"I have considered your words, Captain Kirk," he said, "and find I don't believe a one of them." His voice rose angrily. "Why should those scientific cretins at Starfleet suddenly have the desire, or the sense, to request my services? Why should they now wish to subject me to honor instead of ridicule?"
Kirk took a deep breath. "I think you know the answer to that, Delminnen. Evidence of your . . . experimentation in this system has reached command levels. Naturally, everyone is anxious to admire the development which—"
"I thought as much," Delminnen said. His smirk turned into a wide, unfriendly smile. "I just wanted to hear it out loud. Admire pagh! They want to steal my knowledge! They always take what they can't understand." He all but snarled into the pickup.
"You can tell those mathematical morons what they can do with their honors, Captain. And if you don't leave me and my sister alone, you'll find yourself the recipient of a demonstration of just how admirable my work here is."
Kirk stared quietly at the suddenly blank screen. "So much," he murmured softly, "for diplomacy. What do you think of our reluctant guest, Mr. Spock?"
The first officer considered. "A difficult speciman. I can understand how such a psychological type could produce peculiar theories, but it eludes me completely as to how he could translate those theories into anything practical. Yet it seems he has. We must handle him the same way one would store a photon torpedo with a sensitive detonator—forcefully but with great care."
"I concur. Order a security landing party to stand by in the Main Transporter Room."
"Armed, Captain?"
"Armed."
Spock rose and turned to leave, adding, "Then I think it best that I instruct those chosen myself, so that everyone is fully cognizant of the difficulties involved."
As the lift doors closed behind the science officer, Kirk turned to the still-silent McCoy. "What's your professional opinion of Delminnen, Bones?"
"You mean, does he appear sane?"
Kirk gave a twisted smile. "Nothing so obvious. What I want to know is . . . is he sane enough? Or is he likely to go off the deep end when we knock on his front door and ask him to accompany us?"
"Well, he's arrogant, suspicious, and possibly a borderline paranoid, but I don't think he's homicidal, Jim. And his arrogance is rather reassuring."
Kirk frowned in puzzlement.
"He's too certain of his own importance to be suicidal," McCoy explained.
"I hope you're right. In any case, you'll have an opportunity to make a firsthand diagnosis any minute. You're coming down with Spock and me."
"Me? What for?"
"Our orders say to utilize all necessary means to bring Delminnen and his sister back with us. If he becomes violent and we have to be less than tactful with him, I want you along to pick up the pieces." Kirk pushed against the arms of the chair and sighed resignedly. "Let's get it over with."
"Captain!"
Kirk turned from the lift to look sharply back at the helm. "What is it, Mr. Sulu?"
The helmsman was working hastily with a bank of instruments that had been silent the entire journey from Babel. They were all suddenly active.
"Detectors indicate another vessel emerging from the planet's shadow."
Kirk rushed back to his seat. "Identification?"
"Not possible yet."
"Mr. Arex, have you a fix on her?"
"Yes, Captain," came the gentle, whistling reply. "It is a capital ship, apparently non-Federation in origin."
"Full magnification on the forward scanners, Mr. Sulu."
The screen lit up, giving a view of the slowly turning gas giant. Suddenly the intruder seemed to leap forward, to show an irregular, though clearly artificial, shape outlined against the brilliant hues of the planet's dense atmosphere.
"That's a Klingon cruiser, Jim," McCoy declared.
"I can see that, Bones," Kirk muttered. "Mr. Sulu, sound red alert. Mr. Arex, align phasers to—"
"Receiving transmission from the Klingon ship, Captain," Uhura interrupted.
"Acknowledge their signal, Lieutenant." He turned an expectant gaze to the viewscreen.
The Klingon who appeared there was seated in his counterpart of Kirk's command chair, but his height was evident nonetheless. His attitude was one of relaxed attention—in fact, he very nearly slouched. Except for the tight set of his lips and the churning one might detect beneath unusually bushy brows, he appeared almost friendly. And when the image had fully resolved at both ends of the transmission, he even smiled.
