Rhythmic trills built up a pleasing melody of dance, enjoyment, courtesy – the quartet of chamber musicians knew their art and their business. The food bore some semblance to earth agricultural produce , and the conversations of the Rythonians offered valudbale insight. Were it possible of the landing party to ignore the memory of the aftneroon's brutal killing, this would have tanked amongst the more pleasant and instruvice meals that Kirk had been party to since entering deep space. Spock was somewhat less well accommodated – the Rythonians apparently had no concept of vegetarianism, and it was difficult for him to avoid all meat dishes without arousing interest.

"My friend has an intolerance to many foods," the doctor imporivised, and most Rythonians seemed content to take him at his words. Like most non-Darwininan cultures, Rythonians held their healers in special esteem ,and were prepared to accept McCoy as an honorary member of this guild. Most but not all –

"Indeed?" said Marat, turning a smile on Spock that somehow did not reach his eyes, "How inconvenient. And it appears that these – intolerances apply mainly to dishes of the flesh."
"I am adjusted quite adjusted, sir." said Spock.

Marat watched the Vulcan for a long moment. Then he stood, and leaning across the table, filled Spock's glass with a golden liquid from one of the decanters. "Try the seret,' he advised pleasantly, eyes not leaving Spock's – "I think you will find it much like the better of your terran wines."

Kirk winced. Consupmtion of alcholol was also forbidden to Vulcans, due to its tendency to mar the thinking abilities. Thankfully many Rythonian's kept their various headdresses on at the table, so no one had remarked much on Spock retaining the hood….but if, Marat or any other Rythonian had knowledge of Vulcan culture, the disguise would now be growing uncomfortably transparent. 'But if they know Vulcans, we're okay,' Kirk reminded himself. 'It's Spock being mistaken for a Romulan that we're worried about.'

Spock politely rejected the drink and Marat shrugged and smiled. "As you will, sir." He sat down and finished his meal. The picture of innocence again. Had anything just happened, anything at all, or was he giving undue weight to some irrational dislike of this too-smooth Rythonian diplomat?

"…to be superbly efficient."

Kirk was drawn back to the conversation. Someone had refered to the afternoon, and now McCoy was asking,

"You always execute lawbreakers? For any breach at all?"

"Any breach of the sovereign contract," Lani said. "It's terms are very clear. Imporeper behaivouis, not actual breach, is punishable by less severe penalites. As you see," she smiled as though personally proud of the fact: "Actual breach is extremely rare."

"But you asked the Leviiath – excuse me sir – but you were asked to dicate the punishment."

"The Liviathan is above the law," Marat informed them. "He or she may revoke or change the penalties at any time. So it is written in the Book."

"The Book," said Kirk thoughtfully, setting his glass down. "Is it permitted for us to see this book?"
Glances.

"It is permitted to look – not to touch," said Lani carefully. "After the meal I will take you to the Chamber of the Book."

A pedestal sat in the centr of the hall, srurrouunded by a curtain. The reast of the chamebre was dim, lit by pale bar-lights set unobstruisvely in the alcoves/

"The Book," said Lani, studying the faces, "Is a sacrted tract. "Of course there are many duplicates," Lani said quietly. "This is what you might call – a relic. We reverence it. Like many peoples, the Rythonians had their time of warfare, more intense perhaps because of our disparate origns. That is far in the past now, but memory of terror is long. The Book taught us how to become one, gave us the rules for order and survival. The Book showed us the way."
"……," Spock said so quietly that only the Captain herad him. Kirk remembered well that other planet which had taken it's societal blueprint from a book. Unfortunately, that book had happened to be ………..restulting a brutal and anarchic culture built on faction wars. A grave reminder of the consequences of culture contimantion.

Lani stepped up to the cutain and drew the curtains aside. in a clear case, set in velvet, an ancient text rested. Real paper, bound with leather so old it was flaking and falling to pieces. On the cover, imprinted in gold leaf, were the words:

"LEVIATHAN"

and underneath

"THOMAS HOBBES"

followed by several Rythonian letters – presumably the name of the translator.

"Behold the Book," said Lani quietly.

"Fascinating," said Spock.

Cruising in orbit above the sphere of Rythonia, Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott surveyed the bridge from the con.

"Anything on sensors, Mr. Chekov?" asked the Scotsman slightly impatiently – command was all very well, but the engines of the Enterprise were the first love of Scott's life, from whom he chafed to be away for long periods. Thus far, the landing party had reported every four hours on schedule, and space above was silent.

"Nothing sir," said the young Russian ensign, then "Sir! Mr. Scott! I just read sharp energy fluctuation – then the reading wanished."

Scott felt the eyes of the bridge crew converge on him, waiting. Energy fluctuations were hardly unusual in deep space. But Rython was situated uneasily close to the border of the Neutral Zone, and such fluctuations before now had heralded the approach of a Romulan vessel. The Romulans, a savage, imperial and highly advanced race, had long since developed a cloaking device to disguise their ships from sensors. But maintaing the cloak took enormous output of energy, and such fluctuations had betrayed a Romulan Warbird before now.

"Keep monitoring, Mr. Chekov," said Scotty evenly.

