Crisis of Consciousness (2 page)

“Nothing so elegant as this.”

“If I may, Ambassador, I’ve studied the records of Maabas technological successes.” Hands clasped on his lap, Spock looked both effortlessly comfortable and yet somehow formal. The first officer participated in ceremonial meals as precisely as he did everything else: with such measured care that it seemed effortless. His contribution was usually intense attention and the interesting observation. “Your terraforming effort, which has transformed one of your planet’s lifeless moons into a thriving farming colony, is but one example of how you have surpassed Federation science.”

Pippenge rolled his head around. Palamas whispered in the captain’s ear that the motion was a cross between a bow and a shrug. “You’re most kind, Mister Spock. The first Vulcan I’ve met in person, and not at all what I expected.”

Spock’s right brow arched slightly upward. “Sir?”

“Oh, no, I meant no offense.” Pippenge was obviously flustered and embarrassed.

McCoy smirked and took a sip of water. “Offending Spock is a difficult task, Ambassador.”

“Indeed.” Spock nodded his agreement.

“I assure you . . . I only meant . . . we’re not used to dealing with aliens.” His eyes wide, Pippenge looked contrite. “Though, I must admit you do resemble the mythical phantoms that are said to haunt the ancient ruins of our planet.”

“Does he?” Grinning, the doctor gazed at Spock, bemused.

“Phantoms?” Kirk asked, also entertained by the notion of Spock as a specter.

“Old stories,” Pippenge explained. “Mostly, I think, told to keep people from exploring in unsafe areas. If one ventures too deep into the ancient ruins, a being of greenish pallor, an upswept brow, and pointed ears is said to destroy the individual with fire and lightning.”

“Interesting,” Spock said.

“Children’s legends,” the ambassador said. “Just folklore about demons who whisk you away when you do wrong. Again, I mean no offense, I assure you.”

“I understand,” Spock said agreeably.

“Meeting someone not born of your planet, even if you’re aware they exist, can be a life-changing event. Here you are, among hundreds of aliens,” Kirk pointed out. “You and your party are handling it with great grace.”

Pippenge was quiet. He shifted his weight, leaning one way in his seat, then the other, but said nothing for quite a time.

What must he be contemplating?
Kirk wondered. Since joining Starfleet, he’d always found meeting new life-forms exhilarating. Occasionally more than that, but always at least that.

“Thank you, Captain Kirk.” Pippenge hesitated and then said, “It has not been easy for my people. We know there are alien races on other planets, but they are not always friendly—most notably the one that pushed us from our homeworld. It was two millennia ago, but we remember. In the time since, we’ve isolated ourselves, and while we thought it was for our protection, it was also to our detriment. I think we are now ready to travel again among the stars.”

“More aliens will come to Maabas now,” McCoy said. “Are your people ready for that?”

That was one of Starfleet Command’s worries as well. However, the Federation Council was untroubled. Their opinion was that a culture intelligent enough to make breakthroughs in science, to accept the Federation as an ally, could be eased into other frontiers, even ones alien to themselves.

“Most are, or we’d not have signed the treaty.” The ambassador’s quick reply made Kirk think this was one of Pippenge’s political talking points. Likely many Maabas shared Dr. McCoy’s concerns.

“Some aren’t as eager,” Kirk said.

Absentmindedly, the ambassador grabbed a dark strand of his hair and stroked it nervously. “No group is all of one mind, Captain.” He chittered happily. “But we are ready to move forward.” Standing, Pippenge thrust back the loose arm of his official robes and raised a fork as one might raise a glass. “Onward to the future.”

“Here, here,” McCoy said. The
Enterprise
officers in attendance applauded. The Maabas officials sang in a cheerful tone. Pippenge attempted both, and the captain couldn’t help but smile.

There was much to celebrate. Most treaty negotiations didn’t go as smoothly as they had with the Maabas. They’d asked for very little from the Federation: trade, protection, and cultural and scientific exchange. In return, the UFP wanted much the same. The previous surveys and exchanges, which had given Lieutenant Palamas the information in her report, had shown that the Maabas had great intellectual flexibility. In addition to their unique scientific research, their philosophy dovetailed nicely with that of the Federation. They were a united planet with a democratically elected government, there had been no wars since they colonized their planet, and they shared many of the same principles as the Federation.

