Irion II. A tiny planet of 2,850-mile circumference, it lay within its quadrant with only its pair of moon's and Arumla 273, a planet consisting of nothing but deserts and no identifiable life forms. This isolation and it's perfect M type climate made it ideal to the Federation as an alternate to Babel, after the bombing attacks on the Counsel Building that had left most of the universe staggering for several months.
In a matter of weeks a suitable building had been chosen in the capital city and the meeting went on without a hitch. With the success of the conference it was agreed to establish a separate assemblage area for emergency cases, as well as dividing the time between Irion II and Babel, once its reconstruction had been completed. Star Fleet followed as expected and immediately set up an equally impressive station directly across from the Federation Building, infusing the local authority into the same structure, to maintain a close eye on the official going-on's at any given time they choose.
There really was no great need for such security on a planet like Irion II. Even with the expected grunting turmoil from the ambassador's that had business on Irion II or those who had taken up residence on the planet, the atmosphere was quiet, peaceful with literally no crime. The tranquility was so well know and comfortable that a branch of the Academy had been set up, through the power of the Federation, especially when the children of certain ambassador's were ready to begin with their education's and families were incapable of being apart for whatever reason.
The Irionians took everything in quiet stride, as their peaceable little planet became suddenly popular with the rest of the galaxy. Nonstressful, untroublesome, they were not considered stupid either. Money had that effect on even some of the best cultures in the universe. They were very much aware of the fact that currency did have the tendency to flow easily and swiftly when pouring from the hand of an ambassador or a high-ranking Star Fleet Officer.
In the next five years Clotho had grown, the exploded into a city of over 425,000, easily doubling the population. Establishment's were erected over night, developing into a lascivious section that amazingly kept its lurid head above the equally murky waters of the law, that had designedly overlooked the area for the most part.
Otherwise Irion II maintained it is amiable character for all the visiting delegates and the newest emergence to the planet. Tourists.
Another lucrative pig that was waiting to be slaughtered in the eyes of the Irionians. Instead of amusement parks or brightly illuminated, inviting casino's or the abounding collection of cheap tourist-trap's lining the walkways hugging the bay, the went about in their own calming way, making sure the masses spent their hard earned money.
A massive and swift reconstruction of the city was finished within six months, creating an atmosphere that made one feel you were actually wandering in a 2,500-acre private park, instead of the heart of a major city. With the same basic climate and vegetation as that of the northwestern area of the United States it stayed green and comfortable nearly year round. There was a cool meditative feel to the place, with crushed stone path's going through the planted forest that covered the grounds, circling the governmental buildings on all sides, save for the western side that faced the Virenli Bay. Painstaking efforts were made to maintain the manicured landscapes, from the specifically chosen trees, to hand planted shrubs, to the water features. The idea being, if you're more relaxed and content the more easily and willing you are apt to spread your money around. An estimation that was working with better results than any originally calculated.
With the outpouring of excursionists and currency coming in, the city was able to offer a small but sufficient public transportation. It ran from one end of Clotho to other, a distance agreeable to the majority of those who were forced to traverse the area. Otherwise one was expected and usually gladly walked along the carefully planned paths or wider walkway to their destination. In addition, everything one could possibly want was placed in impeccably convenient spots, that no one could possibly find a reason to complain.
The Administration Building was no acceptation. It had surrounded itself with the best of everything, from hostelries, shops and restaurants. Many a path had been beaten to the restaurant's that had seemingly grown over night and could force several of the best known chef's to throw in the towel and leap to their death's from the tallest building at hand. Cherished among the culinary savoir-faire, was surprisingly less festooned establishment's known as Tab's.
A good ten minute walk from the Administration Building, it sat southwest of the city, perched on the rim of the shallow bay facing the docks at the opposite end of the inlet and open water. The atmosphere was a comfortable genialness with no definable style making it suitable for any patron, of any size, shape or life form. It had the reputation of being a place with no stiff formality and the best food on the planet. Boasting no outlandish dishes of exotic or styled edibles, that came in the serving size of a Petrie dish, they were famous for serving standard 'grub' for any species known to exist. This no nonsense, give them what they want thinking made Tab's the biggest success in Clotho.
