Historian's Note: Takes place not long before the events in 'The Mark of Gideon'.

Author's Note: I know that it is somewhat lazy writing to conveniently send the Enterprise somewhere else to be conveniently doing something else just so that I can isolate my favorite character and his favorite character, but frankly it was done so often in the series that I feel I have canonical justification. It should be noted that this is my first 'real' story, with chapters and a plot. My primary concern is that certain portions move too slowly, particularly in the areas of building the plot and background. I enjoy creating worlds, but I have no wish to bore my readers. I also need to know if it gets too sappy. Feedback on these matters would be greatly appreciated.

WARNING: I do not consider the injuries described in this story to be graphic in nature, but I feel it prudent to mention that this scrawling is rated T for violence.

EDIT March 2011: As a result of feedback, I have made extensive alterations. Most notable is the addition of chapter 14, scooting the original chapter 14 into chapter 15.

=(^)= The Dragons of Veyga =(^)=

The captain of the Enterprise was currently sitting at his chief medical officer's desk, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in a futile effort to hold off a headache.

"Captain Kirk," the nasal voice of Ambassador Coleman grated, "you do realize the importance of the situation, do you not?"

Kirk folded his hands atop the desk, absently rubbing one thumb back and forth over the other. He looked at the man glowering at him from the desk's small monitor and forced a pleasant smile. "Yes, Ambassador," he answered smoothly. "But if my science officer says there is too much interference for transporters to function, then I guarantee that stepping on the platform would be suicide."

"Then why are you not already on one of your shuttlecraft?" Coleman demanded angrily.

Kirk took a deep, calming breath. "My chief engineer and his best technicians have been up all through the ship's night and are at this very moment modifying the shields and engines of the Copernicus to allow it to function properly." His strained smile softened. "I've been told the radiation is a fascinating discovery, previously unknown to science." Coleman narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if he truly suspected Kirk of deliberately delaying his mission, and Kirk's smile slipped. "I have my orders, sir," he continued, trying to sound apologetic. "Beta Verida needs this trade agreement, and we have twelve days to get you to the coronation. This detour will not take long. I assure you, Ambassador, the Enterprise will be on time."

"You had better hope so," Coleman said with a scowl that deepened the aged lines of his face. He jabbed a finger at the viewscreen. "You have a reputation in diplomatic circles, Kirk – things always go wrong with your ship." Without another word, the communication abruptly terminated.

Kirk let his breath out slowly, staring at the wall in front of the terminal. It was fortunate that the bulkhead was comprised of the strongest alloy currently known to man, or else it might well have buckled under the angry glare leveled at it. A derisive snort drew Kirk's attention to the owner of the desk, leaning against the wall just out of range of the video pick-up with his arms crossed.

"He had no call to insult my crew," Kirk said as he got to his feet and stalked out of sickbay. Spock and McCoy had both already gotten their subcutaneous transponders earlier this morning, but Kirk had been delayed by one thing after another since he woke. The thing itched under his skin as it always did, and this - coupled with his lack of coffee - wasn't improving his mood. Pain he could handle, but he absolutely hated being itchy. "My ship does not have a rep for botched missions."

McCoy pushed away from the wall and scooped up his medkit from the desk. He looped the thin strap over his shoulder and hurried after Kirk, jogging a little to catch up with him in the corridor. "You know, Jim," he drawled lazily. "Before I signed on with you, I didn't believe in Fate. I didn't believe in hexes and curses, and I certainly didn't believe the universe was out to get ships named Enterprise."

The corridor ended in a turbolift and the doors slid open for them. "Bridge," Kirk barked once they were inside. "You're getting paranoid, Bones."

McCoy cast a sidelong glance at his commanding officer. "You can't honestly tell me that we don't have more than our fair share of bad luck."

