Foul Deeds Will Rise

by Greg Cox

  Kirk let Riley split these hairs.

  “Again, it’s premature to discuss hypotheticals, but I can assure you that the Oyolu delegation have no intention of departing the ship at this juncture. Minister A’Barra insists that he remains fully committed to the peace process.”

  “Despite the brutal murder of his enemy,” Gast said sarcastically. “How magnanimous of him.”

  “And what are your views on the peace talks, Colonel?” Kirk asked. “Do you agree with your government’s decision to continue the negotiations, even after what happened?”

  She paused before answering.

  “My instructions are clear,” she said eventually. “And it is what the general would have wanted. I feel it is my duty to finish what he started, if it is at all possible. You will forgive me, however, if I am rather more skeptical of making peace with the Oyolu than I was before.”

  That was hardly a ringing endorsement, Kirk observed, but it was probably the best they could hope for under the circumstances. At least the Pavakians weren’t walking away from the table just yet. But what if one or more Oyolu did turn out to be guilty? Then the cease-fire was likely to be as good as dead.

  “It speaks well of Pavak,” Riley said, “that your people remain intent on peace even after suffering this terrible tragedy. And I have to agree with you. We owe it to the general to see that his death was not in vain.”

  Nicely put, Kirk thought. Better that Tem became a martyr to peace than yet another cause for conflict. They needed to break the cycle of revenge and retaliation. “And you can count on us to ensure your own personal safety while you remain aboard the Enterprise. I’ll have security assigned to you for your personal protection.”

  “A wise, if belated, precaution,” she said. “I don’t suppose such concern would also extend to providing me with a weapon?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Kirk said. Given the tensions aboard, and Gast’s own conviction that the Oyolu were behind the assassination, providing her with a phaser sounded like an incredibly bad idea. “But our security forces are well-equipped to keep you safe.”

  “And in one piece, I hope.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Unlike General Tem.”

  Kirk remembered Tem’s severed arm lying on the carpet. He suspected the grisly image was burned into Gast’s brain as well, probably for the rest of her life. One more not-so-secret pain, from the very recent past, to carry into her future. That the rest of Tem had presumably been vaporized was possibly a mercy.

  “That’s the basic idea, yes,” Kirk said. “The general’s stateroom remains a crime scene, by the way, but please let me know if there are any materials related to the negotiations that you need to retrieve from his quarters. Commander Chekov can arrange for a security detail to accompany you on a supervised visit to the site.”

  “Thank you, Captain, but I believe I already have everything I require to deal with the Oyolu. Except, as I said, a weapon.”

  “Which will not be necessary, Colonel,” Kirk said. “You have my word on that.”

  “Very well. It seems I have little choice but to place my safety, and the search for the general’s murderer, in your hands, at least for the moment.” She rose, somewhat unsteadily, from her seat. Kirk got the impression that she was holding herself together through sheer force of will. “Now then, if you have no further questions, I need to update my government on this meeting.”

  Kirk briefly considered asking her about her whereabouts last night, then he recalled that she had been with him, one deck below the VIP quarters, when the weapon alarm went off. He was her alibi for the murder.

  “No,” he said, “that will be all for now. Once again, please accept our sincere condolences . . . and try to get some rest.”

  A bitter chuckle escaped her lips.

  “Rest? There will be no rest for me until the general’s death is avenged. Nor for any of us, I suspect.” She turned and marched toward the exit. “Good day, gentlemen.”

  The door opened for her. A security officer was waiting outside to escort her back to her quarters. Kirk had no intention of letting her suffer the same fate as Tem. His promise to keep her safe was one he took very seriously.

  “Well, that actually went better than I was expecting,” Riley observed after she left. “Not that that’s really saying much.” He turned toward Kirk and his face hardened. An edge crept into his voice. “You know who’s next, don’t you?”

  Kirk didn’t need to be prodded. He leaned forward and activated the comm unit.

  “Kirk to Uhura. Please have Miss Kassidy brought to the briefing room.”

  Let’s get this over with, he thought. One way or another.

  Eleven

  Lenore entered the briefing room, looking understandably apprehensive. She had exchanged her party gown for an everyday outfit that Kirk assumed she had brought with her from Oyolo. Her pale features were strained and she faltered briefly when she saw Riley waiting for her. As with Gast, Kirk assumed that she had not slept well.

  “I take it I will not be catching a shuttle to Oyolo in the immediate future?”

  “Given the volatile situation on both planets,” Kirk said, “it’s probably best that you remain aboard the Enterprise until this matter is cleared up. For your own safety, of course.”

  “Of course,” she echoed. “But my work on Oyolo . . . ?”

  “I’ve already explained the situation to Doctor Tamris,” Kirk said.

  “The whole situation?”

  “Only that we needed your statement regarding last night’s events,” he clarified. “Nothing more.”

  She sighed in relief, clearly in no hurry to share her checkered past with her fellow relief workers. “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Let’s get on with it,” Riley said brusquely. He gazed at Lenore with a stony expression, as though she was a Klingon spy caught in the act. His eyes were hard as polished dilithium. He gestured at the empty chair Gast had just vacated. “Please be seated.”

