by Peter David
“Until now,” said Cabros, staring in wide-eyed wonder at the device. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Your people did this?” he said to Soleta. When she nodded, he said, “You must give me the details.”
“Frankly, I’m not entirely pleased that the individuals on this vessel are as familiar with the cloak as they are,” she replied. “However, it was deemed necessary for us to be able to travel here, and so I felt the need to contribute where I could.”
“Oh, of course,” said Nyos readily. “Because you were asked by your lover to do so.”
Calhoun blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”
Nyos nodded toward Calhoun. “Your lover. Captain Calhoun.”
“We are not lovers,” Soleta said immediately.
“That’s absolutely correct,” Calhoun jumped in, unsure of what the hell was happening. “There is nothing of any romantic nature between Soleta and me.”
Nyos was clearly surprised. “Are you quite certain? She looks at you with unadulterated love, so I just assumed that—”
“You assumed wrong,” said Calhoun, and he looked at Soleta for verification.
He was astounded to see something pass through her eyes that he had never seen before: fear.
Not for long. Just for an instant. But for that instant, she was clearly terrified of something. Then Soleta very quickly said, “Yes, you are very much mistaken, Nyos. There is absolutely no romantic attraction between myself and the captain. He is, in fact, quite happily married. To another woman. You can be assured that whatever you believe you perceived, it is in fact erroneous.”
Nyos stared at her uncertainly and said nothing for a short time. Then he inclined his head in what appeared to be a gesture of apology. “My mistake.”
Calhoun stared at Soleta but now saw that she was not making eye contact with him. This is damned peculiar. There was no way that Nyos was correct in his assertions—of that much Calhoun was certain. But why was Soleta acting the way she was now? As if she had been caught out in something and was trying to avoid getting pulled further into it. You’re being ridiculous. This is Soleta. There is no way that she has feelings for you beyond respect.
“Captain,” said Nyos, “is there somewhere we can speak in private? I wish to discuss mutual battle plans. I am not enamored of the idea of talking about it in so open a setting.”
“Yes, of course. If it’s all right with you, I’ll ask some of my senior officers to join us.”
“Absolutely,” said Nyos. He smiled. “Ask whomever you wish.”
ii.
BURGOYNE STARED AT the Dayan without quite knowing what to make of them. They were certainly among the most massive of beings that s/he had ever seen. S/he wondered if Calhoun had endeavored, as he typically did, to try and discern a means of beating them in hand-to-hand combat and was most curious as to what the captain might have come up with.
Nyos’s conviviality was not the least bit diminished as Calhoun introduced him to Burgoyne and Xy. They nodded respectfully and, along with Kebron and Soleta, took their places around the table.
Neither Nyos nor Cabros sat. Instead Cabros leaned against the far wall while Nyos strode slowly around the table. Burgoyne considered that mildly disconcerting but was willing to chalk it up to behavior that the Dayan would consider typical.
“Your cloaking device may well be what we need to turn the tide,” said Nyos.
“What tide is that, exactly?” asked Calhoun. “I was under the impression that you were ready to wipe the D’myurj out.”
“We are. But unfortunately they are not making it easy.”
“I would be surprised,” said Burgoyne, “if anyone made it easy to be wiped out.”
“A fair point,” said Nyos.
Cabros leaned forward, saying, “It has been our goal to attack their homeworld and destroy them. We have been systematically attacking their space vessels for the purpose of driving them back to their world so that they will all be in one place.”
“To the best of our knowledge, it has been working perfectly,” said Nyos. “Unfortunately, we have run into difficulties when it comes to actually destroying their world.”
“Let me guess,” said Kebron. “Planetary defenses.”
“Exactly right,” said Nyos. “Whatever shortcomings that may exist in their ships are not shared by their planetary defenses. They are formidable beyond our ability to compensate. The range of their weaponry exceeds ours.”
“A truth we are reluctant to admit,” said Cabros.
“We must be in close proximity to inflict the sort of damage required to destroy them,” Nyos said. “But as long as their planetary defense system remains in place, we are unable to use our own weapons to maximum effectiveness.”
“What are we talking about precisely?” said Kebron.
“To begin with, an array of orbiting satellites,” Cabros said. He withdrew a small device and touched it. It promptly emitted a holographic image of what the crew assumed to be the D’myurj homeworld. An array of spherical satellites surrounded it. Dozens of them, circling the planet. “They fire extremely potent beams, the concentrated impact of which none of our vessels are able to withstand.”
“I doubt ours could either,” said Xy.
“There are also ground-based guns that are equally formidable. So in the extremely unlikely event that any of our vessels are able to get past the satellite defenses, they can then track them and blow them out of the sky.” Nyos was no longer smiling. “We have lost far too many of our fellows to their defenses.”
“As long as they see you coming, you will continue to sustain sizeable losses.”
“You understand our problem, Captain Calhoun.”
“And you believe the cloaking device is a solution to that problem,” said Soleta. She was studying the holographic display hovering in the air before them. “With the cloak in force, we would theoretically be able to bypass these satellites.”
