STAR TREK - TOS - 69 - Patrian Transgression

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Star Trek - The Original Series - The Patrian Transgression
Prologue
THE POLICE FLIERS swooped down like predatory birds, descending at a steep angle in tight
formation. It was almost midnight, and the streets of the city were deserted. The red and yellow lights on
the exteriors of the vacant office buildings switched to blue, closing off the airspace as the police pursuit
craft entered the area. They came in dark, lights off, sirens silent, and they came in fast.
Lt. Joh Iano gave quick, last minute instructions to the strike team over his helmet cornset as they
touched down, then the gull-wing doors of the sleek, dark gray pursuit flier opened with a muted whine.
Iano and his partner came out running, their weapons held ready. Behind them, the rest of the strike team
moved quickly into position, their faces invisible behind the polarized visors of their black helmets.
Each officer wore body armor and carried a high- capacity riot rifle in addition to his issue sidearm. The
rebels would not be taken without a fight. They never surrendered, preferring to die rather than fall into
the hands of the police. This time, Iano was determined to capture some of them alive.
The raid had been planned quickly, but Iano wasn't taking any chances. He had several of the fliers peel
off from the formation as they came in for a landing, blocking off the street on both sides, and he made
sure that the rear of the building was covered as well. They were going to hit hard and they were going to
hit fast.
This time, the rebels were not going to get away.
As the officers lined up in assault formation, Iano quickly checked with the units at either end of the street
and behind the building. Everyone was in position. It had taken months of trying to infiltrate undercover
officers into the rebel movement, but it had finally paid off. The tip about the cell meeting came in earlier
that evening. It was to be a major planning session, and some of the rebel leaders would be in
attendence. If they could capture the leaders, they could break the back of the entire rebel under-
ground.
Iano was about to order his men in when a panic- stricken voice came over his helmet cornset. "We are
under attack! We are under attack.t" Iano winced as a piercing scream came over his helmet speakers,
followed by the crackle of frying circuitry. At the same moment, the main body of the strike team came
under fire. Out of nowhere, bright beams of force lanced through the night and struck the strike team as it
was drawn up in assault formation.
Iano heard screams coming over his helmet speakers
as officers died all around him, incinerated by the deadly beams. He brought his hands up to his head and
staggered. It was an ambush, and they had walked right into it.
For a moment Iano was disoriented. He glanced around in all directions, trying to see where the fire was
coming from. It seemed to be coming from all over. However, they couldn't even see who was firing at
them, and Iano had no idea what sort of weapons they were using. He'd never seen anything like this.
The panic-stricken officers still standing scattered and started firing in all directions, their rifles emitting
sharp pops and high-pitched whines as the projectiles left the barrels, but the deadly beams kept right on
coming, cutting them down where they stood. As Iano watched, numb with shock, bright auras of
glowing light wreathed the officers who were struck, then they simply disappeared.
"Pull back! Pull back! Retreat.t" he shouted into his comset as he ran back toward his pursuit flier. One
of the beams missed him by inches and he felt the intense heat of its passage as he ran. What in the name
of Ankor were the rebels using? He had never seen such devastating weaponry. He plunged into his flier
and started its engines, shouting for his partner.
Seconds later he saw him sprinting toward the flier.
Then one of the beams stuck him. Iano heard an agonized scream over his comset as his partner be-
came wreathed in an incandescent glow, then he saw him start to fall. His partner was gone before he
could even hit the ground.
Iano screamed. The doors came down and, still screaming, he slammed the stick back hard. The flier
rose straight up into the air, turning as it gained
altitude. Through the canopy, Iano could see several other fliers getting off the ground, but one by one
they were struck by the deadly beams and they exploded into blazing fireballs, raining wreckage down
onto the street below. He saw the beams crisscrossing in front of him, and he aimed the nose of the flier
straight up, then shoved the stick forward and hit the throttles.
Iano was thrown back against his seat as the engines whined and the flier shot straight up, climbing rapid-
ly, leaving the scene of carnage far behind. He kept going up and up until he left the air traffic lanes and
was high above the city, then he came out of his climb and banked sharply, bringing the flier around.
"All units, report!" he said into his cornset, breath- ing hard and trying to control his shaking.
There was no response.
"Repeat, all units! Report/" Silence.
