Star Trek:
Of Plowshares and Swords

The Communications console beeped into the general ambient, soft background noise of the ENTERPRISE Bridge. Uhura, clutching her earpiece, listened intently.
"Message coming in from Starfleet, Captain," she said, "…Priority One."
"Onscreen," Kirk said, handing the PADD on which he was writing back to his Yeoman, who took it with a slight nod, and left. The young captain returned to the Command chair, adjusting his gold tunic, pulling it downward.
An Andorian admiral with whom Kirk was unfamiliar appeared on the screen.
"This is Admiral Trin," he began, "Starfleet Emergency Management Division, Disaster Relief. Attention any and all Starfleet vessels within ten light-years radius of Starbase 28; you are hereby ordered to immediately divert to the base, and assist in rescue operations. Further, as of this moment, the fleet is advised that Starfleet Operations has issued a Code One order; I repeat: we are presently at a Code One level, all precautions and protocols to be observed. Orders authorized by Komack, Admiral, Starfleet. Trin out." The message ended.
"Keptin," Navigator Chekov informed them, darkly, "…Starbase 28 is situated near the Romulan Neutral Zone."
At this, Kirk looked to Spock, who raised a concerned eyebrow, and nodded in confirmation.
"Well, what's happened?" Uhura asked into the momentary silence. Spock turned to take a quick sensor scan of the space around them, looking for anything suspicious or untoward. Nothing within twelve sectors radius, he informed them all.
"I guess we'll find out soon," McCoy, hanging out on the Bridge as was his habit, said, concerned. "But a Code One puts us on a war footing." He looked at Kirk.
"Take us to yellow alert," Kirk said softly, rising from his chair. "Uhura, put me on intra-ship," he instructed, coming over to her console.
"Open, sir;" she said.
Kirk informed the crew of the message, and all that they presently knew, which was nothing. He assured that they did not seem to be in any danger at present, and with a curt "Captain out", indicated to close the line.
"We're eighteen light-years out, Captain," Sulu reported briskly.
Spock consulted his own console. "Confirmed," he said. "While we are not within the range of those ordered to respond…"
Kirk nodded; "It does sound…like they could use all the help they can get," he said, coming over to Spock's station. "…and we're not urgently engaged, at present…" Spock agreed with that assessment.
Kirk turned to Sulu and Chekov; "Navigator," he said, stepping down to the deck, placing a hand on his command chair, "...make course and heading for Starbase 28. Helm, warp 8." He flicked the comm switch on the arm of his chair, and informed Scott of the situation. The Engineer reported that the ship was presently well-capable of maintaining such speeds.
At McCoy's behest, Uhura alerted Sickbay to be ready. For what, he couldn't guess. He entered the turbolift, and was gone.
"Captain," Uhura said, "general, fleetwide communique coming in from Starfleet;" she paused, listening intently. She turned a dreadfully blank glance to Kirk. "…Starbase 28 has reportedly been attacked, and as it has since 'gone dark', is being considered a loss. All ships and outposts along the Romulan Neutral Zone are on a high red alert status, sir. The Code One stands as issued."
At this, Kirk glanced at Spock, whose brow rose appreciably. "Sulu," Kirk said, "…make that warp 8.5".

The Starbase was—or had been—a standalone; a free-floating base similar in design to the K-7 space station, an outpost near Klingon space, but was much larger. Instead of vertical to the galactic plane, as its massive positional thrusters normally held it, it was now severely listing, horizontally.
When the ENTERPRISE arrived on the scene, they were one of seven Starfleet vessels, including four Starships, two medical frigates and a science ship, plus a host of smaller, likely private, vessels. More ships were arriving all the time, offering help.
A Commodore, a Tellarite serving aboard a medical frigate, had taken emergency command of the situation, at least until someone in higher authority could arrive.
Astoundingly, two Romulan cruisers transmitted that they were on the edge of the Neutral Zone, had been monitoring communications, and offered assistance. After some back and forth with Fleet Command, it was ultimately decided that any help was welcome in this case, even that which under normal circumstances might touch off an interstellar war.
As the ENTERPRISE approached the mayhem, Sulu whistled in amazement, speaking for them all, as he beheld the destruction.
Almost half the station was gone, vaporized, or was slowly floating away, as a massive cloud of wrecked debris—and bodies—into space.
A huge, ragged hole, nearly the length of the gigantic structure, burnt and twisted, was blown into the side of the base. The internal decks were directly exposed to space, without the emergency forcefields, the generators of which had been destroyed by the impact of...whatever had hit. The death toll would be staggering.
Ships, some heavily-damaged, which had been docked at the station's rings on the ruined side floated, dark and lifeless. Random explosions and collapses of the superstructure still rocked the interior of the base, for the moment precluding beaming in search crews.
"How did this happen?" Chekov breathed.
Kirk replied, "Let's figure that out, after we get the job done, here. Spock?" He came over to the Science station.
The Vulcan was already bent over his console, his face bathed in the bluish light of his scanner. "Scanning for life signs, Captain." He gingerly manipulated the knobs on the side, fine-tuning his search.
It was too long a time, several minutes, before he spoke. "Three life-signs, fading…one human and two Denobulan; Deck 34, Section 14A. Sending coordinates to the Transporter." He moved to do so.
"Transporter room," Kirk said urgently, "lock in, and beam them right to Sickbay."
And so it continued for hours; and the death toll was, indeed, staggering. The ENTERPRISE, itself, ultimately located and rescued only eleven injured personnel. Three of these died in short order. Of the rest, only two were definitely going to recover. They would be interviewed, as soon as McCoy granted an okay.
At length, Starfleet Emergency Management had arrived, and taken charge of the situation. The ENTERPRISE and one of the Romulan ships, the TAMRUD, were then grimly tasked with recovering bodies from amid the ever-expanding field of floating wreckage. Of these, there were far too many, and the Starship's shuttle deck quickly overflowed with frozen corpses, and out into the corridors.
Captain James T. Kirk later solemnly toured the lower decks, observing the ranks of body bags filled with dead, arrayed as they were. His gut was torn between sadness and ineffectual anger.

"D'ye think it was the Romulans?" Scott asked, sipping his whiskey. It did seem the likeliest possibility.
Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Scott were seated wearily around a table in the Captain's quarters; all but Spock was nursing a drink. The rescue efforts had been ongoing for well over a full day, and none had slept since arriving.
"Who knows?" Kirk said tiredly, disgustedly. He yawned. "The investigation has already started. Hopefully they'll find something soon, that will shed some light on this…event." He mentioned that preliminary scans had indicated that the destruction had been caused by a collision with a warp shuttle.
Scott ceded that the release and detonation of anti-matter, uncontrolled, would definitely have generated a sufficiently-large explosion. This would seem to indicate that it had been a very, very tragic accident.
"It also would have completely vaporized said shuttle," Spock offered, "…making an objective verification remarkably difficult."
"Aye," Scott ceded.
"On the 'plus' side, as it were," Spock added, "such a circumstance—a warp core breach and resulting uncontrolled matter/anti-matter convergence and explosion—would also indicate that many of the station's personnel were likely vaporized instantly, even before they knew what was happening."
All eyes turned to the Vulcan, who already knew that, with even such a factual statement, he was making a sizeable breach of human emotional etiquette. McCoy, naturally, glared.
"Well, that's certainly some very cold comfort, Mr. Spock!" he gruffed. "Any other sunny positives you'd like to share?"
Spock inclined his head and said nothing, only folding his arms.
Kirk and Scott, wisely taking neither side, both smirked and chuckled wearily, merely sipping their drinks.
Calming, McCoy then pointed out that Romulan activity on that side of the Neutral Zone, here, wasn't exactly overt. It was a rather dull and remote area of their space, really, with not much to recommend it. Scott pointed out that if you were going to spring a surprise attack, a "dull and remote area" might seem as good a place as any, to launch it.
Kirk noted that the longer this went on with no further activity along the frontier, the likelihood of overt Romulan involvement or aggression decreased. In his opinion, this was something else.
Also, he had to admit that working so closely with Masar, the commander of the Romulan ship with which they'd been teamed—and despite over 100 years of official distrust and animosity—he found that he liked the Romulan. Like Kirk himself, he was just another ranking commander, overseeing a ship of the line. Just another cog in the great wheel of the service.
The two Romulan ships—supposedly—just happened to be patrolling in the sector, and picked up the subspace distress broadcast.
Scott offered, "I do know that it is common procedure for Romulan ships t' patrol in pairs in the more remote sectors of their space, even along the Neutral Zone."
The station itself hadn't even issued the distress signal. That had come from a small freighter, on approach to the station. They had witnessed the explosion. The captain and operating crew of the ship were likely being debriefed, at that moment. For the umpteenth time.
McCoy also pointed out that the two Romulan ships had come to assist, and that it seemed unlikely, then, that the Romulans could have been to blame.
Spock disagreed. "Romulan intelligence, also known as 'Tal Shiar', is known to be a near-autonomous entity unto itself," Spock said, "…and quite often operates, simply in an effort to sow chaos, without the knowledge or direct permission of the Romulan government. This allows the Senate and the Praetor, and indeed the entirety of the Romulan power structure, the luxury of 'plausible deniability' in the face of…foreign accusations. It is quite conceivable that they are to blame, for reasons all their own."
McCoy sipped his drink, and considered this complicating fact. Silence descended on the group; tired silence. Scott downed his liquor and said his goodnights. At this, as if the group had been waiting for someone to say it, the party broke up.

The disaster was now nearly three days past. On the Command Deck of the Romulan ship TAMRUD, efforts continued at recovery of bodies. It was monotonous, but necessary, work. The victims deserved to be returned to their loved ones.
The fleet of Federation ships in the area had grown significantly, however, and Commander Masar and his counterpart on the other cruiser, the V'RA'DAT, were growing leery of staying much longer, lest things get too tense. Masar considered the apparent warp shuttle collision theory, and their conclusion that this would seem to point to an accident…but he had reason to have his doubts.
A tone sounded.
"Commander Masar," the crewman at Communications said, his gold helmet glistening dully in the dim lighting, "there is a message coming in. It is for you, personally…from Romulus."
"Very well," the Commander said, after a momentary pause. Messages directly from Romulus to ships in the fleet were usually not welcome ones. "Put it through to my quarters. I will view it there."
After viewing the message, the Romulan sighed and sat back. It seemed that it was as he'd suspected.
He touched the communications switch, and spoke. "Get me the Federation representative in charge of this investigation. Quickly."

