not trigger the sensors in the phaser's

 

handle. When she left the body in the briefing

 

room, Srrawll had hoped it would not be found

 

until morning. Once Montoya was sound

 

asleep, she could drug him as Simons had done

 

when she had slipped out at night. Then, using

 

Montoya's form, Srrawll could execute the fat

 

ones. When Kirk finally discovered who was

 

responsible, the negotiations would be over.

 

Now, however, she could not replace Montoya.

 

In the short time available to her, even with the

 

Trisopen, she might miss critical information

 

needed to carry off the sustained impersonation of so

 

impor- 255

 

tant an individual. She feigned sleep

 

until Montoya left, then opened the cabin's

 

air duct.

 

Concentrating carefully, she visualized the sur

 

snake of her home jungles. After a moment, she

 

felt her form shift, lengthening and stretching. And then

 

she moved inside, feeling the walls of the air duct

 

against her scales.

 

Kirk drained the dregs from his coffee cup and

 

grimaced. With the best food synthesizers and

 

technicians in the Federation at his disposal, he still

 

could not get a good cup of coffee. He reached for the

 

carafe to pour another cup, wondering whom he had

 

to bribe to get something that tasted like the real thing.

 

"Assistant," he said to the computer. "Scan and

 

evaluate Commander Brady's files on the

 

shapechanger theory. Is such an entity possible?"

 

After a long moment, the computer replied, "Commander

 

Brady's files contain much speculation but no

 

data amenable to analysis."

 

"But could such a being exist?"

 

"Insufficient data. Commander Brady

 

postulates an ability for total transformation of

 

cellular material. However, he does not

 

stipulate the time parameters of such a transformation,

 

nor does he specify how much of this hypothetical

 

creature's metabolism would be directed to fueling

 

the transformation. Other factors needed for the

 

analysis include the physical size of the

 

creature and its biochemistry. Without such basic

 

information, no meaningful analysis of this problem is

 

possible."

 

The door buzzer interrupted Kirk's

 

irritated reply. "Come," he called as he

 

deactivated the computer.

 

With a swish, the door slid aside. Patrick

 

Brady, looking tousled and rumpled, entered

 

Kirk's office. He threw himself into a chair and

 

reached for the other coffee cup. "Captain, if you had

 

to have a meeting at this ungodly hour, at least you

 

provided 256

 

the amenities. Though I'm sure your chief

 

surgeon wouldn't approve of you serving it by the

 

pot."

 

Kirk shrugged. "Is the dress uniform

 

for my benefit, or did I interrupt something

 

important? Does it have anything to do with that ensign

 

you've been admiring?"

 

"Captain!" Brady said with injured innocence.

 

"I'll have you know I've been working so hard lately

 

I haven't had time for pursuing said fair ensign.

 

Do you always run such a sweatshop?"

 

He gulped a mouthful of his coffee and almost

 

choked. "Where did you get this stuff? It tastes

 

exactly like the witches' brew they serve on

 

Starbase 34. And I have it on good authority the

 

mess officer there uses the engineer's sweat socks

 

to give it the proper punch."

 

"Maybe that's what they modeled our synthesizer

 

program after. But the coffee's not what I wanted

 

to talk to you about."

 

"I didn't think so." Brady dropped his

 

joking manner. "What's up?" Kirk described

 

the events of the last hour, concluding with Simons'

 

death and Tenaida's arrest. "So that's the plan.

 

We're hoping the spy will make a move and we can

 

catch her. Is there anything I've left out?"

 

Brady reached for the coffee. He lifted the lid,

 

then swung his arm, emptying the carafe in Kirk's

 

face. Kirk yelled as the hot liquid

 

hit him. Brady launched himself at Kirk. He

 

cleared the desk with ease, and his hands closed around

 

Kirk's throat.

 

The attack took Kirk by surprise. He

 

tried to twist away from his attacker and fell

 

sideways out of his chair, pulling Brady down on

 

top of him. Brady's hands squeezed harder,

 

closing off Kirk's windpipe. But Kirk had not

 

survived Finnegan's attacks at the Academy

 

without learning a few things about gutter fighting. He

 

slapped his hands hard against Brady's ears.

 

Brady grunted in surprise, and his hold on

 

Kirk's throat loosened. Before he could recover,

 

Kirk slammed one knee into Brady's crotch,

 

then rammed both fists into his kidneys, knocking

 

the wind out of him. Brady struggled to keep his hold

 

on Kirk, but the captain grabbed his thumbs and

 

jerked. There was a sharp crack of breaking bone.

 

Brady yowled and scrambled to get his feet under him.

 

Kirk kicked out with both legs. Brady flew

 

backward, crashed into the wall, and slid to the

 

floor, stunned. Kirk pulled himself to his feet,

 

gasping for breath. He slapped at the intercom

 

pad. "Security. My office. On the double."