"Well, well . . . it is true what is said about the false size of the universe. I have been expecting and dreading such a meeting for many years.
"How have you been, Jim?"
A soft sigh of air on the bridge came as several jaws dropped simultaneously.
"He called you 'Jim,' " McCoy finally whispered in astonishment. "You two know each other?" But Kirk continued to stare at the screen, ignoring the question.
"Hello, Kumara. It is you?"
"It is indeed none other, old friend. A strange place, after so many years, for a reunion, is it not?"
"Jim!" McCoy was fairly dancing with curiosity.
"Not now, Bones," Kirk replied firmly. His voice rose as he addressed the attentive figure on the screen. "Yes, it's a strange place for a reunion, Commander . . . it is 'Commander' now, isn't it?"
The figure smiled again and nodded.
"In fact, it's such a strange place that I wonder what you're doing here. This system is far off Imperial patrol routes."
The Klingon commander shifted in his seat. "A reasonable question, Jim. One which I might equally well ask of you. But since you inquired first . . . I have been instructed by the Imperial Resources Bureau to survey this system with regard to locating salvageable resources. While I will concede its greater proximity to the Federation sphere, you will recognize that it has not been formally claimed by your government. Therefore, we have as much right here as you.
"You are welcome to whatever you may find, though. With the slight exception of the sun-forsaken bit of sand you now orbit, our explorations have proven singularly unprofitable. There is practically nothing here worthy of Imperial attention . . . doubly true when one considers the distance to the nearest Imperial world.
"But enough of business!" The smile widened. "It is good to see you again, Jim. I invite you to share a container of Gellian vitz with me. Would you do me the honor of joining me aboard, say, ten of your minutes from now? Or, if you prefer, I can come aboard the Enterprise."
Kirk smiled in return. "No, your ship will be fine. The honor is mine, Kumara. I accept."
"I am gratified. Till then . . ."
Kirk's smile held until the Klingon commander's image had vanished. His expression turned grim, and he snapped at the chair pickup.
"Transporter Room—stand by to transport landing party. Mr. Spock?"
"Here, Captain," the reply came.
"Red alert was sounded because there's a Klingon cruiser in the area. All personnel are to transport down with one hand on their sidearms."
"Very good, Captain."
Kirk clicked off, and McCoy had to run to reach the elevator with him. "Why the rush, Jim? You can't possibly expect to get Delminnen and his sister off-moon in time to make your appointment with this Kumara."
Kirk's tone was low, curt. "Listen, Bones, Kumara may just be the best starship commander the Klingons have. You can bet your precision nerve welder the Emperor didn't send him this far from base to play prospector! I'll also bet that hypothetical bottle of Gellian vitz he mentioned that he's here because Klingon intelligence got wind of that Federation prospector's report. They're prospecting, all right—and if they get their hands on Delminnen, they'll mine him for all he's worth and they won't be too concerned about putting him back together when they've finished with him."
McCoy hesitated momentarily. "Jim, I asked you if you knew this Kumara . . . personally, I meant. You waved me off. Where do you know each other from
so well that you immediately call each other by first names?"
"Is it that important, Bones?"
"Well, now, I don't know, Jim," McCoy said evenly. "When two enemy captains display a certain degree of familiarity unheard of in previous—"
"All right," Kirk broke in, turning to face the doctor. "Yes, Kumara and I know each other on an informal basis. Did you ever hear of the FEA, Bones?"
McCoy considered. "No . . . no, wait a second. The Friendship Exchange Action, wasn't it?"
Kirk nodded. "Remember what it was about?"
"Sure—it was well documented in all the psychology journals. Was set up during one of those brief friendly periods between the Federation and the Klingon Empire. Some bright medical theorist thought it might promote understanding between peoples if academy cadets from both cultures spent some time in close contact with one another. The program was limited to command candidates, if I remember right."
"It was and you do," Kirk acknowledged as the lift doors slid apart.
"Do what?" Spock inquired politely, and Kirk was forced to explain as he and McCoy entered the Transporter Room.
