~ by Laura Cynthia Chambers
A security officer ushered Descin and Albix into the dining room together, Todar following behind them. Albix wore his orange robe, Todar the burgundy tunic, and Descin a light blue fringed robe. The table was spread with the best linens, dishes and silverware the ship had. A large basket of fruit and flowers was tastefully arranged in the center of the settings.
Kirk noticed them and paused in his conversation with Spock, who looked up as well. McCoy paused in his reach for a green glass. The rest of the senior staff smiled up at him politely. All were wearing some form of non-duty outfit. They all stood as Kirk walked over to the front of the room.
“Have you commenced already?” Descin asked.
Kirk shook his head. “No, you’re not tardy. Come, sit.” He gestured to 4 chairs that were still vacant. “You’re not even the last to arrive,” he added as they took their seats. Descin chose the chair next to Kirk’s end of the table, leaving the seat across from Todar vacant.
“Who else is coming-“ Albix cut himself off as he saw Grace standing in the doorway, clearing his throat. She was wearing a deep purple wrap around dress that reached just past her knees. Her short hair was slightly curled at the ends, and it barely touched her shoulders. Her uniform shoes had been replaced with a pair of black patent leather flats.
“Good evening, Lieutenant. You look very nice,” Kirk said warmly.
Albix swallowed, rising slightly from the chair, but she hurried over to hers and sat down. Reaching diagonally across for his hand, she smiled at him. “It’s not often I get to wear this. Or eat here.”
He tugged at his collar, glancing slightly at his approving father and sullen brother before returning his eyes to her. “I…uh…yes. What he said. And more.”
Grace seemed amused at his bewilderment. She reached for a roll from a large basket, before passing it across to him and buttering the bread. He looked at the rolls for a few seconds as though he didn’t know what to do with them, but quickly recovered, selecting one and passing them along the table.
Sulu was seated on Todar’s other side. “So…” he began, cutting into the steak on his plate. “I kind of dabble with plants, too.”
The man grunted. “’Dabble’? How quaint.” He barked out a short, derogatory laugh. “Pomology is not the sort of thing one merely dabbles in. It has been my family’s way of life for years.” He ripped off a chunk of roll with his teeth. “I do not expect someone who rejects that life to understand.” He shot a quick glance at Albix before meeting Sulu’s gaze once again.
Sulu gave him a sheepish look, aware that the comment was not entirely intended for him. “Well, we can’t all be farmers. I just thought maybe we could discuss grafting techniques.” He popped a piece of steak into his mouth, scanning the table. Uhura concentrated on winding noodles around her fork. Albix was trying to teach Grace some kind of trick with his napkin and an empty glass. Scotty and Chekov were arguing good-naturedly about something.
Todar grunted again, reaching for his drink, draining it quickly. “No? Ooo-kay then…” He turned his attention to the captain’s end of the table. Kirk was deep in discussion with Descin as McCoy and Spock listened intently.
“Our findings indicated that your son’s attackers consumed a stronger variant of breesin shortly before their episodes.” Spock laid his fork down and folded his hands together on the table.
“We believe it was partially responsible for what happened.” Kirk added, angling a subtle glance down the table at Todar.
Descin looked over their heads, lost in thought. “I thought I destroyed it all…”
“Destroyed what?” He leaned forward.
Descin’s brow furrowed. “About two years ago, the west side of the orchard was afflicted by a new invasive type of rot. Almost invisible to the eye. We had already pressed several gallons of breesin before it was discovered. But…” He shook his head. “No…I made sure it was all accounted for. Not a single drop was ever shipped or stored.”
“Is it possible you may have miscounted?” Spock suggested.
“Perhaps,” Descin admitted. “My deepest regrets. I am immensely relieved that no permanent harm has been done.”
“We’re still trying to determine who else may have been exposed to it. So far, there don’t seem to be any long-term side effects.” McCoy sipped his drink. “And thanks to our lab rat of a captain here, we got to observe how it works. A swig of the stuff immediately catapults the subject into a brief episode of respiratory arrest and paralysis, during which you literally have a captive audience, ready to believe anything you tell them. Like, I could tell you that the knife in your hand is…oh, I don’t know, a biscuit. And if you tried to eat it, well…you see the problems it could cause.”
