The Condor docked, and Jerel Courtland headed immediately for the DelMonde palazzo. His transport was waiting, and it took him swiftly through Devona to the spacious estate that had housed Rigel’s rulers for generations.
As he got out and strode toward the main building, he noticed one of his guards standing just inside the huge wrought-iron gate that led to the gardened courtyard. Di’ilan was with him. He inclined his head questioningly, and the man shrugged as if to say he was only trying to keep peace. Di’ilan smiled.
“It’s good to have you home, Jerel.”
Courtland frowned at the whispered greeting from the Andorian woman. Di’ilan was his, and very willing, but he had no time for her now. She had been sent as a present for the Don, who had given her to his Consigliore. Courtland kept her for the prestige, and because it would not be wise for an Equian, even him, to appear to refuse such a gift. But he had little use for her.
“I’ll see you later, Di’ilan,” he told her curtly, and pushed her back toward the guard. “I have work. You know you’re not supposed to disturb me here.”
“But you’ve been gone so long,” she pouted, “and I missed you.”
He glanced at the guard, who mouthed the word ‘tantrum.’ With a tight sigh, he lowered his head slightly. Light gleamed off of his golden, spiraled horn. “Later, Di’ilan,” he repeated warningly.
Di’ilan stamped her foot, and Courtland reached for the agonizer on his belt. The girl gasped, then scampered for the path that led to his apartments.
“Sorry, sir,” the guard said.
Courtland nodded and immediately forgot both him and Di’ilan, continuing on to the house. He concentrated on what he needed to tell the Don. His expression changed to an easy smile as he reached the small crowd of people who were waiting to see DelMonde. What he got back was mostly polite, concealed disdain - which would have disappeared if the Don had been present. He shrugged the condescending anger away. It was part of his job that he be looked on as a lackey, the Don’s pet and errand boy. That he was ‘alien’ helped the image. Still, it did take an effort sometimes to hold in the loathing. Not only was it insulting to him personally, but did these people really think the Don so foolish as to have a ‘pet and errand boy’ as Consigliore? Knowing that was precisely what the Don wanted them to think didn’t always help much.
He entered the anteroom of the Don’s office and checked the chronometer. He was early. He had plenty of time to organize all the data he had to present to the Don, in order of importance. Not to Rigel, not to urgency, but to Del’s own personal involvement. Which meant his hawk first. Along with Darius and the daughters of Senators Valley and Costain. Which would lead easily into a discussion of Kirk and the Intrepid. Then on to Draco and the interesting development on Caros and how it related to the Empire. And that would bring him to Halkan dylithium and Rigel’s present status and back full circle. He’d have to remember to pass along the Donna’s request that Del keep his newest lady in line. LiLing was beautiful, but too crafty for her own good. And Geoffrey’s schooling needed a better tutor.
He sighed, absently stroking along the base of his horn, smoothing his mane away from his forehead. It wasn’t an easy life he led. Secure, though, as long as he was loyal. And there wasn’t anything in this galaxy that could buy him away from the Don. He laughed silently. If it hadn’t been for Del, he’d still be a Rigellian Court pet. It had been Del who pushed him and pushed him, harder than even a pet should be pushed. He’d run; not to get away, but to get the necessary training and opportunity to slit the Prince’s throat. He had run to the Pirates, a loose organization that not even the best Imperial spies could penetrate. They were successful raiders of everything from dylithium to slave shipments, and most of them were aliens. He’d joined with little difficulty, and learned quickly. He rose quickly as well, by being completely ruthless and merciless and cunning. He touched his horn again. He’d had a little natural help, of course. In five years, he’d reached the captaincy of his own trader, and he’d started making plans to come after DelMonde. He hadn’t had to, though; DelMonde came after him. Del told him that he’d seen a man under the Equian pet, and the Equian needed to see him. And now that he had, he was perfectly within his rights to kill the princeling who’d pushed so damn hard.
Courtland chuckled again. The man certainly had balls. So he’d come to work for him, knowing it was the only was he could repay him. Del trusted him implicitly - after all, Courtland hadn’t killed him - and he returned the compliment. He never questioned the Don, and he had helped to make him the most powerful man in the Empire. Of course, no one but he and the Don and a few outsiders knew that, and that was part of the Don’s strength.
He glanced at the time again, then strode toward the polished double doors of the office. They opened instantly, their automatic sensor having identified him the moment he’d entered the anteroom.
He turned toward the guard stationed just inside those double doors and handed over his phaser, dagger, and agonizer, then turned again and stepped through the door.
