STAR TREK: The Original Series - The Last Roundup Read online

  “Good for her. How bad was Alex?” he asked quietly.

  Scott shrugged. “Och, he’ll be fine for the most part. But let me say I’m glad we’re here if there’s any real trouble.”

  Julius was able to reach Lissan, who showed up by evening the next day. Kirk, who had agreed to let Julius do most of the talking but had insisted on being present, was champing at the bit but managed to restrain himself. Communications continued to be erratic, and Kirk knew it was by sheer luck that he hadn’t lost three crewmen, including his nephew, the first Huanni to attend Starfleet Academy, and one of his oldest, dearest friends.

  Lissan materialized in the Courtyard. “Good evening,” he said. “Julius, it is good to see you again. Alexander, let me express my pleasure that you are all right. Ah, and Captain. It is good to see you again as well. Julius has informed me of your communication difficulties. It’s rather embarrassing, but ... well, I’m afraid they’re not going to end any time soon.”

  “Why not?” Kirk said, before he could stop himself. Julius glared at him.

  “We are planning to reopen an old facility on the [104] other side of the planet,” Lissan continued. “You have inspired us with your colony, you see. We realized that we, too, could make use of Sanctuary.”

  “It was my understanding that you had given Sanctuary to us, freely, as a goodwill gesture,” Alex said.

  “And so we have! We will do nothing to hinder you, Alexander. You won’t even know we’re here.”

  “Well, it’s difficult not to know you’re here when your facility is interfering with our ability to communicate with anyone off world,” Kirk said. He was just going to ignore Julius. “What kind of facility are we talking about?”

  “Merely a resupply base for trading with various cargo ships.”

  “That accounts for the increase in subspace communication,” Julius said, as if it explained everything.

  “What about the problems in our communications?” Kirk pressed.

  “We have erected a shield over the trading facility, and it appears to be that which is interfering with your communications,” Lissan said.

  “A shield? To protect you from what?” Kirk continued.

  Lissan looked embarrassed. “Well, you see, Captain ... some people with whom we trade are ... one hates to say it ... not entirely trustworthy, and might attempt to take cargo on without paying for it. The shield prevents them from absconding with anything of value. They have to be let in and out, one at a time. There is no chance of anyone attempting a quick transport that way.”

  [105] It made sense, but there was still something wrong about the explanation to Kirk. Julius had given up trying to interrupt and now simply leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and an obvious, open scowl on his face. Alex leaned forward, clearly interested in following the discussion.

  “I see your predicament,” Kirk said, hoping to put the alien at ease.

  “Not everyone is as honest as the Federation and the Sanctuary colonists,” Lissan said generously.

  “Clearly you need this shield. Equally clearly, we need to communicate with our friends and families. Is there any way you can change the shield’s frequency so it doesn’t interfere with our signals?”

  Again, Lissan looked uncomfortable and apologetic. “Our technology is not nearly as advanced as yours. I regret to inform you that for now at least, we can only operate the shield on this specific frequency.”

  Keeping an open, honest expression on his face, Kirk spread his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. “It is my understanding that the reason you were willing to host this colony is to promote open exchange. Isn’t that right, Alex?”

  “Oh, yes!” Alex said eagerly. “We’d be happy to help you! It would be an honor to be able to assist our benefactors.”

  “We have a dozen or more highly skilled engineers, including one I can personally vouch for,” Kirk continued. “We’d be happy to send them over to your ... facility ... and make whatever adjustments are necessary.”

  “Captain, you and Alex are most generous,” Lissan [106] said warmly. “But you have set us a challenge, you see.”

  “You mean, this is something you want to do on your own?” Julius said before either Alex or Kirk could speak.

  “Precisely,” Lissan said. “You are an inspiration to our own scientists. We would like to tackle this problem ourselves.”

  “But it would be so much quicker if—” began Alex, but his brother interrupted him.

