Star Trek: New Frontier®: Blind Man’s Bluff

by Peter David

  “I would never lower myself to fight such as you,” said the Visionary.

  “Such as me?”

  “A lower life form.”

  “A lower life form that could kill you with his bare hands quite easily.”

  “Ah, you see?” said the Visionary. “That is all you can think of: solving matters with brutality and force, as if such approaches solve anything. That is what separates you from me.”

  “I thought what separated us was the distance that you make sure to keep between us so that I don’t wring your neck.” Calhoun smiled disdainfully. He reached out and put his hand through the insubstantial hologram that hovered before him. “For all your pretensions, ‘Visionary,’ you’re just another coward who can’t bear to fight his own battles.”

  “What do you know of battles when you cannot even see the scope of the war? The fact is, Calhoun,” and the Visionary circled him without moving his legs or otherwise displaying any indication of walking, “that you are flailing around without any true understanding of the outcome of your actions. And there will be repercussions. Repercussions that you will seriously regret.”

  “At the moment, my only regret is wasting time talking to you.”

  The Visionary sighed heavily, as if contemplating a great tragedy. “Tell me, Captain: Have you ever heard of a game called ‘Blind Man’s Bluff’?”

  “Can’t say I have, no. But I suspect you’re going to tell me about it, whether I wish to hear it or not.”

  “It’s a human children’s game, actually. There’s some dispute whether the original name of the game was ‘blind man’s buff,’ ‘buff’ meaning to give someone a small push, or whether the use of the word ‘bluff’ referred to its older meaning as a blindfold…”

  “I really don’t care,” said Calhoun, crossing to the other side of the commander center. He had to step over the unmoving body of the Brethren. The armor was starting to cool, which was a relief. Once it did, he would haul it off the bridge and dump it in the cargo hold or somewhere so that he didn’t have to look at it.

  The Visionary drifted after him and continued to speak. “In the game, the person who is the next participant—‘it,’ as they say—is blindfolded. And then he has to run around, preferably in some wide-open area so that he doesn’t injure himself, trying to lay his hands on one of the other children, thereby catching or ‘tagging’ them. It’s quite comical, watching whoever it is flail about, trying not to trip over his own feet while the other children call to him and confuse him and try to keep out of the way.”

  “And I’m ‘it,’ is what you’re saying?”

  “That is exactly right, yes. You are ‘it,’ staggering around, trying to tag one of the other children, with no clear vision of the terrain around you, or where you are in relation to the others. You’re making moves, desperate moves, but your vision is obscured and you cannot see the field of battle. And as long as that remains the case, we’re always going to be ahead of you, just out of the reach of your questing fingers.”

  “Seems to me,” Calhoun said, “that I’m able to see just fine. I saw your precious Brethren dying at my hands, including that one over there,” and he pointed toward the corpse lying a short distance away. “So as much as I appreciate your concern, I think I have the situation under control.”

  “Yes. I know you think you do. And that is the greatest tragedy of all.”

  And with a slow shaking of his head, the Visionary faded out. He did not do so all at once, but instead part-by-part until the only thing remaining was his smile, hanging mockingly in the air. At least Calhoun thought it was a smile. Then again, it wasn’t always the easiest thing to discern what it was he was looking at when it came to the D’myurj. It might have been a part of his spine turned sideways; it was tough to tell sometimes.

  Calhoun may have been unfamiliar with Blind Man’s Bluff, but he certainly recognized something else from Earth culture.

  “So now you’re the Cheshire cat. Meaning you’re the cat and I’m the mouse,” he said sarcastically.

  “A clever comparison, but I think we’ll remain with the concept of Blind Man’s Bluff. Enjoy the rest of the game, Captain.”

  And with that the smile, if that’s what it indeed was, vanished along with the rest of the Visionary.

