Star Trek The Original Series - 51 - The Lost Years by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780671707958
Publisher: Star Trek
Published: 1989-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

In the gloomy low-ceilinged hallway just outside the Mari Council Chamber, Ciana spoke softly into Kirk’s ear. “I guess this is my big chance to see the famed Kirk instinct in action.”

She was half-smiling, but it was a brittle smile, and Kirk heard the slight edge of bitterness in her tone, though she clearly did her best to hide it. He knew that Lori was used to being the expert, the one who showed others how it was done; now she was having to sit back and learn from someone else—who, all the more annoyingly, happened to be a grade lower in rank. Not that she had protested in the least; the Djanaiflnari society was strictly patriarchal, and Ciana herself had the good sense to suggest that, since Kirk was the male, he would be better received and should therefore do most of the talking.

“Let’s see how rusty it is after six months’ leave,” he said, for her sake trying not to appear overconfident. He drew in a deep breath. He wasn’t nervous, but he felt excited, on edge, exhilarated … and despite her apparent cool poise, he knew that Ciana did too. Her eyes were a little brighter, a little wider than normal, her speech a little faster, more clipped. After all, this was her big chance too. What had Nogura said?

Solve this one, Ciana, and & just might change that recommendation.

Kirk squared his shoulders and shot Ciana a glance. “Well, wish me luck, sir.”

“Break a leg, Jim,” she said, and smiled in earnest; and then: “Watch your head!”

He ducked just in time to avoid hitting his head on the low archway, and recovered well enough so that no one noticed—he hoped.

Since arriving on Djana, Kirk had been impressed with the advanced native technology—and the total lack of interest in art and design. The Inari Council Chamber was reminiscent of every other example of Djanai architecture Kirk had seen: small, circular, dimly lit, with a claustrophobically low ceiling that came within inches of Kirk’s head. There were no paintings, no colors anywhere save drab, dark earth tones. The furniture was nonexistent except for a low, crudely constructed table of dark wood that sat at the far end of the room. Its function, apparently, was to hold refreshments for the Council members.

The members themselves sat in a semicircle on the thickly padded floor, their orange-colored robes fanned out around them. Although no computer terminal was built into the room, each member carried with him what Kirk at first mistook for a notepad—but which no doubt accessed a central government computer.

As Kirk and Ciana entered, one of the Iliad, his arms crossed over his chest, rose and bowed low. “Vice Admiral Ciana, Admiral Kirk. I am Ruwe, spokesman for the Council.” He gestured to the open end of the circle. “Please, sit with us.”

Kirk and Ciana returned the well-rehearsed gesture, then lowered themselves to the floor. Ruwe picked up a flask from the floor, and, holding it in both hands, proffered it to Ciana.

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