Opalescia Tau, so named for the rainbow-hued iridescence the terraforming process had deposited in the planet's sand, soil, and stone, might have sprung from the pages of an illustrated book—perhaps, T'Anna thought, one of the many fairy tales she had read with such rapt attention as a child. Wherever she looked, a profusion of brilliant colors shimmered and winked as if in reply to her wondering gaze, for the architects on Opalescia Tau had reveled in the possibilities afforded them by the planet's unconventional building materials. On this day, when the sky was blue and the wind brisk, the effect was dazzling. To the casual observer, Opalescia Tau would no doubt seem magical, even idyllic, hence its appeal as a tourist destination.
But she was hardly a casual observer, for she knew that the idyll was in danger. As she stood waiting in the wide stone arch that fronted the administrative palace, she wondered what was happening elsewhere in the city. Where was the governor? Was he responding to another incident? She looked down the hill toward the horizon. A glint of sun off metal told her that the official motorcade would arrive momentarily. Until then, she would savor the multiplicity of colors that gleamed and whispered all around her. Perhaps someday she could make her home here with Spock, here in this enchantingly lovely place that held no dark memories. She wished she could speak of them to Spock, but she dared not. Even absent the rule of the seal—
"Ambassador!" Lutton was approaching the archway at a trot. When he drew alongside her, he shook her hand warmly. "You honor Opalescia Tau with your presence."
"I come to serve," she replied, reciting her portion of the time-honored exchange.
"Glad that's out of the way. Can't have you thinking I don't know how to observe the niceties." He smiled at her.
She smiled back. "It's good to see you again, Governor. Truly."
"Likewise." He searched her face. "Are you doing all right?" She nodded. "That's good to hear." But he sounded distracted. "Did McCoy make it out here?"
"Yes, Governor. He's waiting for us in the conference room, as are Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, and Mr. Scott."
"Very good. The gang's all here, then, except for Ambassador Sarek. He's running five minutes behind us. Said his shuttlecraft was late and we should start without him. Shall we go in?"
SCENE BREAK
Entering the conference hall at Lutton's side, T'Anna was reminded of the music room aboard the Enterprise, for the décor was decidedly Rococo: peach-colored walls trimmed in gold gilt, matching peach-and-gold chairs, an ornate crystal chandelier in which a thousand rainbows danced, and a long rectangular wooden table so highly polished that it bore reflections from the tall arched windows.
Everyone at the table rose. "Please take a seat, everyone," said Lutton. He pulled out the chair to his immediate right and held it for T'Anna, who murmured acknowledgment as she settled herself at the table. Spock seated himself at T'Anna's right. Kirk, McCoy, and Scott sat beside him. Two Klingons whom T'Anna did not recognize took their seats as far away from the Federation contingent as they could.
Lutton seated himself. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to begin by thanking you all for coming. Let me introduce everyone. Ambassador T'Anna, you know our Starfleet officers, of course—"
Of course, Governor. She smiled gently.
"—Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Mr. Scott, and Dr. McCoy. Also with us today are two representatives of the Klingon Empire—" He broke off as the door opened to admit Sarek, whose patrician features would have marked him out as Spock's father even had she not known him by sight. "Ambassador Sarek, welcome."
Sarek nodded. "Governor."
"We were just introducing ourselves. I believe you've met our Klingon representatives, Kozsvar and Kovacs, and I'm sure the Federation delegates need no introduction."
"Indeed," replied Sarek, deadpan. T'Anna suppressed another smile.
Lutton beckoned to him. "Please take a seat."
"Thank you, Governor." Sarek seated himself beside Scott. "I trust you will forgive my tardiness."
"That's quite all right, Ambassador," Lutton assured him. "The important thing is, you're safe."
