Star Trek New Frontier - Missing in Action

by Peter David

  “You have no control of it! You have nothing,” Termic snapped at him.

  “I have more than enough strength to destroy you where you stand,” said Pontalimus.

  “You would not dare!”

  “Dare? Why would I not? I don’t really see myself as asking permission or being concerned over punishment,” said Pontalimus. He made a loud noise that sounded like a derisive snort. “My race was old when yours was still aborning, Termic, you upstart fool. And now you seek to drive us out? Tout your superiority as if you know anything about anything? You know nothing of the true way of things. My race is superior, and we will triumph.”

  “And yet you seek the help of these organisms! These—”

  “May I interject something here?” asked Calhoun.

  “And you!” Termic snapped at Calhoun. “We offered you an alliance that you have now thrown back at us by providing aid and comfort to this monster!”

  “I am no monster, compared to…”

  “Let me rephrase it,” said Calhoun. “I’m going to interject something here. Something that I think may be of tremendous interest to you both.”

  “And what would that be?” Termic did not sound particularly interested, but clearly he was prepared to indulge Calhoun for the moment.

  “This.”

  From within his belt, Calhoun held up a small tube.

  “There was a story written by someone in my…sphere…a very long time ago,” said Calhoun. “It was a cautionary tale about the dangers of hubris. It was about a certain race—the race of men—who were convinced that they were the most dominant, most powerful species in their world. It turned out that, no, they weren’t dominant at all. Because another race came along and they were far more powerful. They were alien invaders. And they mowed through the race of men and they were convinced that they were the dominant species and that absolutely nothing could be thrown at them that they couldn’t destroy.”

  “Is there some point to this?” inquired Termic.

  “And then the invading alien race was brought down,” continued Calhoun as if Termic hadn’t spoken, “by something so small…so insignificant…that they hadn’t allowed for it at all. Microscopic organisms that made them ill. That killed them. The mightiest and most destructive race ever to stalk man’s world was undone by creatures they couldn’t even see. In their overarching confidence, they were brought low. As I said, the dangers of hubris.”

  “But what does this have to do with—”

  In one quick gesture, Calhoun threw the test tube. It shattered.

  Nothing happened. There were just a few clear shards scattered on the floor. Other than that, there was no visible reaction.

  Termic stared at Calhoun. “Was there some significance to that action?”

  “Here’s what’s significant,” said Calhoun. “On the one side, we have the Teuthis…of whom, for all we know, Pontalimus may be among the last in this sphere. They have technology we need to return home, but the cost of that is our aiding them in destroying you.”

  “As if you could,” said Termic.

  “You, on the other hand, don’t have the technology we need, but want us to help you destroy the Teuthis just the same…because you have, I don’t know, the moral high ground or some such. Neither option is especially attractive, and I wind up trying to commit genocide, either for personal gain or just out of a sense of moral indignation. Neither sits well with me, and I find myself in the position of having to come up with a third choice. And the third choice is this: The two of you are going to come out of this chamber with some sort of accord…”

  “Never!” Termic snapped.

  “He and his ilk have done too much to warrant our just walking away from them,” said Pontalimus.

  “…or you will not emerge from it alive.”

  There was a fearsome silence for long moments. Then Pontalimus said contemptuously, “I have no idea what you’re talking about…and neither do you.”

  “Actually I do.” Calhoun draped his hands behind his back and began to work in a small, slow circle. “You see, gentlemen…or whatever you are…I have very little patience for leaders who are disinclined to lead. Beings who wage war from deep in hiding in their own bunkers or secret headquarters or suchlike. Now me, I think a leader should be willing to get his hands dirty.”

  “Your hands are unclean?” asked Termic, looking bewildered.

  “That vial,” Calhoun said, toeing some of the fragmented remains with his foot, “contains—or contained, I should say—some fearsome microbes. They were hatched up by a rather talented young doctor in our sickbay. One who has more than a little familiarity himself with having a condition that one finds personally debilitating. These microbes, these…germs…are quite virulent.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Termic.

  But Pontalimus stiffened (although it wasn’t easy to discern that, given the way he was built) and his voice dropped to a thunderous growl. “You madman.”

  “I prefer ‘resourceful man,’ but I’ll accept the other,” Calhoun replied.

  “What are you saying? That you’ve just killed yourself?” asked Termic. “That you’ve poisoned yourself rather than make a decision?”

  “Not exactly. I simply felt that—as was the case with the old story and its hubris-destroying theme—two races battling for universal domination were really due for a reminder that it doesn’t matter how big or majestic or powerful you become, or think you’ve become. It’s the little things you have to watch out for. Let your pride go out of control, and the universe has a funny way of balancing the scales to remind you just how insignificant you truly are.”

  “You’ll die for this, Calhoun,” said Pontalimus.

