Chapter Twenty-seven

In a few hours, the exchange had taken place. The Morana had been rounded up with the cooperation of Kaathos's men and were being detained in the brig. Already, the Klingon battle cruiser was preparing to warp out of Skarran space, but the Enterprise was obliged to linger until the last of its crew had been beamed aboard from their temporary exile on Skara.

Kirk had spent a reluctant hour in sickbay being fussed over by McCoy. He had only escaped by promising to return immediately if he showed any of the symptoms of concussion. An even more reluctant Spock was still confined to sickbay; Jim did not fully understand what it was that Blackstone was helping him shield against. McCoy had been a little vague about it all, possibly because it involved the unfathomable mysteries of Vulcan telepathy.

At least the doctor no longer seemed anxious about Spock's recovery – his physical wounds had been treated and the antidote to the Skarran poison had worked as well on the Vulcan as it had on the humans it had been used on. Kirk had overheard McCoy muttering to Spock about the mind meld with Blackstone and whether he felt strong enough to break the link. They had stopped speaking abruptly as Kirk approached and he got the message that what they were discussing was confidential. Bones wouldn't shut him out for any other reason.

In the quietness of his cabin, which still bore the signs of Caton's angry outburst, Kirk sighed. Apart from finding Spock alive, their mission to Skara had been deeply unsatisfying. He would need to start filing his report to Starfleet soon, but who to trust? Kirk was no politician. As soon as he could, he would contact George Woodhouse and seek his advice. In all likelihood, Caton would betray his accomplices as part of his plan to discredit Starfleet. His plans to give the hyperwarp to the Klingon Empire had failed but bringing Starfleet into disrepute had been another part of his plan and in this it seemed, he would succeed.

Kirk's intercom buzzed. McCoy. Checking up on him, no doubt, but when the medic spoke, it was not to ask how the Captain was faring, but to request that he come down to sickbay on an urgent matter. What now? Thought Kirk, wearily, but he was already on his feet.

It was late in the evening, the lighting in sickbay subdued, calming. Kirk was surprised to see Spock in McCoy's office; he had assumed the Vulcan would be resting under doctor's orders. McCoy seemed excited.

"Jim. I was checking through some bulletins that have been posted in the past couple of weeks." Kirk waited patiently, wondering what could be of such interest in McCoy's medical briefings that it warranted calling the Captain to his office at this hour.

"It seems that there's been an outbreak of Rigellian plague on Melthus IV." Kirk frowned, trying to place the planet McCoy was referring to.

"Melthus IV." He said, rubbing his chin. "That's a Klingon colony, I believe. Not too far from here."

"Indeed it is, Captain." Spock said. Both he and McCoy were looking at him in what Kirk could only decribe as conspiratorial fashion.

"Gentlemen, I fail to see…" The penny dropped. Kirk stopped mid-sentence, looking from one to the other of his officers, catching their mood.

"The ro-co- sy- minite," he said, already heading for the door.

Commander Kaathos pressed a fist to his chest then extended his arm in the Klingon salute. The head and shoulders of one of the most powerful people at Klingon High Command, Kallus, wavered on the viewscreen illuminating the gloomy bridge of the battlecruiser, then disappeared, leaving a shimmering view of stars. He had just issued Kaathos with his orders.

Less than half an hour ago, Captain James T Kirk had contacted Kaathos and advised him that a deadly strain of Rigellian plague was raging on Melthus IV, one of Klingon's most valued and lucrative colonies. Not only was it mineral rich; its position near the neutral zone made it of significant strategic importance and the Melthans were vital Klingon allies.

What Kirk did not know, was that at least six members of Klingon High Command and their families were currently posted there, on an inspection tour and if what his superior at High Command had just told him were true, three of these had already contracted the plague and would be dead in two days without treatment. A consignment of rocosyminite was on its way but had been delayed by meteor storms and could not hope to arrive in less than six days, by which time many more would have succumbed to the plague.

If what Kirk had told him were true, then Kaathos could become the hero of the hour. High Command had been astounded to hear that he could secure a supply of rocosyminite and have it on Melthus in less than two days. What was the life of a Human informer, whose treachery was now known to Starfleet, compared to this? If Kaathos had harboured any doubts about making the exchange, Kallus' promise of promotion had swayed him absolutely. Caton, bound and under heavy guard was already on his way to the transporter room.

"Captain Kirk. Given that the rocosyminite is going to be put to good use, and given that you would have had no leverage with the Klingons if we had not had it aboard the Aurora in the first place, can't you consider a little leniency when it comes to deciding our fate?" Nancy Weston's plea was exasperating. She was, he realised, a skilled manipulator, and there was some truth in what she said, but it in the end it was her lack of remorse that decided him. It was time she and her reprobate husband grew up and learned that their actions had consequences.

"I will hand you over to the authorities at Starbase Ten. It will be up to them to decide your fate. However, I'll make a plea for leniency on your behalf given that your cooperation led to a favourable outcome." He ignored Nancy's shriek of thanks and turned abruptly on his heel.

Kirk had assigned Sulu and a number of security personnel to take the Aurora to Starbase Ten. Hunter and Blackstone, he had assigned to the Shadow with instructions to rendezvous with the Enterprise at Starbase Ten also. Kravok and T'Hana would accompany them. They had opted to uproot themselves until such time as the Klingon Empire changed its ways. Kirk could not help thinking that their wait would be a long one, whatever Kort had believed.

Kort. Kirk had not had an opportunity to get to know the brave Klingon. Blackstone had been affected deeply by his death; T'Sorf's loss was incalculable. As for Hunter, he acted like a man who had lost a part of himself. Kirk looked across at Spock's empty science station. The Vulcan was still in sickbay.

Jim shuddered, thinking of how he had felt seeing that empty station when Spock was stranded on Skara, his fate unknown. Time and again, on other missions, he had refused to confront the possibility of Spock's mortality. McCoy, he knew, had faced that abyss, had brought Spock back from its edge enough times to know the reality of it. Jim couldn't afford to follow him there.

In that moment he understood why Sam's death had troubled him so much lately, why he had been so irritated when Spock had offered his condolences in the turbolift on the anniversary of Sam's death. It seemed he had always known the answer to the question he had never allowed himself to ask about his brother's death, and it was time to stop feeling guilty about it.