 

Brady let out another frustrated yowl

 

and struggled to his feet. Before Kirk could move,

 

he stumbled out the door. Kirk tried to follow, but

 

by the time he reached the door, Brady was out of sight.

 

Frustrated, Kirk leaned against the wall, trying

 

to catch his breath.

 

The turbolift whisked open and four security

 

men jogged up to Kirk. "Security reporting as

 

ordered, sir."

 

"Search the area. The spy just attacked me, then

 

escaped into the corridor. He's disguised as

 

Commander Brady."

 

"Commander Brady? We'll find him right away,

 

Captain." The security men split into two teams

 

and began searching the corridors. Kirk leaned against

 

the wall, still trying to gather his scattered wits. The

 

attack had caught him completely off guard,

 

especially since the spy's conversation had sounded so

 

much like Brady's. Did that mean Brady had met

 

the same fate as Cecilia Simons-or was the

 

spy a very observant actor? And what was her next

 

move?

 

As soon as he asked the question, Kirk began

 

cursing himself for a fool. Of course the spy would head

 

for the brig. Whatever she wanted with Tenaida, she

 

would hope to accomplish by speed, to get

 

to Tenaida while Kirk and the security men were busy

 

elsewhere. Kirk hit the intercom switch. He

 

warned Chekov of his suspicions and ordered him

 

to find out what had happened to Patrick Brady.

 

Then, still swearing under his breath, Kirk headed for the

 

turbolift at a dead run.

 

Captain Kirk entered the brig and approached the

 

two guards flanking Tenaida's cell door.

 

Both guards remained impassive, one watching the

 

corridor while the other kept his eyes on the

 

prisoner. Srrawll massaged the poison sacs

 

at the tips of her fingers. "Let me in the cell with

 

him," she ordered.

 

The guard inspected her. For a moment, she feared

 

he had found a flaw in her impersonation, but he

 

turned toward the forcefield control mechanism. With

 

his hand poised over the touch pads, he said in a

 

conversational tone, ""Tis a wee bit early for

 

playing poker, is it not, sir?" Srrawll

 

blinked, wondering what to say to the irrelevant

 

remark. When she hesitated, the second guard

 

fired his phaser. She crumpled td the floor,

 

knocked unconscious by the heavy stun setting.

 

The watch officer looked up when Kirk entered the

 

guardroom. "Captain, I thought you just

 

went in to talk to the prisoner."

 

"No, I-was A grin of triumph split

 

Kirk's face. This time, he had guessed right!

 

"We've got her!" He charged from the room and into the

 

maximum security area, just in time to see his double

 

collapse on the floor. "Report," he

 

ordered, skidding to a halt beside the guards. "This

 

person asked to enter Lieutenant Tenaida's

 

cell. He didn't know the response to the code

 

phrase." The guard repeated the poker question. "It's

 

later than you think, Mr. Kelowicz," Kirk

 

replied. "Let's get Tenaida out of there and

 

lock up our prisoner. Have McCoy send someone

 

to collect

 

physiological data on-whoever that is-before the

 

prisoner wakes up. And put a guard in there with

 

her. If she tries anything, stun her again. I

 

want her to still be here when I return."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

They lowered the forcefield and carried Kirk's

 

double inside the cell. With the spy locked up and under

 

restraints, Kirk and Tenaida left the maximum

 

security area. After telling Tenaida what had

 

happened in the last few hours, Kirk sent him

 

to Sickbay to help McCoy extract the

 

implant from Simons" body. That left Kirk

 

with nothing to do until the prisoner regained

 

consciousness. He got another cup of coffee and

 

settled into a chair to wait.

 

"Captain?"

 

Kirk pushed his head off the table and struggled

 

to open his eyes. "Captain, the prisoner is

 

awake. Do you wish to question him now?" Kirk

 

straightened in the chair, stretching his back. "Yes,

 

Kelowicz. I'll be there in a minute." He

 

picked up his half-empty cup and downed the cold

 

coffee in three gulps. Scowling at the bitter

 

taste, Kirk left the cup on the table and followed

 

Kelowicz to the prisoner's cell. It was a shock

 

to see himself strapped to the bunk. Extra restraints

 

had been added, making it almost impossible for the

 

prisoner to move. Seeing Kirk's expression,

 

Kelowicz said, "Lieutenant Chekov ordered the

 

additional restraints, sir."

 

"A wise precaution." He entered the cell.

 

The spy glared at Kirk, putting all her hatred

 

into the look. Kirk was grateful for the weapons held

 

by the guards behind him.

 

"I am Captain James T. Kirk of the

 

starship Enterprise, was the prisoner said.

 

"You are an impostor and I demand to be released

 

at once!"

 

Kirk moved closer. Even from this distance, he could

 

detect no visible flaws in the impersonation. He

 

shuddered, chilled by the uncanny resemblance and the

 

eerie sensation of seeing and hearing himself. "The medical

 

department examined you while you were unconscious. You

 

are not, in spite of outward appearances, James

 

Kirk. Who are you?"

