by Peter David
The minotaur abruptly charged at him. He dodged to the right and swung the sword, and this time the blade struck home. It cut across the minotaur’s right torso, and the creature bellowed as flecks of blood splattered from the cut. It was nothing more than a superficial wound, but at least it was a hit. So that was something.
The minotaur was clearly upset. It grabbed at the wound, howling in fury, and charged McHenry once more. McHenry backed up, continuing to swing his sword in a desperate attempt to slow the beast in its assault.
And suddenly a young voice shouted, “Get away from him!”
The startling interruption caused the minotaur to stop in its tracks. The voice had come from behind McHenry, and he spun to see the speaker.
It was the child Blak Piro, the first Thallonian that McHenry had cured.
He was now walking perfectly normally. And he was shouting in full-throated childish fury. “Get back, you stupid monster! Get away!”
The minotaur threw his arms straight up and roared at the child, but Blak didn’t back down. Instead he stayed right where he was, and he kept shouting at the beast to back away.
“Blak, get out of here!” said McHenry desperately. “You shouldn’t be here!”
“I’m here because you are! You saved me! So I’m saving you back!”
“Go back to your parents!”
“No!”
And Blak sprinted past him, directly at the minotaur. McHenry grabbed at him, but the child ducked away and Mark missed him. Blak ran straight up to the minotaur and angrily kicked him in the shin.
To McHenry’s complete shock, the monster backed up.
What the hell? McHenry thought. This isn’t making any sense. It’s a monster. Why isn’t it attacking?
Blak was giving no thought to that consideration at all. He was in full attack mode, although it wasn’t as if he possessed any offensive capabilities. He kept after the monster, pursuing it. The creature grunted and growled but did nothing to strike back. McHenry followed, keeping his sword up while still not understanding what was happening.
The creature was in full retreat, and Blak continued to attack. His small fists thudded against the creature’s leg, having no possible impact, yet the creature made no response attack. This was making no sense at all . . .
Or maybe it did.
Maybe it’s not a monster at all.
“Blak, wait!” McHenry called. “Stop hitting it! Just . . . back up. Back away from it.”
Blak turned and looked over his shoulder. “But he’ll want to kill you!”
“We don’t know that for sure. In fact, there’s a lot we don’t know. Just . . . do what I’m saying.”
The boy clearly didn’t understand, but he did as he was instructed and backed up. McHenry guided the boy to stand behind him and stood facing the minotaur. The minotaur continued to glower at him but made no move against him. The reason was obvious: it was concerned that an attack would wind up injuring the child if Blak chose to interpose himself.
Very slowly, McHenry approached the beast. It was against the wall, its hands ready to attack, and it was swinging its head slowly back and forth as if determined to shove the point of its horns into McHenry’s chest. But it did not attack. Instead its black eyes glared at McHenry.
And there was something there. Some sort of recognition.
Son of a bitch.
“Han?” whispered McHenry, suddenly remembering that there had been no sign of Han in the stands. Surely he would have wanted to be there in order to see Robin Lefler’s champion put down. “Shintar Han? Is that you?”
The creature nodded, just once.
“I don’t believe it.” McHenry stepped back, and he started to shout. The people were still shouting his name, but Mark ignored them, focusing his attention instead purely on the so-called Awesome. “Q! I know what you’re up to! I know that this is Shintar Han! You wanted me to kill him because . . . I don’t know! Because you’re demented! Whatever the reason, I’m not gonna do it! I’m not going to cut down Shintar Han! You can just forget it! So change him back to what he was, and get me and Blak the hell out of here! You’ve failed, all right? Whatever your intentions were, you’ve completely failed! So end this! Now! Now!”
The minotaur let out a frustrated howl, and suddenly it vanished in a burst of light, to be replaced by Shintar Han. The prime minister’s legs trembled, and he fell to the ground, and when he looked up at McHenry there was pure terror on his face. “Are . . . are you going to kill me?”
“No, of course not. Go.” He nodded his head toward Blak. “And get him out of here as well.”
“I want to stay and help,” said Blak.
“You did. You helped tremendously. Now I need you to go back to your parents. Grow up and live a long and healthy life. That’s what you can do for me right now.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m always sure.”
Blak nodded and then turned to Han. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Han had no response. Instead he simply nodded and followed the boy away.
“It’s over, Q.” McHenry didn’t even bother to raise his voice. He was quite sure that Q could hear every word he said. “Shut this down and end this stupidity, once and for all.”
iii.
Q SAT IN his upraised seat, shaking his head in wonderment. “I never thought he’d see through that,” he said. “He wouldn’t have if that boy hadn’t run into the middle of the entire thing.”
“Are you satisfied, Q?” Robin demanded. “Are you done with us now? Is this whole ridiculous thing finished?”
Q drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the chair. Around him, the crowd was shouting “McHenry! McHenry!” over and over. It was clear that the people of New Thallon were howling for his release.
And yet Q wasn’t quite satisfied. “No, I’m afraid this isn’t over yet,” he said. “McHenry has performed well so far—even I have to admit that. But there is still something to be done. Something that I normally would not do, but we live in interesting times.”
“And what’s that?”
