Disclaimer: This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

Notes: This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? VAPOR KITES RAGAS TIPI

Feedback welcome!

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Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence...

"She made him pay, in much the same way that you will pay, Captain," K-tel promised as she tugged on Kirk's hair again. "But, I'm getting ahead of myself. It's not time for that yet."

Kirk reared his head back from the painful tugging, and the sudden motion caused him to lose his balance. He fell into the table, knocking it over and sending the refreshment tray and its contents onto the floor. As he struggled to sit up, Kirk spotted his communicator lying nearby and made a clumsy grab for it.

"Oh no, Captain. It's not time for that either," K-tel said as she kicked the communicator out of reach, sending it flying across the room to bounce noisily off the door to the corridor. "Now sit back down on the pillows like a good boy while I straighten up your mess."

As she righted the table and picked up the tray and its contents from the floor, K-tel said, "Not that I blame you for trying, Captain; you wouldn't be you if you didn't try. In a little while, however, the hekim will have taken complete effect and we'll be able to get down to work without having to worry about being interrupted by any more of these embarrassing little attempts."

Then K-tel picked up Kirk's phaser and tricorder from the floor, walked over to pick up the communicator - and placed all three items on a table by the door. "For safekeeping," she said, "until you're ready to leave."

"Oh, so you're going to let me leave?" Kirk asked skeptically. "What makes you think you're going to get away with all of this once I've told everyone what's gone on here?"

"Because you won't be telling anyone anything."

"You sound very confident," Kirk sneered. "Just how do you intend to keep me quiet?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Captain," K-tel replied.

Kirk watched as K-tel stepped over to a tapestry on the other side of the door. The tapestry depicted a lively, if rather odd, scene. Two Jheniffurian males were in the foreground, standing by a structure that resembled a tipi. The males were idly flying kites while several women could be seen in the background, toiling in the fields.

K-tel noted Kirk's inspection of the tapestry. "Ancient history, dear Captain," she smirked. "It may surprise you to know that before our current time of enlightenment, we Jheniffurian women were actually the powerless ones, forced to perform the menial tasks while our male oppressors did nothing but live off of our labors."

"And in grabbing the power, you've become the oppressors?!" Kirk challenged. "How does that make you any better than them?"

"Because we women did not grab the power, Captain," K-tel replied. "We were forced to take it up after our males nearly wiped themselves out with war after war after pointless war. Had we not done so, our civilization would surely have collapsed - all thanks to their idiocy. They learned their lesson well. How well, I wonder, will you learn yours?"

K-tel flipped aside the edge of the tapestry to reveal a keypad on the wall. She tapped one of the buttons, and a haunting melody filled the room. It reminded Kirk of one of the tunes he'd heard in the music composition class he'd taken at the Academy. That semester, he and his fellow cadets had studied everything from the ragas of India to the unusual subsonic works of the natives of Vee-Aitch 1, who spent most of their lives as clouds of blue vapor.

K-tel let the tapestry fall back into place and turned to face Kirk. "I hope you don't mind," K-tel said insincerely. "I just like to hear a little music in the background when I get down to work..."

TBC…