Kirk and the other Starfleet captains on the scene had gathered in the Conference Room of the USS CHURCHILL, a starship of the new MIRANDA-class.
All were suitably-impressed by the compact, yet powerful design and complimented—and of course razzed —Captain Megan Kloss on her coup.
Invited to the meeting by Admiral Foster, of the Emergency Division, they conversed quietly, and wondered why they were there. But they all agreed that the welcome fresh coffee and provided finger foods were good and for the moment, that was enough.
The doors parted and, accompanied into the room by Foster, shockingly, was Masar, Commander of the Romulan vessel TAMRUD. Despite his growing fondness for Masar, Kirk's first thought was that Foster was giving the enemy a personal tour of the newest, most state-of-the-art iteration of Starfleet vessels.
His trepidation was eased, however, as he realized that the Transporter Room was right down the corridor, and anything Masar might have seen between there and here would have been negligible, and of little overall importance.
"Gentlemen," Admiral Foster said, "Please welcome aboard the USS CHURCHILL, Commander Masar—as you all know by now, of the TAMRUD."
Mumbled, half-hearted greetings sounded from the Starfleet officers, among which numbered the Tellarite Commodore and a female Vulcan Captain. Clearly, there was suspicion. Foster smirked understandingly; Masar did not.
"Before anyone says anything untoward," Foster went on placatingly, "I understand the irregularity of this…situation," he motioned to Masar, "…but please know that due to the unusually pressing nature of this investigation, and the information he has for us…well, permission for this meeting comes down from Fleet Admiral Nogura, himself."
Brows raised at this, among the assembled officers. That was indeed impressive. Besides, the Romulans may well be distrusted rivals, but these crews had indeed acquitted themselves well, in this instance.
"Now, without further ado…Commander Masar…?" Foster stepped aside, to give the Romulan the floor.
The Romulan was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. Then…
"Over the last two Terran years, there have been numerous attacks of this general nature on targets, both civilian and military, within the boundaries of the Romulan Empire. All have been destructive, and with great loss of life. They have previously used what you would consider…warp shuttles, in several other attacks on our installations." Eyes lit up around the room, with sudden understanding.
"I am told that Imperial Intelligence is aware of the source of the attacks. Even, indeed, of the perpetrators…who blatantly claim responsibility for their deeds."
"Then who is it? And why?" Captain T'Kal, of the USS GETTYSBURG, and a typically tall, spare Vulcan female, pointedly asked, almost demanded.
Masar sighed, as if mildly embarrassed. "There are a people…they are subjects of the Empire…they are called the Estri. They inhabit a world called Halor; it was conquered over one hundred of our years ago.
They are excellent, skilled craftsmen in many ways, and their talents are valued and widely-used, within the Empire. The entire race is united by a faith; a very deep and zealous faith…that often calls its adherents to violence against non-believers. Indeed, in their language, the word 'Estri' means 'believer'. They are fanatics, worshiping a deity called 'Muh'Ekalah'. The leader of the faith is referred to as the 'Galiar'.
Nearly two years ago, a new Galiar emerged; he is considered to be a strict fundamentalist, using…most inflammatory…rhetoric. It was soon after his assumption to power that these incidents began, and they have only increased in relative frequency. Our intelligence is reportedly working toward finding him. Romulus has increased our forces occupying the planet, but he is shrewd, and has avoided capture. Indeed, we have increased our forces on several planets of the Empire where the Estri commonly work, in response to these attacks." He paused, then.
"The surge in our forces among the Estri has been a most bloody affair, for both sides," he admitted. "They target our troops almost daily. Mostly suicide attacks. They often use disruptors, and both conventional and anti-matter explosives. We've killed hundreds at a sweep, in retaliation, but find that this only stiffens their resolve. It has been suggested in some circles of government, that it might be prudent to simply abandon the planet."
Masar was clearly discomfited by this admission—and in front of a group of rivals, at that—but he was being necessarily forthright.
"The problem with this, is the fact that Estri craftsmanship is highly-prized. At any rate, it is supposed that this attack on your outpost was likely carried out by Estri terrorists. Martyrdom is considered a great honor, among the Estri. Death in striking a blow to the enemy is the quickest way to…assured…martyr status."
"Why would these…Estri…attack Federation targets?" Kirk asked; "…we're not their enemies."
"Why not?" Masar replied casually. "To the Estri, everything that is not 'of' the Estri is covered in filth, and unholy; unworthy. Thus, everyone is the enemy…even other Estri, in fact, if their beliefs differ in the slightest. Other religions, moralities, cultures…even ideas. Even down to objective facts, that run counter to Estri teachings and beliefs. All of these things are considered wildly offensive to them, and deserving of extermination…until all that is left is Estri. It's as if they revel in their ignorance, and backward nature. It is an angry, conceited, and unreasoning system of belief."
"Well, that sounds like Kling-ons, to me," Nax, the Tellarite Commodore—over-pronouncing every syllable, as was the Tellarite accent—joked into the somber atmosphere…but only partially.
A strained chuckle sounded from the group. The mood lightened a bit. Even Masar smiled—a little—at this.
"What can be done, Commander?" Foster asked, as the mild laughter died away.
Masar shrugged and shook his head, a very humanoid gesture. "If the Estri claim responsibility for this attack—which they very likely will, always assuming they did it—I am authorized to assure you that the Federation will be notified by my government. From there…we shall see."
The doors parted again, and a crewman entered, walking directly over to Captain Kloss. He whispered to her, handed her a PADD, and promptly exited.
Kloss read what was on the PADD, sighed disgustedly and blinked several times. She ran a hand over her forehead, and down over her face.
"What is it?" Kirk asked for the group.
Kloss exhaled audibly and, looking first at Nax, "Speaking of Klingons…yesterday, at 0412 AM, GMT, a large Klingon colony on the surface of a world called Shad Ta-Alc was destroyed—by a warp shuttle. Thousands are dead. The base is a ruin." A disheartened sigh arose. Now the Klingons were involved.
"Things just got a lot more complicated, people," Kloss noted.

Ultimately, the Estri claimed responsibility for both attacks.
Kirk, given the fact that the ENTERPRISE was currently without urgent duties, was assigned by Trin to investigate, under the authority of the Federation.
To McCoy's amusement, Kirk was more than mildly chagrinned. It was one of the few times in his career that Kirk regretted not being all that busy.
Invited by the Romulans, which made Kirk all the more suspiciously apprehensive, they crossed into the Neutral Zone, flanked by the two Romulan ships.
They were in orbit of Romulus less than two days later.
The Klingon delegation arrived the next day, consisting of eight enormous battlecruisers of the new K'Tinga class.
Kirk questioned the High Command's wisdom, in committing so many of their newest ships to such a mission into rival space—especially rivals as devious and duplicitous as the Romulans—but the Klingons were never ones to miss a chance to project power and dominance. As expected, the typically disproportionate fanfare of declarations of violence, honor, and revenge came with them.
Phased-out, Spock observed, were the old workhorses D-7 battlecruisers. He further noted that following the all-too-brief Klingon/Romulan romance of the last year or so, many disused D-7s had appeared in the Romulan fleet. They themselves had seen them, Kirk agreed, in their mission several months ago, to steal the Romulan cloaking device.
It was speculated that the alliance had been a "marriage of convenience" for both, the Romulans getting a fleet of Klingon D-7 cruisers and the Klingons perhaps getting the secret of cloaking technology. The alliance was likely not one of good faith, however, as the Klingons had clearly been in the midst of decommissioning the dated D-7s in favor of the K'Tinga-class, so it was logical that the Klingons were given an outmoded version of the cloaking device. No honor among tyrants.
The next day, the small fleet of foreign ships, accompanied by five Romulan cruisers, including the V'RA'DAT and the TAMRUD, left for Halor.

"What we know of this world and its people," Spock cautioned, "…we have obtained from the Romulan database. Any information is to be digested with that in mind."
"…'History is written by the victors'," Leonard McCoy offered.
"Precisely," Spock replied. "What I relate now are physical and verified historical facts, which cannot be distorted by propaganda, or mis- or dis-information. As I continue my research, I will do my best to differentiate between verifiable fact, and potential disinformation." He paused, then…
"The people of Halor were previously-known, collectively, by the race-name "Cus'Sal", of which the Estri were just one of several," Spock said to the assembled staff. "The Estri were reportedly long considered somewhat…'backward'…in their beliefs and ideas."
"What about the planet, itself?" Kirk asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee from the carafe. Spock folded his arms.
"Halor is what we would describe, generally, as a class-M world," the Vulcan replied, "…but the planet still suffers the effects of a sizeable nuclear conflict, centuries ago. This left the surface all but devastated, and set its people back many generations in lifestyle and technological advantage. The nuclear war was precipitated by a lengthy religious conflict; a "holy war" by the Estri, against the numerous other religions and cultures of the planet. When the wars came, Halor's development level was approximately on a par with Earth, in the late-20th and early 21st century."
"Clearly, the Estri won;" Kirk observed, sipping his coffee.
"Clearly," Spock ceded; "…if ravaging your own planet and setting yourself back centuries in the effort, can be truly considered 'winning'. The Estri leadership have done much, however, over the intervening centuries, to expunge those other peoples and cultures from historical memory. The devastation caused by the war they provoked has naturally helped in that endeavor. This gives these later Estri generations a severely misplaced pride and arrogance in their singular faith, culture and race, even in the face of conquest by the Romulans."
Scott looked at McCoy; "History is written by the victors…" he stressed, with light irony.

