by Peter David
"Hufmin . . ."
"Yes, Commander Shelby?"
She smiled wanly. "Don't push it, okay?"
Inside the midship area of the Cambon. Burgoyne shook hish head in annoyance as s/he looked over the damage report. "Interior and exterior damage to the impulse rods, as well as the primary warp stabilizer. And look at the age of some of these parts; I hope we can match it. To say nothing of the fact that we'll have to do EVA repairs." S/he sighed. "This'll take forever."
"Can we bring this ship into the shuttlebay and work on it there?" asked Yates.
Burgoyne shook hish head. "Too big. If we were in a Galaxy-class ship, yes, it'd fit. But in the Ambassador-class size? Not near enough room. Although I suppose if we could bring it close enough in to the Excalibur, we could raise shields and encompass it within the shield sphere. Then all we'd need is some floaters to move around it, rather than have to put up with clunky EVA suits. You'd think after four centuries of a space program, we'd have come up with better EVA suits than what we've got." Burgoyne tapped hish comm badge. "Burgoyne to bridge."
"Bridge, Kebron here."
"Zak? Tell the captain we're talking at least a ninehour repair job here."
"Nine hours?" Kebron sounded skeptical. "You could disassemble the Excalibur's engines and put them back together in nine hours."
"If you think you can do better, Kebron, you're welcome to try. Burgoyne out."
Si Cwan studied the passenger roster with a rapidly growing sense of urgency. "What's the ship's name again?" he asked.
"The Kayven Ryin," Soleta said, coming around from the science station. Si Cwan was at the tactical station, looking over the incoming transmission. Kebron had at first stood firm, but ultimately backed off a few feet and simply glowered with arms folded. "It's not a Federation ship, but it's in the registry nonetheless. It's a freelance science and exploration vessel."
"Why would a science vessel be carrying any passengers at all, much less Si Cwan's sister?" asked Kebron.
"It makes sense," Si Cwan said with more excitement than Soleta had ever heard in his voice. "You're absolutely right, Kebron, it's not the type of vessel that would be used for transport. Secondly, unless I'm mistaken, it's big."
"Quite big," affirmed Soleta. "Such vessels usually are. Science and exploration vessels generally tend to be prepared for anything. It can easily accommodate a scientific team of up to one hundred people, transporting sufficient life-support equipment to sustain them for—"
"We get the idea, Lieutenant," Calhoun said, rising from his chair and standing on the lower level of the bridge in front of the tactical station. "But according to the manifest, how many passengers in this instance on the Kayven Ryin?"
"Only nine, actually."
"I see. How long ago was the message sent?"
"It's still being sent, Captain," Kebron said. "It's on live feed, a steady pulse."
"Try to raise them."
Kebron made that slight bow that passed for a nod and stepped up to tactical. He took a small amount of pleasure in hip-checking Si Cwan out of the way as he sent an autohail back through subspace. While he waited for a response, he watched Si Cwan's reactions carefully. And he could see that Si Cwan was. . .
. . . afraid.
This struck Kebron as unusual, to say the least. He wasn't quite sure what to expect from Si Cwan, but fear hadn't quite been it. Kebron immediately started to become annoyed with himself as he realized he was feeling something for Si Cwan that he didn't want to feel: sympathy. He pushed such annoying thoughts as far away as he could as he reported briskly, "No response."
"How far away are they?"
"Approximately two hours at warp two."
"Captain, we have to go get her," Si Cwan said urgently. "She can't be that close and we don't do anything."
"We're already working on one rescue effort, Ambassador," replied Calhoun. "We finish one before we move on to the next. We can't go running helter-skelter throughout the sector."
"Captain, please," began Si Cwan.
But Calhoun cut him off emphatically. "We have four dozen frightened and shaken-up people on this vessel. I'm not about to start dragging them on side trips."
"A side trip? Captain, there are lives involved."
"My decision is final, Ambassador. I'm sorry." He hesitated. "Unless . . ."
"Unless?" demanded Si Cwan with obvious urgency.
