Read Online Star Trek: The Original Series: Rihannsu: The Bloodwing Voyages by Diane Duane & Peter Morwood - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Diane Duane & Peter Morwood
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more so than usual…
The company seated at that table rose, or bowed, to greet Jim and his party as they entered. One of them got up out of her bowl chair with the sucking sound that Jim remembered so well; and he started to grin. “Nhauris,” he said, holding out his hands, “you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Neither have you, flatterer,” said the Captain of Inaieu, flowing toward him and reaching out a tentacle to wind in a comradely grip around one of his wrists. Nhauris Rihaul was a Deirr, from Deneb IV; half a ton of what looked like wet brown leather, all wrinkles and pouches and sags, shaped more or less like a slug that had half mastered the art of standing upright—but a slug eight feet long and five feet across the barrel. One long multipupiled eyeslit ran across what would have been a forehead, if she had properly had a head. Under the eyeslit was a long vertical slash of a mouth, lipless and apparently toothless, though Jim knew better. From beneath the mouth sprang the cluster of handling tentacles, ranging from tiny ones to huge thick cables. It was one of the smaller ones that was holding him, pumping his arm up and down in Nhauris’s old mocking approximation of a handshake. “Jim, how are you?”
“Fine, Captain,” Jim said—the old answer—“as soon as you stop that!”
She did, though not without bubbling briefly with Deirra laughter, a sound like an impending gastric disturbance. “Well enough. Captain, I have to apologize for asking you to hold this meeting here; properly it should have been on Enterprise, since she’s flagship for this operation. But I think we might have crowded your briefing room a bit.”
“I think you’re right,” he said, looking at the two Klaha, three Eyren and one!’ hew standing at the center of the table, each one of them nearly the size of half a shuttlecraft. “In any case, let’s get introductions over with so that we can get down to business. Captain Rihaul, may I present my first officer and science officer, Mr. Spock”—Spock bowed slightly—“my chief engineer, Montgomery Scott; my chief surgeon, Leonard McCoy.”
“Honored, gentlemen, most honored,” Captain Rihaul said, taking them each by the hand, though foregoing the jump-start motion she had used on Jim. “Welcome aboard Inaieu .” She led them toward the table. “I present to you my officers: first officer and chief of science Araun Yihoun; chief of surgery Lahiyn Roharrn; chief engineer Lellyn UUriul. And our guests; outside the table, from Constellation —”
“Jim and I have met, Nhauris,” said Mike Walsh, reaching out to grip Jim’s hand warmly. “Academy—then posts together on Excalibur, ages back. When did we last see each other? That M-5 business, wasn’t it? Horrible mess, machine getting out of hand…”
Out of the corner of his eye Jim could see McCoy getting very interested indeed. “This meeting’s a lot better than that one,” he said, looking Mike up and down. Long ago, Jim and his classmates had used to tease Mike that it was a good thing Starfleet didn’t have the old space agencies’ maximum height requirement; otherwise Walsh would never have made it past atmosphere. He was six foot six, a slim man with sandy blond hair, a long, loose-limbed lope, and a look of eternal, friendly calculation, as if he were doing odds in his head. Probably he was; Mike had a reputation among his friends for being the biggest gambler in Starfleet. It might have been a problem, if he didn’t always win. Nobody played poker with Mike Walsh—at least, not twice—but people fought to get aboard Constellation . Her command record since Mike took her was almost the equal of Enterprise’ s for danger, daring, and success not only snatched from the jaws of failure, but afterward used to beat failure over the head. It was easy enough for Jim to understand. Mike Walsh hated to lose as much as Jim did; and he had carefully surrounded himself with people who felt the
The company seated at that table rose, or bowed, to greet Jim and his party as they entered. One of them got up out of her bowl chair with the sucking sound that Jim remembered so well; and he started to grin. “Nhauris,” he said, holding out his hands, “you haven’t changed a bit.”
“Neither have you, flatterer,” said the Captain of Inaieu, flowing toward him and reaching out a tentacle to wind in a comradely grip around one of his wrists. Nhauris Rihaul was a Deirr, from Deneb IV; half a ton of what looked like wet brown leather, all wrinkles and pouches and sags, shaped more or less like a slug that had half mastered the art of standing upright—but a slug eight feet long and five feet across the barrel. One long multipupiled eyeslit ran across what would have been a forehead, if she had properly had a head. Under the eyeslit was a long vertical slash of a mouth, lipless and apparently toothless, though Jim knew better. From beneath the mouth sprang the cluster of handling tentacles, ranging from tiny ones to huge thick cables. It was one of the smaller ones that was holding him, pumping his arm up and down in Nhauris’s old mocking approximation of a handshake. “Jim, how are you?”
“Fine, Captain,” Jim said—the old answer—“as soon as you stop that!”
She did, though not without bubbling briefly with Deirra laughter, a sound like an impending gastric disturbance. “Well enough. Captain, I have to apologize for asking you to hold this meeting here; properly it should have been on Enterprise, since she’s flagship for this operation. But I think we might have crowded your briefing room a bit.”
“I think you’re right,” he said, looking at the two Klaha, three Eyren and one!’ hew standing at the center of the table, each one of them nearly the size of half a shuttlecraft. “In any case, let’s get introductions over with so that we can get down to business. Captain Rihaul, may I present my first officer and science officer, Mr. Spock”—Spock bowed slightly—“my chief engineer, Montgomery Scott; my chief surgeon, Leonard McCoy.”
“Honored, gentlemen, most honored,” Captain Rihaul said, taking them each by the hand, though foregoing the jump-start motion she had used on Jim. “Welcome aboard Inaieu .” She led them toward the table. “I present to you my officers: first officer and chief of science Araun Yihoun; chief of surgery Lahiyn Roharrn; chief engineer Lellyn UUriul. And our guests; outside the table, from Constellation —”
“Jim and I have met, Nhauris,” said Mike Walsh, reaching out to grip Jim’s hand warmly. “Academy—then posts together on Excalibur, ages back. When did we last see each other? That M-5 business, wasn’t it? Horrible mess, machine getting out of hand…”
Out of the corner of his eye Jim could see McCoy getting very interested indeed. “This meeting’s a lot better than that one,” he said, looking Mike up and down. Long ago, Jim and his classmates had used to tease Mike that it was a good thing Starfleet didn’t have the old space agencies’ maximum height requirement; otherwise Walsh would never have made it past atmosphere. He was six foot six, a slim man with sandy blond hair, a long, loose-limbed lope, and a look of eternal, friendly calculation, as if he were doing odds in his head. Probably he was; Mike had a reputation among his friends for being the biggest gambler in Starfleet. It might have been a problem, if he didn’t always win. Nobody played poker with Mike Walsh—at least, not twice—but people fought to get aboard Constellation . Her command record since Mike took her was almost the equal of Enterprise’ s for danger, daring, and success not only snatched from the jaws of failure, but afterward used to beat failure over the head. It was easy enough for Jim to understand. Mike Walsh hated to lose as much as Jim did; and he had carefully surrounded himself with people who felt the
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