Iano sat numbly in his pilot's seat, unable to believe what had just happened. They were all gone. All of
them. The entire strike team, thirty officers, all killed.
He was the only one left alive. His breathing came in sharp gasps and he could not stop trembling. What
kind of weapons were those?
It had been a trap, a devastating, horrifying am- bush, worse than anything he had ever experienced.
They took out the units blocking off the street. They were ready for the units covering the rear of building.
They knew the raid was coming and had set up a devastating field of fire, covering all positions; a field of
fire such as he had never seen. Disintegrator beams.
The technology for weapons like that simply did not exist on Patria! Yet thirty officers had died in a
matter of mere moments. He could not deny the evidence of
his own senses. They never even had a chance. Iano alone was left alive, and as he piloted his flier back
toward headquarters, his mind echoed with the dying agony of those men, and of his partner. And he
knew that a part of him had died as well.
"Lieutenant, are you absolutely certain--" "I told you what I saw!" "Lieutenant!" Commissioner Karsi said
sharply.
"Do not forget to whom you are speaking!" Iano clenched his fists and took a deep breath, trying to
control himself. "Forgive me, Prime Minis- ter. I meant no disrespect. But the facts, as far as I know
them, are all there in my report." It was almost dawn, and they were sitting in Prime Minister Jarum's
office, overlooking the central gov- ernment district. The prime minister got up from behind his desk and
went over to the window. The sky was turning light. He had not slept, and he was tired.
The heated debate at the Council meeting had run very late into the night, and just as he was about to
leave for home, Commissioner Karsi had called with the news of the rebel ambush.
"Energy weapons," the prime minister said grimly.
"For the second time in as many days." "The second time?" Iano said, staring at the prime minister.
"You did not hear that, Lieutenant," Commissioner Karsi said.
"What difference does it make?" the prime minister asked wearily. "Thirty officers killed, right here in the
city, only several blocks away from the government district. There is no possible way that we can keep
this quiet now. The rebels have taken that option away
from us. He might as well know. In a matter of hours, everybody else will too." "There was an attack on
a power distribution station just outside the city yesterday," Commissioner Karsi told Iano. "The entire
southern district was affected. We managed to shift the load to another station, and we kept it quiet by
reporting it as a malfunction and shutting down the area for public safety, but it was no accident. The
rebels attacked with energy weapons. The entire station was de- stroyed. Fortunately, no one was
killed." '~lnd you kept this quiet?" Iano said with disbelief.
"Only a handful of people outside the Council knew," the prime minister replied. "We did not wish to start
a panic." "So you kept it secret, even from the police?" Iano said. "It was nothing more than a practice
run for the attack on us tonight! They wanted to see how their new weapons worked! Well, they work
just fine! Thirty officers died tonight because none of them had any idea what they were going up against!
You might as well have killed them yourselves!" "That will be enough, Lieutenant!" "No, Commissioner,
he is more than entitled to his anger," the prime minister said. "The error was ours.
We overreacted. We should have allowed you to inform the people under your command." He turned to
Iano. "You should know, Lieutenant, that Commis- sioner Karsi protested our decision vigorously. How-
ever, we felt we needed more time to debate the issue, and we were concerned that news of the attack
on the station would get out. Now it appears that we have run out of time. The rebels have struck again,
using the same weapons, and this time people have died. We
cannot fight against weapons such as these. We have nothing in our arsenals to match them. Their
technol- ogy is clearly not of Patrian origin. I have already called another Council meeting for this
morning. We can no longer afford to debate the issue. The time for isolation is past. We shall have to
appeal to the Federation." "How do we know these weapons are not coming from the Federation?" Iano
asked.
"There are those in the Council who have asked that very question," the prime minister replied.
"However, the Federation has been very forthcoming in their ongoing exchange of information with us.
We know what sort of weapons they have. They have not supplied us with the details of their
manufacture, for which caution I can hardly fault them, but they have been very open in describing how
they function and just what they can do. I find it difficult to believe that they would be as forthright with us
as they have been, while at the same time arming our rebels in an attempt to destabilize our government.
Such an act would violate their Prime Directlye of Cultural Non- interference." "But we have only their
word concerning this so-called Prime Directire, do we not?" Iano said.
