Nicole Comtet

2268

1

Shortly after the first watch, Captain Kirk and his senior team sat in the briefing room of the Enterprise, and gave Admiral Komack’s communication their full attention.

"...Therefore, Captain, your present patrol assignment is canceled. You are to proceed immediately to Cygnet Twelve in order to pick up their diplomatic delegation, then proceed to Starbase Eleven where the talks will take place. Commodore Mendez will give you further instructions on your arrival at the starbase. I need not emphasize the importance of this mission. The amount of dilithium on the planet would easily support our plans for starship construction for the next twenty years.

"Suffice it to say that the Federation Council has great hopes of the Cygnetians joining the United Federation of Planets in the not too distant future. Naturally, we will rely on you and your crew to extend to our guests the hospitality traditional in Starfleet, and to be prepared to meet all their requirements and satisfy all their needs."

Here Komack paused significantly then resumed, "Now, it is for evident reasons which I need not explain here that the Enterprise has been assigned this delicate mission, but I want to make it clear that its success rests mostly on you, Captain Kirk, and on your fellow officers. I am sure that you won’t fail us. Good luck! Komack out."

As the admiral’s face disappeared, to be replaced with the Starfleet Command logo, Kirk switched off, clasped his hands on the table, and gave his officers a considered glance.

"And that, gentlemen, is the communiqué we just received on top priority channel. Comments, anyone?"

A grunt was heard from the direction of Chief Engineer Scott. "You would think they had a better use for a starship than as a taxi!"

"I know, Scotty," Kirk replied with a sigh, "but you heard Komack: important mission, V.I.P.’s, et cetera. Yes, Bones?"

"Correct me if I am wrong," said the doctor, "but I thought that Cygnet was already a member of the Federation."

"You mean Cygnet Fourteen, Doctor. This is Cygnet Twelve we are talking about," Commander Spock specified. "There are several class M planets in the Cygnet system."

"Quite, Mister Spock, but let us hope that there is only one inhabited by fun-loving females," the captain wryly remarked. The computer technicians at the space docks above Cygnet XIV had repaired the Enterprise’s computer a year ago. As a joke, they had given the ship’s computer a caricature female personality which had provided some brief amusement but ultimately had proved to be extremely distracting.

A ripple of reminiscent mirth ran around the briefing table, but the first officer was not amused. "Indeed, Captain," the Vulcan gravely said, "but their idea of ‘fun’ evinced a poor sense of responsibility."

"Agreed!" Kirk conceded with a grin. "Fortunately the ship’s essential operations were not affected. But let’s go back to the matter in hand. What information have you got for us, Spock?"

Spock called up the chart of the Cygnet planetary system on the central viewer, and gave them a concise description of Cygnet XII, adding by way of conclusion, "This is all the information that we have to date. The first contacts with Cygnet Twelve have been unsuccessful, and it is only a year ago that they accepted to enter into negotiation with the Federation envoys. Long and laborious discussions have finally led to their application for membership."

"Very good, Mister Spock, but you forget something," Kirk pleasantly remarked.

"Do I, sir?" Spock’s voice expressed polite disbelief.

"Sure. You didn’t specify that the success of the negotiations was mostly due to the diplomatic skills of your father, Ambassador Sarek."

"Is that so?" drawled McCoy, holding Spock in his sharp blue gaze. "Then you must have first hand information on these Cygnetian folks, Spock. Let us hear about it!"

"Sarek is not in the habit of disclosing classified information, Doctor," Spock stated curtly.

"Naturally, and I never said that he did!" McCoy countered testily. "I am not asking for diplomatic secrets, just for some interesting tidbits, some hints that Sarek might have dropped in conversations, if you understand what I mean."

"I do not, Doctor. Sarek does not drop hints." Spock radiated disdainful disapproval.

"No, somehow I don’t think he would," Kirk dryly commented, then summed up the situation. "Well, we have our orders, ladies and gentlemen. I want all departments to be ready for inspection on our arrival at Cygnet Twelve. I want the ship to be spic and span from stem to stern. Let us show these delegates that the Enterprise is Starfleet’s finest."

"That we will, Captain. Never fear!" Scott assured him, a zealous gleam in his eyes.

"Right, Scotty, I’m sure you and your team will do us proud. Now, in regards Komack’s special recommendations, as usual we are ordered to give our guests the best possible impression of Starfleet, which means that we must be prepared to satisfy their demands to the best of our abilities...so long as it does not interfere with the service and the safety of the ship." Then with a significant glance around, he added, "Any inconvenience or personal discomfort notwithstanding."

A murmur of half-hearted assent rose from the senior crew who did not seem overjoyed at the prospect.

"I know it’s a damned nuisance, but it will only last a week," Kirk said.

"Excuse me, sir," the chief of security spoke up, "but I’d like to know exactly where we stand with security. Will they have complete freedom of the ship?"

"Certainly not, Mister Giotto," Kirk firmly replied. "The high security sections are off limits as usual. I repeat: the service and the security of the ship come first, but at the same time, discretion and diplomacy are the key words, Commander."

"Understood, Captain. There should be no problem."

"Good. Any more questions? Mister Sulu?"

"Sir, do you know why the Enterprise has been picked up for this mission? The admiral spoke of obvious reasons..."

"Sorry, Sulu, but I can give you no reasonable answer other than Starfleet recurrent habit of using our ship to ferry shiploads of notables, and you know there’s nothing we can do about it."

"Captain...if I may?" the first officer smoothly intervened.

"Yes, Spock? Have you any ideas on the question?"

"Perhaps I have, sir. I believe there is a great probability for the Cygnetian delegation to be exclusively female."

A movement of interest met this revelation, but Kirk looked dubious. "Well, assuming this is not pure speculation—and no offense meant, Spock—I still don’t get your point."

"Sir," Spock carefully explained, "it is logical to surmise that Admiral Komack has arranged to transfer the female diplomats on the Enterprise because you are the captain, and also in view of past experiences."

A moment of silence followed while the implication gradually sank in. Kirk, quite conscious of the discreet grins spreading on his subordinates’ faces, tried his best glare. "‘Logical,’ you say?" he repeated, pretending umbrage.

"Yes, Captain." Spock stuck to his guns.

"Do you mean to say that my ship is to be saddled with female V.I.P.’s because of me, personally?"

"I believe that is what I said, Captain." Spock looked his most innocent.

A few seconds passed as the two officers held each other’s eyes in silence. Kirk’s hazel eyes, responding to the gleam lurking in the Vulcan’s gaze, crinkled in a smile as he declared, "Well, all I can say is that you have a damned peculiar opinion of your captain, Mister!"

"You know he’s right, Jim," McCoy said over the laughter. "Komack is no fool and, given your reputation, it’s no wonder if he is entrusting the Cygnetians to your tender care!"

"To our tender care, yours included, Bones. Don’t forget we’re all in the same boat. Still, a female delegation does sound interesting, assuming, of course, that Spock’s conjecture proves to be correct."

"Yeah, what makes you say that the delegation will probably be women, Spock?" the doctor asked.

"Simple deduction, Doctor. Cygnet Twelve, although technologically advanced, is an extremely matriarchal society. The power lies in the hands of a ruling caste, the female Warriors, comparable to the legendary Amazons. All offices of authority belong to women exclusively, so it stands to reason to expect female diplomats to attend negotiations on which depends the future of their planet."

"Excuse me, Mister Spock," Chief Engineer Scott leaned forward. "But where did you get all that information? Not in the computer’s banks, was it?"

Spock, face inscrutable, remained silent.

"Was it from Sarek?" the captain inquired.

"No, sir. With your permission, I would rather not reveal my sources," Spock replied, his gaze meeting that of Kirk.

The look which passed between them was brief but sufficient for the latter to concede. "All right, Spock. I won’t press you. I expect your sources are reliable?"

"Perfectly, Captain," Spock briefly said.

A pause followed, then McCoy, with a curious glance at his friends, declared, "Damned mysterious, aren’t you, Spock? But perhaps you can tell us about the men? What is their status on Cygnet Twelve?"

"They belong to the lower Labor caste and have no say in the ruling of the planet."

"Why this sounds pretty damn barbaric to me," muttered Chief Giotto. "Are they slaves or something like that?"

Uhura sat up with interest at the question.

"So far as we know, Mister Giotto, slavery does not exist on Cygnet Twelve," the Vulcan replied, "but the fact is that subordinate works and menial tasks are reserved to the males...which does not necessarily makes that society more ‘barbaric’ than the male-dominated society of your planet’s past, when the situation of Terran women was no better than the Cygnetian males’ present one. It’s all a matter of perspective, Mister Giotto."

"Yeah, but I can’t believe the Federation would allow a planet that uses a sex-based caste system to join."

"The planet must have a lot of dilithium," Sulu concluded.

"Good points, gentlemen. However, let’s keep our minds open," Kirk said with a glance at the security chief who looked only half-convinced.

"Of course, Captain," responded Spock.

"Yes, sir," responded Giotto.

"But, Captain, are we going to yield to these diplomats on just about all their demands?" Sulu asked plaintively.

"Don’t worry, Lieutenant. The day when I shall let anyone dictate to me or my crew on my ship is yet to come," Kirk solemnly promised.

"Hear! Hear!" Montgomery Scott loudly agreed setting off a round of chuckling.

Spock broke in, "I am afraid that you’re laboring under a misapprehension."

The command crew all looked at him.

"According to my...informant, the Cygnetians are not the viragos that you seem to imagine. On the contrary, they are a handsome, intelligent race, physically and intellectually superior to many species known in the galaxy."

"What! Even superior to the Vulcans?" McCoy’s sarcasm was ignored.

"No, Doctor," Spock aloofly replied. "The Cygnetians are unfortunately afflicted with a regrettable flaw."

"A flaw? What kind of flaw?" McCoy wanted to know.

A shadow of distaste crossed the Vulcan’s face. "They are inclined to be highly emotional," he stated.

The room dissolved into laughter.

"Well," Kirk chuckled. "That at least is something we’ll have in common with them. All right," he went on, rising to his feet. "That’s all for now. You have your instructions, ladies and gentlemen. Dismissed."

As the officers dispersed, the doctor took the Vulcan aside. "All right, Spock, off the record. That informant of yours...huh? I’ll bet I know who she is!" His blue eyes challenged the dark ones and caught a flicker of amusement in their depths.

But Spock was not to be drawn in to the fray. "No comment, Doctor," he coolly replied, and strode away.

The Vulcan caught up with Kirk in the turbolift. As they were speeding up to the bridge, he felt the captain’s quizzical gaze upon him.

Kirk said with approval, "Your informant was most helpful."

"Thank you, Captain."

"By the way, how is the lady Amanda?" he inquired casually, his twinkling eyes telling that he had not been fooled one little bit by Spock’s discretion.