“Jerel, you know that isn’t necessary,” the Don said.
“And you know I’ll always make the gesture, Don,” Courtland returned.
Don Noel DelMonde sat nearly sprawled in a dark leather chair, his booted feet resting on their heels, stretched out in front of him. He wore dark slacks and the traditional white brocade tunic of the Imperial royal line, but it wasn’t completely fastened. The small, gold, carved circle that was the symbol of Rigel hung visibly at his throat. The white contrasted sharply with everything else about him: tanned skin, dark hair, and the DelMonde eyes - deep, black obsidian, flashing cold or hot and always rock steady. A figure of power and elegance, and, if one thought to look for it, an almost uncomfortable curiosity. But his smile was warm and genuine, the touch that always put visitors - applicants, Senators, or royalty - at ease. His trademark.
His chair stood before a low, glass table, around which were other chairs, equally comfortable. He hated desks, he said they separated him from his guests. Another touch that made people lower their defenses. To his left was an expansive window that looked out on his terrace, but that couldn’t be seen from the outside. To his right, an impressive display of computer controls kept constant tab on nearly everything in the palazzo. And today, at his side, half-sitting on the arm of his chair, reclined LiLing, the latest addition to his harem. She was a gift from an influential regent on Terra’s Asian continent. She was thin, very beautiful, but haughty and cunning. She reminded Courtland of nothing so much as a pampered Siamese cat.
The Don noticed his gaze and nodded. He sat up a bit straighter and gently edged LiLing from the chair. “Go on, Li,” he said. “Mr. Courtland and I have business to discuss.”
She stretched, then bent down to kiss him. “Del, can I have that bracelet?” she murmured.
He smiled at her. “Yes. Now go on.”
She squealed delightedly and kissed him again. She nodded a cool good-bye to Courtland as she passed him, gliding across the room and up the spiral staircase that stood in one corner and led to one of the Don’s many bedrooms.
Courtland turned from watching her. The Don was still smiling. “The Donna is concerned over your attention to her, Don,” he said, with enough rebuke to inform the Don as to how seriously his wife felt.
DelMonde motioned for him to sit. “Tell Jade not to worry, LiLing doesn’t have any hold over me.”
“She is upset not at her supposed hold, but at her presumption concerning displays to the other ladies,” Courtland clarified.
Del nodded. “It’ll be taken care of.” Courtland sat, and Del again relaxed. “How was your trip, Jerel?”
“Profitable. I had time to meet with Terlord Hasim.”
The Don grinned. “What did he accomplish on Darius?”
“More than he thought. The Enterprise’s Chief of Security is well, and apparently in enough of an advantageous position to indulge his hobby.”
“Hasim thought Sulu was Kirk’s?”
“Hasim thought Sulu an unimportant disciplinarian and executioner.”
Del laughed. “Good, very good.”
“Sulu also sent his regards.”
“I’ll return them as soon as I can.” Del smiled wistfully for a moment, then looked again at Courtland. “His latest conquests?” he asked.
“The daughters of Senator Valley and Senator Costain.”
“They were given to Kirk, weren’t they?” Del mused silently for a moment. “How did he let Sulu have them?”
“They attempted to escape him while on Darius,” Courtland replied. “They ran.”
Del frowned at that. “So the Senators aren’t as owned as Kirk thinks.”
“That isn’t what other sources indicate.” Courtland waited for the implications to form in the Don’s mind. He could easily formulate what they would be. He knew how the Don thought. If the daughters’ actions were not out of defiance, what were they? A futile protest? Either way, hardly safe for them or their fathers. Kirk was a powerful enemy, and Valley and Costain knew that or they wouldn’t have offered favorite daughters as goodwill insurance. Therefore, the answer was neither defiance nor protest. With no further data, that was as far as the Don would take it. He seldom speculated without facts. “Hasim indicated that Kirk wasn’t as affected by the humiliation as he once would have been,” Courtland went on. “And that he did exhibit the women again before leaving Darius.”
Del sat up suddenly. “Kirk exhibited them?”
“Yes. And they are definitely conquests of your hawk.”
“Hmmm.” Courtland watched with calm awe as the Don’s eyes flashed with the rapid train of thought, filing mentally every possible end and reason. If one seemed most likely, he’d ask for nuances that might confirm or deny, and if deny, move on to the next theory. Courtland was more than content to wait; whatever the Don thought was most important had always proved, in the long run, to be precisely that.