Calhoun turned to Lefler and said, "Refresh my memory, Lefler. We have a runabout down in the hangar bay?"
"Aye, sir. The Marquand.""
Can it make warp two?"
"That and a bit more in a pinch."
He nodded and looked back to Si Cwan. "Ambassador . . . we're remaining on station until such time that repairs are completed and we can send our passengers on their way. But if you want to grab a runabout and rendezvous with the Kayven Ryin, I'll authorize it."
"That is more than generous, Captain," Si Cwan said. "I'll prepare to leave immediately. . . ."
"Captain!" exclaimed an alarmed Zak Kebron.
"Problem, Mr. Kebron?"
"Sir, as head of security, I must register a formal protest."
"Formal. And me without my dress uniform."
"Sending a non-Starfleet individual out in a runabout . . ." Kebron couldn't find the words.
"On second thought, Mr. Kebron, you're absolutely right."
Zak let out a sigh of relief. "I'm pleased that you—"
"You'll be accompanying him."
"Captain! No, you can't—"
And Calhoun stepped in close to Kebron, and when he spoke his voice was low and angry, and his scar seemed to be standing out against his skin. "I can, and I am. I ask nothing of my crew members but the best they have to offer, and if the best you can offer is insubordination, then I'm going to get a new crew member and you can damn well walk home. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," said Kebron tightly.
"Good." Calhoun stepped back and then his gaze transfixed Si Cwan. "Do you have any problems with Mr. Kebron accompanying you?"
Si Cwan seemed ready to make one response, and clearly thought better of it, and said instead, "None whatsoever."
"Just what I wanted to hear: nothing. Lefler, have the shuttlebay prepare the Marquand for departure. Gentlemen . . . have a pleasant flight. And stay in touch. You know how I worry."
XII.
SHELBY STARED INCREDULOUSLY at Calhoun. "You must be out of your mind."
Calhoun looked up from his desk. "I assume you're referring to the errand on which I sent Mr. Kebron and Ambassador Cwan."
"Of course I am! Kebron's made no secret of the fact that he doesn't like Si Cwan. How could you stick the two of them in a runabout together and send them out on a jaunt? We could have broken off from our repairs on the Cambon. If we'd left it sitting in space for a few hours while we checked out this other distress signal . . ."
"Nothing would have happened, y&s, I know. That wasn't the point."
"Then what was?"
"You've checked out Mr. Kebron's psych profile, I take it?"
"I read over his career highlights, yes. A solid officer . . . no pun intended. Diligent. Thorough."
"Yes, but sometimes he has difficulty . . . oh, what's the old phrase . . . working and playing well with others. Particularly when it comes to races with whom he has little to no familiarity."
"The fact that he's extremely suspicious makes him well suited to being head of Security. You don't want someone who trusts everyone."
"Granted. But you don't want someone who is so distrustful that it impedes his ability to function . . . particularly when it comes to interaction with other crewmen."
"Point taken," said Shelby reluctantly. "Do you have any reason to believe such would be the case with Kebron?"
"There was an incident—a series of incidents, really—during his first year at Starfleet Academy. He apparently wasn't at the Academy for more than five minutes before he got into a brawl with another cadet, who happened to be
the first Klingon at the Academy . . ."
"Worf?" asked Shelby in surprise.
"You know him?"
"I've worked with him. He's a . . . unique individual."
"Most individuals are," he observed. "In any event, it appears that Mr. Kebron's tendency to be judgmental and suspicious proved a hindrance, and friction continued between him and Worf. In order to alleviate the problem, the Academy heads forced Mr. Kebron and Mr. Worf to be roommates. The close proximity prompted an airing out of difficulties and, eventually, a smoothly operating relationship."
"I see. And you decided that pushing Kebron and Si Cwan together for a period of time might smooth out the hostilities in this instance."
"That is my plan, yes. What do you think?"
"Risky and unnecessary. Simply order Kebron to cooperate with Si Cwan and let it go at that."
"I've found that human nature . . . or, for that matter, Brikar or Thallonian nature . . . doesn't generally respond well to . . ."