"She was quite well when I last heard from her," the Vulcan told him deadpan.

Kirk gave him a knowing look. "Ah...your mysterious informant, isn’t she? Come on, your little secret is safe with me, you know!"

"It is not much of a secret...not to the good doctor, anyway," Spock admitted.

"Oh? So our astute McCoy has guessed, too? Not that it was so difficult for someone acquainted with your parents. Who else, besides Sarek and his aides, could come by that inside knowledge but the person always by his side? Your mother, Spock."

The Vulcan let the ghost of a smile surface in his eyes. "Sound reasoning, Captain," he commended.

"Simple deduction, my friend. But, tell me," Kirk turned the control, bringing the lift to a stop. "How did your mother cope with these formidable female warriors?"

"Very well. Actually better than Sarek."

"Logical. As a woman, she was an equal in their society," Kirk commented.

"Indeed. She even became a celebrity at the court and was honored with the Cygnetian equivalent of Knighthood, after a slight disagreement—due to some cultural misunderstanding—had been satisfactorily settled."

"Really? Congratulations! But what was the disagreement about, do you know?"

"It seems," Spock began, looking embarrassed, "that several ladies of the Queen’s entourage expressed close interest on Sarek, and were displeased when he declined their...offers, and when my mother strongly objected."

"You mean...they had, er, designs on the Ambassador?"

Spock nodded.

"I can’t believe it!" Kirk seemed to be torn between shock and hilarity.

"True, nevertheless. According to my mother, the Cygnetian males are not only treated like second rate citizens, but are also considered like some kind of interchangeable commodities to be claimed, swapped or discarded at will. Naturally, the Lady Amanda did not share these views and asserted her exclusive rights on my father in no uncertain terms."

"Good for her!" Kirk cheered.

"Curiously, her determination won her the approval and support of the Queen, and consequently the honorific distinction."

Kirk deduced, "The way your mother impressed these women must have contributed to the success of Sarek’s mission."

"Possibly," Spock admitted.

Kirk put the lift on the move again. "All the same, I’d’ve given a lot to have seen the reaction of Sarek!" He chuckled, then sobered down in view of a disapproving eyebrow. "I know, Spock. It’s a damned awkward situation for an ambassador on a diplomatic mission to be propositioned by ladies of the receiving planet. Come to think of it, I wonder if we should not warn all male personnel of the, er, potential risks?"

Spock cocked a mocking eyebrow. "I should not worry if I were you, Captain. Given the vast experience that Humans generally have in sexual matters, I have no doubt that the crew will be well capable of coping with any such situation."

Kirk regarded him with a suspicious eye. "Should I take that as an insult or a compliment, Mister Spock?"

"As you like it, Captain," Spock blandly replied.

2

Two days later, the Enterprise was orbiting planet Cygnet XII, and the captain was champing at his bit. His restlessness was manifested by the nervous tattoo that his fingers drummed on the arm of the command chair.

His patience, obviously, was running thin, but he had some excuse for they had been parked in orbit for the best part of the day, waiting for the good will of the diplomats. The ship had arrived right on schedule, and the first contact with Cygnet XII had been short but courteous. After an exchange of greetings, they had been required to stand by...and standing by they were, to the growing irritation of the captain and the weariness of the crew, chief science officer excepted. Actually Spock, bent over his viewer, was having a field day, stocking up the ship computer with precious data picked up by his sensors of the white and green planet revolving down below. Thus, as he pointed out to Kirk, their time would not be entirely wasted.

The captain, however, was willing to be kept waiting only up to a certain point. With a muttered oath, he flipped the intercom switch and called the transporter room. "Any progress yet?" he snapped.

"No, Captain, nothing!" Lieutenant Commander Scott sounded flustered. "Who do they think they are, keeping a Federation starship hanging around while they finish packing? I have a good mind to...ah, at last! We just received the coordinates, and about time!"

While Scott prepared to beam up the Cygnetians’ baggage, his running commentaries came through the comlink. "Easy now, lads. Their ladyships wouldn’t be best pleased if...Great Scott!" A gasp...then, silence.

A silence so disturbing that the bridge crew looked round at the captain who, suddenly tense, called sharply, "Mister Scott! Report! What is it? What happened?"

A few expletives were muttered in Gaelic, then... "The luggage, Captain. A mountain of luggage! I’ve never seen anything like it. Had I been warned, I’d’ve used the cargo transporter. And there are four burly baggage handlers, too! How they managed to squeeze in is anyone’s guess! Hello! Welcome aboard... Huh? Just a moment. Borgas frat! Activating translator now."

Chief Engineer Scott was heard fretting, and the captain was shaking his head when a familiar voice quietly in his ear asked, "Captain?"

"Yes, Mister Spock?" he looked up at his first officer standing at his side.

"Perhaps I could be of assistance?" the Vulcan delicately suggested.

"Scotty will be glad of your help; he’s not exactly an expert at diplomacy."

Spock nodded and left, and Kirk looked up at Uhura. "Lieutenant," he said, "tell maintenance to send a dozen more antigrav sleds to the main transporter room, will you? They might come in handy." Then, as Uhura passed on the order, he sat back and mused, "Piles of luggage? What for, I wonder?"

*****

Moments later, Spock was back on the bridge and greeted with a "Well, Mister Spock, how are things down there?" from Kirk.

"Well on the way to be settled to satisfaction, Captain," reported the Vulcan. "One more Cygnetian has beamed up with some light luggage, which brings the staff to five male attendants all told. For convenience, I assigned them to the spare cabins on the V.I.P. wing on Deck Five, and had some crewmen help them transport and unpack the trunks they required for the voyage. The rest is to be stored in the cargo hold. I hope these arrangements meet with your approval, sir?"

"Quite, Spock," Kirk agreed, "a good thing that’s settled. But what about the delegation? What are they waiting for?"

Spock assumed his inimitable air of supercilious tolerance. "The ladies are waiting for their quarters to be readied to their satisfaction. Apparently they are very...particular, and they will not beam up until their attendants have everything unpacked and nicely laid out."

"But that may take hours!" Kirk exclaimed in irritation.

"It will take a certain time, although the bayle struck me as an efficient man who has his team well in hand," Spock conceded.

"Damn!" Kirk swore under his breath. "That’s all we needed. A delay won’t set too well with Starfleet Command. But what did you say? The bayle?"

"Yes, sir, the chief attendant who turned out to be quite informative. For instance, he told me—"

But McCoy chose that moment to disembark the turbolift. "Jim, what’s this I hear about tons of luggage being beamed aboard?" he asked eagerly.

"News travel fast, I can see," the captain remarked dryly.

"Sure it does; it’s all over the ship by now," McCoy grinned unabashedly, and came down to stand at Kirk left side. "And these Cygnetians? What do they look like?"

"Don’t ask me, Bones! Ask our expert here. He’s just met them," Kirk said with a nod at Spock.

"I beg your pardon, Captain. I have only seen five male Cygnetians," the Vulcan specified, "and I had more pressing business to do than to pay much attention to their physical appearance."

"Come off it, Spock!" the doctor protested.

"Please, Mister Spock," Uhura begged, supported by the whole bridge crew.

Hands clasped behind his back, Spock drew himself up. "I cannot see the logic in describing a species that you will have ample opportunity to study during the voyage; However, if only to satisfy your curiosity, Lieutenant, I suppose that, as a Human, you may find them aesthetically pleasing."

"Now, that’s interesting. And, do you, Mister Spock?" she asked, her dark eyes dancing.

"His Human half probably does, Uhura," McCoy put in slyly.

It was a remark which Spock chose to ignore as he turned to Kirk and primly said, "Excuse me, Captain, but I was about to convey some information which you ought to know when we were interrupted."

"That’s right, something that the bayle told you, wasn’t it?"

"Yes, sir. He gave me a brief outline of the delegates’ social position, their ranks, titles and functions. I believe it is more important than their external appearance, sir."

"Right as always, Mister Spock. Go ahead," Kirk prompted.

"First of all," Spock began, adopting his lecturing stance, "is the Ambassador, head of the delegation, who ranks among the high dignitaries of the planet, being one of the Queen’s private councilors."

The captain was impressed. "Looks like we’ll be moving in the high circles. That explains Komack’s special recommendations, I suppose. And what is the lady’s name, Spock?"

"She is Ambassador Adekunda Tahjeh Dah Tecumseh," Spock announced.

Eyes widened all around, and McCoy snorted, "Say that again?"

"Ambassador Adekunda Tahjeh Dah Tecumseh," Spock obliged then continued imperturbably, "The lady next in rank is right in your field, Doctor. Councilor Tanlila Pendalila Jeh Dahseh, a healer of repute and a relative to the Ambassador. As for the other three women, they function as aides, secretaries, bodyguards, et cetera. First comes Jabakim Perdita Dah Tibiliseh, next First Secretary Dorali Mendali Jumseh, and lastly, First Warrior Vanijeh Dah."

"Jabakim? What’s that?" asked McCoy.

"A rank within the Warrior caste, Doctor. Somewhat akin to the rank of Colonel in the Starfleet Marines. She is aide de camp to the Ambassador. Her full name and title are Jabakim Perdita Dah Tibiliseh."

"Whoa there, Spock!" McCoy broke in. "What’s the use of reeling off names that we’ll never remember anyway?"

"Speak for yourself, Doctor!" Uhura protested.

"Sorry, my dear, but you have to be a Vulcan or a communication officer to memorize all that. I know I can’t!"

"Never mind, Doctor McCoy," said Kirk. "Their titles will have to do for a start."

"Captain!" Uhura, hand on her ear piece, exclaimed, "A call from the planet, sir. The delegation is now ready to beam up."

"That’s it, gentlemen!" Kirk slapped the armrest of his chair and stood up. "Uhura, call Sickbay and Security, will you? Mister Sulu, as soon as the delegates are aboard, proceed at Warp Factor Four on course for Starbase Eleven. Mister Spock, you have the conn...oh, and Bones, I don’t want to see you anywhere near the transporter, understood?"

A chorus of "Aye, sir" answered him.

"Ladies, shall we go and welcome our guests?" he jovially said, and gathering Lieutenants Rhada and Uhura in tow, Kirk marched to the turbolift.

As the first officer took place in the command chair, Doctor McCoy leaned on the railing behind him and remarked, "Ladies first, huh? Looks like we’re going to have to stay on the sidelines."

"No discrimination involved here, Doctor," Spock said patiently. "Only the captain’s wise decision to spare the diplomats the shock of male predominance at their first meeting. Facts, when unexpected and unpleasant, are better accepted if disclosed incrementally. You, Doctor, as a professed psychologist, ought to know this elementary principle."

