by Peter David
This brought another broadside of objections, but Calhoun steamrolled over them. "You don't understand!" he said angrily. "This is not a request! This is not a plea! I'm telling you that this is what's going to happen! I'm telling you that Ramed lay down his life to show you the way, and you will follow that way! He died for your sins! He died for his people! He martyred himself because he believed that self-sacrifice was the only way that there would ever be peace on this planet, and so help me God, you will follow that lead or you will spiral into the pit and I will make sure that I'm there to give you the swift kick that helps you along!"
There was shaking of heads, there was disbelief, there were loud arguments and objections, there was
") else document.write(" XXI.
"AND THAT IS HOW I know that I am not your Savior." Mackenzie Calhoun was circling the large table, as the most holy men of Zondar looked in astonishment at the parchment that he had given them. The parchment, unmistakably in the hand of the holy Suti, that detailed all that had happened. "Ramed," he continued, "was your promised Savior."
Near Calhoun stood Zak Kebron, his arms folded, his gaze baleful, and Ensign Janos, who was eyeing the assemblage with no less suspicion than Kebron. And to the side stood Si Cwan, watching the proceedings.
As voices of protest began to rise, Calhoun raised his voice to silence them. "Read it for yourself!" he said. "Everything that is in those scrolls fits Ramed as well as it does me. And the final proof Ramed is dead. Slain by the ancient and sacred spear that he and his clan, in their sacred duty, had maintained for just that purpose. In his name, for his sake, in the name of the sacrifices that he made, now is the time to
set aside the differences that have wracked this planet with strife for centuries."
"Your people want it, and you want it," said Si Cwan. "When the golden age of peace beckoned you, you could taste it, couldn't you? All of you could. Like honey on your lips, like the sweetest wine filled with the promise of intoxicating peace. It was yours to take. Ramed sacrificed himself to show you the way. You must follow his sacrifice."
"You're suggesting we kill ourselves?" asked Killick in disbelief.
"You've been killing each other long enough, it's almost appropriate," Maro commented drily.
"True enough, but no, that's not what is being suggested," said Calhoun. "It is our recommendation that the Unglza immediately surrender to the Eenza."
This, as Calhoun anticipated, brought a chorus of protest from the Unglza side of the table. "Why should we?" demanded Quinzix.
"Because the Eenza will then promptly surrender to you," replied Si Cwan.
This brought another broadside of objections, but Calhoun steamrolled over them. "You don't understand!" he said angrily. "This is not a request! This is not a plea! I'm telling you that this is what's going to happen! I'm telling you that Ramed lay down his life to show you the way, and you will follow that way! He died for your sins! He died for his people! He martyred himself because he believed that self-sacrifice was the only way that there would ever be peace on this planet, and so help me God, you will follow that lead or you will spiral into the pit and I will make sure that I'm there to give you the swift kick that helps you along!"
There was shaking of heads, there was disbelief, there were loud arguments and objections, there was
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fury, there was hostility, there were threats and more threats, there was a fistfight, there were sobs, there were pleadings, there was blustering and anger and vituperation . . .
. . . and ultimately . . .
. . . there was acceptance.
The crowds were massed outside the burial site, but for the moment, Talila was the only one allowed in. She stood at the gravesite of her husband, staring at
the dirt, as if she could somehow will him back to life.
She became aware of a presence next to her, and she looked around to see a rather odd-looking individual in a Starfleet uniform.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I am Burgoyne one-seventy-two. Chief engineer. I . . . knew your husband," s/he said. "I was there when he died."
"Did you kill him?" she asked, her voice surprisingly even.
"It was as much at my hand as his," Burgoyne admitted. "He was trying to kill me and I defended myself. But ultimately I don't think his heart was in it. I think he was searching for a way outand found it."
"Found it in the comfort of the grave," she said hollowly. She shook her head. "Pointless. Pointless and foolish."
"That is what I thought, at first. He . . . he spoke your name at the end. Yours and, I believe, your son's."
"How kind of him," she said icily, "to think of us at the end. To think of those he was leaving behind. The wife with no one to love her, the child with no father to raise him."
"He was trying to save your world," Burgoyne told her.
And her hand snapped around, as s/he knew it would, and caught Burgoyne across the cheek. Burgoyne took the slap and didn't even reach up to rub the redness.
"Then the world can burn," said Talila. "And so can you." And she walked away, leaving Burgoyne at the gravesite of the martyr of Zondar.
"Si Cwan?"