  “Yes, but I thought we’d already been over that.” Calhoun looked back at Termic, who still clearly didn’t comprehend. Either he was remarkably stupid or, more likely, he was having trouble processing the discovery that someone could do something as stunningly stupid as Calhoun had just done. Apparently he was going to have to walk Termic through it. “Here’s where we stand: I have just released into the air—sealed air, I should make clear; we made sure to shut down the vents leading in and out of here—a devastating, airborne disease. It’s based upon a toxin developed by a rather nasty race who call themselves the Redeemers. I assure you, the Redeemers may have been bastards, but they knew what they were about when it came to killing. Even now it is worming its way not only into my system, but yours, Pontalimus, and yours, Termic, and your guards, as well. This disease is debilitating and quite, quite fatal given time. And I assure you, we have time in abundance.”

  Termic uttered a strange sound that was much like a flash of nervous laughter. “But…you can’t truly be serious. Let us say that you actually had done such a thing. You cannot possibly think that a disease fatal to you would likewise be fatal to us.”

  “That is, in fact, exactly what I think,” Calhoun replied. “Don’t forget, we’ve had the king of the Teuthis here for a while,” and he chucked a thumb at Pontalimus. “Don’t think for a moment that we haven’t had the time to do scans on him, analyses. It’s all very technical and, frankly,” he smiled lopsidedly, “I’m merely a captain. Medical specifics are a bit out of my line. But as I said, we have someone who is very expert on ways that the body can…oh, what’s the best way to put it?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, and then brightened. “Ah yes. Expert on ways that the body can eat itself. Just devour itself from the inside out, and convince itself the entire time that it’s doing the right thing. A fascinating science, really. I wish I knew more about science so I could more readily comprehend it.”

  “But this is nonsense!”

  “It’s really not, Termic, and I wish you’d stop saying that. It would be terrible if you hurt my feelings.” Then his voice went flat and level, and there was no trace of amusement in it. “We really did develop a germ strain that could affect you, me, and Pontalimus. I really did release it into the air just now. All of us in this chamber
now have a very limited period of time to live…”

  “You would have us believe you’d murder us for no reason?”

  “Not exactly, no,” Calhoun told him. “You see…my clever officer also synthesized a cure for it. Left unattended, it will ravage your body and you will die. With the cure introduced into your systems, the breakdown at a molecular level will be reversed.” They both began to talk, but Calhoun raised his voice and spoke over them. “The two of you,” he said, “are going to work out your differences. You are going to come to an accord. You are going to agree to cease this course of mutually assured genocide upon which you’ve both embarked, and then you, Pontalimus, are going to give us the technology we need in order to get out of here. It’s as simple as that. All you need to do in order to live is decide that living includes living with each other. Live together…or die separately.”

  Pontalimus and Termic stared at each other for a long moment.

  “An absurd notion,” said Pontalimus.

  “Unthinkable,” said Termic.

  Calhoun let out a heavy sigh, tapped his combadge, and said, “Calhoun to Burgoyne.”

  “Burgoyne here.”

  “Burgy…just to let you know…you may want to start measuring my quarters to see whether your furniture will fit.”

  Priatia

  “Well, that was a fiasco.”

  The creature who was Kalinda stands before her leader. She hears the cold assessment of her leader and feels boiling anger. “I have accomplished my mission,” she informs him, barely containing her ire. “I killed Tiraud. I set the war into motion.”

  “You were supposed to remain for as long as possible. Your early departure is not what I would term ‘as long as possible.’ ”

  He glides from one side of the vast deck to the other. Below him the planet Priatia turns upon its axis. “We are but one ship,” he says. “Mightier than any they have here…but still only one ship. We need the residents of these planets to destroy each other so that we may then attend to the remaining opposition with minimal difficulty.”

  “I know that.”

  “Having yourself found out so quickly makes our job harder. You were fortunate we were able to remove you from New Thallon as quickly as we did…”

  “I know that as well.”

  “Were you not who you are…”

  “You mean,” she says coolly, “the mate of our glorious leader, Pontalimus?”

  “Yes. If you did not hold that status…” He allows the rest of the sentence to drop, simply because she does hold that status and so there’s really no point in completing it. Instead he changes gears. “We must prepare this sphere for the arrival of our fellow Teuthis.”

  “Yes. Leave the sphere of Teuthis to the damnable Bolgar,” says “Kalinda” with vast contempt. “We will move on to bigger, greater things.”

  “Shall we reinfuse you with more DNA culled from the Thallonian?” he asks her. “Enable you to fully recover your disguised form?”

  “I see no point,” she says. “I believe that gambit has run its course.”

  “So I should instruct the Priatians to dispose of the original Thallonian, Kalinda, then?”

  “Yes. No,” she corrects herself quickly. “There is no purpose in waste. Besides, at the moment she seems of no use. But we do not know what the future will bring.”

  “And the Priatians? What of them, once we have used them to claim worlds for us upon which we can thrive?”

  She shrugs. “They serve their purpose. They worship us as ‘the Wanderers’ who founded their race. They can continue to be useful in the future…as foodstuffs, if nothing else.”

  U.S.S. Trident

  i.

  Technically, Shelby could have taken up residence in the captain’s ready room, since she had assumed command of the Trident. Instead, as the starship hurtled toward Priatia, she contented herself with simple guest quarters…although she had every intention of being on the bridge once they were approaching the planet that was responsible for her husband’s disappearance.