Already in orbit of the Estri home world when they arrived, was a small transport ship, not much more than a long-range shuttle.
Aboard was a Romulan official who beamed over to the V'RA'DAT, to which the Federation and Klingon representatives were invited.
He introduced himself to Kirk and General Tolag—the Klingon in command of the flotilla—as Abassador Kelek. He was not especially friendly.
Tolag was moderately dismissive of the Ambassador, as could be expected. He'd treated Kirk with similar disdain, as well. His ceremonial dagger, the D'k tahg, was confiscated at gunpoint, upon his arrival. This left him in a foul state of mind…even more so than typical, for a Klingon.
Kelek was tall and well-built, perhaps early middle-aged, with a pronounced—and oddly undiplomatic—scar on his face.
General Tolag, for his part, was a massive, wild-looking creature.
Kirk knew that the Klingon people consisted of at least two very disparate species, which nonetheless apparently shared a typically short fuse, and ranged loosely around interpretations of the same cultural traditions. The only ones he'd personally encountered to that point, however, had been of the more human-appearing variety. It was difficult for Kirk to consider this a Klingon.
Tolag was monstrous in size, standing—towering—really, perhaps a head and a half above Kirk, and nearly twice his mass; his muscular bulk was barely contained by the traditional rough cloak and ornate body armor he wore. His hair was long and wild, even bushy, and his brow was heavily-ridged with bony protrusions. His mouth was filled with ugly, brown teeth, his flesh pocked with scars and burns from skirmishes and battles untold.
General Tolag was perhaps middle-aged, himself, with a pronounced "middle-aged spread", but Kirk would not have wanted to challenge this one without a phaser in hand.
The meeting was short; Ambassador Kelek made certain that they understood that they two were only there in deference to the fact that their bases had been destroyed, their people murdered by the Estri terrorists. From the Romulan perspective, any further investigation was moot.
"We are not going to find the ones responsible?" Tolag demanded in gruffly disbelieving tones. "Klingon honor demands that they be rooted out and killed where they stand!"
"The culprits will be found, General," Kelek assured him pithily. "And punished. We will see to it. A question on the matter sits right now, in fact, before the Romulan Senate…"
"The Romulan Senate!" Tolag sneered; "Politicians! I demand that—"
Seemingly unperturbed, Kelek merely talked over him. "…when they reach a consensus on the matter, it will be sent to the Praetor, for the final word."
He then addressed Tolag's brief harangue. Coldly. "Try your best to understand, Klingon… he said, silkily, "…I know it is hard…the perpetrators of these acts are themselves already dead, annihilated with their weaponized vehicles. We are here to find the hierarchies. The ones who sent them. I have agents and assets deployed, as we speak," he assured them.
He sat back in his chair then, and said, "You can…demand…all you like, General," he sniffed, "but it will get you nothing, here."
There was more to this Kelek than met the eye. Kirk was sure of it. There was an air of confident and undetermined menace to this being, he thought, that virtually screamed "I am not a diplomat". Perhaps it was the scar.
Kelek leaned forward, then; his eyes narrowed. "Klingon tradition has no meaning here, General Tolag," he all but hissed. "We have our own ways, and you…you…are a long way from home. A very long way. You would do…very well…to remember that." His eyes slid to Kirk. "As would you, human." The threat was implicit.
Tolag grinned, unconcerned. Threats, he understood. "We shall see…Romulan." He rumbled. "This might be Romulan space, but you…you are virtually alone, out here. I have eight fully-staffed and -armed cruisers. Much damage could be done, before help arrives."
Kelek scowled a bit, but let that point slide. He looked at Kirk and said, quite unnecessarily, "While I have recently had far too much contact with Klingons for my liking, Captain, my interaction with humans is—regrettably—lacking. I must say that your kind seem much more…well-disposed…than our Klingon friends."
"Who doesn't?" Kirk shrugged, after a moment.
Tolag only chuckled softly.
Kelek smirked. "I will contact you both, the moment I hear what is decided." He motioned behind them.
Five armed guards escorted Kirk and Tolag out. Kirk was back aboard the ENTERPRISE, in minutes. Tolag's dagger had been returned; Kirk thought there'd have been hell to pay, otherwise.
In their way, Kelek thought with a sigh, watching them go, Klingons were as fanatical as the Estri.

Leonard McCoy poured Kirk a mug of coffee. They sat at McCoy's desk in Sickbay. Kirk looked in mild distaste at the alien skulls that peered back at him from the display case behind the desk. Creepy things.
"There's something about this Kelek that…just rubs me the wrong way, Bones," he said, taking his cup with a nod of thanks. "He's not what seems, or claims." He sipped his coffee.
"Does that really matter?" McCoy offered, "…as long as the job gets done?"
"I suppose not," Kirk admitted lightly. "But I still like to know who I'm dealing with. And these are Romulans, after all."
McCoy chewed on that for a moment. "Maybe it's time we started working past old prejudices," he said. "The war was a long time ago. This incident has given us reason to work together, and that's how bridges are built. You seem to have made a friend in that Masar fellow."
Pensive, Kirk rose from the chair, and walked in a circle. "Masar and I seem to have a lot in common," he said, "…personally and professionally. Again, Bones, these are Romulans," he said, motioning with his mug. "Not five years ago, they risked interstellar war, by sending a cloaked scout ship across the Neutral Zone, and destroyed three Federation outposts—and very nearly, us. In fact, it should rightly have been interstellar war."
McCoy smiled. "And as I recall..." he said, "You developed something of a professional rapport with that commander, too. Even as a shooting enemy."
Kirk ceded that point. "Call it…'professional respect'," he amended, sipping from his cup. "Nonetheless...officially, I seriously doubt they're too interested in 'building bridges'. And this…Ambassador Kelek…has made it very clear to General Tolag and myself that we we're only here, because Romulus wants to avoid an interstellar incident over this. We're…just here; we're not considered an actual part of the investigation." He sipped his cup. McCoy's coffee was usually not that great, he reflected, but this was good. Chapel must have made it.
"And what about the Klingons?" McCoy asked.
Kirk sighed a chuckle, and shook his head.
"The Klingons are the Klingons;" he said. "I think they're here specifically to start an interstellar incident."
He went on to describe Tolag, and how very different he was from the likes of Commanders Kor, Koloth, and Kang, the Klingons they had previously personally encountered. They were more…silky…more…refined, perhaps, was a good word for it. In truth, he thought he perhaps preferred Tolag's tactless, more confrontational personality. He wondered if all of that…"kind"…of Klingon, was thus.
"Well, most lifeforms consist of more than one type of being," McCoy observed. "Take humanity…we're all one race of beings, just different variations on a theme. Funny, how much trouble we've let that get us in, over the years."

"…and your people will be ready, when we give the signal?" Kelek asked.
"Yes," came the reply, "…as always. You have provided us their needed materials?"
Kelek smiled dismissively. "As always. Be ready."

Three days later, Kirk and General Tolag arrived at Ambassador Kelek's quarters, and were ushered in by a functionary. There were only two guards, now, Kirk noticed. Kelek must feel he'd made his point, with the initial confab. The pair stood before the desk, Tolag clearly growing ever more impatient as the seconds ticked by.
Behind his desk, Kelek toyed with the Romulan version of the PADD he held, and…eventually, he deigned to look up at his guests.
"What can I do for you, Captain, General?" he asked, a slight smirk toying at the edges of his mouth.
Kirk spoke quickly into the momentary silence, hoping to tactfully disarm the waves of irritation and hostility almost visibly emanating from the big Klingon. "I—we—are…understandably curious," he began, doing his best to mask his own growing irritation, "…as to what might be the Romulan reaction to…this incident."
"Yes," Tolag gruffed; "what is the decision? Have you heard anything?"
"I received word yesterday—" Telek began, but Tolag cut him off.
"Yesterday?!" the Klingon hollered, incensed. His gauntleted fist crashed to the desk, the treacherous spikes along the knuckles leaving small indents; "You told us that you would inform us, as soon as you knew! We could've been out of this gumok-hole system and halfway home, by now!"
Kelek's calm exterior did not flinch, however, which may even have enraged the Klingon that much more.
Kirk's instincts were humming again. This disinterested near-equanimity simply wasn't that of a diplomat.
The Romulan simply went on in a patronizing tone, when Tolag finally shut up; "I…received word…yesterday…that the Senate has determined that the Estri will be…for want of a better term, exterminated. The Estri have come to be viewed as more trouble than they are worth. It is the simplest solution, in this case. Once vacated, their world will eventually be used as a prison planet; a penal colony."
Tolag grinned with a hideous malice. "At last," he grunted, "…a Rihannsu decision I can agree with. Excellent."
His use of the term 'Rihannsu' was offered as a show of satisfied respect; it was the formal term the Romulans used, when referring to their own people. "How will this be accomplished?" he asked.
Kirk, less than enthusiastic with the decision, wanted to know this as well.
Kelek explained; "A virus was developed many years ago, based upon a disease—a plague—that once swept the planet. It killed several million, before it passed. The virus has been augmented and weaponized by our scientists, and initially will be introduced into the population, via contamination of communal water sources. Once properly incubated in the body, it becomes an airborne threat, and will spread quickly. Any survivors—which there doubtless will be, as there are always random immunes—will simply be hunted down and executed by our military."
"When will this…action…be carried out?" Kirk asked quietly, not just slightly perturbed by the idea of being party—if even in an ancillary, non-participatory manner—to the killing of an entire race of people.
"The samples will arrive from our facility on Remus in three days' time," Kelek said casually. Kirk thought it ironic that the Romulans didn't keep biological weapons on their own world, but on the "lesser" world of the two.
Tolag chuckled with a quiet, frightening, delight. "Excellent… see that it is carried out. When the disease is introduced, we will make for home. Not until then."
With that, he turned to leave, laughing exultantly.
"I'll try to shed a tear," Kelek mumbled sardonically, watching him go. "Is there anything else, Captain?" he asked, since Kirk remained. His tone was mildly annoyed.
Kirk didn't care.
"How long will it take?" he asked.
Kelek sighed. "As I said, the samples will be here in—"
"No, no…" Kirk cut him off; "…how long will it take for the virus to spread, and…to work?"
Kelek thought for a moment; "I don't know, Captain;" he said, sincerely. "I am not a virologist, nor a physician. I suppose it might depend upon many factors. We will see to it that water sources all over the planet will be contaminated, but just how fast the disease spreads, is up to the Estri, themselves, yes? The illness itself…?" he shook his head. "Not long. It should run its course, from initial exposure to death, in less than two weeks. It is supposedly a very effective, and very brutal, illness."
He could perceive Kirk's trepidation. He leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. It was indeed a disarming, even endearing, gesture. Kirk was not disarmed, nor endeared.
"Do not feel bad, Captain," he assured with a sympathetic, cockeyed grin. Kirk took a moment to wonder if the sympathy was genuine. He doubted it. "…believe it or not…this is something we do, as a matter of course. It is a…standard policy of the Empire, to find a disease that affects a certain people, and to…keep it on hand, just for such cases as this. There has been only one other incidence in our history, many years ago, when this was carried out. A planet that had rebelled. The population was drastically decimated, but the race survived…" he let it hang there.
Kirk, his trepidation unassuaged, nodded and left. He got the message…
The Estri would not survive.

