by Peter David
Mackenzie Calhoun, seated in his command chair on the bridge, felt a vague sense of unease, and then promptly attributed it to the next words out of Robin Lefler’s mouth.
The ops officer turned with a look of concern to her captain and said, “Sir . . . communiqué from Starfleet. It’s Admiral Jellico, sir.”
The bridge crew had been engaged in its normal pattern of discussion and chat as they orbited the world designated Thallon 21 and called Aeron by its residents. But upon hearing that bit of news, the crew immediately quieted.
Calhoun considered for a moment retiring to his ready room and taking the call there, but then dismissed the notion. A crew functioned based on its confidence in its captain; he did not need them thinking that he was so afraid of what Jellico might say to him, that he had to hide behind closed doors. Besides, he did not regret for a moment any of the actions he had taken. Still . . .
“Lieutenant,” he said to Lefler, quite calmly, “tell Admiral Jellico I’ll be right with him . . . have Ambassador Cwan come to the bridge . . . and then put him on.”
“Preparing to stick your head into the lion’s mouth, Captain?” inquired Burgoyne.
Calhoun smiled wryly. “And me without my whip and chair.”
Tsana did not understand why part of her wanted to emerge from hiding. It was crazy, the bad man would find her, hurt her, the bad man and the other men . . . but mostly she was afraid of the one who had slain her brothers in front of her, the man whom they had been glad to see. She had actually heard their voices choke with terror, and then those sounds, those horrible sounds. Yet she felt something trying to push her out from under the bed, something telling her that it was safe, that she need not fear anything, but she knew better. Because she had thought herself safe when the man was there, and now she wasn’t, and she didn’t know what to do, because she wanted to be safe, but she knew she never would be if she came out, and she pushed away the little voice screaming within her, pushed it away where it wouldn’t hurt her, where nothing would hurt her, where . . .
“It’s time to come out.”
The voice was so firm, so serene, so determined, that naturally it snared her attention. Still, she remained afraid to move, even as her inner voice urged her to trust this newcomer, but it was a trick, it could be a trick, it had to be a trick. . . .
“It isn’t a trick. I am here. You are safe.”
“You’re . . . you’re lying . . .” Her voice sounded small and terrified to herself, a pathetic and puny thing.
“Vulcans never lie.”
That stopped her. She knew that it was foolish to ask, because speaking was going to give away where she was hiding, but something prompted her to ask, “What is a Vulcan?”
“If you wish to know, look out from under there. I know where you are. I knew the moment I entered this room. So hiding is fairly pointless, right?”
She knew this to be true, so she peered out ever so slightly, and there was the strangest woman—she thought it was a woman—she had ever seen. Ears tapered, eyebrows swept upwards, thick black hair piled on her head and some sort of an odd emblem in the hair, pinning it into place.
“Who . . . are you?” And then, before the words were even out of her, she knew the answer. “Soleta.”
“Soleta,” affirmed the Vulcan.
“How did I know that?”
“The answer would be somewhat complicated, and you probably would not understand anyway.” She extended a hand. “Come, Tsana. Come to me.”
“I don’t want to. The bad man will hurt me. . . .”
“No one can hurt you. You’re not where you think you are. Come with me and let me show you your true whereabouts.”
“Are my parents there? And my brothers and sister?”
She looked at Soleta, and again, she knew before Soleta could answer. “They’re dead. Aren’t they?” Lying was not a possibility. “Yes.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “If I come with you . . . will you help me kill the men who killed them?”
“I cannot promise that.”
“Then I don’t want to come. I don’t want a world without them.”
“You have a world without them already, Tsana,” said Soleta, not unkindly. “The question is . . . do you want a world without you? I don’t think your parents, or your siblings, would have desired that. They would have wanted you to live, and grow, and act on their behalf and keep their memory alive.”
“How would you know what they would have wanted or not wanted? You don’t know them,” said the child with bubbling anger.
Soleta approached her slowly, crouched before her. It seemed as if there was light spilling out from behind her eyes. She brought her hand, almost ethereal, to the girl’s forehead and touched it ever so gently, her fingers seeming to go right through.
“I know them now,” she said.
And suddenly there was another Vulcan standing right next to Soleta, and she was looking slightly disconcerted. “How did . . . ?”
“Dr. Lili Scasino. She was concerned. She called me. I was concerned. I am here.”
“Hmm. I must be certain to put Lili in for a pay raise.”
Soleta looked back to the girl, and held out her hand once more, this time with a certainty that would not be ignored. “Tsana . . . it is time to go.”
“I’m not sure . . . I’m not . . .”
“Very well. If you do not wish to come with us . . . then we will leave you, all alone. Forever. It is your choice.”
There were two images on the screen, side by side: one, the Starfleet transmission, with Admiral Jellico’s pinched, annoyed face on it, and the other, beamed up from the planet surface, with Burkitt looking rather smug. It was obvious to Burgoyne that Burkitt was looking forward to seeing Calhoun squirm under the white-hot glare of Starfleet’s disapproval. Even more obviously, Burkitt didn’t know Calhoun—or what made him squirm—in the least.
