“Well, I’m no drama critic,” McCoy drawled, keeping up his end of the chitchat, “but I’d say you did the Bard proud. I’m sure the folks in the audience appreciated a break from their troubles. . . .”
Kirk was only half-listening. Milling bodies jostled him and blocked his line of sight, making it hard to scan the party for Lenore. Someone opened a bottle of cheap champagne, provoking shrieks and squeals of laughter as the bubbly sprayed over the heads of the crowd. Nobody seemed too concerned that the star of the production had yet to make an appearance. Kirk began to fear that she was going to be a no-show.
Is she hiding from me?
Then, just as he was starting to wonder how far he was willing to search for her, Lenore emerged from a dressing room to a round of copious applause. Her pale face was scrubbed of makeup and she had exchanged Propero’s monastic garb for a simple white sundress. She accepted the applause with a graceful bow, but her wary eyes immediately sought out Kirk. He could see, even if her jubilant costars couldn’t, the tension behind her poise. Her jaw was tight, her smile forced.
“And there’s our star,” Tamris announced. Grabbing Kirk and McCoy by their arms, she dragged them over to Lenore, clearing a path through the party. “Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, may I present the lovely and talented Lyla Kassidy.”
Kirk chose to overlook the alias for now. McCoy discreetly did the same. He hesitated, uncertain if he should acknowledge their history in front of Tamris and the others, but Lenore took the question out of his hands.
“There’s no need for introductions,” she said lightly. “I’ve met Captain Kirk before and the good doctor as well.”
“Really?” Tamris reacted with surprise. She turned toward the two men, confusion on her face. “You didn’t say.”
“I wasn’t sure it was the same person at first,” Kirk fibbed. “It’s been quite some time since I last saw you perform, Miss Kassidy.”
For the time being, he saw no reason to blow her cover. Being the daughter of Kodos, and a convicted murderer in her own right, was a lot to live down. He could hardly blame her for assuming a new identity and trying to put the past behind her, if that was indeed what she was doing here.
“Yes,” she agreed. “Quite some time.”
Despite a certain understandable guardedness, her expression and body language remained unreadable. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking and feeling. Did she blame him for her capture so many years ago? Did she still want to kill him for exposing her father?
“Your acting is as impressive as ever,” he said. “I’ve never forgotten your Lady Macbeth.”
In more ways than one, he thought.
“Thank you, Captain. Prospero is a fascinating part, with so many layers.” She turned her gaze on McCoy. “And you, Doctor, I see you’re still looking after our indomitable captain.”
“When he lets me.” McCoy eyed her carefully. “You seem . . . well.”
“I am, Doctor. Much more so, I think, than when we last met.”
The oblique exchanges frustrated Kirk, who would have preferred a franker discussion away from so many other eyes and ears. He felt like they were fencing in the dark, stiffly and clumsily. Even Tamris began to pick up on the underlying tension. Her brow furrowed and her antennae twitched as she glanced quizzically between the three humans, clearly attempting to decipher the situation.
Probably figures there’s some awkward romantic history here, Kirk guessed. And she wouldn’t be entirely wrong, although that was hardly the whole story or even the most important part. Kirk had run into plenty of old flames before, but few came with as much bloody and tragic baggage as Lenore Karidian. Death, madness, and betrayal had long ago eclipsed whatever tender moments they had shared. But if Tamris wants to suspect that this is just an uneasy reunion of exes, I can live with that. It’s probably simpler that way.
“I’m glad to hear it,” McCoy said before casually inserting himself between Tamris and Kirk and Lenore. “You know, Doctor, I’d really like to drop in on your medical center one last time before we have to head back to the Enterprise. Just to make certain that those new supplies got where they were going without any complications. I hate to tear you away from the party, but if you wouldn’t mind showing me the way . . . ?”
