by Peter David
But before they could take the discussion beyond that, Moke had entered, to Calhoun’s astonishment. He didn’t know what it was the boy wanted and, at that point, didn’t much care. But he was brought up short when Moke told them of what he’d been seeing.
“McHenry?” Several voices chorused at once.
Burgoyne’s was the loudest. S/he was staring fixedly at the place where Moke had been pointing. “Mark?” s/he said, and s/he squinted and stared, then looked away and then back again, and then s/he gasped, “Oh…my God…Mark…?”
“Where?” demanded Calhoun.
“Right there!” S/he pointed with quivering finger. “He’s right there! I thought I saw him earlier, but I just…I thought I was imagining it, thought I was crazy! I figured there was no way. He’s still lying in sickbay, he’s…it isn’t possible, is it…?”
“When dealing with the unknown,” said the one who’d been called Spock, “it is generally wise to approach situations from the point of view of what is possible, rather than what is not.”
“Moke.” Calhoun was down on one knee, holding the boy by the shoulders. “Can you communicate with him? The bearded man. Can you ask him if his name is Woden?”
“He can hear you, Mac. He’s standing right there.”
“Oh. Of course.” Calhoun tried to repress a smile and didn’t entirely succeed. “All right…what did he say?”
“He said yes. Among others.”
“Can he restore McHenry to life?” asked Burgoyne with urgency.
Moke listened carefully, then said, “He said it depends upon what happens. With the others.”
“I don’t understand,” said Shelby. “Why is it that you can hear and see him, Moke?”
Moke blinked in surprise. “I dunno. I just…well, I just could. I never thought to ask him.”
Calhoun marveled at that, although he reasoned that perhaps he shouldn’t. Children, after all, were the most accepting of creatures, their reality an ever-changing and fluid environment.
Then he saw Moke pale, and his eyes widen. “Moke?” said Calhoun. “Moke…what is…?”
“He…” Moke’s lips suddenly looked bone dry. “He…he said…”
Once again Calhoun took him gently by the shoulders, except this time he could practically feel the boy trembling. “Moke…what did he s—?”
“He said he’s my father.”
The words thudded in the air like mallets. Moke began to shake more violently, and it was all Calhoun could do to steady him. He looked in the direction that Moke was staring, as if he could see the elder god himself.
It was insane. It was a completely insane notion.
And then he thought of how vague Moke’s mother had been about the boy’s patrimony. And of the incredible stormlike powers that the boy had possessed…powers that were certainly consistent with someone who had a filial connection to an alleged thunder god.
And just like that, it suddenly became a much less insane notion.
When Mackenzie Calhoun had come to Moke’s world, Moke had latched on to him, turning him into a surrogate father even though Calhoun had made abundantly clear to the lad that he was not at all responsible for bringing the boy into the world. That had deterred Moke’s devotion only slightly, and when his mother had passed away, she had given the boy over into Calhoun’s keeping. He’d done the best he could with him, even though occasionally Calhoun felt utterly at sea.
Yet now, out of the blue, the mystery of Moke’s parentage was solved, except all it did was evoke even more mysteries.
Moke looked up at him, wide-eyed, stunned, and obviously not a little scared. “Is…can that…is…Mac, is he…?”
For one of the few times in his life, Calhoun had absolutely no idea what to say. “It’s…I suppose it’s possible, Moke. I don’t know. But this I do know,” and now he stood and, feeling a bit foolish, addressed the empty air. “These Beings…these fellow creatures of yours…it’s clear that they want to spread their dominion over much more than Danter. The problem is, I’m not exactly sure whose side you’re supposed to be on. I swear to God, though…if you’re ruthlessly manipulating the hopes and dreams of this boy as part of some twisted game…”
“It’s not a game,” Moke said suddenly. Then he said to Calhoun, chagrined, “I…I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just saying what he said. He said it’s not a game.”
“I get that, Moke.”