DelMonde acknowledged Courtland’s patience with a quick glance, and let his thoughts continue. More data. If Kirk had exhibited them, he must have known about and agreed to the apparent insult. Why? To give the Senators a cover? To placate Senatorial egos? Kirk wouldn’t care about either. Yet there seemed no other reason to give them to Sulu, then display them again. Unless he knows. Sulu as Kirk’s tool? Very dangerous, Captain. If you know what he can do, how do you have the nerve to try and use him? He doesn’t love you. And if you don’t know, there’s no reason to give the women to him. Unless you don’t know and think he needs a bone now and then. Still, that’s a high status price to pay. But with a second exhibition... if played right, it would have been quite a coup. Del shook his head. There was an inconsistency there. “Did Kirk know?” he finally asked.
Courtland didn’t miss a beat. “Again, Don, from the little useful information Hasim provided, apparently not. Or if he did, it didn’t matter.”
“Not matter? To Kirk? Well, well.”
“Perhaps because they were still outwardly attentive to him.”
“What?” Del was surprised for a second time. Conflict, he thought quickly. Sulu doesn’t leave jobs half done. And he doesn’t parcel out captured souls to other men. “You mean they seemed whole, functional?” he asked.
Courtland answered warily. “Yes. Important?”
“Perhaps,” Del mused. Although right now, I don’t know how. It’s not Sulu’s style at all. He devours, he doesn’t snack. File it. It’s got to be sorted later, but there’s business to attend to. He shook his head, and spoke again. “What of Kirk’s woman?”
“Still Marlena Moreau,” Courtland replied. “She was with him every time Hasim saw him.”
“Spock?”
“Not always.”
“Sulu?”
“Only twice.”
“But Moreau, constantly.”
“He did seem to respect her, according to Hasim, Don.”
“Power games?”
“Minimal, especially when compared with Kirk’s reputation. Also, he asked Hasim specifically about ‘the Don’s Halkan deal.’”
Del nodded again. “Good, he caught it. Thank you, Jerel.”
Courtland nodded himself, pleasure lighting his usually taciturn features. Del settled back, thinking again, silent for several minutes. Only his woman. He respects her. Uncharacteristic. A good Don keeps a Consigliore with him if he’s not on home ground. Perhaps he had. His woman? No one would suspect. As no one really takes your vast intellect seriously, Jerel, my friend. An incomparable value, since those I deal with are sometimes less careful with you than they would be with me. Was Hasim less careful than he should’ve been? No doubt, since we learned nothing useful directly, and Kirk was unruffled. No power games, or none to speak of. Kirk was definitely unruffled. Well, Captain, it’s your move. He sat forward. “News on the Intrepid?” he asked.
“Still on patrol guarding our precious shipyards,” Courtland answered, going easily with the change of subject. “From a maximum distance. And engaging in very profitable raiding of the mines and settlements on our outer planets.” Courtland grimaced in annoyance. “Protecting us from ‘potential’ troublemakers.”
“How very Imperial,” Del rejoined dryly. “I assume some of their profits are being funneled to Kirk?”
Courtland nodded. “Kirk’s becoming a very rich man. But then, it takes a great many credits to even think about starting a rebellion.”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” the Don answered blandly. “But Vulcans can’t be bought, not easily. Captain Sesek is allied with Kirk for a better reason that credits.” The implication is that Vulcan itself silently approves of the Enterprise’s intentions. And if that’s so, I’ll have to talk more extensively to them. “Have Sumer called home,” he said to Courtland. “The shipyards can do without him for a while.” Courtland nodded, making a note. “And the Artemis,” Del rejoined, “while we’re counting starships?”
Courtland smiled broadly. “A very interesting problem in logistics for Captain O’Niall. The Draco world, Caros.”
“The threatened revolt,” Del said.
“And the Enterprise sent to quash it.”
“They can hardly do that,” Del said, his eyes twinkling even though his face was concerned. “It’s a beautiful trap.”
“A double trap, although the Empire doesn’t know it,” Courtland agreed, his voice tremulous with controlled laughter. “Proof that they aren’t infallible, as if we didn’t already know that.”
“You don’t trust Kirk, do you, Jerel?” the Don said, amused.
“Not for a moment, with all respect, Don.”
“And neither will Captain O’Niall. It will be very bad for Draco if they lose her.”
“Agreed, but better for us if we learn Kirk’s true intentions before we're committed.”
“True,” Del admitted. “There’s nothing we can do in this except wait for the outcome. I would love to see how he gets out of it, though.”
“You’re sure he will?”
“You forget who his Security Chief is.”