T'Anna contemplated the aptness of this reply. Not only was it a kindness, it also served to emphasize to all present the purpose and urgency of their meeting. If this approach was typical of him—and she had no reason to believe it wasn't—then Thomas Lutton was a very fine diplomat indeed. Yet he had entrusted the negotiations not to Sarek, who was years her senior, but to her. For the moment at least, the stage was hers. She took a deep breath. "Gentlemen, I'd like to thank Governor Lutton for his kind hospitality"—he dipped his head briefly—"and also to join him in thanking all of you for coming here today. I understand that the governor has briefed you as regards the particulars of the current crisis, and I need hardly remind you of the gravity of the situation, but I am grateful for your willingness to meet. That willingness tells me that you favor an amicable resolution."
Nods around the table.
"I should like to pose a question to all of you: How would you like to see this matter resolved?"
"Peaceably," Lutton replied.
"Pah!" Kovacs scoffed. "We are Klingons! We do not live in peace! We do not desire peace!" The other Klingon, Kozsvar, nodded assent. One look at the two of them told T'Anna they had to be identical twins. Their eyes were equally almond-shaped, their hair equally dark and curly, and in all likelihood, their tempers equally volatile. "Peace is anathema to us—we are fighters, hunters! Without war, we have nothing!"
T'Anna regarded him with interest. "What does war give you, Kovacs?"
His answer came readily. "A life of honor! He who takes my weapon takes my honor!"
"I can understand that," Lutton said. "But a battle between forces of uneven strength is not honorable, is it?"
"No!" interjected Kozsvar. "It is not!"
Kovacs whirled on his brother. "Be silent, Kozsvar! Waging a war using weaponry you know to be superior is simply good strategy. And good strategy wins every battle—as you well know and as we were both taught! But perhaps you have forgotten that—and perhaps you have also forgotten that I am your elder and your better!"
"Gentlemen—" began T'Anna.
Both brothers ignored her. "Why is it, Kovacs," drawled Kozsvar, "that an age difference of three minutes makes you my better?"
"What insolence!" shouted Kovacs, rising and drawing his knife. "I shall not stand for this!"
"You appear to be standing now, sir," Spock noted.
T'Anna's incipient smile vanished as the elder Klingon brandished his knife in a hand that shook with fury. "Attend to your own affairs, Vulcan, and leave me to mine!" Kovacs ran around the long table, making for Spock. Before he could get there, however, Kirk and Scott overpowered him, Kozsvar sat on top of him, Sarek relieved him of his knife, and Spock incapacitated him with a neck pinch before reseating himself, his expression utterly bland.
Lutton, meanwhile, had taken advantage of the confusion to summon three gold-uniformed guards, who arrived within moments and sized up the scene in one practiced glance. On the governor's signal, they handcuffed Kovacs and removed him from the room.
"We value our peace," said Lutton as if an explanation had been requested. "Race hatred has no place here. Neither does violence. And it's hardly honorable to draw knives at the negotiating table."
T'Anna wondered at the source of Kovacs' hubris. Klingons, though a warlike people, did not typically attack members of their own house. Keeping one's battle skills honed was expected. But turning them against a relative in earnest was anything but.
Kozsvar looked around the room, dividing his gaze among everyone present. "Please accept my apologies for my brother's actions. I have always believed that a war fought against an unarmed or poorly armed adversary is not honorable—an idea with which my brother disagrees."
"I'll let him apologize for himself in the holding cell," Lutton replied grimly, "as soon as he wakes up. In the meantime, we have a bigger problem to solve. Shall we continue, Ambassador?"
"Certainly." T'Anna turned to Kozsvar. "What is the source of your disagreement with your brother?"
"Only a coward or a fool fails to carry an adequate weapon," he responded. "Klingons are not cowards, Ambassador. Neither are we fools. And I see no reason for us to engage in combat with those who are. They are unworthy opponents and hence beneath our notice."
"I could kick you off this planet for that," mused Lutton in a tone that fell just short of admiring. "Except that I'd be playing right into your hands. Besides, I want to hear what the ambassador has to say."
