by Peter David
“I can’t wait.”
Excalibur
i.
MARK MC HENRY, standing in the sickbay and looking down at his own unmoving body, suddenly staggered and clutched at his chest. He felt as if something had suddenly been yanked away from him, and he had no clue what it was.
Then, suddenly…he knew. He didn’t know how or why he did…but he did.
“Artemis,” he whispered.
And from next to him, almost in his ear, came the voice of the Old Father.
“Yes. Artemis,” he confirmed. “She loved you, you know. Not in any manner that meets the standard definition of sanity…but she loved you.”
“Now what?”
“Now,” said Woden, “it finally ends.”
And that was when Calhoun’s voice came across the ship’s loudspeaker.
ii.
“I can’t wait,” said Mackenzie Calhoun.
He was staring at the image of Danter on the screen, turning leisurely in its orbit. Suddenly from the tactical station, Zak Kebron called out, “Captain. Detecting an energy burst from the planet’s surface.”
The face of Morgan Primus suddenly appeared on the screen. “Confirming,” she said. “Energy surge bearing eighteen mark five. Similar to the energy frequencies generated by the Beings in their previous attack.”
“You still have firm control of conn, Morgan?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Captain,” Robin Lefler spoke up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “For a potential battle situation, wouldn’t it make sense to have, you know…a living person at that station? No offense, Mom.”
“You had a living person at that station,” Morgan reminded her archly. “Fat lot of good it did him.”
“Captain…”
“Lieutenant, your opinion is noted and forgotten,” said Calhoun. “Calhoun to Trident. Captain Shelby, you ready?”
“Ready, Captain Calhoun,” replied Shelby. The Trident was out of sight on the opposite side of the world, so her voice was a comfort to him.
“Robin…put me on with the crew.”
Robin made a quick adjustment at the ops station and nodded. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“Attention all hands,” said Calhoun after a moment. “This vessel is about to be attacked by the same individuals who damaged us so badly in our previous encounter. We have, however, determined the source of their power…and believe it or not…the enemy is us. They will feed on any doubts, any reservations we have, and turn those doubts against us. We cannot permit that to happen.
“This ship…this crew…is more than just a Starfleet crew going through its paces. You are all, every one of you, heroes in your own right. The thing is, even heroes feel fear. They feel it, but they get the job done despite it.
“You have to be more than that. You must feel no fear. You must not waver in your confidence, even for a moment. Each and every one of you must visualize our triumph over these creatures. Visualize it, hold on to it for all it’s worth. Use it as a source of strength to overcome any hesitation or fear you might have, or might even think of having.
“And consider this: Throughout centuries, the greatest legends of mankind have been steeped in eras and times when mere mortals threw themselves against the will of the gods and triumphed over impossible odds. Those mortals are among the greatest, most epic of heroes that have ever existed. Rather than have a moment’s fear over our present situation, think upon the fact that you have the honor, the privilege, the pure joy of being here on an occasion that is positively epic. We face beings who purport to be gods. We fight a fight for control of our own destinies that began millennia ago and ends this day. And all of you, every single one of you, will cherish this opportunity and be able to hold your heads high and say, ‘I was there. I touched greatness. I am an epic hero. I served aboard a ship that carried me to greatness, and I was up to the journey.’
“And I know you are. As your captain, as your leader, as a man privileged to serve with you, I know that each and every one of you are.
“All hands, battle stations. This one is for the book of legends. Calhoun out.”
He paused a long moment then, allowing the silence to thicken. Then he said, “Captain Shelby…you may want to give your own crew some sort of pep talk as well, just to make sure…”
“I simply broadcast yours when you were speaking, Mac,” said Shelby, and even though it was only her voice, he could hear the smile in it. “I felt sure you could do the job for both of us. Good luck.”
“Same to you, Captain.” Then he turned to Ambassador Spock, who was simply standing there, stony faced, looking at the planet below. “Is that what Captain Kirk would have done?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” said Spock. “Either that or he would simply have medicated the entire crew.”
“Oh,” said Calhoun. “Well…that would have worked too, I suppose.”
“Captain,” came Morgan’s voice, “here they come.”
She was right.
They were visible on the screen, and it almost seemed a replay of the previous encounter. A sailing vessel of ancient origin, a trireme, coming straight toward them. Its battering ram protruded in the shape of a giant ram’s head, and it appeared on a collision course.
“Welcome to the party,” Calhoun said calmly.
“Captain,” said Spock, “it should be noted that, once battle is joined, anything can occur. And that the most difficult thing to fight…is water.”
“Water?” said Kebron from tactical.
“Yes…water, Mr. Kebron,” Calhoun agreed. “The ocean. The waves pound you, but you can’t hit it back because it moves wherever you try.”
“Enemy is preparing to engage. Evasive action, Captain?” came Morgan’s voice.
“Targeting incoming vessel,” said Kebron.
“Don’t do anything,” replied Calhoun.
“Nothing?”
