Chapter Seven: Conspirators

Disclaimer: I do not own nor profit from writing about these characters. Wish I did.

Spock considers several possible meeting places before settling on the market near his apartment. The owner, an Indian who rarely speaks but who keeps ample vegetarian selections stocked in the cooler, including several Vulcan specialties, is used to Spock's odd hours.

The market is close to the campus without being on it—and the seating is limited and private. If he sets a feedback loop in his comm, Spock will be able to jam any nearby surveillance scans.

The Ambassador is already there when he arrives. Entering the front door, Spock sees him alone at a table in the rear of the store. Stopping briefly at the refrigerated unit, he selects two light fruit drinks and makes his way to the back.

"I need to access the Enterprise's computers for more ship candidates," the Ambassador says without preamble.

Spock pushes one of the fruit drinks across the table.

"That may not be the most efficient way to find someone," Spock says, pulling his comm from his pocket and setting it between them on the table top. The Ambassador raises his eyebrows.

"You have another suggestion?" the Ambassador says, but before Spock can answer, the bell over the door tinkles and both men look up in time to see Jim Kirk poke his head around the doorjamb.

The Ambassador's face is unreadable, but Spock senses…surprise….though not anger or annoyance. He had expected a negative reaction. The Ambassador's safety—and more importantly, any possibility of success—depends on covert actions that are best kept secret by the fewest possible people.

Enlarging the circle to include Kirk had seemed logical at the time. Spock is relieved that the Ambassador appears to agree.

"What's good?" Kirk says as he pulls up a chair, and both Spock and the Ambassador look at him blankly. Kirk laughs and says, "What are you drinking?"

"Kaasa juice," Spock says, and then he adds, "but I do not advise it for you. Most humans find its flavor too strong."

Kirk wrinkles his nose and stands up.

"Is that a challenge?"

How odd. Spock's comment was intended to be helpful. Perhaps the captain needs more data.

"The odds are 96.7% that you will not enjoy the flavor," Spock says. From the corner of his eye, he notices the Ambassador watching him closely.

"My kind of odds," Kirk says, stepping away to the cooler and rummaging through the selections until he finds another kaasa juice.

Walking back towards the table, Kirk unscrews the top and takes a swig. His face contorts in a way that indicates that he is like 96.7% of humans—his eyes watering and pressed closed, his mouth turned down, his cheeks ballooned with juice.

Then Kirk opens his eyes, swallows, and coughs.

The Ambassador quirks a lip and shakes his head.

Taking several deep breaths, Kirk rubs his hand over his mouth.

"How do you drink that stuff?"

"The tasting apparatus in Vulcans is fundamentally different from that of humans," Spock says.

Kirk holds up his hand.

"I got it," he says. "We like different things."

"Not just like them," Spock adds, "but perceive them differently as well. Kaasa juice tastes like a mild mango or peach nectar to Vulcans, though humans have told me that to them it tastes like—"

The bell over the door tinkles again. To Spock's surprise, Leonard McCoy walks in and looks around. Spock darts a look at Kirk.

"Did you invite the doctor?"

"Bones!" Kirk says, waving his hand to catch McCoy's attention. "Yeah," Kirk says to Spock. "You need his help."

Spock opens his mouth to dispute that, but McCoy reaches their table and sits down first.

"Ambassador," McCoy says, inclining his head. "Spock."

"It is good to see you, Dr. McCoy," the Ambassador says, something unfamiliar in his tone. Sincerity? Pleasure? Both, yes, but nostalgia, too. Spock files that information away to consider later.

"I was just telling Spock here," Kirk says, "that they need you, Bones."

"Yeah?" McCoy says with a frown. "What's this about, Jim? You said I needed to meet you here tonight—"

"Meet us tonight," Kirk says, slapping McCoy on the back. "For a chat—and a drink."

Kirk hands McCoy the opened kaasa juice bottle. McCoy eyes it warily.

"If this is about that crazy idea to go to the Romulans—"

The Ambassador straightens in his chair and says, "It may ill-advised, but I have no other alternatives."