With prestige such as that, it was no great shock that occasionally equally illustrious personages would pay a call to the restaurant. Although it was sometimes staggering who exactly did come walking through the door. As was the case this early evening in the lounge.
Sitting at the best table in the lounge, overlooking the bay from the floor to ceiling windows, the three men gazed pensively at their menu's as they had been for the last two minutes, somehow managing to be oblivious to the curious and awed stares from the other tables. The employee's had become a bit uncommoningly giddy, as they spread the word through the building and most had made excusable trips to the lounge just to be certain no one was pulling their legs, wing or tentacle. The strange fuss bothered no one at the table, perhaps because they were used to it or more likely were too hungry to notice.
Laying his menu down first, Captain James T. Kirk glanced at his two friends but found the royal blue menu covers staring back at him. Pushing his menu to one side he picked up his whiskey and soda took a cautious sip and found it to his liking. He had always frowned upon a bartender who thought they were doing a favor by making your drink strong enough to flat the Titanic on it.
Carefully setting the barrel glass down on the table, he shifted his gaze out at the bay. The sun hadn't yet dipped completely behind the horizon to the east and was attempting to cast it's remaining evening glow on the shore, giving an orange-pink tinge to the waves that crashed against the black rocks that served as part of the restaurants foundation. A perfect setting to watch the first stars come to life, Kirk thought gazing at the darkening sky that was being helped along by a bank of threatening clouds that were coming in at a hasty rate. A brilliant flash of white among the thickness of clouds threw him of his reflection and brought his attention to his surroundings.
Closing his menu, Doctor Leonard 'Bones' McCoy sighed dramatically. Placing his menu on top of Kirk's he took a moment of time to painstakingly make sure they were even and neatly stacked, a characteristic totally foreign to the man, which meant he was bored.
"So what sounds like the catch of the day, Bones?" Asked Kirk, hoping he was guessing wrong as he watched his friend rearrange the table settings.
"I guess the prime rib will do." McCoy replied with yet another long dreary, irksome sigh.
'Don't strain yourself,' was the first thought crossing Kirk's mind but kept it to himself as he moved his gaze to the Vulcan to his right. "And what about you, Spock?"
Laying the menu to one side, Spock sat rigidly in his chair staring ponderingly at the inflorescent centerpiece for a short moment, then looked up at his friend's waiting expression. "I believe the house vegetable plate will suffice."
"Why don't you go outside and graze on the shrubs in front of the building?" Grunted McCoy, as he moved his water glass and Altair water around to satisfaction. "Sure as hell wouldn't cost as much."
Kirk shot a glance from McCoy to Spock, who had raised an eyebrow in response but didn't take the trouble to reply.
"Well, I think I'm going to have the..."
"A steak. An inch thick. Medium rare then smothered in onions and mushrooms. A bakes potato, drenched in butter and sour cream. And baby carrots, if they have them. Otherwise you'll take peas." Finished McCoy, flattening out a wrinkle in the tablecloth.
An irritated glint appeared in the hazel gaze, as Kirk pursed his lips together to hold back the first response that came to mind. "Yea. That's right Bones."
"It should be. For the last two weeks you've been grumbling the same thing ever since I put you on that diet. Call it logic Jim, right Spock." Grinning, McCoy winked mischievously at the Vulcan across the table.
Folding his arm's in front of him, Spock regarded the Doctor with his normal unamused expression. "Presumably so, Doctor."
"There are a number of other things I'd rather call it." Kirk murmured, also folding his arms with the air of annoyance. "What's got into you Bones? Your usual sarcastic remarks have lost most of their barb. And you've been acting as if you've just found out we're having an inspection."
