by Peter David
Thul’s eyes shrivelled, collapsed into their sockets, his tongue began to blacken even as he voicelessly screamed his terror, the skin started to pucker and blister, pus oozing out from sores that had appeared spontaneously all over.
Picard was transfixed, and then it suddenly occurred to him that if the damned thing became airborne, this was going to be the perfect time to get the hell out of there. He tore his gaze away from Thul and ran like mad.
His legs and arms pumping, Picard dashed down the corridor. He hoped that he remembered where the docking area was, and also prayed that he would be able to find a means of escape once he got there. The sphere rumbled around him and he knew there wasn’t much time left as the systems ate themselves, one explosion feeding upon another. Bleakly, he wondered what had happened to Calhoun and Vara Syndra, or Vandelia, or whatever her name was. He could only pray that they were all right and that somehow they were going to manage to get themselves clear.
He saw a sign marked for one of the docking areas, turned right, and saw huge double doors that were just sitting open, which led to the docking ports. He dashed out into the vast docking area which opened out to the interior of the sphere. From that viewpoint, he could see flame erupting from spots throughout the sphere. The far side of the sphere was already a massive wall of flame, and it was spreading wildly. He was witnessing the death of a technological marvel. From a purely scientific and even aesthetic view, it was a tremendous waste and tragedy.
All this he saw from where he was standing. What he did not see were any ships. He spotted the last of the small transports moving away, and there was nothing left in his immediate area. There were other docking ports, but they were too far away for him to get to in time.
He saw the firewall racing toward him from either side. There was nowhere to go.
He took a deep breath, faced his death, and thought about a book his mother had read to him several times in his youth: Peter Pan. He thought of the time that Peter was crouched on the rock, having just been stabbed by Hook, unable to fly, unable to save himself, and he had looked at the rising tide and mused philosophically about his impending doom.
“To die,” Picard whispered, “would be a great adventure.”
At which point he promptly disappeared in a haze of sparkles.
Seconds later, he materialized in what appeared to be a small freighter. He looked around in confusion…and then a smile broke across his face. “I should have known.”
“Yes, you should have,” Calhoun said reprovingly from the control panel. He hadn’t even bothered to turn around. “I was on my last sweep of the place looking for you. You certainly took your sweet time getting somewhere that I could see you. Thanks to you, I’ve had to cut this a lot thinner than I would have liked.”
“It’s getting thinner still. Where’s the woman?”
“Dead,” Calhoun said tonelessly. “Darg killed her. But considering there’s not two molecules of him left to rub together, I doubt he’ll be hurting anyone else. Where’s Thul?”
“The same, but more grisly. Get us out of here.”
“That’s why you’ve been captain longer than me. You know how to make the tough decisions.”
Even as he spoke, he was sending the freighter hurtling toward one of the few areas that was not completely aflame. The sphere was collapsing on itself, gigantic flaming shards smashing into one another. Calhoun coolly maneuvered the shuttle between the debris, dodging left and right as he called out, “Hold on. This is going to be a little tricky.”
He saw an escape route and went for it, and the freighter darted forward just before a huge piece of debris could smash into it. Then they were clear of the sphere, moving away from it faster and faster as the last of the explosions utterly consumed it.
Other ships were all around, scattered, confused, unsure of where to go or what to do. Then, after a few moments, they slowly started to move away from the area of the destruction. Picard watched them go, shaking his head, and—like an old-time policeman—he said, “Show’s over. Nothing more to see here.”
“Yes,” Calhoun said slowly, “yes…there is.”
He was angling his freighter toward one particular ship. “What is it, Mac?”
“That’s Thul’s ship. But you said he’s dead.”
“He is.”
“Then I’m going to take a shot in the dark,” Calhoun said.
He touched several controls and Picard heard the distinctive whine of phasers powering up. “What are you doing?”
But Calhoun had opened up a ship-to-ship channel. “Lodec. I have you targeted. I’m coming in at 273 Mark 2. This is it, Lodec.”
There was dead silence as Picard looked in puzzlement at Calhoun…and then Lodec’s voice came back over the channel. “Hello, Calhoun.”
“Do you want an opportunity to fight back…or should I just blow you out of space?”
“Calhoun, back off,” Picard said sharply, “this is absurd—”
Calhoun looked at him with blazing eyes and said, “No. This is personal. Well, Lodec?”
Again a moment of silence, and then Lodec said, “I was going to let you go, you know. In the corridor. I saw you there, and I was all set to keep my silence. And you had to draw on me, so that I thought you were going to shoot me. You left me no choice. But it’s all about choices, isn’t it, Calhoun? So fine. I leave you the choice you didn’t leave me. Shoot or don’t. It’s of no consequence to me. Death will just silence the voices that have been crying out in my head for so many years. Do as you like.”
With that, he cut the connection.
Picard said nothing. He simply watched Calhoun, who stared out at the ship that was hanging there, a huge target. It offered no defense. It would have been so easy.
And then, unmolested…the ship moved off. A moment later, it kicked into warp space and was gone.
