The truth is more important than the facts. ~Frank Lloyd Wright
Kirk and McCoy arrived at the safehouse, fully aware that they were being observed. As the Hummer was registered to the Consortium, they knew they were safe pulling into the driveway and on into the garage that magically opened at their approach.
"McCoy. Kirk," Willie no-relation-to-the-singer Nelson said as they left the Hummer.
"Nelson," McCoy responded with a nod. Nelson was the type of person you would expect to be a bodyguard. Nondescript in every way. Brown hair, kept short. Brown eyes. Fair complexion. No memorable freckles, birthmarks, scars. Medium height. Medium build. His most memorable characteristic was his name for which he never had forgiven his parents. "You coming to Dushanbe?"
"Up to you. I will if you want. I'm here otherwise," he said, eyeing Jim and returning his attention to McCoy.
"Jim?" Bones asked.
"Sure," Jim confirmed. "Make me more comfortable if you come."
"That's fine then. January said it was your call. When I don't check in from here, she'll know."
"Right," Jim agreed. "Prime Minister ready?"
"He is. His wife is…a handful."
"Very lively," McCoy agreed.
"To say the least," Nelson said. He turned and entered the house, Gaila greeting the newcomers with her usual enthusiasm.
"Jimmy. Len. I knew we'd see each other again soon. I said that didn't I Grigory?"
"She did. Good of you to come," Grigory said, shaking their hands in turn, Gaila kissing them on the cheek.
"Our pleasure, Minister. Are you ready?" Jim asked.
"Ve are. Thank you," he said to Nelson when he reappeared with two small totes.
"How's your arm, Jimmy? Is it all healed up? Do you have a scar? Can I see it?"
"Much better. Yes it is. Yes I do. No you can't," Jim said with a laugh.
She shrugged, cheerfully following them out and into the garage. "Are you coming Willie?"
"I am," Nelson agreed, climbing into the Hummer. Bones also climbed into the back seat, leaving the more comfortable front seat for the Prime Minister. Not that the back seat wasn't plenty large enough for the three of them.
"How long vill it take to be arriving in Dushanbe?" the Minister asked Jim as he pulled out of the garage.
"It's 20 minutes to the airfield. Then it will take us 76 minutes to arrive at the airfield closest to Dushanbe. We'll have to drive the last 45 miles. There will be car at the airfield for us to use," Jim explained.
"Da," Illich-Svitych said with a nod.
"I was told I may have to remain for the vetting of your security, Minister. Do you need me to stay?"
"Da," he said. "I have been gone for longer than one year. My supporters they remain loyal. I cannot know who may have infiltrated."
"That's fine," Jim said, sort-of listening to Gaila's running commentary. She was talking to Bones, telling him every detail of their lives while they had been in exile and how nice it will be back home where they belong and Grigory was the best Prime Minister ever and why he was deposed was still a mystery and just so completely totally wrong, wasn't it? She barely paused to breathe until they reached the airfield, driving the Hummer directly into the hanger.
"Are you flying us, Jimmy? Willie said he can too. Can you, Leonard? Are you a pilot and a doctor?"
"I am flying us," Jim agreed.
"I am a pilot," Leonard confirmed. "And a doctor."
"Of course you are. You are so smart. Wow. You know so many things. Doesn't he, Grigory? Isn't he so smart?"
"He is," Illich-Svitych agreed with an indulgent smile. That he was accustom to and accepting of her enthusiasm about… everything was both obvious and endearing.
They entered the shuttle, settling into the seats, Jim in the pilot position, Willie taking the co-pilot duties. "Everyone buckled in and ready?" Jim asked, turning to check with the passengers. Assured that they were all prepared, the shuttle left the hanger for the journey to Tajikistan.
~o0o~
"This is Spock," he reluctantly acknowledged when his assistant informed him that Mr. Pike was on the line for him.
"Mr. Spock," Chris said. "Thank you for taking my call."
"What is it you require, Mr. Pike?"
That he was abrupt was not a surprise to Chris and he had to stifle his own rebounding impatience before answering. "Mr. Kirk requested I call."
"Indeed," Spock said, his voice cool, impassive.
"Yes. He regrets the manner in which he left."
"He regrets," Spock repeated. "He told you that we were together when he left?"
"He said that he was in your company. And that he had to leave unexpectedly. There were no details other than those."
"I see," Spock said, knowing the other man was lying. But what good would come from calling him on his prevarication? It occurred to Spock that his research had not included Christopher Pike, an omission he would rectify as soon as he terminated this phone call. "He could not call and explain for himself?"
"He is unavailable and will remain so for several days."
"Unavailable," Spock repeated. "What precisely does that mean, Mr. Pike?"