 

The double tensed, testing the restraints. They

 

tightened automatically, holding the captive's

 

body firmly against the bed. "A prisoner of war.

 

You have no authority over me."

 

"A prisoner of war?" Kirk's voice rose

 

in disbelief. "You are a spy, a saboteur, and a

 

murderer. So if you have anything to say for yourself, you'd

 

better start talking."

 

The double clamped his jaws shut and turned his head

 

toward the wall. "All right, let's try this. If

 

we don't find out anything more about you, we can't

 

reprogram the food synthesizers to meet your

 

dietary needs. You might have trouble finding enough energy

 

to hold your borrowed form." Kirk turned and walked

 

out, signaling the guards to restore the forcefield.

 

"It is not your plan to starve the prisoner,

 

is it, Captain?" Chekov asked when he and

 

Kirk were seated in Chekov's office. "That would be

 

considered a very cruel and unusual punishment."

 

"Of course not, but what I said is partly true.

 

We'll need information before we can program the food

 

synthesizers properly. I'm guessing it must take

 

a lot of energy to maintain an alien's shape, so

 

I'm hoping the threat of starvation will encourage the

 

prisoner to talk sooner." Kirk glanced at the

 

monitor to see if h is words had had any effect

 

yet. "I understand, Captain. We will continue

 

to observe the prisoner, and we will notify you the

 

minute anything changes."

 

"Carry on, Lieutenant." Kirk pushed himself

 

out of

 

the chair and forced his legs to carry him through the

 

door. He stopped at Sickbay for McCoy's

 

report on Patrick Brady.

 

"A bad concussion, and assorted bumps and

 

bruises." McCoy blocked the door to keep

 

Kirk from moving to Brady's bed. "He'll be

 

fine, but he needs rest. Same as you, Captain.

 

Are you going to your quarters, or do I give you the

 

bed next to Mr. Brady's?"

 

"I'll take my own, thank you."

 

"By the way, what happened to him?" McCoy

 

nodded his head toward Brady. "Apparently, the

 

spy attacked him. Fortunately, she didn't have

 

enough time to finish him off."

 

"What about you?"

 

Kirk shrugged. "We've caught the spy. Now

 

I think I'll go sleep for a week." "Just what

 

I was going to prescribe."

 

With great effort, he made it to his quarters before

 

collapsing from exhaustion. The Kaldorni women were

 

asleep on blankets piled on the floor, so the

 

bed was unoccupied. Kirk fell across it without

 

bothering to undress. As his head hit the pillow, he

 

recalled the double's words about being a prisoner of

 

war. "What was that supposed to mean?" Kirk mumbled

 

to himself. If it was important, he would figure it

 

out in the morning. Right now, he was too tired to think.

 

The intercom buzzer woke Kirk. He shoved

 

himself to a sitting position and looked at his

 

chronometer. 0700. It was past time for him to be

 

up, even if he had gotten only four hours of

 

sleep. He rubbed his eyes and reached for the control

 

pad.

 

"Captain," Tenaida's voice came through the

 

speaker, "I thought you would like to know what we

 

learned from the implant in Ms. Simons' body."

 

"Definitely, Tenaida. I'll be down in five

 

minutes."

 

Kirk bounced off the bed, suddenly feeling wide

 

awake. Finally, he was starting to get some answers

 

 

instead of only finding more questions. The room was

 

oppressively hot, and he considered taking a

 

shower. After a moment's thought, he decided to postpone

 

it until after he had seen Tenaida. He traded

 

the rumpled uniform he had slept in for a clean one,

 

tugged a comb through his hair, and was out the door before the

 

Kaldorni women had roused themselves from their

 

makeshift beds on the floor.

 

At this hour, most of the crew were on duty,

 

asleep, or eating, and the corridors were deserted.

 

Kirk saw no one as he hurried to Sickbay.

 

He charged through the door, out of breath from his haste.

 

"Let's have it." Tenaida handed him a noteboard

 

showing the circuit schematics for the implant. The

 

Deltan looked tired but his expression was

 

confident, as if he were well-pleased with his

 

results. "We were able to disarm the self-destruct

 

circuits in the implant, so we could remove it from

 

the body with its information intact. I dumped

 

its data into our computer for analysis."

 

"And came up with what?"

 

"The implant was a cipher chip for Simons

 

to encode and decode her communications with the people who

 

hired her. We decoded the message she added

 

to Commissioner Montoya's dispatch tape. It

 

suggests she was working for Dalien Cenara."

 

"Dalien Cenara?" Kirk stared at Tenaida in

 

disbelief, wondering if he had heard the Deltan

 

correctly. Dalien Cenara was the most notorious

 

underworld figure in Federation space. He controlled

 

an immense organization and was involved in every

 

illegal activity that would turn a profit.

 

Rumor claimed that Cenara could find a person for

 

any job-if the customer could pay his price.

