Three shimmers of light hovered briefly above the earth on the surface of Rython. The shimmers resolved into two human forms and the ascetic form of the Vulcan. Spock and McCoy immediately engaged their tricorders to gather readings on the atmosphere and geographical formations.

It was a strangely nostalgic place – reminiscent of the last town-and-country settlements on earth before industrial takeover. And yet not so. Ordered rows of white-washed buildings, tailored fields of grass – somewhere a radio or other primitive transmitter broadcasted softly. Fat green birds clicked about in someone's yard.

"It would appear that the general populace is not party to the techonological advancements of the higher echelons."
"Or want to be," the doctor finished Spock's observation with a gesture to one of the houses. A small and childish face appeared momentarily in the open doorway, fascinated by the beam-down. Now an adult turned the small one firmly aside, exuding distrust and distaste. There was no time for a good look at the Rythonians, but they weren't left to wonder –

"Gentlemen," the voice from the audio channel was instantly recognisable, and the body suited it well. Marat of Rython was young, dark eyed, graceful, with a regal bearing but an easy, open smile. Small, rounded antennae, less conspicuous than the Andorian, protruded from the hair on either side of his scalp. He strode forwards, blue robes of office swishing around him. A small group of Rythonians, also in blue robes, hovered politely behind him.

Kirk inclined his head. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk; this is my first officer Mr. Spock and Chief Medical Officer Dr. McCoy."

"You are welcome. I believe this is correct." He shook hands with the two humans, then – did something, a shadow, pass over the warm eyes as he confronted Spock? Kirk briefly wished they'd had time for a better disguise that simply concealing Spock's ears. At least the cloak was not out place – Rython was cold – and the Rythonians themselves were far from a uniform appearance. Generally humanoid, antennaie aside, they were unmatched in shape, size and feature. Of Marat's contingent, one was as short as a dwarf and more frail than a human child, another towered six inches over the delegate and bore a blue tinge to his skin. A third – female this time – stood at least six foot, with narrow bones and long ice-white hair bound behind in an ornate braid. Her eyes were shocking violet.

"My second, Lani," Marat introduced her.

"Welcome to Rython," the woman smiled. "We will now escort you to the Halls of Governance, and seat of Leviathan P."

When the name of the ruler was spoken, all the Rythonians bowed their heads and briefly crossed their palms across their breasts in a gesture of reverence. The landing party imitated hastily. Marat and Lani led towards the central settlement: here, the buildings were larger and more imposing. Order reigned in the streets – clean, calm, functional order – traders and craftsmen, parents and children. Houses, halls, shops, and administrative buildings were laid out in a regular pattern, interspersed with groomed areas of parkland. Under his breath, Kirk murmered,

"Beta III."
"No Captain," said Spock. "The patterns of life bear a certain similarity to that computer-regulated society, but this is not a collective consciousness. The Rythonians are individuals – they exhibit idiosyncrasies of manner, movement, speech-"
"But where's their vitality, Spock? Aside from Marat and his people, you'd think they went out of hteir way to keep their heads down and ignore us."
"They are, as you observe, a private people doctor."

"There's privacy, Mr. Spock, and then there's just plain rude."

"Look there." Kirk gestured surreptitiously to the corner of a street, where a small group of strong-looking Rythonians stood and watched, making no attempt to conceal the electronic weapons at their hips. "Law enforcement officers, wouldn't you say? Looks like peace comes at a price."
"When didn't it, Jim?"

"The Halls of Governance," Marat announced, turning round with a smile and a flourish. The edifice in front of them recalled, if anything, an extremely large and elaborate guildhall, composed of many quarters. But a well-guarded one, Kirk noted silently, observing the armed guards and tall metal rails surrounding the whole of the structure. "I must ask," Marat continued seriously, "that you approad the Leviathan with the utmost reverence. He – or she – is the pillar of our peaceful society, the very glue that holds our people together."
"We have encountered monarchies before," said Spock politely, and Marat shot him a look that was now unmistakeable – cool, controlled dislike.

"I'm sure you have, sir," said Lani, "however, our system is more – complex – than the primitive forms of monarchy."

Kirk concealed a double-take as they crossed the guarded threshold. Contrast could be highly effective. Gone were the dark, sombre tones of the outer walls – this whole chamber was adorned in something like white marble. A sweeping archway opened to a highly polished walkway – at the far end, a dais was raised high before deep blue drapes. Wide, high windows and the sheer expanse of the chamber gave an impression of emptiness – though in fact guards and diplomats stood quietly either side of the walkway, and silenced as the visitors entered.