"No, Lieutenant, we have considerably more. It is not generally known, but since we began our flights of
interstellar exploration, we have been in subspace communication with a number of other alien cultures as
well, some of whom are allied with the Federation and some of whom are not. And they have each
continned the Federation's policy in this regard. We have entered a new age, Lieutenant. Not only are we
not alone in the universe, but we are only one among
many intelligent civilizations, most of whom are advanced far beyond us. That is both a fascinating and a
frightening discovery. And we are now learning just how frightening it can be. We have been extremely
cautious, and we have kept much of the details of these communications secret, but events have now
escalated beyond our ability to control them. We cannot deal with this new threat on our own. It is
obvious that what happened last night was only the beginning. We are very badly in need of help." "And
what makes you think the Federation will provide that help?" Iano asked.
"There is no guarantee that they will," the prime minister replied. "But we have nothing to lose by asking."
"With all due respect, Prime Minister," Iano said, "we may have a great deal to lose." "Again, Lieutenant,
that same concern has been expressed by a number of the Council members," Prime Minister Jarum said.
"However, the fact re- mains that if the Federation chose to exercise domin- ion over us, there would be
little we could do to stop them. Their technology is vastly superior to ours." "Yes," Iano said. "They have
energy weapons." "True," the prime minister agreed. "But if they wanted to subjugate us by force, they
could do so easily. They would not need to am the rebels. Some- one else is doing that." "Who?" Iano
asked.
"We have our suspicions," the prime minister re- plied. "Discussing them now would be premature." Iano
stared at the prime minister thoughtfully. "If some other alien culture is providing the rebels with
these weapons, then what prevents them from attack- ing us directly?" "Good question, Lieutenant. I
think what prevents them is the Federation. If they moved against us openly, while we are in negotiations
with the Federa- tion, then that could provoke the Federation into joining the conflict on our side." Iano
sat there silently for a moment, allowing the full implications of the prime minister's words to sink in.
"Interstellar warfare," he said at last. "With us caught right in the middle." "Correct, Lieutenant. And I
must do everything within my power to make sure it does not come to that." "But if we turn to the
Federation, we may be inviting just such a conflict," Iano said.
"Perhaps not," the prime minister replied, "if we request their aid under cover of a formal diplomatic
contact. It will have to be handled with the utmost care. But the fact is, we simply have no other choice.
With weapons such as these, there is nothing to stop the rebel underground. Nothing at all."
Captain James T. Kirk pulled down the shirt of his dress uniform to smooth out any wrinkles, then
stepped through the door into the transporter room.
His senior officers were already waiting for him. Mr.
Scott, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Spock had all been sum- moned to the transporter room to join Kirk and
greet the special envoy, who would arrive momentarily.
Kirk had also ordered the bosun's mate to be on hand, to officially pipe the envoy aboard. They were all
in their dress uniforms for the occasion.
"Well, you're certainly pulling out all the stops," McCoy said as Kirk came in. "You'd think we were
receiving a fleet admiral, instead of some member of the Federation diplomatic corps." "This special
envoy to the Patrian Republics has been charged with an important mission, Bones," Kirk said. "It can't
hurt to start this thing off on the right foot and create a good impression. Diplomats often have tender
sensibilities." "Right," McCoy said. "So how long you think it will be before you threaten to throw this one
in the brig?" Kirk glanced at McCoy with irritation. "That's not what I would call a helpful attitude." "Just
who are the Patrians, anyway?" McCoy asked.
"How much do we know about them?" "We have been monitoring their progress for the past twenty
years, Doctor," Mr. Spock said, "as their rapidly developing culture has approached the capa- bility for
interstellar travel. They have already colo- nized the three habitable planets in their own system, and their
technological development is almost on a par with that of many Federation worlds. However, politically,
their society is an unstable one. The Fed- eration had refrained from making contact with them until such
time as the Patrians could manage to solve their own internal difficulties. Recently, they have perfected an
interstellar drive and started making exploratory forays outside their own system. In the process, they
became aware of the Federation and initiated contact themselves." "In other words, they've jumped the
gun and forced the issue," McCoy said.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "In essence, yes. To date, all contact with the Patrians has been by subspace
communications. The initial talks have been con- ducted at long range, in an atmosphere of cautious
prudence. Now, the Patrians have finally agreed to direct contact, and the Enterprise will be the first
Federation vessel to visit Patrian space." "So, in other words, they're prime candidates for Federation
membership," McCoy said.