“Of course, Doctor,” Tamris replied, perhaps a tad reluctantly, and she made her apologies to Lenore. “If you’ll excuse us.” She glanced curiously at Kirk. “Are you coming with us, Captain?”
“I’ll be along shortly,” he promised, grateful for McCoy’s subtle intervention. “Miss Kassidy and I still have some catching up to do.”
“I figured as much,” McCoy said dourly as he steered Tamris away, giving Kirk and Lenore a little more privacy. Medical shoptalk was a ploy to distract Tamris from the cryptic conversation she’d just borne witness to. “As you know, it’s crucial that hemozinate be kept refrigerated at precisely the right temperature. The last thing you want is for it to freeze up. Let me tell you about the time that . . .”
His voice trailed off as they left, although McCoy looked back in concern before heading up the stairs to the stage above. No doubt he was already having second thoughts about leaving Kirk alone with a woman who had tried to kill him a couple of times, albeit two decades ago. Kirk wondered himself if he should be glad that there was still a crowd of partying cast members around them. A humanoid stagehand thrust a glass of champagne into Lenore’s hand, and Kirk recalled that he had first met her at a cocktail party on Planet Q. Little had he known at the time that she had just murdered an old friend of his, Thomas Leighton, less than an hour before. Leighton, along with Kirk, had been one of the last surviving eyewitnesses of the genocidal massacre on Tarsus IV—and one of the few people who might be able to identify “Anton Karidian” as Kodos the Executioner. That had made him a threat in Lenore’s eyes and a target for assassination.
“That was deftly done,” she remarked, watching McCoy depart with Tamris. “A neat bit of maneuvering. I suppose you have to be able to manage touchy situations if you want to be a physician. Develop a good bedside manner and all that.”
“Actually, that was surprisingly smooth for Bones. He’s not exactly known for his subtlety, although he has his moments, I suppose.” Kirk changed the subject back to her. “So, do you consider this a ‘touchy’ situation?”
She smiled wryly. “How could I not? Don’t get me wrong, Captain. I bear you no ill will, and I’m pleased to see you and Doctor McCoy looking so well, but you’ll surely concede that . . . well, we have a complicated history.”
“That’s one word for it.” He noticed that she hadn’t taken a sip of champagne yet. “You’re not drinking?”
She shook her head. “I avoid spirits these days. They disagree with me . . . and I prefer to keep a level head.” She offered him the glass. “Here. Have mine.” She chuckled darkly. “It’s not poisoned, I promise.”
“I’ll take your word for it, but perhaps I should keep a clear head as well.”
Declining the glass, he was about to say more when the charming Deltan actress who had portrayed Miranda came rushing up and threw her arms around Lenore. Her smooth cranium gleamed beneath the bright overhead lights. “Oh my stars,” she burbled, “did you hear that applause? They loved us . . . and you especially!”
“I heard them, Jyllia,” Lenore assured her younger costar. “And I’m certain that applause was for the entire company, including a certain incandescent Miranda.” She gently disengaged from the other woman’s embrace, always a somewhat tantalizing experience where Deltans were concerned, and nodded at Kirk. “I’m visiting with an old friend at the moment. Why don’t you run along and join the others? I’ll be by presently.”
“Promise?” Jyllia grinned at Kirk. “What did you think, Captain? Wasn’t Lyla the best Prospero ever?”
“I’ve never seen it done better,” he said sincerely. About that at leas
t there was no need to dissemble or couch his words. Lenore had brought depth and complexity to her performance, blending subtle shades of anger, bitterness, compassion, and wisdom into a seamless portrait of a world-weary mage tying up the loose ends of his life. “You had the audience under your spell.”
“You’re both shameless flatterers,” Lenore stated. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.” She foisted her untouched drink off on Jyllia. “Now, shoo, you capricious ‘daughter.’ Attend to your revels while I converse on deeper matters with our esteemed starship captain.”
“All right . . . but don’t be long!”
