Gateways #6: Cold Wars

by Peter David

  Ebozay made no motion of greeting toward her. Instead he seemed to be devouring her with his eyes, and Tsana suddenly felt extremely relieved that they were not, in fact, anywhere near each other. At the same time, though, she was concentrating on keeping her outward appearance as inscrutable as possible. She did not want to take the least chance of giving anything away to this . . . man.

  “Well,” continued Shelby. “Best to get started. I wish to say, before we go any further, that I appreciate both sides agreeing to this discussion.”

  “There is very little in this universe that cannot be discussed,” Ebozay said.

  “Our thoughts exactly,” said Si Cwan, stepping forward. “Specifically, what needs to be discussed at this time is a peace initiative. That is—”

  Ebozay snorted disdainfully. “It is a bit late for that,” he said.

  “There are some on my world who would agree with you,” Tsana admitted. “I have been talking with them, as well as with those who feel that the enmity has dragged on for far too long.”

  “And they certainly don’t appreciate the sneak attack you launched against them,” Calhoun said. He indicated Tsana. “Your people slaughtered this child’s entire family.”

  “This child’s family is part of a line stretching back centuries that oversaw the intended extermination of my people,” retorted Ebozay.

  “Carrying anger over actions centuries back is part of what’s hampered any true peace between us,” Tsana said, feeling herself becoming bolder by the moment. Ebozay was looking at her no less patronizingly than her own people did. But when he did it, it was enough to ignite her ire and prompt her to stand up to him. Without intending to do so, he might well have been doing her a huge favor just by being arrogant. “The fact is that my family—my parents, my brothers and sister—did nothing to you. They were innocent of wrongdoing. That didn’t stop your people from assassinating them.”

  “She talks quite well for one of only nine years,” Ebozay said with a bit of a sneer.

  “I’m almost ten,” she informed him, and then mentally kicked herself. How juvenile that sounded.

  “A thousand pardons,” he said mockingly, as she’d known he would.

  “I don’t see the need for bickering at this point,” Shelby said. “I don’t see how it’s going to accomplish anything.”

  “It’ll help clear the air, Captain,” Calhoun told her. “And it will let the Markanians know that the Zarn won’t be condescended to because of her age.”

  “Make no mistake, Ebozay,” Tsana said warningly. “There are those of my people who are ready and willing to carry this war to the next level. We have the will and the means to do so. Part of what is holding them back is me. I don’t want the cycle of violence to continue, but that’s exactly what will happen if we head down this road. And I have more than a little say in this matter, for I am the one with the greatest, most personal grievance against the Markanians—for I suffered most dearly at your hands.” Ebozay was clearly about to reply, but she cut him off. “Tell me, Ebozay . . . was it your hands? Did you lead the raid against my family?”

  “Is that truly relevant?” he said, his voice icy. “After all, whether I spearheaded the assault or not, a cessation of hostilities entails forgiveness of sins. Unless you think I’m simply going to give myself over to Aeron justice because of a guilty conscience.”

  “You admit it, then,” Kalinda spoke up.

  “I admit no such thing,” Ebozay said. “I leave guilt-ridden admissions to the Aeron leaders. And how is Burkitt these days?”

  “Dead,” Calhoun said, moving forward as if he could actually touch Ebozay. “Would you like to join him?”

  “Captain!” Shelby blurted out. “That’s hardly a constructive attitude to have—”

  “I don’t need to be lectured by you on attitude, Captain,” retorted Calhoun, “especially when the man standing next to you has more than enough for the both of us.” He let out a derisive snort and said, “Look, we all know what’s going on here. The Markanians started a war, and now the Aerons are looking to end it with something other than more bloodshed. And we’re seeing zero cooperation from the Markanians.”

  “Cooperation!” snapped Ebozay. “Captain, kindly confine your comments to that which you have personal knowledge of. My ancestors attempted peace with the Aerons, and were betrayed on every occasion. Nor have they been willing to yield in the slightest when it comes to the Holy Site upon Sinqay—”

  “Was anyone timing that?” Calhoun said to his officers. “I was curious to see how many seconds before he brought that up.”

