Star Trek - NF - 005 - Martyr

by Peter David

 

  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.

 

  ") if( !cssCompatible ) document.write(" XII.

 

  KEBRON SLOWLY STARED around the room before his gaze returned to, and focused on, Tulaman.

 

  "What are you talking about?" In direct contrast to his bulk, his voice was at that point so soft that everyone in the room had to strain to hear him.

 

  "We . . ." It was Killick who answered. "We sought the advice of the Great One on a matter of some debate"

 

  "At this time of morning?"

 

  "The Savior had told us that, had we any questions, we were to ask Him regardless of time. We believed Him, for anything He told us was, naturally, true. We came here, to His room, knocked on His door, and when He did not respond to our summons, we came here and found Him"

 

  "Found him what? Where is he?"

 

  "He was dead, Kebron," Tulaman said with certainty. "With my own eyes, I saw. His head to one side, eyes wide open, mouth partly open. It is my belief that He suffered some sort of seizure and

 

 

 

 

 

  simply . . . died. Heir to the frailties of the flesh, as much as any other man."

 

  "Indeed." Kebron's voice was so flat, so monotone, that the Zondarians at first thought that he had failed to grasp the severity of the situation. "Where is the body?" he asked.

 

  "He was removed from here, of course," Tulaman said. "None but the highest of the high in our caste the wisest, the most holy, the most educatedwould be worthy of seeing the deceased body of the Savior Himself."

 

  "I want to see the body immediately," Kebron informed them. "Providing it can be produced, which I am beginning to doubt. He will immediately be returned to the Excalibur for proper medical treatment."

 

  "Treatment!" Tulaman was beginning to sound annoyed with statements that he considered to be beyond obvious. "What treatment is there for a dead man?"

 

  "If he is dead, then none. If he is not, then I will go through each and every one of you until he is found. Bring me the body of Captain Calhoun, Tulaman,"

 

  "Impossible," said Tulaman with conviction.

 

  "Wrong answer," Kebron informed him. And before Tulaman could say another word, Kebron's right hand swung around with what seemed a very slow, relaxed manner. The back of his three-fingered hand struck Tulaman squarely in the side of the head. Kebron had judged the impact quite precisely; if he'd hit Tulaman with any greater force, he'd easily have caved in Tulaman's skull. As it was, the eyes of Tulaman the Misbegotten rolled up into his skull and he fell without another word.

 

  The others stood there in stunned silence, and then Kebron turned to Freenaux and said, "Bring me the body of Captain Calhoun, Freenaux."

 

 

 

  ") else document.write(" XII.

 

  KEBRON SLOWLY STARED around the room before his gaze returned to, and focused on, Tulaman.

 

  "What are you talking about?" In direct contrast to his bulk, his voice was at that point so soft that everyone in the room had to strain to hear him.

 

  "We . . ." It was Killick who answered. "We sought the advice of the Great One on a matter of some debate"

 

  "At this time of morning?"

 

  "The Savior had told us that, had we any questions, we were to ask Him regardless of time. We believed Him, for anything He told us was, naturally, true. We came here, to His room, knocked on His door, and when He did not respond to our summons, we came here and found Him"

 

  "Found him what? Where is he?"

 

  "He was dead, Kebron," Tulaman said with certainty. "With my own eyes, I saw. His head to one side, eyes wide open, mouth partly open. It is my belief that He suffered some sort of seizure and

 

 

 

 

 

  simply . . . died. Heir to the frailties of the flesh, as much as any other man."

 

  "Indeed." Kebron's voice was so flat, so monotone, that the Zondarians at first thought that he had failed to grasp the severity of the situation. "Where is the body?" he asked.

 

  "He was removed from here, of course," Tulaman said. "None but the highest of the high in our caste the wisest, the most holy, the most educatedwould be worthy of seeing the deceased body of the Savior Himself."

 

  "I want to see the body immediately," Kebron informed them. "Providing it can be produced, which I am beginning to doubt. He will immediately be returned to the Excalibur for proper medical treatment."

 

  "Treatment!" Tulaman was beginning to sound annoyed with statements that he considered to be beyond obvious. "What treatment is there for a dead man?"

 

  "If he is dead, then none. If he is not, then I will go through each and every one of you until he is found. Bring me the body of Captain Calhoun, Tulaman,"

 

  "Impossible," said Tulaman with conviction.