"…and so, that's the plan," Kirk told the Command Staff, seated around the conference table.
Spock sighed in disapproval, one eyebrow arched.
Scott said, simply, "Ach…", and shook his head. Uhura and Sulu sat in stunned silence.
Doctor McCoy only stared, as if in shock.
"Bones?" Kirk asked. "You okay?"
"You can't let them do it, Jim," he said simply, his voice reflecting the horror he felt. "You can't let them just kill an entire race of people. It's barbaric!"
"I don't disagree with you, Bones," he replied, "…but there's not a lot I can do. The decision is made."
McCoy shook his head; "You have to find some way, Jim;" he pleaded. "Somehow, to convince them not to go through with this!"
All eyes were on the doctor. Even Spock regarded McCoy a bit cautiously.
Kirk looked at McCoy for a moment, then to Uhura, Scott, and Sulu; he thought that this could get a bit ugly.
"Dismissed," he said softly, and the three got up gratefully, and left.
"I don't know what you'd like me to do, Bones," Kirk reasoned. "I have no authority here. Like the Klingons, we're only here as concerning the investigation…and at the goodwill of the Romulans. Otherwise, according to a treaty that's over a century old, we're committing a blatant act of war."
"To hell with the treaty!" McCoy shouted. "They're planning to commit genocide! It's an atrocity!" he growled.
"It is," Spock agreed, cutting in. "However, it is their empire, Doctor;" he said, calmly. "They do not have to care what we think of their actions."
"Spock's right," Kirk said. "…and I'm not a commander in the Romulan fleet. Even if I was, I doubt my input would matter."
Silence for a moment.
"The idea, however, does resonate with a certain…unfortunate, even unpleasant, logic," Spock conceded with a slight, unwilling upturn of an ironic smirk.
Kirk regarded Spock with a bit of distaste at his openly stating it, but ultimately couldn't disagree.
"Spock!" McCoy, outraged, hissed. "You, of all people…with your 'logical' Vulcan pacifism! How can you agree with this? How can you support this…notion?"
Spock shook his head. "I did not say that I agreed with, Doctor, nor that I support it; I merely stated the fact that it has a certain logic…which it does. I understand it. It is barbarism, to be sure…but strictly from the perspective of necessity, after two years of attack and many thousands of deaths across the Empire—and now elsewhere—it does make a certain sense."
"But they're planning to wipe out an entire race of people! McCoy shouted. "To the last one! Not all of these people are guilty of these acts, Spock, nor will they be! Yet, they're being condemned, along with the rest! The righteous and unrighteous alike!"
"Strictly from the perspective of the Estri faithful, Doctor," Spock noted, "…the ones carrying out these attacks are…the 'righteous'."
"But they're not…!" McCoy insisted. "They're not all guilty…surely not all of these people agree with these…methods…"
"But how are the Romulans to know which is which, Bones?" Kirk interjected, quietly. "How can anyone know? Even the Estri themselves? There is no way to tell, until it's too late. This is literally an entire race of potential terrorists." He shrugged one shoulder. "Like it or not, killing the whole race is a solution to the Romulan's problem."
McCoy paused, regarding Kirk coldly; his spine stiffened. Jutting out his chin, he admonished, "Hitler and the Nazis thought so, too," he said.
Spock did not even hesitate; "But the Romulans have an obvious and legitimate grievance, Doctor;" he countered. "Hitler and the Nazis did not."
He folded his arms, then, warming to his subject.
"I have researched this world, using as much objective, third-party information as I could obtain. As noted, it is agreed that over approximately two of their centuries, the ancestors of these people waged a literal holy war against the other peoples and religions of their world—a genocide, really—until ultimately theirs was the only one left…and from that point on, the only one they permitted to exist. These wars ended with the nuclear conflict that devastated the planet.
The Estri faith and culture is restrictive in the extreme; females of the species are regarded as third-class citizens, at best, with few rights or even considerations, beyond reproduction. Intellectual pursuits are all but discouraged among the populace, as heretical. Only the study and learning of their religious texts and related materials is encouraged. Anything outside, anything that is…'not Estri'…is, as we know, considered wholly offensive.
The only thing this race would seem to have to offer is a pronounced expertise at handy work and craftsmanship, likely developed as a result of adapting to the period after the devastating nuclear war. The Romulans prize this, as we know, and have sent them throughout the Empire, as builders and draftsmen.
As ironic-if fortunate-chance would have it, their backward beliefs prevented them from developing space travel, and carrying their violent beliefs to other worlds. Until now, with the rise of this new leader, the Galiar. And the Romulans, of course, who have inadvertently done for them, what their own regressive ideals precluded.
I must reiterate that the Estri faithful do have an excessively violent, unreasoning, and repressive history, even amongst themselves. Should the Romulans carry out this course of action, there are those who could argue, persuasively, that they have well-earned their fate."
McCoy's shoulders slumped; he looked between Kirk and Spock. "Am I the only one who sees this as savagery?" he all but pleaded.
Spock shook his head, "No, Doctor; not at all. You are simply governed by your emotions, and not objective thought. But that, also, is understandable, in this case."
"This is a very complex situation, Bones," Kirk said quietly. "And it has a lot of factors involved; a lot of moving parts."
McCoy looked to Kirk again. "Can you at least try to talk them out of it?"
Kirk smiled; "I'll do what I can."

Kirk sat in the sparsely-populated Mess Hall, trying to enjoy his lunch. This was difficult, however, as Ensign Roa, a short, stout EeZom new to Sciences, would not stop talking—a torrent of words—and kept interrupting.
Kirk enjoyed eating with the crew, and had greeted the young Ensign as he sat at the next table, welcoming him to the crew…and that had been that. There weren't enough people in the room, to distract him or pawn him off on anyone else. Kirk noticed, further, that the few who were there seemed to have taken seats on the periphery of the room, well away from he and Roa. He took a moment to wonder if the seating choices hadn't been purposeful.
The EeZom were a reptilian race, and given the proper room temperature, could get very energetic. Kirk now thought the room a bit warm, truth be told.
The Comm panel on the wall whistled; "Bridge to Captain Kirk". It was Spock's voice.
"Excuse me," Kirk said gratefully, and rose. "Kirk here."
"Spock here, Captain; you may want to come to the Bridge, events are transpiring at the moment, which could be most troubling."
"What's going on?" Kirk asked.
"You may want to see this for yourself, sir."

Kirk came onto the Bridge minutes later. Spock, giving up the center chair, rose and nodded in the direction of the viewscreen.
There, arrayed in high orbit, was a small armada of Romulan battlecruisers. Kirk sighed.
"How many are there?" he asked.
"Fifteen," Spock said. "At present. They decloaked several minutes ago."
Moving menacingly into battle formation were the eight Klingon warships.
In frustration, Kirk thumped the arm of the chair. "Tolag made it very clear to Ambassador Kelek that his eight ships could cause a lot of trouble before anyone got out here to help him. Kelek must've called for support. Their 'pissing contest' is going to get people killed. Hail Tolag's ship."
Kirk told Sulu to bring to ENTERPRISE to the edge of the two opposing fleets, from their perspective, the Romulans to port, the Klingons to starboard. "Arm phasers," he said quietly, to Sulu. "Shields up."
The Klingon General appeared on the forward screen.
"What is it, Kirk?" His tone was only slightly miffed, almost nonchalant, as his ships approached the larger Romulan fleet. "Can you not see that I am otherwise engaged?" He turned, looking at something offscreen. "Arm torpedoes!" he yelled to an unseen crewman.
"Yes, I see;" Kirk then said to Tolag. "What do you think you're doing? This isn't why we're here."
At that instant, one of the Romulan ships let loose a short barrage that shot across the bow of Tolag's cruiser. There it was; the Romulans had fired the first shot. They were clearly baiting him. The problem was, as a Klingon, he was all-too-happy to take the bait.
"Return fire!" Tolag yelled, with an almost gleeful edge to his voice.
"Tolag! Don't be stupid; do not return fire!" Kirk urged. "You're going to get yourself and your crew killed."
Tolag bellowed laughter. "You do not command me, Starfleet worm! Every day is a good day to die! Especially against Romulan veQ" He turned away again. "Target that taHqeq Kelek's ship!"
"Fire phasers, between the fleets," Kirk ordered. A sharp volley of phaser beams shot lengthwise into the space between the fleets. A second, this one amazingly crossing with a Klingon torpedo, destroying it mid-flight.
"Two of the Klingon ships are targeting us," Spock calmly advised. Indeed, two of the massive ships withdrew from formation, and moved toward the ENTERPRISE. One of them fired, the blast impacting on their shields.
"Shields holding," Spock said as the ship rocked.
"Hold fire," Kirk ordered.
"At least ve have de Romulans on our side," Chekov said. "That is something."
"Tolag!" Kirk shouted, growing angry; "Listen to me! If you do this, the Romulans will have your ships. Your brand-new, shiny, top-of-the-line, battlecruisers that no one really knows anything about…and that you stupidly delivered right into the lion's den. All they need is one! The blasted shell of one would do. They'll have the remains of eight to sift through. They'll have them, and their engineers will go over them with a fine-toothed comb. They'll look at everything; every rivet, monitor, and light bulb. They'll reverse-engineer them…and they'll know everything. You know they will!" Kirk glared at the image on the screen. "Don't…push this…"
That's what they're trying to do, you fool, Kirk thought.
Perhaps a minute went by.
An hour?
A week?
"The Klingon ships are powering down their weapons," Spock said, "…and reducing to navigational shielding, only. They are reversing thrusters."
On the screen, the Klingon fleet withdrew several hundred miles, holding position. They seemed to be sulking.
Kirk sighed in relief. He was still hungry, and wanted to go finish his lunch. He thought maybe he'd take it to Sickbay, and chat with Bones.