"That I was asked to call and express his regrets. There is nothing further I can add."
"Nothing further you can add?" Spock responded, evenly and with barely perceptible impatience.
"Nothing," Pike said. He knew the game Spock was playing. Chris was also a pro at verbal dueling. He could teach master classes on the finer points of it.
"I see. Then you and I have nothing further to discuss."
"Very well," Pike said. "Good-bye, Mr. Spock."
"Good-bye, Mr. Pike." Spock hung up the phone, focusing on his computer. A search on Christopher Pike returned little information that would provide additional insight. The only hint of anything unusual was the sentence buried in the profile: Pike's inexplicable relationship with Kheri Uhura remains impenetrable and equivocally parental in nature.
The Uhuras. They were the key to this mystery. Yet his perusals into the data storehouse had done nothing to reveal the true nature of their influence over Jim Kirk and those who congregated around him.
Spock looked at his cellphone when it rang for attention, not entirely surprised that it was his father on the other end. Not surprised despite the fact that it was not yet 5 o'clock in California. "Father," Spock said.
"Spock," Sarek responded. "What is this sudden interest you have in the Uhuras? You have never shown any interest in the rivals of the Clan previously."
Spock paused before answering. He had been expecting this phone call and now that it had come, he still did not know how to respond. The truth was always the safest course to follow but his father would no doubt disapprove of his nascent relationship, a relationship that had ceased in its infancy. "Jim Kirk has an unexplained connection to the Uhuras."
There was a long pause on the other end before his father finally broke the silence. "Jim Kirk."
"Yes," Spock confirmed reluctantly. "He and I met to discuss the revisions to his novel. It turned into… more."
"More," Sarek repeated, clearly displeased by this news. As displeased as he ever allowed himself to sound - which was to say that only his family would know he was experiencing any negative reactions at all.
"Yes." He did not think a response was required but the silence was hanging too heavily.
"And you believe him connected to the Uhuras."
"He had a party for Marjorie Kel'pol to which he invited me. Tahla Uhura was in attendance."
"She was," Sarek said. Spock was uncertain if that was a question or a confirmation of information Sarek already possessed.
"I was in Kirk's company last night. He left abruptly with no explanation. He could not say where he was going nor when he would return." Spock sincerely hoped Sarek was not about to ask any questions about the nature of the company he was keeping with Kirk.
"And what concern is this to you?" Sarek asked.
"His departure was mysterious and shrouded in uncertainty."
"Uncertainty? In what way?" Sarek asked.
"I am uncertain where he went, when he will return, what he is doing while he is away. Mr. Pike called and was recalcitrant when I requested edification."
"Kirk's absence is not any of your concern," Sarek said, an implied question in the statement.
"It would not be except he left 4 point 13 hours following the completion of our copulation," Spock admitted.
"It is like that," Sarek said with an undertone of resignation.
"It is," Spock confirmed. So much for his father not knowing the real nature of his relationship with Kirk. "It was. His precipitous departure has caused me to reconsider any possible affinity outside of the professional."
"When I have returned home, we will discuss this matter at greater length," Sarek informed him.
"There is nothing which needs to be discussed, Father. My only contact with Mr. Kirk will be necessitated by my work."
"We will discuss this when I have returned home," Sarek said as though he had not just said it. And as though Spock had not tried to protest.
"Very well," Spock had to agree. Because he had no choice in the matter.
"You will come to our house tomorrow for lunch. Inform your mother."
"Yes sir," Spock agreed, not bothering to tell Sarek he was having lunch with Amanda today. Sarek might tell him to cancel that lunch and he was looking forward to time with his mother, just the two of them. "I will see you tomorrow at noon."
"Yes," Sarek said, disconnecting.
~o0o~
Precisely 71 minutes after they left Arizona, Shuttle Qui-Jon touched down on Tajikistan soil. There was no one in the hanger to greet them. There was a battered station wagon waiting, the keys in the ignition.
"Oh Lord," McCoy said, shaking his head. He watched as Nelson went over to the car and popped the hood.
"Look, Len. Brand new engine," Nelson said, waving Leonard over.
"That helps," Bones agreed. "I have no skill with cars. You?"
"Some. Enough," Nelson said. He opened the tailgate, helping Jim put the totes in the back. "You want me to drive?"
"You awake?" Jim asked.
"More than you, I suspect. I'm good."
"I can drive," the Minister offered good-naturedly.
"It's fine, Minister," Willie said with a smile. "I have the directions. And I had more sleep than Jim."
"Da. Very vell then," the Minister agreed, holding Gaila up. "Not so much longer, we vill be sleeping in our own bed."
"Good thing, Grigory. Are we going straight to the Vahdat Palace? Do they know you're on your way? Will there be resistance to your return?" Gaila asked all in one breath.
