Chapter 6

As soon as Enterprise established standard orbit around Matli, Kirk ordered a yellow alert and for Uhura to open hailing frequencies.

Two Matli cruisers took up formation at their rear; he ignored them, the yellow alert wasn't for their benefit. The Matli were a post-warp capable society, but only just and the vessels shadowing Enterprise might well be the cream of the Matli fleet, but they were woefully outmatched. Ah, yes, technology and what the Matli might do for the promise of better?

Those turgid intelligence reports — he was beginning to suspect subtext was all.

Over the next half hour he was subjected to what would commonly be called the run around. Matli's first minister was not available to take his calls, likewise the deputy minister. He caught Spock's eye, whose controlled, rigid stance, indicated his own waning patience with proceedings. Never mind. This was a game, and he could summon up the patience to play, but if he thought for a moment the diplomatic delegation was in immediate danger, Captain Hard Ass would toss out Captain Philosophical on his ear.

Well, until the Matli decided they were going to come to the dance, he had little else to occupy him. He ambled over to Spock's station, where his first officer employed Enterprise's sensors to search for Vulcan life signs,

"Any further news about the location of the Vulcan delegation?"

"I have performed several extensive sensor sweeps, yet I am unable to discern their presence and I believe I now know why. It appears transporter suppression fields are being employed on the surface. Our sensors are unable to penetrate the interference they create. If the Vulcans remain on Matli, then logically they must be concealed beneath the umbrella of those fields."

"Transporter jammers?" That made him come to a screeching halt.

"Quite so, Captain."

"This situation keeps getting better and better, Mr Spock." Transport jammers. A whole new ball game, when it came to technology, and not something the Matli at their level of technological attainment would have developed on their own terms. They might have warp drive; their ships were not equipped with transporters — at least that was current understanding. Presently, transporter jammers remained a technology not employed in Federation space, mostly since its conception and development occurred well outside the Federation, and their own technologists still worked on reverse engineering the few trashed devices which had fallen into their hands.

"Indeed, Captain."

"Anything more on the messed up Vulcan comm—?"

"Captain," Uhura butted in, "excuse me, sir, I think you should hear this." At a nod, she put it on audio.

"—pounded my ship. The Orions refuse to release my vessel. They are evasive, but I know this is Vulcan retribution. I cannot bear the costs of any delay." Whoever uttered these words lost their cool, when their contact on the surface, apparently at a loss in how to respond to the outpouring of anger and screamed threats, resorted to the simple expedient of closing the channel, reducing the distressed captain to further howls of outrage.

He snorted. Well, well, that was quick. "How about T'Pau? She got right on that!"

A crease appeared on Spock's brow. "You asked T'Pau—?"

"For a favour, yes. Er, where were we?"

A raised eyebrow signalled his first officer tabling that little tidbit of information. "You asked about the delegation's last communication. Admiral Komack did not exaggerate that it is garbled, and that the Matli invoked an exceptionally old custom of an exchange of marriage partners was also correct."

"One of the delegation was accompanied by a spouse, I mean bondmate."

"The communication makes reference to them being forcibly separated and the male in the pairing—"

"Went nuts!"

Spock conveyed a proper Vulcan affront at such a characterisation, but he didn't say anything to refute his words. What the hell were they getting into?

xxx

It was another seventy two minutes before Kirk received an invitation to the surface. An Assembly Member, it seemed, had been pushed to the front of the queue and would be obliged to speak with them. He kept the landing party small, with only McCoy to accompany him, news which reduced DeMarco, his new chief of security, almost to tears of professional despair. But bringing in a full complement of security would only serve to frighten their contact on the surface even more. Still, he had his ship monitor them and ready for an emergency beam out, if they hit trouble.

They materialised in the open air of the compound that housed the offices of the planetary council. He was not one for ostentatious displays of wealth, but the compound did not impress; it reminded him more of a down at heel college campus. A whiff of something that approached boiled cabbage in its noxiousness assaulted his nostrils.

He expected more games, expected to be kept waiting, but no sooner had they arrived than a male Matli, a bunch of flunkies dancing attendance on him, emerged from the the nearest building and greeted them.