“Why is he invisible?” asked Mueller. “Why is he communicating this way instead of just appearing to us, as the others have…?”
“If we are to believe that he is endeavoring to aid us,” Spock said, “then the logical assumption is that this condition was, in some way, inflicted upon him by others of his kind.”
“He says that’s right,” said Moke. “He says you remind him of Pan.”
Spock made some sort of odd grunt.
“It’s not easy for me to hear him,” Moke said. “He kind of…of flickers in and out. Sometimes I catch a whole sentence, sometimes only a word. I think he said just now that he’s able to talk a little more directly through me because the Beings aren’t as strong as they were,” Moke continued.
This prompted bewildered glances among the officers. “Not as strong,” said Shelby. “They annihilated that Tholian ship with what seemed to be minimal effort. If that’s them in their weakened state, I’d hate to see them when they’re firing on all cylinders.”
“He says…What?” Moke was addressing the corner of the room. He looked as if he was straining to hear. “The…worshippers are key,” said Moke.
“What?” More puzzled looks. “Worshippers are key?” asked Kebron. “Key to what? If—”
“Of course,” said Spock in such a way that it was the closest Calhoun had seen the Vulcan come to expressing annoyance with himself…or at all. “Of course. It is obvious. Painfully obvious. I am a fool.”
“Then we’re all fools,” said Calhoun, “because I’m still not entirely certain what you’re talking about or what’s going on.”
“You have no reason to feel that way, Captain,” Spock told him with certainty, “because you have no reason to have figured out what is happening here. I, however, have no excuse, for I have encountered this before.”
Slowly he began to circle the room, and it appeared as if he was talking more to himself than to anyone else at that point. “Going all the way back to the Enterprise’s encounter with Apollo, there has been one main area of consistency in the behavior of these Beings. That is their desire to be worshipped…prayed to. A wise man once asked, ‘What does God need with a starship?’ One might also wonder…‘What do gods need with worshippers?’ ”
“But they’re not gods,” Calhoun said firmly. “They’re…Beings. Beings of energy…”
“In a humanoid form,” Gleau chimed in. He had been standing there with a distant, even annoyed air that so much attention was being paid to Moke, and that information was being gathered through this bizarre manner. But with the flow of ideas, he was starting to go along with it, even build upon it. “But even energy beings need sustenance of some sort.”
“I have encountered creatures on several occasions,” said Spock, “that actually derived nourishment from such things as emotions. Usually negative emotions, such as fear or anger.”
Mueller looked at Spock with something akin to be-mused wonderment and asked, “Is there anything you haven’t encountered?”
Spock gave it a moment’s thought. “No,” he decided.
“Is this right, Moke?” asked Calhoun. “Ask your…friend. Is what we’re saying correct?”
“He’s nodding,” said Moke. “I think it’s getting harder for him to talk…”
“So what we’re dealing with here,” Shelby now said, “are creatures that draw their power from positive emotions—the worship—that people feel for them.”
“And also from doubt,” added Calhoun. “If an opponent becomes concerned that the Beings will triumph, they derive strength from that as
well.”
“If, however, they are of the same type of creature as I have encountered,” said Spock, “thriving on psychic energy…then their outward appearance is a sort of construct, to provide frame of reference for onlookers…not unlike the Organians.”
“Mr. Spock…I’m sorry, Ambassador Spock,” Gleau said. “Not to sound foolish, but I’ve taken a special interest in your career. In fact, you were the subject of my dissertation at the Academy.”
“How exciting this must be for you then,” said Mueller dryly.
Gleau ignored her, instead continuing to address Spock. “I remember studying that incident with Apollo. During that encounter, didn’t you destroy some sort of ‘energy source’ of his?”
“Yes. In the shape of a place of worship.”
“All right. So I’m thinking,” Gleau said, “that the temple was a sort of repository, a final battery of absorbed energy that Apollo had been storing. So I’m speculating that such energy has a shelf life; eventually, over enough time, it dissipates.”
