Kirk shimmered onto the transporter pad on Rigel, where the Prime Minister was awaiting with a jittering nervousness. He almost jumped to Kirk and reached for his hand in a desperate handshake. "Captain, thank merciful Riella you are here," he said eagerly.
"Prime Minister," Kirk nodded in deference, but eyed him with annoyance, "This is my first officer, Mister Spock, and my Security Chief, Lieutenant Chekov." Kirk motioned to the two men as they stepped off the pad, but the Prime Minister paid them little mind.
"Yes, yes, pleased. Honored. Thank you," he looked at them only briefly and then turned back to Kirk. "Captain, the situation outside has become untenable. We simply cannot speak with these ruffians any further. You must convince them to dissipate immediately."
"Prime Minister," Spock stepped over. "It was our understanding that we are simply to provide a presence, not interfere. We are here as a show of support for your government from the Federation, not to act as an intermediary in your affairs."
Kirk smiled.
The Prime Minister studied Spock. "When you speak with them, you will understand, Mister Spick."
"Spock," Kirk corrected, growing more annoyed. "And he is Commander Spock."
"Indeed," the Prime Minister turned away and began quickstepping down the hallway. "Follow me, follow me quickly. There is little time to lose."
Chekov lost his self control and rolled his eyes. Kirk caught his exasperation, and gave him a sly wink. "Just be careful," he said in a low voice.
"Aye, Captain," Chekov said, relieved that Kirk was not angry.
They followed the harried little man down the hallway, decorated with portraits of stern looking Rigellians. He ducked into a little room so fast that Kirk did not see where he had gone, and was left looking quickly in every direction trying to figure out where he had gone.
"In here! In here!" the little man poked his head out the doorframe and stamped his foot impatiently.
"Talk about your Type A personality," Kirk muttered. "Maybe we should get Bones to do a check on his blood pressure."
Spock sighed and leveled his eyes at the door. "It would seem advisable."
They followed the little man into the conference room, where a bound paper booklet was neatly placed at each chair, along with a small writing instrument. The Prime Minister stood behind a chair and motioned for the three men to do the same.
"I have prepared a small report on the group that calls themselves the Miasmans, along with biographies of their leaders and an account of their activities to date," he pointed to the booklets.
Kirk sat down heavily and flipped through the booklet, closing it with a sigh. "Prime Minister," he trailed off, suddenly unable to remember the annoying little man's name.
"Re'doque," barked the little man with irritation.
"You seem to misunderstand the nature of the assignment. We're not here to control them." Kirk explained patiently. "That is an internal matter for you and your people. We're here just as a little friendly support."
"Then I fail to understand the reason for our membership in the Federation at all!" Re'doque flustered.
"If Romulans ever attempt to corner the market in your triticale, then you will understand the reason for your membership in the Federation," Chekov smirked.
Kirk waved off the comment. "Federation membership has many advantages, the least of which being protection against hostile races. But unfortunately, acting as intermediary between arguing political factions on member worlds is not one of those advantages."
"We will take the report," Spock picked up his copy. "And we will study it before we meet with the Miasmans, as you call them."
"Perhaps you would like to meet with their leaders onboard the Enterprise, just to have it at a neutral location," Kirk offered.
"They will hardly view the Enterprise as 'neutral'," Re'doque scoffed. "Indeed, they see Starfleet as one of the most arrogant agressors of the galaxy."
"A common misconception," Kirk stood up. He did not take the report. "I will make the offer when I attempt to contact their leaders tomorrow."
Re'doque scowled. "We cannot tolerate their presence outside our capitol any longer."
"Why not? It's just a group of protestors?" Chekov shrugged.
"You have been gravely misled about the gravity of the situation." Re'doque pressed a button and a portion of the wall slid back, revealing a large window.
Kirk stepped over to make sure that he really was seeing what he thought he was seeing.
A massive crowd, tens of thousands strong, had gathered outside the capitol building.
"These are all Miasmans?" Kirk paused.
"Wait until you meet them," Re'doque sneered.
XXX
Back on the Enterprise, McCoy glanced over his shoulder to be sure that no one was behind him as he made his way to the turbolift. He had gotten lucky for the past few days, and had no one ride with him. His luck was sure to run out soon, though.
The door opened and McCoy ducked inside. He was breathing a sigh of relief when a crewman in a jumpsuit ducked inside. "Deck 3," he said hurredly, and then glanced at McCoy. "Good Morning, sir," he smiled.
McCoy couldn't help but see a little teasing in the smile, but he tried to pass it off as his own insecurities. Surely, he thought, the incident has been long forgotten by now. "Good Morning, crewman..." he paused, looking for the name.
"Lacey," the crewman gladly filled in the blank.
"Lacey, yes," McCoy nodded. "Ah, and how is that knee?"
"It's fine, sir," Lacey said quickly. "But my elbow has been giving me some trouble, sir." At the end of this, Lacey finally let go a snicker. The door opened and Lacey ducked out, laughing.
McCoy flamed a beet red, and huffed his most annoyed huff. "Don't these people have anything better to talk about?" he fumed at the empty turbolift.
The turbolift, not knowing the answer, simply hummed and continued on its way to the bridge.
The doors opened again, and McCoy, his anger barely under control, stepped out onto the bridge. Kirk was talking with Uhura about recent communiques from Starfleet. "Bones, great. Glad you're here. We just got back from meeting with Re'doque. What a jackass," Kirk trailed off. "Are you all right?"
"Fine, Jim. I'm fine," McCoy spat out. "Tell me about the situation on the planet."
"Are you still steamed about getting stuck in the turbolift?" Kirk looked at him incredulously.
"It isn't me, dammit!" McCoy's voice rose and his accent thickened. "You'd think on a ship of four hundred kids there'd be more interesting things to talk about than a man stuck in a damn elevator!"
Uhura's face contorted in repressed laughter, and McCoy whirled around at the sounds of held-back chortles and the sight of jittering shoulders. Yeoman Castro dabbed tears from her eyes as she passed with a tray of coffee cups.
"Apparently there isn't," Kirk grinned. "So get used to being the subject of the week. But don't worry, I'm sure something more interesting will come up."
"Indeed," Spock stood up from his station. "Prime Minister Re'doque's attache has just sent word that the Leader of the Miasmans has agreed to meet onboard the Enterprise at 1400 hours. I don't think I need to remind anyone that we are to function only as hosts of a neutral location."
"Of course, Spock. I'm sure that our crew will provide all the hospitality needed to make sure the Miasmans see us as benevolent, if not submitting to the forces of the universe," Kirk winked at Chekov, who couldn't help but let out a chortle.