The next day, Kirk sat at the work station in his quarters, going over duty rosters for the week. The comm panel chirped and, thankful for the momentary interruption of the drudgery, he thumbed the switch. "Kirk here."
"Lt. Kennedy here, Captain;" Kennedy was the mid-shift Communications officer on the Bridge.
"Yes, lieutenant?"
"Captain, Ambassador Kelek and a small entourage are requesting permission to beam aboard. He wants to speak with you, sir."
Kirk considered this unusual request, for a moment. "He wants to see me? Tell him to give us a few minutes. Call Security," he said "…have a standard honor detail meet me in the Transporter Room. First Officer Spock, too. Kirk out."
Kirk arrived at the Transporter Room right ahead of Spock. The Security team was already there. Scott stood ready to operate the Transporter.
The captain went to the Transporter console, and thumbed the comm panel. "Kirk to Bridge; Lieutenant Kennedy, tell the Romulans we're ready." He waited a few beats, then, "…energize. Gentlemen, let's be on our best behavior, please."
Seconds later, Kelek and aides appeared on the platform. The Ambassador's eyes shifted immediately to the guard detail, and he smiled knowingly, clearly expecting such a response.
Kirk and Spock stepped forward. "Ambassador Kelek," Kirk said, "Welcome aboard." He introduced Spock, then, "What can we do for you?" It was mildly unsettling, the physical similarities between two such philosophically different races.
"Thank you, Captain;" Keek said. "I come bearing rather grave news, and I thought it best to deliver it to you, personally."
Kelek did not mention the confrontation of the previous day.
Kirk nodded. "Very well…what is it?" He really did not wish to take these gentlemen on a walkthrough of the ship, if it could be avoided.
Kelek paused. "I would really like to speak with you in private, Captain, this is…something of a delicate matter, really." Kelek was grimly insistent.
Kirk turned to glance at Spock, and then Scott. Scott inclined his head and stiffly smirked, distrusting, but remained in diplomatic mode. Spock pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, his attitude typically non-committal.
"I understand your hesitation, Captain," Kelek said with a slight, ironic smile, "…but I can assure you that we are not here to steal your methods of corridor construction, and that we will not ask to tour the more…sensitive…areas of your starship."
Kirk smiled, knowing full well that there was likely among this small entourage, at least one team member expertly-versed in ship construction. This person could very likely deduce certain sensitive details from the simplest surroundings. But then—despite recent upgrades, and being the Starfleet workhorse it was—the CONSTITUTION-class, now over 20 years old, was no longer considered state-of-the-art.
"Well…when you…put it like that," he said. "Let's take this to the Conference Room."
Scott's disapproval was plainly obvious, but he went along.
When the group arrived at the Conference Room, Kirk motioned Kelek inside, and he and Spock followed. He gestured for the others to remain outside. Kelek, in deference, did the same for his group. Scott, for his part, did his best to engage the Romulans, and keep their attentions focused on him.
Kirk offered the Ambassador a refreshment; he declined, getting right to business. "I wanted you to know, Captain, that the Estri leader, the Galiar, has declared your vessel, and you, personally, a target."
Kirk chuckled. "Really? Well, I'm honored."
Kelek did not share his amusement. "This is not a laughing matter, Captain. He went on to explain the intricacies of formal Estri grudges and vendettas, which can last for generations. "We have come to understand that the reach and capability of these people is not to be taken lightly. You have seen that, for yourself."
"Ambassador," Spock, arms behind his back, interjected; "…as to that. Have you any idea where such an otherwise…relatively simple people…are successfully obtaining for themselves…such advanced devices and weapons as warp shuttles and disruptors, much less the materials to make such precise things as antimatter-based explosives? Much less, the required training to utilize them? Logically, they must have an off-world source, and some form of formal mentorship."
Kelek chose his words carefully, here; all he said was, "Our intelligence arm is looking into it. These Estri are little more than savages; their religious fanaticism has proven unpredictable."
"I was not aware that the Romulans practiced religious bigotry," Spock goaded. Ambassador Kelek smiled humorlessly at the jab.
"We do not;" he said; "…officially—or unofficially—the Empire cares not, to which false deities its subjects choose to offer their devotions. Clearly, these…'gods'…were not powerful—or perhaps faithful—enough, to intervene in their conquest by the Romulan Empire."
Kirk thought that perhaps, that idea had some merit.
"As I say," Kelek went on, "our intelligence agencies are looking into it."
Spock pursed his lips and nodded slightly. "It would seem logical that they should be doing so, and with no little alacrity."
He tilted his head and drew his brow, earnestly; "I am certain that—given the dire circumstances—if the Romulan Empire were simply to ask, Starfleet Intelligence would be more than happy to make its own facilities available. You understand…to assist in your investigations…"
Kelek blanched at this; Kirk coughed.
"I…think our discussion is over, Captain," the Romulan, glaring at the Vulcan, said. His ire was barely contained. He spun and made for the door.
Kirk and Spock lagged behind, for a moment.
"That was tactful," Kirk leaned in and murmured, with a soft grin.
"Mmm…" Spock nodded, tight-lipped. "He knows much more than he is letting on," he whispered.
"I agree," Kirk ceded, "but…let's try not to make too many enemies, shall we? We're a long way from home."
As the troupe headed back to the Transporter, the comm panel whistled, and Kirk excused himself, instructing the others to continue.
"Kirk here,"
"Kennedy here, sir; a Federation transport shuttle has arrived from Romulus. The Federation Ambassador, Alistair Newcombe, is aboard. He wants to beam over."
"Hmm…I wasn't aware the Federation had an ambassador to Romulus. Well, we seem to be getting all sorts of esteemed guests, today. Permission granted. Kirk out."

Newcombe and two of his aides beamed aboard, just as the Romulan party was preparing to leave. Newcombe, by his accent and overall demeanor, was a Brit.
Kirk took a second to introduce the two diplomats. While Newcombe was formally jovial, both seemed oddly uncomfortable in the encounter. Most especially Kelek, who merely nodded his greeting and turned, quickly mounting the Transporter. Without a further word, the Romulan delegation was gone, beamed back to the V'RA'DAT.
His brow furrowed, Newcombe gazed at the Transporter pad. "Captain," he said, turning his head to Kirk, "…you did say that that gentleman was an ambassador, did you not?"
"Yes;" Kirk replied. "Ambassador Kelek. Why?"
Newcombe chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, troubled. He turned, and eyes met Kirk's.
"Captain," he began, "I have been the Federation ambassador-at-large to the Romulan Empire for three years-ever since our efforts at amity, following your tragic encounter with the Bird-of-Prey…I have attended conferences, banquets…diplomatic functions of all kinds involving the Romulan diplomatic corps…such as it is…" he turned again to face the Transporter, "…and I've never seen that man before, in my life."
"That would seem highly unlikely," Spock said evenly, and matter-of-factly. He came over to stand with Kirk and Newcombe.
Newcombe looked to him. "Indeed," was all he said, darkly.

"What can we do for you, Ambassador Newcombe?" Kirk asked. He, Spock, McCoy, Scott and Uhura sat around the conference table. Newcombe sat at one end, his chief aide sitting at his right hand.
The diplomat smiled stiffly. "We bring word from Federation Intelligence, Captain." He nodded to his aide, who opened a secure diplomatic pouch and produced a data disk. It was black, indicating classified information, and so was probably deeply encrypted. He rose and gravely handed it off to Kirk, who took it with a nod.
"So, our side is workin' on this, as well?" Scott said.
"Of course," Newcombe assured him. "But the Romulans naturally have something of a head start."
"Have you viewed the information on the disk, Ambassador?" Spock asked.
"I have," Newcombe admitted. "I am required to be as 'in the loop' as you, in cases like these. There are some items of interest, yes, but if you ask me, the 'classified' status is merely something of a formality, really. Unnecessary. Nothing all that pressing, or that can't be deduced. It was, for example, a warp shuttle, used to destroy Starbase 28…but we know that," Newcombe said, shrugging. He sat back, and stroked his beard. "What bothers me, as the chief Federation diplomat in this region, is that Ambassador…?" He looked at Kirk.
"Kelek," Kirk finished. "Yes. You don't know him?"
"Not at all," Newcombe said. "Not that I am…in the Empire all that much, really…but the Romulan diplomatic corps is known to be moderately smaller even, than the Klingons', who all but openly disdain diplomacy. One would think we'd have crossed paths at some point."
"…if he is, indeed, an Ambassador," Spock said.

Kirk was in his quarters, on McCoy's orders ostensibly resting, but in fact was going over some duty rosters and other business, which had gone undone in recent days. The comm panel whistled. "Kirk here," he said, absently thumbing the switch, and finished signing the reviewed documents.
"Captain," Lt. Uhura's voice came; "Commander Masar is requesting to beam over, sir. He wishes to meet with you for a moment. Privately."
Kirk's lips pursed momentarily. "Tell him to beam over, Lt. I'll meet him personally in the Transporter Room. Kirk out."

Masar appeared, alone, in the Transporter. His left hand rested on a worn pouch of what appeared to be some type of leather, the strap slung across his chest.
"No detectable weapons, sir," the Transporter operator assured him mildly. Security had been properly, if discreetly, notified.
"I am wholly unarmed, gentlemen," the Romulan assured them for his part, holding his hands up, palms outward.
Kirk nodded. "Welcome aboard, Commander," he said, waving him down. "To what do we owe your visit?"
"I would like to speak with you, privately, Captain," Masar said, "about a matter of some importance."
"So I'm told," Kirk replied. "I'm in the middle of clearing some ship's business. We can speak in my quarters, if you like."
Masar smiled slightly. "That would be acceptable."
At length, Kirk stepped aside, waving Masar through the door to his cabin. The Romulan looked around and nodded approvingly.
"Very nice," he said. "Romulan ship amenities are less inclined to what humans might call…'creature comforts'. Not as…sordid…as the Klingons, certainly. They wallow, and take much pride in their discomforts—they do eat live worms, after all, and drink fermented blood—but our quarters are not as…well-appointed, as these."
Kirk shrugged; "Keeping the crew happy and comfortable is very conducive to good performance of duty," he replied to the remark. He was unable to read it, and thought it might well be a thrust. "A tired, testy crew is…less inclined to do their jobs well."
Masar nodded in agreement, pulling the pouch's strap over his head, and setting it to the table top. With a mild flourish, he flipped the closure over, and said, "Well, there is one amenity in our fleet that I can guarantee you is not common to Federation Starships…" reaching in, his eyes not leaving Kirk's, he produced a bottle of light-blueish liquid. "Romulan Ale."
"Yes," Kirk said with a grin, "…I must admit that Romulan Ale—and especially, good Romulan Ale—is…rather uncommon."
"This is very good Romulan Ale, Captain," Masar smiled, hefting the bottle; "…to that, I can attest. Do you have glasses?"
Kirk produced a pair of tumblers from the cabinet, and Masar poured each of them three fingers, at least. Kirk goggled slightly, as he was handed his glass.
True Romulan Ale was what humans would consider a very hard liquor; a "sipping whiskey", his father had once said, comparable, even akin, to moonshine. Kirk had once, in a dive bar while he was at the Academy, done shots of it with friends…but not the good stuff. That stuff had been nasty; bitter, overpoweringly strong, and almost gag-inducing. Stuff that was passed off as "Romulan Ale" was typically some cheap knockoff; rotgut, often produced by the Orion or Arcturan syndicates.
For obvious reasons, the real stuff was rare in the Federation.
Masar raised his glass, saying, "to your good health," and took a slug first, to reassure Kirk that it was not tainted.
Kirk raised his glass in return sentiment, then sipped tentatively, well-remembering that sample he'd had, years before. That was an experience that was scorched into his memory.
Masar smiled knowingly, watching as the Captain held it in his mouth, tasting it for a moment—testing it, really—then swallowed. The ale was strong, yet smooth and fiery, with a pleasant, somewhat woody aftertaste. This was clearly the good stuff.
Kirk couldn't be certain, but thought he detected a hint of what might be described as apples. He smiled in approval, and took another sip. Masar raised his glass again, and sipped. Kirk sat at his table, and indicated for the Romulan to take a seat, setting aside the PADD he'd been using.
He briefly related the story of doing the shots of cheap Romulan Ale; the two laughed, and Masar told a similar tale or two of his own youth. Silence descended.
"Now, what can I do for you?" Kirk asked at last, turning serious.
"There are some things you need to know, Captain, that are being kept from you," Masar intoned gravely, after a moment's consideration. "Considering the circumstances, I find that…unfair. I wanted to discuss it with you, but I needed to be certain we were not being…" with his glass, he motioned around the room; "…overheard."
Kirk almost said that he wasn't surprised about any of this, but kept it to himself. "And that might be…?"
Masar sipped his drink. "Ambassador Kelek is not as smart as he thinks he is," he said.
"Oh?" Kirk prodded, interested. He crossed his legs and settled in.
"The Romulan Empire is a curious place, Captain," Masar went on. "Duplicity and opaqueness in our society is common on every level. Everyone has to be on guard, and keep an eye on everyone else, lest they say or do the wrong thing in front of the wrong person, and wind up in prison. Or worse. Everyone maintains their own…'intelligence network'; everyone pays attention to everyone else, as best they can. It isn't just a duty for us, it is survival."
"That…doesn't sound like a very…comfortable, or relaxing…way to live," Kirk opined. Inwardly, however, he considered that this was usually the case, with totalitarian cultures.
Masar smiled grimly; "As you humans might say, 'it is what it is'. What you need to understand first, is that since the ascension of this new religious leader who has galvanized so much of the population, the Romulan governorship of Halor has lost a good measure of influence. In very many respects it is all but ineffective, at the moment. Barely maintaining control."
Kirk nodded his understanding, and sipped his drink, indicating for the Commander to go on.
"Kelek is not an ambassador, Captain," Masar said then, simply, his voice low. "I know him; he doesn't seem to remember me, but I know him. He is a longtime veteran and highly-placed agent of the Tal Shiar. I suspect, given his position within the organization, that he has been tasked with sorting out the situation.
Having to work with you and the Klingon delegation in this case, and to avoid involving too many people, he has been granted 'ambassador status'. By the Praetor, himself, in fact."
Kirk smiled. "I'll…try to be impressed," he said. "I had a feeling about him." He trusted this Romulan, and so related the Federation ambassador's concerns. Masar chuckled at Kelek's blunder in encountering the veteran Newcombe.
"Make no mistake, however," he said, "Kelek being here is, somehow, no accident. He is too highly-placed an operative for such mundane work. He is here for some reason and, I'm certain, not entirely for this investigation. He will do whatever it takes to safeguard whatever he feels are the best interests of the Empire."
"And that is his job," Kirk conceded, after a pause. "…I will do whatever I can, to facilitate the best interests of the Federation. That is my job."
Left unsaid by either, was the fact that he had no real jurisdiction, here, while Kelek had every jurisdiction.
Suddenly, a distant explosion rocked the decks. The alert klaxon instantly blared, throughout the ship.
"Intruder alert!" came the tense voice of Lt. Uhura.
Kirk, exchanging glances with Masar, was out of his chair in an instant, and over to his work station. He thumbed the switch as Uhura's voice bellowed in the corridors, again, over the klaxon; "Intruder alert; Security team to Engineering."
"Kirk to Bridge; situation?"
"Spock here, Captain," came the reply. "An intruder has beamed directly into Engineering; there has been an explosion, shields are down, and that is all we know, at present."
"Understood; call Bones and meet me in Engineering."
Kirk turned to shoot a glare at Masar "…and have Security send a guard to my quarters. Armed. Have him guard the door. And hail the TAMRUD; tell them Commander Masar will be here, as a…a guest, until we get this sorted out. Kirk out."
He glared accusingly at Masar who, repeating his earlier palms-out gesture, slowly shook his head and said, "I know nothing of this, Captain…truly."
"Stay here," Kirk said tersely, after a moment. "I'm placing a guard on the door."
"I understand," Masar said, and Kirk was gone.