“It would make sense,” said Spock. “It would explain why he so needed the Enterprise crew to worship him. That worship was what he required to sustain his power and form.”
“So let’s theorize, then, that when the Beings first confronted us, they were in a weakened state,” said Calhoun.
Burgoyone looked stunned that Calhoun would even suggest it. “Weakened state? Sir, I seem to recall they came damned close to destroying us!”
“But they didn’t,” Calhoun reminded him. “They didn’t…because the Trident showed up. Because when the Trident showed up, we believed that we’d been saved. That we were going to be able to fight back. And the Trident came barreling in with no preconceptions as to whether she would win or lose. They were just determined to win.”
“What are you saying, Captain?” asked Si Cwan. “That the Excalibur was vulnerable to the attack…”
“Because we believed we were. Yes. Because we believed we were in danger from them…because we believed that they were—if not gods, at least beings with nearly godlike power—that gave them the energy they needed, like vampires. Our own belief in their ability to hurt us…gave them that very ability. That’s why they’re encouraging races to attack them. They want word of their power to spread, because the more it is believed that they are invincible, the moreso they will become. Basically they’re living incarnations of the term ‘self-fulfilling prophecy.’ ”
“That’s a hell of a theory, Mac,” said Shelby, looking somewhat dubious. “Moke, what does your invisible friend have to say about all this…”
“I…” Moke blinked. “I don’t see him. He’s…he’s gone. And so is McHenry.”
“Where did they go?”
“I don’t know!” said Moke with growing urgency. “I don’t know!”
iii.
“I don’t know…how much longer…”
The Old Father’s words echoed Moke’s, except they were outside the conference room.
McHenry had found himself becoming oddly accustomed to his twilight existence, if for no other reason than the constancy of Woden’s company. Now, though, Woden was looking shaken and weak, even for a ghost. They stood in the corridor, and McHenry wondered—not for the first time—how two beings who were insubstantial could stand anywhere at all. But that was the least of his concerns.
“You don’t know how much longer what? What’s going on?”
The Old Father let out a slow breath, which was rather ironic when one considered that he had no reason to breathe. “The energy of belief that the others are tapping into…I can access as well, even from my current state. With greater effort, and not to as impressive an effect, but I can accomplish it. The others, however…they’re taking a great interest in what transpires on this vessel. I can sense them doing so. I’m doing what I can to block them, however.”
“What, you’re saying there’s essentially a whole battle going on that the captain and the others have no idea is happening?”
The elder god forced a smile. “You would be amazed how often that is the way of things. The truth is that mortals only perceive a fraction of what is happening in the universe. They think they know so much, but truly comprehend so very, very little. It is the job of higher beings to help keep them safe. To protect them.”
“We can do a fine job of taking care of ourselves, thanks,” said McHenry.
“Oh, and you’ve attended to that wonderfully in your case, haven’t you.”
McHenry scowled.
“The problem is, I cannot maintain my defenses indefinitely,” said Woden. “I am old and tired, and have not fought in quite some time. It takes a lot out of me. So we must hope that your associates hurry to their conclusions while still under my protection.”
“And if they don’t?”
The Old Father stared at him. “They’d better” was all he said.
iv.
Spock was no longer walking around the conference lounge. Instead he was seated, his fingers steepled thoughtfully. “When we faced a creature that thrived on fear,” he said at last, “Captain Kirk gave the crew tranquilizers so that the crew no longer feared it—and the creature was weakened. Likewise an energy being that siphoned hostile energy during a manufactured series of battles with a crew of Klingons was thwarted when the Klingons and we ceased hostilities. What we need to do is find a way to sever these beings from their source of strength.”
“But it’s a very different situation here,” Si Cwan pointed out. “In your case, you simply had to deal with the minds and actions of the crew of the Enterprise. You’re essentially saying that the crews of the Excalibur and Trident, in going into combat with the Beings, cannot be concerned about defeat.”