  “Come on, Alex! The Falorians have been so helpful to us in getting us Sanctuary and as Lissan says, we’ve been an inspiration to them. You don’t want to take the thrill of discovery away from them, do you?”

  “Please don’t,” Lissan said. “Trust us—when we are, how do you put it, at the end of our rope, we won’t hesitate to contact you! In the meantime, we will enjoy figuring this out on our own.”

  “How long will it be until you reach the end of your rope?” Kirk demanded.

  For the first time since Kirk had seen him, Lissan appeared to be caught offguard. “I really have no idea. I—”

  “Give me your best guess.”

  “A—a few weeks,” Lissan said.

  Kirk had more to say—a lot more. But Julius stepped forward quickly. “Then it’s settled,” Julius said firmly. “The Falorians will work it out on their own and they’ll ask for help if things don’t look promising. Thanks, Uncle Jim, Alex. Lissan, I do have some questions on the specifics of something. A word?”

  [107] The two walked away together, chatting quietly. Alex smiled. “Well, that problem is solved.”

  “I hope so,” Kirk said, but as he watched the alien and his nephew bow their heads together in close conversation, he had his doubts.

  “So,” Alexander said to his brother as they dined together late that night on leftover salad and pasta, “Everything is okay, isn’t it?”

  Julius sopped up some tomato sauce with his bread and popped it into his mouth. Chewing, he replied, “Oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. The Falorians aren’t as technologically advanced as we are, you know, so there are bound to be some glitches when they try something new.” He twirled spaghetti around his fork. “Plenty of time to help them out when they get stuck and ask for our help.”

  “I never would have thought about it that way,” Alex said. “But I suppose that’s part of diplomacy, isn’t it? Helping the other species save face.”

  “They’re a good people, but are a little embarrassed about their personal lack of technology,” Julius said facilely, pouring his third glass of robust red wine. “It’s best to let them try everything they can first.”

  “You’re right, as usual,” smiled Alex. “You really do know these people well, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Julius. “I do.”

  That night, as he lay in bed, Julius couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, alternately sweating and chilled. It had been close, today. Far too close for comfort. [108] Alex could have died out there, and the Falorians hadn’t said anything to Julius about jamming their communications.

  He knew their messages were being monitored, of course. They had been since the beginning, but earlier, at least, Lissan and his cohorts had been very careful to disguise it. If Kirk hadn’t brought that Russian along on the trip, Julius doubted if it would ever have been detected.

  Damn Kirk! Always getting in the way, always acting so smug and superior with his “Starfleet does it this way” attitude. Well, I’ve got news for you, Uncle Jim. You’re not in Starfleet anymore. You’re out here, in the wilderness, all alone.

  Julius groped for the cup of water on the bedside table and downed a large gulp. He badly wanted something alcoholic, but was smart enough to know that he’d drunk enough at dinner and would be feeling it if he didn’t switch to water.

  Lying back down on the pillow, he thought about his childhood and Kirk’s part—or lack of a part—in it. Alex hadn’t lied to Kirk about their boyhood with the Pearsons, but he hadn�
�t told him everything, either. There had been no abuse, as far as it went. Neither foster parent had laid a hand on them. But they hadn’t needed to in order to break them sufficiently.

  They left the boys alone almost all the time. They ignored Alex and Julius when they could, said sharp, cruel things to them when they couldn’t. Alex tried everything to get the Pearsons’ attention and love: taking good care of Julius, earning excellent grades, taking [109] on odd jobs. Nothing worked. Julius’s tactics, which consisted of cutting classes, getting into trouble, and offering what Mrs. Pearson called “sassy backtalk” did get attention, but the wrong kind.

  Alex had made the meals and told Julius bedtime stories. Alex had protected him from the bullies, and helped him with his homework. Alex had listened with a loving smile when Julius went through agonies about which little girl liked him and which didn’t. Alex was the sun around which Julius revolved.

  And every now and then, their Uncle Jim would show up. He was a kindly, but distant presence. He often brought gifts that served only to show how little he knew what his nephews were interested in. Julius hated him, because he knew—he knew—that life with Uncle Jim raising them would be sweeter and happier than life with the Pearsons, and Uncle Jim never offered to take them away and care for them.