"And what, may I ask, do you know of Cygnetian psychology?" demanded McCoy. "Better mind your hardware gadgets, and leave psychology to experts, Mister Spock!"

"Doctor, let me point out that..."

And, much to their shipmates’ amusement, the Enterprise first officer and chief medical officer embarked on one of their favorite sparring sessions.

*****

Meanwhile, Captain Kirk and his female officers had arrived at the transporter room. As he strode in, Kirk noted with satisfaction that Security Chief Giotto had followed his orders to the letter and detailed for the guard of honor the six female officers of his squad, led by Lieutenant Anne Nored, Assistant Chief of Security.

At the captain’s entrance, all six snapped to attention. "As you were," he told them with a nod of approval, then he smiled at Chief Nurse Christine Chapel and Chief Psychologist Helen Noel whose blue tunics contrasted with the reds and blacks of Security.

"Good! I think we are about ready," he said. "Mister Kyle, have you checked the coordinates?"

"Aye, sir. Everything is in order, just waiting for the word," replied the transporter chief who looked outnumbered in this feminine gathering.

"Stations, please!" ordered Kirk. The six guards lined on each side of transporter stage while the four officers moved into position on either side of the captain. "Energize!"

As the whine of the mechanism decreased, six pillars of energy slowly took shape and materialized into five feminine figures in full warrior array...plus a magnificent snow-white feline held in leash. The sight was so spectacular, so exotic that the Enterprise team just stood and stared, barely conscious of being stared at in return.

Finally a "Good Lord!" breathed by Kirk snapped Uhura out of her daze, and remembering her role, she stepped forward and bowed gracefully.

"Madame Ambassador, ladies, welcome aboard. I am Lieutenant Penda Nyota Uhura, Chief Communications Officer. May I have the honor of introducing James T. Kirk, Captain of the United Starship Enterprise?"

In silence, the beauties and the beast stepped down the platform. One woman, whose rich attire and unmistakable air of authority marked as their superior, approached and inclined her head.

"Your welcome is appreciated, Lieutenant Uhura," her voice, a rich contralto, was pleasant to the ear. "But, I don’t understand..." She stared at Kirk in perplexity. "A Human male is the captain of the Enterprise, Starfleet’s flagship? Unbelievable!"

Her eyes were cold, her tone disdainful. Kirk, self-consciously aware of her detached inspection, decided that it was time to unleash the charm. Flashing one of his dazzling smiles, he bowed and said, "Yes, Ambassador. I see that this comes as a surprise to you, but you will find it common occurrence in Starfleet. Here, on my ship, men and women serve together, as you will see by yourself when I shall, at your convenience, take you on a tour of the Enterprise, Madame. In the meantime, may I have the pleasure of presenting my officers?"

"You may," she assented with condescension and turned her attention back to the young women.

Kirk took advantage of the introductions to give his guests a discreet once-over, and what he saw confirmed his first impression.

These beautiful creatures were tall, fair-headed women whose pale complexion would allow them to pass for Scandinavian beauties, except for their strange almond-shaped eyes ranging from the palest of lavender to the deepest of violet, and for the small tattoo mark that each one bore on her brow.

The Ambassador looked simply stunning. The warrior trappings that she wore with great distinction, chain mail tabard, light helmet of burnished steel chiseled with gold, black leather breeches and boots, flattered her figure and made her white skin look almost translucent. The captain wondered what she might look like in a more feminine attire and could not help but hope that his curiosity be soon satisfied.

Each officer was duly introduced and subjected to the appraising scrutiny of a pair of lilac eyes, but when Chief Kyle’s turn came, he was spared only the most cursory glance as if such a nonentity was not worth of the lady’s attention.

"I must point out, Madame," said Kirk, "that most of my senior officers are currently on duty, but you will meet them tonight at dinner if you will give us the pleasure of your company?"

"Thank you, we will," she regally replied. Turning to her party, she said, "This is my staff, Captain. Councilor Jeh Dahseh," she indicated a handsome silver-headed woman wrapped in a fur cloak, "Jabakim Dah Tibiliseh, and my aides," she concluded with a nod toward the three younger women, resplendent in their shining armors. "Now, Captain, if convenient, I wish to retire to my quarters. I trust that my luggage and my servants are on board?"

Uhura then intervened. "They are in your suite, Madame. Shall I show you the way?"

"By all means," the Cygnetian said with authority and made for the door. Then she paused and looked back at Kirk. "Captain, I hope you have no objection to my pet on your ship. She never leaves my side."

Kirk eyed the animal dubiously. "Not at all, so long as she behaves herself. She’s beautiful...what is she?"

"A tungah, one of our finest predators," the lady replied, stroking the soft white pelt. "She is quite tame, but she can become fierce occasionally."

And on these parting words, the Ambassador marched out followed by her staff and the Enterprise officers. The captain and transporter chief were left looking at each other in perplexity.

"Opinion, Mister Kyle?" Kirk asked with a wry smile.

"Well, sir, since you ask me, I should say that the ladies have a poor opinion of men."

"They certainly do. That’s a characteristic of their culture, I understand. But, tell you what, Lieutenant!" A wicked smile dawned on Kirk’s face. "I bet you that before this mission’s over, we’ll make them change their minds!"

Kyle’s long face split in a delighted grin, but his "Aye, sir" was lost as the door closed behind the captain.

3

That evening, the officers’ lounge was ablaze with dress uniforms and astir with curiosity. Rumors had traveled at warp speed since the diplomats’ arrival, and now the crewmembers who had welcomed them aboard were besieged by their shipmates and plied with questions.

Doctor McCoy, standing glass in hand by the bar in Lieutenant Commander Scott’s company, observed all the excitement with amusement. Among the ranking officers present, men and women numbered about even, but Kirk had not yet arrived, and Spock was nowhere to be seen.

The doctor asked for a refill and remarked, "I have seldom seen such an effervescence over a diplomatic delegation. I wonder what makes those Cygnetians so special. Any idea, Scotty? You were the first to meet them."

"Well, I saw the men, all right; good-looking, strapping fellows no doubt, but..." Scott’s voice trailed off. "I heard the women are something else, according to Kyle."

"Yeah, they must be," McCoy nodded, "even Chapel was impressed. ‘Just wait and see,’ she said. Well, here we are, waiting and speculating...Ah! here’s Jim at last."

The captain, sporting the whole batch of decorations on his dress jacket, had just arrived, and was giving the company that sharp-eyed look which missed nothing. He caught McCoy’s eye and made his way to the bar.

"Well, Jim," the chief medical officer greeted him, "here we all are, in full dress uniform, per your orders, but where are the ladies?"

"They should be here any minute now. Lieutenant Uhura and Nurse Chapel just went to fetch them. This before-dinner gathering is Uhura’s idea, you know. A drink and a chat to break the ice and get acquainted."

"A bonny idea!" the chief engineer declared. "Nothing like a wee dram or two to break the ice and help make new friends. But, Captain, between you and me and Leonard here, tell us about the Cygnetian ladies."

"Patience, Scotty. Just wait and see," Kirk teased.

"Are they...in Spock’s parlance, aesthetically pleasing?"McCoy asked.

"That, Bones, was the understatement of the decade!" Kirk grinned.

"Really? Well, you should know; you are the expert in that matter," McCoy grinned back. "But where is Spock? Isn’t he coming?"

"Mister Spock, pressed by some urgent duty, has requested permission to be exempted of —I quote —‘the pre-dinner drinking session.’ Permission granted, of course," Kirk announced.

The information drew a tolerant chuckle from his companions.

"So," McCoy noted sarcastically, "our Vulcan has once again managed to talk himself out of his social duties. You are much too easy-going with him, Captain; you have him spoiled!"

Kirk had hardly found a suitable retort when conversations and laughter petered out and a hush fell over the assembly. All the heads turned to the door where Lieutenant Uhura and Christine Chapel were ushering in the Cygnetians, five statuesque beauties whose attires and makeups were examples of elegance and glamour.

The Cygnetians, having discarded their warlike panoply, now stood revealed in all their feminine appeal enhanced by the colors of their evening dresses and by the extravagance of their hairstyles. Past the first shock of surprise, the company began to react.

"Would you believe it!" came from McCoy.

"Good Heavens! Are they real?" asked the engineer in awe.

"Want to make sure?" Kirk asked, enjoying his friends’ reaction. "Come on, gentlemen. Stop gawking and make your bow to the ladies," and the captain opened a way through the throng.

Uhura, who was making introductions, broke off at their sight. "Oops! Sorry, Captain," she said. "Perhaps you would rather..."

"Not at all, Lieutenant; you’re doing fine. Carry on; this is your show." He turned to the Ambassador. "Madame, we are honored," Kirk went on, unable to hide his admiration. Indeed, Ambassador Dah Tecumseh was a sight to behold with her pearly face framed by glossy coppery plaits and with her figure sheathed in a gold and mauve outfit, a clinging affair which left little to the imagination.

The woman inclined her head loftily. "Captain!" she acknowledged, then she turned her violet gaze to his companions.

"My senior officers," he said. "Our chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, and Doctor Leonard McCoy, the ship’s chief surgeon. I’m sure," he added pleasantly, "that Healer Jeh Dahseh and Doctor McCoy will find that they have much in common."

The lady in question, supremely elegant in a silver and cobalt blue gown, spared McCoy a disdainful glance. "I doubt it, Captain Kirk," she coolly said. "Men are notoriously incapable of comprehending the most basic of concepts, let alone acquiring the specific knowledge required for practicing medicine. Moreover, the mere idea of entrusting the art of healing to inferiors is preposterous!"

A deafening silence descended on the lounge. Uhura bit her lip in vexation; a flush of indignation rose up to Chapel’s face.

All attention now turned to the doctor whose quick temper and sharp tongue had earned him quite a reputation in Starfleet. For a brief moment, McCoy stood stock still, his blue eyes holding the councilor’s in a piercing glare. Then he struck a pose, folding his arms with slow deliberation. He chuckled, but it sounded more like one of derision than of mirth. "My, my! So much prejudice, so much ignorance to be found in such a lovely lady...what a pity!" he drawled. "So, according to you, Madame, we men are but inferior creatures too dumb and stupid to understand anything about medical matters? Wrong, my dear, completely, utterly wrong, and I shall prove it to you!"

Then, dropping his sarcastic tone, McCoy favored her with one of his irresistible smiles. "Come, let talk about it over a drink!"’

The Cygnetian healer, obviously disconcerted, blinked, hesitated, then, yielding to his southern charm, let the doctor escort her to the bar.

At once conversations resumed as if nothing untoward had happened. Captain Kirk turned to survey his officers with a smile, obviously pleased with McCoy’s handling of what could have been an unpleasant incident. Nurse Chapel and Lieutenant Uhura nodded and, seeing the rest of the Cygnetian delegation standing transfixed in shock, exchanged a glance. Taking them under their wings, they chose to leave the Ambassador to the captain’s care.

