Fire On High (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

by Peter David

  "But that's irresponsible!" protested Calhoun. "If you're truly an advanced race, you would know that! Going around, doing whatever you want, without regard for the rightness or wrongness of your actions in terms of how they impact on others. You need to understand boundaries, to be aware of the result of the things that you do. You can't just interfere whenever you want. You can't…"

  "Do what you do?" asked the Promethean.

  Calhoun hesitated, looking to Shelby. She shrugged. Clearly the same thing had been going through her mind. Calhoun turned back to the Promethean and said tersely, "It's not the same thing."

  "It never is, Cap'n," said the Promethean. "It never is."

  He had nearly completed his circuit of the bridge, and then he stopped as he got to Morgan. He stared at her for a long moment, scratching his sideburns thoughtfully. "Do I know you, ma'am?"

  She said nothing. Merely regarded him with amusement, her arms folded.

  He snapped his fingers as if in recollection. "Alabama. Nineteen thirty-four. Am I right?"

  "Maybe," said Morgan, "but unlike you, I've moved on since then."

  He pointed to Morgan but addressed Calhoun as he said, "This is a very special lady. She's been looking for us for a long time now. You take good care of her now, hear?"

  And suddenly the Excalibur was jolted. Then it began to shudder ever so slightly, and it seemed as if they could almost hear the sound of metal being strained.

  The Promethean turned to face Calhoun, and he had a wide smile on his face. His teeth were remarkably white. "So let's see if I understand you a'right, Cap'n. You're saying that we should not interfere. That we shouldn't help others with our advanced abilities. Well, you got a creature down there that could bust your ship here to pieces, and is about to, because he's in the process of getting hisself born. Now I could remove him from your ship, no sweat. Just another example of the Prometheans taking care of business. Or maybe I should just let him burst out, smash your engines to pieces, blow up your whole ship. Kill everyone on board. All in the interest of noninterference, y'understand. Is that what you're saying I should do?"

  "No," Calhoun said tightly. "That's not what I'm saying."

  "Then I want you to ask me for my help. No, better," and he grinned widely. There suddenly seemed something very dark and frightening hidden behind the "aw-shucks" attitude he displayed. "Beg me… just like the captain of the Grissom begged you."

  There was dead silence on the bridge.

  And then Calhoun said, "Soleta, come with me." He pivoted on his heel and headed for the turbolift, Soleta obediently following behind, leaving the Promethean looking rather surprised at the rest of the bridge.

  "Now don't that beat all," he said.

  * * *

  Burgoyne looked up as Calhoun and Soleta approached Selar, who was exactly the same way that she had been earlier. "Captain," s/he said formally, "Energy readings are building to an uncontrollable level. I think it may be time to abandon ship."

  "Not yet. Soleta, do you think you can get through to her?"

  Soleta studied Selar as if she were looking over a statue. "I believe so, yes."

  "Is she in communication with the creature?"

  "That would be my best guess, yes."

  "Put me in communication with it," Calhoun said.

  Soleta looked back at Calhoun and there was no hiding the clear surprise on her face. "Captain?" She was obviously not certain she had understood him properly.

  "The two of you, working together… let me talk to it."

  "We've never done anything like that, sir," Soleta said worriedly.

  "Well, we're going to do it now."

  Soleta looked from Calhoun back to Selar, clearly trying to figure out exactly how to proceed. Then, with grim determination, she said, "All right. Here, then." She pulled Calhoun over to her. "Clear your mind," she told him.

  Calhoun did so. He washed away any thoughts of the imminent danger, any concern over what was about to happen. He allowed himself to descend into a place of calm and serenity, where nothing and no one could hurt him.

  Soleta was somewhat impressed by Calhoun's powers of concentration and his mental control. This might just work after all, she thought to herself as she placed her fingers against his forehead. As she did this, she put her other hand against Selar's forehead. She let go of herself, of her consciousness and identity, and she whispered, "Our minds are merging."