Q didn’t answer, but instead slowly stood and spread his arms wide. This was enough to immediately silence the shouting from the crowd.
“McHenry”—his voice boomed across the coliseum, impossibly loud—“has acquitted himself well so far. But now he faces the final test. He must battle your god. He must battle me.”
Q vanished from his seat, and a split second later the labyrinth spread across the ground disappeared as well. McHenry was left standing there with his sword. He looked around in confusion, and then there was a burst of light nearby. He stepped back and stared as he saw Q standing there.
No longer wearing his toga, Q was clad in the classic gladiatorial style of ancient Rome. He was wearing armor on his chest and a large helmet with a red bristle on the top. An armored skirt swirled around his legs, coming to mid-thigh. He had a shield on his left arm and was wielding a sword that appeared larger than the one McHenry had.
“You should consider yourself honored,” Q informed him. “It’s very rare that the emperor actually decides to engage in combat himself.”
“You’re no emperor,” said McHenry. “You’re just an omnipotent being with way too much time on his hands.”
“A fair point,” admitted Q. “Nevertheless, let’s get to it, shall we?”
McHenry wasn’t certain, but it seemed to him that Q looked larger than he had before. He supposed it was perfectly possible. He knew that the form Q had taken was simply to give human beings some source of reference. He had no idea what Q actually looked like.
McHenry slowly moved to the side, his sword at the ready. “Seems to me I’m a bit overmatched. You have armor and a shield. I just have this sword.”
“That is true,” Q said. “But I’m afraid you’ll just have to chalk that up to one of th
e unfair advantages of being in charge.”
With no further words, Q attacked.
McHenry realized that the one thing he had going for him was that when it came to hand-to-hand combat, Q was completely incompetent. That made sense. He was omnipotent, so he didn’t have experience with close-quarters battle. McHenry backed up, studying Q’s assault. Q didn’t even seem to understand that the purpose of the sword was to try and wound his opponent. He swung the blade wildly and was having no luck coming in contact with McHenry. When Q’s sword came anywhere near McHenry, he was able to bat it away without much difficulty.
It’s a trick. It has to be a trick. He’s trying to lull me into a false sense of security.
As seconds ticked by, that did not seem to be the case. Q continued to be unable to pose even the slightest threat to McHenry, who blocked Q’s attacks with relative ease. Finally McHenry decided to make an offensive move. He swung his blade, and it glanced off Q’s shield, but the move put Q slightly off balance and McHenry slammed his foot forward. The blow landed squarely in Q’s gut, and he was knocked backward, almost tripping over his own feet. The crowd roared a cheer.
Q blinked and seemed to notice McHenry for the first time. “You have the nerve to actually kick me? Are you out of your mind?”
“Says the man who set up a gladiatorial arena. Come on, Q, let’s just end this.”
“Yes,” said Q, nodding. “An ending seems appropriate.”
A slow smile crossed his face and Q attacked again. This time was not like the last time. This time the assault was fast and organized and brutal.
McHenry blocked blow after blow with his sword, but the thrusts were now striking home. For every five shots that he intercepted, a sixth would slip through, and in less than a minute he was bleeding from half a dozen shallow cuts. He got the feeling that they were shallow by design. That Q could have made deeper, even fatal assaults, but he was choosing not to in order to prolong it.
The crowd gasped collectively every time Q landed a blow. McHenry’s uniform tunic was becoming tattered and soaked with blood. McHenry was starting to stagger as he desperately tried to keep Q at bay, but failed.
“Did you truly think it would be that easy?” Q asked. “Did you believe that I couldn’t defeat you whenever I wanted?”
McHenry felt his legs starting to waver. He lunged at Q, bringing his blade around, but once more it rebounded off Q’s shield. Q then stepped to the side and brought the flat of his blade around, striking McHenry on the side of the head. McHenry cried out and fell. Quickly he rolled onto his back, but Q brought his foot down on McHenry’s chest, immobilizing him.
“Tell you what,” Q said as he stood over him, pointing his sword down at him. “If you give the woman and child over to me, I will let you live.”
“Go to hell,” snarled McHenry.
“Now wait a moment. Don’t be so quick to dismiss the offer. Robin Lefler already volunteered her life to save you once. Don’t you think she’d do it again if you gave her the opportunity?”
“Probably,” he said grimly. “But it’s not an option I’m going to give her.”
“Why not? Don’t you think she’s entitled to make that decision?”
“No, she’s not. She’s not thinking clearly. Besides, my life isn’t her decision to make. You want to kill me? Kill me. But spare them.”
“Or I could kill all of you. It’s what Shintar Han wants.”
“You don’t give a damn what Shintar Han wants.”
“No, I really don’t,” said Q. “I just find it endlessly interesting to see what sentient creatures will do to each other in order to gain power. But all right, McHenry. If this is what you truly want, I will kill you and allow Robin and the baby to live. Would you find that acceptable?”
“Yes, I would,” said McHenry with a sigh. He really was relieved; he had managed to accomplish his goal. Robin and her son would live. If he died, well . . . so what? One less godlike individual walking around. Robin would mourn him, but eventually she would move on, and everything would be fine.