Marat and his people walked solemnly down the carpet and dropped to their dais before the dais, making the palms-breast salute. The landing party did likewise.

"You may rise," came the voice, and upon obeying, Kirk got his first good look at Leviathan P of Rython.

'Mortal God' seemed hardly and appropriate title for the pale, drawn-looking individual swamped by his weighty robes. A great ceremonial seat made the monarch yet smaller and frailer – her feet were nowhere near the dais. At his right hand sat a handsome, strong-looking man with some resembelance of cheek and jawbone – presumably the heir apparent. The voice that gave orders was weak, hoarse and papery. Judging the age of alien beings was never an accurate science – but this one, Kirk guessed, was either very old or very very ill.

"You are permitted in Rython. I am Leviathan P, Mortal God of the Rythonians. I wield both power and peace. Name yourselves."

They did so, though the monarch undoubtedly well knew, and Leviathan P nodded. His eyes closed, briefly, as though the effort of the ceemrony tired him. McCoy shifted uncomfortably beside Kirk, radiating frustrations. The doctor had never been for formalities, and probably considered it some kind of professional insult for this to proceed at the expense of a person's health. Kirk transmitted him a silent message: 'Don't. Say. Anything.'

"We will have rooms assigned you in the Halls, which you may use as a base for your research. You may have limited - use of the archives and –"
An alarm sounded. The noise was shrill and horrible amplified by the hall's expanse, and Spock codl not prenevet a brief expression of pain as his Vulcan ears were assailed. Ordered chaos reigned. Guards barked orders, troops moved, the monarch had abruptly stood –

"Theft attempt, courtyard C," snapped a blue-sashed Rython, engaged with a two-way radio – the landing party shared a few raised eyebrows.

"Must be some theft," said McCoy.

A large continguent of the guard marched swiftly for the exit, the Leviathan assisted by an aide at either side. No-one addressed the visitors, so they followed at a surreptitious distance. The procession emerged in a yard, where a female Rythonian, appearing scarcely an adult, was dragged forcilbly over the paving slabs, begging for mercy. Kirk felt his fists clench involuntarily.

"Prime Directive," murmered Spock.

"Elsania, daughter of Han," intoned a blue-cloaked Rython. This one wore a silver band around his forehead, twining intricately round his antennae. "You stand accused of theft of another's rightful property-"
"Please! I have a son!"
"Theft is in breach of Contract. This is contrary to the Law of the Book."

"But we have to eat-"
"Silence!" One of the guards hit Elsania soundly across the face. A thin stream of orange blood trickled from her nose as she hung her head.

"Theft is contrary to the Order of Society," the decorated one went on, "The right to property is a sacred right which the Leviathan upholds. So it is written in the Book." By this time, a large crowd of Rythonians had gathered in the street beyond the railings and were gaping silently at the scene. "Sovereign," the speaker turned to the monarch, making the gesture: "What is your will with the girl?"
"She dies," said the papery voice, tired-sounding. The girl looked bitterly resigned. As the landing party looked on in horror, the two guards marched the prisoner towards one wall of the courtyard. To his revulsion, Kirk realised the wall was stained and smeared with faded orange blood.

"This is barbaric!" McCoy exclaimed. "What did she steal, a loaf of bread?"

"We must not interfere," Spock said without infelction. Kirk gritted his teeth, knowing his First Officer was right. Every starship captain in the Federation swore to sacfrice his life, his ship and his crew before violating the Prime Directive of non-interference. "This is their way. The girl knew the law when she broke it. To carry out the sentence is their right."
"We can't just-:
"Correct, doctor. We cannot." The un-Vulcan interruption conveyed the strain Spock felt with them. The prisoner was set against het wall, hands cuffed to rings – no longer resistant, she regarded the guard opposite with dull yellow eyes. "Tell my sister to care for my son," she said, "Her name is Elsai. We live in the market quarter." Some murmers of acknolelsdgement from the crowd. Then the guard raised the weapon and fired a single shot between the prisnoers' eyes.

Death was death. They'd seen it in a thousand maniesations, many more horrible than this. Kirk guessed that the girl knew no more of hers than any enemy disintegrated by a phaser. The gore and spray and colour were strictly for the edification of the crowd. But death was death. Still.

"What were we saying earlier," Kirk said quietly to McCoy who was frozen next to him, "About peace coming at a price?"