“Basically, yes,” Calhoun said reluctantly. “If we fear failure…if we believe that the Beings are superior to us, or can destroy us…then we more or less guarantee our own defeat.”
“Now, there’s a challenge,” said Shelby with a significant lack of enthusiasm. “It’s like saying, ‘Don’t think of pink elephants.’ ”
“But it’s more involved than that,” said Mueller. “What you’ve been saying is that the Beings—if we’re correct about this—are drawing their strength from the Danteri. It almost doesn’t matter if we believe in them or not, because the Danteri do. In order to dampen the strength of the Beings…”
“We would have to cut off their energy at the source,” said Spock. “We would have to—in short—obliterate the Danteri.”
There was a momentary silence, and then Calhoun said what he suspected they all figured he’d say: “I’m not seeing a downside of that.”
“Mac,” Shelby said, not without sympathy, “I know better than anyone here how you feel about the Danteri. But I can’t believe that even you would advocate genocide.”
He grimaced and then slowly nodded. “You’re right,” he admitted. “Besides, just to be pragmatic about it…I very much doubt the Beings would simply stand by and allow us to annihilate their root of psychic sustenance. That still leaves us, though, trying to determine the best way to proceed.”
“We’d be wise to determine it sooner rather than later,” said Kebron. “My suspicion is that the Tholians weren’t bluffing. That they’ve forces and allies who will be showing up here before long to launch a full-out assault. Except they’ll already be showing up with the knowledge that the Beings easily destroyed one vessel. That will sow the seeds of doubt which the Beings will bring to full bloom, destroying those who oppose them, elevating Danteri worship, and very likely convincing assorted races that they should join the Danteri in bowing down to this pantheon of gods.”
They all stared at him.
“When the hell did he get so chatty?” demanded Si Cwan.
“Ah, Si Cwan,” laughed Kebron. “How I’ve missed you.”
“You hate me!”
“Oh, why drag along childish feuds into phases of maturity.”
Si Cwan turned to Calhoun and, indicating Kebron, a
sked, “Did he eat ambrosia, too?”
“I’ll explain it later, Ambassador.”
“Yes, it’s really an amusing story,” said Kebron. “You see, in the life cycle of—”
“Later!” Calhoun said in annoyance. He sagged into the nearest chair. “You know, I’m really of mixed feelings on that. Genocidal concerns aside, part of me would dearly love to just stand aside and watch these angry races show up, trying to blow the Danteri to hell and gone. Grozit, we could even justify it on Prime Directive terms.”
“Perhaps,” Shelby agreed. “But there’s every possibility the Beings would triumph, making matters even worse than they already are.”
“I know, I know.”
“Wait…wait a minute,” Gleau said abruptly. He pointed at the bladed weapon that Kebron had laid in the middle of the table early on in the meeting. “That thing is one of their conduits?”
“As near as we can determine, yes. But apparently only they can actually utilize it—”
“We don’t have to utilize it,” said Gleau. “All we have to do is use it to determine the frequency patterns that it operates on and taps into.”
“What…?”
“Oh!” Burgoyne’s eyes widened. “I see where you’re going with this. Once we know those patterns, we can broadcast ‘white noise’ through the sensor arrays.”
“A logical notion,” said Spock. “It might very well serve to scramble the Beings’ ability to ‘feed’ off the mental energies of the Danteri. Cut them off from their source of power.”
Burgoyne’s mind was clearly racing through the logistics. “The thing is, it’s going to need both of the starships, one to cover each side of the planet. Otherwise the planet’s own surface would block the white noise from affecting that side which is opposite the starship.”
“And if we do all that,” Calhoun said, “then the likelihood is that the Beings will come after us. Can this ‘white noise’ be used to block out whatever energies we might feed them ourselves, based upon doubts…?”