 

"Someone must have wanted something pretty bad if they

 

went to Cenara for it. Do you know what her instructions

 

were?" "I infer her mission was to disrupt the

 

negotiations. That would have led to war between the Kaldorni

 

Worlds and the Beystohn League over the disputed

 

planet."

 

"Then someone who would profit from the hostilities

 

paid Cenara to sabotage the discussions." It was a

 

grim, ugly, and all-too-probable scenario.

 

"That's my conclusion." Tenaida's mouth

 

quivered in agitation. "Captain, there was something

 

else about the implant."

 

"Ye-es?" Kirk drew the word out into a question,

 

afraid if he pushed too hard Tenaida would not

 

tell him what was bothering him. "I am disturbed about

 

how the implant was placed in the skull." Tenaida

 

took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was totally

 

encased by bone, and there were no insertion marks-Dr.

 

McCoy believes that bone was grown around the unit

 

and the plate grafted into the skull."

 

"If that's true, is this discussion heading where I

 

think it is?" Tenaida nodded, his mouth compressed

 

into a harsh line. "It means that someone has greatly

 

improved implant techniques. A device

 

installed like Ms. Simons' is virtually

 

undetectable to all but the most thorough medical

 

scans. Furthermore, given the neural connections

 

required for a person to operate the implant, it could

 

not be removed from living tissue. To attempt to do so

 

would immediately activate the self-destruct

 

mechanism." "Destroying the person, as well as the

 

device." Kirk shuddered, thinking that someone had found

 

an incontestable way to insure loyalty. "Federation

 

Security will want to know about this as soon as

 

possible. Dispatch your report to them,

 

Priority One, when it's finished."

 

"Very well, Captain."

 

"To change the subject, where does our friend in the

 

brig fit into this?" "I don't know." A puzzled

 

look spread across Tenaida's face. "How long

 

do you intend to deprive the prisoner of food? If

 

she's been eating the Kaldorni 264

 

food, you can't expect her to take your threat of

 

starvation too seriously." Kirk gave Tenaida a

 

sheepish grin. "I was improvising-and hoping she

 

doesn't like Kaldorni food. What I'd

 

planned to do was question her again this morning, and then see

 

if McCoy and Leftwell have had time to work up her

 

nutritional requirements from the medical exam the

 

doctors did last night." "I see. When were you

 

going to conduct the interrogation?" "After I've had a

 

shower, breakfast, and enough coffee to keep me awake.

 

Do you want to help with the questioning?"

 

"Definitely."

 

"Then meet me in the brig in an hour."

 

Janara opened her eyes and looked around the

 

room, cataloging the monitors and equipment of a

 

standard room in Sickbay. She focused her

 

awareness inward, probing her body for new

 

injuries. Her collarbone and ribs had

 

been repaired, but she found a fresh assortment of

 

bruises on her body. She ran a hand down her

 

torso, half expecting to find a long knife

 

cut. The motion attracted Chapel's attention and

 

she came to the bedside. "How are you feeling this

 

morning?" she asked.

 

"All right." Janara checked herself again. The

 

residual damage was minor and, for once,

 

McCoy's sedatives had passed through her system

 

without making her feel like one of the rock specimens in

 

the lab. Even the predatory cat was seeking other

 

game for the moment. "Actually, I feel quite good."

 

"That's great. Dr. McCoy said I was to feed you

 

breakfast, and then he wants to talk to you." Chapel

 

sent for her breakfast tray. McCoy entered the

 

room as Janara finished her cereal. After he had

 

ordered Chapel to remove the 265

 

tray, McCoy paced the room, avoiding

 

Janara's curious look. When he realized what

 

he was doing, he stopped beside the bed.

 

"I have some bad news," he said, trying to meet

 

Janara's eyes. "Your mother was murdered last

 

night."

 

"A knife," Janara said in a flat tone,

 

drawing a line from her collarbone to her

 

pelvis.

 

"More like giant claws." McCoy stopped when

 

he realized what Janara had said. "How did you

 

know?"

 

"I-felt it."

 

"Then you already knew your mother was dead?"

 

Janara shook her head, denying the specifics.

 

"I knew someone was attacked. I didn't know

 

who."

 

McCoy searched her face for any sign of

 

emotional reaction. "You act as if it doesn't

 

matter that your mother was killed."

 

"Should it matter, Doctor? Our relationship was

 

due to an accident of biology, nothing more. Would you

 

like me to cry for you?" "No, but I don't think it's

 

healthy for you to bottle up your feelings, either."

 

"What feelings do you mean, Doctor? I

 

don't feel anything. Just tired . . . and

 

empty." Janara closed her eyes and turned her

 

head away. "If you don't mind, I think I'll

 

take a nap."

 

McCoy waited for several minutes, but Janara

 

ignored him. Finally, realizing Janara would not

 

continue the discussion, the doctor left. There were

 

limits to how much help he could offer

 

to someone who did not want to accept it.

