Chapter 7

A headache. That was just the thing Jim wanted to deal with before their meeting with Tobra. He pressed his fingers against his temples, the constant drone of people coming and going from the busy café inside Federation headquarters only adding to the pressure building in his skull. He'd wanted to storm the president's office yesterday evening after the skirmish at the factory, but Bones and Spock had both advised against it. Something about cooler heads prevailing and catching more bees with honey than with vinegar.

They had two dead security officers! And one was laid up in Sickbay undergoing surgery to stabilize the crushed vertebrae in his neck. Why? Because Tobra was an idiot who couldn't tell the difference between inhuman strength and android strength. He hadn't docked on this planet to get his crew killed after they'd survived the Klingon battle. His crew trusted him to make them as safe as possible in space. Now two of them were dead.

Not even looking at all the women standing in long lines in front of digital menus made him feel better. The fact that Bones and Spock had been bickering like an old married couple the entire morning certainly hadn't helped either. Clobbering them both over the head was sounding better and better. They bickered, but this was different. It was like Bones had a thorn in his proverbial paw that needed to be yanked out, and the only way of yanking it was to pick a fight with Spock.

"Spock, just order something and get out of the damn way. People want coffee before they get dragged into another meeting about android terrorists, which is only slightly higher on my bucket list than giving ET a prostate exam," grouched Bones, who was currently second in line at the digital menu.

The half-Vulcan's eyebrow elevated. "Considering you were not so impatient you acquired the position of first in line, you can hardly gripe about the amount of time it takes for me to input my order."

"Well maybe if you'd order something normal instead of half-caf Toravasian tea with the leaves steeped for precisely two minutes thirty-one point four seconds at one hundred three degrees of heat--and don't forget the sprinkle of clove--other people could get their coffee and go about their business. Green-blooded hobgoblins and their damned sensitive taste buds." He muttered the last under his breath.

"You are quite correct, Doctor McCoy, in coming to the conclusion my palate is far more refined than that which is required to enjoy Kentucky Fried Chicken."

"Are you calling me a southern redneck?"

"Is such not a complimentary statement of your heritage?"

"Both of you stop it," Jim finally snapped. "What the Hell crawled up your nose last night, Bones? And don't give me the whole 'nothing's wrong' speech. Women are the passive-aggressive ones, not us men."

"It's personal."

"You should feel free to speak about any personal issues with us. In my experience, humans feel a measure of peace when they share their grievances with their comrades," Spock said, finally moving away from the digital menu to retrieve his order from a harried waitress at the front counter.

"What Spock said. Either you bottle it up and continue acting like a rabid hyena, in which case I might be forced to take action against whomever decks you, or you tell us what's up."

The good doctor shot furtive glances around the interior of the café as though looking for a place to hide, as though all he wanted to do was crawl into the nearest hole. Apparently there was no where to run, because he finally responded, "I spent last night with Ritha. Wipe that look off your face, Jim, all we did was kiss."

"Wait a second. Let me get this straight. You're in a crappy mood because you kissed an attractive woman? Okay, so maybe her rack is a bit on the lacking side, but other than that, she is attractive."

"There's nothing wrong with the size of her breasts, Goddamnit, and stop equating her worth as a woman with how she looks!"

Jim had never seen Bones blush before, but the man was obviously taken aback by his outburst. It was kind of cute Bones was getting all defensive on Ritha's behalf.

"I believe what Jim was trying to ascertain is why your temperament has turned foul after sharing an intimacy with a woman you find attractive when she obviously returns your affections."

"Because all women are the same. They want your world to revolve around them. Who cares if you're responsible for a busy Sickbay? Who gives a crap if you have patients waiting for you? Women don't care about your responsibilities. Their needs should come before anything else in your life."

"You got all that from one kiss. Man, you must be telepathic or something."

"Express your concerns to her, Bones," Spock said. "Given your experiences with your ex-wife and the resulting divorce, it is possible you are prescribing Jocelyn's faults to Ensign Monroe. Allow Ensign Monroe the opportunity to assuage your fears."

A female voice interrupted further conversation when the intercom system was turned on to allow her to say, "Captain James T. Kirk, Commander Spock, and Doctor Leonard McCoy, please report to the thirteenth floor."

"God, I feel like I'm in high school again," Jim said.

He hadn't even had a chance to get his coffee yet! Abandoning the idea of ever getting caffeine in his system, Jim left the café. Between android-making terrorists, Spock's impending fatherhood, and Bones' intimacy problems, he felt like he was on the set of one of those God awful soap operas women loved so much. Like dust particles in space, these are the days of our lives, Jim said to himself.

Jong Je was waiting for them outside the president's office, his expression one that was seen countless times on the faces of people at funerals when talking to relatives of the deceased. It said "I sympathize with the pain you're going through but have no idea what to say and will forget that someone just died as soon as I get in my vehicle." Some things were universal apparently.