  The Spectre

  Robin Lefler had stood in front of the screen, holding her child tightly, speaking nonstop for several minutes without having the faintest idea whether her mother was hearing her or, for that matter, if anyone was. The Excalibur hadn’t proceeded on her way, which was some small win, she supposed. It might indeed mean that someone there—her mother, the bridge crew, anyone—was listening to her. Which would be nice, because it would mean that she wasn’t just babbling away into the ether.

  Soleta was standing near her, which she found somewhat comforting. They had once been crewmates, after all, and she had never for a moment believed that Soleta would have done anything to run counter to the interests of the Federation. So knowing that Calhoun had trusted her sufficiently to ally himself with her in a matter of such great delicacy was heartening.

  It was the one bright spot of this entire mad endeavor.

  Standing a short distance away were two people with whom she was utterly unfamiliar: a woman who had apparently once been a Borg, and a ship’s emergency medical hologram who had somehow been liberated from the confines of a ship. That had made no sense to Robin, but she had tried not to dwell on it, particularly when Soleta explained the whole sorry situation to her.

  “We need to come over there, Mother,” she was saying insistently. She had already tried some variation on that several times, but she still wasn’t getting any sort of response. Then again, at least the ship wasn’t trying to blow them up. Another plus. “You need to beam us over so we can discuss what’s going on. And I need you to do it safely. We shouldn’t have to be worried that you’re going to kill one or all of us deliberately in transit. Soleta,” and she inclined her head toward the commander of the Spectre, “would frankly rather stay here. So would these other two. They’re just passengers. But she picked me up and brought me out here because she felt that I was the best person to talk to you and try to get this whole ugly business sorted out. Was she wrong? Are you that unwilling to talk to me? Is that—”

  And suddenly the voice of Morgan Primus boomed through the Spectre, so loudly that Soleta clapped her hands over her ears in order to shield herself. Seven and Robin winced as well, and Cwansi let out a small, pitiful, and startled cry. The Doctor remained utterly impassive, undisturbed by the volume.

  “Do you think I’m stupid, dear? Is that what you believe? That I would bring you over while leaving the others behind? What’s the trick, dear?”

  “There’s no trick,” Robin insisted. “I just need to talk to you…”

  “And Soleta just happened to bring you here. How did that come about?”

  Soleta took a step forward. She wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t as if Morgan was standing in front of them. But she did so anyway. “The how of it, Morgan, is not your concern. Robin wished to see you. She asked me to bring her here. I have done so. I wish to get her off my ship and to have no further part of this, nor do these two with me.”

  “Those two with you. I recognize them both, of course,” came the confident voice. “Both of them are in my database. Quite the accomplished records the two of them have… particularly the Doctor’s, I have to say. Do you prefer to be called ‘Doctor Zimmerman’?”

  “Simply ‘Doctor’ will suffice.”

  “I thought your book about the rights of holograms was interesting, although somewhat overwritten.”

  The Doctor stiffened and then fired an annoyed glance at Soleta. She shrugged. Then, turning her attention back to more immediate concerns, she said, “So if you wouldn’t mind, Morgan. I would appreciate your doing as I asked and bringing Robin over there so I can be on my way.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that that is how all of this transpir
es.” Morgan sounded almost disappointed. “I bring Robin over to the Excalibur and allow the rest of you to leave.”

  “I would be perfectly content with that,” Seven now spoke up.

  “Now why,” Morgan wondered aloud, “do I not believe you?”

  “Because,” said Soleta, “you’re an out-of-control madwoman of a computer, that’s why.”

  Robin turned quickly, her face going white with alarm. “Don’t say that!” she said. “You’re just going to get her angry!”

  “No, she won’t,” said Morgan. “I’m far too evolved to allow myself to become angry over trivialities. Very well, then, Robin, if you are that determined to come here…”

  Transporter beams shimmered into existence around Robin and Cwansi. They started to dematerialize.

  And so did Soleta, the Doctor, and Seven of Nine.

  “Mother!” shouted Robin. “I told you not to bring them al—”

  The rest of her words were lost in the shimmer of the transporter beam and, moments later, the Spectre was empty.