 

"Captain, it was the strangest thing! We were

 

watching the prisoner on the monitor like

 

Lieutenant Chekov ordered, and suddenly his-I

 

mean, herentire body started to melt and . . . and

 

change shape. It took three or four minutes.

 

You can see the final results of the transformation."

 

Kirk took a long look at the screen. The

 

prisoner

 

was still strapped to the bunk, but a compact felinoid,

 

definitely female, had replaced the duplicate

 

James Kirk. She twisted against the

 

self-adjusting restraints, and the motion drew the

 

uniform tunic tight across four small, rounded

 

breasts. Her nose was broad and flat, and her

 

narrow, lipless mouth was twisted in a vicious

 

half-snarl. Two pointed, triangular ears

 

twitched in short, angry movements as she strained

 

to hear any sound her captors made. The five

 

centimeters of black fur on her head stood on

 

end. Her unblinking amber eyes stared toward the

 

concealed video pickup, and Kirk wondered if she

 

knew it was there. "Analysis, Tenaida?" "If

 

that's her true form, she doesn't belong to any

 

race known to us." "But is that her natural

 

appearance? Could it be another disguise?" "I

 

don't know. However, Shan Janara consistently

 

reported a black, catlike being. If her

 

appearance is for our benefit, she would confuse us more

 

by continuing to look lik e you."

 

"Then let's talk to her, because we're not going

 

to get any more answers sitting here."

 

"Agreed."

 

Kirk signaled to the three waiting guards

 

to follow him. He left one man outside the

 

shapechanger's cell and took the other two men

 

inside with him. The man already in the cell moved to the

 

far wall. Each of the guards braced himself against a

 

wall and trained his phaser on the prisoner. The

 

felinoid stared past Kirk. Only the increased

 

twitching of her ears showed she had noticed him.

 

"Are you ready to talk yet?"

 

"Am not obligated to talk with murderers and

 

thieves." She punctuated the words with vicious

 

snarls.

 

"Murderers? What do you call killing my

 

security guard? Or Cecilia Simons? Or

 

the Kaldorni ambassador's aides?"

 

"Thieves and friends of thieves. They are not

 

important."

 

"And what is important?"

 

"I defend my people. My solitude. I am

 

prisoner of war because I failed." "Where do you come

 

from?"

 

"The World. Where else?"

 

"That's not particularly helpful. Many beings call

 

their planets The World. his

 

"Prisoners of war are not required to tell their

 

captors anything. That is your law. My law

 

says thieves must be killed like the animals they

 

are." "What does this have to do with the Enterprise or

 

anyone aboard her?" "The fat ones are thieves.

 

You aid the fat ones, so you are no better than

 

they. In war against the enemies of my planet, I

 

kill all that interfere." "Yagra," Tenaida

 

said. "The prisoner is from Yagra IV."

 

"Is not name of The World!" She hissed and

 

snarled, arching her body against the restraints that held

 

her. Her struggle was so violent Kirk was afraid

 

she would hurt herself.

 

"Is Yagra IV the name used by members of the

 

Federation for the planet you come from?"

 

"Yes!" she answered between yowls and snarls.

 

"Captain, this changes the situation for the

 

negotiations. The Prime Directive

 

clearly prohibits colonial development under

 

these circumstances." "Yes, a native

 

intelligent race on the planet negates both the

 

Kaldorni and the Beystohnai claims

 

to exploitation rights." Kirk was not sure if

 

discussing the Prime Directive in front of the

 

prisoner would persuade her to cooperate, but at the

 

very worst, he did not see how she could become less

 

compliant.

 

"Of course, we must prove the prisoner comes from

 

that planet." Kirk glanced at the shapechanger.

 

She was listening intently to the discussion, but her

 

expression was

 

hostile. Clearly, she did not believe what

 

he and Tenaida had just said. "How long will it take

 

you to prove she comes from Yagra?" "I don't know,

 

Captain. I'll start on it at once."

 

"Unless the prisoner wants to tell us anything

 

now-was The felinoid clamped her jaws shut when she

 

saw Kirk looking at her. "comI think we'll

 

continue this later."

 

The prisoner stared at the ceiling, pretending she

 

had not heard anything Kirk had said. The captain

 

motioned to the security guards, and two of the three men

 

followed him and Tenaida out of the cell.

 

"May I see the patient, Doctor?"

 

McCoy looked up from his computer screen. He

 

had not heard Tenaida approach. "I don't see

 

why not. I'm keeping her here for observation, but she can

 

have visitors."

 

"Thank you, Doctor."

 

Janara was sitting against a pile of pillows, with the

 

computer screen in front of her. When Tenaida

 

entered the room, she shoved the machine away with an

 

annoyed grimace. "The doctor set this thing for

 

"read only," and I haven't been able to counter the

 

blocks. I'm getting tired of what little I can

 

do."