Courtland nodded concession, and moved on to other things. “The Halkan shipment arrived on the Condor with no trouble. Captain Mrraal expects no difficulty with the neuterium next month. He’s been watched a little more closely by the Empire, but nothing he can’t shake if he has to.”
Del nodded thoughtfully. Jerel’s Pirate cohorts were more than useful. He gave silent thanks for the skills they’d taught his Consigliore, and also for the ties his Consigliore had brought back. A delicate gamble, and, like all of his risks, for the highest stakes: all or nothing. He’d gotten all. Just like his hawk. He smiled to himself at the imagery that came to him. Jerel was his unicorn in more than certain physical characteristics.
“And with that,” Courtland continued, “our reserves will be up to twenty shuttle-size capability.”
“If we could find a way to give shuttles warp power,” Del added ruefully. “It might help if the Empire didn’t keep such a close watch on our engineers.” He paused for a moment. “Why don’t you arrange for Thompson to have a fatal accident,” he suggested in the same rueful tone, “then find a nice, private place for him to work. Maybe he’ll come up with something.” He paused, then added with mock gravity, “And with Sumer on Vulcan, production of Imperial ships will be unavoidably slowed.”
“But not so as to arouse suspicion,” Courtland returned, then whinnied, the Equian equivalent of laughter. “I’ll arrange it, Don.”
Del smiled. Jerel would run everything quite smoothly, as always. He was about to ask about the latest report from Col Dallas when the intercom on the table before him signaled abruptly. Without pause, Courtland leaned over, answering it.
“Courtland here.”
There was a pause, then Hasim’s voice, strained and cautious, a touch disdainful. “The Don, please, Consigliore.”
“For what reason, Terlord?” Courtland replied, his tone admirably respectful. “If I can be of service, I see no reason to disturb Don DelMonde.”
“This matter is too important for an Eq--” The voice halted just short of the insult. “I need to discuss this directly with the Don.”
“Important, Terlord? All the more reason to inform me.” The respect was edged, but still calm.
“I was contacted by the Senate, and Senator Valley in particular, regarding an appointment.” Hasim’s voice was tight and irritable. “Now let me speak with the Don.”
“What appointment, Terlord?”
Del nodded approval at Courtland’s continued patience. He knew how angry Jerel was. How fortunate for Mouli that a communications system separated him from that lethal, golden horn. Yet the fury remained absent from Courtland’s voice. There was only courtesy, deferment, a humble acceptance of every insult. The manner Del himself was famous for. But he knew Jerel, like himself, would someday pay back every offense. And Mouli was a fool.
“A planetary governorship,” Hasim said, even more tightly than before.
“Of?” Courtland prompted.
“It’s the Don’s business, Courtland!”
“Yes, Terlord. And so mine. Is this governorship distressing to you in some way?”
“Caros!” The word was spat contemptuously, and Courtland’s eyes lost their glacial rage. He glanced significantly at Del. Del nodded.
“Go ahead, Terlord,” the Don said quietly.
Hasim’s swallow could be heard clearly, and when he spoke again, his voice was subdued and tinged with fear. “I meant no offense, Consigliore, but this is urgent.”
“Understood,” Del replied. “What was Senator Valley’s role in this?”
“He wanted me to know who was responsible for my nomination.” Del knew by the hesitancy in Hasim’s voice that the significance of who had answered his apology was not lost on the Terlord.
“Which was?” he asked.
“He, and Senator Costain.”
The Don sat back in silent appraisal. Valley and Costain. Which meant Kirk had requested it. Kirk, request Hasim, after Darius? Why? It’s Caros, he has to find a way out - if he’s sincere about a rebellion. But why a new governor? For Draco. That’s the only consideration he has that would keep him from simply obeying Imperial orders. But wouldn’t a new governor be just as repressive? Not if he was one Kirk knew would be sympathetic to Draco concerns. How does he know Hasim is? Hasim is Rigellian. Which means he knows Rigel is. Has O’Niall told him? She wouldn’t trust him. His own overture via Courtland and Halkan? That’s too much of a return gesture for only that. Then how.... Sulu. Del smiled and caught Courtland’s eyes.
“This has the touch of a hawk, Jerel,” he said.
“My thought precisely, Don,” Courtland returned. “A gift or an affirmation?”
“Perhaps both.” Del leaned forward again, and spoke to Hasim. “Accept it, Terlord, with all due gratitude. I’m certain a man of your capabilities can handle a governorship.”