  “Ah, yes,” said Ebozay, arms folded and looking rather imperious. “I seem to recall that Captain Calhoun made some ‘threatening’ remarks about Sinqay. Claiming that you were going to destroy our holiest of worlds. It was a bluff, of course. . . .”

  Calhoun’s purple eyes went wide. “Amazing how some people will use the words ‘of course’ in conjunction with a statement that’s so completely wrong.”

  “I was present when he said it, Ebozay,” said Tsana. “I do not think he was bluffing.”

  “I don’t need to resort to bluffs,” Calhoun said, and he walked with slow, measured tread toward Ebozay. “Bluffs are for those who don’t have the power to back up their threats. I do. And I resent the notion that you’re accusing me of lying.”

  “Resent it all you want,” said Ebozay. “But—”

  “Furthermore,” Calhoun interrupted, “I am frankly getting rather sick and tired of your entire race. You, with your threats and condescension and murderous attitudes.”

  “How dare you—”

  “How dare I?” He stepped in close and, even though Ebozay was present only in holographic form, nevertheless the Markanian leader took a reflexive step back. “Look me in the eye, Ebozay. Look at me closely. Is this the face of someone who needs to bluff?”

  Ebozay seemed to rally slightly, obviously remembering that Calhoun could not possibly hurt him, and he looked Calhoun straight in the eye. Tsana watched, spellbound, waiting to see Ebozay’s reaction.

  And the Markanian seemed to wilt. He took a step back, as if he saw something in Calhoun’s face so terrifying that even the slightest hint of proximity was too much for him to bear. Desperately, he rallied, “You’re . . . you’re working with Shelby . . . I know it . . .”

  “Yes, I’m working with her,” Calhoun snapped at him. “We’re in Starfleet together. And we’re married. So naturally I have to—”

  “You don’t have to make it sound like it’s so unpleasant a task, Captain,” Shelby said, saying his rank with a tone that could only be described as disdain. Mueller suddenly looked worried, and she started to mutter something under her breath to Shelby, but Shelby ignored it. “We’re just two people trying to do a job, and you don’t have to make this difficult—”

  “Me make it difficult?” Calhoun appeared both incredulous and contemptuous. “Excuse me, Shelby, but you’re the one who’s supporting these murderers. At least when you served with me, you had some shred of moral fiber. . . .”

  “All right, that’s enough!” thundered Shelby, her face purpling, veins starting to protrude on her throat. “How dare you stand there in judgment of me—!”

  “That’s rich! The number of times you judged everything I said, everything I did, every single action I took. And now you criticize me—!”

  “Captain . . . captains . . . I don’t see this as being terribly productive,” Mueller ventured.

  “Quiet!” both of them ordered. Mueller nodded and said nothing further.

  “I’m sick of this,” Calhoun told her. In contrast to Shelby’s visible anger, Calhoun became quieter and quieter as a dark fury enveloped him. “I’m sick of these two races arguing. I’m sick of Markanian sneak attacks in the night. I’m sick of the endless squabbling over a piece of real estate that neither of them have even set foot on in over a century, and they couldn’t stop bickering about it even when they were there. I’m sick of you
r sanctimony. I’m sick of—”

  “Admiral Jellico,” said Burgoyne abruptly.

  “Oh, I am especially sick of him.”

  “No, I mean we’re receiving a transmission from Admiral Jellico.”

  Calhoun moaned as Shelby rolled her eyes. “Put him on,” grunted Calhoun after a moment. Meanwhile, Ebozay was making genuine eye contact with Tsana for the first time in a way that seemed something other than condescending. He seemed to be at something of a loss, the entire conference spinning out of control, and amazingly he was actually looking at “the child” to see if she was on any more solid footing than he was. She shook her head slightly, looking and feeling as helplessly befuddled as he was.

  Jellico’s form flared into existence in the holoconference room, looking slightly fuzzier than the others. “Calhoun!” he snapped. “Epicurus 7!”

