by S. D. Perry
The corridor was filled with excited conversation, the tone of it what one would have expected--disdain for Kettaract and questions about his past, mostly, but also a number of debates about the merits of his statements. A good number of the scientists were Starfleet, and not everyone disagreed with what he'd said.
God, what a mess.
She stared out at the bickering crowd, astounded by Bendes's recklessness.
Jim touched her arm. "Jain, are you all right?"
She nodded, turning to face him. The expression he wore--concern, compassion, his genuine like for her as clear in his eyes as polished dilithium--was touching, if misplaced. She wasn't upset, she was mad as hell. She needed a distraction, she needed to not think about Bendes Kettaract and his destructively self-righteous ego for a little while ... and she saw the answer in Jim Kirk's sweet expression.
"I'm fine, thank you," she said. "Really, I don't want to talk about it... or hear about it, for that matter, and it's going to be all over the station in about ten minutes. There's a bottle of wine in my quarters ... would you join me?"
She looked into his eyes as she asked it, and saw that he understood the implications of her question. Still, he hesitated a few seconds before answering, and in that small space of time, she saw a depth of deliberate caution and self-control in him that she hadn't suspected. That, and something unfamiliar, something she wasn't sure about until he asked a question of his own.
"Are you sure that's what you want?"
He was trying to watch out for her; he was trying not to take advantage. That unfamiliar thing was protectiveness, and it made her feel vulnerable to him suddenly, so much so that she almost retracted her invitation ... but at the same time, his chivalrous warmth thrilled her, it made her want him even more. To be alone with him, to be touched by him, looking into his eyes and seeing what she saw now... "I'm sure," she said, her heart beating faster at the gentle smile her response elicited. "Positive."
He offered her his arm and the two of them started down the corridor, the thought of Bendes Kettaract seeming like the least important thing in the universe, second only to the irony of her sudden intense desire for James Kirk.
Spock waited until the small, enthusiastic crowd surrounding Dr. Kettaract gradually melted away before approaching, hoping to receive the doctor's undivided attention. He was still unable to recall the reason by which he associated Kettaract's past with conflict, but had already decided that he would investigate the matter upon returning to the Enterprise.
Kettaract was following his last supporter toward the doors of the conference room when Spock stepped up to meet him.
"Dr. Kettaract. I'm wondering if I might have a moment of your time."
Kettaract turned to look at him, his reaction upon seeing Spock one of surprised recognition ... rum ing quickly to a guarded wariness. The doctor folded his arms, staring steadily at him.
"You're Spock. From the Enterprise." "I am."
"Tell me," Kettaract asked, a note of challenge in his voice, "have I merited your support or your condemnation?"
"Neither, sir," Spock said. "I'm merely curious. The fervency with which you have expressed yourself is uncommonly strong."
Kettaract laughed suddenly, a high, harsh sound that indicated scorn or derision--though Spock did not believe it was directed at him. "And you want to know why, is that right? You, of all people."
Spock was puzzled by his reaction. "I fail to see, sir, why my interest might be distinct from another's."
"Do you really?"
The physicist glanced around the nearly empty room before leaning forward, his voice lowered as if in confidence. "After what you did to even out the playing field, as it were, you and your good friend Captain Kirk--you expect me to believe that you don't understand where I'm coming from?"
Not willing to deny some understanding, Spock didn't answer, waiting for him to expand, to clarify --although Kettaract's open accusation could only be about the theft of the Romulan cloaking device. Considering the covert nature of the mission, Spock was quite surprised that Kettaract was aware of it--and even more so that he appeared willing, even eager to volunteer his knowledge.
"Starfleet Intelligence called me in to study it," Kettaract said, his tone flat with anger. "Whenever they get their hands on some piece of advanced alien technology, I'm one of the first ones they call. In fact, Starfleet is currently preparing sensor-array upgrades based on my report."
"And because of this, you feel that I possess a particular awareness of your feelings regarding Federation technology?" Spock asked, choosing his words carefully. He did not share Kettaract's rather casual attitude toward disclosure--and as fascinated as he was by the unusual conversation, he was forced by personal conviction and duty to consider its cessation.
At his question, Kettaract's demeanor changed, turning from anger to what Spock perceived as frustration.
"We have the technology," Kettaract said. "Starfleet has the means to make a decisive stand against its enemies, and it's just sitting there, collecting dust. And all because the Federation wants to play fair, they want to pretend that they're too good to resort to anything so unflattering as winning. It's a pretense of virtue, a sham."
Spock nodded, understanding finally. "You object to Starfleet's policy against the use of certain technologies that they have acquired."
"Obviously," Kettaract snapped--and then frowned, peering closely at Spock. "And actually, I don't understand why you don't. You're a Vulcan. They ordered you to lie and steal, I read the report... tell me, how did you rationalize it, Mr. Spock? And how do you now rationalize the hypocrisy that your mission and its outcome has exposed?"
The questions were valid, but unacceptable. Spock had not admitted to anything, nor could he. "I am unable to respond, sir." Kettaract nodded. "Of course not. But if I were you, I would consider it, because you never know when things might change. The Federation wants to set an example, they want everything to evolve at a nice, even pace, so that nobody can win. But if Starfleet ever gets hold of something truly significant, do you honestly doubt they'll hesitate in using it?"
