Death Count Read online

  Pursing his lips around a half-hearted scowl, Kirk brought both feet to the floor and set his brandy on the table. “I am relaxing.” He sniffed the brandy again, decided he still didn’t want it, and pushed it toward McCoy. “What’s the matter? Aren’t I relaxing efficiently enough?”

  Scott chortled appreciatively, and McCoy’s leathery face opened into a sly smile. “Aha! Do my trained medical senses detect some lingering hostility here?”

  “What lingering?” Kirk folded his arms, decided that seemed too defensive and settled for leaning his elbows on the table instead. “I haven’t even expressed enough hostility to be down to just ‘lingering.’”

  “That’s all right, sir.” Scott raised his glass in ironic salute. “I think my lads have expressed enough hostility for the lot of us.”

  Kirk acknowledged his engineer’s sentiment with a tip of his head. “What is it with these people, anyway? The Enterprise needed an efficiency inspection like Spock needs a psychologist.” He thumped back in his chair, arms folded after all. “I’ve got the best, most efficient crew in the Fleet, and the Auditor General knows it as well as anyone. Eating up our leave time with interviews and inspections was a waste of everybody’s shore leave.”

  “They had auditors down in sickbay, too.” McCoy sounded dangerously close to placating, and Kirk slid him a warning look to stave off the worst of it. The doctor acquiesced by throwing his hands up between them. “I’m just saying the irritation was mutual, Jim. But orders are orders—it’s not like you could have done anything to keep them from coming on board.”

  Kirk thought that he could have told Chekov to position guards at every transporter station and use phasers on anyone carrying a clipboard and inspection manual. That probably wasn’t what McCoy had in mind, though. “At least it’s over,” Kirk sighed, willing his muscles to relax and his irritation to bleed away. “We won’t have to worry about it again in my lifetime.”

  Scott ruined the moment by glancing over his captain’s head and aiming a dark, Scottish frown at the doorway. “We might be speaking just a wee bit too soon, I’m afraid… .”

  “Kirk?” Heavy footsteps thundered up behind him, followed by a sharp rap on the shoulder. “I need to talk with you, Captain. As usual, your people are causing me problems.”

  Dropping his head, Kirk rubbed his eyes with one hand instead of turning to growl at John Taylor. “Mr. Taylor, I am on shore leave. Mr. Spock is on the ship if you have questions—”

  “Damn right I have questions!” Taylor stepped into Kirk’s peripheral vision, obviously waiting for the captain to look up at him. He’d be waiting a long time, Kirk decided. “Your Commander Spock says we’ve been barred from reboarding the Enterprise. Is that true?”

  “Vulcans don’t lie, Mr. Taylor.” Kirk finally swung his chair to face the man, and couldn’t help lifting eyebrows in surprise to find all four auditors fidgeting impatiently behind him. He focused on the taller of the two men, knowing from three days’ hard experience that Taylor was both mouthpiece and motor for this unit. A more offensive and prickly mouthpiece, Kirk couldn’t have easily imagined.

  “You’ve been barred from the Enterprise,” Kirk said, “because your business there is finished. I was told to assist in your inspection while we were in port. You said last night you were done with that inspection, so, as of this morning, you have no further authority or need to inspect either my ship or my crew. I’ll thank you to leave us our remaining shore-leave time in peace.” He nodded to the other three auditors, and moved to turn his back on them in the hopes they’d all take the hint and drag their boss away.

  “Not so fast, Captain.” Taylor stopped him with a hand on his chair and a hard copy film of Federation letterhead under his nose.

  Kirk took the film in both hands, refusing to recognize the boarding permit or the official-as-hell signature beneath it. “What’s this?”

  “My orders.” Taylor crossed his arms, lips curled in a sneer of satisfaction. “I found a number of discrepancies while compiling my people’s reports on your crew. The Federation Auditor General thought it a good idea to observe your ship in the course of a normal mission. That way, we can decide who’s at fault before my final report is filed.”

  Kirk clenched his fist until the permit crumpled to near-unreadability.

