“Gentlemen, I am open to suggestions,” Kirk said. He and Spock, McCoy, Sulu and Scotty were seated in the briefing room. His cheek had been bandaged, and Sulu boasted a broken wrist that McCoy said would be sore for a few days, but not much more.

“The most logical course of action would be to engage the captain of the Breakaway in another conversation,” Spock said, “since he was obviously somewhat less than truthful in your last discussion.”

“Do we know where the Breakaway is after this little detour?” Scott asked dubiously.

“The captain had me keep a trace on her, just in case,” Sulu replied.

“However, if we approach her,” Spock rejoined, “Coron will undoubtedly simply hide Lieutenant Valley and Ensign Majiir wherever he hid them before, if, indeed, he did hide them, and…”

“Send us off on another wild goose chase,” McCoy finished. Spock raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but Kirk cut him off.

“Don’t ask, Spock,” he said. He turned to Scotty. “Would using the Romulan cloak leave us with enough reserve power to get another tractor on the Breakaway?”

“Aye, sir, and with power to spare," Scotty replied proudly. “Jilla helped me to rig it so it wouldna be such a drain on the engines usin’ her father’s schematics, sir.” He shook his head. “I do hope the lasses are all right, Captain.”

Kirk grimaced. “So do I, Mr. Scott." At least one of them he, added privately.

“Sir,” Sulu put in, "wouldn’t using the tractor give Coron ample time to hide anything or anyone he wanted to hide? Our sensors can detect a tractor the second it locks on, even with no reduction in velocity. I know if I had as much warning, plus the time it takes for beaming across ships, unless a team were to beam exactly where I wanted to hide something, I’d get it done without a trace. We can’t assume a Haven trading vessel is going to be less efficient than that.”

“Could you really, Mr. Sulu?” Kirk asked, not sure whether to groan or grin.

“Absolutely, Captain.”

“Remind me of that next time we… never mind.” Scott was smiling conspiratorially and McCoy chuckled with appreciation. Spock only looked confused. Kirk shrugged. “So, Mr. Sulu, how do you suggest we get around this problem?”

“The obvious solution is to sneak upon them and beam aboard with no warning."

“Except, Lieutenant, that is highly illegal,” Spock reminded.

“So is slave-trading in Federation space,” McCoy muttered.

“If we find Miss Valley and Mrs. Majiir, they could hardly call Security on us,” Kirk conceded.

”But if we did not, we would find ourselves in a most difficult situation,” Spock interjected.

Kirk sighed, nodding. “Your opinions, gentlemen. Do we gamble?”

“I think it’s the only way to get the truth from Coron, Captain,” Sulu said. “Havens respect – ah – ingenuity.”

“Aye, I agree with the lad,” Scotty replied.

“What other choice do we have?” McCoy put in.

“Captain,” Uhura’s voice interrupted from the com. “You have a call from Babel.”

“Babel?” Kirk asked wearily.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be right there, Lieutenant.” Kirk turned to Spock. “Well, Mr. Spock?”

“The proposed course of action is extremely risky, Captain,” Spock replied. “However, as Dr. McCoy stated, we seem to have no other alternative if we are to complete this mission within any reasonable length of time, regardless of either legality or likelihood of success.”

Kirk nodded and got up from his chair. “Dismissed, gentlemen. Mr. Sulu, we’re tracking the Breakaway under Romulan cloak.”

“Aye, sir,” Sulu replied. Kirk walked out of the briefing room, Spock right behind him.

“Scotty," McCoy asked as they followed Kirk out, “did I really say all that?”

“I think so, Doctor,” Scott replied with a grin. “I think so.”

The face on the viewscreen was that of a middle-aged Indiian, his burgundy hair just beginning to darken with age. He had a neatly trimmed beard that Kirk thought must be the Indiian equivalent of salt-and-pepper, with cayenne replacing the salt. His grey eyes were like cold steel, his skin radiating his emotional angst. Kirk tried to look pleasant, confident and helpful. Ambassador Costain’s expression was anything but politic.

“Captain Kirk, I have received the official statement from Starfleet Command, which was so vague that I thought it necessary to contact you personally if I were to obtain any pertinent information,” he said without preliminary. “I am concerned primarily with the efforts being expended toward the location and safe recovery of my daughter, although I would appreciate an explanation of how such a dispossession came to occur in the first place.”