"Gentlemen, Kumara is one of the sharpest, smartest individuals I've ever met, and we can be thankful the Empire hasn't another dozen like him. He's also the only Klingon I've encountered who wasn't so puffed up with his own importance that he ignored his opponent's capabilities. And he expects us to believe he's here for casual 'exploration'!"
"Begging your pardon, Captain," Spock commented, "but this still doesn't explain how you come to address each other in so familiar a fashion."
"Oh, that. We were roommates, Mr. Spock." He led them into the transporter alcove.
Five armed crew members were already there, each standing at the ready on his respective disk. One small, dark-skinned man saluted as the three officers stepped up into the alcove.
"Ensign Gemas and landing party reporting ready, sir."
"Very good, Ensign." Kirk looked at the waiting group. "We may have to move fast . . . be prepared for anything."
Short, confident nods; a few muffled "ayes."
Kirk turned to face the console. "Scotty, I want you to stay with us at all times. Keep the transporter energized. If I'm right about our obliging visitor, we may have to come aboard in a hurry."
"No need to worry, Captain. I'm not movin' until you're all back right where you are now."
"Good. Try to set us down about fifty meters from the surface transmitter coordinates . . . in some cover, if information is sufficient to permit it."
Scotty manipulated the instrumentation, and Kirk saw him waver and disappear. He wondered if an armed Klingon would replace the tense figure of his chief engineer.
The security-team members were already drawing their phasers as they materialized. They landed light-footed, owing to the weak gravity, breathing short and fast in the thin air. A few stars shone through the violet sky, and the immense globe of Theta Draconis Five hung like a baleful candy eye above the far horizon.
A few scraggly, ground-hugging shreds of greenish-brown resembling dying kelp shivered in the lee of well-worn boulders, offering the only defiance to the terribly-near sterility of naked space.
Sixteen eyes studied the unimpressive surroundings until they were satisfied as to its harmlessness. McCoy pointed to the east.
"There it is, Jim."
A low, rambling group of single-story interconnecting building modules thrust out of the sand nearby. They clustered near a huge metallic bubble like termites around a bloated queen.
Kirk sniffed at the odd, unsatisfying atmosphere. "Maybe I'm wrong," he muttered. "I hope so." He took a step toward the buildings.
Displaced air let out a soprano scream as a blue beam passed near his right shoulder. It struck a boulder behind, sending rock splinters flying. One crewman clutched at his shoulder as he spun to the sand.
"Take cover! Spread out and return fire!" Kirk yelled, even as he dove for the nearest clump of rocks. Spock was at his side, his phaser out and firing as he hit the ground. McCoy had hold of the injured crewman's legs and was pulling him to shelter, analyzing the man's surface wound at the same time.
Kirk peered around the left side of a hunk of basalt. The source of the beams was the near bank of a dry streambed. Silhouettes of the beam-wielders were readily identifiable. Phaser beams began to strike the edge of the bank, fusing sand and gravel and sending rock fragments flying. The Klingon landing party was well protected.
"It would appear that your initial estimate of Commander Kumara was correct, Captain," Spock observed as his beam singed the hair of a too-anxious Klingon.
"Yes. Still, it's not like him to assume a formal defensive position like this and slug it out. More likely we surprised him just as his party set down. Spock, if this fight goes against him, I don't think he would hesitate to destroy the Delminnens to keep them and their device from falling into non-Imperial hands. I'm going to try to get them clear of that complex before the Klingons decide to blow it to bits. Give me all the covering fire you can."
There was a pause while the instructions were relayed to the other members of the landing party. Then they unleashed a furious burst of phaser firepower as Kirk dashed for the nearest wall of the modular cluster.
Something warm went by his right ear, humming like a wasp. He dove, rolled, and came up behind the wall of the outermost structure. A quick glance around the edge revealed that the Klingons were fully occupied with the rest of the Enterprise's landing party.
Reaching up, Kirk felt his ear. A blister was beginning to form, so near had the beam been. But he still had all of him.