"Or for acquisition by the Klingon Empire," Kirk replied. "There's a lot at stake in this mission, Bones.
It could easily go either way." "But I thought we just agreed to a truce with the Klingons," McCoy said.
"Yes," Kirk said wryly. "But if our negotiations with the Patrians fail to result in an alliance, the Klingons
would be free to make their move. And we'd be helpless to do anything about it." "Why?" McCoy
asked.
"An attack on a culture that is not part of the Federation could not, from a strict standpoint, be regarded
as a break in the truce, Doctor," Spock explained. "If the Klingons moved against the Patrian Republics,
and the Federation tried to intervene, then we would be the ones breaking the truce and the Klingons
could, with some justification; accuse us of initiating open warfare." And at stake was nothing less than
Patrian autono- my, Kirk thought. The question was, could the Fed- eration envoy convince them of
that'?. Ironically, at the moment of the greatest technological triumph in their history, the Patrians were
also facing the greatest crisis in their history. With their own culture strug- gling for political stability, they
were suddenly con- fronted with the most important decision they had ever faced--ally themselves with
the Federation, or face conquest by the most imperialistic and warlike race in the known universe.
It was not for nothing that Starfleet had chosen the Enterprise as the flagship of their diplomatic overture.
They wanted to send in their best, and being chosen for this mission was an honor. Kirk could only hope
that they would send the best from their diplomatic corps as well. Ordinarily, that would have been Sarek
of Vulcan, but Sarek's skills were required in the ongoing peace talks with the representatives of the
Klingon Empire.
Kirk's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a message from the bridge. "Bridge to Captain Kirk," said
Lieutenant Sulu.
"Kirk here. Go ahead, Mr. Sulu." "Sir, we have rendezvoused with the Lexington and they are ready to
beam aboard the Federation envoy." "Are we ready, Mr. Scott?" Kirk asked.
"Aye, sir, I'm giving them the coordinates right now," Scott replied from the transporter console.
"Very well, Mr. Scott." Kirk nodded to the bosun's mate. "Stand by to pipe our visitors aboard, Mr.
O'Dell. Tell them we're ready, Mr. Sulu." A moment later, as O'Dell blew the bosun's pipe, two
shimmering, blurred images appeared on the transporter pads and resolved themselves into the figures of
a male and female, both human, both in civilian dress. The woman was a young Asian, perhaps in her late
twenties, strikingly beautiful, tall and slim and perfectly proportioned. The man appeared to be in his late
forties, clean-cut, fit, and distinguished- looking, with firm, well-chiseled features and hair that was
prematurely going gray. Kirk recognized him at
once. He stared with astonishment, then broke into a wide grin. As Mr. O'Dell piped them both aboard,
Kirk stepped forward, all appearance of formality gone.
"Bob!" he said. "I can't believe it! You're the envoy?" Robert Jordan stepped down off the staging area.
"That's special envoy to you, Jim," he replied with a grin, holding out his hand.
Kirk shook it warmly. "Damn it, why didn't you let me know?" "And miss seeing the expression on your
face? Not a chance. I wanted it to be a surprise." "Well, it's the nicest surprise I've had in a long time,"
Kirk said sincerely. "Welcome aboard the Enterprise. Allow me to present my senior officers,
Commander Spock, Dr. Leonard McCoy, and Lieu- tenant Commander Montgomery Scott." "It's an
honor to have you aboard, sir," Spock said.
"You two obviously know each other," McCoy remarked.
"We were classmates at the Academy," Kirk said.
"In fact, we roomed together during our last year." "Well, then I'll bet you have some interesting stories to
tell," McCoy said to Jordan with a grin.
"My lips are sealed," Jordan replied with a smile.
"After all, I have my position to consider now." He turned toward the young woman standing behind him.
"Allow me to present my assistant, Secretary of Protocol Kim Li Wing, of the Federation Council on
Intercultural Affairs." Kirk turned toward the young woman. "Welcome aboard the Enterprise." "Thank
you, Captain," she replied.
"I hope you don't mind my asking," Kirk said, "but how does this old reprobate rate a department secre-
tary of a Federation council for his assistant?" "It comes with his ambassadorial rank," she re- plied.