He braced himself as Q stood over him, drawing back the sword, ready to slash it down into him.
And suddenly the world dissolved around him.
iv.
HE SAT UP, confused, as he saw that he was in a spaceship. It was relatively small, and a being that he quickly sensed was a hologram was standing over him.
“Welcome aboard the Lyla,” said the cheerful blonde. “I’m her. I need you to get off the transporter platform now.”
“The what?” He hadn’t fully processed what she was talking about, but he did what she said. He realized that, yes, he was in fact on a transporter platform, large enough for a single person only. The transporter started to hum, and it activated once more. A familiar figure began to materialize, and he gasped in astonishment. It was Robin Lefler. She was holding Cwansi tightly and was clearly as confused as McHenry was. “What—” she started to say, and when her gaze fell upon McHenry, she cried out in joy. By this point he had gotten up off the deck and was embracing her eagerly.
“Well, well,” came a sardonic voice. “It worked. Nice to see.”
They turned and gaped as Xyon approached them. “How was your trip?”
“You beamed us off of New Thallon?” asked Robin.
“I did indeed. Wasn’t all that difficult. Just set my sensors to locate the humans on the planet’s surface. Fortunately enough, you were the only two there. So it was rather easy to find you.”
“But why?” said Robin. “Why are you here? Why did you come for us?”
McHenry released his hold on Robin and turned to face Xyon, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Let me guess,” he said thoughtfully. “Guilty conscience.”
“What? How did you come to that conclusion?”
“It’s not all that difficult. How did you even know that we were there?”
“Word spreads quickly these days.”
“No.” McHenry shook his head. “Not word of this. Calhoun wouldn’t tell anyone. He wasn’t the least bit proud of losing Robin by taking her off the ship. He would keep that to himself. If he didn’t, how would you have picked up the Starfleet transmission?”
“I have ways.”
“No you don’t. You’re lying, Xyon.” He approached him, his fists flexing. “I strongly suggest you do not lie to me. I don’t do especially well with being lied to. You have about five seconds to come clean to us, and if you don’t, I swear to God I will throw you off your ship. Q isn’t here suppressing my powers, so I can do pretty much anything I want.”
Xyon looked astounded. “You would do that to the man who saved your life?”
“If he was responsible for endangering it in the first place, you bet I would. I’m giving you one chance to be honest with me, and then I’m taking you for a walk outside.”
“All right, all right,” Xyon said, sounding rather annoyed at being pressured. “You want the truth? Fine, here’s the truth: I was the reason that the Thallonians were able to find Excalibur.”
“You? How?”
“I put a tracker on the ship. Then I told them the frequency so they would be able to find it.”
They stared at him, wide-eyed. “Why the hell did you do that?” demanded Robin.
“Because I wanted to make things difficult for my father. Because I was hired by Shintar Han to help bring you there. Because of any one of half a dozen reasons, but mostly because I was being a creep. There. Are you happy?”
McHenry considered the question a moment and suddenly he swung his fist around and caught the unprepared Xyon on the chin. Xyon gasped and went down. McHenry stood over him, shaking out his fist. “I’m getting a little happy now.”
“Ow!” said Xyon, holding his chin. “You didn’t have to do that!”
“Actually, I pretty much did. But I could have done a lot worse.
Be happy I’m not kicking you while you’re down there.”
“You’re all heart,” grumbled Xyon.
“So now what?” said Robin.
“Now? Now I bring you back to Excalibur. It shouldn’t be too hard for me to find it.”
And suddenly Q flared into existence. He was no longer dressed as a Roman emperor but was now wearing a Starfleet uniform. He looked extremely annoyed, his arms folded across his chest. “Well, that was a cheap trick,” he said.
McHenry stood protectively in front of Robin, as if he could intercede in anything that Q might want to do. “It’s over, Q. Get out of here.”
“Where the hell did he come from?” asked Xyon, clearly having no idea what was going on. “Who is this?”
“This is Q,” said Robin. “Your new best friend.”
Lyla stepped forward and put a hand on Xyon’s shoulder. “Q is an omnipotent being, Xyon. You cannot do anything against him.”
“Really?” said Xyon. “Let’s find out.”
Abruptly he had a phaser in his hand, and he fired at point-blank range. The beam bounded off of Q and harmlessly exploded off the bulkhead. Q stared blandly at them and said, “Was that supposed to prove something?”
“Just . . . testing,” said Xyon, lowering the phaser.
“Well, that’s marvelous. So glad you had that opportunity. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. You, McHenry, Robin, and her little child. What to do with you?”
“Let us go. This thing is over,” said McHenry.
“You keep saying that,” said Q, “but it’s not over. Not really. Not as long as the child remains here. He’s the real issue, you see. You, Robin, remain torn. On the one hand you want to be able to wander around with him, free of any problems and responsibilities. On the other hand, you feel you have unfinished business on New Thallon. Your husband died there in his attempts to lead his people, and you feel that as long as they remain leaderless, the endeavor that cost him his life is unfulfilled. The baby remains the tipping point. Do you disagree?”
For a long moment, Robin was silent. Then, slowly, she nodded. “No. That’s pretty much right.”