"I never thought to witness such a materialisation with my own eyes. That was most disquieting. Forgive me, I am Assembly Member Trukoi." A claim, the formal garb of his white over cloak would bear out, except the assembly member wore it with anything other than authority. Physically, Matli were close to Terrans in appearance, but with heavier, thick-set frames. Prominent eye ridges gave them a pugnacious, almost a Neanderthal appearance. This was not his first rodeo, though, and one should never, ever judge a book by its cover. Trukoi did not include his aides, who wore darker cloaks signifying a less exalted status, in the introductions and he took his cue from him, similarly ignoring them. Horses for courses, different strokes and all that.

"I am James T Kirk, captain of Enterprise. This is Doctor Leonard McCoy, my chief medical officer."

"Gentlemen." Trukoi gave them a small bow. "My fellow assembly members have asked I speak with you. I feel I should issue a warning; I have very limited influence in governmental affairs and am at a loss as to what I may do for you."

Yeah, right. Game on, he might scoff, were it not that all his experience told him that Trukoi was a man suffering a lot of of stress. "Assembly Member Trukoi." He marshalled his most concerned and judicious face. "It is rather what I may do for you."

"Me?"

"Forgive me, Assembly Member, I should be more specific. I meant what I may do for Matli."

Trukoi stared at him, not quite understanding where he was going. "What—?"

"Have you not heard the Orion syndicate has taken your trading vessels into custody — something ostensibly about Vulcan customs violations, apparently — and, I gather, Vulcan has importuned Starfleet Command to assist in apprehending any other Matli vessels that may be operating within Federation space?"

News, judging from Trukoi's expression. The Assembly Member swallowed and a hand surreptitiously smoothed along the surface of his cloak, wiping away moisture. So much for his theory the seizure of Matli vessels was the impetus for the Matli to open communications.

"Frankly, sir, Vulcan threatens to put all of the Federation in an uproar." An exaggeration, but one the assembly member little apprehended if the slightly dazed expression on his face was any witness. "Starfleet Command, sir, has little desire to find itself in the middle of what we believe is a matter for civilian courts to address. I speak, of course, of the Vulcan delegation that I understand Matli authorities have placed under arrest, but," and he subjected Trukoi to an expression of sympathy one apparatchik might extend to a fellow traveller, a recognition of the labours one must endure for the sake of fulfilling one's duties. He had only to dwell on Komack's graceless command style to make the emotion entirely sincere. "But," he said, and allowed a pause for emphasis, "there are those in the Federation who would tell you Vulcan has a way of securing what Vulcan wants."

Trukoi quivered in a manner he deciphered was a display of Matli offence. "Is that supposed to be a threat, Captain?"

And he had been trying so hard, too.

"Assembly Member, someone with a sound grasp of how to impart menace would draw your attention to his ship, currently in standard orbit about your planet, capable of razing your cities to the ground in minutes, and downing the ships shadowing his vessel's movements in even less time. The sort of charmless fellow, who would demand the missing Federation citizens be turned over, unless Matli wished to suffer the consequences."

Trukoi swallowed.

He stared at the man. "Assembly Member, that is not Starfleet's way. I am here to help, I assure you."

Trukoi stared at him, as if trying to determine the depth of his sincerity. His shoulders slumped. "Come to my office," he said, turning to lead the way.

The invitation made him wary. In the end, he acquiesced only because his reading of Trukoi told him the man was trustworthy. What misgivings he possessed waned a little more at the sight of Trukoi's office, a space wearing all the dusty aspect of academe, even though the office was light and airy. Quite the trick to pull off an impression of prevailing fustiness, when a large window monopolised almost an entire side of the room.

Trukoi bid they be seated in ornate chairs and called for his staff to prepare tea, served in respectful silence, while Trukoi put the call out for fellow assembly members to join him in his office. Trukoi's contacts seemed reluctant to respond, and their misgivings reawakened his own hefty slug of apprehension.

"Forgive me," Trukoi said, "I must briefly take my leave."

Huh? Who would do that?

His hackles rose. No sooner had the assembly member left, than he rose to his feet and took position at the large window. He pushed aside vertical blinds and stared at the view. This facility was built on high ground and the Matli capital, bisected by a large river, was laid out as though a map on an immense table. He craned his neck further forward, until he could see the beam down point below, but he saw no sign of Trukoi. His activity disturbed and dismayed Trukoi's aides, but he spared them little mind.

He flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Spock, here."

"Locate my position, Spock. Any unexpected," translation: armed and objectionable, "visitors making a bee line for McCoy and I?"

"Negative, Captain."

Welcome relief. The tension in his shoulders eased. "Understood, Spock, but keep your eyes peeled. Kirk out."

Trukoi's people stared at him in a disciplined silence, but his worries Trukoi might be duplicitous and concerns for his and McCoy's safety, had not gone unnoticed; the expressions now trained upon him, ranged from annoyance to steely dislike. Time to talk them down, except another impediment to his cause presented itself.

The aides exhibited a frisson of astonishment he was prepared to trespass upon the bounds of custom and propriety by acknowledging them, and in so flagrant a manner, but in the end they evidently put it down to his alien ways. His, and McCoy's attention, flattered them and — after he walked back his unfortunate suspicions about Trukoi — they were very, very forthcoming. They might be young, but they were intelligent and trained for politics, unlike Trukoi, an academic, who answered his people's need for representation, when others were too fearful to do so, and for which his staff adored him. He made a note not to offend their devotion again.

They feared for Trukoi's safety, and he discovered their earlier discomfiture at him venturing near the window, resulted from an alarming incidence of political assassination. The picture they painted amounted to a world roiling in chaos. They had much to say about when that chaos had first started, which meshed with some of the intelligence he'd just read, and which he filed away for later consideration. What did not mesh was the egregious omission of why the compound of the planetary council resembled a college campus, for a campus was precisely what it was, the previous structure had been taken out with a photon torpedo.

After twenty minutes, during which the aides stared at a wall mounted clock with various levels of anxiety, one by one they fell silent.

"So, do you know what happened with the Vulcan delegation?" he asked in an attempt to get them talking again.

"First Minister, Arok Jomadai," the aide, he now knew as Eselleese, said.

"Jomadai?" McCoy asked, so far his chief medical officer had kept a watching brief, letting his captain do most of the talking.

Eselleese made a noise somewhere between a snort and a growl. "He has friends in high places."

It took him a moment to understand. "Offworlders?"

His question elicited a tight nod of agreement. "Understand, those Matli who support his bid for power, are a canker in our society. They stand for the very worst of us. They purposely went out of their way to pick a fight with the Vulcan visitors."

"The Vulcans could have been less offensive in their refusal of a Matli bride," a young aide commented, and was rounded upon by his elders for his pains.

"Don't be a stupid waste of a cloak, Dhokan. Even I know Vulcans mate for life and, unlike you, I have not been offworld."

"There's no need to be nasty, Eselleese."

Elleeese cast her gaze towards the clock again. "I apologise, but oblige me by thinking before uttering the opposition's propaganda in my presence again. Understood?"

"I don't understand why — what's his name again, Jomadai? — why did he pick a fight?" McCoy said.

"We're not sure," said another aide, whose name he could not remember. "Drunk on his own power, perhaps. Trukoi may be able to peel off the cloak around your question, but we do not know."

"We need more data," Eselleese said. "Talking of fights, the Vulcan male attempted to protect his wife. I understand he put five of Jomadai's louts in the hospital before he himself sustained serious injury and likewise joined them."

He drew in a tight breath. Not what he wanted to hear.

McCoy zeroed in on that particular detail. He levelled an open smile at Eselleese, laced with southern charm. "Y'know I have some expertise in patching up injured Vulcans. Any chance I might get to see him?"

Eselleese stared uncertainly at the doctor. "Trukoi has no authority over those who have arrested that Vulcan."

McCoy met his eye. That Vulcan? As opposed to other Vulcans over whom he might have authority?

"Tell me he's in a medical facility and not a prison cell, at least," McCoy said.

"We are not savages, McCoy." Her eyes would not meet the doctor's, though.

McCoy's own gaze flicked toward him again, but whatever he might have said was silenced when his communicator chirped for attention. "Kirk, here."

Spock. "Sir, we detect eight people I assume are en route to your position."

"Assume how?"