Kirk lifted one shoulder in a reluctant shrug. "I'll admit… we do seem to attract trouble…"

"Well that does it - this mission is jinxed," McCoy sighed in resignation and ignored Kirk's annoyed frown. "On the bright side," he added, giving his friend a lopsided smile and waving a finger at the ceiling. "Spock's practically having kittens up there."

Kirk shook his head with a little laugh just as the lift opened onto the bridge. They both stepped out, but Kirk paused on the threshold to let the familiar sounds wash over him. It seemed to Kirk that diplomats should be adept at behaving in a pleasant and friendly manner, but for some reason this concept did not translate from theory to reality. Coleman wasn't the most obnoxious diplomat Kirk had ever met, but the man could try even a Vulcan's patience. At this thought, his eyes went automatically to the science station.

Kirk's foul mood evaporated and a corner of his mouth tweaked upward as he watched his first officer leaning over the hooded display. The star of this system emitted a completely unknown radiation, and, while Kirk was annoyed that this new discovery interfered with the functioning of his ship, he couldn't help but be amused by his science officer's carefully concealed enthusiasm. Kirk glanced at McCoy, and the doctor waggled his eyebrows in a clear challenge.

Uhura smiled at him as he passed her station, giving him a sympathetic look. "Yeoman Johnson is bringing coffee, sir," she said quietly for his hearing alone.

"Bless you," Kirk answered with heartfelt gratitude and gave her slender shoulder a brief pat. Kirk stopped beside Spock and folded his hands behind his back, while McCoy leaned casually on the rail behind them. If the rest of the bridge crew likened the pair to raptors descending upon prey, none of them would ever dare say so aloud.

Spock adjusted a control on the side of his viewer, and did not look up as he spoke. "I presume the ambassador called to remind you of the timetable set by Starfleet?"

"Oh, yes, he has," Kirk answered with a playful little smile, trading another quick look with McCoy. He rocked forward on his toes to peer into Spock's viewer, catching a glimpse of solar flare readouts before leaning back with a mischievous tilt of his head. "Having fun, Mister Spock?"

Spock inhaled slowly, and adjusted another control before looking up to give his captain a pointedly raised eyebrow. McCoy he ignored.

Kirk held up his hands in surrender and Spock returned to his scanner, instantly engrossed in whatever he was studying. Kirk took hold of McCoy's elbow as he stepped away from the console, and the doctor allowed himself to be steered towards the center of the bridge with a small noise of disappointment.

"Glory hog," McCoy groused as Kirk settled himself in the command chair.

Sulu and Chekov grinned at each other, and the captain pointed at the viewscreen. Both officers quickly turned back to their work, but not before Chekov stole a quick peek at Spock. Kirk wondered if Spock had any idea how fondly the crew viewed the commander when he was this excited. He turned in his chair to look back at his first officer, but if Spock was aware of the general air of good humor on the bridge, he gave no indication.

Johnson appeared with the promised coffee, interrupting any further ideas of tormenting his stoic Vulcan first officer. The pretty brunette returned his smile of thanks before moving off to distribute more cups around the bridge. There wasn't much he could do now but wait for Scotty to finish preparing a shuttle, so he wrapped both hands around the coffee cup and let the warmth wash away what little remained of his irritation.

For one brief moment, Kirk wished that he commanded a lesser vessel than the Enterprise. All the ships of her line took turns patrolling the neutral zones and running inspection tours of top-security facilities, but a Constitution-class starship's primary mission was to explore. Except for the flagship. It was a showy display of grandeur to send the flagship, and they were often pulled away from their exploratory missions to engage in tedious diplomatic events. Far too much of the time for Kirk's taste, his ship was reduced to the status of glorified passenger liner. He was actually grateful for this detour, because it would shorten the time he had to endure the ambassador's company.

Starfleet wasn't giving them much time here, however. They were allotted three days for this mission before they were required to head out to Starbase 11 to pick up Ambassador Coleman and escort him to a coronation. Kirk sipped at his coffee as he scrutinized the world turning slowly on the viewscreen. It was lush, great oceans broken by huge swaths of forests. Its most advanced civilization was confined to a small continent near the southern pole that was comparable to medieval earth. By all accounts, they should never be made aware of the existence of the ship in orbit.