 

Loose strands of dark hair framed her face and

 

accented her smooth olive skin. Her expression

 

softened as she forgot her irritation with McCoy. A

 

wave of tenderness for the small woman washed through

 

Tenaida, and he was overwhelmed by her beauty. Why

 

have I never noticed it before? he thought. He

 

swallowed, trying to bring his voice under control. She

 

shook her head and gave him a half-smile.

 

"That's the nicest thing anyone has thought about me in a

 

long time, but you know it isn't true." "To me, it

 

is," Tenaida responded. He swallowed and

 

continued, barely able to keep his voice from

 

shaking. "I would ask if there is a soul mate for

 

you. She who was bonded to me died many years ago, and

 

 

until now, I have not found anyone I would wish

 

to take her place." Janara sank into the pillows

 

and closed her eyes. After a small eternity, her

 

eyelids fluttered open again. Tenaida let himself

 

drown m her gaze. She smiled, breaking the

 

spell. "There is much to consider in your proposal.

 

It will give me something to do until the doctor

 

releases me from his tender care. I had never thought

 

to find one of my own kind to share my life."

 

Tenaida wrapped his hands around one of hers, holding

 

it like a precious jewel. It was so small it

 

seemed lost between his wide palms. At last,

 

reluctantly, he laid her hand on the blanket.

 

"I must go. The alien we captured is from the

 

disputed planet, and the captain wants my advice

 

on the scientific and technical aspects of the

 

discovery."

 

"Tell me what's happened," she said, touching his

 

hand. "It will help you organize your thoughts for the

 

captain."

 

After a moment, he nodded in agreement. He

 

told how they had captured the shapechanger

 

and what finding a native intelligent race on

 

Yagra would mean for the Enterprise's diplomatic

 

mission. When he had talked himself into silence, she

 

suggested an idea he had overlooked. He glanced

 

at his chronometer, judging how long he had before

 

Kirk would need him. "I must run some simulations

 

on your suggestion, but I think you have solved our

 

problem."

 

"I hope so. There isn't much else I can do from

 

this bed."

 

"I'll ask the doctor to allow you full use

 

of the computer, although he is most stubborn about such

 

things."

 

"Don't I know!" Janara watched Tenaida

 

leave with a soft smile on her face.

 

Kirk downed another mouthful of coffee and set the

 

cup aside. Three hours of continuous subspace

 

communications with Admiral Chen and the Federation

 

Council's legal department had sorely tried his

 

patience. The diplomatic briefing that followed had

 

done nothing to improve his frame of mind. "That's

 

about it." He gave Kristiann Norris the

 

noteboard with the last of the documents he had just

 

summarized for her. "When Tenaida compared the

 

prisoner's physiology to our files on

 

Yagra IV, it confirmed her claim that she came

 

from that planet. Since her race is obviously

 

intelligent, the need for negotiations between the

 

Kaldorni and the Beystohn League no longer

 

exists."

 

Norris nodded. "The next thing we have to do is

 

explain this to Ambassador Klee. He isn't

 

going to be happy at losing those resources for his

 

planet." "Lieutenant Tenaida suggested a

 

solution. We submitted it to the Federation Council

 

along with a recommendation to permanently quarantine

 

Yagra IV. We're waiting for the reply."

 

"What was Shan Tenaida's idea?"

 

"When we were called to Starbase 15 to pick up

 

your party, we were working on the first phase of a routine

 

exploration and mapping assignment. We had just

 

finished scanning the Shansar system. It's a little

 

farther from the Kaldorni Worlds than Yagra, which

 

may explain why they haven't discovered it yet.

 

There are no intelligent inhabitants in the

 

system, and Tenaida reports the second planet

 

is similar to the Kaldorni homeworld in climate

 

and gravity. We proposed that the Kaldorni be

 

given the exclusive right to develop that planet."

 

"That should satisfy Ambassador

 

Klee, but what about the Beystohn League?"

 

"Conditions on the fourth planet in the Shansar

 

system should be much more to their liking than anything on

 

Yagra."

 

"Isn't it something of a coincidence that you just

 

happened to have a solar system waiting to be parceled

 

out?"

 

"Not really. There are plenty of uninhabited-and

 

unexplored-planets in this sector. The

 

Enterprise could have found something suitable with very little

 

effort, although neither the Kaldorni nor the Beystohn

 

League have the spaceflight technology for

 

extensive exploration-yet. If there's any luck

 

involved, it's that we didn't have to search for what we

 

needed." "And what about the prisoner? She may

 

consider herself a hero protecting her world, but that

 

doesn't justify her actions in everyone's eyes.

 

Joachim, for one, wants to see her properly

 

punished."

 

Kirk sighed, wondering if any answer would

 

satisfy Montoya. The commissioner alternated between

 

periods when he seemed functional and times when he

 

refused to leave his quarters or see anyone. "I

 

don't know what will happen there, Kris. The

 

Federation Council will decide that." Before

 

he could say more, the intercom sounded. He tapped the

 

switch. "Kirk here."