Jyllia scampered off to join a bunch of tipsy actors who were trying to get a conga line going. Argelian belly-dance music blared from the loudspeakers. Kirk frowned at the increasingly raucous celebration. This was hardly the ideal environment for a serious conversation.
“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
Lenore arched an eyebrow. “You’re not afraid to be alone with me, considering?”
Kirk thought about it, but he judged the risk to be minimal. She didn’t appear to be hiding any weapons under her dress, at least as far as he could tell. And while he wasn’t as young as he used to be, he liked to think he could still defend himself against an unarmed woman. As long as he kept his guard up, that was.
“Just keep your hands where I can see them,” he quipped.
“All right,” she said after a moment’s consideration. “Follow me.”
A back stairway led to another entrance onto the stage, which was now dark and empty, lit only by a pair of crescent moons overhead. The summer shower had passed, leaving the evening sky clear and the force field deactivated. Night had brought some relief from the heat, although it was still warm and muggy. Kirk followed Lenore up into the deserted amphitheater surrounding the stage until they reached the upmost tier, about as far as possible from the underground cast party. Although neither of them mentioned it, it wasn’t by accident that Kirk walked behind Lenore. He wasn’t quite ready to turn his back on her just yet.
“This should do,” she said, taking a seat. “I doubt we’ll be interrupted up here.”
“Or overheard.” Kirk glanced around, confirming that they pretty much had the “nosebleed seats” to themselves. He sat down beside her. “A much better venue, Miss Kassidy.”
“No need to be so formal, Jim. ‘Lyla’ will be fine.”
“Very well . . . Lyla.”
An awkward silence descended as Kirk tried to come up with a diplomatic way to frame the questions nagging at him. Was she truly cured of her madness? Had she ever repented of her crimes? And what exactly had brought her to Oyolo?
“So,” she prompted. “Here we are.”
“I admit I was startled to find you here,” he said. “Gave me a bit of a jolt.”
“Likewise,” she confessed. “I had heard, of course, that the Enterprise was in the vicinity and that you were involved in the peace negotiations, but it’s a big planet and a bigger solar system. It seemed unlikely that we would run into each other, so imagine my surprise when you showed up unexpectedly in the audience . . . and in the front row, no less. I fear I fell out of character briefly.”
“You recovered admirably. Your father would be proud.”
She flinched and Kirk felt a stab of guilt.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That was tactless of me.”
“No need to apologize. After everything I did back then, you’re entitled to a little revenge. I can’t blame you for hating me.”
“I don’t hate you,” he said, realizing it was true. “You were sick, damaged . . . unhinged by the knowledge of your father’s crimes. I pitied you and was horrified by what you’d done, but I never hated you. If anything, I was angry at myself for not seeing the truth soon enough.” A thought occurred to him. “So you do remember everything that happened? At the time, McCoy said that you wouldn’t recall any of it, that you were convinced that your father was still alive, performing throughout the galaxy.”
“I didn’t remember, not at first.” She shuddered and hugged herself despite the sultry night air. “It took years of therapy and treatment before I could cope with the memories, but I had to face them eventually . . . if I was ever going to move past them.”
“And have you?” he asked. “Moved on?”
“I’m not plotting to kill anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.” She looked him squarely in the eyes, as though he was another painful memory she needed to confront head-on. “I’ll always have to live with what I’ve done, but for the last several years, I’ve been trying to atone for my father’s crimes—and my own—by making a positive contribution to the universe.”
“As in volunteering for the Galactic Relief Corps?”
“Exactly,” she said. “I know it won’t bring any of my victims back to life, or erase what happened on Tarsus Four, but it helps me sleep at night.”
He wanted to believe her. Wasn’t this entire mission about forgiving past crimes and conflicts to forge a better, more peaceful future? If the Oyolu and the Pavakians could attempt to move beyond their bloody history, why couldn’t Lenore Karidian?
“I had no idea, about any of this,” he confessed. “To be honest, I’m feeling somewhat guilty myself at the moment.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “What for?”