McCoy sets the kaasa bottle down hard on the table and leans toward the Ambassador.

"When Jim told me what you are planning, I told him you are crazy—and I mean it. If you manage to get across the Neutral Zone without being caught, you may get blown to smithereens by some of the pirates who hang around there. And if you don't get blown up, the Romulans may arrest you and execute you for violating the treaty."

The Ambassador nods somberly.

"All true, doctor," he says. "And if I do not succeed, the Romulan people face certain extinction when their star goes supernova. An entire world gone, doctor. You would not ask me to stand by and do nothing if I have even the smallest odds of succeeding."

McCoy huffs and sits back.

"No, no, of course I wouldn't."

He looks around the table, his gaze finally resting on Kirk.

"But what can I do about it?" the doctor says.

"Ah, Bones," Kirk says, handing him the kaasa juice bottle once more. "All the time I've known you, your favorite poison has always been Romulan ale. What about your supplier? You said you know someone who makes regular runs to Romulus. Think he might take a paying passenger?"

McCoy lets out another huff.

"She might," he says, "if the price is right. But I can't promise anything."

"If you give me her information, I can contact her," the Ambassador says, but McCoy shakes his head.

"No, better let me do it," he says. "She's skittish about people she doesn't know. It might take me a few days—"

The door to the market opens again and Spock looks up to see Nyota standing inside, motioning to him.

"Excuse me," he says to the men at the table. He sees Kirk and McCoy exchanging glances; most likely they are as curious as he is about why she is here.

"I'm sorry, Spock," she says, and he becomes alarmed at the tone of her voice. Her face has a sheen of sweat as though she has been running, yet the weather is unseasonably cool. "Your father is trying to reach you. He couldn't get through to your comm so he called me—"

Spock glances back at the table where the Ambassador and Kirk and McCoy are sitting. All three are watching him; he turns once more to Nyota and says, "Did he indicate why?"

"No," she says, a crease on her brow. "But he did say it was urgent."

At that Spock feels a wave of anxiety. He cannot recall ever hearing his father call anything urgent—not even accidents or emergencies that in retrospect were quite dire.

"Is he here?" Spock asks, beginning to walk to the back of the market. Nyota follows him, saying, "He's on the way back from Andoria. He said he'd be here this evening."

The Andorian initiative must have failed, then. If the Andorians have refused to help with Earth's defenses while the fleet is being rebuilt, other Federation partners will surely step in. Their aid is needed but not urgent.

Perhaps something else has happened.

He quickly relates Nyota's message and sees looks of alarm on the faces of the captain and the doctor. Even the Ambassador seems restive at the news.

They make their way back toward the front of the market where Spock hands several credits to the silent owner.

"Let's don't all leave at the same time," Kirk says, looking outside. "Bones, you go on."

"Well, okay," McCoy says, still holding the bottle of kaasa juice in his hand. He tips it up to his lips and takes a deep slug, pulls it away to look at the label, and then tips it up again to finish it.

"Here," he says, handing the empty bottle to Kirk.

"Perhaps you should go next," the Ambassador says, and Kirk nods. He tosses the kaasa juice bottle into the recycle bin and darts a glance out the door before exiting.

"Although the doctor's contact may be sufficient, we might be wise to explore more possibilities while we wait," the Ambassador says, and Spock understands that another trip to the Enterprise computers is necessary.

"I will need to check the work roster," he says, and the Ambassador answers, "I will wait for you to contact me, then."

An electric prickle brushes his hand and he looks down at Nyota's fingers on his own. Her disapproval is clear—and her anger.

He looks up at her face but she is looking past him, towards the Ambassador who has already stepped outside. Surrounding the Ambassador are five Starfleet security officers, one with a phaser in his hand.

"Ambassador Spock?" a tall, blonde security officer asks, and the Ambassador nods.

"Sir, you are under arrest."

A/N: Enjoying this fic so far? Let me know! Not enjoying it much? Let me know that, too!

Thanks to StarTrekFanWriter for her suggestions. Check out her story "The Girl's Alright" in my faves.