THE OPEN DOORS revealed a large, high-ceilinged chamber. A long wooden table ran down the center of it. And sitting on the table was a young woman.
"Come in, gentlemen. Take a seat," she said.
Kirk chose a chair a few feet away from her, and his men filed in behind him and sat down. Tamara Angel pivoted to face them, hugging her knees up to her chest. She, too, was surprisingly young. She wore a military uniform. Her long black hair was coiled in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her radiant face wore an expression of amusement and confidence. Her boots beat a tattoo on the table.
"So, after arming our oppressors, and seeking to sabotage our revolution and our government, the beneficent Federation of Planets has decided to contact us. Which of you is called Captain Kirk?"
Kirk rose. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. We come in good faith, acknowledging that there have been differences between us, but in the hope that we can reach an understanding."
"You come to spy. And to manufacture propaganda for the Federation, which would have the galaxy think it means to deal fairly with us."
"Miss Angel …"
"You may call me Tamara." She flashed a mischievous smile, which Kirk could not penetrate. He instinctively knew that his own considerable ability to charm would be of no use here.
"Tamara." He decided to adopt a more authoritative tone. "As I say, we have come in good faith, and expected to be conducted to the ruling council of this planet. Instead, we were beamed down to an obscure area, found our way here on our own, and would now appreciate an interview with your superiors."
"I have no superiors," she replied blandly. "In the council we are all on equal footing. I am the minister of interplanetary relations. Whatever message the Federation has given you, you can relay to me."
"What other ministers are there?"
She sighed and counted on her fingers. "Minister of health, minister of public welfare, minister of relations with Boaco Eight, minister of finance, minister of justice, minister of education, minister of religion … we may create more if new situations call for it."
"And, of course, you're all elected very democratically, once you 'create' these ministries for yourselves," McCoy interjected.
Tamara Angel's face became harder. "We are leading our planet out of a time of chaos and war. Healing factions. Mobilizing massive drives against illiteracy, disease, crop failure, rabid animals, starvation. There is little time for us to go on the campaign trail." The sly smile returned. "Besides. The people of Boaco Six are used to old-style government. Like that of your old friends, Anator, Markor, and Puil, our former rulers who you did such good business with. No one here has yet heard of democracy. Perhaps sometime soon they will learn, and we can have elections."
"Once you've brainwashed them all to support you!" Michaels burst out. The ensign was out of line, but Kirk did not rebuke him. After all, protocol never stopped McCoy from putting in his two cents.
It was Spock, who had been sitting beside Kirk silently, who now steered the conversation in a more constructive direction. He rose. "Tamara. You accuse us of spying. Yet the only way we can possibly build trust and understanding is if you let us learn more about you. It would do your government no harm if you let us observe the changes you have made that you are so proud of."
Tamara Angel gave a curt nod. "Yes. We let you beam down to the outskirts of our city so that you could get a sense of the people of Boaco Six. This is our capital city, Boa. It is the largest city on this landmass. You may think it primitive, but it sprawls on for miles. Our people are changing, rebuilding it.
"To your Federation, our planet is just another number, another galactic pawn. A source of argea and other raw materials. To understand us, you must see how old and complex our culture is. And at the same time, how young we are. This is a revolution of youth. You see, for centuries"—she became tight-lipped, then continued—"the life expectancy here has not been very high. We are hoping to change that. But for now, it is a world for the young. Only the young can reshape an entire planet. Because they do not know the rules, they reinvent them."
Kirk was impressed by the intelligence and conviction with which she challenged him. The seeming irreverence she brought to affairs of state was matched by an absolute belief in the justice of her cause.
"Well, Captain," she said, "would you be willing to take the risk of hearing us out, learning our point of view?"
"We're eager to learn more about you. Perhaps a meeting with the entire council can be arranged?"
"You will meet more of the ministers tomorrow. They will show you around. And perhaps, in a few days, we can all meet together, yes?"
Kirk had instructions to spend as much as a week here, if it seemed advisable. The planet was so crucial, the issues in which it was involved so complex. "That makes sense," he said.