T'Anna exchanged glances with Spock and Sarek, who nodded, tacitly agreeing to follow Lutton's lead and ignore Kozsvar's thinly veiled insults against their homeworld. The young warrior had to be aware that Vulcans did not carry weapons—except, of course, during the koon-ut
-kal-if-fee ritual, about which he, like other Klingons, knew nothing at all.
"Governor," asked T'Anna, "do I understand correctly that no citizen of Opalescia Tau is permitted to own or carry a weapon?"
"That's right."
Kozsvar sneezed violently. From her experience with her aunt, T'Anna knew that Klingons did not like to have attention drawn to self-perceived bodily weaknesses of any sort, up to and including coughing or sneezing. Hence, she gave a tiny shake of her head, trusting that Lutton and the others would interpret her nonverbal signal correctly, and persevered with her questioning. "What of tourists and long-term visitors?"
Lutton sighed. "Easily forty percent of them carry at least one weapon—I had my security chief run the numbers for the third time last week. And many of them carry multiple weapons. We have to put a stop to this."
"With respect, Governor," said Kozsvar, "I continue to share my brother's belief that a Klingon who is deprived of his weapons is deprived of his honor. Even if we were to relinquish our weapons voluntarily upon arrival, we would be defenseless against Federation phasers."
T'Anna regarded him thoughtfully. "Perhaps not," she said. "Suppose I told you that you need not relinquish all of your weapons while on this planet—and moreover, that there would be no phasers to trouble you. What would you think of that?"
Not much, his eyes said. "Ambassador, must you speak in riddles?"
"Forgive me, Kozsvar," she answered. "What I would propose is no riddle. Would you indulge me for a moment?"
He nodded curtly. "Very well."
"Thank you." She turned to Lutton. "Governor, I'm given to understand that Starfleet personnel are trained in hand-to-hand combat involving knives. Is my understanding correct?"
"It is."
"Captain Kirk?"
"Agreed."
"In that case, please allow me to propose a solution." She paused for effect. "One: that each person or other sentient being, regardless of nationality or allegiance, be permitted to carry a single knife—"
Lutton cut her off. "Why a knife, Ambassador?"
Kozsvar preempted her reply. "Because it is the responsibility of every honorable Klingon to carry one."
"Carrying a knife wouldn't be a requirement, though, would it?" asked Lutton.
"No, Governor. Not under the laws of Opalescia Tau. Under this proposal, each resident or visitor would carry a knife if and only if that resident or visitor wished to do so." Lutton's expression cleared. "Said knife would be suitable for close combat. Two: that all persons and other sentient beings be prohibited from carrying any other weapon while on the planet's surface."
Kirk stirred in his chair. "Forgive me, Ambassador, but I don't relish the prospect of leaving those under my command poorly protected, and I suspect that Starfleet Command would feel the same way."
"Captain," Lutton replied, "the welfare of every citizen and visitor on this planet is my concern—not Starfleet Command's."
"And the welfare of those under my command is my concern at all times," retorted Kirk. "You were a former Starfleet captain yourself, Governor. You know that as well as I do."
"Yes, Captain, and you know the Prime Directive as well as I do. We on Opalescia Tau have always chosen not to own or carry weapons. Allowing large numbers of Starfleet visitors, even those on shore leave, to carry multiple weapons runs counter to the culture of this planet, and I cannot permit that."
"Gentlemen," T'Anna interposed. Kirk, Lutton, and Kozsvar all looked at her. "It seems to me that the solution now before us addresses the concerns that all of you have voiced. Visitors to Opalescia Tau would be permitted to carry a single knife so as not to be rendered defenseless"—Kirk nodded—"or find themselves involuntarily deprived of the honor that is due them." Kozsvar nodded in turn. "However, neither visitors nor residents would be required to carry a weapon unless they wished—or in the case of Starfleet personnel, were asked—to do so."