“Not theoretically. Definitely,” said Nyos.
She didn’t bother to look at him. “Everything is theoretical until it is tested. You would want us to bypass the satellites, destroy them once we have passed through, and then annihilate the land guns.”
“That is exactly right,” Nyos said.
“Quite the endeavor you’ve assigned us,” said Burgoyne. “The satellites, the ground guns. We are effectively the first and second line of attack.”
“If you feel that is too much for you—” Cabros began.
“S/he didn’t say that at all.” Calhoun stepped in. For a moment he looked at Burgy in a manner that seemed, to the Hermat, somewhat scolding. S/he was slightly taken aback. Calhoun turned away from hir and continued, “What it’s going to come down to is both the cloaking device and our speed. Because once we start firing, that will give the satellites an ability to target us. They will aim for wherever the shooting is coming from, which means we have to hit and run. Kebron, do you think Tobias is up for it?”
“I certainly do, Captain. I think she is more than capable of giving us what we need.”
“All right, then,” said Calhoun. “That’s going to be our plan. Nyos, I assume that you can provide us the location of the D’myurj homeworld?”
Nyos nodded.
“We’ll set course for it.”
“We will follow at a discreet distance,” said Nyos, “and wait for you to signal us that the deed is done.”
“There is, however, something we need to discuss first,” said Calhoun. “I’m perfectly fine with the destruction of the D’myurj. I welcome it. But it is our belief that the D’myurj are holding one or more of our people as prisoners. Before you blow them all to hell, we need time to do a full sensor scan of the planet’s surface and find where our people are hidden. Once we’ve done that, we beam them up and you can do whatever you want.”
“Absolutely. We have no problem with that,” said Nyos assuringly.
“Good.”
Burgoyne continued to listen and tried to tell hir
self that everything was going to go smoothly. That these Dayan had come along at just the right time to help them accomplish their goal.
Something is wrong.
S/he tried to toss the idea from hir head, but it kept coming back without hir having the ability to stop it. Something was definitely wrong, and s/he didn’t have the slightest idea what it was.
Everyone filed out of the observation lounge, chatting eagerly with each other. Cabros was engaged with Soleta, still trying to get her to give up the specifics of how the cloaking device functioned. Calhoun was going over some final points about the intended battle with Nyos while Kebron listened closely. No one even noticed that Burgoyne was not following them but instead remaining seated at the table.
No one except Xy, as it turned out.
Xy was still sitting after everyone had departed. Without preamble, he said, “What’s wrong?”
“What makes you think anything is wrong?” asked Burgoyne. “There is no reason to make that assumption.”
“Dad, I know you. I can’t read your mind, but I can come rather close. Something is bothering you about the Dayan.”
“I have no reason to be bothered by them. They seem perfectly reasonable people.”
“And yet you have doubts.”
Burgoyne tapped the table thoughtfully. “I have no reason.”
“You said that. What do you have, then?”
S/he shrugged. “A feeling. That’s all. A feeling that they are being less than candid with us. And it concerns me that the captain doesn’t share that concern.”
“Then speak to him about it.”
Burgoyne shook hir head. “That would be a waste of time.”
“How can you say that? After all you’ve been through . . .”
“After all I’ve been through, I know him all too well,” said Burgoyne. “If I go to him and tell him about my worries, the first thing he will ask for is proof. I have no proof. I just have vague suspicions that are based on absolutely nothing. That is no way to conduct business. If I tell him that I’m suspicious, he’s going to ask me what provoked it, and I have no answer. They said nothing, did nothing, that could possibly be held up as an indicator of duplicity. So until, and unless, they say or do something that provides me with proof, I’m going to keep my mouth shut.”
Xy leaned forward. “I think you’re doing the captain a disservice. He relies on your opinions.”
“Appreciates, perhaps. But the truth is that Mackenzie Calhoun ultimately relies on himself and no one else. Although . . .” Hir voice trailed off.
“Although what?”
“Since he’s returned, he’s not . . . quite right. He seems hesitant, which is something he has never been. Uncertain of matters. Indeed, this all-out assault on the D’myurj is the first thing I’ve seen him eagerly embrace.”
“He embraced our mission to the pocket universe.”
“That was his contrarianism. He was told explicitly not to go and, as a consequence, went. A scheme that I am sure that Admirals Shelby and Jellico came up with as a means of getting him to come here. He believes that as well.”
“Then you owe him your best endeavors, Dad. You owe it to him to tell him what’s on your mind.”
“I owe it to him to be the best first officer I can be. A good first officer would not come forward with unsubstantiated suspicions. A good first officer would not second-guess hir commander. I’m not going to do it, Xy.” S/he paused and then added, “But I appreciate your hearing me out.”
“We all have our duties. Listening to you is one of mine.”
“Good. And let’s be sure to keep this between ourselves.”
“Naturally.”
iii.
CALHOUN STOOD THERE in sickbay, staring at the unconscious form of the D’myurj. Doctor Kathleen Lochley had been assigned to his case, and she had been meticulous about monitoring him.