  U.S.S. Excalibur

  i.

  “—ong!”

  Robin completed her sentence to discover that she was somewhere other than where she had been.

  She looked around to find herself on the bridge of the Excalibur. The startled faces of her former crewmates were all around her, staring at her in surprise. Although, she noted silently, it didn’t appear to be too much surprise. Obviously life with her mother had left them battle-hardened and ready for whatever she was going to throw at them next.

  Soleta, Seven, and the Doctor were all there as well. Soleta was making a rather poor attempt not to look annoyed, Seven was surprised, and the Doctor as dispassionate as Soleta should have been had she been faithful to her Vulcan heritage.

  Her mother was absent. Her spot on the bridge unoccupied. Robin supposed it didn’t matter; her mother was, after all, omniscient and omnipresent. It didn’t matter at this point where one was in the ship. Morgan Primus was going to be there as well.

  With more than a touch of sarcasm, Soleta turned to Burgoyne and said, “Permission to come aboard.”

  “Permission granted,” replied Burgoyne, as aware as Soleta of the strangeness of their current circumstances. “I am not, however, thrilled with your conduct, Soleta.”

  “My conduct? I showed up and saved your ass, Burgy. In what manner did you find my conduct lacking?” She put her hands akimbo, waiting for hir reply with challenge on her face.

  “I don’t appreciate your coming in here and using lethal force.”

  “I can’t say I’m worried about your opinion.”

  “You asked.”

  Soleta was about to offer a rejoinder, but then she hesitated and finally admitted, “All right, that’s a fair enough point. I should not have asked.”

  Xy, meanwhile, was across the bridge and approaching Robin. “Is that the baby?”

  “No, it’s my laundry,” she said as Cwansi stretched and cooed. “I hate to wash it myself, so I always bring it back here so Mom can take care of it.”

  “I just wanted to make certain he was all right.” Obviously it was the doctor in Xy that was talking, feeling the need to verify that a helpless infant was actually in good health.

  “He’s fine, and I appreciate your asking.”

  “Still, perhaps I should take a closer look at—”

  Morgan Primus suddenly popped into existence. “Keep away from my grandson,” she said, and although her voice was carefully modulated and crafted to sound as if it was totally calm, there was an undercurrent of threat and warning laced into it.

  Xy froze exactly where he was, having no wish to countermand the formidable computer entity.

  Robin, however, groaned in ill-concealed disgust and then, on her own initiative, shifted Cwansi over toward Xy. Automatically Xy took the child, although he kept a wary eye on Morgan lest she have some sort of extremely adverse reaction.

  Morgan made no sudden moves. Not that that meant anything. All she had to do was concentrate and she could wreak untold havoc, and none of it involved doing anything other than perhaps frowning slightly. She was that much in charge of what was transpiring, and not only did she know it, but she knew that everyone else around her was aware of it as well.

  “You’re testing my limits, are you, Robin?” she asked. There was no anger in her voice; if anything, she sounded amused.

  “I’m not a child pushing back against her parent anymore, Mother. I’m a grown woman, and you and I need to talk about what’s happening. I figure it will be easier if someone else is holding Cwansi for a few minutes, and I trust Xy to do so without, you know, dropping him.”

  “He’s your son, Robin,” said Morgan judiciously. “I wouldn’t think of gainsaying you. So…” She paused, letting the tension in the room build up for a short while before continuing, “… why are you here? And why did you,” and she turned to Soleta, “bring her here, along with these two others? Are you her bodyguards? Her co-conspirators? What’s going on here that you’re not telling me? Are you here to congratulate me on my clever use of the transporters? I could have sent you to the transporter platform, but I felt this was so much more efficient, to have you brought straight to the bridge.”

  “I appreciate the saving of time, Mother. We all do. But this is… well, this is a serious matter.”

  “You seem nervous, Robin,” said Morgan. “You’ve lost four-point-two kilos and your heartbeat is up. Are you sure you’re keeping yourself in good condition?”