  “At fault?” McCoy’s blue eyes snapped with a disapproval Kirk had learned to recognize well over the years. “You turn people’s jobs and experience into sets of little numbers, then you think somebody has to be at fault when those numbers don’t match up to some desk jockey’s idea of efficiency? Good God! How are we supposed to be efficient with you people sticking your noses into everything all the time?”

  “Lingering hostility,” Kirk reminded the doctor. McCoy only made a face and fell silent.

  “You can’t come with us.” Kirk turned his chair to face Taylor again, suppressing a guilty swell of satisfaction when the auditor danced back a few steps to avoid colliding with the captain. “No matter what the Auditor General thinks, you’re still civilian personnel. The Enterprise is scheduled to conduct three separate planetary explorations in the Canopis sector on our next assignment. As captain, I have the right to declare any of those explorations too dangerous for civilians.” He spread his hands and smiled his most painfully charming smile. “I am hereby declaring them so.”

  Scott leaned across the table to shrug apologetically. “You can’t very well study a crew’s efficiency when you aren’t even able to be with the crew, now, can you?” He sounded as reasonable and contrite as any man ever could. “Maybe next time.”

  Taylor narrowed dark eyes to peer back and forth from one to another of the three officers. Kirk honestly couldn’t remember if Taylor’s every expression and gesture had irritated him from the beginning, or if the rare degree of enmity they shared had developed along the way. It probably didn’t matter anymore. “What if you weren’t going to Canopis?”

  “But we are,” Kirk said. “Even you can’t change that.”

  Taylor snapped a finger against the flimsy in Kirk’s hand. “I don’t have to. Commodore Petersen already did.”

  That clock-spring of tension came back with annoying facility. Kirk flipped the printout in his hand, frowning down the long chains of legalese until words like “Orion” and “surveillance” popped out of the morass. “They can’t do this.” He shot a glare up at Taylor, and wanted suddenly to slap the hauteur from the auditor’s face. “Why wasn’t I told?”

  Taylor shrugged, snatching back the flimsy. “I’m sure there’s a message waiting back on board for you. Maybe you don’t check your mail prompts often enough.”

  And maybe this was all some stupid misunderstanding, and the Auditor General wasn’t really trying to push some starship captain into murdering a team of his investigators. Standing, Kirk pulled the flimsy from Taylor’s hand much more politely than the auditor had taken it from him.

  “Where are you going?” Taylor asked when Kirk stepped past him.

  “To talk to Commodore Petersen. There has to be some mistake.” Kirk stopped in the doorway to glance behind him. “Bones, Scotty—I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check on that lunch.”

  They were already out of their chairs and headed after him. “Are you kidding?” McCoy grumbled while auditors parted before him like a flock of flustered pigeons. Taylor turned an irate circle, mouth agape even though he didn’t try to stop the doctor. “If I have to eat anything called bubble-and-squeak,” McCoy declared, “the last thing I need is somebody criticizing the efficiency of my digestion.” He bumped Scott with one elbow, favoring the auditors with a withering glare. “Come on, Scotty—let’s go find someplace that’s a little more discriminating about who it lets inside.”

  Chapter Two

  “THOSE WERE the rudest policemen I’ve ever met.” Uhura’s voice still smoldered with indignation. “Look at them—they’re shoving everyone around!”

  Sulu nodded, frowning as he watched the dark re
d figures weave through the crowd. Their spacing seemed too carefully measured to be the random result of shore leave. “I think they’re looking for someone. Or something.”

  “Well, I hope they don’t find it.” Uhura took a bite of the pastry she held, then looked at it in surprise. “Pavel, did you give me your cloud-apple pie?”

  The security chief looked over his shoulder at her, his frown fading down to one worried line between his eyes. “No, my pie was the one that dropped,” he assured her. “That one’s yours.”

  Uhura gave him a dubious look. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Sulu grinned. Knowing how much Chekov disliked trying any new food made it even more fun to watch him wriggle out of it. “Coward,” Sulu said, licking the last pastry flakes off his fingers. He glanced around, looking for a directional marker. “Come on. We’ve only got an hour of shore leave left, and the store I want to visit is at the other end of the Galleria.”