Kirk raised his glass to make his own toast, but just as he was taking a breath, the door to the corridor slid open. Skent, the missing Maabas attendant, entered with an
Enterprise
security officer close behind.

The captain rose to greet them. “Mister Baumgartner?”

The guard frowned. “He was found on engineering deck, sir. In a restricted section.”

Pippenge rose to confront his comrade. “Is this true?”

“An error,” Skent said sheepishly. “I was merely exploring . . .”

The ambassador puckered his lips. “I see.”

“A puckering of the lips is like a human shake of the head,” Palamas whispered to Kirk. He hadn’t noticed she’d joined him. The captain nodded his appreciation. This
was
just the sort of understanding of alien body language he needed from his A&A officer.

“Ambassador, you and your aide were also seen on the engineering deck.” Kirk had seen the report earlier, but thought little of it. Guests could get turned around on a ship as big as the
Enterprise
. One occurrence could be easily dismissed. Two, however, made the hairs on the back of Kirk’s neck stand up.

Was Pippenge displeased with Skent because he was where he shouldn’t be, or because he was
found
where he shouldn’t be?

“He had this on him.” Baumgartner handed Kirk a small device that fit into his palm but had no obvious screen or method of input.

The captain rolled the object around in his hand, then showed it to the ambassador. “Can you explain this, sir?”

“A scanning tool and recording device,” Pippenge said.

Spock rose and joined the captain to his right. “A tricorder.”

“Designed to interact with our computerized implants, yes.” The ambassador was contrite and glared down at Skent. “Explain yourself, please.”

“My brother is in the Science Directorate. He asked me to record anything of interest,” the attendant said, unwilling to meet Pippenge’s eyes.

“On the
Enterprise
?” Kirk asked.

“Anywhere.”

The captain pressed his lips into a thin line and wondered if that would be taken as a sign of acceptance by the Maabas delegation. If so, perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t have evidence that there was any malicious intent.

“Mister Spock?” He handed the device to his science officer. “Please review the data collected and make sure nothing of a sensitive nature has been recorded.”

Spock nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“If you wish to satisfy your own justice, Captain, I understand,” Pippenge said. “Though I assure you, there will be repercussions for Skent’s rude actions.”

This was just the kind of kink that Starfleet didn’t want in the relationship between the Maabas and the Federation. And, unless the device was a danger to his ship, there probably was no reason to be concerned. “We have a saying, Ambassador.” Kirk motioned them all back toward the dinner table. “ ‘No harm, no foul.’ ”

Pippenge bowed. “You are most gracious hosts.”

Amiable smiles and mild discussion followed until the hour grew late and the ambassador and his party excused themselves.

As Kirk stood to leave as well, Palamas approached. “Thank you for inviting me, Captain. It was an interesting evening.”

“I appreciated your attention to detail tonight, Lieutenant. Good night.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said pleasantly, and joined Uhura, who waited for her near the door.

“May I walk you back to your cabins, ladies?” Scotty approached them, and the three left together.

As the table was being cleared by yeomen, Spock approached Kirk. “I shall have a report on the abilities and contents of this device by the morning, sir.”

The captain knew better than to dispute the timing of his first officer’s sleep schedule or the prioritization of his work/personal-life balance. “Thank you, Mister Spock.”

“Drink, Jim?” McCoy asked.

Kirk nodded. “I was thinking the same.”

THE DOCTOR POURED
himself another glass and held the bottle toward Kirk, who shook his head. “One’s enough.”

“Since when?” McCoy had loosened the neck on his dress uniform enough that the black undershirt showed through a V shape he’d opened over his chest.

“I’m on duty.” The captain cradled the glass in his hand, sipped the drink just to keep nursing it, then placed it on the doctor’s desk.

“Uh-oh, I know that look.”

“What look?” His brows jutting upward, Kirk glanced at McCoy.

“The something’s-bothering-me-but-I’m-not-sure-what look.”

