Star Trek: The Original Series - 082 - Federation by Judith Reeves-Stevens, Garfield Reeves-Stevens Page B

put.” “Yes, sir,” Kirk whispered. He squinted to the side as McCoy spun around and advanced on Spock. “And as for you,” the doctor began.
    Kirk closed his eyes and smiled as McCoy’s tirade continued.
    Sometimes he thought the doctor was only happy when he had something to complain about, and Finagle knew Kirk and Spock went out of their way to oblige him.
    The pain in his back began to lessen, and Kirk guessed that McCoy had included something else with the tri-ox compound without telling him. Just as he hadn’t mentioned anything about the protein inhibitor on the knife.
    Probably didn’t want to worry me, Kirk thought, feeling himself beginning to drift as McCoy and Spock argued over medical procedures, and Sarek maintained an appropriately diplomatic silence.
    Kirk slipped back to three days earlier, walking near his quarters on Deck 5. An Artdorian had passed him: Thelev, a minor member of Ambassador Shras’s staff. Thelev had nodded in greeting. Kirk had nodded in return, eager to get back to the bridge, eager to continue the investigation into the murder of Ambassador Gav—the murder for which Sarek was prime suspect.
    In retrospect, Kirk decided it was his eagerness that led him to ignore Thelev’s unexpected change in pace. In retrospect, he knew he had distinctly heard Thelev stop, turn, and start again, walking behind him. At the time, Kirk had worried that the Andorian was going to raise vet another matter of concern to the ambassador, as if having 114’dignitaries on board for the past two weeks hadn’t given Kirk his fill of ambassadorial concerns. Part of him was still hoping he could make it to the turbolift before Thelev called his name when he felt the first blow to the back of his neck.
    Starfleet training had taken over then, diplomatic immunity be damned. But the first blow Kirk had taken had dulled his reflexes, and just as he thought Thelev was finished, he felt the long narrow blade of the Andorian ceremonial dagger rip into his back, grating against bone, igniting shocking streamers of pain like lava through his chest.
    What had happened next, Kirk still wasn’t too certain. Whatever had transpired, he had ended up in sickbay and Thelev had been taken to the brig.
    But the threat to the Enterprise hadn’t ended with the Andorian’s arrest. An unknown vessel was still pacing them.
    Thirty-two ambassadors whose loss could mean an interplanetary war were its probable target. And Sarek was only hours from death, unless McCoy could operate. Which he couldn’t do without Spock’s cooperation in providing a transfusion. Which Spock wouldn’t provide while Kirk was in sickbay and the Enterprise was being followed by an unidentified vessel.
    In the end, Kirk and McCoy had convinced Spock that the captain’s wound was minor. Spock had relinquished command, donated blood, and Sarek’s operation had been a success.
    Xo. Kirk suddenly thought, jerking awake from his reverie. It was too soon to think of success. Thelev had turned out to be a surgically altered Orion. The pursuing ship, also Orion, had destroyed itself when the Enterprise had disabled it. But the Babel Conference had yet to take place. Coridan’s fate was still in quesuon. What if the Orions had a contingency plan? For all the effort they had put into placing Thelev on the Andorian ambassador’s staff, into reengineering one of their vessels for a suicide mission, into sanctioning Gav’s murder—it just wouldn’t be like the Orions to give up after a single attempt. l/lave [o talk to Spock about this, Kirk thought. He opened his eyes. McCoy was standing above him. Kirk had a sudden feeling of’ panic that he had slept. That he had missed something. But McCoy was in as much disarray as he had been when he had caught his patients at their midnight poker game.
    “Can you breathe now?” McCoy asked. It wasn’t a friendly question.
    ‘Wes.” Kirk said. His throat felt normal. The pain of the knife xvound throbbed with