Spock observed his captain as they were escorted by the boy guard to a nearby bungalow to spend the night. A squat, ungainly building, it was covered with a matted thatch of leaves, which spilled down from the roof, along the outer walls. Once inside, Kirk scanned the room with his eyes, and stretched. He checked in with Mr. Scott, and with satisfaction tried the bolt on the door. He gave the impression of nonchalance, but Spock knew him well enough to detect a quiet uneasiness, doubtless due to the lack of phasers. Kirk felt his men were too vulnerable. Of course, he could have had new ones beamed down from the Enterprise, if only just for the night. The Boacans would never know. Yet Spock knew that Kirk would never do this. It would violate the captain's peculiar elaborate personal code of honor to do so; he wanted to win the Boacans' trust, and so could not even hoodwink them in secrecy.
McCoy was the one officially in charge of looking after the captain's physical and mental well-being. Yet for Spock, too, Kirk's health and state of mind were extremely important. Any danger or disturbance that Kirk fell victim to played upon the Vulcan's nerves as if they were harp strings. He knew he was too vigilant; worry was a contemptible human emotion. He rationalized it; after all, had he not used all his years among humans to study them, to try to understand the way they thought? And was not Jim Kirk an especially fine and complex human to observe, embodying every facet of the standard Terran personality, only much more so?
As first officer, was it not his official duty, as well as McCoy's, to be certain at all times that the captain was fit and safe and functioning at his best? Also, he reasoned, the empathy between his captain and himself was especially strong because a wisp of empathy always hangs between a telepath and one to whose mind he has been linked. And Spock had mindmelded with his captain on several occasions.
Spock watched Kirk now, watched him smoothly allay the fears of his men, so that they could relax and go to sleep. Young Michaels was haranguing him, in a manner which seemed to Spock a severe breach of discipline. Kirk checked the boy, gently but firmly. So confident was he about his position of command that he could keep the atmosphere loose and informal. The difference between us, thought Spock, who in command situations always went by the book.
"Why let her tell us what to do, Captain? Why let them deal with us so casually? It's so obvious that they deliberately set out to insult us. They must know how much is at stake here. They're testing us."
"I don't think an insult was intended, Michaels. They have no idea how to conduct these affairs. They're soldiers, not diplomats," Kirk said approvingly.
"But can't you see …"
"I can't see any point in discussing it further, Ensign. Get some sleep. I need you alert tomorrow, and with an open mind."
The security guards had the beds nearest the door. They asked the captain if they should take turns staying awake and standing guard. Kirk gave them a negative, told them to turn in. Spock thought it likely that he would order them to beam back up to the Enterprise in the morning. Jim seems to instinctively like this place, seems very relaxed here. Perhaps, after all, too relaxed. Fresh air, the warm night, the rich smell of the floor of the bungalow could, Spock knew, ease a human's guard, make him too trusting. There was a tendency among humans to see a planet at an early stage of development as a paradise: free, protective, and unspoilt. Such thinking was irrational. It was a thing to be watched against.
But the jingoism of Michaels was indeed trying. He lay on his cot, whispering, still arguing, spouting a line of thought currently very popular among Starfleet Academy cadets. "The Klingons have no final goal, they're insatiable, they'll stop at nothing. And little worlds like this, they don't know what they're doing, don't know what they're letting themselves in for. They buy arms from the Klingons—might as well sell their souls to the devil. Whatever problems there were here, whatever the old rulers were like, they must have been better than the new ones; these people are beyond our reasoning and beyond our help. They think they're fighting for freedom, and then their whole world will turn into a prison camp, and it happens over and over …"
The two security guards listened and nodded solemnly.
McCoy flicked a beetle off his blanket and propped himself up on one elbow. "What do you think of all this, Spock?"
"Of the new Boacan regime, Doctor? It is much too early to form a concrete opinion. What I have seen so far has struck me as positive."
The three young men, who conceived of the stoic Spock as the most conservative of officers, were obviously surprised to hear him speak this way.
"You think this revolution will turn out to be a good thing, sir?" Michaels asked.
"I didn't say that, Ensign. But I understand the scale of the ugliness and evil that were here before. The brutality, the waste, the utter disregard for life. And I understand the impulse to replace that bitter reality. No more can be said at this time."
Kirk lifted the large orange candle lighting the bungalow from its rickety table and blew it out.
"And with that, men, let's get some sleep."