Spock was considering a response in spite of the question's rhetorical nature, when Kettaract's communicator sounded. The doctor pulled it from his belt and flipped it open, half turning away from Spock.
"Kettaract."
"Dr. Kettaract, this is M-20 Communications." A young male voice. Spock could hear him clearly. "Sir, we've just received a text message field for you ..."
"Go ahead."
"Actually, sir, there is no message," the young male said. "Only the name of the sender was received, one, ah, John Hermes, but the field was blank."
Kettaract glanced at Spock. "John Hermes ... no message? Can you trace the line back?"
"No, sir, I'm sorry. It came in through the main sector relay."
"Figures," Kettaract said, sighing. "Thank you."
He closed the communicator, facing Spock again. "Technology at its finest. Well. As much as I've enjoyed our little non conversation I imagine my welcome at this conference is about to be rescinded, and I'd like to leave before I'm forced to. If you'll excuse me, Commander." Spock nodded, although he doubted very much that the summit organizers would eject the physicist. Kettaract walked away, his thin shoulders hunched, already reaching for his communicator again.
He stood for a moment, considering Bendes Kettaract and decided that he would return to the Enterprise promptly, his curiosities only heightened by their brief encounter. Spock decided also that his earlier assessment of the day as "engaging" had been accurate, but much too mild a sentiment.
Jain's rooms were much like Darres's, plush but nondescript, and by unspoken agreement, they left the lights low. They chatted about nothing at all--a childhood pet, a memory from school--as she uncorked the wine, a kind of burgundy, Jain sticking to her resolution not to discuss Kettaract or the panel. She poured each of them a full glass before joining Kirk on the couch, and drank half of hers in one swal
low before leaning back against the cushions, sighing heavily.
"Excuse me," she said, smiling. "I believe it's supposed to be sipped."
"I believe you're right," Kirk said, tasting from his glass. The wine was rich and sweet, very good. He was about to say as much when Jain took another deep swallow and set her glass aside, moving closer. Her leg touched his, and he felt a surge of warmth, of want, as she reached out and plucked the wineglass from his willing fingers. She put it on the low table in front of the couch before turning to face him, moving still closer--and although her intent was obvious, he saw a trace of uncertainty in her eyes, the same he'd seen outside the conference room.
As she leaned forward, he reached out and cupped her face with both hands, stopping her.
"Jain..." He searched her face, searched for words that would express all the things he wanted to tell her--that she was beautiful, smart, exciting, that he wanted to kiss her, to make love to her, but... "We don't have to hurry," he said, meaning it for her sake. "It's all right with me if we don't--if you--"
"Kiss me," she whispered, and the last of his reserve fell away. He pulled her close, kissing her, marveling at the softness of her lips and skin, at the sweet taste of burgundy and her mouth, at the scent of her hair, like peaches. Her arms came up across his back, a soft, yearning sound in her throat as her fingers twined through his hair--and her communicator beeped. Once. Again. A third time.
Against him, Jain had tensed. Kirk reluctantly broke their kiss, unable to help a smile at the look of black irritation on her face as she leaned away from him, fumbling at her belt.
"Somebody hates me," she said, standing. She opened the device, running a hand through her hair.
"Suni."
"Jain, it's Bendes. I'm--"
"Hang on," she said, glancing apologetically at Kirk before walking toward the bedroom.
Kirk took a deep breath and blew it out, reaching for his glass. He could hear the angry tone of her voice if not her words, and from the sound of it, he almost felt sorry for Kettaract. Almost. The smell of peaches still lingered.
He clearly heard her ask, "John? Not Tom, you're sure?," and then her voice lowered, became serious, barely audible.
Kirk sipped his wine, impatient for her return. Any suspicion of uncertainty on her part was gone, lost in the total abandonment with which she'd returned his kiss ... "Jim."
He looked up, saw her standing in the bedroom's entrance--and knew immediately, from the look on her face and the unhappiness with which she'd spoken his name, that something had come up.
Kirk put down his glass and stood, straightening his uniform, wishing that communicators didn't exist. Jain moved to stand in front of him, the disappointment clear on her face.
"I'm so sorry," she said, taking his hand. "Bendes--Dr. Kettaract--has decided that it's time for us to leave. He's already at the ship, and I've got about five minutes to get there. Believe me, if there was any way ..."
Kirk forced a smile. "Where are you going?"
"Back to the lab--Jim, the project we've been working on, it's going to be over with soon. My part in it, anyway--"
"How soon?" He asked, gazing down into her astounding eyes. Scientific consultants had traveled on the Enterprise before, many times.
"Maybe a few weeks. Maybe only days," she said.
"How can I contact you?" he asked, brushing her dark hair away from her forehead.
"You can't, and please don't try," she said. "It's a security matter, I'm sorry. But I can get in touch with you ... if you want."
"I want." He leaned over and kissed her firmly, already wistful for her as she walked him to the door. He offered to see her to her ship but she shook her head, sounding just as wistful as he felt.