"Perhaps, the Doctor has inadvertently taken a dose of his own medicine." Spock innocently suggested, tilting his head to one side in a speculative gesture.
On the verge of making a proper remark, McCoy was stopped when their waitress reappeared with a glass pitcher of ice water. Refilling their glasses, she took their orders hoping she sounded less idiotic than she believed as she tried to smile her most engaging at the three men before lingering only a moment then left the lounge for the kitchen.
"All right Bones, out with it. What's wrong? Or do I have to send Spock into the ring?" Kirk gave a nod in the direction of the Vulcan, who gave the faint impression that he was not appreciative of the reference the Captain had made.
"There's nothing wrong. And maybe that's the problem." Replied McCoy, looking into Kirk's face for the first time since they had sat down.
Blinking twice, Kirk cast a glance at Spock wondering if he had a clue to what McCoy meant. "I think you lost us, Bones. If there's nothing wrong, how can there be a problem?"
"You do have to admit Jim, Irion II is not exactly the most exhilarating place to find yourself spending twenty-four hours." McCoy explained with another sigh that was starting to get on Kirk's nerves.
"We didn't come here for fun, Bones. There is a purpose behind this." Kirk said settling into his chair, relieved that wasn't going to be anything more serious than the Doctor's wet-blanket attitude. "The 'Enterprise' was the closest ship to the meeting point with the 'Independence'. We were just lucky to arrive a few hours of relaxation. Once this assignment is done, we've got two weeks of shoreleave and you can be as deplorable as you want, without Spock and I raining on your carousing parade."
"That isn't' what I meant." McCoy snorted angrily.
"Captain." Spock suddenly broke in, his finely tuned ears catching a particular bit of what had been said that sounded odd to his knowledge of his friend. "I was lead to understand that you and the Doctor would be spending shoreleave together, while I remained on Brinzal VII to assist with the development of their new computer systems."
"Yes, Spock." Began Kirk looking instantly uncomfortable, especially after he realized there was going to be no aid from McCoy, who was staring at him with smug anticipation. "Originally...we had planned on taking leave together...However, something has come up...that I should have given my attention to a few years ago..."
A contemptuous chortle came from the Doctor at this.
Ignoring the sound, Kirk continued. "Now I've got two weeks to do something about it. No need to worry though, Spock. If I, for some unforeseen reason, am unable to make it back to the 'Enterprise', I'm sure Scotty is capable of finding the way back to Brinzal VII."
"I am not concerned with Mr. Scott's infallible navigational skills." Replied Spock staring impassively at Kirk, making him that much more uneasy. "I am interested in your need for secrecy of this matter and the reasoning you have refrained from mentioning it before."
"Possibly, because he doesn't' want anyone else to know about it Spock!" Snapped Bones, his normal cantankerous flush returning to his face. "No offense, but he doesn't have to tell you everytime he has to blow his nose or anything else if he doesn't' want to. God knows you've kept thing's from us over the years."
This time it was Kirk's turn to heave a tiresome sigh, only half listening to Bones growl on, while idly glancing around the crowded room when he basically stumbled over a figure sitting at the bar.
A sensation much akin to that of being slapped across the face, struck Kirk flabbergasted as he recognized the tall, lanky woman at the bar. In the next fifteen seconds it felt as if a hundred separate emotions and feelings, washed over him until he regained the capability to speak.
"My God, I don't believe it."
Hearing the jarred tone in Kirk's voice, Spock and McCoy immediately fell silent and jerked their bewildered stares to his startled face, then followed his gaze to the bar.
"It can't be her. Not here." McCoy quietly said, his own gaze faintly widening.
"No, it's her Bones." Murmured Kirk with a single shake of his head.
Partially turning in his chair to look at the bar, Spock spotted the woman in question. "You know this young woman?"
"It's Liberty." McCoy answered first in a nearly inaudible whisper, his gaze resting on Kirk's face.
A frown had tugged at Kirk's mouth and was filled with a strange bitterness. "To be more accurate Spock. Liberty Kirk."