Kirk raced to Engineering, finding the corridor filled with acrid smoke. The door stood half-open, the mechanism apparently frozen.
Spock was standing just inside the doorway, Scott beside him, disheveled and sporting a deep cut, still bleeding, on his forehead. He was cradling his arm painfully. A sore-looking bump protruded under his uniform sleeve and his right arm, clearly broken, was slightly cocked at an odd angle. Spock held a tricorder, and was taking a scan of the room, wherein damaged equipment panels sparked and sputtered.
Led by a dispassionate McCoy, medical personnel were already on the scene, tending to or carrying several injured crewmembers on anti-grav gurneys. Kirk looked to Spock, and inclined his head. "Report."
"Seven injured, including Mr. Scott," Spock stated. "Three severely. Three more dead, Captain."
Kirk grimaced.
"Are you okay, Scotty?" he asked. Scott nodded painfully, and indicated his arm, but said that he thought he would live. "What's happened?" Kirk asked.
"Apparently, someone from the surface beamed directly into Engineering," Spock explained.
"Aye," Scott said. "Materialized in the middle of the room, ran right over the warp core bay, and blew up. Just like that."
"How did they get in?" Kirk asked.
"Unknown at present," Spock intoned,"…but Mr. Scott and I do have a theory." Kirk indicated that it could wait a bit.
"The explosion occurred over there," Spock said, pointing. A closer inspection would be made, when the medical staff finished. "Whoever it was, they were apparently equipped with a minute sample…of anti-matter."
Kirk's brow rose incredulously. "How are we still standing here?" he asked.
Spock nodded slowly, in agreement. "The conventional explosive intended to rupture the magnetic bottle containing the anti-matter either somehow misfired, or was not sufficiently powerful, to rupture the container." He let the tricorder hang at his side, and placed his arms behind his back. "Despite the extensive damage and casualties, we were most fortunate."
"That's an understatement," Scott breathed.
At length, the injured and dead had been removed. Good-naturedly, Scott stubbornly put off McCoy's order that he report to Sickbay for treatment for his broken arm. McCoy huffed, but took a moment and closed the cut on his forehead, leaving him with a gruff admonition to get to Sickbay as soon as possible.
With that, Spock, Scott and Kirk, accompanied by two engineering officers and a staffer from Spock's Sciences department, swept the room.
A large black mark on the deck and bulkhead indicated where the explosion had occurred. Gore, sundered flesh and limbs, and bits and strips of burnt fabric were spattered about the room, and hung from blackened, shattered equipment, work stations and walls.
It was one of Scott's men who found the dented container of anti-matter, a small box, no bigger than a lipstick tube. Scott knelt painfully beside it, motioned to a staffer to hand him an engineering tricorder, and silently scanned it. He nodded to Kirk that it was still contained, "but it's seeping radiation," which indicated that it might not be, for long.
"Get me a pair of grippers," he said crisply, and was handed a longish, telescoping tool, usually used to reach things down from high places, or from deep inside the internal engine compartments. He carefully placed the pincer end around the box, and squeezed the grip. Its rubber tips closed around the small container, and he gingerly picked it up. If he dropped it, it could rupture, and that would be it.
"Can you get it to the Transporter room, Scotty?" Kirk asked tensely. "Beam it out into space."
Scott laughed merrily, if bit mockingly. "With all due respect, sir…what we have here is good, usable anti-matter. Do you know how hard it is, to requisition this stuff from the Fleet yards? They dole it out wi' an eye dropper."
Kirk glanced uncertainly at Spock who, again holding his own tricorder and carefully scanning the container, merely raised an eyebrow at the conversation.
"I'm keepin' this, in case we ever need it for our own use," Scott said, and took it away to wherever insane engineers store such things as potentially-apocalyptic sources of energy. He returned in a few minutes. "…'Ye ne'er know', as m' dear, sainted mother used to say." He smiled, but grimaced, then, and cradled his injured right arm.
Scott then went to the main control panel to assess the damage. He grimaced again, in distaste, as he used the grippers to brush aside a sizeable chunk of fleshy matter, remains of the bomber, pushing it to the floor, where it fell with a wet thud.
"Shields are still down," he reported, "life support is fluctuating on three decks; this one, an' right above an' below…we'll start to work on it as soon as possible."
Kirk shook his head; "Not you, Mr. Scott; you get to Sickbay. McCoy's waiting."
Scott smiled through his pain. "McCoy has bigger fish t'fry right now, sir. I'll get there."
Kirk couldn't argue with that. Right now, Scott was needed here, in his own domain. He made a mental note to issue citations to all the medical and engineering personnel who had directly assisted in this crisis. He would also have to write condolence letters to grieving families, a task he loathed.
"What's your theory, then?" he asked Scott and Spock. "How did this person get in here, through our shields?"
Spock deferred to the Chief Engineer. "Well, y'see sir, it has t'do with modulation of the defensive shields…"
Kirk's face registered understanding, then, but he remained silent, as Scott went on. "…when our shields are up for extended periods-as in days, as they've been—they have t' periodically cycle down for a few moments, t' draw a recharge."
Kirk nodded knowingly, "And this requires a momentary weakening, or even a full drop, depending."
Scott smiled. "Aye, sir."
Spock then cut in. "They were able to time their beam-in with the cycling of our shields. It is logical, then, to assume that they—whoever 'they' may be—have been scanning us for some time. Or someone has, and then feeding the attackers the appropriate information."
Kirk nodded, "What if we—"
"Captain and Mr. Spock to the Bridge," Sulu's voice suddenly echoed through the large room. The phrase repeated, urgently.
"What now?" Kirk asked.