But Veyga was one of those planets where the Prime Directive became a fine line between practicality and hypocrisy.

It happened more often than one might think, and for a variety of reasons. In this case, it was a matter of location. The United Federation of Planets could do little to enforce its ideology on those worlds that had the misfortune of existing too near the border of the Klingon or Romulan empires. The Klingons in particular seemed to relish poking a thorn in the Federation's side by dropping in on border planets and announcing the existence of extraterrestrials. The Organian Peace Treaty prevented an all-out war, but the edge of the neutral zone was constantly in contention and Kirk privately believed that it was a cat and mouse game the Klingons played to amuse themselves.

It frustrated Kirk to no end, for those unfortunate worlds paid the price for interstellar peace.

Kirk sighed at the memory of Organia and Capella IV, and his hand tightened on his coffee cup with regret at the thought of Tyree's peaceful tribe. The simple fact of the matter was that once a world was compromised, Starfleet felt the Prime Directive was flexible enough to offer military protection in exchange for permission to use their world to establish a base. Planets with plant or mineral wealth were often bartered with. The spirit of the Prime Directive was still enforced, but the rules changed; damage was kept to a minimum and technology was concealed as much as possible. Veyga was one such world.

Diplomacy had arrived at an agreement with the Klingons, but first contact had been made. The damage was done, for the news had spread like wildfire across the planet despite their lack of technology. The Klingons had found nothing of value to them here except the planet's strategic location, and had ceded the world to the Federation upon being assured that no outpost would be established. It went without saying, however, that both sides had 'scientific' satellites orbiting the world. And while the unusual radiation of the star made long range communications difficult, there was no doubt whatsoever that the Klingons were aware of the presence of the Enterprise. If confronted, it was doubtful that they would believe their claim to be here for a trade agreement for a rare but fairly useless mineral.

For the Federation was not above making the most of an unfortunate incident to obtain this mineral, relatively common in the upper mantle of Veyga. When oxidized, the mineral produced a chemical that was vital in the manufacture of a pesticide that would prevent a newly settled Andorian colony from suffering famine. Such was the composition of the chemical that it could not be properly synthesized or replicated. There were other worlds available that could provide the compound, but there was some concern that these supplies would be depleted before the plant could be better tailored to its new home. It was not yet an emergency, but Starfleet was a firm believer in prevention and their mission here was to secure a trade agreement.

"Captain," Uhura called, interrupting his musing. She continued when Kirk glanced over his shoulder at her. "Mister Scott says the shuttle is ready, sir."

"Tell him we'll be right there," Kirk said, leaving his half empty coffee cup on the arm of the command chair as he stood and crossed the bridge to rest a hand on the helm. Sulu looked up at him with a resigned expression. "Mister Sulu, you have the con," Kirk said. "You know the drill. If something happens and you feel the Enterprise is in serious trouble, you get my ship out of here. Try to give us some warning, but don't let lack of communication stop you. We'll check in every two hours."

"Yes, sir," Sulu said unhappily, not looking away. He'd been forced to abandon his captain on several occasions, and he detested it.

"Mister Chekov," Spock called, and Kirk looked up as the young navigator instantly gave the Vulcan his full attention. "Please take over the science station and continue the analysis of the spectral variants."

"Aye, sair," Chekov said and swiftly left his seat. He cast a quick glance at the captain, and nearly blushed at the small, indulgent smile he got. It was quite flattering that Spock would entrust no one else to continue the study in his absence. He was peripherally aware of the secondary life sciences crewman sliding into the chair next to Sulu and Uhura murmuring into her mic for a replacement as he came up beside Mister Spock.

The Vulcan pointed at a display. "Pay particular attention to these frequencies."