“Mr. Ambassador,” Kirk answered, “Let me reassure you that the entire resources of the Enterprise are being fully utilized to discover the whereabouts of Ensign Majiir and Lieutenant Valley, and once located, that much effort will be applied to their safe return.” He took a breath. “As far as what necessitated this action… What we have been able to discover so far is this: Miss Valley and Mrs. Majiir were abducted while on shore leave in civilian clothing, and were sold to slave-traders.” Kirk winced even before the outburst.

“Sold to slave traders!” The sheen from the Ambassador’s skin was blinding and Kirk found himself wondering if the automatic dimmer would kick in. “Captain, can you not have stricter security checks on planets you have chosen for the leave of your personnel?! Has your ship no security measures of its own?! That such a thing could happen on a Federation planet is unthinkable enough, but to Starfleet officers?! Explain this!!”

“I agree completely, Mr. Ambassador,” Kirk quickly rejoined. “The security measures on the base were shamefully lax.” And Hauser, complain about that statement to me later. It probably wasn’t even your fault. Ruth Valley could avoid the presence of God of she wanted to get away with something. A little thing like Security wouldn’t even cause her to blink – unless it was to charm them into letting her go. “I accept full responsibility for this occurrence, and your daughter will be found, sir, safe and well. I personally guarantee it.”

“And just how, Captain,” Costain growled, “am I to redeem this ‘personal guarantee’ should it become necessary?”

The screen went blank and Kirk dropped his head into his hands. Try a firing squad, Ambassador. I’m sure I’d prefer it.

“We’re in transporter range, sir, “ Sulu reported.

Kirk couldn’t believe it. Spock had been wrong. He kept quoting odds that they’d never manage to track the Breakaway successfully, never be able to follow her erratic course, never be able to get within transporter range without her picking them up. But they’d managed, all without a single mishap. Of course, Spock also insisted that they’d never get away with it, even if it worked. On that, he was probably right. Things couldn’t go that smoothly, not with Spock going against them. Not when it was Kirk against Valley.

He asked the ruling deity for the millionth time why he’d been singled out for this task, then got up from the con, instructing Sulu to keep the Enterprise with the Breakaway, no matter what. Then he got into the turbolift, more than half-expecting it to stall on the way to the transporter room. Standing on the disks with Spock, McCoy, and a well-equipped security team, he waited for Scotty to announce, ‘Transporter malfunction sir, I canna fix it for two days.’ The thought that he might end up on the deck of the I.S.S. Enterprise crossed his mind just as the beam took hold.

Coron was just starting his second pipe of Rigellian when eight shimmering figures appeared in his quarters, between him and his com. He nearly choked and reached for his weapon just as five were leveled on him. He decided not to find out if they were only set on stun.

Kirk smiled at him. “Now, Captain Coron, I’d like a little straight talk out of you, and I’d like it in a hurry. Deal.”

Coron stood. “Captain Kirk, I’ll have you up on every charge…”

“Fine. Deal.”

“I told you…”

“I’m out of patience, Coron.” The security team took a step closer.

“I sold them,” the Haven said quickly.

“Where and when?” Kirk demanded.

“Korion, two days ago.”

“Done, Captain?”

Coron closed his eyes. “Done,” he agreed heavily.

Kirk sighed in satisfaction. “Thank you, Captain,” he said. “And as far as those charges go – prove it.” Before Coron could move, the figures were disappearing in golden shimmer. He swore and his com signaled.

“Captain, we’ve intercepted…”

“No shit, Siodom.”

Korion was a protectorate of the Federation. Its government was feudal, its ruler an absolute monarch – but it was a planet rich in dylithium, and so the Prime Directive was applied with a careful amount of flexibility. Any dealings with the planet were conducted only through official court channels, and attendant with a great deal of pomp and ritualistic negotiations. The preliminary mediation went surprisingly well, and the current ruler, Jerik, agreed to entertain the concerns of the Federation Captain.

The Federation liaison assigned to Korion conducted an inquiry at the trading port. It was discovered that Lieutenant Valley and Ensign Majiir had indeed been auctioned there. The Lord of Korion had two new pets for his menagerie.

“Pets?” Spock queried.

“We’ll find out, “ Kirk answered grimly.

