Gemini (23 page)

Spock scanned the device for possible traps cautiously, from a distance, but after a moment motioned Kirk and McCoy ahead.

“Handcrafted, but efficiently made,” whispered Spock as his scanner played over the thing.

“Is it off?” asked Kirk.

“It is,” said Spock with a nod. “It seems to have been built to function once, then to await further commands.”

“Otherwise we'd also be piles of goo,” said McCoy.

“Unlikely, Doctor. Mr. Scott's emergency systems check after the initial malfunction revealed no further interruption—”

Though Spock hesitated briefly, Kirk motioned for him to continue, jerking a thumb behind them, into the vast darkness. Spock and McCoy nodded, and played along. Spock had heard the slight noises of an approach before Kirk had.

Despite their caution, whoever was out there had tumbled to their ruse. Kirk barely made out footsteps moving cautiously away, and motioned for Spock and McCoy to fan out. Spock headed for the stairs, while McCoy stood before the device they had found. It might yield information as to who had built it, in which case the intruder might try to destroy it, or perhaps it could somehow be used as a weapon.

Kirk crept further into the darkness, listening for any indication of motion, knowing that if he heard any footsteps, they wouldn't be Spock's; the Vulcan was too good at stealth maneuvers to give himself away that easily.

Straining to hear, Kirk heard more than he thought—thudding footfalls heading straight for him. He started to bring up his phaser, but too late. His quarry slammed into him, sending him sprawling. But Kirk had managed to get a grip on his assailant; he took the same ride Kirk did, but Kirk managed to wind up on top.

Kirk's free hand stabbed out and down. He felt the sting of contact as his fist landed on a jaw in the darkness and his opponent went slack. “I've got him!” he called.

The darkness of the chamber was partially repelled as Spock ignited his portable floodlight. Then, realizing it was set for more sensitive Vulcan eyes, he thumbed up the brightness, giving Kirk and McCoy a look at their captive.

“My God,” said Kirk, his voice as emotionless—from shock, not discipline—as any Vulcan's ever could be.

“Jim?” asked McCoy. Kirk was never really sure what the question was. He suspected McCoy didn't know, either.

If Spock was shocked, he of course gave no sign. More likely he simply felt no comment was necessary or helpful.

They stared down at the barely stirring form of Peter Kirk.

Kirk pointed to Peter and McCoy bent over him, nodding. With his other hand, Kirk whipped out his communicator. “Kirk to
Enterprise.
Four to beam up immediate—”

“Stand where you are!” throbbed a new voice. “Hands empty and where I can see them!”

Kirk, Spock, and McCoy turned to face Llora and an entourage of security guards pointing far more Nadorian weapons at them than Kirk was comfortable with.

By the time they were led out of the church, a crowd had gathered at the doorway. Nadorian palace guards had been pressed into service to keep the crowd back, but they could do little about the mood of the people, which seemed on the verge of eruption. Though many hands pointed accusing fingers at Peter, none of them seemed to bear weapons. Kirk kept his phaser in hand, just in case.

“You have no right to keep him,” said Kirk, speaking to Llora but keeping his eyes on the crowd. “Peter Kirk is a Federation citizen—”

“Who was found on what seems to be the site of the murder of Their Serene Highnesses,” said Llora, coldly. “That gives me the jurisdictional right to hold him for questioning, Captain.”

There was nothing to be gained that way. “Nonetheless,” said Kirk, switching tacks, “you can't really believe that Peter had anything to do with this.”

“Truthfully?” Llora's voice lowered and she turned her back on the crowd so she and Kirk could converse. “It seems unlikely, to be sure. But there is a sizable gap between the unlikely and the impossible, Captain. And if I were to turn the suspect over to you, I do not relish to think of the consequences it would have on Nadorian society. Keeping the peace before was difficult enough. Now, with the current situation … with the princes dead … ” Her voice trailed off for a moment, and her gaze lowered; Kirk almost risked putting a hand on her shoulder. Then her head snapped up and Kirk saw nothing in those eyes but cold professionalism. “Out of the question,” she said.