“So you’re saying it’s true, then,” Jellico said, still sounding incredulous.
“Yes, sir,” replied Calhoun. “I brought Tsana up here to the Excalibur. I felt that her best interests would be served—”
Jellico cut him off, both verbally and at the knees. “ Captain, you don’t get to decide what her best interests are! That was kidnapping!”
“Actually, Admiral, the kid was more unconscious than actually napping.”
Burgoyne was surprised to hear a genuine chuckle from Zak Kebron standing behind him at the tactical station. The huge Brikar security chief rarely responded to anything with much more than a grunt, if that.
Jellico’s face grew even more taut. “Do I appear amused by your quip, Captain?”
“No, sir, but with all respect, I don’t feel I should be penalized simply because you cannot appreciate a good quip.”
“Do you see, Admiral?” demanded Burkitt. “Do you see what I’ve had to deal with? The arrogance, the—”
“I will handle this, Warmaster Burkitt,” said Jellico forcefuly. “Captain Calhoun, you will return the child to the care of her people immediately.”
“Her condition remains unchanged, Admiral—”
“That is not our concern.”
“Dr. Selar needs time to—”
“And that is not our concern,” Jellico continued. “ Captain, unless you do as you are ordered, I will instruct your first officer to have you arrested and bound over for courtmartial. I cannot make it any plainer than that.”
The only sound that broke the silence on the bridge in that moment was soft, triumphant laughter from Burkitt. That was when Si Cwan said, very quietly, very dangerously, “Admiral, the child will be killed if she is returned to her homeworld.”
From both Jellico and Burkitt there was a simultaneous expulsion of “What?!”
Si Cwan kept speaking, easily raising his voice above the infuriated and indignant shouts of the two people on the screen. “Admiral, we Thallonians know how the Aerons operate. We know their history, their character, their culture.
The Markanians were foolish to attack the imperial family, because, traditionally, the imperials have kept the military in check. The abrupt termination of most of the imperial family presents an ideal opportunity for the warmaster to consolidate his power, and the continued existence of even one of the members of the family poses a threat to that consolidation. If the girl does show any sign of recovering from her shock-induced state, I predict she will die shortly thereafter. Is Starfleet in the habit of condemning children to death, Admiral?”
“Lies!” bellowed Burkitt. “Damned lies!”
“And statistics,” McHenry piped up, but no one knew what he was referring to and so didn’t bother to ask.
“This is all fabrication and character assassination, Admiral—!”
“Better to assassinate character than individuals, Burkitt,” Si Cwan shot back.
“Admiral, the Thallonians have a long history of hostility toward us, going all the way back to Sinqay—”
“Sinqay?” said a clearly puzzled Jellico, who looked as if he was falling behind in the conversation.
“The holy world of the Aerons and the Markanians, Admiral,” Si Cwan volunteered.
“No!” said Burkitt sharply. “Ours! Only ours! The world, and the Holy Site on the world . . . our claim took precedent over the Markanians, which was something the Thallonians neither understood nor cared about! And the campaign of hostility continues to this day. Admiral, I give you my word—”
“Your word?” It was now Calhoun who sounded almost derisive. “The word of someone who has hidden a Gateway . . .”
And to Calhoun’s surprise, Jellico’s tone mollified slightly. “Yes, Captain Calhoun does raise a valid point. Warmaster Burkitt, this technology you’re wielding . . . it is extremely dangerous. More so than you can possibly believe.”
“It is ours,” Burkitt said sullenly.
“Might I propose . . . a compromise,” Jellico suggested. “You give this portable Gateway to the Excalibur for safekeeping, and Captain Calhoun will return Tsana to you—”
For a moment Burgoyne thought that Calhoun would take the way out being proferred by the admiral, but s/he subsequently realized that s/he really should have known better than that. “Unacceptable, Admiral,” Calhoun said immediately.
“Captain,” and Jellico’s tone sounded very ugly indeed, “believe it or not, I am doing you a favor here. This may get you out from under and save you from court-martial.”
“I will not turn her over to the Aeron.”
“That, Captain, is an option you do not have.”
“No, Admiral. Returning the girl planetside is the option I do not have. Everything else is negotiable.”
“This isn’t,” Jellico said firmly. “Commander Burgoyne . . . arrest Captain Calhoun.”
Slowly Burgoyne turned, hir gaze locking with Calhoun’s. Calhoun’s face was inscrutable. Burgoyne would have hated to play poker with him.
“Captain Calhoun,” Burgoyne said slowly.
But before s/he could get the next words out, the turbolift doors slid open. Burgoyne turned in response to the noise, and hir jaw dropped in surprise.
Science Officer Soleta and Dr. Selar had entered the bridge, which in and of itself was not all that remarkable, although they appeared rather wan and exhausted. Walking between them, however, on unsteady legs, looking drawn and a bit scared but otherwise all right, was Tsana.
“Tsana!” Burkitt blurted out, answering Jellico’s question before he could even ask it. “You . . . you are recovered! This is . . . this is a great day for—!”