The impression was that of exotic cats curled at the throne of Jerik of Korion. Ruth Valley was lithe, elegant, and sensual, painted a tawny brown, her hair a wild mane of gold, her huge purple eyes lined in black. Jilla Majiir’s adornment suggested a playfully erotic kitten. Painted stripes of burgundy encircled her pale silver body, her thick burgundy hair was styled as a sleek cowl pulled back from her pointed ears. Jerik was stroking the back of the stretching, appreciative ‘lioness,’ while the ‘tiger-cub’ batted gently at the fingers that curved away from the arm of the throne.

Kirk had to swallow several times before he could speak. He heard McCoy bristling and saw Spock straighten in shocked surprise. He was also aware of Sulu’s sharp intake of breath and the hard swallowing that followed it. McCoy’s voice hissed in his ear.

“I can’t tell for sure at this distance, Jim, but painted up like that and with the size of their pupils, I’d say they’ve been drugged.”

“The United Federation of Planets honors us with your presence,” Jerik said. “I see you admire my pets. Come, gentlemen, enjoy them. They are quite tame.”

Kirk nodded at the questioning stares, and the four men hesitantly approached the throne.

“The little one may bite, but she is yet a kitten and she means no harm,” Jerik went on. “To her, it is all but play.”

Sulu glanced at Kirk, and reached out to stroke Jilla’s head. She mewed delightedly, and rolled to his touch. Her eyes closed blissfully, a deep purring sound starting in her throat. He looked up helplessly, and Kirk gave a falsely cheerful smile. “Lord Jerik says she’s tame, Lieutenant,” he said. Sulu nodded, understanding, and went back to petting Jilla.

Spock and McCoy knelt beside Ruth. They silently agreed on a proper tact, and Spock gently brushed his fingers under Ruth’s chin, his other hand resting lightly on her shoulder to hide McCoy’s medical scanner. Her eyes met his, the look in them sultry and full of pleasure. There was no intelligence behind those eyes, and no recognition. McCoy looked up, replacing the scanner in his belt, shaking his head. “Drugged all right,” he whispered. “I’ll check Mrs. Majiir, just to be sure.” He got up, smiling approvingly at Jerik.

“Indulge freely,” Jerik smiled back at him. “I just acquired them yesterday. They are quite beautiful, are they not?”

Kirk left Jilla and stood beside Jerik. "They are extremely lovely, Lord, and rare too. I don’t think I’ve seen their kind before.” Jerik seemed imminently pleased.

McCoy moved beside Sulu. “Cover my movements, Lieutenant,” he murmured. “I’m going to scan her metabolism for signs of drugs.” Sulu nodded. He scratched her stomach lightly, and she stretched under his hand so that his caress touched her breast. Sulu pulled back sharply and Jerik chuckled.

“She is an eager one,” he commented agreeably. “You have to watch her or she’ll have you enticed before you know it.” He turned to Spock. “That one is more subtle, but she is determined,” he said. “Once she has begun her blandishments, she doesn’t stop until she’s mounted.”

“Captain,” Spock began. “Surely you don’t…”

“I’m afraid we won’t have much time for that level of involvement, Commander,” Kirk cut in, then smiled, “but some small enjoyment isn’t out of order.”

One eyebrow raised, Spock returned his attention to Ruth, understanding Kirk’s indicated continuance of the charade. Kirk himself tried not to notice the way Ruth’s body was writhing against Spock’s hand.

Sulu hesitantly set to caressing Jilla again. She wriggled with wanton delight and it became impossible to avoid the more erogenous areas of her body. He had to focus of maintaining both the outward facade of interested enjoyment and inward reserve and caution. This wasn't some female animal, however much she was acting like one. But her painted skin was warm and silky under his touch, her every expression one of exquisite sensation and open desire. She arched her back, then flipped over, moving against him, her head rubbing against his stomach and chest, nuzzling, purring. He stroked her back helplessly, controlling the hunger that raced through him, bending his head down to hers. "Ensign!” he whispered fiercely in her ear. She raised her head, staring inquisitively at him. “Jilla!” he hissed. Something flickered in her eyes for a moment, but was quickly replaced by the soft, empty playfulness. Then she darted forward, her tongue licking at his lips. Need screamed in his veins and his hands came up to her head, ready to pull her into a deep, insistent kiss. He felt McCoy trying to pull her away while making it look an like an easy movement.

“Lieutenant, just what do you think you’re doing?” McCoy whispered urgently.

