by Peter David
Something Shelby had said to him any number of times rang in his head "Pride Goeth Before a Fall."
He was aware of someone at his side, and he glanced over to see Si Cwan there. Cwan was regarding him with what seemed to be a mixture of disapproval and amusement. "I am not entirely certain, Captain, whether Commander Shelby would approve of your negotiation style."
"It's hardly my universal approach to situations, Lord Cwan," replied Calhoun. A server brought him a large glass of wine. He sniffed it experimentally, sipped it slightly, and wasn't thrilled with the taste. He put it aside. "In this instance, the people of this world have endowed me with a tremendous amount of power through their perception of me. There's a good deal to accomplish on this world, a lot of walls to deal with. In some cases, I try to get around a wall. Other times I try to burrow under it. In this case"
"You're simply smashing directly through it."
"Exactly. It's direct, it's simple"
"And it leaves rubble in your wake."
"These people need help, Cwan."
"No argument there, Captain. But Commander Shelby was right; we must tread carefully. After all, in using your strength as their savior to ramrod through needed changes, you run the risk of their becoming dependent upon you in order to do what needs to be done."
"I certainly hope you're wrong about that, Cwan," replied Calhoun. "It's daunting enough having the crew of the Excalibur dependent on me, and that's in my job description."
He looked out upon the celebration once more. "Look at them, Si Cwan. They're happy. They have hope. We're responsible for that. Does it matter how we get them to that point?"
"Yes," Si Cwan said immediately.
"Let me remind you of something, Cwan Your hands aren't exactly clean in this matter. It was your people who forced a cease-fire down their throats by blowing up part of their geography. The Thallonians set the precedent. If I have to stay consistent with that in order to accomplish what needs to be done, well, I may not be happy about it, but that's what I'll do."
"I don't know about that, Calhoun."
"Don't know about what?"
"About your not being happy about it. I think you're perfectly happy about it." He leaned forward and Calhoun smelled the whiff of alcohol on his breath. Si Cwan was definitely speaking with a looser tongue than he usually had. "Just between us, I think you're a bloody bastard who'd just as soon throw himself into a fight as walk away from one."
Calhoun smiled thinly. "And why do you think that, may I ask? That I'm a bloody bastard?"
"Because," Si Cwan told him, "it takes one to know one." He winked heavily, rose to his feet and walked away with an ever-so-slight swagger.
A moment later, Zak Kebron was looming over Calhoun. "Captain," he said softlywhich, for him, was a low rumble"do you wish to return to the ship?"
From nearby, Killick's voice shouted out, "To the Savior!"
Everyone in the room echoed the sentiment, repeating the word "Savior!" or "Calhoun!" and his name rose in volume, thundering through the room, out into the streets beyond. And in the streets, people took up the chant, shouting, "Calhoun! Calhoun!"
And for a moment, just a moment, he was back on Xenex. Back in his heyday, with the mobs of warriors shouting his name as he would stand there, sword raised triumphantly over his head, declaring that
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Something Shelby had said to him any number of times rang in his head "Pride Goeth Before a Fall."
He was aware of someone at his side, and he glanced over to see Si Cwan there. Cwan was regarding him with what seemed to be a mixture of disapproval and amusement. "I am not entirely certain, Captain, whether Commander Shelby would approve of your negotiation style."
"It's hardly my universal approach to situations, Lord Cwan," replied Calhoun. A server brought him a large glass of wine. He sniffed it experimentally, sipped it slightly, and wasn't thrilled with the taste. He put it aside. "In this instance, the people of this world have endowed me with a tremendous amount of power through their perception of me. There's a good deal to accomplish on this world, a lot of walls to deal with. In some cases, I try to get around a wall. Other times I try to burrow under it. In this case"
"You're simply smashing directly through it."
"Exactly. It's direct, it's simple"
"And it leaves rubble in your wake."
"These people need help, Cwan."
"No argument there, Captain. But Commander Shelby was right; we must tread carefully. After all, in using your strength as their savior to ramrod through needed changes, you run the risk of their becoming dependent upon you in order to do what needs to be done."
"I certainly hope you're wrong about that, Cwan," replied Calhoun. "It's daunting enough having the crew of the Excalibur dependent on me, and that's in my job description."
He looked out upon the celebration once more. "Look at them, Si Cwan. They're happy. They have hope. We're responsible for that. Does it matter how we get them to that point?"
"Yes," Si Cwan said immediately.
"Let me remind you of something, Cwan Your hands aren't exactly clean in this matter. It was your people who forced a cease-fire down their throats by blowing up part of their geography. The Thallonians set the precedent. If I have to stay consistent with that in order to accomplish what needs to be done, well, I may not be happy about it, but that's what I'll do."