  “It would be.” Despite his sigh, Chekov followed Sulu readily enough down the gallery’s curving tunnel, merely pausing to let Uhura fall into step in front of him. Sulu noticed that the Russian kept a wary gaze on the red-suited figures moving through the crowd. “So, what hobby is it this week?”

  Sulu blinked, startled by the accuracy of the question. “How did you know—I mean, what makes you think I’ve got a new hobby?” He glanced back over his shoulder, hearing Uhura’s soft ripple of amusement join Chekov’s deeper laugh. “What’s so funny?”

  “Sulu, there are some things we always do when we’re on shore leave together,” said Uhura with a smile. “Chekov always cajoles you into playing simulator games—”

  “Uhura always finds some strange food for us to eat,” added Chekov wryly.

  “—and you always find a new hobby to bring back to the Enterprise.” Uhura glanced back at the security chief as they passed the wide gate leading to the station’s docks. “What was it last time? Arcturian yoga?”

  Chekov shook his head. “That was the time before last. Last time it was carving replicas of famous starships in Iotian crystal.”

  Mild embarrassment prickled across Sulu’s cheekbones, and he lifted a hand to scrub the feeling away. “I’m still working on those starships,” he pointed out. “And how was I supposed to know you need two sets of arms to do Arcturian yoga?”

  “Sulu, anyone who ever watched an Arcturian doing yoga would have known that!”

  “Details, details.” Sulu spotted the store he’d visited earlier, its painted sign almost hidden by the riot of ivy and flowers cascading through the open lattice front. “This is the place I want. Come on in.”

  Inside the plant-filled shop, the pleasant chime of falling water mingled with the chirp of something like crickets. Sulu paused on the threshold and took a deep breath. The mingled smells of soil, leaves, and budding flowers moistened the air to almost planetary freshness. “Isn’t this great?”

  “It’s just like your cabin.” Chekov came to stand beside him, frowning as the chirping sound grew louder. “I thought insects weren’t allowed on class-four space stations.”

  “Those aren’t insects.” Sulu lifted a curtain of Denebian lianas for Uhura to duck under, ignoring the spray of fragrant pollen they showered down on him. Beyond the screen of vines, water bubbled in a curved black marble pool, gently rocking the moss-green pads of water lilies. Translucent sapphire flowers rose out of the water on fragile, bending stems while small gold-speckled lizards curled catlike on the leaf pads. Their throat sacs fluttered with their chirping.

  “Oh!” Uhura’s musical voice softened with delight as she sank down beside the pool. “Sulu, they’re beautiful! What are they?”

  “Halkan water chameleons. Watch.” Sulu bent and flicked the water with his fingers. The chirping soared into a chorus of alarm, then fell to total silence. On each leaf, only a moss-green shimmer marked the places where the small lizards had been. “Pretty neat, huh?”

  “You’re going to raise lizards now?” Chekov ducked through the lianas and stood looking dubiously down at the lily pond. “What’s the point of owning animals you can’t even see, much less play with?”

  “I like the noise they make. And, besides, you need them to pollinate the flowers.” Sulu dipped a hand into the pool to cup one of the translucent lilies in his palm. As soon as his fingers touched the petals, a pale firefly radiance sprang to life inside. After a moment, a shower of phosphorescent pollen puffed out from the heart of the flower. The tiny sparks settled across Sulu’s hand and glowed there briefly before winking out. “I’ve only seen these in books—they’re Halkan fire-lilies. I thought I’d add them to my plant collection.”

  “I’d like to know where—” A fierce crash from the front of the store interrupted Chekov’s question. The security officer spun around, then dove through the curtain of vines with Sulu and Uhura at his heels. They emerged from the screen of plants in time to see a figure in familiar dark red armor sweep a potted cycad off its stand. Ceramic shattered violently against the tile floor.

  “Hey!” A burly gray-haired man burst from a door in the side of the shop, holding a broom like a quarterstaff in his hands. He looked in disbelief at the heaps of dirt and trampled leaves on his floor, then up at the armored policeman. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The Orion turned his dark-visored face toward the shopkeeper, one gloved hand already curled around another plant. “Standard search procedure,” he said in a curt monotone, and sent the plant crashing to the ground.