  Still, despite the fact that she wasn’t taking the full advantages of command that her station allowed her to, she decided there wasn’t any reason she couldn’t avail herself of at least a few command prerogatives.

  There was a chime at her door and she called out, “Come.” She was seated at a desk, and now took the opportunity to lean back and interlace her fingers, as if she were in silent prayer for strength. Moments later, Romeo Takahashi entered. His perpetual sideways grin was on his face, and he looked genuinely happy to see her.

  “Admiral,” he said. “Those pips look good on you.”

  “Thank you, Hash. Have a seat,” and she gestured to the one opposite her. He sat, and then she said without preamble, “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

  The smile faded, as she had suspected it would. “Going on?” he echoed faintly, but she knew that he knew what she was referring to.

  “You’ve requested a transfer from the Trident. You’re alleged to be having some problems with Captain Mueller. All true?”

  “Yes, all true, Admiral. But there’s an explanation…”

  “There always is,” replied Shelby. “Every stupid decision ever made is anchored in the logic that it seemed like a good idea at the time. But you’d be amazed how often good ideas are actually rotten ideas, and this is one of them. You’ve always worked well with Mueller as your CO, and I have no idea why that situation should have radically changed.”

  “I had…”

  “You had what?”

  He coughed slightly and then looked at her with a level gaze. “I had no idea of the type of person she was.”

  “Type of person? What, you didn’t know she was a woman?”

  “She gave aid and comfort to a traitor.”

  “Ahhhh,” said Shelby, “now we get to it.”

  His eyes narrowing, Hash demanded, “Did Captain Mueller ask you to intervene?”

  “No, she didn’t. And by ‘traitor,’ I can safely assume you’re referring to Soleta?”

  “Admiral,” said Hash uneasily, “I’m perfectly aware that your views on Soleta may well be colored by the…the personal debt that you owe her.”

  “You mean the fact that she saved my life.”

  “Yes, that debt. But in my opinion,” he continued, “her transferring of loyalties to the Romulans was unconscionable. We had her in our hands, and instead of arresting her or even simply leaving her to her fate, we actually helped repair her ship and sent her on her way. Now how am I supposed to have any respect for a commanding officer who does such a thing?”

  Shelby tapped her fingers slowly on the desktop. “How many family members,” she asked after a few moments, “did you lose to Romulan sneak attacks over the years?”

  “Since you obviously are familiar with my family history, I assume you know the answer to that yourself,” replied Hash.

  She smiled slightly at that. “Actually, I’m entirely unfamiliar with that aspect of your past, Romeo. I simply took an educated guess. A blind man could have seen it, though.”

  “I’d rather not go into it in detail, if it’s all the same to you, Admiral. I mean, if you insist…”

  Shelby waved it off. “The specifics aren’t necessary, Hash. Still, matters aren’t always as black-and-white as you make them out to be.”

  “With respect, Admiral, in this instance, I believe they are.”

  “I see. You believe that Soleta is a traitor, and by aiding her, Mueller is…what? Likewise a traitor?”

  “In a very real sense, yes.”

  “And what about me? You must know that I opposed Soleta being ousted from Starfleet.”

  “Understandable,” he said readily. “You felt indebted to Soleta for her actions that saved your life.”

  “I see. So I’m in the clear with you, then.”

  “That’s right. I have nothing but the highest regard for you, Admiral. Yuh must know that, don’t’cha?” He was beginning to slip
into the casual faux-Southern accent he often affected.

  “And what if I told you that I knew Soleta was half-Romulan…and had kept that information from Starfleet, long before they discovered it? That she told me herself, freely and of her own will?”

  Hash’s face went slightly gray. “I…that is…wait, you…?”

  “I knew,” said Shelby. “She told me, trusting me to keep her secret. In doing so, I aided and abetted her in a fraud. Some might even call it treason, might they not?”

  Hash sagged back in his chair. “They might. Yes.”

  “Why,” she continued in mock thoughtfulness, as if all this was just now occurring to her, “some might say that I’m not deserving of respect or the rank that Starfleet has bestowed upon me. After all, I had an obligation to report Soleta’s secret to the proper authorities. I failed to do so. That makes me culpable, doesn’t it. My whole career could go right down the chute, couldn’t it.”

  Takahashi nodded, looking numb.

  “Are you going to tell anyone that I knew?”

  He looked up at her, his eyes taking a moment to focus upon her. “What?”

  “Are you going to tell anyone that I knew?” she repeated. “Are you going to rat me out? Let Starfleet know that I concealed information? Get me court-martialed, tossed out in disgrace?”

  “N-no,” Hash stammered. “I mean…Starfleet knows now, right? So I…can’t quite see the purpose in bringing it all up now.”

  “But if you don’t,” she pressed, “then aren’t you aiding and abetting a traitor?”

  “No!”

  “Yes. Starfleet regs are quite clear. Despite whatever admiration you may feel for me, despite however much respect you may have for me as an officer…technically, you’re bound to turn me in. If you don’t, you’re an accomplice after the fact. You, Romeo Takahashi, pride of the Takahashi family, are technically committing an act of treason.”