"It is unacceptable," Traphid told him.
Farquhar's smile faded. "Unacceptable?" he echoed. "Please explain."
The first minister shrugged. "The Obirrhat will reject the, intrusion of the gettrexin in their sacred areas as strongly as they reject the presence of the cubaya. One form of beast is like another to them, in that regard."
The ambassador's mouth was open. He closed it, then darted a sidelong glance at Scotty, as if to say: I did my best, but it wasn't a very good idea to begin with really.
The engineer's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything. Kirk admired the man's restraint. In Scotty's position, he might not have been so tightlipped.
Of course, McCoy wasn't as willing as Farquhar to throw in the towel. "Wait a minute," he said, "let's think about this a little. If we can't use real animals, then how about just their scents? We can extract them without causing the gettrexin any pain and—"
Traphid held up his hand. "That would be just as unacceptable to the Obirrhat. Any evidence of a gettrex, even just its scent, constitutes a desecration of their sacred ground."
But the doctor still had some fight left in him. "All right," he said. "Neither beasts nor their scents. Then how about a chemical compound—one that smells like the gettrexin but is created in a laboratory? It would have the same effect on the cubaya as the real thing, but being artificial, it shouldn't put the Obirrhat's noses out of joint."
"Real or artificial," the first minister responded, "it would smell like a gettrex. And the Obirrhat would reject the idea."
McCoy scowled. He was really digging now, Kirk thought. "What if the compound emulates a beast this world has never heard of? Say, a Terran wolverine? Or an Aldebaran kirgis? They'd probably have the same effect on the cubaya."
Traphid shook his head. "I am afraid not. You must understand, Doctor, the Obirrhat are simply not a reasonable people." A pause. "I do not envy you your task."
McCoy cursed under his breath. "Seems to me there's an answer there somewhere, if we can only dig it out."
Scotty patted him on the back. "Whether that's so or not, Doctor, ye gave it a good try."
"But not good enough," Farquhar reminded them. He turned to the Malurians. "I apologize, on behalf of all of us. Next time, we won't waste your time with such a flimsy suggestion."
"Flimsy?" Scotty muttered. "Of all the—"
A look from the captain stopped him in mid-invective.
"Ambassador," Traphid said, "you need not worry about making demands on our time. We do not expect you to solve this problem on your own, after all. We anticipated all along that it would require our cooperation."
Farquhar placed his index and middle fingers in the vicinity of his temples. "As you wish, First Minister."
This time, when McCoy looked at him, Kirk looked back. It was one thing to show respect, even deference. But to grovel? Especially when the Malurians seemed less than receptive to it?
He wasn't one to tell someone else how to do his job. But if he were in the ambassador's place, he'd be handling things a bit differently.
* * *
"You see, Captain?" said Kruge, who was standing in the humans' garden enclosure. Vheled, who was kneeling, didn't immediately look up at his second officer. He was too busy stroking the long, dark petals of one of the fireblossoms Kruge had pointed out to him.
"And where did the humans say these came from?" the captain asked.
Fortunately, Kruge had asked that question and made sure he got an answer. "The wreck of the Ul'lud."
Absorbing the information, Vheled nodded. "The Ul'lud—under Captain Amagh. An effete, Kamorh'dag cultivator of flowers." He grunted. "Yes. That has the ring of truth to it."
He remained there for a moment, kneeling. Kruge wondered what was going through his superior's mind.
Then Vheled spoke again. "Do you understand what they were doing, Kruge, when we interrupted them? Removing the dying specimens from around the fireblossoms so they could plant these others in their place. These lesser organisms"—he held up one sorry example so Kruge could see—"could not stand up to the presence of a Klingon life form. Just as the colonists cannot stand up to us." He shook his head. "The Federation is so weak as to make even the Kamorh'dag seem strong by comparison."
Kruge nodded. The captain was a wise man. If he himself was to be a captain someday, he would do well to listen carefully to Vheled.