"I don't know about that, Calhoun."
"Don't know about what?"
"About your not being happy about it. I think you're perfectly happy about it." He leaned forward and Calhoun smelled the whiff of alcohol on his breath. Si Cwan was definitely speaking with a looser tongue than he usually had. "Just between us, I think you're a bloody bastard who'd just as soon throw himself into a fight as walk away from one."
Calhoun smiled thinly. "And why do you think that, may I ask? That I'm a bloody bastard?"
"Because," Si Cwan told him, "it takes one to know one." He winked heavily, rose to his feet and walked away with an ever-so-slight swagger.
A moment later, Zak Kebron was looming over Calhoun. "Captain," he said softlywhich, for him, was a low rumble"do you wish to return to the ship?"
From nearby, Killick's voice shouted out, "To the Savior!"
Everyone in the room echoed the sentiment, repeating the word "Savior!" or "Calhoun!" and his name rose in volume, thundering through the room, out into the streets beyond. And in the streets, people took up the chant, shouting, "Calhoun! Calhoun!"
And for a moment, just a moment, he was back on Xenex. Back in his heyday, with the mobs of warriors shouting his name as he would stand there, sword raised triumphantly over his head, declaring that
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Xenex's oppressors would be driven from the surface of the planet, even if it took his dying breath.
He had never realized just how happy he had been at t
hat moment. In a bleak fashion, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps his best days weren't already long behind him. No matter what he accomplished, in many ways it would be nothing more than a mere rehash, a shadow of that which he had achieved so many years ago.
Calhoun drank it in. And for the first time in a long time, he was happy.
Shelby did not sleep well that night.
She tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, and visions of Calhoun filled her head. Calhoun in pain, Calhoun in danger. When she awoke, she was covered with sweat, her simple white shift clinging to her body. Despite the constant, comfortable temperature of her cabin, she felt as if she were suffocating.
"Damn the man," she whispered. "Damn the man."
She called out in the darkness, cursing herself silently even as she did, "Shelby to Calhoun." At the command of her voice, the computer-operated comm system immediately patched her through to Cal-houn's comm link. She knew that he would awaken instantly, as he always did. When they were together, it had always bugged the hell out of her. She couldn't so much as sneak out of the bed to go to the bathroom at night without Calhoun coming to instant, immediate wakefulness.
At this point she was prepared for the reception she knew she'd get. The confused and irritated voice, the demand to know why she had bothered him so early in the morning. He might even take offense that she had so little faith in him that she felt the need to check up on him.
What she was not prepared for was the dead silence on the other end.
Moments before she had felt mild alarm and major embarrassment over endeavoring to get in contact with her captain. Now the "mild" and "major" considerations had switched positions as her alarm swelled and her embarrassment evaporated. "Shelby to Calhoun. Captain, report in," she said more loudly, as if he'd have a better shot at hearing her from the planet's surface if she raised her voice.
Still nothing.
She had fully risen from the bed, and once more she said, "Shelby to Calhoun. Damn it, Mac, report!" She didn't wait more than half a heartbeat before switching and saying, "Shelby to Zak Kebron."
This time there was only a pause of a couple of seconds, and then Kebron's voice responded. "Kebron here. Go ahead, Commander."
"I'm trying to reach the captain. He's not responding."
"On it," was the terse reply. And then she heard what sounded like a crash, and shouting.
And barely a minute or two after that, Kebron reported backand Shelby felt as if her life were spinning away.
Kebron had been sleeping lightly, as he usually did.
He was fully dressed, as was his custom. Furthermore he had discovered some time back that he rested best when he was on his feet. The Brikar security chief would stabilize his balance, becoming about as move-able as an Easter Island statue, and then he would consciously slow down his body functions to an even slower state than they usually were. Even in his semi-dream state, however, he remained alert and aware.
He had offered to stay within the captain's quarters,
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Xenex's oppressors would be driven from the surface of the planet, even if it took his dying breath.
He had never realized just how happy he had been at that moment. In a bleak fashion, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps his best days weren't already long behind him. No matter what he accomplished, in many ways it would be nothing more than a mere rehash, a shadow of that which he had achieved so many years ago.
Calhoun drank it in. And for the first time in a long time, he was happy.
Shelby did not sleep well that night.
She tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, and visions of Calhoun filled her head. Calhoun in pain, Calhoun in danger. When she awoke, she was covered with sweat, her simple white shift clinging to her body. Despite the constant, comfortable temperature of her cabin, she felt as if she were suffocating.