She took one look at him and let out a scream so shrill it made everyone on the bridge wince; Soleta and Selar clapped their hands over their ears, since their hearing was that much sharper.
And then, just like that, her cry of terror turned to one of pure, undiluted fury, and she howled, “You killed them! You killed my brothers! They trusted you! We all trusted you! Damn you! Damn you to hell!” and she ran toward the viewscreen. Lefler tried to stand and intercept her, but she twisted past and threw herself against the screen, uncaring of the fact that it was only Burkitt’s image. “Damn you, damn you, damn you!” she howled repeatedly, at first clawing it with her fingers and then balling her hands into fists and slamming them repeatedly against it. Sobs were torn from her throat, all of her grief pouring from her, and it was hard to say whether she was aware of it when Dr. Selar wrapped her arms around her and gently pulled her away from the screen.
Burkitt sat there, speechless.
And with an air of supreme serenity, Captain Calhoun said to Jellico, “If it’s all the same to Starfleet, Admiral . . . I don’t think we’ll be sending Tsana into Burkitt’s tender mercies any time soon.”
15
TRIDENT
M’RESS WAS READY to smash the equipment, rip it to shreds with her bare hands. She moved to do so, in fact, just out of sheer frustration, and it was only Gleau putting his hands gently upon her wrist and quelling her anger that prevented her. Yet, despite all her anger, she felt a guilty thrill of pleasure from his touch, and the fur on the back of her neck prickled. “You mustn’t let it get to you, M’Ress,” Lieutenant Commander Gleau assured her. “It’s . . .” He paused, frowned. “What is that . . . odd noise? It . . . seems to be emanating from around your chest cavity.”
Of course M’Ress knew it immediately for what it was: his skin against hers was making her purr again, dammit. It was a reflex action, and she immediately cleared her throat loudly to try and cover it. “My apologies, sir. The Caitian . . . digestive system . . . is rather loud.” She couldn’t help but feel that it was an extremely weak excuse to make, but it was the only one that occurred to her.
Fortunately, Gleau made no indication that he found the excuse remotely implausible. “Amazing, the way species are so different, one from the other, isn’t it?” he said, sounding for all the world as if he really thought it was a marvelous thing. “So you are hungry, is what you are saying?”
“No, sir,” she assured him, deciding that this would be a good opportunity to send the conversation away from her. She rose from the scanning station in the main science lab and stalked it with obvious annoyance, her tail whipping about . . . so much so that several crewmen who were walking about, working on other projects, were constrained to give her a wide berth so they wouldn’t be smacked in the face. “Sir, I’m not picking up anything. Not a damned thing. The only conclusion I can draw is that if the Gateway, or the Iconian, is down there, they’ve managed to find a way to shield themselves from our probes.”
“Would that be possible?”
She shrugged. “Lieutenant Commander, before what happened to me happened to me, I would have been the first to tell you that a Gateway that hurls travelers into the future would have been impossible. Yet there it was, and here I am. So who am I to say what’s possible and what isn’t? All I know is, I’m getting nowhere, and I’m getting the sinking feeling that I’m going to continue to get nowhere.”
“All right,” said Gleau after a moment. “The captain is in a holoconference with Captain Calhoun, so I won’t disturb her at the moment. However, if your recommendation is that we quit . . .”
“I didn’t say that,” M’Ress quickly informed him. “I’m going to keep looking, even though it may be utterly futile, for as long as we’re in orbit around this hunk of rock. As long as there’s still an opportunity.”
He smiled approvingly, and it seemed to M’Ress as if his smile illuminated the entire room. “That’s good to hear, M’Ress. Very good to hear.” He raised his voice slightly and said, “That’s exactly the sort of attitude I like to hear from my people.” He rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly, and she felt as if a little jolt of electricity had entered her and was dancing around, lighting shadows she didn’t even realize were there and chasing them away. She wasn’t even aware when he had left the room, because she was still embracing the warm feeling his presence had brought to her.
Her ears picked
up as she heard chuckling. She glanced at her coworkers and saw what she felt were patronizing grins or pitying looks. “What is it?” she said. No one answered. Just more looks, more chuckles, and this time, more forcefully, she repeated, “What is it?”
“Nothing,” one of them, a veteran and slightly grizzled officer named Chesterton said.
“There seems to be much amusement being generated at my expense for ‘nothing,’ ” M’Ress said tightly. “Would you do me the courtesy of telling me what is going on?”
The laughter stopped, and then, more seriously, Chesterton said, “Nothing is ‘going on,’ Lieutenant. If something struck us as whimsical . . .”
“I will not see others provided their dose of ‘whimsy’ at my expense,” M’Ress snapped, much more harshly than she had intended. “If you’re going to enjoy your little games, do it elsewhere and with someone else.”
“There are no ‘games’ involved here, Lieutenant,” replied Chesterton, “and to be honest, I can’t say I appreciate your taking out on us your feeling of frustration over your failures—”
“Failures!” She was becoming angrier by the moment. “Would you care to tell me what you’re talking about?”