Once again, Lefler felt as if she were talking to thin air as Si Cwan stared out his window. This time, however, rather than looking into space, he was gazing upon the planet Zondar, turning below them.
She was about to start lecturing him again on how the time she was spending as his liaison was somewhat limited. Then again, part of her didn't mind just sitting and staring at him, admiring the rippling muscles, sleek build and remarkably strong chin. But as she wrestled with her priorities, he broke the silence. "I don't know if they're going to make it," he said.
"The Zondarians?"
He nodded. "There are many who want peace, who are so hungry for it that they readily accept Calhoun's interpretation of events. But there are others who are calling Ramed the false Savior. There are others still who, having read Ontear's unexpurgated predictions, not only believe that Calhoun should have died but, in failing to do so, has doomed the entire world. At a time when they should be uniting, we're seeing factions. I just do not know if we're going to be able to pull this off."
"If anyone can, you can," said Lefler.
He turned and smiled at her. "You truly believe that?"
And Lefler, who had just been mentally kicking herself and demanding of herself, My God, did you
") else document.write("
fury, there was hostility, there were threats and more threats, there was a fistfight, there were sobs, there were pleadings, there was blustering and anger and vituperation . . .
. . . and ultimately . . .
. . . there was acceptance.
The crowds were massed outside the burial site, but for the moment, Talila was the only one allowed in. She stood at the gravesite of her husband, staring at
&n
bsp;
the dirt, as if she could somehow will him back to life.
She became aware of a presence next to her, and she looked around to see a rather odd-looking individual in a Starfleet uniform.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I am Burgoyne one-seventy-two. Chief engineer. I . . . knew your husband," s/he said. "I was there when he died."
"Did you kill him?" she asked, her voice surprisingly even.
"It was as much at my hand as his," Burgoyne admitted. "He was trying to kill me and I defended myself. But ultimately I don't think his heart was in it. I think he was searching for a way outand found it."
"Found it in the comfort of the grave," she said hollowly. She shook her head. "Pointless. Pointless and foolish."
"That is what I thought, at first. He . . . he spoke your name at the end. Yours and, I believe, your son's."
"How kind of him," she said icily, "to think of us at the end. To think of those he was leaving behind. The wife with no one to love her, the child with no father to raise him."
"He was trying to save your world," Burgoyne told her.
And her hand snapped around, as s/he knew it would, and caught Burgoyne across the cheek. Burgoyne took the slap and didn't even reach up to rub the redness.
"Then the world can burn," said Talila. "And so can you." And she walked away, leaving Burgoyne at the gravesite of the martyr of Zondar.
"Si Cwan?"
Once again, Lefler felt as if she were talking to thin air as Si Cwan stared out his window. This time, however, rather than looking into space, he was gazing upon the planet Zondar, turning below them.
She was about to start lecturing him again on how the time she was spending as his liaison was somewhat limited. Then again, part of her didn't mind just sitting and staring at him, admiring the rippling muscles, sleek build and remarkably strong chin. But as she wrestled with her priorities, he broke the silence. "I don't know if they're going to make it," he said.
"The Zondarians?"
He nodded. "There are many who want peace, who are so hungry for it that they readily accept Calhoun's interpretation of events. But there are others who are calling Ramed the false Savior. There are others still who, having read Ontear's unexpurgated predictions, not only believe that Calhoun should have died but, in failing to do so, has doomed the entire world. At a time when they should be uniting, we're seeing factions. I just do not know if we're going to be able to pull this off."
"If anyone can, you can," said Lefler.
He turned and smiled at her. "You truly believe that?"
And Lefler, who had just been mentally kicking herself and demanding of herself, My God, did you
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just say that? You sound like a love-struck nitwit, immediately swtiched gears and said, "Absolutely."
"Thank you. I appreciate your vote of confidence."
Then his computer beeped at him and he glanced at it. "Another incoming message," he said. He looked at it more closely. "Well, now this is interesting."
"Who's it from?"
"The Momidiums, over in the Gamma Hydrinae system. They have someone they wish to turn over to us."
"Turn over?"
"Yes," he said slowly. "A human being, apparently. Female. She was on some sort of exploratory mission there. The Momidiums felt she was a spy, but they're very reverential of life, so they didn't execute her. Nor did they turn her over to us because they felt that we would execute her."
"Would you have?" asked Lefler.