 

  "Wrong answer," Kebron informed him. And before Tulaman could say another word, Kebron's right hand swung around with what seemed a very slow, relaxed manner. The back of his three-fingered hand struck Tulaman squarely in the side of the head. Kebron had judged the impact quite precisely; if he'd hit Tulaman with any greater force, he'd easily have caved in Tulaman's skull. As it was, the eyes of Tulaman the Misbegotten rolled up into his skull and he fell without another word.

 

  The others stood there in stunned sil
ence, and then Kebron turned to Freenaux and said, "Bring me the body of Captain Calhoun, Freenaux."

 

 

 

  ") if( !cssCompatible ) document.write("

 

  "That . . . that isn't possible," Freenaux started to say. He got as far as "That isn't," however, and then his unconscious body joined Tulaman on the floor.

 

  "Wrong answer," Kebron informed the insensate Freenaux, and then he surveyed the remainder of the room's inhabitants. "Sulimin," he said. "Bring me the body of Captain Calhoun."

 

  "Right away, Lieutenant Kebron," was Sulimin's rather panicked reply.

 

  This satisfied Kebron as being the right answer. Then he walked back into his quarters through the rubble of the wall and tapped his commbadge. "Commander," he said as soon as he had Shelby on the line. "This is Kebron."

 

  "Report, Lieutenant," said Shelby, and he could tell that she was keeping her voice steady with effort.

 

  He paused, contemplating the best way to put it, and decided that ultimately there was really only one way to say it. "Commander, Captain Calhoun is missing and presumed dead."

 

  There was total silence on the other end, and for a moment Kebron thought he'd lost contact. "Commander?" he prompted.

 

  "I heard you, Kebron," and there was cold fury in her voice. "What the hell happened?"

 

  He told her in as quick strokes as he could, and when he finished, Shelby said, "Stay on post there. I'm coming down with Doctor Selar immediately. The three of us are going to find out exactly what the hell is going on. Because I'll tell you right now, Kebron, the Mackenzie Calhouns of this universe don't just die quietly in their sleep. They die with their teeth firmly buried in the throats of their adversaries."

 

  "Understood," Kebron said.

 

  And he waited for the advent of Commander Shelby.

 

 

 

  Shelby steadied herself in her cabin, determined not to let the world swirl around her as it was threatening to do.

 

  It couldn't be that Mackenzie Calhoun was gone. It simply couldn't be.

 

  It was some sort of bizarre trick. That had to be it. It was the only thing that made sense. The Zondarians were trying to pull some sort of . . . of spectacular hoax. And she was going to make damn sure that it failed.

 

  "Shelby to Selar!" she shouted, much more loudly than she had intended, even as she yanked her shift off and fumbled for her uniform out of the closet.

 

  "Selar here," came the Vulcan's voice. She sounded sleepy but alert.

 

  "We're going planetside, doctor. The captain is missing, and the Zondarians claim that he's dead. We're going to find him. Meet me in the main transporter room."

 

  "I shall be there immediately," said Selar. There was something to be said, Shelby realized at that moment, for having a Vulcan for a CMO. There were no emotions, no histrionics, no demands to know what had happened. She knew that the moment she arrived in the transporter room, Selar was going to be standing there waiting with her medical equipment and an entirely business-oriented demeanor. She would ask no questions beyond what she needed to know in order to deal with a medical emergency. There was no excess verbiage required by her.

 

  "Shelby to security," she continued, and upon receiving the acknowledgment, said, "I want two security officers, heavily armed, to meet me at the transporter room." She had no intention of screwing around with the Zondarians When she went in, she was going to go in with a show of force. Shelby finished dressing, charged out of her quarters, and

 

 

 

  ") else document.write("

 

  "That . . . that isn't possible," Freenaux started to say. He got as far as "That isn't," however, and then his unconscious body joined Tulaman on the floor.

 

  "Wrong answer," Kebron informed the insensate Freenaux, and then he surveyed the remainder of the room's inhabitants. "Sulimin," he said. "Bring me the body of Captain Calhoun."

 

  "Right away, Lieutenant Kebron," was Sulimin's rather panicked reply.

 

  This satisfied Kebron as being the right answer. Then he walked back into his quarters through the rubble of the wall and tapped his commbadge. "Commander," he said as soon as he had Shelby on the line. "This is Kebron."

 

  "Report, Lieutenant," said Shelby, and he could tell that she was keeping her voice steady with effort.

 

  He paused, contemplating the best way to put it, and decided that ultimately there was really only one way to say it. "Commander, Captain Calhoun is missing and presumed dead."