  And Calhoun suddenly felt as if he were falling, floating, and flying, all at the same time.

  All of space laid itself bare for him, and he felt peace such as he'd never known, such as he'd never thought possible in his lifetime…

  There was light and warmth all around him, and at first his impulse was to push away, to protect himself, but he surrendered that impulse, surrendered himself to that which was carrying him down, down and along to whatever it was that was beckoning to him. He was drawn to that very light, and part of his mind cried out a warning of what can happen when the unwary come too close to the light, but he did not care, he knew it was there, he knew that was where he had to go.

  He felt alien whisperings in his mind, he felt cold and logic and emotion all wrapped up and bubbling within him, and there was Selar and there was Soleta, and there seemed to be a sort of chatter, the details of which he could not discern, but it didn't matter because he felt Selar guiding him then, pushing him in the direction he wanted to go, felt something pure and perfect and frightened brushing up against him…

  And he saw it: It was void and without shape, but it was nevertheless. It was having a full sense of itself, and it was afraid, so very afraid. For all its power, for all its energy, it recoiled as Calhoun drew nearer.

  No time, a voice called to him, and he didn't know if it was Selar's or Soleta's, or Burgoyne's own warning filtering through from some still tenuous link to the real world. All was blackness around him except for the light that the being gave off. No time, hurry.

  You have to leave, he told it. You have to leave. You'll destroy us otherwise.

  It couldn't communicate in words. It didn't have the knowledge or understanding yet. It was a premature birth, a confused and disoriented being.

  Instead every emotion it was feeling washed over `Calhoun, and he drew in the sense of it and the comprehension of it… and he realized that the creature wasn't simply trying to be born, it was resisting its own birth throes, clinging scared and uncertain to the Excalibur, seeing her as the last link to its "mother," the great energy being that had deposited it there, almost by accident.

  It did not know itself. It did not know its mother. It only knew fear. When it lashed out earlier, it was the actions of a terrified infant.

  Feel this, know this . . . and Calhoun fed into the creature images of its parent. The massive flaming bird, glorious and powerful, enveloping all, spanning star systems, hurtling off into the void, truly one of the most amazing things that Calhoun had ever seen.

  And it felt pride. Pride and eagerness, and joy at comprehending its own origins. Selar had not been able to project her own visions of the gigantic creature, for her mind had been fairly overwhelmed by the desires and needs of the being within the warp core, but three minds combined as one were able to handle it, to punch through the overwhelming need and give it what it truly did need.

  You can leave here, he told it. You can leave here without hurting us. Your continued presence will destroy us. Leave us now. Leave us in peace and go in search of your mother. Leave us.

  And the creature, emboldened, newly confident, gathered itself. Inspired by the images that it had seen, it drew itself up, up and out…

  Selar gasped, taken aback, her hands slipping off the warp core. She staggered, her legs giving way, and Burgoyne caught her before she fell. Moments later, Soleta and Calhoun came out of their meld as well, Calhoun leaning against the core to brace himself, trying to pull himself back to the real world like a waking man trying to toss off the last vestiges of a powerful dream.


  * * *

  The creature coalesced all around the Excalibur, all of its being coming together at last, and then it tore loose of the starship, whirling above it, and it screeched in a voice that was heard in the voices of everyone in the ship. It had no wings yet, it had no complete sense of itself beyond the fact that it existed, but that was more than enough. It stretched out its essence, feeling the joy of deep space, feeling the full truth breadth of life.

  Then, with a howl and an outraged scream of confusion… it vanished.

  As did the Promethean ship.

  * * *

  Burgoyne's scans only confirmed what s/he already knew. "It's gone, Captain. Sparky's gone. Away from the engines, away from the ship."

  Calhoun had sagged into a chair, still endeavoring to pull himself together. Nearby Selar was breathing deeply as Soleta stood over her, steadying her. "Our shield status?" he asked.