"Welcome," Jong Je said while bowing formally. "President Tien To Tobra will see you now. On a personal level, I wish to convey my sorrow that two of your crew members were forced to sacrifice themselves for our cause."

"Thanks, Jong Je," Jim said.

The man shuddered at the use of an informal nickname but apparently felt so bad for the recent deaths he didn't correct Jim. "If there is some ceremony involved with a death in your culture, please inform me so I may attend and honor them."

"We're planning a wake. Basically, it's a type of party where we drink to celebrate the life and accomplishments of the dead. I'll let you know when it's scheduled for."

"It would be a great honor for me to attend on behalf of the people of Istabul Major." That said, Jong Je pressed a chime on the door.

Jim didn't wait for a formal invitation from the president, who was seated behind a desk piled high with data pads and old-fashioned paper and file folders. All the frustration of yesterday's skirmish and the death of his crew members bubbled back to the surface, so he grabbed the case Spock had been carrying, marched over to the president's desk, and set it down on top of the papers Tobra was going over. He flipped open the lid to reveal one of the android heads, its skin peeled back to expose a gleaming metal skull.

Tobra's reaction was instantaneous. He shoved back from his desk so quickly his chair rolled into the wall behind him. His wide eyes were focused solely on the contents of the case in front of him. His breathing was sharp. The man seemed genuinely startled.

"Tell me you didn't know the terrorists were employing androids in their attacks. Tell me you didn't knowingly withhold this information, which led to us being ill-prepared to fight them and in turn led to the death of two of my crew members."

The president's glance finally flicked away from the android head to look at Jim. He said, "This… You're telling me you fought this at the factory last night? This is an android."

"Good way to state the obvious," Bones said. "Captain Kirk asked you a question. Did you know about this before sending us to that factory?"

"No! Why would I withhold information like that? Why would I send you to what could have easily been your deaths when you have been good enough to help us?"

"So you were unaware your technology was being used to fabricate androids?" asked Spock in his subtle "I'm about to judge every word you say and precisely how you say it" tone of voice.

"There used to be an R&D division my father contracted to research the development of viable androids when he was emperor, but the program was shut down decades ago due to lack of funding and public interest. Captain Kirk, I am sorry for the death of your crew members, but I did not know this was happening. I will swear it in front of a Federation tribunal, but most importantly, I swear it to you."

A heavy breath rushed out of Jim before he sank into one of the chairs across the president's desk. Tobra's concern and ardor seemed real. There hadn't been a split second between opening the case and Tobra reacting to it as one would expect for someone who'd known about the androids ahead of time. He raked fingers through his hair. Damn, he needed some flipping caffeine.

"You say there used to be a division dedicated to researching androids. We want every file, every scrap of information, on that division as soon as possible. Maybe someone associated with the division doesn't like Federation presence here and is a member of Sovereign Istabul," Jim said.

"I'll have my assistant gather everything we have and send it to the Enterprise by the end of the day. How advanced are these androids?"

"Without an active unit to study, it is impossible for us to determine just how advanced they are. However, our scientists and engineers have determined they are far more advanced than other specimens we have thus far encountered. They possess a highly complex structural system, are capable of making autonomous decision based on outside stimulus, and also possess a rudimentary nerve center, which allows them to interact with their surroundings, and perhaps make decision based on those interactions, through a sense of touch."

"And there aren't any manufacturing logos of serial numbers on the units or the parts used to make them, so even though we all know Sovereign Istabul is producing these, we have no concrete facts," Jim concluded.

Tobra took a moment to process the information before saying, "Captain Kirk, I understand if you wish to revoke your offer to assist us in light of how dangerous these androids obviously are, however, I hope you won't. My people aren't prepared to fight something like this. Their safety rests on your decision."

"I don't think you quite understand, President. Two of my crew members are dead because of Sovereign Istabul and these androids. I'm not going to let that go unpunished. Period. End of story."

"Thank you," the president said, his eyes slipping closed for a moment as though relieved. "Then what is your next course of action?"

"In this situation, it is only logical we engage in a full investigation of Sovereign Istabul to determine who the leaders are and where their base of operations is located."

"At which point we should nuke the bastards."

"Jim, launching a nuclear warhead, even with containment protocols enacted, is a bit-"

"Excessive?" Bones finished.

"Yeah, you're both probably right. I guess we'll be going with the full scale investigation then even though it could take months to complete, months in which the body count could increase."

"Evorn En Elim will be joining us shortly, since you requested access to all the evidence we've gathered. While we wait, I'll have my secretary bring us coffee."

Caffeine! If his temples pounded any harder, he was going to put his head in a vice just to get rid of it, but at least one problem had been solved. Tobra had known nothing about the androids before sending them to the factory, a relief since Jim actually kinda liked the guy. Anyone who defied conventional formality because they had the foresight to know how stupid it was got a gold star on their homework in his book. If Tobra was off the hook, then why his gut churning with some strange sense of apprehension?