Kirk turned to Jordan with surprise. "Ambassa- do?'?" "I've been appointed first Federation
Ambassador to the Patrian Republics," Jordan said. "I guess that means you'll have to call me sir, ~' "
Jim.
"Why, you old--" Kirk caught himself and cleared his throat. "Congratulations, sir. They couldn't have
picked a better man for the job." "Thanks, Jim. That means a lot, coming from you.
We've got a lot of catching up to do, but it's been a long and tiring journey. If you've got quarters pre-
pared for us, we'd appreciate a chance to rest and refresh ourselves." "Of course," Kirk said. "Mr.
Spock will show you the way." "If you would follow me, Ambassador," Spock said.
"If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask," Kirk said.
"Thanks, Jim. Right now, I just think we do with a little down time. We'll talk later, old friend." "I'll be
looking forward to it," Kirk said.
They followed Spock out of the transporter room.
"Well," McCoy said, as the doors closed behind them, "imagine that. James Kirk hitting it off with a
Federation diplomat. That's got to be a first." "Can it, Bones," Kirk said with a grimace. "Thank you, Mr.
O'Dell, you're dismissed. Mr. Scott, have the bridge inform the IntrepM that the ambassador's
party has arrived safely and we will be getting under- way." "Aye, sir." "How did a graduate of the
Academy wind up in the diplomatic corps?" McCoy asked as they left the transporter room.
"He left the service," Kirk replied. "We lost touch after that. He never got beyond first lieutenant. I
thought he was making a big mistake, throwing away a promising career. But I guess he knew what he
was doing. He was always interested in politics." Kirk smiled and shook his head. "Ambassador Jordan.
That's going to take some getting used to." "Look on the bright side," McCoy said. "At least you know
you've got someone you can work with." "Yes, I must confess, I was a little worried about that," Kirk
said. "On a sensitive mission like this, an officious bureaucrat with an inflated sense of self- importance
could have been a real pain in the posteri- or. But Bob Jordan served his time in Starfleet, and he was a
damned good officer. That's one Federation official who knows how the other half lives. We're not going
to have any problems with him." "Well, that will certainly be a welcome change of pace," McCoy said.
"Now if you don't mind, I'm going to get out of this uniform. I never did care much for these tight collars."
"Neither have I," Kirk said with a grin. 'Tll bet Jordan had himself a good laugh, thinking about me rolling
out the red carpet for him. He always hated official functions. I remember one time... well, may- be I'd
better not tell you that one. He is an ambassa- dor now, after all."
"With a beautiful department secretary for an assistant, no less," McCoy said.
"Yes, I... did notice," Kirk said. "And I noticed you noticing, as well." "Hard not to notice a woman like
that," McCoy said.
"Yes, indeed." "And you can wipe that smirk off your face," McCoy said. "She's young enough to be my
daugh- ter." "True. But she isn't." "I've got work-to do," McCoy said gruffly.
"Right," Kirk said with a perfectly straight face.
He watched McCoy turn and head back down the corridor, then stepped into the turbolift. "Bridge," he
said, then smiled. With a man like Bob Jordan in charge of this mission, things were bound to run
smoothly. That would, indeed, be a welcome change of pace. The way things were shaping up, this
mission could wind up being nothing more than official escort duty and an opportunity to catch up on old
times with a good friend.
Chapter One
"STATUS REPORT, MR. CHEKOV," Kirk said as he came onto the bridge, "We are approaching the
Patrian system, sir," the helmsman replied in a thick Russian accent. "We should be coming out of warp
and slowing to impulse power for rendezvous approach in approximately three point twenty minutes."
"Very good, Mr. Chekov," Kirk said, taking his seat. "Lieutenant Uhura, stand by to open hailing
frequencies on entering ParrJan space. Let's do this one by the book." "Standing by, Captain," Uhura
said.
Since coming on board, Bob Jordan and Secretary Wing had remained closeted in their quarters. They
had also, apparently, comandeered Mr. Spock, who still had not returned. Kirk had resisted the impulse
to call Spock and summon him to the bridge. For the time being, he could afford to spare his first officer.
Besides, he had a fairly good idea what Spock was doing at the moment. Doubtless, Jordan was having
Spock brief them on the ship's operation and routine.