Appreciative of their maneuver, Kirk looked at the diplomat with a half-apologetic, half-mischievous smile. "Shall we forget this incident, Madame?" he suggested. "You see, your Councilor is perfectly safe with McCoy. As we say on my planet, "His bark is worse than his bite,’ and it looks to me that they’re now getting along fine."

She glanced at the two doctors who were sitting deep in conversation in a quiet corner of the room, then looked back at Kirk somewhat quizzically. "I am not in the least concerned, Captain. My cousin is well able to take care of herself."

"So I noticed." There was irony in the captain’s voice. "Our good doctor seems to have found his match with Healer Dahseh. But, what about a drink, Ambassador? Shall we sit down?"

They had hardly taken place by one of the large viewing ports that a young crewman turned up. "Your orders, Captain?" he briskly asked.

"Ah, Jenkins. Well, Ambassador? Would you prefer soft drinks perhaps...or cocktails?" Kirk looked inquiringly at his guest. "Unless, of course, something more potent would be more to your liking, Madame?"

"Certainly. Romulan ale for me, please," she requested.

Jenkins looked uncertainly at the captain who, having in mind Admiral Komack’s recommendations, cleared his throat and said diffidently, "Actually, Madame, Romulan ale is illegal on board Federation starships, but I believe that we can make an exception for you." Motioning the crewman closer, Kirk whispered a few words which sent the young man hurrying away. Looking conspiratorially around, he lowered his voice. "Between you and me, Ambassador, we keep a stock of Romulan ale locked up in a private hold. The advantage of patrolling the Neutral Zone and visiting isolated outposts. I hope I can rely on your discretion?" he added, a twinkle in his eyes.

The lady stared at him...then burst out laughing. The effect was, to say the least, startling. Gone was the proud patrician dripping contempt on what she considered as subalterns; instead, Kirk was discovering a charming, radiant woman whose lilac eyes danced with humor.

"Do not worry, Captain; your guilty secret is safe with me," she said at last. "I won’t breath a word about your illicit dealings. On one condition, however," she paused and eyed him with mischief, "that you keep me and my staff supplied with Romulan ale for the duration of the trip. A fair deal, don’t you agree?"

It was his turn to break into laughter. "All right. It’s a deal. But in return, you will do me the favor of tasting our Terran wines and spirits. On the matter of drinks, we can easily compete with the Romulans. Don’t you agree?"

"Agreed," she nodded, and picked up the tall crystal glass set by her side by Jenkins. The ensign was about to withdraw with the bottle of ale when Kirk caught the lady’s eye.

"That’ll do, Jenkins. Just leave it here."

Jenkins, red in the face, departed. "Yes, sir."

The captain, raising his glass to his guest, flashed at point blank the devastating Kirk-ian smile.

Surprisingly, she smiled back, a smile seductive enough to take his breath away and raise his blood pressure. Then, sipping her blue drink, she regarded him with quickened interest. "You are a surprising man, Captain," she calmly stated.

Under her keen scrutiny, Kirk suddenly had the uncomfortable feeling of being an open book to the beautiful ambassador. "In what way?" he asked warily.

The Ambassador tilted her head, eyeing him appraisingly. "Apparently, you are a man of character, of authority, with a degree of understanding appropriate to your position. Added to that a pleasant physical appearance," she coolly enumerated. "Tell me, are the males of your species like you, or are you an exception?"

Kirk covered his confusion with laughter. For all his vast experience with females, he was at a loss what to say. He felt a bit miffed by her blunt appraisal, but also strongly attracted to her strange beauty. Much as he liked to impress her, he could not possibly say that yes, he was an exception, that he was the one and only James T. Kirk of galactic fame. It would sound utterly ridiculous, and the lady was no fool, obviously.

And so, after refilling their glasses, he opted for candor. "No, Ambassador, I’m no exception, nor are my officers. We’re all typical Starfleet personnel. Starfleet requires the best and the brightest. We have to excel in various disciplines, to submit to the most arduous training in order to qualify for deep space assignment. But I like to think that the Enterprise crew is the best in Starfleet, and I am proud to be their captain. Does that answer your question?"

"In a way, yes," she said thoughtfully. "I can see that if you demand much from your crew, you take pride in their achievements, as I do with my subordinates. We seem to have that much in common, Captain."

Kirk beamed. The lady’s response was unexpected."In that case, perhaps we should try and find out what more we have in common."

"Perhaps...it might be interesting," she replied with an enigmatic smile which left him in suspense. "There is, however, an important question which may remain a subject of contention, Captain. The principle of equal rights for females and male—which is, as I understand it, the rule in your Federation— is unacceptable on Cygnet Twelve."

"Yes, so I heard." Kirk nodded. "But don’t you think that your people may have too strong a view on that matter? With time, things change. Look around. Your assistants find it quite acceptable to socialize with my officers, males and females."

She followed his gaze and glanced around the lounge. He was right. To judge from the merry mood of the party, the ice was definitely broken. Chief Engineer Scott was even trying to convince Dah Tibiliseh of the superiority of pure malt over Mister Sulu’s sake, and apparently, the Jabakim was quite willing to try them both. The Ambassador shrugged. "Yes, Captain, but you must realize that my aides are willing to fraternize with your male officers because they are aliens, not Cygnetians."

"But, what difference does that make?"

"It makes all the difference!" she sharply replied. "On my planet, men and women are never seen intermixing in public. Our society would collapse if males were granted the same status, the same rights as females. We would revert to the state of the anarchy, the utter and complete chaos and barbarism that took us, females, centuries to emerge from. We cannot take the risk of giving the men the least bit of authority, Captain. That is unthinkable."

Kirk argued, "People have been known to evolve, to improve. Could your male population not be given a chance?"

"To imagine that Cygnetian males could change for the better is but a delusion, as we have learned to our cost. You cannot understand, Captain. I tell you it is downright impossible!" she stated with clipped finality.

But Kirk, never one to give up, remarked. "With all due respect, Ambassador, I have heard that one before, and yet I have seen events deemed ‘impossible’ happen too often to set much store by that argument. That’s not to say that I don’t understand how you feel about it, but, to quote the most brilliant man I know, ‘There are always possibilities.’"

The Cygnetian ambassador looked skeptical. "A daring concept," she said with a curl of the lips as she set her empty glass down on the side table. "But can it stand up to facts? I doubt it. But, I am curious...who is that brilliant man you refer too, Captain?"

"My first officer."

"Really? Well, if your first officer believes that his fine theory can apply to Cygnet Twelve, he is a fool or he knows nothing of my world," Dah Tecumseh flatly declared.

"He is neither, Madame. What’s more, he happens to be our resident expert on your planet."

As Kirk anticipated, that caught all her attention. "An expert on Cygnet Twelve? That I would like to see. Why haven’t you introduced him to me?" she asked peremptorily.

"Because he hasn’t arrived, yet. His duties have kept him longer than expected in our laboratories," Kirk glibly explained. "Actually, besides my second-in-command, he’s the chief science officer of the ship, and has won himself a wide reputation in scientific spheres." Though casually mentioned, the captain was not displeased to see the supercilious woman look suitably impressed. "Anyway, he’ll be joining us for dinner and should be along any moment now."

Just as Kirk was speaking, the door slid open, and Spock, as neat as a new pin in his dress uniform, came in quietly and took his usual stand just inside the door, to silently survey the assembly.

"Ah...here he is." Kirk beckoned to his friend.

"The Vulcan? Your first officer?" Dah Tecumseh gasped in surprise.

"Yes...I hope you don’t object to Vulcans?"

"Object, Captain? No...on the contrary," she softly said, and the tone of her voice, the light in her eyes were so revealing that Kirk felt a sudden and unexpected pang of jealousy. Damn! He had spent the last half-hour trying to win the lady’s good graces, and progressed nicely, and Spock had but to show the tip of a pointed ear for those efforts to come to nil. Damn it! It was so unfair. First Sarek, and now Spock? Unbelievable. Now all five Cygnetians had spotted the Vulcan and were following him with their eyes as he crossed the room...and of course Spock, bless him, was totally unaware of their fascination.

"I should have known," the Ambassador was now saying. "Only a Vulcan could fit in your description, Captain. But I don’t understand your Starfleet; surely this Vulcan should command a starship."

"Mister Spock has always declined the command of a ship," Kirk told her. "He’s a scientist first and foremost and isn’t interested in command. But that doesn’t prevent him from being an excellent first officer, which is inestimable for a starship captain."

"Indeed. You must hold yourself fortunate to have such a superior being as your second-in-command," remarked the Cygnetian.

"I certainly do, all the more since he’s also a close friend on whom I can rely in all circumstances."

"Then you are blessed by the Goddesses, Captain," she said with a wistful expression on her face, "for the friendship of a Vulcan is a rare privilege."

"I am well aware of that, Madame," Kirk soberly replied. Seeing Spock surrounded by the fascinated Cygnetians, he wryly remarked, "At any rate, he seems to be successful with your delegation."

"Naturally! We find the Vulcans so attractive...don’t you?"

Kirk could not help laughing. "Well, it’s hardly for me to say, Madame."

"True," she conceded, "You are but a man, you cannot appreciate the physical appeal of the Vulcans," her voice was rich with ironic commiseration.

Anyway, the Ambassador was to experience the Vulcan’s ‘physical appeal’ at close range for Spock, having managed to extricate himself from the females’ attention, finally made his way to where the Ambassador and his captain were seated. "You wished to see me, Captain?" he said with proper formality.

"Yes, Mister Spock," Kirk said with more ease than he felt. "You haven’t yet been introduced to our eminent guest. Ambassador, this is Commander Spock, my first officer."

Spock made a slight bow. "Ambassador," he said.

The woman’s lilac eyes ran him up and down with an appraising gaze, and she graciously said, "Commander, I am pleased to find a Vulcan among the command crew of the Enterprise. Your captain tells me that you are an expert on Cygnetian matters. Why is that?"

Was there a silent reproach in the swift glance that Spock directed at his captain? Kirk wondered, but he noticed a curious restraint in Spock’s demeanor as he replied, "Hardly an expert, Madame. The information furnished by surveys and reports is unfortunately limited."

"Indeed? Ah pity..." Her voice was soft and husky as she gazed up at the Vulcan. She smiled. "But there is a simple way to remedy to this situation, Mister Spock. If you so wish, I have but a word to say and my assistants will give your technicians the necessary data, on condition of reciprocity, naturally. For my part, I shall be happy to personally instruct you in the ways and customs of my people. I believe you will find them interesting."

Her gaze, her purring voice were suggestive enough to quicken the pulse of the captain, but Spock remained impassible, hands firmly clasped behind his back in his most austere Vulcan posture. "An exchange of data," he finally answered, "would be quite acceptable, Ambassador, if Captain Kirk has no objection."

