sagging of his knees.
“I don’t think I want to know,” he said in his best manner of long-suffering.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Would you call that an emotional display to end all emotional displays, Doctor?”
“In a pig’s eye,” McCoy murmured happily.
Kirk caught Spock’s nod. “Captain, Mr. Scott.”
“Of course.” Kirk settled his shoulders and nodded toward the intercom. Tell him to sit tight. We’ll—”
But the intercom burst into life, together with alert signals. “Intruder alert,” Scott’s voice said, “intruder alert Planet shields down. Trace of planet transporter signal indicates target within this ship. Security, institute Class Two search. All personnel, yellow alert Scott out.”
Spock traded glances with Kirk, and Kirk waved him to the intercom. “Spock here,” the Vulcan said. “Cancel intruder alert, Mr. Scott. I am responsible.”
“Spock! Where in the name—? Yes, sir. You’re aboard? Hell’s breakin’ loose. Gabble of communications. Planet says Omne’s been murdered, guards shot up. Romulan ships in an uproar. Their Commander is overdue. Sub-Commander S’Tal’s makin’ noises like we might have somethin’ to do with it. Told me to produce her or else. Planet’s looking for her, says she shot up guards, maybe Omne. One report says she was seen with—Captain Kirk. Hysterical down there. Stark ravin’.” Scott sighed audibly. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Spock.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott,” Spock said. “On my way—”
Kirk put a hand on his arm. “Scotty,” he said into the intercom. “Tell the crew I’m alive.”
“Captain! Jim? Jim!” Deep breath. “Aye, sir.”
“That’s the spirit, Scotty. Tell ‘em I’ll take-complaints—later.
“Aye, sir. I’ll tell ‘em—what suits me.” Sudden break in the grinning voice. “Queen to King’s Level Four, Captain.”
Kirk glanced at James, thinking how well that code had served them before, how little it would serve them against this. “Knight takes Queen, Mate,” Kirk answered.
“Aye,” Scott said with satisfaction.
“Hold the fort, Scotty. Five minutes. On my way. Kirk out.” He turned to the others, tuning Scott’s voice out in the background, and nearly bumped into McCoy, who had repossessed his wits and his medical scanner, had been running it over his back.
“You’re not going anywhere,” McCoy said flatly.
“Later, Bones. Prescribe some clothes out of your famous medical stores. Then see to Spock.” He saw protests rising from McCoy and the Vulcan. “Don’t argue,” he said in a voice that didn’t permit it. McCoy considered it anyway, shook his head, finally headed for the cabinet where he rather sheepishly kept clothes for Kirk and Spock in his private office, always complaining that he couldn’t keep Kirk in shirts. Commander, a script,” Kirk said, shifting his attention to her, thinking as he went. “I was kidnapped by Omne and company. You rescued me. The Empire is not bought with cheap tricks. Truce between honorable enemies against cowardly deception and effort to make you prisoner, too. Self-defense. Mr. Spock also discovered plot, challenged Omne to single combat by customs of this planet. Omne committed suicide when beaten. Now we could both shoot up the joint in retaliation and to stamp out future conspiracies, but we won’t. Virtues of Empire and Federation. We’ll ram the Prime Directive down their throats. No objection if they want to set up shop here as a refuge, but peaceful purposes only, or we’ll quarantine and cut off trade. Joint announcement, you and me. We’ll quibble over who gets the best lines. How about it?”
“Script?” she said with a slow smile. “It is the simple truth.”
“That’s the best kind,” he grinned.
“It is not, however, the complex truth,” Spock said. “There is still Omne. It leaves him armed and dangerous, his organization set up to function as a trust on death or disappearance. Perhaps we should require evacuation, at least dismantling of weapons and shields.”
McCoy put a pair of pants in Kirk’s hands and Kirk bent to pull them on under the robe. “That’s never been very effective,” he said, “and we’d have to shoot ‘em up to some extent to do it. They have a right to defend what they’ve built here. A lot of it is of value. Research. Trade. Refuge—political criminals, even other criminals, perhaps. Remember Australia. No. But we may drive Omne out of this nest. I have a feeling that he was a loner in most of his evil purposes. Hard for him to function if he’s dead. And hard to show up alive without revealing his process. Whereas we can’t do a foot-by-foot search, even if they’d let us, for the same reason.”
McCoy handed him a shirt and took the robe, and he felt the doctor’s hand tracing the injuries under the spray film as he pulled the shirt over his head.
“Jim—”
Kirk turned to answer the pain in the eyes. “It’s all right, Bones. I was—fixed—by an expert. Enough painkiller to hold a horse. It’ll hold me till there’s time for the real expert.”
“News for you, Jim. Any painkiller you had is wearing off fast.”
Kirk’s eyes admitted to McCoy that it was not news, but hid it from the Vulcan. “Not bad yet,” he said firmly and turned back. “Commander, you and I had better get going before your ‘Tal develops a nervous trigger finger.”
He has been known to be impetuous,” she said and moved toward the door.
Spock started for it, too. Kirk stopped him with a look. “You’re out of uniform, Mr. Spock.”
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. “I hardly think that matters. However, I might point out that so are you.” He looked pointedly at Kirk’s bare feet.
“Well—I’ll keep ‘em off the viewscreen,” he grinned. “No, Spock,” he said firmly. “Sickbay for you. You’re to let McCoy do his stuff, and do your Vulcan act. We still have problems to settle after we call off the war.” He looked at James. “Will you see that he does it? And I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to explain to the Doctor, too.”
I’ll take care of it,” James said. “And—stay out of sight.”
Kirk nodded to him soberly. “Thank you.” He met Spock’s eyes, saw reluctant acceptance, turned to the door. “Commander?”
She let him guide her through the door.
CHAPTER XX
Spock sat up. James slapped his face.
Again,” Spock commanded, “harder.”
James set his jaw and put muscle into it. Again. Again.
Spock caught his wrist, remembering to be gentle. “Enough. Thank you. I am revived.”
McCoy swept the scanner over him. “But not recovered. “You didn’t stay under long enough, Spock. Those ribs and knees and hands are just beginning to knit. And the internal injuries—I hate to complain about a miracle. Anybody else’d be dead, but—”
“No miracle is involved, Doctor. Merely a useful technique. It will be sufficient. The process will continue at a slower rate.”
“Pain reading is still high enough to kill anybody.”
“I am functional, Doctor, and I have functions to perform. You will start on James now, and you will also run the standard identity checks.”
McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought his identity was not in question. He said you linked—”
“His identity is not,” Spock said. “Whether we can conceal or disguise it is.”
“I don’t follow you,” McCoy said.
Spock looked at James, then back to the Doctor. “The Enterprise cannot have two captains. But perhaps surgical alterations, special entry to Star Fleet with another background, or a political position-special ambassadorial—”
“Never work, Spock—records on every molecule of him, voice prints—”
“That should do it,” Kirk said. “Take the con, firmed. James?”
James nodded. “Needs to be established. Might also give us a clue to the process. Doctor?”