And then his voice trailed off, and he frowned.
Shelby watched in confusion. "Mac?" she said after a long moment. "What—?"
"We're in trouble," he said.
"What do you mean? What kind of—"
"Captain!" It was Lefler's voice, and there wasn't panic in it, but there was extreme concern. "We've got company!"
Instantly Calhoun was out on the bridge, his attention on the screen. Soleta had moved to the tactical station to cover for the absent Kebron, and she said, "It just dropped out of warp."
The vessel on the screen was approaching them rapidly. It was large and black with silver markings. As a result it almost seemed to be one with the starry background behind it.
"Go to yellow alert. Beam the repair crew off the Cambon this instant and then raise shields. Scan it for weaponry," said Calhoun.
"Scanning," she confirmed as the yellow-alert klaxon sounded.
In a low voice, Shelby asked Calhoun, "How the hell did you know?"
"I usually know. It's a knack."
Before she could inquire further, Soleta said, "Scan complete. They possess front- and rearmounted phase/plasma cannons. Primitive but effective. If we get into a pitched battle, we could be hurt."
"Captain," said Shelby, "They've made no hostile move. With all respect, you can't go into any situation assuming that every vessel you're going to encounter may open fire . . ."
And Lefler suddenly called out, "Captain, they've opened fire!"
The silence was thick in the runabout Marquand. Kebron was taking great pains not to look in Si Cwan's direction.
"Lieutenant," Si Cwan finally said, "would you mind telling me what your problem is?"
"Problem? I have no problem," said Kebron with exaggerated formality.
"Lieutenant, dissembling ill suits you."
"Are you calling me a liar?" inquired Kebron.
Si Cwan studied him a moment more, and then unstrapped himself from his seat and moved to the aft section of the ship. "All right," he said. "Let's go. Come on."
"What are you talking about?"
"I know what this is about. This is about the fact that, in your very first assignment as security chief of the Excalibur, you were beaten up."
"I was not beaten up."
"Yes, you were. I should know. I was the one who did it."
Kebron tried to get up so quickly that he almost knocked his chair backward . . . which was a formidable feat, considering that it was bolted down. "Knocking me off balance is hardly the same as 'beating me up.' "
"Well, now you'll have the opportunity to prove it." Si Cwan stood in a limber, prepared fashion, his arms poised, his legs slightly bent. "Come on. Take a shot at me. Let's settle this once and for all."
"We're on a mission," Kebron told him angrily. "This is not the time for pointless displays of combat."
"I see. Perhaps you're afraid, then."
"Of you?" Kebron laughed contemptuously. "In a true, honorable fight, you would not stand a chance against me."
"Then let's find out right now."
"No." And Kebron sat back down again.
Si Cwan strode forward. "Why not?"
"Because," he said reasonably, "if your sister is aboard the vessel, do you wish to greet her with your face bruised and battered? I would think she would be frightened to see you in such a state."
Si Cwan laughed curtly. "My being disfigured would not be a factor."
"Your confidence is misplaced."
"As is your hostility. We're on the same side, Kebron."
Keeping his gaze fixed resolutely on the stars streaking past them, Kebron said, "I dislike dictators. I dislike stowaways. And I dislike those who feel they are superior to others. You fall into all three categories. As I'm sure you can surmise, then . . . I dislike you."
For a time, Si Cwan said nothing. And then he drew very close to Kebron and said in a quiet voice that seemed filled with pain, "I've noticed that those who are the most confident that they know another person are the most likely to know the least."
And with that, he sat back down in his seat in the cockpit, and said nothing more for a full hour. Until their sensors told them that the science vessel Kayven Ryin was just ahead. Immediately, Kebron began hailing on the subspace radio again, and as he did so, Si Cwan said nothing. Kebron became aware that Si Cwan was holding his breath, and it was an awareness that annoyed him tremendously. For Si Cwan's concern over his sister was going a long way toward "humanizing" Cwan in Kebron's eyes, and it was so much easier to dislike someone when you could find nothing redeemable in their character.