It had been a while since he had served aboard a starship, and he probably wanted to be brought up to
speed. In his place, Kirk probably would have done exactly the same thing.
"Captain," Chekov said, "I have that information you requested." "Very good, Mr. Chekov," Kirk replied
as he sat down. "A brief summary, if you would be so kind." Chekov called up the data on his screen.
"Secretary Kim Li Wing was born in the city of Beijing, of mixed American and Chinese parentage. Her
father is Dr.
Kam Sung Wing, Director of the Sun Yi Institute of Xenoanthropology. Her mother was the late Dr.
Anna Stanford Anderson, formerly the Director of--" "The Federation Council on Intercultural Affairs,"
Kirk said. He was impressed. "I should have guessed.
That, Mr. Chekov, is what I would call one hell of a pedigree." "Yes, sir. Shall I go on?" "Please."
"Secretary Wing was educated at the Sorbonne, in Paris," Chekov continued, "and completed her gradu-
ate studies summa cum laude at Princeton, with a doctorate in xenoanthropology. She served her for-
eign service internship on Vulcan, as first assistant diplomatic attach6 to the Federation ambassador. For
the past two years she has served as Secretary of Protocol on the Federation Council on Intercultural
Affairs, and adjunct lecturer in xenopolitical studies at Star fleet Academy." Kirk was impressed. "She
sounds like a highly capable and intelligent young woman." "Indeed, Captain," Chekov said. "Her IQ is
mea- sured atto" "If it's all the same to you, Mr. Chekov, I really rather wouldn't know," Kirk said. "It
might give me an inferiority complex." Chekov grinned. "It is considerably higher than yours, Captain."
"Thank you, Mr. Chekov," Kirk said. "That will be all." "Yes, sir," Chekov said, exchanging smiling
glances with Navigator Sulu.
"Sir," Lieutenant Uhura said, "I am picking up a subspace signal from a Patrian vessel at the scheduled
rendezvous point." "Slow to impulse power, Mr. Sulu," Kirk said. "Put it up on the main viewer,
Lieutenant." As the ship came out of warp drive and slowed to impulse power, Lieutenant Uhura
punched up the subspace signal on the main viewscreen.
"Attention Federation vessel. This is Commander Anjor of the Patrian starcruiser Kornarah. Please
respond." "Hailing frequency, Lieutenant," Kirk said.
"Go ahead, sir," Uhura said.
"This is Captain James T. Kirk, of the Federation starship Enterprise. We have on board the special
Federation envoy to the ParrJan Republics, the honor- able Ambassador Robert Jordan. We are
awaiting your instructions, Commander."
The face of the Patrian commander appeared on the main viewer. He was almost completely human in
appearance, save for a ridged brow, yellow eyes with vertical pupils, and no hair. His eyes, like those of
a reptile, possessed nictitating membranes in place of eyelids, and his skin was a dark, almost golden hue.
Despite his somewhat ophidian appearance, he had a handsome, almost regal look about him. A career
military man through and through, Kirk thought.
"Greetings, Captain Kirk," he said. "We have been dispatched to escort your ship and the Federation
envoy to a station in orbit above our homeworld, Patria One. If you would be so kind as to match your
speed to ours, we shall lead you in and give you the proper approach coordinates." "Thank you,
Commander," Kirk said, noting that Anjor was not using a translator. He had learned the language, and
though his speech was heavily accented, he spoke it well. "Mr. Chekov, match speed with the Komarah,
if you please. Mr. Sulu, stand by to receive approach coordinates." "Standing by, sir," Sulu replied.
"Approach coordinates coming in, sir," Uhura said.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Kirk said. "Patch them through to the navigation console, please." "Right away,
sir," Uhura replied.
"Approach coordinates received and locked in, Captain," Sulu said.
"We await your pleasure, Commander," Kirk said.
"Thank you, Captain," Commander Anjor replied.
"It would be my pleasure, once we have achieved orbit, to receive you and your senior officers, as well
as the ambassador and his party, of course, at a small
formal reception aboard my vessel to mark this histor- ic first meeting." "We would be honored,
Commander," Kirk said.
"On behalf of Ambassador Jordan and my officers, I accept your gracious invitation. Do you have trans-
porter facilities on board?" "Regrettably, Captain, we do not possess the tech- nology for teleportation,"
Commander Anjor replied.