 

  There was total silence on the other end, and for a moment Kebron thought he'd lost contact. "Commander?" he prompted.

 

  "I heard you, Kebron," and there was cold fury in her voice. "What the hell happened?"

 

  He told her in as quick strokes as he could, and when he finished, Shelby said, "Stay on post there. I'm coming down with Doctor Selar immediately. The three of us are going to find out exactly what the hell is going on. Because I'll tell you right now, Kebron, the Mackenzie Calhouns of this universe don't just die quietly in their sleep. They die with their teeth firmly buried in the throats of their adversaries."

 

  "Understood," Kebron said.

 

  And he waited for the advent of Commander Shelby.

 

 

 

  Shelby steadied herself in her cabin, determined not to let the world swirl around her as it was threatening to do.

 

  It couldn't be that Mackenzie Calhoun was gone. It simply couldn't be.

 

  It was some sort of bizarre trick. That had to be it. It was the only thing that made sense. The Zondarians were trying to pull some sort of . . . of spectacular hoax. And she was going to make damn sure that it failed.

 

  "Shelby to Selar!" she shouted, much more loudly than she had intended, even as she yanked her shift off and fumbled for her uniform out of the closet.

 

  "Selar here," came the Vulcan's voice. She sounded sleepy but alert.

 

  "We're going planetside, doctor. The captain is missing, and the Zondarians claim that he's dead. We're going to find him. Meet me in the main transporter room."

 

  "I shall be there immediately," said Selar. There was something to be said, Shelby realized at that moment, for having a Vulcan for a CMO. There were no emotions, no histrionics, no demands to know what had happened. She knew that the moment she arrived in the transporter room, Selar was going to be standing there waiting with her medical equipment and an entirely business-oriented demeanor. She would ask no questions beyond what she needed to know in order to deal with a medical emergency. There was no excess verbiage required by her.

 

  "Shelby to security," she continued, and upon receiving the acknowledgment, said, "I want two security officers, heavily armed, to meet me at the transporter room." She had no intention of screwing around with the Zondarians When she went in, she was going to go in with a show of force. Shelby finished dressing, charged out of her quarters, and

 

 

 

  ") if( !cssCompatible ) document.write("

 

  was at the transporter room, as it turned out, in just under three minutes. Selar was standing there waiting for her. Shelby's hair was disheve
led, her manner one of barely contained anger, outrage, and confusion. Selar, on the other hand, looked calm and cool. For one moment, Shelby found that she no longer appreciated Selar's unflappable demeanor. Instead she discovered the truth of the age-old adage, namely that misery loves company. The security guards, Hecht and Scannell, were there as well. They had obeyed her instructions to the letter. Hecht had heavy-duty hand phasers strapped to either side of his uniform, looking for all the world like a cowboy. Scannell had a phaser rifle slung under his arm.

 

  "Very impressive, gentlemen," she said with approval.

 

  Ensign Watson had just taken position behind the transporter controls, and she immediately configured the coordinates for the point of transmission from which Zak Kebron communicated mere minutes before. "Energize!" called Shelby as she stepped onto the platform, a slightly sloppy maneuver that could have had a costly effect. If Watson hadn't been paying attention and simply activated the beams on command, the front portion of Shelby's body would have preceded her to the planet's surface. As it was, Watson was cautious enough to wait until Shelby was completely on the platform before beaming her down to Zondar.

 

  Kebron was waiting for her when the four of them arrived seconds later. Kebron glanced in acknowledgment at Hecht and Scannell. Had he so chosen, he could have expressed annoyance that the bringing out of security guards without clearing it through him was a breach of protocol, but he didn't bother.

 

  "Where was his room?" demanded Shelby without preamble.

 

 

 

 

 

  Instead of answering, Kebron led her to the quarters where assorted Zondarians were still milling around in what appeared to be barely controlled chaos. Shelby spotted Killick, the one Zondarian she recognized, and without even bothering to offer greetings, said, "Where the hell is the captain?"

 

  The question prompted a barrage of responses, not just from Killick but from everyone around. As Shelby tried to sort out who was saying what, she started to hear something else as well. A chorus of voices, but it was not coming from within the temple. Instead it rose from outside, high-pitched and frightening in the depth of its grief. A thousand voices, more, rising as one and giving vent to some sort of deep-seated mourning. "What is that?" she demanded, but even as she asked, she already knew.