  “Epicurus 7 to you, too, Admiral,” Calhoun said, his face suddenly impassive. He looks nervous. He’s hiding something, thought Tsana with sudden unease.

  “The world, Epicurus 7! You were the last Starfleet officer to have contact with it, a month ago!”

  “I seem to remember that, yes, sir,” said Calhoun.

  “It’s gone!”

  “Gone,” he repeated. “It was there last time I looked.”

  “And now it’s free-floating rubble! It blew apart! As near as we can tell, some sort of detonation in the core! As if someone had introduced thermal plasma bombs to destabilize it!”

  “What a pity,” Calhoun said, sounding not the least bit concerned. “The leadership there was so polite, as I recall.”

  “And as I recall, they registered complaints about you! They said they were scared witless of you! They said you threatened them!”

  “Burkitt said the same thing, and the Aerons are still here.”

  “But he’s not!”

  “Gasp. Shock of shocks.”

  “Calhoun! What did you do to Epicurus 7!” Jellico looked on the verge of apoplexy.

  “Admiral, I think it best if we spoke on this later.” Calhoun could not have sounded more calm. “I’m becoming concerned about your . . . health, and frankly, if the conversation continues in this vein, you might suffer some sort of attack. I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”

  “Conscience! You don’t have a conscience! You—!”

  Calhoun didn’t wait for him to complete the sentence. Instead he made a throat-cutting gesture. Burgoyne, in response, tapped hir combadge, murmured something into it, and Jellico’s transmission was abruptly terminated. There was a long moment of silence, and then Calhoun turned to the others and said, with glacial calm, “Now . . . where were we?”

  “I can’t believe it,” Shelby told him. “I absolutely cannot believe it. You’ve snapped, Calhoun. You’ve gone totally around the bend! What you’ve done—”

  “What I’ve done is what needed to be done,” he said with a frighteningly disarming smile. “That’s always been the difference between you and me, Shelby. I’m willing to do what needs to be done, and you’re willing to complain about it.”

  “Complain about it!”

  “You heard me!”

  “If I could interject . . .” Ebozay began tentatively.

  Calhoun talked right over him. “This has gone on long enough. I’m sick of being judged by Starfleet and by you, Shelby, and I’m sick of the arrogance engendered by the Markanians. I think it’s about time someone taught the lot of you a lesson.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Calhoun,” Shelby warned. “I don’t do well with threats.”

  “I don’t threaten any more than I bluff,” Calhoun warned her. “I just do as I promise. And here’s my promise: The Aerons are going to be able to live free of fear. The Markanians will never threaten them again after I’m through with them.”

  “Calhoun!” Shelby was almost shouting now, waving a finger angrily. “Don’t you threaten these people—”

  “Again you’re accusing me of threats! There’s no threat here. Just a pledge. I’ve got a big ship and a short fuse that’s burned itself out. You want a fight, Shelby?”

  Tsana’s knees were trembling. There was no question in her mind that what she was seeing was absolutely genuine. Why shouldn’t it be? She had seen this kind of viciousness in viewing historical tapes of Aeron/Markanian peace talks. It had sounded just like this. She tried to speak, to find something to say to shut this down, but her throat had completely closed up.

  “I’m not looking for a fight, Calhoun. . . .”

  “Coward!” he spat out.

  “Okay, that’s it!” She looked like the poster girl for apoplexy. “You want problems, Calhoun? You want someone who knows all your stunts, all your tricks, and who’s not going to take any of your crap? Well, good news, Xenexian, because you’ve found her!”

  “Oh, have I?” he said contemptuously. “Well, you’re in luck as well, Shelby. Because I’m coming there! Right now! As soon as I beam the Zarn back to her homeworld, I’m heading over to Markania and I’m going to annihilate the whole damned place! You think you can stop me?”

  “Oh, I’m not going to stop you—”

  Both Tsana and Ebozay yelped at the same time; in her case it was almost relief, where in his, naturally, it was panic. “What?!” they both exclaimed.