"Damn the man," she whispered. "Damn the man."
She called out in the darkness, cursing herself silently even as she did, "Shelby to Calhoun." At the command of her voice, the computer-operated comm system immediately patched her through to Cal-houn's comm link. She knew that he would awaken instantly, as he always did. When they were together, it had always bugged the hell out of her. She couldn't so much as sneak out of the bed to go to the bathroom at night without Calhoun coming to instant, immediate wakefulness.
At this point she was prepared for the reception she knew she'd get. The confused and irritated voice, the demand to know why she had bothered him so early in the morning. He might even take offense that she had so little faith in him that she felt the need to check up on him.
What she was not prepared for was the dead silence on the other end.
Moments before she had felt mild alarm and major embarrassment over endeavoring to get in contact with her captain. Now the "mild" and "major" considerations had switched positions as her alarm swelled and her embarrassment evaporated. "Shelby to Calhoun. Captain, report in," she said more loudly, as if he'd have a better shot at hearing her from the planet's surface if she raised her voice.
Still nothing.
She had fully risen from the bed, and once more she said, "Shelby to Calhoun. Damn it, Mac, report!" She didn't wait more than half a heartbeat before switching and saying, "Shelby to Zak Kebron."
This time there was only a pause of a couple of seconds, and then Kebron's voice responded. "Kebron here. Go ahead, Commander."
"I'm trying to reach the captain. He's not responding."
"On it," was the terse reply. And then she heard what sounded like a crash, and shouting.
And barely a minute or two after that, Kebron reported backand Shelby felt as if her life were spinning away.
Kebron had been sleeping lightly, as he usually did.
He was fully dressed, as was his custom. Furthermore he had discovered some time back that he rested best when he was on his feet. The Brikar security chief would stabilize his balance, becoming about as move-able as an Easter Island statue, and then he would consciously slow down his body functions to an even slower state than they usually were. Even in his semi-dream state, however, he remained alert and aware.
He had offered to stay within the captain's quarters,
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but Calhoun had told Kebron that it wasn't necessary. Kebron couldn't help but observe that the captain certainly carried his warrior's pride close to the surface. He hadn't even wanted Kebron to stand directly outside his door. "I'm supposed to be the most worshiped individual on this planet, powerful and unafraid," Calhoun had told him. "How is it going to look if I have to hide behind my security chief?"
So Kebron had settled for being in the room next door and resting as lightly as he possibly could. Consequently he had come around immediately when Shelby had summoned him.
When he learned that the captain was incommunicado, Kebron did not
hesitate. He and Calhoun had had adjoining rooms, but they were not connecting. A second later, however, they were indeed connecting, as Kebron charged forward and slammed one of his massive shoulders into the wall. It bent from the impact, shuddering. Kebron backed up a few steps and then barreled forward once more, and this time succeeded in plowing directly through. Mortar and rubble rained down around him as Zak Kebron stumbled slightly, but righted himself as he entered the captain's quarters.
He wasn't entirely certain what he had expected to see, but the sight that greeted his eyes certainly wasn't it.
Assorted members of the Zondarian ruling and religious castes were grouped around the bed that Calhoun had presumably been lying in. The sheets, however, were in disarray, and there was no sign of the captain anywhere.
The smashing down of the wall was hardly subtle, and the others looked around in shocked confusion as Kebron stood there, quickly brushing off the powder and traces of dust. His eyes had narrowed to a
diamond-hard glitter as his gaze focused on Killick. "Where's the captain?" he demanded, and his voice was a terrible thing to hear. The men and women assembled in that room were the cream of Zondarian society, the best and brightest that their people had to offer. The masters of their race who feared nothing and no one. And every single one of them trembled upon hearing that voice. "Where . . . is . . . the captain?" Kebron repeated.
"He . . ." Killick seemed anxious to try and find the words, and was unable to frame them. He looked helplessly to the others.
It was Tulaman who stepped forward, doing everything he could to steel himself for the purpose of facing down Kebron.
"The Savior is dead," said Tulaman.
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but Calhoun had told Kebron that it wasn't necessary. Kebron couldn't help but observe that the captain certainly carried his warrior's pride close to the surface. He hadn't even wanted Kebron to stand directly outside his door. "I'm supposed to be the most worshiped individual on this planet, powerful and unafraid," Calhoun had told him. "How is it going to look if I have to hide behind my security chief?"
So Kebron had settled for being in the room next door and resting as lightly as he possibly could. Consequently he had come around immediately when Shelby had summoned him.