“Yes, Don,” Hasim replied, his tone obviously flattered. “Thank you, Don.”
“You’re more than welcome, Terlord. Or should I say Governor? DelMonde out.” Del settled back once more.
“I believe this takes care of several things,” Courtland said. “Caros, Kirk, the state of our alliance with Draco, and our negotiating position with the Enterprise. And, of course, the status of Mr. Sulu.”
“Yes,” Del replied with satisfaction. Courtland moved on to other subjects, the Donna and her enmity toward LiLing, justified and soon to be taken care of. He brought up Geoffrey and the suggestion that the tutor of the Don’s son needed replacing. He was getting suspicious of the lack of Imperial puppetry being taught the boy. Del listened, commented, gave instructions, but only half his attention was on Courtland. The other half was parsecs away. Sulu. Dear, beloved, hawk. It’s been ten years since Tarkus, and I’ve never once tried to test him. Unless he perceived my sending him the necklace as a test. He smiled to himself, remembering that Sulu had, in return, sent him a well-padded, leather glove. If that had been a test, they had both passed it with flying colors. Now I know I had no need to. My hawk, and the prey he brings me is a starship. Not just one, but the Intrepid and the Artemis as well. I never offered and he never refused. But then, he never offered and I never refused. Thank you, Sulu.
“Captain,” Dallas said softly as he shook her slightly.
Illyana sat up, startled but instantly alert. “Wonderful security I’ve got,” she growled.
Dallas shrugged. “Since we slept together, Meran thought... but then, of course, you don’t pay him to think.”
“Right,” Yana said tersely as she slid from the bed and pulled on a wine-colored satin robe. Dallas gazed at her; appreciatively, she noticed, and she said, dryly, “You have some news, mister?”
“About Caros.”
The tension that had been momentarily absent from her eyes returned. “Good news,” Dallas continued hastily, “for everyone. Our sources on Terra report that Terlord Hasim has just accepted the Senate’s nomination to the governorship of Caros.”
“What? Hasim? Kirk couldn’t...”
“He apparently did. Valley and Costain were the nominators.”
Illyana began pacing. What does it mean? Kirk’s sincere, that’s what. He wants an alliance, a real one. But how did he know to choose a Rigellian? Has he been talking to them? Why didn’t the Don tell us! She whirled, sudden fear in her eyes. “Is Hasim still the Don’s?” she demanded.
“Illyana, Hasim doesn’t breathe without the Don’s express permission,” Dallas soothed.
“You’ll forgive me if I’d rather hear that from him?” she sneered.
Dallas’ face hardened, but he nodded. “I’ll make the contact for you, Captain.”
“You do that.”
Dallas saluted and left the room. Illyana hurriedly dressed, running cold water over her face. She was too nervous to hope. If Kirk was - James T. Kirk, best captain in Fleet, most dangerous, on her side! Working with her! No, don’t bet on it. But if it’s true... Please, gods let it be... don’t tempt fate, either. But James T...
Her com signaled and she answered it. “That call you wanted, ma’am,” Dallas’ voice said tersely.
“Good.” Illyana turned expectantly to the screen. “Mr. Courtland...” she began.
“Sorry, Captain, will I do?”
Illyana registered the voice before she registered the handsome face that appeared on her screen. A rich sound, deeply melodic, warmly amused, as sensual as the mouth it came from. The Don. Noel DelMonde himself. She stammered inarticulately for a moment, then closed her eyes, composing herself.
“You honor me, Don,” she finally managed.
“Nonsense, Captain O’Niall,” he said. “You wanted confirmation from me. I’m only too happy to give it. Terlord Hasim has my full support in this move. I’m glad to be able to be of service to Draco. To repay her loyalty to Rigel in this small way is hardly enough, but it is something.” He paused. “I hope your - endeavor - with the Enterprise is as rewarding.”
Illyana smiled. She knew an order when she heard one. Besides, what woman, even a wary, intelligent, level-headed woman such as herself could refuse that vision of dark, sensual power anything? “Of course, Don,” she returned graciously. “Thank you for your concern. Is there any way I can be of service to you?”
The Don’s eyes twinkled devilishly. “Perhaps at some opportune time, when you’re not millions of miles away, Illyana. DelMonde out.”
Illyana never shivered, but as the image of the Don faded, she found herself doing just that. Then the relief hit her. James T had gotten out of it. She was out of it. Draco’s honor needn’t be avenged, she needn’t tip her hand to the Empire. The paper alliance with Rigel was now stone, and she had James T as an ally! She called the Bridge, barely able to keep the joy out of her voice, and told Dallas to contact the Enterprise, then report to her quarters. There was a bottle of champagne she’d been saving.