Suddenly, he turned and saw Gidris standing in the entranceway. There were two others with him, Loutek and Aoras. A moment later, the captain turned, too.
"You have something for me, Gidris?"
The second-in-command didn't seem pleased to see Vheled and Kruge together, but he managed to submerge his apprehension. "Indeed, Captain. Terrik has completed his sensor scan."
"And?"
"It seems. Timothy Riordan was not the only human the computer failed to mention. The sensors have detected five others, huddled together in the hills north of this place. And, sir, all of them are children."
Vheled mulled it over for a moment. He smiled. "Then the Riordan whelp was speaking the truth—at least insofar as there having been other children with him. I am still not certain he knew nothing about the theft of the device. In any case, whether he was aware of it or not, these others must have the G-Seven unit—or at least know where it is."
Gidris nodded. "It would appear so."
Abruptly, Kruge had a thought. He turned to his captain. "My lord?"
Vheled's eyes narrowed. "Speak."
Kruge lifted his chin, proud of himself. "The humans appear to have gone to a great deal of trouble to see that we do not gain access to this device. Perhaps this technology—what do they call it? Terraforming?—is not as benign as it seems."
The first officer's brow writhed with curiosity, but it wasn't in his interest to show anything but disdain. "What does that mean, second officer?"
"What it means," the captain interjected, "is that the G-Seven mechanism may be a weapon after all, despite appearances to the contrary." His features hardened. "If so, then we are fortunate it is only in the hands of younglings. Even should they know how to use it, they cannot be equipped to use it well." A pause. "And if we can bring it back to the homeworld …" His lip curled. "The possibilities are most intriguing."
Kruge tried to decipher the remark. Did Vheled mean that by laying this technology at the emperor's feet, he would gain even more glory for the Ghevish'rae, and thereby further enhance their political standing?
Or was he talking about keeping the weapon a secret from Kapronek and his Kamorh'dag and using it to achieve power in a different way? He grinned at the prospect.
"You find something about the captain's remarks humorous?" Gidris asked him, not bothering to disguise his hostility.
Kruge straightened, but not out of respect for rank. "No, sir. Certainly not humorous."
"Then why the grin?"
Kruge shrugged. "I was entertained by the possibilities—sir."
Eyeing his third-in-command, Vheled held up his hand. "You need pursue this no further, Gidris. I am not offended."
"But Captain—"
"But nothing. There is much to be done, Gidris, and you are the one I've chosen to do it." He watched the Klingon's chest swell at the expression of confidence. "Take a half-dozen men," said the captain, "including Loutek and Aoras out there, and track down the missing children—all of them. When you find them, you will find the device."
Gidris beat his fist against his body armor. "I hear and obey."
This time, Kruge kept his smile inside. Gidris had been prevented from disciplining him, and by the word of the captain himself. It boded well for Kruge's future on the Kad'nra.
Perhaps he could not rise in the ranks before this mission was completed. But once it was over, Gidris would do well to watch his back.
Chapter Eleven
TO THE CAPTAIN'S EYE, the sacred precincts of the Obirrhat looked as old as civilization itself. The streets were narrow and winding�
��paths, really, between two and three-story buildings that leaned together like drunken conspirators. Underfoot, there were cobblestones that the years had worn down and cracked; in a number of places, the stones were missing altogether, leaving nothing but dirt in the gaps.
Statuary, most of it in an advanced state of ruin, appeared at nearly every intersection. The most common subjects were young women and children with their arms full of stony flowers.
The place even smelled ancient, Kirk thought, as they filed through the labyrinthine space between two especially precarious-looking edifices. It had that musty odor one associated with antique books, or the kind of old stone bridges one could still find back in Iowa.
It was the kind of place he might have liked to linger in, to get to know better. That is, if it weren't for the deadly stares and muttered curses that dogged his group's every step.
"Feeling a little unwanted?" McCoy asked.