“Morgan…we’re going to need you for this, because nothing human can think fast enough. When they start firing, analyze where the missiles are going to hit, and simply roll with it. Preserve the shielding. Captain to all hands,” he continued without pause. “Just so you know, we’re going to be rocking a bit. But we’re not going to be hurt. Nothing they’re going to do can hurt us. And we’re going to rub their noses in that. In fact, if I were you, I’d start feeling sorry for them. Calhoun out.” He turned toward Burgoyne. “Burgy, make sure engineering is keeping the white noise going through the sensor dish.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Here it comes!” called Lefler.
Just as before, arrows came hurtling through the ether of space. They hammered into the Excalibur’s shields, and the starship pitched and yawed with each new salvo. They did not, however, fire back.
“Status report, Mr. Kebron.”
“Shields holding, Captain.”
“Calhoun to all hands. Shields are holding firm. They’re not hurting us. Not at all.”
Again and again, as the trireme hurtled toward them, the darkness of space was alive with the glow of the arrows. And with computer precision, Morgan not only was able to roll with each new attack, but even began dodging some of them entirely. No starship was particularly graceful when it was under impulse power, but in the case of the Excalibur, under Morgan’s guidance, the vessel dipped, twisted, and turned about like a vast dancer.
Closer and closer came the trireme, and still the assault continued to have no effect. The entire time, Calhoun continued to speak to his crew, to exhort them to be utterly convinced that the Beings had no chance. He extolled their bravery, spoke condescendingly of the Beings, reminded them of all the challenges they’d faced before that they’d come through.
“They thought they could defeat us!” Calhoun called, his voice rising as if he were speaking to an array of troops spread across a field, and for the first time in ages, he felt the blood of what he once was, a warlord of Xenex, pounding through him. So sterile had been his time as commander, operating from a
small room rather than being in the midst of his people, waving a sword, shouting encouragement to them and howling that no enemy could possibly stand in opposition to him. He hadn’t even realized it was missing until this very moment, but now, now he would never let it go again. “They thought they could batter us down! But they were wrong! We do not need to believe in them! We believe in ourselves! We will triumph! We will beat them down! We will show them that the United Federation of Planets does not bow, does not break to those who would try to deprive us of our very drive to achieve! Mr. Kebron: All phasers, fire!”
“All phasers firing!” shouted Kebron, and the Excalibur cut loose at the trireme. The phasers cut into the ship and the vessel skidded around, shaken. The Beings were visible upon the ship’s deck and they could be seen falling about, utterly shaken.
“No doubts!”
The phasers fired again.
“No uncertainties!”
And again, hammering down.
“No defeat!”
The trireme spun in space, lurching wildly from side to side, as if the invisible winds that propelled it had turned against it entirely.
iii.
In Calhoun’s quarters, Moke ignored the rocking of the ship. Instead his entire attention was focused on the bearded man before him. He seemed more robust than before, and told Moke that it was because “the battle was joined,” which Moke didn’t understand, and that the Old Father could now “fully concentrate on the business at hand,” which Moke also didn’t understand.
But of all the things that eluded Moke’s comprehension, the whys and wherefores of the bearded man’s turnaround in ability to communicate was the least of them. He had more pressing problems on his mind.
“Why her?” he asked. “Why my mom? Why—?”
“Because,” said the Old Father, smiling benevolently,
“in all my travels, in all the galaxy…I saw her, and was struck by beauty as I’d never seen. Beauty of face. Of form. And of spirit. Pure.”
“Did you love her?”
His great head slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“Why…” He felt his eyes misting up, and he wiped the tears away. “Why didn’t you stay with us?”
“I couldn’t. I would have liked to…but it wasn’t possible.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes, Moke,” said the Old Father gently, “you have to take certain things on faith. The truth of it is…gods make lousy fathers for the most part. But I was watching over you…”
“If you were watching over us,” said Moke, “then why did you let Mom get killed?”
The Old Father sighed heavily at that. “Sometimes, Moke…mortals do foolish things. It would be nice if the gods could stop them from doing it…but then mortals would never learn. Unfortunately, because of that, sometimes very good people die.”
“I know. But I taught them,” Moke said, his eyes glistening once more, but this time there was cold anger and even relishing of what had happened that fateful day. “I taught them. I hurt them. Badly.”
“Yes,” nodded the Old Father. “You did. Using the power you got from me. That was a gift I was able to give to you. I would have liked to do more…but all of us, Moke, all of us…mortal or immortal…we do exactly and precisely just as much as we can, and no more than that. It’s sad but it’s true.”
“Did you bring Mac to me? To our world? Did he land there because of you?”
“Yes,” said the Old Father without hesitation.
And Moke realized that he had no idea whether Woden was lying or not…and made the conscious choice, at that point, not to care.
“Thank you,” he said. “And…thank you for making Mom happy…even if it was only for a little while. She needed it.”
“You’re welcome,” said the Old Father. “And Moke…I need something, too.”
“What is it?” asked Moke, eyebrow raised.
iv.
In sickbay, Mark McHenry screamed.
It was a sound that caught every med tech completely off guard, and a number of them let out similar startled cries as McHenry, who had been lying immobile, in a twilight state between life and death, sat up on the table and gave a startled shriek. Then he coughed violently as air flooded back into his lungs and he fell back.