Kirk smiled inwardly. Trust Spock to keep the conversation strictly on a professional level. Now it was up to him to back up his very proper first officer. "No objection at all," he said heartily. "On the contrary, this exchange would be profitable for all concerned. But, shall we discuss the particulars at a more appropriate time? I see that dinner is about to be served, and, as the saying goes: ‘a good meal is like an admiral; never keep either waiting.’ May I escort you, Madame?"

Kirk got to his feet, and after a brief hesitation, the Ambassador followed suit. Together, they crossed the room, gathering on the way the other officers, while Spock, hands still locked behind his back, followed in stoic resignation, in the face of an inescapable duty.

4

It was well past midnight, ship’s time, when Captain Kirk emerged from his bathroom, a towel wrapped around his midriff. He poured himself a glass of iced water, and popped down his throat a couple of McCoy’s special pills supposedly capable of ‘nipping hangovers in the bud.’

"Damn!" he winced and ran a weary hand over his eyes. Too much drink for one night, but he could not possibly let McCoy and Scott get the better of him in front of the guests; the more so since the ladies could hold their own like troupers, to judge by the quantity and variety of wines and liquors which they had drained without batting an eyelid. Scotty had better watch out for his reputation.

Having refilled the glass, Kirk slipped on the gaudy black and gold robe he had once purchased on a whim on Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet, then flopped in his chair and turned on his personal recorder. Might as well log down the main facts while they were still fresh, or about, in his mind.

"Personnel Log, Stardate, er, supplemental. Tonight was the first official reception for the Cygnetian diplomatic delegation. Mmm...On the whole it went off satisfactorily, except for two incidents which I’ll bring up later. First, I must commend the ship’s galley personnel for the excellence of the food and the quality of the service. Append commendation to Mess Officer Briel’s service record. Secondly, I must tell the quartermaster to check our supplies in wines and spirits, specially in Romulan ale. Let us hope that our stock will last as far as Starbase Eleven.

"Remark: Thanks to the liberal serving of intoxicating beverages and the perfect teamwork of my senior officers, notably Uhura, Chapel and Sulu, the Cygnetians have considerably unwound over the evening.

"Question: Will their favorable disposition stand the test of a week spent on the Enterprise? Tomorrow, when I’ll take them on a tour, they’re bound to realize that my crew is sixty-five percent male, and that most of the posts of responsibility are held by male officers.

"Tonight, their prejudice against men in general has somewhat abated, but that does not preclude possible frictions in the future...as proof, their strong reaction when McCoy announced, bang in the middle of dinner, that he expected them all in Sickbay first thing in the morning for...

"...just a routine medical checkup."

McCoy could certainly have chosen a better time, Kirk decided, but, to judge from their protests, one might think that the delegation’s virtues were endangered.

Jabakim Tibiliseh, in particular and the First Secretary Jumseh were the most vocal. "We will not accept this, Captain," swore Tibiliseh angrily.

Scott leaned to Kirk’s ear and whispered, "Beautiful women, but each with a hell of a temper! Take my word for it, sir. They seem likely to stir up trouble on board sooner or later."

Kirk silenced him with a stern glance.

"What’s all the fuss about?" asked McCoy, confused.

"We have never been so insulted!" answered Jumseh.

"We are fit and healthy as expected of Cygnetian Warriors, and to question our physical condition is an unwarranted provocation!" shouted Tibiliseh.

"Never, under any circumstance, would any of us submit to such an indignity," stated the Ambassador categorically.

The assembled Starfleet officers were taken aback by their outburst.

McCoy tried to explain. "I meant no offense, ladies, but Starfleet regulations—"

The Ambassador haughtily dismissed his argument. "Our diplomatic immunity elevates us above your Starfleet’s ridiculous regulations."

Visibly losing his patience, Doctor McCoy turned to Kirk, who was clearly weighing the matter.

Nurse Chapel guessed the real point of issue, and sweetly suggested, "Perhaps Healer Dahseh could run the physicals herself, in which case I would be happy to assist her."

Bless her feminine intuition, thought Kirk.

Before McCoy had time to protest, Spock chipped in smoothly, "I believe that this is an excellent suggestion, Nurse Chapel, as it has the advantage of minding Starfleet regulations and at the same time complying with our guests’ personal ethics." The Vulcan looked at the chief medical officer. "I am quite certain that Doctor McCoy would not only agree, but that he certainly would be delighted to demonstrate some of our latest medical diagnostic techniques to Healer Dahseh."

Kirk took his cue promptly. "If there are no objections, then I propose that we should end tomorrow’s tour of the ship in Sickbay and leave our guests to Nurse Chapel’s care."

"There were no objections. The incident was closed.

"The second mishap arose when someone brought up the Babel Conference in the conversation. Several Federation diplomats were mentioned, but when the name of Sarek came up, I saw all at once the Cygnetians prick up their ears. Naturally, my officers spoke warmly of Sarek and Amanda who had left a lasting impression on the Enterprise crew during that eventful journey a few months ago. Spock looked impassible, but I suspect that he would rather have had the conversation take another course, given the embarrassing situation his father had faced on Cygnet Twelve.

"Usually, when duty bound to attend official receptions, Spock has the knack, which I wish I had, for seemingly giving his full attention to the party while at the same time working out some scientific problem or some equation quietly in his mind. This time, though, the mention of Sarek coupled with the startling effect on the Cygnetian delegation, snapped him our of his innermost thoughts. And, although he feigned indifference, I am sure he did not miss a word when Dah Tecumseh held forth on Sarek and his wife, and on the high regard they were both held in by the High Society of Cygnet Twelve.

"This was for me the opening to ask..."

"...whether or not you know, Madame Ambassador, if Ambassador Sarek is going to attend the conference at Starbase Eleven."

"Certainly," she said. "We definitely required his and the Lady Amanda’s presence at this gathering."

"We look forward to meeting Sarek and his wife again."

Kirk looked around the room. The dinner buffet table had been cleared, and everyone seemed to be relaxing with after-dinner liqueurs. So far so good.

Unfortunately, McCoy chose that moment to tease Spock.

"Why didn’t you tell us, Spock?" he asked in his best baiting mode.

Retreating at once behind his Vulcan mask, Spock curtly replied, "Because I did not know, Doctor."

Kirk sensed trouble ahead, and was slowly but deliberately moving to intercept his chief medical officer. Unfortunately, McCoy did not, and went on needling the Vulcan.

"Oh?" the doctor said with mock surprise. "Your parents didn’t tell you? Why on Earth not? I can’t believe that Amanda would keep her son in the dark...unless it’s to make it a surprise?"

Spock deigned not rise to the bait and merely pinned McCoy with a glare, but it was too late; the damage was done.

The Cygnetians viewed the two officers with wide-eyed stares and glares and outright surprise.

Anyone who knew the Vulcan knew he hated being the focus of attention, but Spock endured it stoically. Kirk was glaring at McCoy. The doctor quickly realized he had perhaps spoken out of turn.

Ambassador Dah Tecumseh stared at Spock, demanding, "Are you truly the son of the famous Ambassador Sarek?"

The Vulcan coolly replied, "Affirmative."

Dah Tecumseh turned to Captain Kirk, not hiding her displeasure. "Captain, I must protest! Why was I not informed? The son of Sarek, the diplomat most reputed on my planet, happens to be your first officer, and I was not told? This is most inconsiderate, Captain, and I demand an explanation. Why was I not informed, Captain?"

"I admit that her arrogant tone stung me, and my first reaction was to answer back in style. But remembering our specific orders, I was looking for a diplomatic reply when Spock, unexpectedly, forestalled me. I shall never forget the way..."

Spock looked the woman straight in the face and coldly said, "Because my kinship with Sarek is no concern of yours, Ambassador. With all due respect, your exalted rank does not entitled you and your entourage to pry in the Vulcans’ privacy."

A chill descended on the dinner party. The Cygnetians sat in shock.

"Oh, boy!" muttered by McCoy.

"...that put the situation in a nutshell. I know that Spock, despite his innate courtesy, can be occasionally devastatingly abrupt, and I have seen people blanch at his scathing remarks, but this could not have been more untimely. Damn it! How could he overlook the fact that a diplomatic mission is at stake and that Dah Tecumseh has been highly recommended by Starfleet Command? I felt cheated, then, I was furious with Spock, but now...I wonder. In view of what followed, I wonder if Spock’s abruptness was not deliberate. What’s more, the lady’s reaction was also out of character..."

James T. Kirk struggled to come up with an apology, or some words to that effect, but he might as well have saved his breath.

Dah Tecumseh paid no attention to him, nor Spock for that matter. The Ambassador was literally speechless.

McCoy leaned over to his captain and offered the opinion, "I’ll bet no one has ever spoken to her in that tone, let alone a man."

The Ambassador sat staring at Spock, and the Vulcan looked back at her with that dark, enigmatic, unnerving gaze.

"The silence was charged with tension and again I felt that something was up between these two. Others felt likewise for McCoy cleared his throat and looked at me with raised eyebrows. I just shrugged in reply. I knew no more than he did.

"So we all watched in silence as Spock and Dah Tecumseh looked in each other’s eyes, totally oblivious of their surroundings, as if nothing mattered but a tacit, mysterious challenge known but to them. McCoy will say that I am imagining things, but I believe that she was ardently trying to fathom the man hidden behind the impassible mask, the man who had dared oppose her, and to provoke him into revealing himself. Of course, she failed. She was no match to Spock who had assumed his super-Vulcan act. So much for her warrior pride! She learned how infuriating it is to be confronted to that inscrutable Vulcan stare.

"But I have to hand it to the lady. She gave in with great aplomb and dignity..."

Finally, the Ambassador turned away with a proud toss of the head and fixed her strange lilac gaze on James Kirk. "Captain," she said, "I must compliment you on your first officer. A man of singular ability, gifted with the Vulcan traits of his eminent father, except one, unfortunately. Commander Spock sadly lacks Sarek’s exquisite courtesy."

"Is she serious or is she trying to be funny?" McCoy whispered to Kirk again.

Kirk looked askance at his chief medical officer with unspoken warning clearly in his eye, but McCoy had no hesitation.

In his southern drawl, and loud enough for the Ambassador to hear, he said, "You don’t say! I’d’ve never suspected that." There was an unholy gleam in the doctor’s eyes as he looked around the table.

A snort of laughter escaped Sulu, echoed by an irrepressible giggle from Uhura, and suddenly all the Enterprise officers dissolved into laughter, except of course one aloof Vulcan.