Picard let out a slow, relieved breath, and he patted Calhoun on the back. “Mac…believe it or not…I know how difficult it is to let go of the need for revenge. But—and I don’t mean to sound patronizing here—I think you’ve taken a tremendous step forward in your personal growth and—”
“The phaser banks are empty,” Calhoun said.
“What?” Picard leaned forward and looked. It was true. The phasers had powered up, but had been unable to sustain it.
“They’re empty. And it’s not just them. Thul must have drained the ship’s systems. Engines, life support, all going. He had quite a knack for thinking ahead. Here was a man who thought, Well, just in case Calhoun and/or Picard escape, I’ll leave them just enough power to get away. To make them think they’re safe. And then all the systems will…”
The lights in the freighter suddenly went out.
“…cut out,” he concluded.
On earth, the closing ceremonies for the bicentennial went without a hitch. As they did, Jellico turned to Nechayev and said, “Well, well…it would appear that we got all concerned for nothing.”
“Apparently so. Unless, of course, someone just saved the galaxy as we know it from total disaster and we’re simply unaware of it.”
“I doubt it,” Jellico replied. “I mean, I think I’d know if something like that had happened.”
“Yes,” said Nechayev. “It’d be fairly difficult to slip something like that past you, Eddie.”
Picard and Calhoun spent the next several minutes seeing what they could possibly do to reverse the situation, but nothing seemed to present itself. Furthermore, all the other ships had moved out by that point. Not that their being present would have offered any great options. Calhoun and Picard had already been named as traitors and enemies by Thul. Finally, options expended, they simply sat there, looking at each other.
“Had you already decided not to kill Lodec before you saw the phasers were out? Or did you notice that the phasers were out and realize that the decision was out of your hands?”
Calhoun said nothing.
“You’re not going to answer, are you.”
“Nice try, Mac.”
“All right…I suppose I knew I wouldn’t get away with it that easily. The truth, Picard…is that I was in the same situation once before. The indecision led to my resigning from Starfleet because the universe was very black and white to me. This time around…I have to admit that, once again, I don’t know what I would have done. I still might have given in to the impulse for vengeance. Or I might not. I’m just not sure. But at least this time, I’m not going to let the lack of knowledge get to me. It took me a long time and a lot of learning to realize that it’s all right not to know everything…including every aspect of oneself. That it’s acceptable to live within the shades of gray on occasion. Good enough?”
“Not really. But I suppose it will have to do.”
They sat there for a time more, and then Calhoun said, “What are you thinking about?”
“All the people I’ve known. All the opportunities I’ve had in my life, and whether I would do it all the same. About Thul’s son, and whether his death could have been prevented…whether I could have done anything differently, for if I had, all this could have been avoided. Lives wouldn’t have been wasted and lost, and incredible forays of ingenuity wouldn’t have been dedicated to such a useless endeavor as a hollow need to destroy in the quest for useless revenge. I’m thinking about the universe in general, of free will, and of man’s place within that universe and whether we really have a place at all, or how much we matter in the grand scheme of things. I’m wondering…what the ultimate answers to all reality are, and whether we’ll ever get to know them.” He paused, feeling the chill of space beginning to work its way into his bones. “And you? What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking about how nice it would be if the Excalibur showed up and rescued us.”
Picard laughed softly to himself, starting to feel a bit lightheaded as the carbon dioxide began to build up. And at that moment, space in front of them rippled, a hole in the space-time continuum opened up, and the starship Excalibur dropped into normal space a mere five hundred kilometers away.
Picard gaped at the sight and then turned to Calhoun, who maintained an absolute deadpan as he said, “I don’t know about the ultimate ones, but I guess some answers come more quickly than others.”
XXIV.
CALHOUN AND SHELBY were escorting Picard and Riker to the transporter room. “Sela’s already been beamed aboard the Enterprise, as per your request, Captain,” said Calhoun. “I’m afraid there’s been no change in her condition.”
“I’m hoping that Starfleet will be able to give her the help she needs,” Picard said. “Perhaps even leave her better than when she started. No matter what it is that she’s become…she remains the daughter of an old, dear friend. If there’s any way to salvage the influence of the good person that Tasha Yar was, then we have to take it.”
“Looking for the best in people. It’s comforting to know that some things about you don’t change, Captain,” Calhoun said.
“It is equally comforting, Captain, to know that some things about you do change,” Picard replied with a carefully neutral expression, which drew a wary grin from Calhoun. Picard continued, “Number One…how went your temporary assignment to the Excalibur?”
“Good question,” seconded Calhoun. “Commander Shelby, did you two get on with each other? Or were there any problems I should know about?”
Shelby and Riker cast a glance at each other, and then Shelby said, “Actually…it went about as expected.”
“It was a learning experience…for all concerned,” Riker added.
“It would appear, Captain Calhoun,” Picard said, “that the crew here is beginning to imitate your rather enigmatic way of expressing yourself. Perhaps you—”
He stopped in his tracks.