"Leviathan." Spock addressed the two people closest to him in the world as though he were leading a symposium. "Sixteenth century earth treatise by the Englishman, Thomas Hobbes. A theory of government, based on the premise that man is naturally brutal and anarchic, and, without firm ruling, will inevitably exterminate his fellow humans in the struggle to survive. The phrase used by Hobbes was 'perpetual war' of every man against every other. The solution to this – Hobbes maintained, the only solution – was to elect a single sovereign responsible for the preservation of order at any cost. The sovereign's word would be irrefutable law, and he or she might inflict any punishment considered appropriately – in Hobbes' time and the Rythonians', usually summary execution. The citizens agree together to obey the every ruling of the sovereign – hence the notion of a contract – in return for security and the restraint of offenses."
"Grim," said McCoy.

"Indeed. Grim, pessimistic and authoratiran – and often, ruthlessly effective. Your own earth history bears numerous examples to a greater or lesser effect. I believe that you only abolished the death penalty in-"
"Thank you, Mr. Spock." Kirk got up and paced restlessly across the room. Each landing party member had been assigned an individual chamber, but Kirk had summoned both his officers for discussion as soon as they could reasonably be excused. "So where do we go from here?"

"As I see it, we continue our mission of observation, Captain. You remember the Prime Directive."
"But all this is a result of cultural contamination in the first place," McCoy pointed out. "Did you see in the market square? There were guillotines, Spock, and God knows what those other devices-…were talking about public torture." Marat and Leni had afforded them a fuller tour of the city after the viewing.

"I believe you have a saying on earth, doctor: two wrongs do not make a right. Besides, I understand it, instances of brutal execution as return for minor offences is relatively infrequent."
"So that makes it alright, does it?" McCoy bristled. "That makes it moral?"
"I prefer not to indulge in metaphysical speculation."

A soft knock at the door. Kirk frowned and gestured them quiet, then went to open it.

A small hurricane assailed him.

That was what it felt like for an instant, before Kirk realised he was sitting on the floor with Marat's arms around him, one hand clamped across his mouth.. Spock had immediately moved to restrain the Rythonian, but Marat had ducked the nerve pinch. Now he stood, drawing the Captain with him – Kirk obeyed in case of a weapon, closed the door behind them slowly and carefully, then –

released Kirk.

In seconds the Rythonian was pinned against the wall, Kirk's hand at his throat. Marat grinned –

"Admirable reflexes, Captain," he rasped.

"I'm waiting for an explanation."
"It's coming, I assure you. First, I must ask you to trust me."
"That's quite a tall order, considering."

"Is it?" Kirk could feel the tendons in the throat pulse through Marat's hot skin, the voicebox straining. Despite himself, he relaxed the pressure just slighltly. "If I wanted you dead you'd be dead now. You think that I don't have a weapon? Then, when you opened the door, I could've shot you and both of your men before you could know what hit you."
"Why the attack?"
"I had to get in, fast. I don't have clearance for this part of the Halls. If I'm seen I could be shot on sight."
Kirk released the Rythonian and slowly backed away. Three on one and no weapon revealed, he reasoned: it didn't get too much safer. Marat made no threatening moves, but lifted a hand to rub at his throat, wincing.

"I've come to ask for your help."
"You've got a funny way of going about it."
"Bones," Kirk reprimanded. So he'd been right – there was much more to Marat than met the eye, and he wanted to hear the rest of this.

"I want you to help me save Rython. Help us."
"Who's us?"
"My comrades and I."
"An underground," said Spock. "Very common in dictatorial societies."
"Yes – underground." Marat's eyes flicked to the Vulcan briefly. "Rebels. Call us what you will. My brothers and sisters have fought for generations for the overthrow of the tyrants. What you see is no representation of Rython. P is old and feeble. His power is waning – but in his youth –" Marat closed his eyes, shuddered. "Rython was a place of terror. What was intended to maintain our safety – the sacred tracts of the Book – can be twisted – parodied beyond belief when one individual is sovereign. And there is worse to come.

"Telthan. The next Leviathan of Rython. He is – a tyrant – a monster – she delights in cruelty, and torture. The years of his reign will be more terrible than the Wars Before the Awakening. And the people are blind to this truth."

"What are you asking of us?" Kirk asked.

"There is not much time," said Marat desperately. "Leviathan P is dying. I can say no more here. I have already said too much. You must follow me."
"It could be a trick, Jim," Spock cautioned.

"It could be our only chance to help the last survivors of the true Rythonians," Kirk answered: "Those not affected by the contamination."
"You understand," Marat broke into a brilliant smile. "Now, I will let you search me. You see I am unarmed, and I have come to you at my own peril. If you refuse I will be powerless to force you."

The landing party shared a silent exchange. All knew the decision was made. Once Kirk decided a path was the right one – as Spock would say, metaphysical speculation – they knew they would embark upon it regardless of danger - or logic.

"We'll go," Kirk said to Marat, and the Rythonian nodded.

"Wait here," Marat instructed, "I'm going to scout the corridor. The guards pass by that opening intermittently on their watch route. When signal you, follow my voice."