“But think of Peter's safety, for that very reason,” said Kirk. “How can you keep him safe when by now your entire planet thinks he was responsible for the deaths of your rulers?”

“That is my problem, Captain,” replied Llora.

“If my nephew is hurt you can be sure of that,” said Kirk, quietly.

“There is no need for this posturing, not from either of us,” said Llora, after a long moment. “What has happened between us remains there. You have my word your nephew will be protected and well treated. You may visit him, provided you have cleared such visits through my office.”

“At least let me be present when you question him.”

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Agreed.”

Kirk had one more card to play; Roget was able to get Llora to let McCoy examine the boy in his cell. Kirk stood by McCoy nervously as the physician played his instruments over the unconscious boy.

“Shouldn't he have regained consciousness by now?” asked Kirk.

“Ordinarily, yes,” replied McCoy, “but my readings show he's been drugged to the gills, and for some time. He was just starting to fight it off when you gave him another sleeping pill, administered by way of his chin.”

“I didn't know—”

“Of course you didn't,” said McCoy. “But he'll be all right, Jim.”

“Are you sure? I hit him pretty hard—”

“He's a Kirk,” said McCoy, dryly. “His head comes with extra padding, remember?”

“But he'll be all right? Can't you give him something to bring him around?”

“What did I just say?”

“But, Bones,” said Kirk, his voice lowering. “As long as you're going to—”

“Oh, all right.” McCoy drew his hypospray from his medical kit, prepared an injection, and let fly. A few seconds later, the boy stirred slightly and groaned. “There, he's coming around.” McCoy assembled his medical kit and called for the guard via the cell intercom. “I'll leave you two alone, Jim. For God's sake, don't smother him too much. This is why I never went into pediatrics.”

Just before the cell door closed behind McCoy, Kirk met the physician's gaze. He nodded, once, then left.

Peter's eyes opened slowly, then narrowed, as if the light was too bright for them. “Uncle Jim?” he asked, slowly.

“Hello, Peter,” said Kirk. “How do you feel?”

“Like death warmed over,” he said, at length. He hitched himself up on one arm, stiffly, and wiggled his jaw with his right hand. “Did you hit me?” he asked.

“I'm afraid so,” said Kirk, sheepishly.

“Dad said he could always take you, as long as you didn't connect with your right cross.”

“He did.” Kirk smiled, reminiscently. Then the present came flooding back. “You're in a great deal of trouble, Peter. You're accused of being complicit in the deaths of Princes Abon and Delor.”

Peter's eyes, even though bleary, widened. “They're dead?”

“You were found at the site. Where did you go when you left the
Enterprise
—against my orders,” he couldn't help adding.

“I sent you a message, didn't you get it?”

“We got it. But where did you go?”

“I was trying to scout out some connection to the rebels,” said Peter. He looked off, as if into a shadowy tunnel, as the memories came crawling back. “I decided to ask some questions at a bar I know—where I'd seen some suspicious-looking characters hanging around, people who had made a lot of noise about not liking the idea of becoming part of the Federation.”

The boy was resourceful, Kirk gave him that. “Did you learn anything?”

“I said a few things, and I asked some questions … maybe too many,” he said, wincing as he touched his head. “The last clear memory I have is of taking a drink a guy bought me. And then—”

“You were here.” Kirk shook his head. “Not much help.”

“‘Not much help'?” echoed Peter, incredulously. He jumped off the cot in his cell and staggered, obviously immediately wishing he hadn't. “You could go back there and—”

“Peter, think. If they chose you to be found where you were, it was almost certainly because they recognized you.” He shook his head. “No, they'll be especially careful around strangers. Better to—”

The electronic lock of the cell door clicked open, allowing Spock to enter. “Peter,” he said, evenly, “I trust you are well.”

“Hello, Mr. Spock. I'll be better when I'm out of here.”

“An event I should not look forward to anytime soon,” replied Spock. Kirk saw Peter's eyes widen a little; it took a while to get used to Spock's bluntness where unpleasant facts were concerned.

“Anything at the church?” asked Kirk.