 

"Captain, we have a message for you from the

 

Federation Council." "What is it, Uhura?"

 

"The Council concurs with your recommendation

 

to terminate the scheduled negotiations between the United

 

Worlds of the Kaldorni Systems and the Beystohn

 

Amalgamated League of Planets because of the

 

identification of a native intelligent race on the

 

disputed planet, Yagra IV. "Further, given

 

the nature of said race and their expressed desire

 

to remain isolated, the Council provisionally

 

accepts your recommendation to establish a

 

quarantine, which will become permanent if approved

 

by the resident sapient population of the planet.

 

"The prisoner is to be handed over to the

 

authorities at Starbase 15, where she will be

 

confined pending discussions with representatives of her

 

homeworld to decide the appropriate punishment for

 

her activities against individual Federation

 

citizens.

 

"Proposal for the disposition of planets of the

 

Shansar system to the Kaldorni Worlds and the

 

Beystohn League is approved, if the

 

respective negotiating teams can

 

conclude appropriate treaties. Under the

 

circumstances, Federation regulations against disclosing

 

locations of Class -G exploitable worlds

 

to governments with less than Class-VI

 

spaceflight capabilities are waived.

 

Detailed instructions will follow shortly. End of

 

message.

 

"Also, Mr. Scott reports most repairs

 

are completed and warp capability is restored."

 

"Thank you, Uhura. Tell Mr. ben Josef

 

to set course for Starbase 15, and let me know when

 

the next message arrives. Kirk out." He

 

grinned at Norris, letting her see his pleasure

 

at the Council's answer. "That's the word. Now you

 

know as much about the situation as I do."

 

She stood, brushing the wrinkles out of her

 

tunic. "Thank you, Jim. I'd better see if

 

Joachim is ready to be briefed on this, and then I

 

have to set up a meeting with the Kaldorni."

 

"I'll walk you part of the way." Kirk rose and

 

moved to her side, offering her his arm. "Do you think the

 

Kaldorni will accept our proposal?" "They should.

 

In their own way, they're reasonable beings."

 

Kirk entered the Kaldorni's quarters. Klee

 

bowed to the captain. Kirk returned the

 

greeting and seated himself on the floor. The short

 

Kaldorni joined him.

 

"I've come to discuss the discord created when my

 

security people did not prevent the murder of your

 

aide, s'Flen," Kirk said. "This discordance is

 

a matter of the most concern. But the honored captain

 

should know that my failure to detect the impostor

 

among those that serve me is a matter of greatest

 

shame to me."

 

"There is truth in your words, Mr.

 

Ambassador. However, my superiors charged me

 

with finding the intruder, so the disgrace at failure

 

must be mine." "It would seem your failure is

 

indeed disgraceful. If you are at fault, you owe

 

me reparations for the loss of my aide. It would also

 

seem that your Commissioner Montoya wishes

 

reparations for his wife because I failed to detect the

 

discordance of an alien among those who serve me. The

 

compounding of these errors is becoming more than the

 

Harmony of the Universe can balance."

 

"May I suggest a resolution to the problem?"

 

"I will listen to your words and hope they may be as

 

harmonious as the ones given my people by your commissioner."

 

Kirk felt the relief wash through him. If

 

Mee liked the Federation's solution to the

 

Yagra problem, he should approve the captain's

 

next idea. "I will persuade Commissioner

 

Montoya to waive reparations for the death of his wife

 

if you will waive compensation for s'Flen."

 

After a moment, Klee extended his hands and bowed

 

to touch his forehead to his palms. "I believe this can

 

be made acceptable to my people." "I also wish to give

 

you a personal token of apology. I ask you

 

to accept the right to care for my three wives. My

 

honor owes you this additional apology because of my

 

responsibilities to protect everyone on my

 

ship. I hope you will receive the women and cherish them in

 

the spirit of brotherhood and harmony that prevails between

 

our peoples."

 

"If your honor demands this of you, I will

 

protect

 

these women as long as I hold the strength to defend

 

them."

 

"I thank you greatly, Mr. Ambassador. You

 

have restored my harmony with the universe." With an

 

overwhelming sense of relief, Kirk headed for his

 

quarters to tell the women.

 

Epilogue

 

KIRK AND KRIS NORRIS leaned against the

 

wall, watching luggage being loaded onto

 

the transporter pad for transfer to Starbase 15.

 

The Kaldorni had returned to the base half an

 

hour earlier. And with their departure, the Enterprise's

 

official duties were over.

 

"Well, Jim," Norris said, "it's been an

 

interesting trip."

 

"I'm sorry about that. I could have used a little

 

less excitement." "We have to take events as they

 

come, I guess."

 

"Speaking of that, how is Commissioner Montoya

 

handling things now?" She laughed. "Actually, he's

 

over most of the shock, and we'll have lots of work

 

hammering out the final agreement with the Kaldorni.