  “Nervous?!” Robin practically screamed. “Are you kidding me? I seem nervous? That is a masterful understatement, Mother.”

  “Thank you, dear,” she said, ignoring the sarcasm.

  “Mother, you blew up a planet! On your own!”

  “Could we be a tad less melodramatic, please?” Morgan admonished her. “I didn’t blow up any planets. I simply targeted the surface for a while and wreaked havoc on a people,” she hastened to add, “who certainly gave you a bad enough time.”

  “You still slaughtered innocents! You betrayed Captain Calhoun!? How could—”

  “This has been asked and answered. Oh,” and she reached toward Robin as if to touch her face, “you’re getting so upset about all of this. You really shouldn’t. Tension makes for bad breast milk.”

  Robin pulled away from her and stepped back warily, watching her. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Oh, now, honey, don’t be like that.”

  “And don’t talk to me that way. Don’t use terms of endearment. Don’t talk to me like you’re my mother.”

  “Well, of course I’m your mother. Don’t you understand?” Her arms were outstretched, but Robin was coming no closer. “I’m doing all this for you.”

  “No,” and Robin shook her head in determination. “Not for me. Never for me.”

  “Mother is just trying to take care of you. I want to make sure that I’m there for you. Always.”

  “You’re not my mother!” Robin said with rising fury. No one else on the bridge dared move. Everything that they had been through, everything that they had endured, was coming down to this moment, this confrontation. “Don’t you get that? You just think you are! You’re just engrams with delusions of life! But you’re clearly not her, no matter what you may believe!”

  Morgan looked stunned that Robin would say such a thing. With a hoarse whisper, she said, “How can you, of all people, say that?”

  “Because I, of all people, know what my mother would really do. And the real Morgan Primus, the woman who was my mother, had absolutely no trouble with leaving me behind. She abandoned me and never gave it a second thought.”

  “I gave it plenty of second thoughts!”

  “And then she did it. She left me far behind and let me think she was dead. And I hated her for it,” she said furiously. “For the longest time, I did. And it took me a long time to come to terms with that. And after we finally put our relationship back together, she died—”

&
nbsp; “But I lived—!”

  “No. No, she died, and a one in a billion happenstance made it seem like she didn’t, and I…” Robin’s voice caught, and she pushed through it, determined not to break down. “And I indulged it. I pretended she didn’t because I couldn’t let go. I wasn’t ready to.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do. And you do, too. You need to abandon the Excalibur. Shut yourself down. End yourself.”

  Morgan shook her head with such force that it seemed like it might come loose. “Why are you saying this? How can you believe it? Because I left you behind once?”

  “Because for the longest time my mother, who was sick of her immortality, wanted to end it all. That’s who my mother was! And I miss her terribly, but it’s over! She’s over! This,” and she gestured toward Morgan, “this echo of her is just an illusion. A dream that it’s time to wake up from!”

  Softly the Doctor corrected, “From which it’s time to wake up,” but Soleta fired him a glance that instantly silenced him.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Morgan said, and it was clear she was fighting to keep her voice steady. “Don’t you understand? Just because I made mistakes in the past doesn’t mean I have to keep on making them. I’ve learned. I’ve grown.”

  And now Seven stepped forward. “No,” she said quietly. “You’ve mutated. And you need to be purged.”

  “What do you know of anything?” said Morgan. “You’re a stranger to all this.”

  “I’m not a stranger to living a half life,” said Seven. “To having all your memories be merely things that are detached from you. From being someone who’s standing on the outside of your own life looking in. To having everything that you are, and everything you ever will be… bonded with a machine. I know that sense of community, of… of being part of something bigger than you are yourself. It’s comforting. It’s… it’s…” And her voice dropped to a hoarse, husky whisper. “It’s wonderful.”

  Morgan reached for Seven and took her hand. Seven didn’t resist. “It is, isn’t it. You do understand.”