Dr. Selar, the only person in sickbay who kept her wits about her, ran to McHenry’s side and started shouting for stimulants to be pumped into him. The ship continued to rock under the battle that was ongoing in space, but Selar was only concerned with the fight for a man’s life that had suddenly reignited in sickbay.
And then his eyes snapped open, and he looked at empty space in front of him, and his voice croaked as he said to nothingness, “Yes…I believe in you…”
v.
“Yes, I forgive you,” said Moke to the bearded man who stood before him in Calhoun’s quarters. “And I believe in you.”
And suddenly Moke cried out, thrown back like a puppet yanked by a string, and energy seemed to spiral out of him…
vi.
And suddenly McHenry cried out, thrown back like a puppet yanked by a string, and energy seemed to spiral out of him…
vii.
“Captain,” Morgan suddenly said, “something is happening. Some sort of rift is opening in front of us. Readings similar to a wormhole, but with major variances.”
“Are the Beings causing it?” demanded Calhoun, sitting forward in his chair.
“I believe it unlikely,” Spock said. “Particularly since it appears to be affecting them far more than it is us.”
The Vulcan was right. Ahead of them in space, a whirling vortex of energy had opened up and seemed focused on the trireme. The focus on the screen zoomed in on the Beings, and they were running about, looking panicked. Calhoun was able to make out Anubis, and he was shaking his head violently, seemingly petrified by the energy whorl.
“Get me some specifics!” shouted Calhoun. “What are we facing here?”
“All readings off the scales,” called out Burgoyne.
“We have got to get bigger scales,” muttered Kebron.
Some of the beings actually tried to leap out of the trireme, and they were the first to be hauled, kicking and screaming in the silence of space, toward the vortex. The ancient sailing ship shook violently, began to splinter, and then with a rending and tearing of wood-that-wasn’t-wood, the ship tore in half. The rear spiraled into the energy whirlpool, and more of the Beings fell in that direction as well. Then the prow of the trireme followed, tumbling, and they could just make out Anubis clutching on for dear life, and then there was a release and discharge of energy so blinding that the screen shut off for a moment to preserve the eyesight of anyone watching.
viii.
In sickbay, Mark McHenry—still with the horrific scars and burns that couldn’t be healed—sat fully up once more and swung his legs off the med-lab table.
“Lieutenant, lie down immediately! That’s an order!” snapped Selar.
He paid no attention, shoving her aside and stumbling forward, lurching wildly and grabbing for support.
And suddenly everyone in sickbay saw him.
An old man, older than seemed possible, with a vast white beard and one eye, who wore his years around him like a great cloak that was weighing him down for one, final time.
He sagged forward, and McHenry put his arms out and, much to McHenry’s shock, caught him.
“Did it,” whispered the Old Father. “As…their power drained…mine grew…used the spark of divine…in you and Moke…broke free…did it…can’t…can’t anymore…”
“Rest,” McHenry urged through cracked lips. “Rest now.”
“Oh, I will,” and the Old Father had a twinkle in his eye. “For good. Your turn now. Yours or Moke’s…but I’m thinking…yours…let him grow up some…and…and Mark…get the job done…as I know you can…”
And slowly the Old Father began to dissolve.
And Mark McHenry felt him seeping into every pore, every atom of his b
eing. Felt a glow suffusing him, and power and knowledge, and of course, everything made so much more sense now….
The med techs stepped back as the glow spread further and further, seeming to creep into every corner of the sickbay. Dr. Selar didn’t even think to call for a security team. For all her Vulcan training, she was watching with as much open wonderment as the most emotional human. She felt an unaccustomed wetness on her face and realized it was tears. Quickly, shamed, she wiped them away.
And then there was a vast release of colors and light, a soundless explosion, and the light was gone.
And so was Mark McHenry.
ix.
“Okay,” said Calhoun, staring at the screen, which was devoid of any type of threat. “Would someone care to tell me what just happened?”
“All right,” said McHenry.
He had appeared with no warning, no introductory burst of light. He was just there, looking very much like his old self.
There were gasps of confusion, but McHenry held up his hand in a casually peremptory fashion. “The Beings are gone…well, not gone, exactly. Imprisoned. Sealed off.”
“How?”
“Partly Woden’s power, Captain. Partly mine and Moke’s. And partly yours.” He smiled upon seeing Calhoun’s confusion. “Woden was unique among all the Beings, which is probably why he was just about the most powerful of them all, and why the others feared him. See, they could only derive power from people believing in them. So could Woden—or Zeus, or Kris Kringle, or any of the other names that he’s used throughout the—”
“Kris Kringle?” said a stunned Robin Lefler. “You mean…Santa Claus? You’re telling me that the Beings were defeated because we believed in Santa Claus?! Come on!”
“Robin, not now,” Burgoyne warned.
“Partly that,” admitted McHenry. “But of all the Beings, he was the only one able to draw strength and sustenance from people believing in themselves. The fact that you faced down the Beings, that you collectively weren’t afraid…that gave him the additional strength he needed to break out of the imprisonment that the others had inflicted upon him, and let him turn the tables. But…”