  "Shields are gone, sir. At least three solar hours to effect repairs and bring them back up to full power."

  "But we're still here," Calhoun said slowly, hauling himself to his feet. "Guess they found out how much our little ship could take."

  Suddenly there was, once more, a burst of choral voices and a flash of light. A moment later the Promethean was standing there, looking cool and confident. "Thank you, Captain."

  "Thank you for what?" asked Calhoun.

  "Why, for our latest acquisition, Cap'n. That creature you had growing in there. Let itself go, let itself get born. And now part of our gestalt being."

  "Let it go," Calhoun said angrily. "It's a free being, and deserves its freedom."

  "Freedom?" laughed the Promethean. "Cap'n, you just don't get it. It's ours now."

  Calhoun felt a deep, burning rage building in him. He'd felt the creature's fear laid bare, felt that—to some degree—it had even trusted him. "I said let it go."

  "You got the stones to make me?" challenged the Promethean.

  He was still laughing when Calhoun flattened him. His feet went out from under him and the Promethean hit the floor, never having even seen the fist that smashed into his chin. He lay there for a moment, clearly stunned and surprised. "Son, that was not a real bright move," he said slowly, rubbing his chin.

  "Let it go," Calhoun said again.

  The Promethean did not bother to get up. Instead he sat on the floor, looking up at Calhoun, shaking his head in wonderment. "You got a fire in your belly, son. I like that. I do. The fact that I like it is the only reason you're still breathing. But a fire can burn pretty bad. You took a major chance with me, just for the sake of something, until real recently, you were concerned would destroy you all?"

  "It deserves protection. All beings do. Especially those that are alone in the universe."

  "Well that all is a real nice sentiment, son. Just bring a tear to m'eye, but now you tell me this and tell me true: Let's say we let it go. Wave our hands and, poof, it's gone. And if I told you that, once we release it, it will seek out the nearest heavily populated planet and devour the inhabitants? Make a mighty big snack of 'em. What would you say then? 'Cause I'll tell you right now, that's what it's gonna do. Is that what you want? You get to choose, son. The creature… or a planetful of living beings? Decide."

  All eyes were on Calhoun and, slowly, the captain realized that he had absolutely no choice in the matter. "All right," he sighed. "Keep it with you. But do it no harm."

  "Cap'n! We are an advanced race, son. We don't hurt nobody 'less we have to." He rose, dusted himself off and, in a very offhand manner, added, "Oh, and Cap'n, just so you know. The nearest heavily populated planet is called Tulaan IV. Bunch of fairly nasty folks who call themselves the Redeemers live there. Had you continued to insist I release the creature I would have done it, and it would have blown 'em away for you. As it is, they are going to be coming after you in force before very much longer with the intention of turning you into space dust. Funny how there are no easy answers, huh?"

  "Yeah. Funny," Calhoun said with absolutely no trace of amusement.

  And with that, the Promethean tossed off a salute… and vanished.

  "Soleta… Selar… you okay?" asked Calhoun. He received nods from both of them, although Selar looked a bit more haggard than usual. Then he tapped his commbadge and said, "Calhoun to bridge. Stand down from red alert. All stations at normal status. It would appear that the danger is past."

  XVII

  THERE WAS NO WIND BLOWING on the surface of Ahmista. It was almost as if the entire world was waiting for something to happen.

  Morgan stood there, contemplating the weapon. Nearby was Robin, and standing close were Kebron and Calhoun. Calhoun had been determined to see this superweapon for himself, and he shook his head in wonderment at something relatively compact, which, nonetheless, had nearly demolished his ship.

  Morgan crouched down in front of the barrel, stroking the surface.

  "Go ahead, Mother. Do what you have to do," Robin said softly.

  Morgan looked up at her, her expression unreadable. "What do you mean?"