Sliding along the wall in an attempt to remain concealed from those inside as well as everyone outside, he finally reached a thick window. It took a moment to make the proper adjustment to his hand phaser. Then, using it like a torch, he carefully melted down the window plastic.
A cautious peek showed the interior of a comfortable, denlike room. It was dark and deserted. Resetting his phaser on stun, he put one leg over the sill and eased himself into the room. It was empty.
Kirk took out his communicator and flipped it open. Suddenly someone screamed.
Sound, left; door, closed; reaction—that which is quickest rather than that which is planned.
The door opened easily. At the far end of the half-laboratory, half-living quarters, Kumara was supporting an unconscious Van Delminnen while wrestling with a struggling woman. Her features were softer, less aquiline than Delminnen's, but the resemblance was unmistakable.
Kumara was juggling his communicator along with the two bodies. Looking up, he saw Kirk framed in the doorway and froze.
Thawing was rapid. "Up, fool," he shouted into his communicator. "Beam us up or it's your head! Beam—" He was forced to drop his communicator in order to hold on to Char Delminnen.
Kirk was running toward the trio as they began to fade. "Scotty—up!" was all he had time to yell into his own communicator.
On board the Enterprise, Scott heard the brief command and spoke to his assistant. "Don't stand there like you've seen Loch Nessie, mon—let's get him up!" Sure hands commenced rapid manipulation of precision controls.
The figure of Kirk began to scintillate at the edges. At the same time, he threw himself, arms outstretched toward the three figures. Confused energies interacted in a brilliant display of condensed high-power pyrotechnics.
The reaction on board the Enterprise was smaller but no less spectacular. Lights that should have remained dark flashed brightly on the transporter console. Gauges which ought to have stayed quiescent suddenly danced as if afflicted by a mechanical Saint Vitus' dance. Sparks arched indecently from switch to closed contact and back again.
Scott's mind was in turmoil, but he held himself steady as he adjusted, realigned, and compensated, glancing nervously from the console to the still-vacant transporter alcove.
"Come on, Captain," he whispered tightly, "come on."
He shoved one switch forward another
notch. Four jumbled, indistinct shapes began to form within the alcove. They flickered in and out like boat lights in a fog.
"Engineering," he called to the open directional pickup, "Main Transporter Room, Chief Scott speaking. I want all the power transporter circuits will carry—or you'll be carryin' it with your hands next time!"
He shoved the crucial control into the red. As he did so, the four shapes grew more distinct, almost materialized.
The control hit the far end of the slot.
Metal ran like water, and intricate components turned to blobs of expensive slag. Tiny popping sounds came from within the console's base.
Kirk and a young woman solidified. Simultaneously, the other two indistinct images abruptly disappeared. Kirk wavered, his leg muscles rippling uncontrollably; then he collapsed to the floor, rolling out of the alcove. The woman fell on top of him.
"Captain!" Waving at the acrid smoke which now curled about the ruined console, Scott staggered around its edge, moving to a wall intercom. "Sick Bay . . . corpsman to the Main Transporter Room, on the double! Chief Kyle?"
"Here, sir," came the reply.
"Stand by second-level transporter . . . we've still got a landing party on the surface."
"Standing by, sir."
Spock studied the ravine ahead, turned, and called back to the rest of the team. "Cease firing . . . they've transported clear." He turned his attention toward the cluster of structures as a figure wriggled up alongside him.
"You think they've given up the fight, Spock?" wondered McCoy, his attention likewise riveted on the buildings.
"The fight . . . yes," commented Spock unsurely. "The war . . . I don't know. I wish I knew as much about this Klingon Kumara as the captain seems to. He may already be back on board . . . someone used a communicator a little while ago."
A tremendous explosion caused both men to bury their heads in the sand. Bits of metal and plastic and other non-metallic debris, mixed with sand and rock, rained down on them.
They looked up. When the dust and smoke cleared, they saw a small crater where the metal bubble and its attendant structures had stood.