  Lenore sat down at the end of the table. She took a deep breath and faced Riley.

  “Before we begin, Ambassador, I want to take the opportunity to apologize for trying to hurt you so many years ago. There was no good way to broach the subject at the reception last night, but you have to believe me that I sincerely regret what I did to you.”

  If her apology moved him, his face and voice gave no indication of it.

  “The events of twenty years ago are a matter of public record and do not need to be recapitulated. Everyone in this room knows who you are and what you are capable of.” Riley plowed ahead, taking the lead. Unlike with the delegates, he obviously wasn’t going to sit back and let Kirk be the “bad cop” where this particular suspect was concerned. “For the record, would you prefer to be addressed as Lyla Kassidy . . . or as Lenore Karidian?”

  For the moment, her alias remained more or less intact. Kirk had quietly instructed both Sulu and Uhura to keep mum about her true identity for the time being. Chekov had not yet signed on aboard the old Enterprise when the Kodos affair took place, but Kirk had taken the security chief into his confidence as well. Matters were dicey enough without either the Oyolu or Colonel Gast discovering Lenore’s history of homicide. There would be time enough to drop that bombshell if and when it became unavoidable.

  “What’s in a name?” she replied, shrugging. “Considering our shared past, is there any point in me stating that I had nothing to do with this particular murder?”

  “That’s what we’re here to decide,” Riley said. “Where were you last night when the weapon alarm went off?”

  “In my room.” She glanced at Kirk. “Alone.”

  “That’s not much of an alibi,” Riley said.

  “I had no reason to suspect that I would need one.” She appealed to Kirk, a quaver in her voice. “I promise you, Captain. I’m not the assassin, not this time. Why on ea
rth would I want to kill General Tem?”

  “The Scourge of Azoza?” Riley said. “Who didn’t want to kill him?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Perhaps he reminded you of someone else. Your father, maybe?”

  “But that makes no sense,” she protested. “I loved my father, not wisely but too well, despite his crimes. I never wanted to kill him.” Her voice cracked as she struggled visibly to maintain her composure. Her hands trembled. “And even if I had wanted to kill General Tem, how could I have planned this? I didn’t even know that I would be coming aboard the Enterprise until yesterday, let alone that I would be in proximity to the general?”

  Riley had already anticipated this argument.

  “Maybe it was a murderous impulse,” he speculated, “or perhaps your ‘accidental’ encounter with Captain Kirk wasn’t actually a matter of chance. Maybe you arranged it somehow, knowing that you could finagle an invitation to visit the Enterprise if you played on your past relationship to the captain . . .”

  Kirk opened his mouth to object to the implication, but he realized there was no point in denying that he had once had feelings for Lenore. Pretending otherwise would not bring them closer to the truth.

  Lenore, on other hand, appeared stricken by the accusation. She turned toward Kirk, seemingly overcome with emotion. Moist eyes searched his.

  “Is that what you think, Jim? That was I manipulating you?”

  You have before, he thought, rather uncharitably, but resisted the possibility. I don’t want to believe that.

  “We just need to clear things up, that’s all.” He maintained a cool, professional tone, as much for Riley’s sake as Lenore’s. The situation was charged enough as it was. “We’re talking to everyone who might have had motive and opportunity to get at the general last night.”

  “But I’m the only known serial killer in the vicinity, right?” She chuckled bleakly. “I suppose I can hardly blame you for suspecting me. I almost suspect myself.”

  Kirk hoped she wasn’t unraveling under the strain. This ordeal had to be taking a toll on her hard-won sanity.

  “The sooner we can eliminate you as a suspect, the better for all of us. Help us clear your name.”

  “And which name is that—‘Lyla Kassidy’ or ‘Lenore Karidian’ . . . or Lady Macbeth, for that matter?” She held up her hands and examined them. “Sometimes I wonder who I really am. Who knows, maybe I really am the killer and don’t even know it.”

  Riley seized on her remark. He leaned forward intently. “Is that a confession?”

  “That would make things easier for you, wouldn’t it? For all of you?” Her eyes searched Kirk’s. “Is that what you want, Jim?”

  Kirk didn’t like the plaintive, defeated tone in her voice. He feared she was on the verge of confessing regardless of her guilt or innocence.

  “What we want is the truth,” he said emphatically. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “But truth is often just a matter of appearances. All the world’s a stage, remember, and all we men and women merely players.” She kept staring at her raised hands. “If I am typecast as a killer, what does it matter who I truly am behind the greasepaint . . . or what parts I might have foolishly dreamed of playing?”

  Kirk frowned. He thought he understood the pressure she was under, but Lenore was not helping her case by indulging in such dramatics. Actress or not, she needed to sound more down-to-earth and less theatrical. Then again, he recalled, she’d always been prone to colorful flights of fancy in her language. It had been charming . . . before.

  “It matters here and now,” Kirk stated. “We need to identify the actual assassin, not just pin the blame on the first convenient suspect.”

  Riley stiffened, as though suspecting that Kirk’s remark might have been partially aimed at him. And he wouldn’t have been entirely wrong about that.