“For losing track of you over the years and never bothering to see what had become of you.” He shook his head ruefully. “Truth to tell, I’ve never been good at looking backwards.”
Like with Khan, he thought. And David . . .
“Perhaps that’s just as well,” she said.
“Not always.”
The last few years had taught him some hard lessons about the dangers of ignoring the past. He’d always been so busy boldly going forward that he’d seldom stopped to consider the consequences of his actions, and that negligence had eventually cost him dearly. Letting sleeping dogs lie was all very well and good, at least in the short term, but those dogs sometimes came back to bite you when you least expected.
As with Lenore?
“There’s a difference, I think, between leaving the past behind and sweeping it under the rug. I’ve learned from experience that—” His communicator beeped, interrupting him. “Excuse me for a moment.” He flipped open the communicator. “Kirk here.”
“Lieutenant Hua from the Copernicus,” a voice identified itself. “Doctor McCoy asked me to remind you that we’re expected back on the Enterprise.”
Kirk assumed that McCoy also wanted to make sure that he was still alive and not lying dead with a dagger in his back. Bones had a point, though. They did need to get back to the ship. This fact-finding expedition to Oyolo had already lasted longer than intended.
“Acknowledged,” Kirk replied. “Tell Doctor McCoy I’ll be with you shortly.”
“Aye, sir. The shuttle is ready when you are.”
“Save me a seat. Kirk out.”
Lenore watched him put away the communicator. “Duty calls?”
“I’m afraid so.” He knew he should get going, but he found himself reluctant to depart. It felt as though he and Lenore had only just begun to sort out the unfinished business between them. He wanted to hear more about her new life, if only to convince himself that the lies and losses of yesterday were not the end of the story and that second chances were still possible. “Damn.”
“I know,” she said. “Strange to say, but I’m glad we had this chance to talk. A pity there isn’t more time.”
A sudden inspiration struck him.
“We’re having a diplomatic reception aboard the Enterprise later this evening. Why don’t you come aboard as my guest? It will give us a better opportunity to catch up . . . and perhaps lay some old ghosts to rest.”
“I’m not sure,” she said hesitantly. “Perhaps we should just be gratefu
l for this brief encounter and let it go at that.”
He thought he understood her reluctance. The last time he’d invited her aboard the Enterprise, he’d been laying a trap for her father, she’d been conspiring to kill him, and the whole ugly affair had ended in tears. Granted, that had been an earlier Enterprise, but he could see where returning to the scene of her crime might be daunting. Her father had died on the Enterprise at her own hands.
“No, you were right the first time,” he insisted. “We have twenty years to catch up on, and two decades of regrets to work through. One brief conversation isn’t enough.”
She regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you looking for closure, Jim?”
“Perhaps. And isn’t that what The Tempest is all about? Prospero needs to confront those who wronged him, and forgive them, before he can sail off into the sunset.”
“ ‘Gentle breath of yours my sails must fill,’ ” she recited, nodding, “ ‘or else my project fails, which was to please.’ ” She took a deep breath. “Perhaps I should board your mighty vessel again, if only for old time’s sake. But it sounds as though the good doctor is eager to depart and I’m hardly dressed for a formal reception.” She glanced down at her unassuming attire. “Plus, I really should join my cast mates in their celebration. I promised Jyllia.”
“No problem. The reception isn’t until twenty-one hundred, shipboard time. I’ll send the shuttle back to pick you up in time for the party.” She started to protest, but he held up a hand to fend off any objections. “It’s no bother. It will give us a chance to deliver another load of supplies to the relief effort here.”
“Well, if you’re not making a special trip on my account . . .”
“I suspect we’ll be making regular runs to Oyolo while the negotiations are under way. One more trip this evening is no hardship.” He shrugged. “Besides, as you’ll recall, I once diverted the Enterprise from its course to accommodate you.”