"...Bones had unwittingly released the tension. Our guests, surprised at first, must have found it amusing for they finally joined in the mirth. These women are really unpredictable; arrogant, short-tempered one moment, friendly and charming the next. Dah Tecumseh is surely overbearing, at times, but she has a sense of humor, and she is so gorgeous that it is impossible to bear her a grudge for long.

"In the midst of our emotional display, Spock sat imperturbable, but, if that was not a gleam of interest I saw in his eyes, then I don’t know my Vulcan. At any rate, for all concerned, the incident was closed.

"And to put the icing on the cake, Mess Officer Briel chose that moment to serve the dessert, a huge Baked Alaska sparkling with frost and crackers. Great success. The Cygnetians had never seen anything like it and they just loved it That and the champagne which the Ambassador immediately entered in her list of favorite drinks. And so, the reception which might well have turned into one big disaster, carried on late into the night with toasts, cheers and much, too much drinking. I still don’t understand how these women manage to hold their liquor. Must be something in their genes...

"Needless to say, Spock had long since slipped away, pretending some arcane task in the labs. Could be. It’s just like him to spend the night over some experiment or other."

Kirk stifled a yawn, then added, "For the record, I recommend Baked Alaska or a similar desert to be served at reception involving Cygnetian representatives. That and champagne might be decisive factors in the success of diplomatic conferences. Kirk out." He pressed the off button with his thumb.

"And now, to bed!" he muttered as he pushed himself to his feet. He switched off the recorder, then paused, head tilted. His door buzzed loudly in the silence of the night.

"Who is it?" he called.

"Spock," came the muffled reply.

Kirk leaned over his desk and depressed the release catch. The doors parted, and a tall figure, dark against the outer light, walked in and halted just inside the door which slid shut behind him.

"Spock?" the captain peered beyond the pool of light cast by his desk lamp. "What the hell are you doing up and about at this time of night? Don’t you know it’s past..." He looked round at the wall chronometer.

"Oh-One-Eighteen, ship’s time, Captain," Spock specified.

"Too damn late for a social call anyway, Mister Spock. What’s up? Something wrong with the crew or the ship?"

"No, sir. Ship’s status normal. Only...when I passed your door, I heard your voice, so I took the liberty.... I apologize for the intrusion."

"It’s no intrusion, Spock," Kirk swept the excuse aside. "But what’s so important that it can’t wait till morning?"

"Something imperative, Captain," Spock said.

"Oh? Let’s have it, then." Kirk sighed and sank back into his chair. "As a matter of fact, I wanted to have a serious talk with you first thing tomorrow, but since you’re here, we might as well settle it now. You know what I mean, I suppose?"

"I do, sir."

"I should think so," Kirk said with mock severity. "That was a shocking behavior at dinner, Mister! I think you have some explaining to do."

"I am well aware of that, Captain, which is why I am here now," Spock stiffly replied.

"All right then, out with it," Kirk smiled. "Oh, and for heaven’s sake, don’t stand there like you’ve taken root. Come and sit down." Kirk knew that he sounded peeved, but he was tired and longed for his bed. He waited for his visitor to take a seat then resumed. "So, what exactly happened, Spock? You’ve got me wondering. I’ve rarely seen you do it, but this evening you lost your Vulcan cool, and you ran the risk of offending the Ambassador. Why?"

Silence. The Vulcan sat, head bowed, studying his clasped hands.

"Come on, Spock! We haven’t got all night." A pause. "Don’t you trust me?" Hazel eyes searched the Vulcan’s face, which looked pale in the full light.

"I trust you, Jim. I wouldn’t have come to you otherwise," Spock said in a muted voice.

All at once, Kirk’s irritation vanished. "I know, my friend," he said, sitting forward, "and something went wrong tonight at dinner. What was it?"

Finally, Spock lifted his gaze. "As you pointed out, Captain, I lost my self-control," he bitterly said. "What I did is unforgivable; I gave way to my emotions, and failed in my duty regards Admiral Komack’s orders. That’s what went wrong, Captain."

"Yes, but the point is: what made you lose control? The Ambassador was maddening, arrogant, exasperating, I grant you, but you might’ve replied with more tact and diplomacy —and you didn’t. I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t intentional."

The two men shared a long gaze, then Spock lowered his eyes. "You’re right, Jim," he admitted in a deep voice. "It was intentional which makes my behavior all the more objectionable." He paused, took a deep breath, then resumed. "My sole excuse, perhaps, is that I was assaulted."

"You...were...what?" Kirk blankly repeated.

"Mentally assaulted. The Cygnetian females are telepathic."

"Damn!" Kirk sat back in his chair, whistled then said, "So...that’s what it was!" He paused, letting the significance gradually sink in. Of course, all that confusing sequence of events, Spock’s strange attitude at dinner and his weird confrontation with Dah Tecumseh now made sense. And James T. Kirk, had found nothing better than blame his friend for his curious behavior towards their guests.

"Spock, I’m sorry. I never realized. I failed you, my friend, and I feel such a damn fool for getting it all wrong! I felt that something was up between the two of you; she certainly made no secret of her fascination. I even, for a moment, thought that you were responding to her obvious interest...but I never dreamt that..."

"I was not responding, Jim. On the contrary, I was striving to keep her out of my mind, her and her assistants." The bitterness in Spock’s voice, the pain visible in his eye made Kirk wince.

"I’m sorry," he repeated. "It must have been terrible."

"It was...not pleasant," conceded Spock. "Especially when the Ambassador, having failed to breach my shields, enlisted her associates."

"Not pleasant!" Kirk thought, Spock and his gift for understatement!

"However, I am gratified to report that their collective efforts were entirely wasted," Spock dryly stated.

"Good!" Kirk said with feeling. "So that is why Dah Tecumseh finally gave up, not without style, I must admit. But what I can’t get over is the audacity of these Cygnetians. Why don’t they stick to the Denevan Convention’s Intergalactic Rules of Telepaths? ‘Never contact anyone’s mind without first asking leave to do so’?"

"It would seem that they know nothing of our basic principles. To Cygnetians, an intrusion into someone’s mind is not unethical. It may even be the natural thing to do, for I strongly suspect the females of Cygnet Twelve of ruling the male population by mean of their superior psychic abilities."

"Is that possible?"

Spock nodded.

"Then they probably see no harm in controlling the minds of their males since they consider them inferiors."

"Indeed."

"Then are they manipulating us?"

Spock looked doubtful. "Unlikely, Captain. I detected no attempts at telepathic manipulation until they began to assert themselves on me."

"Are you saying you would have detected it if they had tried it on say me or one of the other Human crewmembers?"

"Yes, Captain. Telepathic manipulation requires such an outpouring of mental energy that any telepath would be able to detect it."

"Okay, so why try it on you?"

"Unknown."

"And when they tried it on you, they failed." Kirk drew a conclusion. "That must’ve been a hell of a shock to their pride!"

Spock looked doubtful, but conceded, "Possibly."

"Sure, Spock!" Kirk persisted. "Think of the frustration of the Ambassador. First Sarek, and now you! This must be why Cygnetian females are so fascinated by you Vulcans. The irresistible attraction of the challenge, of the ‘Forbidden Fruit,’ even."

"Captain!" Spock was clearly affronted. "I find you comparison very farfetched, not to say insulting."

Kirk explained, "The fact that you Vulcans are impervious to their charms makes you all the more intriguing and desirable, don’t you see?"

Eyeing his grinning captain, the Vulcan considered it for a brief moment, then admitted with some reluctance, "I see your point, Jim, but I find it illogical for these females to persist in their vain attempt when they should find no difficulty with Humans. Given their propensity to broadcast their emotions, the crew should be a suitable source of amusement for our guests."

"Yes, you’d think that a shipload of emotional Humans would satisfy their curiosity," Kirk admitted with a chuckle. "But, these ladies aren’t used to being rebuffed. They must consider you as a challenge which makes you much more interesting than us mere Humans." He paused, fingers drumming on the desk. "Well, Spock, I don’t care much for the idea of our minds being probed by the Cygnetians, all the time."

"Not quite accurate, Jim. The Cygnetians’ mental abilities seem to be essentially superficial. I found that they are unable to reach deeply into trained minds."

"Well, that’s something anyway, but what about the average Human mind? What’s to stop them from getting all the information they want or even manipulating us into doing what they want? And surely Starfleet and the Federation must be aware of the danger!" Kirk wondered.

"There is always that risk when dealing with formidable telepaths, Captain, myself included. However, those particularly egregious acts do not seem to be their goal, or even part of their plan. From my brief mental contact with them, I must conclude that they are not interested in manipulating the conference or in surreptitiously attaining intelligence regarding Starfleet or Federation technology. They are interested in joining the Federation, but they doubt that it can be achieved considering the fact that men and women are guaranteed equality among its member worlds."

Kirk sighed. "That’s a relief. What other impressions did you sense?"

"I found that they are intensely curious about in the feelings others experience. Being a highly emotional race, the Cygnetians like nothing better than to pry and relish in others’ emotions." Spock’s distaste was evident.

"But that’s practically voyeurism," Kirk snorted. Struck by a sudden thought, he stared at his friend. "Spock ? Is that what they wanted from you? Your emotions?"

Spock nodded mutely. Being half-Human, the first officer had emotions, but, being half-Vulcan, he fought to keep them reined in. It was a constant struggle.

Kirk could see the hurt in his friend’s eyes, he could imagine the proudly private Vulcan, a prey to these females’ morbid curiosity. "How dare they!" he snapped, clenching his fists. "I have a good mind to—"

"Don’t, Captain," Spock quietly said. "There’s nothing you can do. The harassment which I was subjected to was unintentional, done more out of ignorance of the Federation’s telepathic ethics than malice. They seem to crave anything new, and being confronted with an entirely new culture and, honestly, an entirely new consortium of cultures, they are looking forward to the entertainment and emotional experiences that exposure to the cultures of the Federation member worlds would provide."

"Well, they’ll get more than they bargained for with us Humans!"

"Agreed. The complexity and variety of the cultures of the Federation’s Human-dominated member worlds should keep them more than occupied," was the Vulcan’s caustic comment.

Kirk chuckled."Do you think that we should spread the word, warn the command staff to be careful of their stray thoughts?"

"Yes, but in particular Doctor McCoy and Chief Engineer Scott," Spock suggested. "Both gentlemen have a tendency to broadcast even the slightest thought, no matter how inappropriate."

The captain smiled. "All right, but I’ll address it with the entire command staff at breakfast. After that, I’m sure the ship’s grapevine will take over. This way, the crew’ll be prepared for any eventuality. But, what about you, Spock? Will you be all right?"

The warmth of a smile lit the Vulcan’s eyes. "I shall be ‘all right,’ Jim, and I shall do my best to stay at a safe distance."