Kirk and Spock exited the turbolift. "Report," Kirk said, sliding into his chair.
"There's a shuttle coming up from the surface, sir," Sulu said. "It's on a direct collision course with us."
"Let me guess," Kirk said, "…a warp-capable shuttle."
"Aye, sir;" the Helmsman confirmed grimly.
"And our shields are still inoperable," Spock noted, unnecessarily. Kirk ordered the shuttle to be pulled up on the viewscreen, and there it was. It was tiny against the vista of the planet behind and below. But growing. All too quickly.
"It certainly does seem that someone is…"out to get us"…as you humans say."
It was a small, probably medium-range vehicle; whatever antimatter it might use for warp-powered speeds would be minimal, but eminently practical for destroying, or at least severely disabling, a Federation Starship.
"Hail them," Kirk tersely ordered. A channel was opened.
Overheard, instantly translated into Federation standard from the Estri tongue, was a male voice. "God is great! Blessed be Muh'Ekalah, the Holy One who gives me courage to do what I must! God is great! God is great!"
The phrase was endlessly repeated, even as Kirk, ignored, attempted to talk with the pilot. The shuttle bore down on the Starship, and Kirk unwillingly ordered the arming of phasers.
He made one last attempt at disarming the situation, as the shuttle came within less than 300 yards of impact, the pilot, preparing for death, now frantically screaming his mantra.
Suddenly, just short of impact, the shuttle violently exploded, destroyed by a barrage from the V'RA'DAT. The ENTERPRISE rocked from the point-blank explosion.
Moments later came the voice of Kelek.
"You see, Captain? Savages; zealots." His tone was not mocking or bitter, but rather, matter-of-fact. "They cannot be reasoned with, or dissuaded. They can only be forcibly suppressed, coerced…and, when that fails…killed. You're welcome, Captain." And the channel was closed.
Spock came down to stand by Kirk's chair. He stood silently for several moments, as if in contemplation. "Spock?" Kirk asked, at last.
"Much about this troubles me, of course;" the Vulcan said. "But what I find most intriguing of all, is where these…supposedly simple, backward people…are getting a seemingly endless supply of advanced, warp-capable shuttles…much less raw antimatter, and the expertise to handle it." He turned to look at the Captain, who had no answers.
Kirk scowled. He left Spock in charge of the Bridge and returned to his quarters, there to find the guard, still standing station.
"Thank you, Ensign," he said. The Security guard nodded and stepped aside.
He found Masar still sitting at the table. It had been over an hour, and an eventful period, it was.
"I'm sorry, Commander;" Kirk said. "I was…detained." He explained the situation.
"Understood, Captain;" Masar replied sincerely, "As a fellow ship commander, I am…sorry for your losses…but I should like to return to my vessel, now."
Kirk nodded. "Of course; I'll have the guard take you to the Transporter room." At that moment, the comm panel whistled. "Kirk here."
"Spock here, Captain; I have taken a rather detailed scan of the space surrounding us, and have discovered a residual energy field that very much resembles a transporter beam. It has the same energy signature as the one used by the bomber. I believe we may be able to follow it to the source of the attack."
Kirk's jaw tightened at this unexpected stroke of luck. "Well done, Spock. Call Security; we'll beam down there, and see if we can't get to the root of this. Meet me in the Transporter room."
Masar stood silently for a moment, then said, "Captain…that would…not…be advisable. At all. Off-worlders are not welcome, on Halor. I recommend that you let the Empire's planetary authorities handle this in their own time, and way."
Kirk's brow darkened. "But you just told me, not two hours ago, that the planetary authorities here couldn't be trusted. Were virtually ineffectual."
Masar sighed, and nodded…this was true. "Very well; do as you will. I will return to my ship. Good luck."
Kirk and the guard took him to the Transporter room, and he as he was beaming out, looking troubled, Spock and the security team came in, fully armed.
"Phasers on stun," Kirk said, adjusting his own phaser weapon and placing it to his side.
Kirk, Spock and the Security men were on the surface in seconds, Sulu left in command of the ship. He trusted the Helmsman, but these circumstances were less-than optimal, for sure. Kirk hoped nothing untoward arose, while they were there.
They were in a boisterous marketplace area, in a small village which looked like something out of Middle Ages Europe. Sweeping off in every direction from the village were broad fields of an orange-ish grass, trees and shrubs of varying colors, some even green. Some sort of avian creatures soared high above.
The Estri people, tall, gangly purplish beings with small eyes and mouths and sharp bone structures, were clothed in robes and tunics of varying sorts of homespun fabrics. Their feet were wrapped, rather than shod. Kirk noted that females seemed to be in a definite minority in the crowd.
Stone buildings-well-built and -kept, yet rough, simple and worn with time-sided the beaten dirt street. A few wooden structures, which looked to be somewhat newer, stood here and there. Kirk thought absently that the Estri deserved their reputations as craftsmen.
Off in the far distance were visible what appeared to be the sundered remains of what had clearly been a sizable, and probably advanced, city. Kirk wondered if anyone still lived there.
Low, rugged hills of rough rock ringed the village, the dirt road leading off into the distance, probably to the large city.
"This dirt path might once have been part of a major thoroughfare," Spock remarked, observing the surroundings.
The populace seemed relatively unconcerned by the six aliens who had just beamed into their midst…probably due to generations of interactions with the Romulans. They simply went on about their business.
Spock had his tricorder out, and was carefully scanning the area. "The source of the beamout is over there," he said, pointing at a large, elaborate structure up the street. "I am still detecting some residual energy." The large structure was possibly a temple.
"Let's go," Kirk said, moving up the street. Spock grabbed his arm.
"Captain, you may wish to reconsider approaching that building. If it is indeed a temple, the resulting consequences could be…unfortunate."
Kirk considered this, but said, "We need to find out who's behind this, Spock. It has to be done." Spock agreed, and the group moved as one, Kirk in the lead.
They came within perhaps ten yards of the building.
Suddenly a voice, shouting in Estri, raised an angry alarm.
The crowds turned to the ENTERPRISE group, and instantly set upon them.
Clubs and rocks appeared as if by magic, and Kirk was knocked to the dusty ground. He kicked out, and dropped one attacker, rose quickly and punched a couple more. A phaser fired, and several people dropped, stunned, but it was no good…the ENTERPRISE group was quickly overcome. Hundreds were there, swinging clubs and throwing rocks at the group. The team was dragged away from the building, back into the street.
Kirk, assaulted and bleeding, was felled from a blow to the head. He pulled himself into a sheltering fetal position and flipped open his communicator. It was beaten from his hand, however, and like the rest of his men, he could only lay in a ball, ducking and covering as the vicious blows came.
Kirk began to fade into painful unconsciousness. He wondered how the rest of his men were faring. Not well, clearly. He should've listened to Masar.
A great rush of roaring wind came, then, very warm, and moist. The warm midday sun was blocked out, and the crowd, yelling, dissipated quickly. Groggily and bleeding in pain, Kirk opened his eyes.
Above the prone, injured Starfleet men was a Romulan scout ship, decloaking no more than 50 feet off the ground. The ship's disruptors noisily fired into the sky, for good measure. The crowd further evaporated.
The warm, moist rush of air had been a simple purging of the waste air tanks, normally done in space, or in the upper atmosphere. It was a harmless, if frightening, noise. Kirk and his team disappeared into the humming, swirling green glow of Romulan transporters.

The ENTERPRISE men found themselves in the medical section of Masar's ship, the TAMRUD. They were suffering from various cuts, contusions and abrasions, some relatively severe.
The door slid open, and Masar came in and walked straight to Kirk.
"Did I not tell you, Captain, to not go down there?" he asked.
"…You did," Kirk said abashedly.
"You are fortunate to all be alive," Masar chided.
"We are," Kirk admitted.
Masar explained: "You dared to approach an Estri temple of Muh'Ekalah; a house of worship. No one from off-world—no one who is not of the Estri—is permitted to even look closely at such a structure, which renders it unclean."
Kirk only nodded, feeling properly chastised.
Masar addressed the small group. "The ENTERPRISE has been alerted to the situation; you gentlemen will be back on your own ship soon, once our medical staff clears you. For now, rest." And he was gone. As promised, the team was returned to the ENTERPRISE within an hour.

After a thorough, mildly-contemptuous check by an ill-humored McCoy and his staff of prodding minions, the men were allowed to return to their quarters to rest. Kirk and Spock, by order of the Chief Medical Officer, were officially off-duty, and weren't to be seen on the Bridge until the next afternoon at the earliest—an edict which could be officially enforced with Starfleet Command.
"Lights up, three-quarter bright," Kirk said upon entering darkened his quarters. He changed out of his dirty uniform and took a nice long real shower, hot, shrugging and stretching the sore stiffness out of his muscles. He changed into his casual greens, intending to head down for something to eat. Maybe see if Spock wanted to play tri-dim chess.
It was then that he saw, on the countertop, two bottles of Romulan Ale. One was full, one partial…left by Masar.
Beneath one bottle was a note, written in Romulan script. He took it to the computer and inserted it. "Computer," he said.
"Working," came the tinny, monotone, artificial voice.
"Translate this document, please."
A moment of hums and whirrs, then, in the monotone voice, "Please enjoy these with my compliments. I am sincerely sorry for all that has transpired. I enjoyed our talk."
Pleasant, upbeat.
Kirk smiled softly and poured himself a small amount of ale. He didn't want to waste the good stuff. Bones and Scotty would appreciate this, he thought. Then he went to get some dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~
Spock moved his piece. "Check," he said. "Captain, you are distracted. You are not up to your usual game."
"Hm…?" Kirk said. "Oh, yes. Sorry, Spock; I…do have something on my mind."
"Perhaps you would like to discuss it?"
Kirk waved it off, but continued. "It's this whole thing about killing off the Estri. The whole race…I don't like being a party to it."
Spock shook his head. "Logically, and strictly-speaking, you are not a 'party to it'. At most, you are peripherally involved. The decision was not yours, nor will you be involved in the execution of the plan."
Kirk smiled ruefully. "…'Execution'…pun intended, Spock?" he asked mildly.
Spock plowed over the attempt at dark levity, ignoring it. "This is not your burden, Jim. The Romulans have made this choice, and it will be they who act upon it. I do not believe that they will do so, with the same displaced guilt with which you torment yourself. Perhaps if the Estri, cumulatively, were—"
Kirk looked up, just then, cutting him off. "What did you just say?"
"I beg your pardon?" Spock asked.
"You just said something about the Estri cumulatively…" he was clearly growing excited.
"Yes…" Spock ceded; "If the Estri were to cumulatively…"
"Cumulatively!" Kirk said, forcefully, cutting him off again. "That's it!" he said, joyfully. "Spock! You're a genius!" With that, he rose and left the room in a hurry, Spock gazing mystified after him, brows drawn.

Kirk went to the Bridge, and asked Uhura to summon McCoy, and to get him Ambassador Kelek. In minutes, Kelek's face appeared, giant on the forward viewer.
McCoy arrived just after, Spock with him. Kirk motioned to them. McCoy started to say something about his official order, but Kirk gruffly silenced him with a waved hand.
"Yes, Captain; what is it?" Kelek asked, grumpily. He'd obviously been sleeping.
"Pardon my intrusion, Ambassador," Kirk said, "…but I believe I may have a solution to our problem."
Kelek yawned. "And what problem is that?"
"You may not have to kill off the Estri race," Kirk said, glancing at McCoy, who grinned like a fool in disbelief. Spock only looked on, brow arching upward.
Kelek's oversize face stared in puzzlement. "That decision has been made, Captain," he said, "…by authorities much higher than you and me."
"But it's not necessary;" Kirk explained "…if you'll only hear me out, Ambassador…"
"The plague samples are due here at any time," Kelek said sharply, cutting him off, "…and will be utilized as ordered. The matter is settled. Goodbye, Captain." And the channel was closed.
Taking Kelek's place on the screen once again was Halor, rotating serenely below, a crescent of black space to the top right of the screen. The planet we unaware of the fate which awaited its inhabitants.
"Well, I guess that's it," McCoy said dejectedly. "Kelek's was the final word."
"Not entirely," Kirk said. "We might still have one card to play." He turned. "Uhura, please get me Ambassador Newcombe."
"What's your plan, Jim?" McCoy asked.
"Yes," Spock said. "what notion did I inadvertently inspire?"
While they waited for Newcombe to reply, Kirk related his idea.
"The Romulans have come to very much prize the Estri craftsmanship, right?" McCoy and Spock ceded this fact. Kirk went on:
"They would be very much at a loss, without these people and their handiwork. Well, what if all of the Estri craftsmen were brought home to Halor, the materials brought to them, to do as much of the work here, as possible? It could then be shipped out and assembled, wherever need be. Surely that could be worked out. They would be restricted to this world only, never leaving. The Estri as race could be isolated to their planet—or as much as possible, at least—not able to bother anyone but each other. They'd get to avoid extermination…and the Romulans would get to keep their craftsmen. Everybody wins."
"Jim, that's brilliant!" McCoy said.
"Indeed," Spock said. "It is perhaps an inelegant solution…to an inelegant situation. But it is a solution. Assuming the Romulans…and the Estri…will agree to it."
Ambassador Newcombe appeared on the viewer, and Kirk explained the situation, and his possible solution. Also, that Kelek had already blackballed it. "Never fear, Captain;" Newcombe said. "Let me 'make a few calls', as the saying used to go. I'll be in touch."