  Shelby was stalking back and forth like a matador taunting a bull. “You think you’re the only one who can act like the leading psycho of Sector 221-G? That’s how much you know! I’m not going to hang around here like a sitting duck, waiting for you to show up at your leisure and for the Aerons to plan whatever attacks they desire. If you show up here at Markania, it’s not going to matter to me, because the moment we sever this connection, I’m setting course for Aeron.”

  Tsana was completely discombobulated. The one shred of consolation she was taking from this was that Ebozay looked as shell-shocked as she was.

  “For Aeron? Why?”

  “Mutually assured destruction, Calhoun. Sauce for the goose and all that. We get word from the Markanians that you’ve opened fire on them, and we wipe out the Aerons.”

  “Now wait a minute!” Tsana cried out.

  “This is absurd!” Ebozay tried to intervene.

  “You shut up!” Calhoun told him. “Why should you care? You said I was bluffing. As far as you’re concerned, this is all some sort of joke or bluff. Well, you go right on believing that, Ebozay, if it brings you any comfort. That will last you pleasantly for your final hours, until your city is in flames around your ears. As for you, Shelby, we have nothing more to talk about here. I’ll see you around the galaxy, my dear wife.”

  “And I will see you in hell, my dear husband, because if you think I’m going to back down from my threat to—”

  “Wait!”

  Two voices—one that of a grown man, the other that of a young girl on the cusp of puberty—raised as one. They looked at each other in confusion, for the notion of a Markanian and Aeron having a simultaneous thought about anything other than killing each other was so novel a concept that it needed to be acknowledged with a moment of silence.

  “This . . . this isn’t accomplishing anything!” Tsana said, and then, as if needing affirmation of her opinion, she turned to Kalinda. “Is it?”

  “Not that I can see,” admitted Kalinda.

  And Si Cwan added, “Unfortunately, they act like this sometimes. The weapons at their disposal, the feeling of power, the lack of on-site supervision—it can get to them after a while.”

  “Nobody asked for your opinion, Ambassador,” Calhoun said.

  Si Cwan pointed a bit defensively at Tsana. “She did.”

  “She’s a child.”

  “Maybe,” said Tsana defiantly. “But this ‘child’ knows what needs to be done . . . maybe more than some adults do. Ebozay,” she continued, looking her rival full in the face. “We need to keep our priorities in order. Do you believe that?” When Ebozay simply nodded, she told him, “I need to hear you say it out loud . . . like you believe it.
”

  “We need to keep our priorities in order,” Ebozay said firmly. “And our priority has always been Sinqay. . . .”

  “That’s where our mistake has been, Ebozay, because our priority should always have been survival of both our races. We’ve fought out of arrogance. We’ve fought for a memory. We’ve fought out of selfishness. It’s enough. Sooner or later, it has to end. I say that it ends now.”

  “And what of your family?” he asked stiffly.

  No one spoke. It was as if they were all riveted by the moment, wondering what she would say.

  “Your people died,” she said, very quietly, as if she were talking to herself. “My people died. I . . . don’t see anything to be accomplished by more people dying. It will not benefit those who came before me . . . and it may well poison the chances of peace for those who come after me.”

  “You hear that, Calhoun?” Shelby called. “The young Zarn has a better grasp of what’s important than you do.”

  “She’s never had to fight a war,” retorted Calhoun, but then more softly he added, “and I hope she never does.”

  “If I may,” Si Cwan said, “I’d like to put forward a suggestion. The greatest accomplishments that have occurred in the field of diplomacy have always come as the result of summits. I suggest a summit . . . on Sinqay itself.”

  Tsana fancied that she could actually hear the gasps of the Counselars on her planet miles below. The very mention of the holy world’s name was enough to cause a thrill in her heart. “On Sinqay?” she said, and was surprised to find that her voice had come out in a whisper.

  Even Ebozay looked taken by the notion. “To trod the holy sands . . . to stand in the same area where our greatest philosophers once stood . . .”

  “It certainly sounds more productive than two starships annihilating both of you,” Kalinda said.

  “That was . . . not our first choice when it came to courses of action. I just wanted to make that clear,” Calhoun said, sounding ever so slightly chagrined, as if he was just fully realizing everything that he’d been saying.