Margeret Bonanno - Probe

McCoy shook his head. "They didn't want anyone to know what they looked like, but they left their forwarding address? It doesn't make sense."

"But the Exodus Hall records may not have been their

`forwarding address,' as you put it, Doctor. If you will recall, every destination so far identified has proven to be an unstable star, including many that later went nova, even supernova."

"And that surprises you? After the way those superKlingons did in the Probe's homeworld sun?"

"That sun neither went nova nor developed into a flare star, Dr. McCoy. That sun's output was decreased, not increased."

McCoy shrugged. "So they developed better, faster methods of extermination. They had more than two hundred thousand years to work on it."

"That is one possibility, Doctor. However, I tend toward the other: that the Exodus Hall records were meant as either a misdirection or a trap, more likely a trap."

"So now the Erisians are able to make a sun go nova at will? When they didn't even have the power to deflect an asteroid from their own homeworld?"

"As you yourself just now pointed out in regard to their pursuers, the Erisians had two hundred thousand years to develop their science, their weapons."

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Bones," Kirk put in when McCoy stalled out. "I've already put up every objection you have and more, and I've gotten nowhere. And believe me," he added, sobering, "there's nothing I'd like better than a believable and thoroughly mundane scenario, anything that doesn't involve either the Erisians or your super-Klingons going around setting off novas by the thousands."

"Captain Kirk." It was Lieutenant Kittay's voice from the bridge. "The Galtizh is hailing us. Commander Hiran-"

"Patch him through, Lieutenant."

A moment later, Hiran's face, touched by the barest trace of what struck Kirk as a wistful smile, appeared on the briefing-room viewer.

"Commander Hiran, what can I do for you?"

"As I recall, Federation captain, our tour of the Enterprise was never quite completed. . "

Instead of completing the tour, Kirk found himself repeating part of it, escorting Commander Hiran to the Enterprise's botanical gardens. This time, with no rehearsals and no Erisian ruins to occupy the civilians, it seemed that at least half of them, musicians and archaeologists alike, were wandering the paths and lounging on the benches. More than one pair of eyes was distracted by the sight of a Federation captain and a Romulan commander seemingly out for an afternoon stroll.

"If you would care to walk on the grass again," Kirk said with a smile, "I suppose it could be tolerated for a time."

A small laugh escaped Hiran's throat. "You remembered, Federation captain."

"Taking a walk through a garden with a Romulan starship commander is not something that is quickly or easily forgotten."

"That is true." Hiran looked around, triggering the averting of several civilian eyes. "I suspect few of our audience will forget it either."

"Particularly if it is a prelude to something of greater import," Kirk said quietly.

Hiran stopped on the bank of the stream that meandered through one corner of the garden, from the small waterfall in an alcove of one wall to the pond where

the recirculating pump pulled it back beneath the deck.

"You suspect me of wanting more than a few minutes in your decadent Federation garden, Kirk?"

"The thought had crossed my mind, Commander."

"And mine as well. Tiam would welcome my defection, I am sure. Otherwise I doubt that he would have stood by so calmly when I announced my intention to transport over."

"I was wondering about the lack of uproar."

"There was none, only a look-a hopeful look, if I was not mistaken."

Kirk nodded. "Doubtless he and Jenyu would do better in the Citadel with only their version of the mission to cope with."

"Doubtless. Which of course is one of the reasons I cannot stay, much as I might like."

"And the others? The other reasons?"

"I think you know, Federation captain. Our victory this time was tiny: there will not be a shooting war, no matter how much Jenyu and his backers desire it. Perhaps someday our victories will be larger."

"You feel there is still hope, then?"

"If I did not, I would not hesitate to join Dajan and his sister."

"In that case, I can only wish you well. And hope to speak with you again someday."

"Thank you, Federation captain. I have little doubt that you will-someday. Your Admiral Cartwright will someday be replaced." Hiran fell silent a moment, his eyes seeming to study the tiny, multicolored fish that darted and drifted through the stream at his feet. "And that replacement," he continued softly, "will need a source of information he can trust. As some of my

friends are fond of saying-censorship, is one of the things our Empires have in common."

A tingle brushed at Kirk's scalp. You know, he realized, but he left the thought unspoken. Instead, he smiled. "He certainly will, Commander."

Together, they made their way back to the 'lift.

EPILOGUE

fit.

The dingy labyrinth of corridors and workshops and dressing rooms was no more glamorous than the last time Uhura had found herself backstage at Lincoln Center Philharmonic Hall. Although, she mused wryly, the full-dress uniforms of all the senior officers of the Enterprise, not to mention the cobalt formalwear of Ambassador Riley, did lend a touch of color, even elegance, that had been absent before.

"Commander," Kirk said as he narrowly avoided collision with a young man racing along the corridor wearing a green tuxedo jacket while carrying the matching trousers gingerly over one arm, "are you positive this is a good idea?"

"Not really, Captain," Uhura admitted, "but a promise is a promise."

"At least," Sulu said with a grin, "you didn't promise

PROBE

to hold `Andy' Penalt's hand at the debut of his Probe concerto."

Uhura snorted discreetly. "If I were going to hold something of `Andy's,' it wouldn't be his hand-except, of course, in self-defense."

"Advance word in diplomatic circles," Riley volunteered, "is that there may not be a debut."

Sulu's grin broadened. "Now wouldn't that be a kick in the head."

"Do your diplomatic circles have any reasons to go along with the word?" Uhura wondered.

"The only ones I've heard were `flashy but conventional."'

"Like his playing." Uhura laughed.

"And like his public relations campaign," Riley added.

"Oh?" Uhura, Kirk, and McCoy joined in the onesyllable chorus.

Riley's eyebrows, both fully recovered from Temaris, rose in mock surprise. "And here I thought Starfleet officers prided themselves on keeping current with all aspects of Federation life and culture."

"Kevin!" Kirk shot him a dark look.

"I'll have a complete file squirted to the Enterprise computer if you want the details. Suffice it to say, he's been throwing around words like `derivative,' though he's stopped short of `plagiarism."'

"You're joking!" Uhura sounded genuinely outraged. "He is accusing Jandra and Dr. Benar of stealing? From whom? Not from him, I hope! That would be too much even for him!"

Riley shook his head. "From the Probe, he says. Those first two messages, the sounds the computer translated into `There is no danger' and `We will talk.' According to

Penalt, what they did was nothing more than `variations on a theme."'

Uhura's eyes flashed, but before she could say more, Sulu laughed. "He's just ticked off because he didn't think of it first," he said.

"And couldn't have done it if he had thought of it!" Uhura snapped.

"No doubt about it, Commander," Kirk agreed. "However, could you try to look a little less tense when we get to their dressing rooms? You said the idea was to show them a few friendly faces before they go on, not to make them wonder who just killed your cat."