  Alexander had a forgiving nature, and he never blamed Uncle Jim for not saving them. He’s a starship captain, Juley. They can’t have kids on starships.

  But Julius never forgot, nor forgave. And now Uncle Jim was here. Damn the Falorians! Why had they made that the deal-breaker?

  He’d done everything they wanted. Even served some time in a pretty bad alien prison getting the things they had asked for. A few times, he’d try to talk to other species about colonies, but those were all dead ends.

  He reached for the water again. He was getting the shakes just thinking about some of the places he’d been. Places he had willingly gone into for Alex’s sake, places [110] that Alex would have died rather than have Julius enter.

  Gunrunner. Though the weapons to which the name referred were obsolete, the name had stuck through the centuries. It had sounded exciting, romantic, and as far away from anything the Pearsons represented as it was possible to get. And at first, it had been fun.

  Why the hell had he gotten involved with the Orion Syndicate? The answer came back, because they were the only ones who could get me what I wanted—a colony for Alexander. Looking back on it, he could see each step down that dark path had led him to the next, and the next. He couldn’t believe he was now trading in illegal weapons and information when the goal had been to found a colony of peace and technology.

  God, if Alex ever found out. ...

  Julius reached again for the water and this time knocked it over. He swore, grabbed a towel, and began mopping it up. He realized he was shaking.

  He kept replaying the conversation he’d had with Lissan today. What the hell is going on? he had demanded, forcing a smile so false his mouth hurt. My brother almost got killed today! And what kind of facility is really going up? You said nothing about that!

  Lissan had looked at him with those large, cold eyes, devoid of any emotion save perhaps a flicker of amusement. The danger to which your brother was exposed was not intended.

  It damn well better not have been. I won’t budge on that. No harm comes to Alex, and he never knows about us. He was not the best of liars and he knew it, and it was a real struggle to appear to be having a pleasant chat [111] with this alien when he really wanted to rip his throat out. But the appearance must be maintained. ...

  What is going on with this facility?

  Lissan had smiled. The less you know, the better.

  Julius swore an old, ugly Anglo-Saxon word. I got you everything you wanted. Weapons. Information. Technology. Even Kirk, damn it. I gave my own uncle to you. I have to know what’s going on.

  Lissan’s unpleasant smile had widened. No you don’t, Julius. No you don’t.

  And Lissan had stepped away, ending the conversation. Julius had stared. To follow him and pursue it would have tipped Kirk off. Alex, bless him, wouldn’t have noticed, but Kirk would. Kirk would.

  Julius didn’t know what this mysterious facility was really for, but from what he knew of the Falorians and their goals, he knew its purpose wouldn’t be that of innocently catering to trading vessels.

  He had finally thought himself safe for the first time in his life. Safe and sound at last, on Sanctuary, with his brother. He’d sold his soul to pursue Alex’s dream for him, and damn it, that ought to have been enough.

  But it wasn’t.

  Julius Kirk didn’t fall asleep until the small hours of the morning, and when he did, he dreamed of Alexander looking at him with sorrowful disillusionment in his eyes just before a cackling Lissan, firing the very weapons Julius had obtained for him, killed them both.

  Chapter Ten

  THE REPRESENTATIVE of the Orion Syndicate known to Lissan only as 858 looked around speculatively at the spartan quarters that served as a conference room. There was only a single desk covered with padds and a computer, two chairs, and a dented old box shoved into a corner. His green lips-curved in a smile that was more condescending than appreciative.

  “Nice place,” he said, and Lissan could hear the sarcasm in the words.

  “It suffices,” he said, his voice clipped.

  “Aren’t you going to offer me anything to drink? A little local delicacy to snack on, perhaps?”

  “No,” Lissan said.

  “All right then. Let’s get to business.” He leaned forward and the humor had vanished. “You’re behind schedule.”