The captain nodded. "More than a little, Bones. Then again, we should have expected a few funny looks. They must wonder what we're up to."
"That's fer certain," Scotty chimed in. "Especially since we've got a couple of armed Manteil watchin' over us. Nothin' like seein' the enemy paradin' through yer streets t' make ye feel a wee bit insecure."
"Frankly," Farquhar said, "I don't see the point in commenting on it. The first minister made it clear he wouldn't allow us to tour the area without an escort. And now that I've had a chance to see what it's like down here, I'm glad he insisted."
Kirk glanced at the pair of Manteil security guards Traphid had assigned to them. It was true there had been bloodshed in these streets, and there might be more before this conflict was resolved.
But Scotty had a point. Their tour could only look like an attempt to underline the Manteil's authority, and that might make a bad situation worse.
As they emerged from the street and passed a relatively wide, perpendicular thoroughfare, the captain noticed a square full of people a block away. It was the first large, open area they'd seen.
He pointed to it. "What's that?"
The nearer of the two guards said: "The market. It's where the Obirrhat in this area buy their food and clothing."
It looked interesting. Nor did there seem to be much point in merely continuing to walk the streets.
On the other hand, it might irritate the Obirrhat if the offworlders and their guards invaded the marketplace. And they'd done enough invading for one day.
"May we see it?" Farquhar asked.
Inwardly, the captain cursed himself for bringing the subject up in the first place. Fortunately, the guards had their wits about them.
"It is not advisable," one of them told the ambassador. "In such a crowd, it would be nearly impossible to guarantee your safety."
"Good point," Kirk said. "In fact, I think I've seen enough of this place altogether."
The ambassador shook his head. "I disagree."
"What a surprise," McCoy whispered in his captain's ear.
"I think it's important to get all the information we can," Farquhar went on. He smiled, the picture of a reasonable man. "We don't have to go into the crowd. We can stand at the fringe of it."
The guards looked at one another. They frowned.
"I'll take full responsibility with First Minister Traphid," the ambassador assured them. "You have my word on it."
The guards continued to look at one another. Their frowns deepened.
Oh, Lord, Kirk thought. They're going to give in.
But he was wrong. One of the guards turned to Farquhar and shook his head. "I do not believe your taking responsibility would make any difference to the first minister. I am afraid I must—"
He was cut off by a banshee yell. Without thinking, the captain took hold of the ambassador and drove him to the ground behind a wooden pushcart.
A moment later, he was glad his reflexes had been so sharp. As he peered over his shoulder, he saw a couple of Obirrhat youths spraying gouts of red phaser fire in their direction.
Across the way, Scotty and Bones had managed to find cover behind a piece of statuary. Unfortunately, the captain thought, the council had prohibited the offworlders from carrying arms, or the battle might have ended as soon as it began.
As it was, their Manteil guards held their ground and returned fire. Tactically, Kirk knew, it was a mistake.
One of the Manteil paid the price for it, taking a direct shot. The impact sent him flying back into a wall, where he slumped to the cobblestones, a charred, smoking hole in the center of his chest.
His partner remained steadfast, however. Without flinching, he aimed, fired, and took down one of their assailants.
Before the Obirrhat youth could hit the ground, Kirk saw the blackened ruin that had been his midsection and realized the guards had their weapons set to kill as well.
When the other Obirrhat saw his friend fall, he started to back away, squeezing off a couple of blasts to cover his retreat. They didn't help. Coolly, the surviving Manteil skewered him on a bloodred beam.
The youth fell in a fuming heap at a woman's feet. Stricken with horror, she opened her eyes wide and her fingers climbed into her mouth.
For a second or two, there was silence as the import of what had happened began to sink in. Then the Obirrhat around them started to get ugly.
"We've got to get out of here," the ambassador muttered, recognizing the danger immediately. He was doing his best to maintain his composure, but his eyes were a window on his fear.