"It's better this way," she said, stopping just short of triggering the door. "More private."
They embraced, tightly, and said good-bye, and then he was alone, the door closed between them.
Chapter Nine
Returning to the Enterprise almost a full hour before the captain, Spock had ample time to research Ben des Kettaract--and to look into circumstances which might prove valuable in the imminent future, depending on his conversation with Kirk. Spock had asked to be alerted when the captain called for transport, arriving just as he was walking out of the transporter room.
"Mr. Spock, I thought you'd still be at the conference," the captain said. He appeared to be tired, his shoulders somewhat slumped as he started toward his quarters. Spock fell in beside him.
"After speaking with Dr. Kettaract, I decided that my time would be better spent here, researching his personal and professional history," Spock responded. "And I've uncovered a few facts that bear immediate discussion."
"Explain." Spock quickly related the gist of his conversation with Kettaract, which surprised and concerned the captain. They reached his quarters as Spock was relating the information, the captain gesturing him inside so that he could continue.
"His willingness to discuss the cloaking device, and his excessive anger toward what he considers to be Starfleet's hypocrisy, prove nothing," Spock said.
The captain leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. "But?"
"There is a history of emotional instability. Ben des Kettaract achieved his first doctorate at the age of nineteen, in molecular physics, and went on to earn two more before he was twenty-five, in quantum mechanics and chemistry. He was enrolled in Starfleet Academy throughout, and was regarded as something of a prodigy even before his first paper was published, on proton decay. Afterward, the Federation's scientific community unofficially designated his as the next great mind in science. Kettaract then disappeared for two years, throwing himself into a new project--and upon his next publication, he became an object of scorn to the same people who had earlier embraced him. He theorized a stable, energy-producing, artificially created molecule that would 'be to a warp core what a warp core is to a matchstick," and was denounced as a fool when serious flaws in his premise became immediately apparent."
The captain raised one hand slightly, stopping him. "Is it possible, his theory?"
"No," Spock answered. "However, having read his paper, I believe he was much closer than anyone credited. His math was superb, and all of the components he based his theory around do exist. If such a synthesis was possible, the energy output would be as high as he postulated, perhaps higher. But the design was inherently unstable, and that instability meant his molecule could not exist for more than a fraction of a second."
Although Spock could have continued, the captain nodded, and he returned to Kettaract's history.
"The barrage of denouncements from his peers drove him out of die public eye for just over a decade," Spock continued. "It is unknown what he did for the entire period, but he was hospitalized twice for paranoid episodes in the first five years, claiming that he was being watched and followed. He apparently recovered; at the end of his hiatus, he published again--this time, a speculative analysis of a theoretical quark grouping. The paper was heralded as brilliant, and did much to redeem his reputation, although not to the same status as before.
"Since then, Kettaract has worked in and out of the private sector, primarily as a researcher but also as a consultant, among other things. Technically, he is still a member of Starfleet, but has not been considered to be on active duty for some time. As he told me himself, he's done work for Starfleet Intelligence and it was his reference to the Romulan cloaking device dial drew my attention--"
"--because of the Sphinx," the captain said softly. "Have you found any evidence of a connection between Kettaract and Casden?"
"I have not," Spock said. "I have nothing but conjecture at this point." "But you think you're on to something, don't you?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I believe further investigation is not unwarranted, sir."
The captain paused, frowning. His voice when he spoke was uncertain. "Is it possible... do you believe that Dr. Suni might know something about this?"
"I would not presume to say," Spock said. "Logically, however, it must be considered. By Dr. Suni's own admission, the two of them are currently working together on an unspecified project--of which there is no mention in the files."
The captain nodded reluctantly, clearly dissatisfied with the conclusion. "Yes, of course. Recommendations?"
"First, that we coordinate with Captain Darres's investigation," Spock said. "His team may have access to information about Jack Casden and the Sphinx that we do not. I also recommend a more exhaustive search of Federation records for information about Doctors Kettaract and Suni, perhaps cross-referencing with M-20's files. And I suggest that we concern ourselves with whether or not Captain Casden was actually involved with the Romulans--which, based on my conversation with Dr. Kettaract, we can no longer presume with any certainty. We have to account for the Sphinx's graviton reading, and if the device we obtained is still being studied by Starfleet Intelligence--"
The captain finished his thought. "--then where did that reading come from?" He looked at Spock closely, pursing his lips. "How do you propose we do that, exactly?" "By speaking with the Romulan Commander," Spock said. "She is still in Federation space."
"Still?" the captain asked. "But why? The Federation doesn't hold political prisoners ... surely there wasn't a problem with physically returning her."
"She's to be exchanged for a Federation ambassadorial aide being held by the Romulans, on charges of espionage," Spock said. "The commander is not a prisoner. She's being detained on Starbase 23, near the Neutral Zone, but has been allowed free access to contact her people, within security-based limits. This personnel exchange was insisted upon by the Romulan government, apparently so that their release of the ambassadorial aide will not be taken as a sign of weakness, by their enemies or their own populace."
The next logical step was obvious. Starbase 23 was barely eight light-years from Station M-20.