A dark haired woman was approaching him. And she looked like…but…it couldn’t possibly be…
“Leaving, Commander? I hope you enjoyed your stay. Well, have to rush. Good day to you,” said Morgan Lefler as she breezed past.
Picard gaped after her, then looked back to Riker. “What was…was that…how?”
“Captain,” Riker said in a firm but understanding voice, “I’ve learned that around this ship…it’s best not to ask too many questions.”
“Is it finished yet?”
Burgoyne lay on the examination bed in sickbay while Doctor Selar studied the readouts. “Almost, Burgoyne. But let me see if I understand this. Medical scans and similar procedures are privileged information…but you want me to post this scan publicly? To everyone on the ship?”
“Yes. That’s correct,” Burgoyne confirmed. “I’m tired of everyone congratulating me on my pregnancy. It’s gotten very old, very quickly. And some of them even think I’m being coy when I deny it. So if I just publicize it in one shot, with the scan confirming that I’m not pregnant, that should put an end to it.”
“That sounds like a commendable plan. I wish I could oblige.”
“But Selar, I told you, I’m waiving the confidentiality—”
“It is not a matter of that. But if you wish to circulate this scan as proof of what you are claiming, that is not going to be possible.”
“What?” Burgoyne was completely confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You are pregnant.”
“What?” The blood drained from Burgoyne’s face. “But…but I can’t be…”
“You are. Look for yourself.”
Burgoyne took one look at the readout and fainted dead away.
Selar stood there and regarded hir with very mild amusement. And then McHenry emerged from hiding nearby and grinned down at the unconscious Hermat. “Well, well, Burgy. You told me you were pregnant, except you really weren’t…and I passed out…and you teased me about it. So now, with the good doctor’s help here, you get told you’re pregnant, except you’re really not…but you handled the unexpected fake news as well as I did. For some reason, I find that very comforting. Don’t you think that’s comforting?”
“I think you are all insane, and I think I am just as insane for cooperating,” sniffed Selar. And she turned away to hide the slight smile that she couldn’t quite repress.
Prologue
AS GOVERNOR GERRID THUL WALKED through the heavy wooden doors and entered the throne room of his emperor, Tae Cwan, he reflected on how different the place looked.
After all, the three prior occasions on which Thul had visited were all elaborate state gatherings of nobles and high-ranking officials in the empire. He was only a small part of them, though his standing had grown surely and steadily over the years from a respected general to the governorship of an outpost.
But this, the governor told himself, looking around at the cavernous, high-ceilinged hall and the splendid furnishings…this was different. He frowned. He was all alone now, without a crowd to hide him.
And at the end of the rich, blue carpet that bisected the chamber’s white stone floor, the illustrious Tae Cwan himself waited for Thul. The blue-robed emperor sat between two armed guards on a chair of carved night-wood that had given his forebears comfort for more than a thousand years.
It was daunting. Or it would have been, if the governor were one who allowed himself to be daunted. But he hadn’t risen to a rank of esteem and power by being timid.
Lifting his chin, Thul set foot on the carpet and approached Tae Cwan’s presence. The chamber magnified every sound—the flutter of his cape, the padding of his feet on the blue path, even the drawing of his breath—as if the room weren’t filled with simple air at all, but something infinitely more sensitive and unstable.
Finally, the governor
reached the end of the carpet and stopped. His emperor gazed down at him from the height of his chair, his features long and perfect, his expression a tranquil one.
Thul inclined his head out of respect—or at least that was the nature of the gesture. Then he smiled his best smile. “I believe you know why I have come,” he told Tae Cwan, his voice echoing in the chamber like stormwaves on a rocky beach.
“I believe I do,” the emperor replied without inflection, though his voice echoed just as loudly.
Abruptly, he gestured—and a door opened behind him. A couple of attractive handmaidens came through, followed by someone else in the deep blue color that could be worn only by imperial blood. It was Tae Cwan’s younger sister, Mella.
The resemblance was difficult to ignore. However, as often happens in a family, the clarity of feature that made the brother a handsome man made the sister look plain and austere.
Nonetheless, the governor turned his smile of smiles on Mella Cwan, and the woman’s eyes lit up in response. Dark and vulnerable, her eyes were by far her best attribute.
“Proceed,” said the emperor.
Thul inclined his head again. “As you wish, Honored One.” He paused, as if gathering himself. “I have come to profess my love and admiration for your sister, the Lady Mella.”
A demure smile pulled at the corners of the woman’s mouth. Unfortunately, it didn’t make her any more pleasant to look at.
“I ask you for permission to make her my wife,” Thul continued.
Tae Cwan considered the governor for a moment. He had to know that nothing would make his sister happier than the prospect of marriage to Thul. And yet, the governor noted, the emperor hesitated.
It was not a good sign, Thul knew. Not a good sign at all.
“I withhold the permission you seek,” said Tae Cwan, his expression stark and empty of emotion.
To the governor, it was more than a disappointment. It was like a blow across his face, with all the pain and shame such a blow would have awakened in him.