“Indeed. A substance like that in the wrong hands could pose a serious threat.” Spock added. “Considering this, it would be wise for you to analyze your current inventory again.”
“I shall.” He ran his hands over his face, a hint of confusion, quickly replaced by a pleasant smile. “Which reminds me,” Descin continued. “My gift to you and your crew is ready for transport. Since you’ll wish to inspect it first, perhaps you can receive it tomorrow?”
“That would be fine. We’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon, so we’ll set pick-up and inspection for that morning.” Kirk reached across the table and shook hands with him. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”
“It’s not business when it’s a gift, Captain.” Descin replied. He scanned the faces of his sons. Albix seemed at ease as he scooped up a forkful of potato, his eyes never leaving Grace for long. Todar had gotten up out of his chair to pace restlessly around the room. He seemed to be looking down over the crew’s heads, each one looking uncomfortable until he moved on, annoyed.
“Is something the matter, Todar?” Kirk asked.
The man’s head shot up. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “No…not particularly.” He yawned. “Father, tomorrow is a busy day for all of us. I think it might be best if we left now.”
Descin turned to Kirk. “We are going to be quite busy with early pressing tomorrow. I beg your leave.”
Kirk waved him off. “Understood. I’ll walk you to the transporter room.” He got up from his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin, and led the 3 men down the hall into a turbolift. “Transporter.”
* * *
The doors swished open a few seconds later and they headed down the hallway. “Pretty soon, we’ll have to put one of these in the house,” Descin remarked.
Albix smiled at his father. “You’re not that old yet, Father.”
“Who said I was old? I shall need to save my energy for chasing your children around the fields.” Albix’s eyes widened, and Descin laughed.
Kirk seemed amused by their easy banter. Todar, on the other hand, appeared more interested in the crewmen who were passing through the halls. He scrutinized their faces with his usual frown, as though trying to recognize if he’d seen them before.
As they walked into the transporter room, the operator was adjusting a setting on the panel. He was a short, compact man, wearing a red uniform.
“Wardell.”
The young man snapped to attention. “Sir?”
“Our guests are ready to leave now. Where’s Rollins?”
“He’s, uh, grabbing a bite to eat at the mess hall, sir. Asked me to cover for him for a few minutes.”
Kirk nodded, and then turned to face his guests, who were walking onto the platform. “I hope this is the first of many such evenings, Descin. You and your family are always welcome on the Enterprise.”
“As you are at my home, Captain Kirk.” Descin bowed his head. “You have brought me joy,“ he said as he put one arm each around his sons.
Kirk bowed his head, and turned to Wardell. “Energ-“ But he was stopped short by the strange shocked expression on the man’s face. “What is it, Ensign?” he asked, confused, hands hanging slack at his sides.
In a flash, Wardell dropped behind the transporter station and whipped out his phaser. “Captain, get down!” He shot the weapon twice in the direction of the platform. Everybody ducked out of the way, falling to the floor.
Kirk froze, then got on his knees, slowly crawling towards the ensign’s position. Wardell gripped the console with one white-knuckled hand, peering around the corner. He sighed with relief when Kirk reached him. “That was close, sir. I don’t know how he beamed aboard, or where he came from.”
Kirk looked behind them. Descin and Todar lay on their stomachs, arms over their heads. Albix was propped up on one elbow, groaning. Blood seeped from a wound on his shoulder.
Kirk put his hand on the ensign’s shoulder. “Who?” he asked, even though he already suspected what was happening.
“The-the Klingon, sir.” Wardell hissed. “He’s holding the old man and the other one at gunpoint. I think I got him, though.” He checked the setting on his phaser.
Seeing an opportunity, Kirk chopped the ensign’s wrist. Wardell cried out, dropping the weapon. Kirk stuffed it in his belt and ran towards the injured man just as a security officer appeared in the doorway. He pointed to Wardell, who was still rubbing his wrist. “Take him to sickbay.” The guard hoisted a struggling Wardell up and dragged him down the hallway.
The captain helped Albix to his feet as Descin came around to his other side and raised his son’s arm over his shoulders. As they headed out of the room, Todar trailed them until they left. He glanced at the transporter console, then down at his hand, which had some of Albix’s blood splattered on it. Making a fist, he slammed it down hard on the console with a growl.
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