Free Gemini by Mike W. Barr Page B

suspicious. “I told him I’d tell you.”
    â€œBut why?” asked Peter.
    â€œWe’ve got lots of guests coming—Nadorian guests. You’re still something of a sore point with them, and I want to make sure nothing happens to aggravate that wound until I can smooth things over with the Nadorians. You bouncing all around the ship, enjoying yourself, would be the last thing I need them to see, right now. Do you understand?”
    â€œI guess.” He nearly sighed, until he realized that would have been the action of a little boy; the next words out of a child’s mouth would have been: “But it isn’t fair!” But Peter Kirk was no longer a child.
    â€œGood,” said Kirk. “Thank you. I’ll make it up to you. Oh,” he added, as a seeming afterthought, “the Nadorians may want a statement taken of your activities planetside—”
    â€œI won’t—”
    â€œNo one’s asking you to turn in your friends,” said Kirk, in a soothing voice, “just a statement concerning your activities. Why don’t you get started on that tonight?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    Kirk nodded reassuringly and headed for the door. “And Peter—thank you.”
    â€œYou already thanked me.”
    â€œNot for that.” He smiled, and Peter saw something of his father in the sparkle in Kirk’s eyes. “For not saying ‘It isn’t fair.’”
    Peter stood for a moment after the door closed, thinking, then roused himself and sat before the cabin’s computer.
    * * *
    The quantity of transporter rooms aboard the Enterprise was probably sufficient to beam up the entire entourage of Princes Abon and Delor at once; such a display of Starfleet efficiency would almost certainly have impressed them. Nonetheless, Kirk chose to bring them up six at a time, in order to personally greet them.
    â€œGonna lay on the old charm, eh?” asked McCoy, skeptically.
    â€œI wouldn’t have put it in exactly those words,” said Kirk, as they headed for the transporter room, “but that’s pretty much the idea, yes. I intend to be the first thing they see when they step off the pad.”
    â€œOh, given what happened the last time they saw you, that should be very reassuring.”
    They arrived at the transporter room just in time to see Commissioner and Mrs. Roget materializing. The commissioner looked resplendent in his black uniform with silver trim, a color scheme that nicely complemented the gown worn by Mrs. Roget, which seemed to float around her like an argent mist. If Kirk was going to “lay on the old charm,” he thought, he might as well start with such a charming subject.
    â€œGood evening, Captain,” said Roget, shaking hands with Kirk. “The others are waiting below. Oh, by the way—I took this opportunity to beam up a few more crates to your cargo hold, was that all right?”
    â€œI hope storing your gear is the worst problem we have tonight,” replied Kirk. “Mr. Scott?”
    â€œCounselors Docos and Hanor and Regent Lonal are signalin’ ready for transport, sir,” said Scotty, who probably thought he owed himself a look at the strangers who would be intruding in his domain. Spock stood next to him, nodding and half-bowing to Commissioner and Mrs. Roget. Scotty gazed at Kirk for a moment, then said, “If you like, sir, I may be able to lose them in a transporter loop for a few hours.”
    Kirk glared at Scotty; he had thought he was in better control of his features than that. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Scott,” he said, pasting on a smile. “Beam them aboard, nice and easy.”
    The air over the transporter platform shimmered, then coalesced to form three figures. Counselors Docos and Hanor immediately shot a sharp glance at each other, as if each had suspected the other of planning some sort of midtransport mischief. It was Regent Lonal