  “The hell it is! This is the Federation!” The shopkeeper tried to shoulder between the Orion and his merchandise. Sulu drew a tense breath, seeing Chekov move to intervene. He dropped a restraining hand on the security officer’s shoulder just as the Orion flung the burly shopkeeper across the shop with the ease of someone used to a much higher gravity. The chirping from the back of the shop went silent with the crash.

  Chekov paused warily, an arm’s length from the Orion while Uhura darted forward to crouch beside the groaning shopkeeper. Sulu drew in a tense breath, watching the armored policeman turn to stare down at the slighter figure of the Enterprise’s security chief. “Chekov,” Sulu said softly, “just let me say three words before you decide to start something here—two Earth gravities.”

  “I remember.” The Russian’s left hand twitched behind his back, fingers clenching and unclenching twice. Sulu blinked and took a slow step backward. “Uhura, is the shopkeeper all right?”

  “It looks like he hit his head,” she said, sounding concerned.

  “Don’t worry about me.” The burly man levered himself up on one elbow as Sulu retreated another step. “Just go get station security. I want them to arrest this ape.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Chekov’s hand jerked again, and Sulu promptly yanked down a handful of lianas. He doubled the vines into a loop, then flung them up to catch around the Orion’s neck. The armored man grunted and tore away with a jerk, but in the brief moment that his hands were occupied, Chekov ducked forward to grab his phaser pistol from his belt. The security officer had to dive sideways to escape the Orion’s swift clutch, but he rolled and came up with the phaser pointed directly at the policeman’s chest. The Orion stiffened as if the joints of his suit had suddenly locked.

  “Get out of here,” Chekov ordered. “Now.”

  The Orion’s gloved hands twitched as if he wanted to grab for the phaser rifle slung across his back, but Chekov’s fierce stare—and steady grip on the phaser pistol—must have convinced him not to try it. With a wordless growl, he swung around and headed for the door.

  “Uhura, call station security.” Chekov rolled to his feet without taking his eyes off the retreating red-suited figure. “Tell them their Orion visitors are breaking station regulations down on Deck Five.”

  The communications officer nodded. “Of all times not to have a communicator with me. Where’s your station intercom?” she asked the shopkeeper.

  “I
nside my office.” The burly man jerked his chin at the door he’d come out of, then grunted and gingerly lifted a hand to his forehead. While Uhura scrambled up to look for the communicator panel, Sulu found a clean cloth near a plant-watering faucet, then came over to press it against the shopkeeper’s forehead.

  The man gave him a quick, tight smile. “Thanks. You folks handled that Orion real good—better than station security would have. I take it you’re from the starship that came into port the other day?”

  “That’s right.” Chekov still watched the door, the phaser pistol ready in his hand. “What’s wrong with your station security? They shouldn’t be letting Orions get away with this kind of behavior.”

  The shopkeeper sighed. “They weren’t this bad when they first hit port.” He heard the dubious noise Chekov made and grunted. “Well, they were rude, but they didn’t do anything this destructive. Just looked around the shop two or three times and left.”

  “What were they searching for?” Sulu asked, crouching back on his heels beside the older man.

  “Beats the hell out of me.” The shopkeeper sat up, wincing. “They said it was for Orion deserters, but that doesn’t make any sense. No Orion in his right mind would head for a station this deep in Andorian space. Not after that Haslev incident.”

  Chekov glanced over his shoulder. “Haslev incident?”

  “One of Andor’s genius physicists skipped out on its space research program a few months ago, taking some kind of top-secret technology with him. The Andorians seem to think the Orions had something to do with it. If you ask me, they’re both just spoiling for a fight.” The shopkeeper struggled to his feet, using Sulu’s shoulder as a prop. “Come on into my back room. I want to give you something for chasing that Orion out of here.”

  “You don’t have to,” Chekov assured him, tucking the Orion phaser discreetly into the pocket of his dark leather jacket. “It’s our job to enforce Starfleet regulations.”