 

That's what he needs right now-something to keep him

 

busy. "What about you? Where's the Enterprise off

 

to next?" "Would you believe, to a detailed

 

exploration of the Shansar system? The Federation

 

Council wants more information, now that they've

 

assigned development rights to the second and fourth

 

planets. Since we did the preliminary scans,

 

we got the assignment." "That's good. Will you be

 

stopping over on Starbase 15 anytime soon?"

 

276 ENEMY UNSEEN

 

"I don't know. It depends on our schedule."

 

"Anytime you're in my neighborhood,

 

stop in. I'll buy you dinner, and I promise it

 

won't be from a Starfleet regulation menu." "I'd

 

like that. Good-bye, Kris." "Good-bye, Jim."

 

She gave him an impish grin and stepped onto the

 

transporter pad. "Do I detect a hint of

 

romance there, Captain?" Brady asked. Kirk

 

jumped, startled for a moment that he had company. "I

 

don't think so. She's just a very nice lady-and a

 

friend." "I see you returned the Kaldorni

 

ambassador's wives to him." Kirk allowed a

 

smug expression to spread across his face. "Once

 

l explained it in the proper terms of honor and

 

harmony with the universe, I think he was as glad to have

 

them back as I was to give them to him. You don't know

 

what a pleasure it is to have the temperature in my

 

quarters set at a reasonable level again!"

 

"Speaking of warm climates, when is Mr.

 

Spock due back?" Kirk glanced at his

 

chronometer. "Anytime now. He was supposed to be

 

here half an hour ago, but Base Traffic

 

Control said his shuttle had been delayed." The

 

door whisked open, and Tenaida and McCoy

 

entered, almost colliding with Kirk and Brady.

 

McCoy circled around to face the captain.

 

"Jim, why didn't you expedite the rest

 

leave I recommended for Janara Whitehorse?"

 

"What rest leave?" "I can answer that," Tenaida

 

said. "Shan Janara asked that the recommendation not

 

reach the captain until we finished our work on the

 

Shansar system." "She needs rest. And time

 

to adjust to her mother's death." Tenaida shook his

 

head. "I don't see why you think everyone should

 

react to such an event by dissolving into a pool of

 

useless emotions."

 

277 ENEMY UNSEEN

 

Kirk glanced at Tenaida, noticing his bland

 

expression. He suspected the Deltan was not

 

telling them something, but saw no way to find out what.

 

"Bones," Kirk said finally, "I think you're

 

outvoted this time. If Lieutenant Whitehorse

 

wants to finish her investigation of the Shansar system,

 

it sounds like the best prescription to me. But I

 

promise she'll get her leave as fast as possible

 

when I see the request." "And what about you,

 

Captain? This mission has been stressful for you

 

too." "I think I'll manage." Kirk gave

 

Tenaida a questioning look. "Do you suppose,

 

gentlemen, that we are fit for a quiet game of

 

poker? Or does the doctor think it would be too

 

strenuous, considering our current weakened

 

conditions?" While the transporter whined, McCoy

 

glared at the three of them. As Spock

 

materialized on the pad, the doctor announced,

 

"In your current weakened conditions, I should confine

 

the lot of you to Sickbay!" Spock responded,

 

"May I inquire as to what weakened conditions you are

 

referring?" "These men have had an extremely

 

strenuous two weeks," McCoy announced with a

 

theatrical flourish. "I can't begin to tell you how

 

difficult it's been for them." Spock lifted an

 

eyebrow. "Indeed, Doctor. I was under the

 

impression that the ship was undertaking a routine

 

diplomatic mission." Brady grimaced. Kirk

 

chuckled at his expression and turned to Spock,

 

shaking his head. "Just once, Sock-just once-I'd

 

like to see what a routine diplomatic mission was

 

like." Spock's eyebrow rose even higher. "Then

 

may I assume that the advice program you were

 

testing proved useful?" Kirk shook his head. "The

 

program needs work, Spock." "That is not

 

unexpected. It was a very preliminary version."

 

 

Kirk allowed himself a grin. "Well, Sock,

 

I hope your last two weeks weren't half as

 

exciting as ours." "I would not presume

 

to make comparisons until I know what happened on

 

the Enterprise. However, I have had an extremely

 

stimulating leave. T'Slar of the Vulcan

 

Academy of Sciences and her associates have

 

made some astounding discoveries on the structure of the

 

space-time continuum. Within the next twenty years,

 

their theories will completely revolutionize our

 

concept of space travel. And the Andorian group

 

led by Tarlev of Gan-was McCoy rolled his eyes

 

and shot Kirk an exasperated glance as Brady

 

looked on with amusement. Tenaida, however, listened

 

carefully to Spock's monologue, committing each

 

detail to memory. Kirk grinned and gestured

 

toward the door. "Gentlemen, shall we go mind the

 

store?"