Within three hours, Kirk and Tolag were summoned to Kelek's office/quarters aboard the V'RA'DAT.
Kelek glowered at Kirk as they entered.
"Why did you meddle, human?" he asked, simply. "This was an internal matter of the Romulan Empire."
"What has happened?" Tolag demanded. When told, he roared and spun, quick as an adder, on Kirk. His fist, covered by the heavy, studded gauntlet, crashed into the side of Kirk's head.
Stunned and suddenly disoriented, Kirk was thrown to the bulkhead by the blunt-force impact. He then found himself hauled up by Tolag, who lifted him from the floor with one arm, hand tightly at his throat, and held him up. Kirk's airway was severely constricted, his breath wheezing; his boots dangled a good fifteen inches off the floor. His hands were wrapped around Tolag's fingers, trying desperately to dislodge them and break the monstrous Klingon's grip. He delivered a deft double chop to the General's throat, but in the big Klingon's wild rage, it had little effect, his grip relaxing just enough to let a little air in.
Kirk had a moment, then, to be grateful that Tolag's dagger had once more been confiscated.
Not that he was faring much better, for it.
Another two sound blows to Kirk's face, the metal studs working their painful magic on his cheek, which instantly erupted in blood and, Kirk was sure, crushing his cheekbone. He felt his lip split. If the Klingon's hand hadn't been wrapped around his throat, Kirk thought, the impact would surely have broken his neck.
Gore also streamed down the side of his head, into his left eye, which was already swelling shut. Another brutal blow, this time to his gut. He huffed, feeling some ribs go, and writhed in Tolag's grip, trying frantically to free himself. He swung blindly, his fist crashing into Tolag's face, to little avail. The motion sent lightning bolts of pain crackling across his torso.
Kelek, for his part, said nothing; he only sat calmly back, watching.
Tolag viciously pulled Kirk downward and in, level to his face. He reached to his belt buckle and, tugging slightly, produced a small, wicked-looking blade, hidden therein. Of course he had another, hidden weapon, Kirk thought. Of course, he did.
He pulled Kirk closer and sharply head-butted him, the jagged brow ridges tearing sharply into his forehead. He then said-his hot, stinking breath and spittle trained purposely into Kirk's face-"If our dead are not to be avenged by killing these contemptable, cowardly insects," he said, through gritted, brown teeth, "…then perhaps honor will be satisfied by killing you, the human who saved them…."
"Well," Kirk wheezed, "…at least you don't seem to find us humans 'contemptible'."
Tolag sneered and showed the treacherously pointed, barbed, glinting blade to Kirk, who could barely see it. "Don't I?" he snarled, holding the blade to Kirk's jawline.
Just as the Klingon moved to make the killing blow, Kelek motioned to his guards.
Tolag and Kirk were enveloped by green stun beams and-a second and a third for Tolag, who did not succumb easily-fell to the floor, both deeply unconscious.
For Kirk, in much pain, it was a blessing.
Kirk was laid upon the Transporter platform and summarily returned to the ENTERPRISE, General Tolag returned similarly to his flagship.
Kelek, always hating these backwater systems, gratefully prepared to return to Romulus, and civilization. His work here was done.

The next morning, Kirk awoke in Sickbay, a creaking mess of bandages and pain. Chapel came in with a tray of light foods, that Kirk already knew he didn't feel like eating. She saw that he was awake, greeted him cheerily, and informed McCoy, who came in a few minutes later, Spock in tow.
"Don't you two ever go anywhere without each other?" Kirk asked sardonically, trying gingerly to sit up. He hissed painfully.
"Stay down Jim;" McCoy said firmly, "…you're pretty banged-up." He chuckled, then. "By God, you look like you went ten rounds with the Federation Heavyweight Champion."
"You don't say," Kirk grunted in retort, agreeing and laying back with a pained groan.
"May we inquire as to what occurred?" Spock asked.
"The good General Tolag wasn't a fan of my…'inelegant solution', and Kelek let him take his frustrations out on me. I can therefore deduce that Kelek wasn't too pleased, either."
"Well," McCoy said, "for your information…you've got numerous cuts and bruises, a big black eye, several puncture wounds, three broken ribs, a severely bruised collarbone, a smashed cheekbone…and a partridge in a pear tree," he finished up, with a grin and a shrug. "I closed up most of the cuts and punctures and started mending the cheekbone, but the ribs'll have to heal on their own. I'm amazed you're not missing any teeth."
He then looked at Kirk's vitals, registered on the large scanner on the wall behind the bed.
"How's the other guy look?" he asked, running his handheld mediscanner over the Captain.
"Better than me," Kirk admitted, grimacing and running a gentle hand over his bruised throat.
"Well, don't feel too bad, Jim-boy;" McCoy smiled. "…you're not the first person to get their ass handed to them by a Klingon. And you won't be the last."
Kirk was left to rest, and for a little over an hour, he did.

Kirk, still bandaged and bruised, sat in his command chair, the alarm klaxon blaring.
The eight Klingon cruisers—each, Spock reminded them, of the new, larger and more powerful K'Tinga class—appeared on the viewer.
They were arrayed in pairs.
Behind each pair, held by tractor beams, was a sizeable asteroid—each as large as could be towed by the formidable ships—which was very large, culled from the system's asteroid belt. The power consumed in this maneuver would have been enormous.
It was clear what was happening. "Hail them!" Kirk commanded forcefully; Uhura did as he ordered. "No response, Captain," she said.
"Try again," he said stiffly.
"No response."
At last, the grim features of General Tolag appeared on the viewer. "If the weak and failing Romulan Empire will not avenge our dead," he said, "…we will." And that was all.
As the bridge crew watched, disbelieving, the ships dragged the large rocks toward the planet and cut off their tractor beams, smoothly peeling away, and setting their payloads on their destructive course.
As they peeled off, each ship randomly fired a volley of torpedoes at the surface, as a final insult and show of uncaring disrespect.
"My God… McCoy breathed. Oh, no; please, no…"
They watched as the Klingons, their work done, simply pulled into formation and warped out of the system, headed for home.
The Romulans did nothing to stop them.
The asteroids entered the planet's atmosphere, and began a fatal, glowing descent that, Spock dispassionately concluded, would encircle the planet in fire, likely killing every life on the surface. Anything that survived would very likely succumb later, to the debris in what remained of the atmosphere.
The planet would be utterly decimated.
The first asteroid impacted on the surface; a massive, glowing mushroom cloud of debris, ugly and terrible, rose into the atmosphere. A fiery shockwave of kinetic energy spread outward in an expanding circle from the point of impact, as the others hit. The resultant shockwaves sundered and vaporized everything in their path.
Within minutes, as had Spock predicted, waves of fire wreathed the surface, destroying everything. Clouds of steam rose visibly from the oceans.
Kirk said nothing. There was nothing to say.
"Captain," Uhura, her voice tinged and meek with tears, said. "Message coming in from Commander Masar, sir. Audio only."
"On speakers, Lieutenant."
"…business here is concluded, ENTERPRISE. You will leave this system, and Romulan space, immediately. You have 27 of your hours to reach Federation space. Otherwise, you will be declared in violation of treaty, and an enemy combatant."
Chewing his swollen, split lip, Kirk nodded. That sounded about right. He understood, however, that Masar was only delivering the message. "We'll have to strain the engines at maximum warp to make that, sir," Scott said, after a brief calculation. "If we start right now."
Kirk sighed. "I'm…sure…the good Ambassador Kelek knows that, Scotty. Then let's go home. Helm, maximum warp; and…whatever else you can give us, Mister Scott."
"Aye, sir," the Chief Engineer said solemnly, and left the Bridge for Engineering, for what would be a long shift, tending his strained, beloved bairns.
Kirk looked at the devastated planet as it receded into the star-flecked void. There would be no merciful aid from the Romulans, he knew. No searching for survivors. Whoever might be left down there was on their own. This, however, he had to admit, was arguably a better, and definitely quicker, death than the one the Romulans had planned.
This was not what they had come here for…but it was too late for regrets. Far too late.
On Kirk's order, the ENTERPRISE slipped into warp, making for the Neutral Zone, and home.
On McCoy's orders, a sore and aching Kirk retired to his quarters, and slept a restless sleep.

Kelek closed out his report and transmitted it to his so-called "superiors" in the Senate committee.
The gist of the report was essentially that thanks to the intervention of the Klingons, the people of Halor were obviously no longer a serious problem. The loss of the Estri master craftsmanship would be unfortunate, it was true, but other sources of labor would be located. Also unfortunate was the loss of several dozen occupation infantry on the last troop ship, which had launched just prior to the Klingon's action. It was destroyed as it rose from the surface, with loss of all aboard.
He sat back and considered the situation.
There were several aspects of the incident that did not make it into his typically mundane official report…
The Tal Shiar using the Estri had worked fine, at first.
Providing the backward fanatics with warp shuttles, supplies and weapons, and just enough training to carry out their attacks…this had succeeded in the Tal Shiar's goal of prodding this more liberal Praetor into tightening Romulus' military grip on various worlds of the Empire. Worlds which the agency felt were getting a little too much independence, for their own good.
That part of the plan had worked very well.
The Estri, however, had gotten a little too…ambitious…in their efforts. While attacking the political rivals of the Empire was not an altogether unworthy happenstance, such devastating occurrences had very nearly resulted in an embarrassing—but very likely purposeful, as the Estri, while unsophisticated, were not stupid—interstellar incident.
They had very likely been "playing both ends against the middle", as the apt human colloquialism went, and had been trying to cause trouble for their Romulan overlords.
They had very nearly succeeded…and the agents who had failed to properly control their Estri assets would be dealt with, presently. So would Masar, for his treason. He, Kelek, would see to that, personally.
It had been decided that from here, the original policy, before James T. Kirk's meddling, would be carried out; the Estri would be eliminated. The straggled remains of their race would be hunted own and snuffed out, as time and effort allowed. Given the death and destruction they had sown to this time, few Romulans or their subjugated would care, especially any in positions of authority.
Thanks to their numbers working throughout the Empire, however, and the fact that they will by now have "gone underground", it would likely take years, and perhaps many more such attacks, before the Estri were completely gone. Ironically, he thought without humor, their predilection for suicide attacks would actually help the Empire's efforts at exterminating them.
He glanced at the time; it was getting late, and he and his life-mate had plans for the evening, to which she had been very much looking forward. It wouldn't do, to disappoint.
Happy life-mate, happy life.
Kelek stood and donned his warm cloak against the wet, chilly weather outside. He had come to mildly resent the cooler seasons, really. He was getting older, and he reflected with unwilling resignation that such conditions were affecting him in ways they hadn't, only a few years ago. Old injuries, of which there were myriad, ached; his joints rebelled.
Picking up his satchel, he turned out the lights and exited his office, making his way down the sparse corridor.
"Jolan tru," he said, nodding to the pair of night guards at the entrance, who returned the greeting.
It was the last thing any of them knew.
The massive explosion, delivered by suicide attack, naturally, leveled the squat building and heavily damaged surrounding structures. Several hundred died.
The Estri claimed responsibility, less than an hour later.

The End