Sulu took a deep breath, calming the fire within him. “It’s not me, Doc,” he whispered back.

The tiger cub reveled in the attention of the strong smiling male. His touch felt good to her, soothing her. It sent shivers of desire through her body. She liked the feeling of desire. It was tingly and warm, an alive feeling, not like the cold lethargy she’d been in for so long. She could feel something within her struggling still against the warmth, and she quieted it. Relax, she said to it. Feel the excitement. This is good, this is soft and sweet and sating. Let it take you, let it fill you, it is good!

She pressed her head against the male, wanting to stimulate him. She purred at him, letting him know she liked his touch. He said something to her and she opened her eyes curiously. He spoke again, but the sound was not soothing. It was harsh, almost pleading….

She pushed it away, and forgot it in the fraction of a second it took for her to dismiss it. She leaned forward and tasted him and the flavor sent sudden fire through her. This one! she cried and her heart skipped then began thundering as he reached for her.

But other sounds came, angry, displeased sounds. Hands pulled at her, away from the touch that was light within her. She shifted her gaze – and froze. Images of metal and cold and a hissing noise filled her mind – an angry, agonized roar coupled with burning bitterness and urgent need – fear and pain and betrayal and she was turned away from the comforting touch. She shook her head, and began to growl.

The lioness writhed sensually under the touch of the male’s hand. It called forth cravings and hungers and the intensity helped to drown the panic that would neither come to the fore nor be banished. She sniffed eagerly at the scent of the male, her tongue moving over her lips in heady anticipation. She knew that smell, it tore sharply through her thoughts. It called sounds from deep in her throat, low, female, and unrelentingly urging. She had looked into the eyes of the male, and had seen the need, the animal buried deeply within him. She would arouse that animal, the sleek, olive panther that waited in the dark, powerful eyes.

Suddenly she became aware of the male turning from her as sounds and movements from the other side of the throne distracted him. She looked up. There was some commotion involving the little cub. The young she-tiger was growling a warning. Warning? At me?! She was a fully grown lioness! Foolish kitten, what is it you… Her thoughts stopped as she felt the panther leap against the restraint of the male.

Spock turned involuntarily at the growl from Jilla, The sound evoked images still fresh, and he shuddered at the feel of the animal, so recently loosed, within his being. Then he saw the look in her eyes. The thought flared in his mind, savage and menacing: My mate is in danger!

Jilla’s gaze turned to him, her need and fear crying to him. They took me from you!

The beast roared and leapt and Spock used all his control to keep it leashed.

Then Ruth reared up, baring her teeth and he knew she had felt it. He responded with sudden, fierce desire. Golden one…

He felt Jilla’s fury and realized that the animals were communicating independent of the sentient beings. He knew what would happen even before Jilla leapt.

Golden one!? The tigress screamed and launched her body at the female who dared try to take her mate. She knew now what she had struggled with. She had needed him, but he knelt beside the lioness! There was no hesitation. She would fight for her mate.

The lioness hissed, arching her body in preparation for the battle. He is yours, little one? Fight for him, then and we will see if you can claim him!

She met the attack with claws and teeth and screaming defiance. The cub was enraged, an angry spitfire of motion. The lioness fought her, rolling with her, trying to pin her with her longer limbs. She was quick, but the cub was quicker and evaded her grasp. The cub slashed at her, tearing and gashing with her claws and snarling mouth. The lioness tore back, slicing through skin, biting harshly at the hands and fingers that crushed her. She was larger, but somehow, the cub was stronger and the fact infuriated her. She rose again, ready to sink teeth into the cub’s vulnerable underbelly –

- and she felt a searing pain clamp onto her shoulder and all went dark around her.

The tiger-cub writhed frantically in the grasp of the lioness, keeping her form getting a good hold. She clawed and sunk her teeth into the golden flesh, determined to kill the female who had dared to intrude on her mating. She heard voices shouting, sounds she didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Many hands touched her, but she was strong, and fought them off. The golden one reared over her and she cried out, then felt the heavier body fall limply on top of her. Shrieking in triumph, she scrambled out from under her and brought her own head down for the kill –

- and cold fire touched her shoulder and she, too, fell into darkness.