"However, we would be pleased to dispatch a shuttle for you." "No need, Commander," Kirk said. "We
can beam directly over to your vessel if you would advise us of a suitable location. We can scan your
ship and compute the proper coordinates for our arrival." "That would be perfectly acceptable, Captain
Kirk," Anjor said.
"Sir," Sulu said, "I am scanning a main shuttle docking area aboard the Komarah that should serve."
"Commanderre" Kirk said.
"I heard, Captain," Anjor said. "I shall have the main docking port prepared for your arrival." "Thank
you, Commander," Kirk said. "Enterprise out." He turned to Uhura. "Lieutenant, please inform the
ambassador that we have achieved rendezvous with the Patrian ship Komarah and are proceeding to
station in orbit above Patria One. Inform him also that we have been invited to a formal receptmn aboard
the Patrian vessel once we have achieved orbit." "Yes, sir," Uhura said.
The turbolift doors slid open and Kirk's first officer stepped out onto the bridge.
"Ah, Mr. Spock," Kirk said. "I thought I'd lost you."
"I was with the ambassador, Captain, conducting an informal briefing at his request," Spock replied. "I
had assumed you would call if I was needed on the bridge." "Yes, of course," Kirk said. "Well, what did
you make of him, Mr. Spock?" "Ambassador Jordan seems to be a forthright and capable man,
Captain," Spock replied. "Though it has been years since he has served aboard a Starfleet vessel, he still
has an excellent working knowledge of ship's operations and routine. He had requested an informal
briefing, but I found his knowledge already quite extensive. And Secretary Wing struck me as a highly
intelligent and versatile young woman. Her knowledge of Vulcan customs and traditions is im- pressive.
Humans, as you know, have great difficulties in reproducing Vulcan speech, and yet Secretary Wing
managed as close an approximation as I have ever heard or even imagined possible for a human. And
though she graciously apologized for her inability to effect the correct pronunciation, I found her knowl-
edge of the Vulcan language flawlessly fluent. I must say, Captain, I was very much impressed." "Sounds
like Jordan's picked himself a first-rate assistant. She seems to be a young woman of singular
accomplishment," Kirk said.
"Indeed," Spock replied. "While we spoke, we played dimensional chess. She said it helped her to
relax." "Dimensional chess helps her relax?" Kirk said. He had played the game with Spock on a number
of occasions, and since the Vutcans were the acknowl- edged masters of the game, he was convinced
that Spock occasionally gave in to him a little. Neverthe-
less, he found the game demanded an almost brutal level of concentration that was mentally draining and
exhausting.
"She defeated me two times out of five," Spock said, "once using a cleverly disguised version of the
Karaluk gambit. I had thought I recognized it, but I must frankly admit that I did not think a human would
be able to execute its intricate complexities." He raised one eyebrow, as close as he usually came to an
emotional response. "Clearly, I was wrong." "I wish I'd been there to see it," Kirk said with a smile.
"Captain?" Uhura said.
"Yes, Lieutenant?" "I have a message from Ambassador Jordan. He requests that you and all the senior
officers who will be attending the reception aboard the Komarah meet with him for a briefing as soon as
possible." "Very well, Lieutenant. Please inform the ambassa- dor that we shall meet him in Briefing
Room One in five minutes. Attending will be myself, Mr. Spock, Dr.
McCoy, Mr. Chekov, and Mr. Scott. Kindly inform Mr. Scott and Dr. McCoy of the briefing. Mr. Sulu,
you will have the conn in our absence." "Yes, sir," Sulu replied. If'he was disappointed at the prospect of
missing the reception, he did not show it. Someone had to stay behind to take charge of the bridge in the
captain's absence, and that Kirk felt confidence in him was no small compliment to his abilities.
Ambassador Jordan and Secretary Wing were al- ready waiting for them when they arrived at the
briefing room.
摘要：

StarTrek-TheOriginalSeries-ThePatrianTransgressionPrologueTHEPOLICEFLIERSswoopeddownlikepredatorybirds,descendingatasteepangleintightformation.Itwasalmostmidnight,andthestreetsofthecityweredeserted.Theredandyellowlightsontheexteriorsofthevacantofficebuildingsswitchedtoblue,closingofftheairspaceasthe...

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