  Good, Kirk thought. He got the message.

  The intercom chimed again and Kirk responded, grateful for the interruption. “Yes?”

  “It’s Mister Spock,” Uhura said. “He’s hailing us from Pavak.”

  Kirk was eager to confer with Spock as well. “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this discussion another time, if that’s acceptable to you, Ambassador?”

  “Quite acceptable. The situation on Oyolo demands our attention, too.” He peered icily at Lenore. “Although I’m certain we’ll have more questions for Miss Karidian as the investigation develops.”

  “And I hope you will believe my answers,” she said, regaining her composure to a degree. She rose from her seat. “Please extend my apologies to Doctor Tamris, Captain, as it appears I will be detained a while longer. Shall I report back to my guest quarters . . . or to the brig?”

  “Your room will be sufficient,” Kirk assured her. “Although I’m going to ask that you be escorted to sickbay first. Doctor McCoy is expecting you.”

  “To conduct a psychiatric evaluation.”

  Pretty much, he thought, among other things. “Just to make sure you’re holding up okay. This whole business has surely been more than you bargained for.”

  “I confess that I rather wish that I had declined your gracious invitation and remained on Oyolo. Then matters might not be quite so muddy, at least as far as your investigation is concerned.” She gazed wistfully at Kirk and sighed. “Perhaps someday we can enjoy a pleasant evening without a dead body turning up.”

  That would be preferable, Kirk thought. “We’ll speak again later.”

  “After I’ve had my head examined, of course.” She turned to leave. “Till then, gentlemen.”

  Riley watched her exit. “Well, she knows how to make an exit. I’ll give her that.”

  But this drama was hardly over, Kirk realized. Indeed, he had the unsettling feeling that it was only beginning. There was still a murderer aboard the Enterprise, hiding in plain sight. Kirk couldn’t help flashing back to Lenore’s first visit to his ship, years ago, and the play she had performed in less than twenty-four hours ago. Shakespeare’s chilling words echoed at the back of Kirk’s mind.

  What’s past is prologue . . .

  Twelve

  Despite Pavak’s frigid climate, news of General Tem’s death had ignited a veritable firestorm upon the planet. A viewscreen on the wall of the guest quarters assigned to Spock and Scott conveyed muted images of riots and demonstrations breaking out across Pavak, as outraged civilians and politicians demanded justice for Tem and retaliation against the Oyolu. The visiting weapons inspectors didn’t need to rely on the planet’s global media to assess the situation, though. The view from the barrack’s windows offered direct visual evidence of the planet’s mood. Crowds of angry demonstrators, bearing signs and slogans, had gathered outside the fort’s fences, chanting and throwing rocks. Spock was unclear whether the demonstrators wanted him and Scott turned over to the mob or simply banished from the planet, but it was clear that an even greater percentage of the populace now opposed the disarmament efforts and were perhaps prepared to halt it by force of arms if necessary. What was significantly less clear was how much such sentiments were held by Brigadier-General Pogg and his troops, and whether the Pavakian military could truly guarantee his and Mister Scott’s safety. At the moment, the fort’s guards were keeping the irate crowds at bay, but Spock knew better than to assume that they could rely on this protection indefinitely. He had not forgotten the disruptor rifles that had been turned on them in the immediate aftermath of Tem’s murder. We were hardly among friends before the assassination, he thought, and considerably less so now.

  “This is a fine kettle of fish we’re in,” Scott said, pacing restlessly back and forth across the main living area of the suite. Having shucked his heavy field jacket, he wore his engineer’s vest over a standard-issue white turtleneck. He scowled at the chanting demonstrators outside. “I can’t believe it. An assassination aboard the Enterprise of all places!�
�

  “Sadly, not without precedent,” Spock observed. He was seated at the computer terminal conducting a thorough review of the transporter records from the interrupted disarmament procedure. Despite the present crisis, he had been allowed continued access to the data. Precisely 16.08 hours had passed since word of the general’s murder had reached Pavak, and he had made good use of that time. “Need I remind you of the Babel conference of years gone by?”

  “No.” Scott sank glumly onto a couch. “But that was aboard the old Enterprise. I had hoped that this new ship might stay unbloodied.” He peered up at the ceiling as though he could spy the Enterprise far beyond the orbit of Pavak. “Do you think the captain needs us back on the ship? I can’t imagine that he and Ambassador Riley are having an easy go of it.”

  “You are no doubt quite correct in that supposition,” Spock said. “I confess to being torn myself as to where our presence is most needed at the moment. Yet we have an important duty here on Pavak, perhaps even more so than before, now that tensions between Pavak and Oyolo have increased dramatically. With the cease-fire in danger, eliminating the remaining protomatter weapons becomes even more imperative.”

  “But do you really think the Pavakians are going to want to continue with the process,” Scott asked, “after all that’s happened?”

  “That remains to be seen, Mister Scott. But we cannot simply abandon the mission without making every effort to see it through, despite your very valid concerns.”

  “I suppose not,” Scott said. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” He sighed heavily. “I just wish they’d catch the bloody-handed villain who caused this ruckus.”

  “As do I, Mister Scott. As do I.”