"Well, you are more than a match for these Cygnetian Amazons, and I hope that they’ve learned their lesson and’ll leave you alone now. Okay, then." Kirk got to his feet and stretched out. "If that’s all, I’ve got to turn in, Spock. It’s been a long day. See you later."

Kirk had hardly reached his bed when a slight cough made him turn around. Spock was still standing poker-stiff by the desk. "Something else?" the captain asked wearily.

"Yes, sir. I believe you forgot to put me on report."

"On report? Whatever for?"

"For non-observance of Starfleet’s orders, sir."

"Are you out of your mind?"Kirk said in exasperation. "I certainly will not put you on report, especially after what you have been through!"

"But, Captain, Starfleet Command specified—"

"Starfleet be damned!" Kirk snapped. "We’ve already surmised that Starfleet Command knew about the telepathic abilities of the Cygnetians and failed to inform us of it. As far as I’m concerned, they can stuff their orders."

Spock’s shocked expression cut him short.

Without missing a beat, the captain went on, "I will not let the brass allow these precious diplomats of theirs to harass my officers, even if it’s on a psychic level. We’re expected to meet all their requirements et cetera, et cetera, but there are limits, damn it, and Admiral Komack sure as hell knows it!"

The captain paced back and forth then halted in front of his first officer. "You know something, Spock? I think it was high time for our dear Ambassador Dah Tecumseh to be told some truths, and you saved me the trouble of doing it myself. So, instead of a report, what about having a commendation appended to your record?"

"I fail to see the logic of..." Spock began but he was again cut short by his captain who was in no mood for argument at 0200 in the morning.

"That is my logic, Mister Spock," Kirk stated, "and you’ll have to make do with it. I won’t put you on report, and that’s that! But..." He paused, a gleam in his eyes. "But, come to think of it, there is something which, logically deserves a reprimand, Mister First Officer."

"Sir?"

"Your lack of diplomatic courtesy. For shame, Spock! What would your father say?" Seeing a green flush color the Vulcan’s cheek bones, Kirk said with a disarming grin, "Never mind, Spock. You taught the lady a rather blunt lesson in ethics which she’d be wise not to forget. But she took it in stride, and even with humor. The lady’s no fool, or did you not notice?"

"Yes, I did noticed," Spock replied.

"Well, then, let’s call it a day. The incident’s closed. Agreed?"

"Agreed, Captain. Good night." And, turning on his heels, the first officer departed with the sound of Kirk’s ‘Good night’ drifting after him.

5

In the chief medical officer’s ward, the chronometer ticked 1115, and the doctor scowled. Forty-five minutes late. The captain was supposed to bring the Cygnetian delegation in full force no later than 1030. Surely the diplomats were not that taken with Scott’s technology for Jim to be forced into drawing out their visit to Engineering longer than scheduled? He snorted. Sickbay personnel had better things to do than waste their time waiting for...

The intercom buzzing on his desk interrupted McCoy’s brooding.

"Sickbay!" he gruffly barked.

"Bones?" came the captain’s voice. "Sorry, but we’ll be late."

"Yeah, so I noticed."

"I know, but..." Kirk dropped his voice, "we are still in Engineering, and you know Scotty when it comes to showing off his department."

"Well, you can tell him from me that my department happens to run a tight schedule and can’t be kept waiting indefinitely," McCoy snapped. "Not mentioning the poor guys who are kicking their heels in my ward and wondering what’s to become of them."

"Damn! I had forgotten them," Kirk swore under his breath. "Wait! Looks like Scotty’s lecture is over. Okay, Bones, give me ten minutes, and we’ll be right there. Kirk out."

"And about time too!" McCoy grumbled as he stood up.

On his way to the ward, he looked in on the Cygnetian entourage and told the men that their ladies would arrive shortly.

The bayle, acting as spokesman, replied, "We understand, sir, all too well."

"Right! Er...sure you don’t want a drink? Coffee...beer...anything?" McCoy reiterated his offer but, once more, met with a polite refusal.

"We are grateful, sir, but we do not need anything."

The good doctor could not help but feel sorry for the servants who had been kept waiting, and seemed to endure their treatment with great patience and dignity. Perhaps, if he got on good terms with the Healer, he could drop a word in their favor. "Okay, then, you just stay put," he told them for the sake of saying something, and he went in search of his head nurse.

When that morning, at breakfast, Kirk had briefed his senior officers on the situation, the captain had mentioned Spock’s painful experience with the telepathic Cygnetians, no one had been more shocked than Christine Chapel. She knew that it was foolish and hopeless, but she still nursed a tender passion for the austere Vulcan, and after hearing what the delegation had dared to do him, her opinion of them had changed drastically. And Leonard McCoy was well aware of her feelings.

"Nurse!" he called. "The delegation will be here any time soon. Is everything ready?"

"As ready as it will ever be, Doctor."

"And you, Chris?" he asked under his breath.

She gave him a wistful smile. "Don’t worry. I’ll keep my feelings to myself. They’re none of their concern," she replied.

"I could take over, if you wish," he offered. "These women can probe my emotions and thoughts for all I care! Only...since you volunteered last night, they might not understand if we change."

"Thanks for the offer, Doctor, but I’ll manage," Chapel firmly said.

"Good girl," he said approvingly, patting her arm. "Let’s go!"

*****

When Kirk ushered the diplomats in McCoy’s office, he noticed on the doctor’s face that fleeting expression of stunned admiration which had followed his party wherever they went. The least you could say was that the Cygnetians had not gone unnoticed on his ship! Although they had apparently decided to present that morning a less flamboyant appearance than on the previous night, their conception of casual wear was pretty spectacular. The sight of the captain escorting a group of tall, striking-looking females clad in tight-fitting jumpsuits of glossy blacks, silver grays and vivid fuchsias, had naturally created a sensation.

For all their flashy appearances, however, the Cygnetians proved to be knowledgeable and interested in the wide spectrum of scientific technologies that the Enterprise commanded, which had led Kirk to change the standard ship survey for a more exhaustive visit. But he was not sorry to hand his glamorous visitors over to the medical staff and to return to the bridge. And so, after a brief exchange, Kirk made to leave with a casual "Coming, Doctor?" tossed over his shoulder.

McCoy, fortunately was quick on the uptake, and, busying himself at his desk, loudly replied, "Yes, Captain. Let me just turn this thing off, and I’ll be right with you."

This was not lost on the Ambassador, who paused at the door of the examination room and inquired, "Are you leaving, Doctor McCoy?"

"Yes, Madame. A technical problem to discuss with the captain. Besides, I was given to understand that you ladies don’t want me around at your medical examination."

Her beautiful face registered some huffiness, and she glanced at her cousin who said, "True, but we were given to understand that you would be available to provide all information on your medical facility."

"Which is what the other officers have done in their departments," Dah Tecumseh pointed out with asperity. "I cannot believe that your meeting with Captain Kirk be a matter of such urgency as to prevent you from honoring your obligations, Doctor."

The tone of her remark set McCoy bristling. "I’ll have you know, Ma’am, that it is not my habit to shirk my obligations," he retorted.

Kirk, an appreciative observer, felt it was time for him to step in. Clearing his throat to claim attention, he said pleasantly, "Excuse me, Ambassador, but there seems to be a slight misunderstanding. Do you actually require the doctor’s presence?"

"Naturally!" she replied haughtily.

"Oh...in that case, my business with McCoy can wait, agreed, Doctor?"

"Of course!" McCoy shrugged.

"Perfect. Then I shall leave you, ladies, with our chief surgeon. Now, if you will excuse me..." And, after exchanging a wink of connivance with McCoy, the captain departed, laughing up his sleeve. The proud Cygnetians had fallen for his ruse, and now, at their own insistence, here was McCoy where he belonged, in charge of his domain.

And very much in charge, to judge by what he was saying next door. "All right, ladies. Let’s get on with your physicals. Will you show the way, Nurse...ah, just a minute, Ambassador. I regret to inform you that that pet of yours is not going into my sickbay. Sorry, Ma’am, regulations. You don’t want my patients to get a heart attack, do you?"

And so, when the captain returned to the bridge, he was wearing on his face a satisfied grin which was duly noted by his second-in-command.

"Satisfied with your morning tour, Captain?" the latter asked as he rose from the command chair to stand beside at parade rest.

"Quite, Mister Spock," Kirk cheerfully replied. "Actually, it went off better than I expected." Crossing his legs, he added, "In fact, it provided as much entertainment to the crew as to the V.I.P.’s."

"Indeed?" A Vulcan eyebrow went up and down while knowing smiles were exchanged all around.

"Quite. And, so far as I can tell, no attempt was made at mental contact," Kirk said with a meaningful glance. "Looks like your confrontation with Dah Tecumseh had produced the desired effect."

"Possibly," Spock said cautiously, "but I rather think that the emotional display of uninhibited Humans has rendered their mind probing superfluous."

"In other words, these women may well have had their fill of emotions just as we anticipated."

"Very likely, Captain."

"And now that we’ve left them with McCoy, who knows what might happen?" Kirk chuckled.

"They probably run the risk of an emotional overdose," Spock said deadpan, "which fortunately can be cured with appropriate therapy." And with that comment, the Vulcan calmly went back to his station, ignoring the giggles that went around the bridge.

Lieutenant Uhura, however, did not share the laughter. "For shame, Mister Spock!"she said reproachfully. "That’s not fair!"

"What is not fair, Lieutenant?" the Vulcan, mildly puzzled, inquired.

"To make fun of the doctor when he isn’t here to answer you. He’s just like the rest of us, too emotional for Vulcan standards, but isn’t that precisely what the Cygnetians are looking for? If I remember the terms of the briefing, weren’t we requested to meet all their requirements? So, there you are, Mister Spock!"

Thus challenged by his fellow officer, and passably disconcerted, Spock blinked.

A chuckle drifted up from the command chair. "I think she’s made a point, Spock, don’t you?" Kirk remarked.

Spock took time to consider, then cleared his throat and replied, "I must admit that there is some logic in Lieutenant Uhura’s reasoning."

"Why, thank you, Mister Spock," Uhura favored him with a smile then, with a side-glance at Kirk, she added slyly, "and if I know the good doctor, I’ll bet he’ll have them eating out of his hand before the day is over."

"You may well be right, Uhura. Doctor McCoy’s Southern charm does wonder with the ladies," Kirk agreed. Then, noting a slanted eyebrow raised in shock, he kindly explained, "Don’t worry, Mister Spock. It’s only a figure of speech."

*****

As it happened, Uhura’s prediction came true sooner than expected. The captain and some of his officers were quietly talking shop over lunch when suddenly Chief Engineer Scott broke off in mid-sentence and stared wide-eyed at a point behind Kirk.

"By all that’s holy," he breathed. "Look who’s here!"

Kirk spun round just in time to see Doctor McCoy escorting the Ambassador, the Councilor and the Jabakim.