"That's all well and good," objected Lutton, "but how would we keep all the knives out of bars and hotels and such?"
"In point of fact, Governor, you wouldn't," T'Anna replied.
Lutton regarded her quizzically.
"These bars and hotels, Governor—do they all have private rooms?"
Lutton's quizzical expression hadn't changed. "Of course they do, Ambassador. Why do you ask?"
"Because one room in each of those venues could be designated as a place of combat."
"Makes sense to me," said Lutton.
Kozsvar sneezed again.
McCoy, who had contributed nothing to the discussion thus far, asked, "What happens if someone is wounded in one of these sanctioned places of combat and there's no doctor in the house?"
T'Anna began to speak, but Lutton preempted her. "I'll take this one." He turned to McCoy. "Bones, I'm glad you could make it. It's good to see you."
The two men exchanged smiles.
Lutton said, "To answer your question, this planet is very small, as I'm sure you noticed on your way in."
"I certainly did. Mr. Spock and his infallible sensors saw to that."
T'Anna's lips twitched; Kozsvar sneezed a third time.
"On Opalescia Tau," continued the governor, "all of the major tourist venues are located in the town center, within a few city blocks of one another. The hospital is central to all of these locations. In the event of an emergency, first responders would arrive at any one of these venues within five minutes."
"Very good," McCoy said. "I only wish everyone were so well-prepared."
"Thank you, sir." Lutton's Southern politeness was showing. "We aim to please."
"I'd say you're succeeding."
They smiled at each other again.
"Governor, Ambassador," said Kozsvar, "I must point out that when large numbers of combatants are present, the confines of a small space may not suffice."
"Indeed." T'Anna knew he wasn't exaggerating; she had seen a few such fights herself. "Governor, the city has a gymnasium, has it not?"
Lutton nodded. "More than one. Several."
"May I propose, then, that one of them be designated as a place of combat to be overseen jointly by Klingon and Federation personnel?"
"That would be acceptable," replied Kozsvar.
"That does seem reasonable," Lutton agreed. "And before you ask, Bones, all of these gymnasiums are—again—centrally located. Securing prompt medical care won't be difficult."
"Understood," responded McCoy.
"Thank you, Doctor." T'Anna regarded each participant in turn as she spoke her next words. "Gentlemen, have you any outstanding questions? Concerns? Objections?" But there were none—not even from Spock or Sarek, both of whom had kept their own counsel thus far. "May I trust that the proposed course of action meets with your approval?"
There was a brief silence before Kozsvar nodded his approval. Seeing this, Lutton broke into a smile.
It was done. She had succeeded.
McCoy was the first to speak. "You do realize this'll set military technology back four hundred years."
T'Anna smiled. "Only on this planet, Doctor." And to Kozsvar, gently: "Is honor satisfied?"
"It is satisfied." He shook hands with Lutton before turning back to T'Anna. "You acquit yourself well, Ambassador."
"It was my honor to assist." Engaging in diplomatic negotiations had always been a pleasure as well as a duty for her, and the successful drafting of an agreement constituted a personal triumph as much as a professional one. Moreover, because two of the disputants were Klingons seeking to secure honor for others of their race, this particular agreement would help, albeit in a modest way, to repair the fabric that had been rent in her departure from her homeworld and her aunt who had prized honor above all else. She kept her voice steady as she said, "If I may be of service in any other way, please contact me."
"I shall, Ambassador."
T'Anna turned to Lutton. "Governor, to confirm: Are we agreed?"
"We are." Lutton did not trouble to conceal his relief.
She turned to her other Federation colleagues. "Gentlemen . . . ?"
"Agreed," said Kirk. "I only wish I'd thought of all this myself." He smiled at her. She responded in kind.
McCoy chuckled. "I'd say you've done your good deed for the day."
Scott nodded. "Aye."
Sarek said, "Logical."
Spock was the last to respond. He thanked her quietly in Vulcan and took her hand under the table.