“Please,” Kirk scoffed, but hesitated before continuing. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

The doctor took another sip of his brandy. “I’m sorry. I mistook you for Jim Kirk.”

At that the captain chuckled. “Am I that obvious?”

“Only on even-numbered stardates.” McCoy topped up his snifter even though there was more yet to savor. “Tell your bartender all about it.”

The doctor could be a good sounding board. Kirk lifted his glass and took another small sip, explaining, “Over the year the Federation and the Maabas have been negotiating, the main sticking point was the building of an orbital space station which could resupply and repair space vessels.”

“Why was that a problem?”

Kirk shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t want to work on ‘vessels of war,’ despite assurances that Starfleet’s mission was one of peace and exploration.”

“Even Vulcan has spaceports where a starship can dock.” The doctor sighed and shook his head. “If you can out-pacifist a Vulcan . . .”

“Suddenly, they change their mind and in a matter of a few weeks have signed a treaty. Why?”

“Reasoned debate caused a political shift?” Swiveling back and forth in his chair, McCoy frowned and offered a shrug as he speculated. “Some internal need for a specific resource they lack, which we have? An external threat of some kind?”

Pointing directly at the doctor, Kirk nodded. “That.”

“Then why don’t we know about it?”

The captain shook his head and looked down into the glass he lifted from the desk. “I don’t know, Bones.”

The bosun’s whistle rang out, jarring him from further thought. “
Bridge to Captain Kirk
.”

He leaned toward the desk’s comm panel and thumbed the button. “Kirk here.”

“
Now entering the Maabas star system, sir.
”

“Ahead of schedule, Mister Sulu. Slow to impulse. Standard approach. Let me know when we make orbit.”

“
Aye, sir
.”

“Kirk out.”

When the doctor was sure Kirk had switched off the comm, he continued. “What’s it got to do with the Maabas delegation snooping? Because that’s what’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” It was true that it bothered him, but he wasn’t even sure it should. There were such things as innocent mistakes. The captain liked everything to add up, and with the Maabas, not everything did. “You remember the story Pippenge told?”

“Which?” McCoy capped the bottle, walked to the cabinet behind the desk, and stowed it away. “The man isn’t lacking for stories.”

Most ambassadors weren’t
, the captain thought. “The mythological demons that look like Spock.”

The doctor laughed and after a couple drinks the sound was more throaty than usual. “You think Vulcans visited this planet years ago, threatening sightseers and correcting grammar?”

With a chuckle, Kirk shook his head. “Not exactly. But the Romulans . . . ?” He let the sentence trail off, and the notion hung between them.

“Not their general area of influence,” McCoy said thoughtfully, nursing his drink.

“ ‘Demons,’ ” the captain quoted Pippenge. “What’d he say? Upswept brow, pointed ears?”

“Yes.” The doctor snickered. “They destroy you with fire and lightning.”

“That could describe a weapon,” Kirk said. “Or a transporter.”

“You’re reaching.”

“Deep Space 5 is near the Romulan Neutral Zone.” The captain tilted the glass toward himself and watched the liquid contents run against the bowl as he set it right again. “A Federation-Maabas alliance would be a concern for the Romulans.” He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, just as the bosun’s whistle sounded again.

“Bridge to Captain Kirk.”
Spock’s voice this time.

Quickly he hit the comm button. Sulu’d had the bridge. For his first officer to be calling, something had changed. “Kirk here. What’s wrong, Mister Spock?”

“We’re tracking an unknown vessel on an intercept course.”
The Vulcan’s voice was calm as usual, but had a serious tinge.

“ETA?”

“
Four minutes, present speed
.
”

“Go to yellow alert. I’m on my way.”

Kirk put his glass down on McCoy’s desk and twisted toward the exit. “We’ve got company.”

The doctor followed him toward the door. “Romulans?” McCoy called as the captain sped up the corridor.

“Unknown vessel, Spock said, so let’s hope not.”

THE LIFT TO
THE
BRIDGE
seemed too slow, but Kirk knew it was the same speed as always. When the doors slid open, the captain was shocked, but not surprised, to see Pippenge standing just outside the turbolift entrance. The security officer, his weapon already drawn, pulled the ambassador out of Kirk’s way.