"They know ve are coming, dorogaya. I am told the capital is secure and the palace is avaiting our arrival."
"Good," Gaila said with a nod.
"Are we ready then?" Jim asked, opening the doors for them to enter.
"Ve are ready," Grigory confirmed, sliding into the backseat with Gaila and Jim. Leonard got into the front seat with Nelson who had put down the hood.
"It's 3:30 in the afternoon here, right?" Leonard asked Nelson.
"Around that," Nelson agreed, waiting as the hanger doors slid apart enough to let them drive out into the snow shrouded landscape. More snow was falling, floating down in a most non-threatening way. "We'll get to the Palace in time for dinner."
"Good. I could use something to eat," Leonard agreed, looking into the backseat and not surprised that Jim was already sound asleep, propped up on the cold window. Gaila was curled up into the Minister who had his arms wrapped protectively around her.
There was very little else said as they drove through the countryside, an occasional farmhouse visible from the road, the fields fallow and snow covered.
"What's this?" Nelson said as he slowed the car behind a long line of other vehicles. "Minister?"
Grigory leaned forward to look between the two seats, straining to see past the other cars. "A checkpoint."
"Why?" Leonard asked, looking back at Illich-Svitych.
"I do not know. Villie, you do not speak Russian, da?" the Minister asked.
"No. Jim does."
"Da," the Minister agreed. "You must trade the places."
Nelson nodded, putting the car into park and quickly switching places with Jim, squirming over the seat to settle in the back. Jim took his place in front, careful not to kick any of them as he slid over the seat. "Is it going to be a problem if they recognize you?"
"I do not know," Grigory said. "Give me your hats."
Jim and Leonard automatically handed him their toboggans. Grigory pulled one down over his ears and as far down his forehead as he could. He helped Gaila stuff all of her hair into the other, accepting Jim's jacket for Gaila. She pulled it on over her red wool jacket, zipping it as high as it would go. She was already wearing gloves so pulling her scarf higher hid nearly all of her green skin.
"Do you have any vodka?" Jim asked.
"Da," Grigory agreed, reaching behind the seat for his tote, extracting a medium sized bottle. He splashed it on his clothes, making sure there was quite a bit on Gaila. Nelson also put a liberal amount on his clothes, unbuttoning and rebuttoning his coat, the buttons no longer in alignment.
McCoy reluctantly accepted the vodka, taking a small mouthful before intentionally spilling it out on himself. He gave one shiver before sprinkling some on Jim's clothes. Now that the car smelled of a distillery, the guards would hopefully wave them through, letting the happy drunks go on their way.
The line of cars, trucks, buses slowly snaked their way to the checkpoint, the guard leaning into the open driver's window when they arrived at the front.
"Papers," the guard demanded in Russian. Jim handed them over, all five fake passports authentic as far as could be discerned. "What is your destination?"
"We are going to the parade in Dushanbe," Jim responded in perfect Russian.
"That was yesterday," the guard informed him.
"Oh. Petre, the parade was yesterday," Jim said, slurring his speech just enough as he looked over at Leonard.
"I said it was yesterday, you fool," Len responded in not so great Russian.
"Mother will be so mad," Jim said, shaking his head.
The guard looked at Jim then Len before glancing into the backseat. "Who are they?"
"Cousins. Going to Mother's for dinner. After the parade," Jim laughed with an edge of hysteria.
The guard studied him intently, finally opening his door. "Out."
Jim stumbled out, allowing the guard to turn him to face the car, his hands on top of it. The guard was very thorough in his search of Jim's body, feeling places no one would hide a gun. He was either having his own little party or wanted to further humiliate Jim who was already in trouble with his mother for missing the parade.
The guard finally took a reluctant step back, waving Jim back into the car. After returning their passports, he sent them through the gates, frowning until they could no longer see him in the rear-view mirror.
"Well," Jim said, shifting uncomfortably in the seat. "I think I'm engaged."
"Congratulations," Len said, shaking his head. "I've done physicals that were less intimate."
"He has an unfortunate sense of humor," Jim said.
"His is an empty life," Gaila said sadly from the backseat. "Thank you for protecting us."
"You're welcome. Hopefully I won't need to have intimate relations with any more guards."
"They can be thorough," Grigory admitted reluctantly.
"When you're in charge again, you can change that, can't you, dorogoy?" Gaila said with a bright smile just for Grigory.
"I vill," he promised her, kissing her lightly on the lips.
It wasn't long until they entered the city proper, the roads congested, making their trip slower than they would have liked. When they finally reached the Palace, Jim stopped at the gates that were discreetly hidden behind the building. The guards surrounded the car, unfriendly expressions on all of their faces, right up until the Prime Minister stepped out to greet them. His presence was met with cheers, congratulations, inquiries about Gaila, more cheers erupting when she emerged, her red curls tumbling out of the hat as she pulled it off.