He looked at her evenly. "Do you truly wish to know the answer to that, Robin?" When she didn't reply, he took that as her response. "In any event, they simply locked her away. They've kept her there for approximately four years now. However, they wish to embark on solid relations with the Federation since the Excalibur is now in the area, so they're interested in turning her over to us in exchange for certain guarantees."
"What sort of guarantees?"
"Look for yourself." He turned the computer screen around so that she could read it. The various conditions were spelled out on the screen, lined up next to a photograph of the human woman.
Si Cwan frowned. "Robin, are you all right?"
Lefler had gone dead white. Her jaw was hanging down to somewhere around the floor.
"Robin?" he asked again.
And she looked up at him and whispered, "That's . . . that's my mother."
"What?" He swung the screen around, as if he would actually recognize a total stranger. The woman had long black hair, a long face, and eyes that seemed to blaze with quiet intelligence. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Lefler nodded wordlessly.
"This is ... this is incredibly fortunate for you, then!" said Si Cwan. "The Momidiums claim this is a recent photo of her, so apparently she is in in good health."
"Remarkably good health," said Lefler, her voice sounding very distant. "Considering that she died ten years ago."
Burgoyne returned to hir quarters, feeling heavy-hearted and despairing. S/he sank into hir overstuffed couch. The computer was beeping at hir, indicating a message was being held for hir.
"Computer. Message."
The screen came on and Calhoun's face appeared on it. "Chief," he said, "we've received permission from the Zondarians to explore the caves and machinery on their world, in Ontear's Sacred Realm or whatever it's called. There seems to be tremendous potential there for discovery. And hopefully it will provide some answers to some outstanding questions we have. When you get in, coordinate with Lieutenant Soleta."
Burgoyne nodded, as if Calhoun could see hir.
"And Burgoyne, thanks again for saving my ass. I owe you one, Burgy," added Calhoun.
The screen blinked out.
Burgoyne sighed. It was clear that s/he wasn't going to get a break. There was still that bizarre energy
") else document.write("
just say that? You sound like a love-struck nitwit, immediately swtiched gears and said, "Absolutely."
"Thank you. I appreciate your vote of confidence."
Then his computer beeped at him and he glanced at it. "Another incoming message," he said. He looked at it more closely. "Well, now this is interesting."
"Who's it from?"
"The Momidiums, over in the Gamma Hydrinae system. They have someone they wish to turn over to us."
"Turn over?"
"Yes," he said slowly. "A human being, apparently. Female. She was on some sort of exploratory mission there. The Momidiums felt she was a spy, but they're very reverential of life, so they didn't execute her. Nor did they turn her over to us because they felt that we would execute her."
"Would you have?" asked Lefler.
He looked at her evenly. "Do you truly wish to know the answer to that, Robin?" When she didn't reply, he took that as her response. "In any event, they simply locked her away. They've kept her there for approximately four years now. However, they wish to embark on solid relations with the Federation since the Excalibur is now in the area, so they're interested in turning her over to us in exchange for certain guarantees."
"What sort of guarantees?"
"Look for yourself." He turned the computer screen around so that she could read it. The various conditions were spelled out on the screen, lined up next to a photograph of the human woman.
Si Cwan frowned. "Robin, are you all right?"
Lefler had gone dead white. Her jaw was hanging down to somewhere around the floor.
"Robin?" he asked again.
And she looked up at him and whispered, "That's . . . that's my mother."
"What?" He swung the screen around, as if he would actually recognize a total stranger. The woman had long black hair, a long face, and eyes that seemed to blaze with quiet intelligence. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Lefler nodded wordlessly.
"This is ... this is incredibly fortunate for you, then!" said Si Cwan. "The Momidiums claim this is a recent photo of her, so apparently she is in in good health."
"Remarkably good health," said Lefler, her voice sounding very distant. "Considering that she died ten years ago."
Burgoyne returned to hir quarters, feeling heavy-hearted and despairing. S/he sank into hir overstuffed couch. The computer was beeping at hir, indicating a message was being held for hir.
"Computer. Message."
The screen came on and Calhoun's face appeared on it. "Chief," he said, "we've received permission from the Zondarians to explore the caves and machinery on their world, in Ontear's Sacred Realm or whatever it's called. There seems to be tremendous potential there for discovery. And hopefully it will provide some answers to some outstanding questions we have. When you get in, coordinate with Lieutenant Soleta."
Burgoyne nodded, as if Calhoun could see hir.
"And Burgoyne, thanks again for saving my ass. I owe you one, Burgy," added Calhoun.
The screen blinked out.