***

"I'm an idiot," Ritha bemoaned quietly into her cup of coffee in the mess hall where she'd joined Stella and Nyota for dinner. The dinner hour for first shift crew members meant the mess hall was crammed to capacity with people winding down from their day. Wait staff rushed in and out of the kitchens delivering trays of food to hungry diners, and the comforting sounds of conversations and the clink of silverware against plates created a pleasant feeling. That pleasant sense was more than welcome after last night's fiasco and the day she'd had.

She continued, "I'm a boneheaded moron. Single-celled critters are more intelligent and have better people-reading skills than I do."

"Do you want to enlighten us on just why you're so stupid you should have been drowned in a bucket at birth?" Stella asked.

"Other than the fact that you agreed to a transfer to the Enterprise and got yourself stuck working on the Bulta power grids and making repairs to the ship in the same day," Nyota said after swallowing her bite of dinner.

"Don't remind me. I spent the entire morning up to my eyeballs in fried circuits and pentonium conductors." Her back ached like someone had beaten her with a hammer, and that wasn't even mentioning her ribs. Stella had informed her after another scan last night they were almost fully mended, a shock considering she'd spent yesterday getting her ass handed to her by androids.

"I spent the whole day running samples on the poison that was introduced to Bulta's water sanitation system. On top of it, I had Bones hovering over my shoulder like a great big vulture waiting for me to make a mistake."

"My day was filled with repairing our communications infrastructure while intermittently running for the nearest recycler to heave my guts up."

"You win," Stella and Ritha said simultaneously.

"I thought you might say that," Nyota said with a smile.

"How's Scotty? I think every engineer on this ship danced a jig when the orderlies brought him down for a visit this afternoon. If he doesn't come back to work soon, Keenser is planning to bust him out of Sickbay."

"I'd like to keep him for another day or two just to make sure his system won't reject the skin grafts. If he'd been burned that badly a century ago, he'd end up scarred the rest of his life. Now, why don't you tell us why you think you're a moron?"

She raked her fingers through her hair, a banana brownie sundae on the digital menu calling her in a way that became overpowering. God knew she deserved some chocolate and ice cream after permanently lodging her foot in her mouth this morning. Maybe it would overpower the taste of sock. The order was placed before she really thought about the calorie intake. A girl deserved chocolate in times like this!

"That bad, huh? When a woman orders chocolate it's time to put protective padding on the walls." commented Nyota.

"Look, I don't normally kiss and tell, so whatever I say doesn't leave this table, okay?" At their nods, she quickly filled them in on everything that had happened, including the part where she'd royally screwed up by jumping to the conclusion Bones had called her a slut. She didn't want to count the number of times she'd done the same thing in the past. One would think she would eventually learn her lesson.

"Well, he kind of did make it sound that way," Stella announced. "Men are so freaking hypocritical. When Jim jumps in bed with a woman, he's considered experienced. If a woman knows what she wants and does the same thing, she's labeled a slut. Some stereotypes don't die no matter how old they are."

"I don't think it had anything to do with actually thinking she was a slut or looking down on her for it. You have to remember that Bones trusts women about as far as he could throw Spock. He was probably confused and scared about what he was feeling."

"I know, that's why I'm such an idiot! You don't just seduce a guy like Bones into giving you a piece of ass without letting him know ahead of time you're not expecting anything deeper from it."

"Is that all you want from him?" asked Nyota.

Ritha shrugged. "I don't do committed relationships well. The guys I've fallen for in the past prove I have a bad track record, so I was just looking to have some fun with him, maybe see if there's something deeper there, but nothing serious."

"Why don't you do committed relationships well?"

"That's a topic for another day, Sis. Now there's going to be awkwardness every time I have to be around Bones."

"So apologize," Nyota concluded.

"They should both apologize. Bones could have explained himself instead of leaving it the way he did."

Apologizing sounded like the best route to take to keep the awkwardness on the lowest scale possible, so Ritha shifted the conversation away from herself when she asked, "So how are you adjusting to being pregnant?"

Lieutenant Uhura didn't respond at first. Her smooth brow furrowed. Her nostrils flared as though trying to pick up on some subtle smell in the air. "Do you two smell anything?"

"Um, I smell an incoming banana brownie sundae," Ritha supplied helpfully when she saw a waitress approaching their table.

Only the waitress didn't look well. The woman looked a little green around the gills and paused to mop at her brow with the sleeve of her uniform. A man shot from his chair to catch her around the waist when she started sinking to the floor. Not even a second later, several others collapsed at their tables. That was when Ritha felt the first effects of a gut-grinding queasiness take hold of her.

"Sensors detect unauthorized air-born anomaly. We are enacting containment protocol and elevating status to yellow alert," Chekov's voice could be heard saying over the intercom systems. "All crew members required to wear oxygen masks."