Assassination Game by Alan Gratz

thought. “Yeah. My ribs aren’t in such great shape either,” Kirk told him. “The chief said I need to see a doctor. Maybe you want to take a look.”
    “Not particularly, no,” Lartal said. He moved from the bench to one of the telescopes along the rail at the edge of the Marin Headlands, the sea of tourists parting for him like subspace around a warp field.
    Now that was odd, Kirk thought. According to Bones, every doctor from here to Romulus wanted to get a proper body scan of a Varkolak, and Kirk had to assume the reverse was true of every Varkolak doctor—as well as just about every doctor from every member race of the Federation. He’d just offered Dr. Lartal a chance to give him a full bodyscan, and the Varkolak had turned it down.
    If Lartal really was a doctor. Kirk was beginning to doubt that more and more.
    Lartal pulled the sensor device off his belt and held it up like he was scanning the area.
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kirk said, hurrying over. Letting a member of a race with whom the Federation currently shared an uneasy détente sweep the area near Starfleet Command with a scanner seemed like a very, very bad idea. “I don’t, uh, I don’t think you should be …” Kirk said, suddenly realizing how little authority he had over the Varkolak. Before he could enlist the help of the security officers, Lartal was pointing across the bay to San Francisco.
    “I wish to go there,” Lartal said.
    Kirk was taken aback. He wanted to go into the city? Why? Did Lartal’s decision have something to do with the scan he’d just done? Downtown San Francisco was something like seven or eight kilometers away. Kirk knew the Varkolak sensor technology was legendary, but no handheld scanner could have picked up anything at that range.
    Could it?
    “Well, sure,” Kirk said. “I suppose.” He looked to the two Starfleet Security officers, to see if there was an official objection, but they were just as stumped as Kirk was. “Why?”
    Lartal’s tongue lolled out over his sharp teeth, and Kirk wondered if the Varkolak had to pant like a dog to regulate his body temperature under all that fur.
    “To … sightsee,” Lartal said with a wolfish grin.
    Right , Kirk thought. Because you’ve been so interested in the sights so far .
    “All right. Well, your wish is my command. Whenever you’re ready, we can catch a ferry over to the city.”
    Lartal put a foot up on one of the benches that overlooked the bay and the bridge. Kirk thought the Varkolak was taking one last look at the impressive vista before leaving, but then he heard a hissing sound, and realized Lartal had sprayed something on the bench.
    “Whoa! Hey, no! What are you—No graffiti!” Kirk said.
    “I have not permanently marked it,” Lartal said. “Merely added my own personal scent to”—the Varkolak sniffed—“the human fetor that already exists in this place. It will not linger more than a few days. Now, take me to the city.”
    Kirk shook his head. This was going to be one long afternoon.

    Bones was at his desk in the room they shared when Kirk got back at the end of the day. Kirk hadn’t kept track, but Lartal had to have walked at least twentykilometers all over San Francisco, and those weren’t flat kilometers either. Kirk collapsed facedown onto his bed.
    “Bones, you will not believe the kind of day I’ve had. First, Lartal skips out on the medical tours. Then we check out the Marin Headlands, where he sprays Varkolak perfume on a bench. Then we go into San Francisco, where he howled on every other street corner and spritzed every other trash can and light pole with his scent. I didn’t know if we were going to get a ticket for vandalism or disturbing the peace, or both. In the end, I think the cops were so scared of him, they just said, ‘It’s Starfleet’s deal’ and left it to us.”
    “That’s interesting,” Bones said in a tone that made it sound like it was anything but.
    Kirk shifted to look at him. Bones was