"How about that?" The captain commented with a wink at Uhura. "Looks like you were right, Lieutenant."

"In what way, sir?" asked the first officer who, despite a legitimate curiosity, considered it beneath his dignity to turn round and gawk like his human shipmates.

"Just take a look, Mister Spock, and you will know," Uhura suggested in an undertone.

He did, with appropriate discretion, and got a full view of McCoy helping the Cygnetians with the food dispenser. "Fascinating," Spock coolly commented before turning his attention back to his salad.

Helmsman Hikaru Sulu seemed unable to take his eyes off the Cygnetian delegation. "Captain, with your permission, perhaps I should go and help the ladies?"

"Sure, Mister Sulu, why not? Go and make your self useful...yes, you too, Mister Chekov!" Kirk’s tolerant smile sent the two young men jumping to their feet and rushing to the rescue of the Healer and the Jabakim who stood hesitantly, a tray in their hands.

"Look at them! Aye, it’s grand to be young, Cap’n," sighed Lieutenant Commander Scott as he watched his juniors doting attendance on the two women.

"Young, Scotty?" Kirk gave him a sly grin. "I don’t think that youth has anything to do with it, to judge by your faultless performance this morning. Our guests were fascinated."

Obviously gratified, Scott said,"Och, one does one’s best, Cap’n, but I admit that in my heyday, I could have taught yon lads one thing or two!"

The ‘lads,’ in the meantime, had settled the Cygnetians at a nice table and had checked that they had everything they needed. The two came back as pleased as punch, not even put out by an unnerving Vulcan stare. Next arrived Doctor McCoy with a laden tray, who plumped himself down opposite Kirk and launched into his lunch, apparently indifferent to the pointed comments of his fellow officers.

Kirk drained his mug of coffee and remarked, "How is it that you leave your charges to their services, Doctor?" He gestured at Sulu and Chekov.

"Mmm? Oh, I guess the delegation’s seen enough of my face for a while. Besides, I got the impression that they had a lot of things they wanted to talk about in private," he airily replied.

Spock raised an eyebrow while assessing McCoy with almost medical scrutiny.

Kirk noted as well, but chose not to pursue his suspicions. Instead, he nodded wisely. "Very considerate of you. I take it that the session went off well in Sickbay?"

"Yeah. Very well," McCoy smugly replied. "So well that Tanlila Dahseh wants to spend more time in our labs...to compare our methods with their herbs and drug therapy. Mmm...might be interesting."

"I knew that you two would get on well once she overcame her prejudice," Kirk said. "But...I am curious, Bones. What have you done with the cat?"

"Cat? What cat?" McCoy blinked. "Oh...the cat! Some ‘cat,’ isn’t she? Tingalee is its name. A beautiful creature, but out of place in Sickbay. So I had one of the Cygnetian men take her back to their quarters where she belongs."

His fellow officers looked amused.

"Just like that?" Uhura asked in surprise.

"Yes, just like that!"

"But, Doctor, she...she didn’t mind?" Sulu wondered with a look at the Ambassador conversing with her assistants.

"Well," McCoy’s eyes sparkled with glee, "if the ambassador did, she didn’t let on!"

6

The following day, the captain, having dispatched a hasty dinner, was striding along the corridor to his quarters where the unpleasant prospect of paperwork awaited him, when, rounding an intersection, he came upon a whirlwind of flame-colored chiffons which turned out to be his communication officer, all dolled up for a party.

"Oh my, Lieutenant!" he exclaimed when he recovered his voice. "Quite a striking sari!"

"Thank you, Captain," Uhura demurely said.

"And where are you going to?" His voice had an almost lilting quality to it.

"To a party, sir, she said," she returned in tone.

"Must be quite a party!" Kirk eyed her appreciatively.

"It is a diplomatic reception," she primly told him.

"Indeed? The Ambassador, I suppose?" Kirk’s eyes twinkled.

Uhura nodded. "Yes. Christine Chapel, Jasmine Rhada, Anne Nored, Helen Noel, Lashanda Briel and I have been invited to dinner, with her assistants."

"To dinner? Well, you women certainly move in exalted circles these days!"

"Actually," Uhura dropped her voice to a murmur, "we rather think that under pretense of treating us to Cygnetian food, she means to worm information out of us."

"What? More information? With all the inquiries and surveys that they’ve carried out for the last two days, I’d think they’d’ve stocked enough data to fill a computer up to the brim."

"Sure, Captain," Uhura laughed, "but I rather think that they are looking for something else altogether."

"Meaning?"

"Well...something more...personal, something that is never filed in a computer."

"Such as?" Kirk was now eyeing her suspiciously.

"Such as...for instance, our experience in Starfleet, the way we women manage our career, or the way we cope with our shipmates in this male-dominated community...perhaps also our relationship with our superior officers, et cetera, et cetera," Uhura rattled on. Then eyes bright with mischief, she sweetly asked, "Know what I mean, Captain?"

"Perfectly, Uhura," Kirk replied with a smug smirk, "and that, in my book, is pure female gossip."

"Are you sure, Captain?" Uhura was all innocence. "In my department, this is called an informal exchange of information, and it has the great advantage of working both ways. You can’t imagine how much we learn in these informal gatherings. You only have to mind you don’t give more than you get." She favored Kirk with the kind of roguish look which he always found irresistible.

"All right, you win, Uhura. I shall leave it to your expertise, but remember one important factor: With these women it is not so much a question of minding what you say as what you think. So, be careful."

"I know, sir," she said in earnest. "Actually, Chris Chapel and I have already had some telepathic experience, so we’ll be careful."

"Good. Now, don’t let me keep you. Have a good time! Oh, and Uhura?"

"Captain?" she turned around.

"Try not to put us poor men in too bad a light, will you?" Kirk suggested with a coaxing smile.

She smiled back. "We’ll try, sir. Promised!" And on these parting words, she vanished round the corner.

*****

Naturally, the Ambassador’s party could not be ignored on a ship where rumors are always welcome to liven up the daily routine. Therefore, the next day, Uhura and her friends could verify that the grapevine had functioned at peak efficiency when a number of their crewmates came and plied them with questions. It came to the point that Uhura was heard declaring that she should perhaps consider giving a press conference! The Enterprise women proved to be the souls of discretion, however, for very little was said of what had taken place at the party, except a description of the V.I.P. suite, lavishly refitted, Cygnetian fashion, with furs, tapestries and rugs brought over from Cygnet XII, a description of the clothes and jewelry of their hosts, and a mouth-watering account of the food and drinks that were served.

Even Kirk obtained but the scantiest of information, and what Uhura told him only confirmed Spock’s data regarding the male-female relationship of that planet’s society. The women ruled and made all the decisions. Uhura compared the Cygnet XII situation to that of Earth, before feminist movements had led to an evolution of ideas, and eventually changed the women’s condition. With the difference that on Earth, it had been the males who were the dominant sex, and on Cygnet XII, it was the other way round.

This prompted Kirk to predict, "If they want to join the Federation, our fine Amazons will have to change their social system. But even if they don’t, it’s just a matter of time before they’ll find themselves with a Men’s Liberation Movement on their hands!"

"Possibly, Captain. Will you be the first to raise the standard of revolt?" she teased.

"Who? Me? Not on your life! These women scare the living daylights out of me, Uhura."

"I can’t believe it, sir! But, you know, the male condition is not so bad. For instance, Healer Dahseh is happily married, with three children. Her consort, a fine-looking man from the portrait we saw, stays at home and looks after them while she carries out her career."

"Really? Hmm... Well, one last question, Uhura. You said that Healer Dahseh is married. What about the others, do you know?"

"I do. They are not," she said pointedly. "From what I heard, many Cygnetian women prefer their freedom. They dislike being involved with just one partner. They like variety, experience. It’s more fun, they say. So...if you’re interested, Captain, I don’t doubt that any of them would be willing partners." And she left him with that parting shot.

*****

Later that day, an event took place which was to bring momentous consequences.

Dihlut, one of the Cygnetian men-servants, was taking the tungah for her usual run down in the shuttle bay, when the animal broke loose. According to witnesses, it seemed that Dihlut’s attention was attracted by a couple of janitorial technicians carrying out repairs in a corridor, when one of the vacuum cleaning robots suddenly appeared and glided ponderously toward them with an ominous drone. The tungah took fright, snapped her leash off and bolted away. It so happened that two ensigns were stepping out of the turbolift on the same level, when a white tornado appeared from nowhere, ran full tilt at the two women who just had enough of a reflex to throw themselves face down on the deck as the apparition leaped over them with a blood-curdling roar, to tumble into the lift...which immediately closed its door and sped on.

The next thing that the women knew, footsteps came pounding down, skidded to a halt, and a voice shouted excitedly.

"Where it is? Did you see it?" asked one technician.

"Are you two okay?" asked the other.

The ensigns cautiously raised their heads, exchanged a dazed look, and sat up slowly. "Yes, I think so," said one of them, "but, whatever it was it’s gone...in the lift."

"Damn!" One of the crestfallen janitorial technicians looked helplessly at the distracted Cygnetian.

The man-servant, Dihlut, simply kept repeating, "I must find her! I must bring her back!"

"Don’t fret, man. Your pet is not lost," said a technician.

"Yes, but where is it?" wondered his mate. "It could be anywhere by now."

"Have you called Security?" asked one of the women ensigns. "They’ll start a search."

"First, we should try and stop that lift!"

The senior technician pried open the panel. "Right! There’s an override switch in here somewhere..."

*****

On the bridge the morning shift was performing their routine duty with their customary efficiency.

Captain Kirk having been called down to Engineering, the command chair was occupied by the first officer. A yeoman presented Commander Spock with a compuclipboard for perusal and signature, then was dismissed. He went up to call up the turbolift, but, as he waited by the door, strange noises, bumps and growls drifted up the shaft.

As they grew louder, heads turned round in surprise.

"Do you hear that?" Sulu said.

"I vwonder vwhat it is," remarked Chekov.

Spock had swiveled his chair and was listening intently. "Curious! It sounds like..." He began, then he ordered sharply, "Yeoman! Stand back, now!"

The young man blindly obeyed, only just in time.

The turbolift opened and disgorged a howling, frenzied bundle of fur which rolled over, bounced across the bridge, leaped over the navigation console, to finally crouch at bay under the unmanned environmental engineering station.

The crew sat frozen, holding their collective breath. Then the shaken voice of Uhura was heard gasping, "Oh, my God! It’s the tungah!"

The intraship signal chose that moment to pipe up, and a breathless voice called, "Bridge! Bridge, do you read? Security Chief Giotto here! The Ambassador’s beast is loose in the turbolifts. Better lock your lift doors!"

Uhura replied with commendable sang froid, "Too late, Mister Giotto. The beast is already h