And then a voice came over the radio. Si Cwan jumped so unexpectedly at the sound that he banged his head on the ceiling of the runabout as a voice said, "Incoming vessel . . . this is the Kayven Ryin. Are you here to aid us?"
"This is the Marquand, dispatched by the Starship Excalibur," Kebron responded. "We are here to provide whatever temporary aid we can, and then report back to the Excalibur. In a short time, er, we'll be able to offer you the full services of our main ship."
"Kallinda," Si Cwan was whispering urgently. "Ask them about . . ."
"Your passenger manifest listed a Thallonian named Kallinda," Kebron said. "Is that Kallinda of the deposed royal family of Thallon?"
There was a hesitation on the other end. "We don't generally discuss private matters of our passengers, Marquand . . ."
"You have nothing to fear from us, Kayven Ryin. We're from Starfleet. We're here for humanitarian aid and," he glanced at the agonizingly eager Si Cwan, "if she is the Kallinda in question . . . I have her brother here."
There was the briefest of pauses. "Si Cwan is there?"
"That is correct, yes."
"Tell him . . . tell him his sister never stops talking about him, and is looking forward to seeing him."
It was all Si Cwan could do to steady himself. Kebron gestured toward the console, silently indicating that if Si Cwan wanted to say something, he could. And Kebron was surprised to see that Cwan clearly could not do so because apparently he didn't trust himself to speak, so choked was he with emotion. "Consider the message passed along. We'll be there within five minutes. . . ."
"We'll be ready for you, Marquand. . . ."
. . . and aboard the Kayven Ryin, several Thallonians were grouped around the communications board. "We'll be ready for you, Marquand," one of them said. Then he snapped off the comm unit, and turned to the most powerfully built of the group, who was sliding a fresh energy clip into the barrel of his plasma blaster. "We will be ready for them . . . won't we, Zoran."
"Oh, yes," said Zoran. "And finally I'll have that reunion with Si Cwan I've so been looking forward to."
And he slammed the clip tightly into place. . . .
THE TWO-FRONT
WAR
MACKENZIE
Captain's Log, Stardate 50926. 1 — The Excalibur has been endeavoring to provide humanitarian aid to the stranded vessel Cambon and its four dozen passengers presently in sickbay. H
owever, we now find ourselves face-to-face with an unexpected intruder, who has openedfire on us.
First Officer's Log, Stardate 50926. 1—Our attempt to effect repairs on a stranded private crew ship, the Cambon, populated by refugees from the fallen Thallonian government, has been interrupted by the appearance of an unknown vessel, which is reacting in a hostile manner to what is undoubtedly perceived as our trespass. Ideally, Captain Calhoun should be able to handle this matter in a calm and reasonable manner.
I.
"I WANT TO BLOW THOSE BASTARDS out of Space."
The Excalibur had just been rocked by the opening salvo from the black-and-silver ship that hung 100,000 kilometers to starboard. The phase/plasma cannons had pounded against the starship's shields, firing specially created "phaser/plasma" essentially designed not to smash shields apart, but instead to determine the wave harmonics of the shielding and basically eat through them with violent force. The first of the blasts went a long way toward cracking through the primary shields, and the Excalibur was jolted by the impact.
Nonetheless, even though the starship had been subjected to this most undignified and unprovoked attack, Captain Calhoun's angry order prompted a startled gasp from Commander Shelby. " Captain—!"
"Save the indignation, Commander. I didn't say I would . . . merely that I wanted to. Still, the day's young," and Calhoun rose from his chair, looking energized and confident. "Lefler, damage report."
"Some damage on primary shields," Robin Lefler reported from ops. "No structural damage. Forward shields at eighty percent and holding."
"McHenry . . ." began Calhoun.
And to his surprise, the normally laid-back helmsman said in staccato fashion, "I've angled the ship to protect the damaged shields, sir. Taking evasive action." He caught Lefler's look from the corner of his eye and turned to glance at the captain. "Was that jumping the gun, sir?"