"Four of them are Vulcans."

"You couldn't have said that first?" He moved to the window, this time more circumspect with the blinds. "I don't see…" A clattering in the hallway outside announced their presence and a moment later Trukoi and the party trooped in.

"We are releasing these people to your care, Captain." Trukoi said.

Four down, two to go. "In that case, Assembly Member Trukoi," he said, flipping open his communicator. "I am going to beam them up to Enterprise immediately." He stared at Trukoi and his companions, waiting for objections to his obvious next step, but there was only dull acceptance. "Bones, go back to the ship with our new guests."

"Jim—" McCoy glanced at the the delegation, then at the Matli assembly members, and scowled.

"Turn that frown upside down, Bones."

If anything the scowl deepened.

"I shall be fine. Really." He knew what he was about. He read people, read them well, and these particular Matli bore him no ill will. They needed him.

Trukoi exhaled a breath when the Vulcans and a reluctant McCoy dematerialised and his office was less over run. "I shall say it again, Captain, I know not how you and your people submit to such an apparatus." Trukoi was nervous and making conversation.

"I find one gets used to it very quickly and pays the transporter no mind after a while."

Trukoi nodded, but hardly acknowledged the content of his response. Trukoi's staff went into overdrive, arranging seating and setting a kettle to heat. The assembly member waved his visitors to sit and he plonked his own form in a chair opposite his Starfleet guest. Trukoi brushed a hand against the surface of his cloak.

Trukoi cleared his throat. "Truly, Captain, we do not desire conflict. Can you help us?"

Even though his insides were already awash in tea, he sipped from yet another cup an aide presented. "Do you speak for all of Matli?"

Trukoi stared at his fellow assembly members, who fidgeted and were keen to leave all of the talking to him. "No, but enough for our world view to prevail. We can only move forward if we have the votes, and we are confident that we do, enough to oust the current coalition from power. The resolution before council was already scheduled before your arrival. It will take place tomorrow and should go someway to convince you we are in earnest."

Time for honesty. "Trukoi, the best assurance of that would be to secure the release of the remaining Vulcans. If you know where they are, my ship can beam—"

"My colleagues and I are working on their release, Captain!" When Trukoi saw that his guest was about to object, he leaned forward and continued in the most forceful tone he had used yet. "Understand, sir, that such tactics as you propose are what left us in the mess we presently enjoy. I am trying to establish trust with some of our political adversaries. There are those who have come to realise that their more belligerent associates are putting Matli on the road to destruction; they can be persuaded to come back to us, but not if we are shown to be relying on the might of outsiders."

He spent the next two hours treated to additional study in Matli history and politics, interrupted only by Spock at intervals, demanding he check in to confirm his safety and well-being, and who was duly satisfied when no duress word was uttered to indicate otherwise.

At Spock's latest call, he asked, "You assigned Ensigns Hansel and Gretel to the new duty roster?" Well, he rather thought Vulcan sensibilities would balk at Romeo and Juliet, or Abelard and Héloïse; as code, it served just as well.

"I have not. I regret to say they are delinquent in their duties."

"Acknowledged, Kirk out."

Three pots of tea later, with Trukoi demonstrating his true colours as an academic in delivering an impromptu tutorial, his companions chiming in from time to time, he gained a clearer picture of the fraught affair that constituted Matli politics. Trukoi's aides had already mentioned assassination, as a tool of political expediency, infested the whole process, but one of Trukoi's fellow assembly members was missing an arm, evidence of an attack that didn't quite succeed. Trukoi's evident apprehension took on a whole new shape and his estimation of the man and his companions went up a notch or two.

At last, his bladder, and his duties aboard Enterprise demanded his return to his ship. He took his leave of Trukoi, the other assembly members, and Trukoi's staff, and impressed upon them they should contact him if they required assistance. The blood curdling tales they had told, as if this were the daily norm, had made a big impression on him and now he worried for them. He silenced the part of himself that pointed out Command would have words for him on the matter of picking sides, since he was skirting perilously close to prime directive territory. Matli might be a warp drive capable society, but only just.

Command might bellyache, but he rather thought there would be a change of tune once it learned their intelligence reports didn't cover the half of it.

xxx