"Damned right," Kirk replied. Making sure that Bones and Scotty saw him; he jerked a thumb down the street, in the direction from which they'd come. Then, half lifting Farquhar off the cobblestones, he headed that way. Calmly. Or at least, as calmly as possible under the circumstances.
The ambassador began to accelerate, to break into a run, but the captain held him back. "No," he said. "If you run, it's an admission of guilt. And they'll run after us." He looked about them—saw the eyes, angrier than ever, and the mouths twisted with hatred—and kept his balance despite it all. "Trust me," he told Farquhar. "This is our best shot at getting out of here alive."
A wail went up from the woman at whose feet the youth had fallen—a thin, undulating whine of mourning. Before long, others had joined in. The surviving guard bent and pulled his comrade's body over his shoulder, leaving a bloody stain on the cobblestones. He still had his phaser in his hand, though he had the presence of mind not to make it obvious.
"Captain," Scotty rasped, as his path and McCoy's converged with Kirk's. "Are ye all right, sir?"
The Obirrhat in the intersection had begun to move with them, to track them like a huge, deadly predator with a hundred accusing faces.
The captain nodded, keeping a firm grasp on the ambassador's arm. He still had the feeling that Farquhar might bolt at any moment. And for his plan to work, he needed them all together. If they got separated, there was no telling what might happen.
"We're fine, Mr. Scott. Now let's direct our eyes straight ahead and see if we can keep it that way."
Abruptly, a different kind of cry went up, a more guttural sound, bristling with violence. Kirk ignored it, glancing behind them only once to make sure their guard was with them. Once he saw the Manteil, he trained his gaze on their target—the end of the street—and headed for it.
After that, of course, there would be another street, and maybe another. And then maybe they'd be out of the sacred precinct, and the crowd would be inclined to stop following them. Maybe.
The captain wasn't putting all his eggs in that basket, however. Now that his back was to the Obirrhat and they couldn't see his hands, he reached for his communicator and opened it waist-high.
Certainly, he could have done that before. But the Obirrhat might have thought the communicator was another weapon being trained on them, and then the situation might have escalated.
"Kirk to Enterprise."
"This is Enterprise," Sulu responded. "Something wrong, Captain?"
That
was the value of serving with a man for a number of years. He could tell you were in trouble even before you had a chance to say so.
"Affirmative, Lieutenant. Have Chief Kyle lock onto my coordinates and beam up five—including two Malurians, one dead and one alive."
He could have asked for security personnel to be beamed down, but that would have been an act of desperation. The potential for a major incident was already there without their throwing more fuel on the fire.
Sulu paused on the other end. "Captain, Kyle says there are a great many Malurians within close proximity. It may take some time to isolate the ones who are with you."
"Tell Kyle to move as quickly as he can, Lieutenant. We may not have all that much time." Closing his communicator, he put it away.
Nor was he a moment too soon. Obirrhat heads were starting to poke out from warped window openings, demanding to know what was going on. They were answered by the crowd, which seemed to grow larger with each pursuing step.
Kirk turned to the Manteil, who was breathing hard now with the strain of bearing his comrade's corpse. "Put your weapon on stun," he told the man.
The guard looked at him, uncomprehending.
Kirk said it again. "Put your weapon on stun, damn it. Do it now."
"But if they charge us, and they see it won't kill them—"
"Then it'll be to our disadvantage."
The Manteil shook his head. "I don't—"
"What he's saying," McCoy rasped, "is any more killing could make this city a bloodbath, and that's more important than whether the four of us live or die. Now put the blasted thing on stun or I will."
Reluctantly, the guard altered the setting.
Out of the corner of his eye, the captain saw something thrown at him. He ducked. As it passed by, he saw what it was a piece of ancient masonry. Great, he thought. Just great.
Another chunk came whizzing at Scotty. Unable to avoid, it entirely, he took a glancing blow off his shoulder.
They were getting closer to the intersection. Hell, they were almost on top of it. A little farther now, a little farther, and the cross street opened up on either side of them.
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