“Nothing that might serve as the springboard for an investigation, no, sir. The caretaker was more lax in his duties than he might be. He had not noticed any unauthorized entrants to the structure since the last services, three days ago.”

Kirk nodded. “Peter could have been placed—or transported—there at any time since then.”

“Correct. An analysis of the dust on the steps elicited no information as to who may have been responsible.”

“We'll have to find another way to crack this particular nut,” said Kirk. He walked to the cell door and buzzed the guard. “In the meantime, Peter—”

“You're
leaving
me here?”

“There's very little I can do about it, without creating an interplanetary incident.”

“But, Uncle Jim—”

“Don't ‘Uncle Jim' me. It doesn't become an adventurer like yourself to pout. Besides,” he added, slyly, “at least I'll know where you are, for a change.” The Nadorian guard opened the cell from without, looking the other way while Kirk and Peter hugged.

“The boy could be in grave danger,” said Spock, without overture, as they headed out. The security center was a recent adjunct to the Nadorian Royal Palace, a modern complex that seemed rather incongruous when compared to the original palace architecture.

“I'm well aware of that, Mr. Spock,” replied Kirk. He nodded to the officer in charge as he and Spock left the complex and began the walk down the hallway that connected the security center with the main body of the Royal Palace. “But to seize possession of Peter would be to create an incident which would finish the proposed Federation-Nadorian alliance.”

“The proverbial straw on the camel's back,” said Spock with a nod. “Still, are you convinced of the sincerity of Securitrix Llora's efforts to keep Peter safe?”

“I am,” said Kirk, “but that doesn't mean I haven't taken measures of my own.”

“The subcutaneous transponder?” asked Spock, softly.

“Exactly,” nodded Kirk. “With that under his skin, McCoy can monitor his medical signs and we can pull him out of there if an emergency arises.”

“Logical,” murmured Spock. “Do you think that measure sufficient?”

“Not by itself, but I want to talk to Commissioner Roget to see if—” Kirk's comment was interrupted by the beeping of his communicator.

“It's Commissioner Roget, Captain,”
came Uhura's voice.

“Commissioner,” said Kirk, “I was just about to call you—”

“Forgive me for interrupting, Captain,”
said Roget,
“but there's a small ceremony to install Regent Lonal as the planet's ruler. Can you attend?”

“If they want me there,” said Kirk. “Spock and I are still in the palace. Lonal didn't waste any time, did he?”

“That's a matter of some discussion,”
replied Roget, tightly.
“We're in the royal chambers.”

The guard at the other end of the hall admitted them to the palace grounds proper, and Kirk and Spock made their way to the royal chambers, where Kirk was somewhat surprised to find Regent Lonal, Counselors Docos and Hanor, Commissioner and Mrs. Roget, and the Lady Pataal gathered. There was an aura of somberness over the assemblage, and the Lady Pataal was openly weeping.

Kirk and Spock took their places at the rear of the group as an elderly dignitary entered. Kirk had seen depictions of his robes in murals in the church in which they had discovered Peter. Kirk's eye was caught by Commissioner Roget, who moved through the small group to them.

“Thank you for coming,” whispered Roget. “I wanted Starfleet to be represented here.” A small technical crew was setting up equipment to transmit the ceremony, to the rest of the planet, Kirk assumed.

“Is not this ascent to power rather sudden on the regent's part?” asked Spock.

“Under the circumstances, he didn't want to wait for a proper mourning period,” whispered Mrs. Roget, who had joined them. “He thought the people needed to know who was in charge.”

“And their enemies, too, I'll bet,” said Kirk. Regent Lonal sat before a huge portrait of Their Serene Highnesses, painted on the occasion of their coronation, Kirk surmised. A few seconds later, the transmitters hummed to life as Regent Lonal's image was projected around the planet.

“Citizens of Nador and our many allies,” began Lonal. He leaned a little into the transmitter, his eyes sharp and self-confident. Gone was the man who seemed uncertain about not only the responsibilities of his job, but his capability to execute them. Kirk wondered if, once he had tasted power, Regent Lonal had decided he wanted to keep it. It wouldn't have been the first time.