  "I'm not stupid," Robin told her. "I figured it out. The reason you were seeking out the Prometheans. You wanted a weapon that could put an end to you. That would enable you to die, for certain. And now you've found it. You found what you've been searching for all this time. This has more than just fire power. You heard Tarella. It'll do whatever you want it to do. If you want to die, it'll do it for you. So, go ahead. Bond with it or whatever you have to do, and put an end to it. You know it's what you want."

  Her gaze flickered to Calhoun. He nodded. "Robin told me what you are … what you want. Who am I to interfere in a quest of this magnitude? If this is your wish we'll honor it."

  She looked at the gun then… really looked at it. Then she looked to her daughter, who was—with effort—keeping her face neutral and determined. Her jaw was proudly set, her dark eyes free of tears.

  An eternity of time passed. An eternity almost as long as Morgan's life.

  She turned to Kebron and said, "May I borrow your rifle for a moment?"

  Kebron looked questioningly at Calhoun, who nodded. He unstrapped his phaser rifle and handed it over to her. She cradled it, feeling its weight, and then with an impressive display of strength she braced it against her shoulder, took aim, and fired.

  It took more than a dozen shots, but eventually Morgan succeeded in blasting the weapon into free-floating atoms.

  Robin gaped at her, not quite believing what she had seen. And as Morgan handed the rifle back to Kebron she said, "When Tarella looked like she was going to shoot me, you got in the way. Even though there was no point to it, your instinct was still to try and save me. You were willing to die for me. The least I can do is be willing to live for you."

  And Robin trembled, trying to suppress her sobs, but she was only partly successful as she half walked, half ran into her mother's embrace.

  "What is with them?" muttered Kebron.

  "That's what I like about you, Kebron," Calhoun said. "Your sentimental side."

  * * *

  Shelby let the warmth of the shower flow over her. As she did so, she mused about how things had turned out. They had come upon a tragic situation and made the best of it, but there were no easy or clean answers to this one. Sometimes there just couldn't be any.

  At least the one upside to it all was that Mac had had thrown into his face a being who was the incarnation of Mac's philosophies, taken to their logical extremes. The Prometheans followed a sort of anti-Prime Directive, moving capriciously as they saw fit, an entire race governed by what felt right at the moment. And she had a feeling that Mac had seen something of himself in that. Perhaps he had come to some hard realizations about himself. Perhaps, thought Shelby, just perhaps, he was growing up a bit.

  A few hours later, in the corridor, Zak Kebron approached her, looking puzzled.

  "What's on your mind?" she asked him.

  "Commander," he began, "the Promethean mentioned the Grissom, and you could have heard a pin
drop on the bridge."

  "Spit it out," Shelby said, although she had a good idea where the large security chief was going.

  "So I was wondering, what happened on the Grissom? To the captain, I mean."

  "I'm not at liberty to say," Shelby replied.

  "And I take it you advise against asking the captain directly?"

  "That's not a story the captain is ready to tell."

  "And if I asked him about it…."

  "You might find yourself guarding the interior of waste extraction for the next six months."

  "Thank you, Commander."

  "You're welcome. That's what I'm here for."

  * * *

  In sickbay, Mark McHenry was having some of the bruises he'd sustained attended to by Selar. "You are becoming something of a regular customer here, Mr. McHenry," observed Selar.

  "Wasn't my intention. Things just keep happening to me. Speaking of things happening… congratulations are in order, I hear."

  "Thank you, Mr. McHenry. And I …" She cleared her throat. "I must thank you, I believe… for your ability to handle with such equanimity the rather odd relationship that has developed between myself and Burgoyne. I am, frankly, not sure if we are together or not together. It is very confusing, and—"

  "Doctor," McHenry said confidently, "don't worry about it. Whatever happens, happens, and I'll be fine with it no matter what. There's very little that—"

  At that point, Burgoyne entered and seeing McHenry and Selar together, headed over to them. "Burgy," said McHenry, "I was just telling the good doctor here that whatever ends up happening with you twos' fine by me. There's nothing that I can't take in stride."