Kirk had quickly lied, telling Jerik that Spock, as a Vulcan, had reacted instinctively to an attack and had accidentally killed Jerik’s pets. When coupled with Lieutenant Sulu’s inventive addition of the mating habits of Indiian tigresses, which he claimed were something akin to Terran black widow spiders, and his graphic description of what had happened to a man he knew who had been intimately engaged with an Antarian lioness when she went berserk, it wasn’t all that difficult to convince Jerik that the Havens had lied to him about their being tame. In fact, he was grateful that they’d been destroyed before injuring anyone on Korion. He waved away Kirk’s offer of a good-faith reimbursement, saying that he knew the Havens weren’t members of the Federation. When Kirk offered to dispose of the bodies, Jerik hastily agreed, and hurried them through the usually lengthy farewell rituals.

“Bones, isn’t there something you can do?” Kirk asked wearily.

“I don’t know what, Jim,” McCoy replied, not looking up from his microscope. “I can’t identify the drug in their systems well enough to even begin to formulate an antidote. It’s got to be some Haven concoction.” He grunted. “Damned clever chemists.”

Kirk sighed, staring at Ruth and Jilla through the medical force screens that separated them from him and from each other. Spock had acted quickly on Korion, the nerve pinch rendering the women unconscious before they’d done too much damage to each other.

“What about the adornment?” he said.

“You mean the paint?” McCoy returned. “I’ve run tests. It’s a harmless stain, but…” He paused. “There’s no known solvent. It has to wear off. The more they bathe, the quicker the skin will exfoliate. Unfortunately, they aren't much in the bathing mood.”

The door hissed open and Sulu and Spock stepped into sickbay. “Debriefing completed, Captain,” Spock reported. “I have sent preliminary reports to Starfleet and to Babel, informing them that Lieutenant Valley and Ensign Majiir have been found and are well. I left the – details – of their condition for your official report.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Spock,” Kirk grimaced. If Spock noticed the sarcasm, he made no indication of it.

Sulu stepped to McCoy. “Any luck, Doc?” he asked.

“See for yourself,” McCoy grunted, gesturing toward the containment rooms on the far end of the Sickbay lab. Both women were on hands and knees, pacing feverishly. After several long minutes, Kirk cleared his throat and Sulu tore his eyes away.

“They do look – interesting – sir,” he said sheepishly.

“Doctor, is it not possible to clothe them?” Spock put in.

“I tried,” McCoy replied. “They tore them off.” He glanced up. “If you want to keep them sedated…”

“How long will they be – like this?” Kirk asked. “I’ve got angry ambassadors and Headquarters to report to.”

“I can’t be certain, but with the rate of dissemination of this chemical – whatever it is – through their systems, I’d say no more than four or five days.”

“Four or five days?” Kirk repeated.

“If it is a Haven compound, a likely conclusion, it would be dangerous to attempt to hasten the recovery,” Spock added.

“You still think Ruthie did it on purpose?” McCoy asked Kirk.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Kirk groaned.

“Hardly, Captain,” Spock said, and Kirk glared at him. Spock continued, unperturbed. “The evaluation of the staining used on their skin indicates that, if Dr. McCoy’s estimation of the drug’s duration is correct, it will have worn off by the time they recover. As one of the effects of the drug seems to be a blockage of memory patterns...”

“They seemed to remember enough, Mr. Spock,” Sulu broke in.

“Animal instinct, Mr. Sulu,” Spock returned, “not memory.” He again faced Kirk. “Miss Valley will retain no knowledge of this incident. With no memory of the difficulty she caused to savor, such a situation, from her point of view, would hardly be considered perfect.”

Kirk’s expression had slowly changed from grimace to grin. “Are you telling me she won't remember being an Antari lioness?” he asked.

“Nor will Ensign Majiir recall behaving as an Indiian tiger cub,” Spock confirmed.

“And I think it’s best they don’t, Jim,” McCoy put in. Kirk’s grin faded.

“Why not?”

“Do you want to explain it to the angry ambassadors or Headquarters?”

Kirk stared at McCoy, then glanced at Spock. The Vulcan’s right eyebrow was raised, echoing McCoy’s question. No wonder he ‘left it for my official report,’ Kirk suddenly realized. He doesn’t think there should be any mention of it. He glanced at Lieutenant Sulu, who was still smiling at the confinement fields. Then he closed his eyes, thinking of José’s angry face, Ambassador Costain’s indignant protests to Babel, the potential war with the Havens – and the Zehara’s amusement in his mind.

“Bones,” he said with a deep sigh. “Why me?”

The End