He’d had to wait until the Dayan returned to their vessel because he had no desire to let them know that a D’myurj was alive on the Excaliber. The problem was that it was difficult to determine just how alive he was.
“He passed out when he was brought in,” said Lochley. She was a tall woman, taller than Calhoun, with long brown hair that had gray roots. She spoke briskly and with a clipped voice that, on the rare occasions that she relaxed, had a slight Southern drawl to it. “It took us time to steady him, get his vital signs stabilized. We’ve got that nailed down, but beyond that, there’s nothing more we can do until he comes to.”
He nodded. “All right. Do we have any idea when that might be?”
“Afraid not, Captain.”
The door hissed open and Soleta strolled in. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”
He nodded and indicated the unconscious D’myurj. “Our new friend remains unconscious. Do you think it’s possible that you could mind-meld with him?”
“Mind-meld? Why?”
“Because,” said Calhoun, “we know the Dayan’s feelings on the D’myurj and their dedication to wiping them out. I have to admit, I would be interested in knowing what the D’myurj feel about the Dayan.”
“I would think it obvious. The Dayan want to wipe them out, so they would see them as an enemy.”
“That may be. But I would like to have some sense of that directly from the source. I have no idea when, or even if, he’s going to return to consciousness. So I was hoping you could step in and try to probe him.”
Soleta made no immediate move. She simply stared at him.
“Is it really necessary, Captain?” she asked.
The question surprised him. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t feel it so.”
She nodded. “All right.”
Very slowly, as if there were anchors lashed to her feet, Soleta approached the unconscious D’myurj. She started to reach for his forehead, and her fingers hovered above his face for long seconds.
Then, to Calhoun’s astonishment, her hands began to tremble. As unlikely as it seemed, she appeared to be on the verge of some sort of emotional outburst.
With no warning, she turned and walked away.
“Soleta!” he called, but she paid him no heed, instead walking out as quickly as she could. He went after her.
Moving quickly down the corridor, he followed her, calling her name. She ignored him and instead strode into the nearest turbolift. The doors began to slide closed, but he managed to intercept them just before they did so. “Soleta, what the hell?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”
“Destination?” the turbolift inquired.
“Freeze lift,” he ordered, and turned back to Soleta, who was not looking at him. “Soleta, what’s going on?”
“Do not ask me to do it. Please,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because”—she turned to face him—“the last time I melded with one of those creatures, my mind was gone for months. For months, Captain. If it weren’t for Mark McHenry, I’d still be trapped in the inner recesses of my brain. He’s not here now, and if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to risk being in a coma at a point when the crew may need me.”
“It was a different circumstance,” he pointed out. “You melded with a D’myurj who died while you were in there.”
“We have no guarantee that the same thing won’t happen. We don’t truly understand this race or how they function. For all we know, dragging a mental intruder into the abyss is some sort of default mechanism for them. Captain”—for a moment her voice broke before she managed to recover it—“please do not ask this of me. If you insist, I will attempt it, but . . .”
“No, of course not,” he said immediately. “I would never insist on you doing something that is so fundamentally personal, especially when you’re worried that it could have a negative impact. I care about you far too much for that.”
She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Thank you, sir. That is very much appreciated.”
They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, and then she said, “
Should we release the turbolift so it can take us where we want to go?”
“Soleta . . .”
“That’s a ‘no,’ then.”
“Soleta, those things that Nyos was saying earlier.”
“That I am secretly in love with you? Captain, you know that is nonsense.”
“Yes, I do. But I would like to hear it from you.”
“It is nonsense,” she said, but he saw that she was looking away from him when she said it. “Can we please get the turbolift to—”
“Soleta,” he said more forcefully.
She stared at him for a long moment. And then she gripped him by the upper arms, pulled him to her, and kissed him passionately.
Calhoun had no idea how to react. He remained frozen against her, her lips against his. He lost track of how long the kiss went on, and then she released him.
“Bridge,” she said before he could say anything.
The rest of the trip up to the bridge was done in complete silence. When they walked out onto the bridge, they said nothing to each other. They didn’t even so much as look at each other as Tania Tobias turned to the captain and said, “Sir, we have the coordinates of the D’myurj homeworld.”
“Take us there, Tania. Warp five.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“ETA?”
“Twenty-four hours.”
The Excalibur headed out, and moments later the Dayan ship followed.
New Thallon
“I WANT TO do something,” said Robin Lefler.
She was seated in the living room of the residence that she was sharing with Mark McHenry. She was cradling Cwansi in her arms, rocking him. He had just finished eating and had now drifted to sleep. She found it amusing that he was snoring gently.
It was a lovely day outside, or at least as lovely as any day ever got on New Thallon. McHenry was sitting cross-legged in a chair on the opposite side of the room and looked up at her in curiosity. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Well, the majority of New Thallon doesn’t know that we’re here,” she said. “Shintar Han has been very determined to keep our presence under wraps. And I can’t say that I appreciate it.”