Chekov nodded curtly. "Aye, aye, sair," he said, and leaned over the viewer the instant Spock had stepped away. The radiation had a peculiar effect on certain energy transmissions. Although the ensign was not quite as fascinated as the Vulcan, he would not shirk his assignment. The mere notion of disappointing Spock in any way was unthinkable.

Kirk joined McCoy in front of the turbolift and watched as Spock removed his tricorder from the small alcove under the science station where he had taken to storing it lately. Kirk sighed, because he knew he was being selfish. He had every confidence in his crew, so he was going to enjoy a breath of fresh air before dealing with Coleman despite the proximity of the Klingon Neutral zone. The Vulcan had long since given up objecting to the captain's preference for leading away teams personally whenever the whim struck him. It was a 'Kirk quirk', as McCoy had once put it.

And even though the first officer should remain in command should the captain deem it necessary to leave the ship (which would, in this instance, also allow him to continue studying the star), Spock had shown a distinct preference towards accompanying him whenever there was even the slightest hint of danger. Kirk knew he shouldn't allow it, but he'd lost track of how many times having the Vulcan at his side had made the difference between the success or failure of a mission. In fact, now that he thought about it, Kirk was pretty sure Spock and McCoy had made some kind of pact to never let the captain off the ship without at least one of them with him.

The thought made him grin suddenly, and Spock raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Captain," Uhura called just as he opened his mouth to make some sort of quip. "A message from Starfleet."

Kirk moved to stand behind her chair as she listened intently, her hands moving over the console in an effort to filter out the distortion. She looked up at him, pressing a delicate hand to the transceiver in her ear. "The Enterprise is ordered to divert to Spacestation K-3, to collect medical supplies and deliver it to an emergency medical ship en rout to Alpha Nimbi. An outbreak of Selrilian influenza. You are instructed to leave an away team here to begin talks."

Kirk did some quick navigational computations, estimating time and distances. He understood, on an intellectual level, that the recent loss of several of the Constitution-class ships in the fleet took time to replace. Starfleet took great pains to conceal the fact, but this left the Enterprise as the sole ship in this part of space that had the speed required. It was inefficient, but the mathematics were clear to the captain that it would be faster to draft his ship as a cargo shuttle rather than delay the slower medical ship by detouring it to the space station. Even so, however, this new turn of events was stretching the Enterprise even farther, and would push the timetable.

"That's a nasty bug, Jim," McCoy said, frowning in concern as he glanced between Kirk and Spock.

"Go with the ship, Bones," Kirk said, knowing his chief medical officer would want to oversee the process – and be available should the Enterprise herself end up joining the medical ship in aiding Nimbi. McCoy was clearly unhappy with this change of plans, but he didn't argue. Kirk looked back at Uhura. "Acknowledge our orders and inform Mister Scott."

She nodded and spoke quietly into her mic.

The captain considered the option of having a security officer join them in McCoy's place. His original intentions had been to bring as few people as possible, just himself, Spock, and McCoy. Not quite regulation, but it had become Kirk's habit when his ship was right in orbit. He glanced at Spock, but his first didn't make any suggestion, so Kirk decided that two people would be less intimidating.

Kirk looked back towards Sulu, and was pleased to see that the helmsman was already pressing controls. "Best speed, Mister Sulu, as soon as we're clear."

"Course plotted and laid in, sir," Sulu answered and looked over his shoulder to give Kirk a wry little smile. "We'll try to make sure we get back in three days."

"I'm sure Ambassador Coleman would appreciate that," Kirk answered, and didn't bother to keep the sour note out of his voice.

McCoy watched as the turbolift swallowed his friends and a foreboding premonition crept up his spine. He wasn't a superstitious man by nature, but it sure did seem like sending those two off by themselves was just tempting Fate. He sighed heavily and waited for the lift to return. He was going to have a very busy few days, and the sooner he got started the better.

Staying busy would help keep him from worrying.

Space... the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise. Its five-year mission: to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before.