  “It’s been unavoidable,” Lissan replied.

  858 sighed. “You’ve been telling us that for too long already.”

  [113] “It was the Syndicate’s idea to have Captain Kirk come along,” Lissan reminded him. “He’s been nothing but trouble.”

  The dark, steady gaze of the Orion male was unsettling. “Let us hope,” 858 said softly, “that he does not suspect. Otherwise, you are going to be in a great deal of trouble.”

  As if we weren’t already, Lissan thought sourly.

  “Kirk doesn’t suspect because we have been as cautious as we have,” Lissan said. Even as he uttered the words, he knew they were a lie. Kirk suspected something, all right. Julius had promised he’d be able to keep his uncle under control, but clearly this James T. Kirk was more than anyone had bargained for. Pushing as hard as he had for getting the “communications problem” solved. ...

  “We are too close to success for us to risk being discovered before we are ready.”

  “But, Lissan, old friend,” 858 said in a falsely comradely voice, “when are you going to be ready? We’ve been very patient. We’ve waited years, now, without seeing a single payment. But patience does run out.”

  The words sent shivers across Lissan’s body, but he kept his face neutral. He was grateful for so many centuries of stoicism. A Huanni would be a blubbering heap right now.

  He decided to play the Orion’s own game. “We are very grateful for all your help and your remarkable patience,” he said, forcing his voice to sound as sincere as possible. “But you must admit, when you will be paid, it will be quite the treasure for something that [114] required relatively little effort from the Syndicate.”

  “It is the value of that treasure,” 858 agreed silkily, “that made us agree to be paid later rather than sooner.”

  Lissan’s mind raced. There was still so much to be done before they were ready, and yet 858 was quite right about one thing: Time was running out. The window of opportunity, which had yawned so wide for such a long time, was closing rapidly. All depended on them leaping through that window while they still could.

  He decided to go on the offensive. “Part of the reason that time is so short is because the Syndicate failed to keep Huan out of the Federation. That’s made everything incredibly difficult.”

  “The Syndicate agreed to do what it could,” 858 said i
cily. “It did. The problem is yours, not ours. Our problem is, we need a timetable from you. And it needs to be a timetable we agree with. When can we begin?”

  “We still have so much—”

  “You know,” 858 interrupted, a green hand reaching down to his waist, “I really wasn’t the best contact for this job. I don’t have a lot of patience, personally. And I have to be frank with you, Lissan. I need a specific and firm date. And if I don’t come out of this meeting with one, you don’t come out of this meeting at all.”

  In his long green fingers was a small disk, with an opening aimed directly at Lissan. He didn’t recognize the weapon at all, but that was hardly surprising. Of course, agents of the Syndicate would be equipped with the latest technology that could be bought or stolen.

  “You’re bluffing,” he stammered, then looked up from the weapon to 858’s cold eyes.

  [115] The Orion wasn’t bluffing.

  “A date,” 858 repeated, softly.

  “Two months,” blurted Lissan.

  Almost sorrowfully, 858 shook his black head. “Not good enough, I’m afraid.” His thumb moved.

  “One month!”

  The thumb paused a millimeter from a red button. “Two weeks.”

  “Yes, all right, two weeks, curse you!”

  858 smiled pleasantly. The little weapon vanished into the folds of his clothes. “I do so enjoy the give and take of negotiation.”

  Kirk hadn’t served in Starfleet for as long as he had without learning when to trust and when to be suspicious. And right now, he was suspicious.

  He voiced his concerns only to his old, trusted friends. Alex was a good man, clearly, but the colony was his baby. And Julius ... there was something about Julius that Kirk didn’t like, something that went deeper than the obvious resentment of perceived past neglect. Skalli was Starfleet, but Skalli was also ... well ... Skalli.

  The old comrades met each day for lunch. With their history, that wouldn’t be noticed, but any more frequent encounters might. Spring was giving way to summer, and Kirk knew of a few places where they could dine al fresco and not be observed.