Grigory introduced Jim, Leonard, and Willie, the guards pleased to make their acquaintances. The Prime Minister was circumspect about exactly who they were and the guards did not question him.
Once the guards had celebrated his return to their satisfaction, they all got back in the car so that Grigory could drive up to the entry of the Palace. There were a dozen people on the drive to greet them, dignitaries, members of the house staff, guards who looked a little more relaxed when he left the car. The celebration from the gate was repeated at the door until they were escorted inside.
They agreed that the first thing they really wanted was something to eat, not sure how many hours it had been since the last time. After that they would get some sleep. Jim requested that he be temporarily excused, needing to call Pike with the update.
He was escorted into a small room close by, the others sitting at a casual table tucked in the corner of the huge commercial grade kitchen.
"Hey," he said when Pike had answered.
"Everybody okay?" Pike asked automatically. He knew the answer because Jim wasn't talking too rapidly to understand.
"We're fine. Willie Nelson came with us. We're in the Palace already. And I'm engaged to a random checkpoint guard."
"Oh dear," Pike laughed. "They can be…thorough."
"To say the least," Jim agreed. "Did you tell mom where I am?"
"I did. She's okay. You can call her later today."
"We're 10 hours ahead, right?"
"Yes you are. Are you staying until he recruits his guards?"
"He asked me to," Jim agreed. "The ones still at the Palace couldn't have been more pleased to have him back. So it may not take very long."
"Good. The people agitated for his return. That helps," Pike said.
"Yeah," Jim said. "We're going to get something to eat and then grab some sleep."
"Right. Call me if you need me," Pike reminded him.
"You know I will." Jim disconnected without asking about Spock. He could imagine what their conversation had been like and didn't need the confirmation. Nothing he could do until he got back home at any rate.
~o0o~
"Hello, dear," Amanda said when Spock entered the house. The door had opened as he had approached it, the silent, ever vigilant J'Zarh greeting him with a nod, accepting his coat.
"Mother," Spock said, allowing her to hold both of his hands. She was the only being that he would ever permit such familiarity and she shielded against his tumultuous thoughts.
"I know Sarek called you," she said, hiding as much of her sympathy as she could. That her husband was a man of fierce determination was acknowledged by all who knew him, most especially his family.
"He expressed reservations about my association with Jim Kirk," Spock said, sitting next to her in her comfortable study, much more Human than any other room in the house.
"He said as much to me," she agreed with a sad smile. "He also said that you didn't expect to see him again."
Spock sighed, an expression of his emotions he would allow only her to witness. "I hardly think that he would make a suitable mate." That was not what he wanted to say but the rest was too complicated, too many reactions to be able to fully articulate them even to his mother.
"The Vulcans said the same of me, dear. You are the only one who can decide if your future is entwined with his."
Spock shook his head once, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. "He is unlike anyone I have met," he found himself admitting although he did not want to.
"I've heard that," she agreed.
"Have you ever met him?" Spock asked to his hands.
"I have not. I have met his mother. I know - it's surprising. But our paths have crossed twice. She is complicated and very smart."
"Complicated?" Spock asked, thinking of the dinner and the conversation he had engaged with her. She seemed to be exactly what she appeared – the buyer for an exclusive line of boutiques. He would have never thought of her as more complex than that.
"Yes, dear. She traveled extensively and speaks at least a dozen languages."
"As does her son," Spock said with a nod. "What is their connection to the Uhuras?"
"That I do not know," Amanda said in regret. "Sarek… well. He said he would discuss it with you when you come for lunch tomorrow."
"I did not tell him I was coming today," Spock confessed, feeling some unwelcome guilt over the omission.
"I'm your mother, love. You don't need his permission to visit with me," she reminded him. "I haven't seen you in over 2 weeks."
"11 days," Spock corrected, receiving his mother's laugh as his reward.
"All right," she responded. "Come eat. Then I need to do some shopping. Can I persuade you to come with me?"
"If I must," Spock said, secretly enjoying her laugh at his response. He knew she knew he had no intention of saying no to her and his supposed reluctance was for her amusement. "When is Father returning?"
"Not until dinner time, dear. We have plenty of time. I will drive myself so you'll be able to go straight home," she assured him as the sat at the dining room table.
"I regret that you must mediate between us," Spock said.
"It's my job," she said with a warm, motherly smile. "It is in no way a burden. You mustn't consider it further."
"Very well," he agreed, asking her about her activities since the last time they had shared time, enjoying her stories, her presence, her love that she generously gave to him.