Kirk sat in the con on the Bridge, still not quite able to believe it. It had worked. Caros had been settled without a single phaser blast, except the one necessary to exterminate former Governor Lawrence. Hasim had been appointed, Draco was appeased, the revolt has been neatly averted. Imperial orders had been followed, there was nothing to fear there. It had really worked!
He glanced around the Bridge. His officers were the best in Fleet, hand-picked and well trained, strong, intelligent. How, then, could they be so stupid? Such a simple thing, this careful, well-thought, patient subtlety, and so effective. How could it be it had never been thought of? There was much to be gained, more than with the usual Imperial methods. Had he crushed Caros, even without the damage to the Draco alliance, what would he have had? Booty, a moment’s status. And even without Draco, using this new form of strategy, he had the same, and a small favor that could someday be redeemed. It was stupid, really stupid to make enmity when you could make indebtedness. Enemies fear, and fear was sweet. But so do debtors, and a debtor’s fear is of what his own actions may cause. A debtor can be sure that if he lives up to his obligations, the creditor is no threat. It puts the pressure on him.
And I never could stand pressure.
Kirk stifled the delighted grin. It was stupid to give away any more than you had to as well. Wasn’t it delicious to keep Hasim as a finale? Every bit as good as calling the shots beforehand. Subtlety. Why, how hadn’t it ever been used before? Men do stupid things out of hatred. Isn’t it absurd to deliberately cause hatred then? Gods, I don’t like feeling stupid.
You can’t help it, it’s a stupid universe.
It is, isn’t it? And the way to power is to be smarter than anyone else. Brashness isn’t smart. It achieves the goal, but if there’s a smarter way... And there is, you know it now. It works!
He gazed almost fondly at the Science station and Spock. He had brought the Vulcan up through the ranks with him as a shield for his back because Spock didn’t want his job. Despite what Vulcan might think, the son of Sarek never wanted a command. But Spock had wanted the security that a captain who trusted him could bring. They had helped each other before they’d known what helping was, though their reasons were hardly altruistic.
And now we’ll help each other even when it means risking a little ourselves, because it works, you son-of-a-bitch! We really can rule. Emperor and minister, equal but for the title. And Empress Marlena. She’ll like that. It will be a benevolent rule, using subtlety and trust instead of fear and rashness.
That brought his thoughts to Sulu. The Security Chief was a nice ace to have, a more than competent executioner - but dangerous. Terribly dangerous because he was rash. He’d kill anyone who crossed him, just simply walk up to them and blast. He might die too, but that wouldn’t matter much to his victim.
Rash. As rash as I’ve been the past week.
The thought caused Kirk to grimace. What’s your opinion of Sulu’s intelligence?
How intelligent is a peacock?
He didn’t like that thought at all, didn’t like thinking that he had been that stupid himself. Yet, it was stupid to risk potential, stupid to act out of anger. The Federation women could be the key to their ultimate success, and he had tried to destroy them out of foolish anger and petty insult. What did it matter, really, if they were Sulu’s, as long as Sulu belonged to him?
Old pride and conceit rose sharply within him. Yes, damnit, it matters!
Hold on. Why does it matter? What do you want them for?
To control, to use, to dominate.
And you still can, can’t you? What difference does it make if they react because of Imperial training or Sulu’s? And to take them from their trainer before they’re completely tame could end up with their bolting from their cage - or causing more damage than they’re worth - or dying in captivity. You want to use them. Be intelligent. Keep your cool. Think. Subtlety, patience, caution. The galaxy is yours if you’ve got the balls to take it... No, don’t take. Coax, and it will stay of its own free will.
Kirk turned at a signal from communications.
“Sir we are receiving a transmission from the Artemis. Captain O’Niall wishes to speak directly to you,” Lieutenant Holden reported.
Kirk noticed Spock’s nearly imperceptible nod, and grinned. “My office, Lieutenant,” he said.
“Aye, sir,” came the reply as he stood and strode purposefully toward the turbolift. The trip to his office took only seconds, and when his personal scrambler was operational, he signaled for the call.
“Yes, Captain O’Niall?” he said, as smoothly as he could.
The face of Illyana O’Niall was welcoming, admiring, and mildly suggestive. Her words were even sweeter.
“Dear, dear James T. Congratulations on Caros, from myself, Rigel, and Uncle Dmitris. Do you have any suggestions for your sister ship?”