by Peter David
“Mackenzie…what happened?” asked Picard, not ungently.
“A friend of mine on Xenex died.”
“Was it sudden?”
“In a sense. He died suddenly after I buried a blade in his stomach.”
“Merde,” muttered Picard, a word that Calhoun hadn’t heard him say before. “Why…did you kill him?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Flippancy is hardly appropriate, Mackenzie. A man died—”
“I know, Picard. I was there. I killed him. I killed him because he challenged me in what he believed was a matter of honor, he attacked me, I tried to spare him, and he attacked again and would have killed me if I’d given him the chance. And then I got sick to my stomach, although thank the gods no one except my brother saw it. All it did was underscore the lie that is my life.”
“What lie?”
“You want to know why I blew up the Kobayashi Maru? Because I talked a good game, Picard,” he said heatedly. “That’s why. I made it sound like the simplest thing in the world. At the time, it was. Yet someone was trying to kill me, and I was fool enough to spare him when by rights I should have disposed of him when I had the initial opportunity. I left myself vulnerable. Gave him another chance at me. He was right about me, the man I killed. C’n’daz. He believed I was weak. And it’s true. I’m not what I was when I was warlord. Starfleet Academy taught me to be weak.”
“It taught you compassion, Mackenzie.”
“Same thing.”
“No,” said Picard with conviction. “Compassion is never a weakness. It’s the greatest strength a man can have.”
Calhoun shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly, and I know what you’re going to say…”
“My people want me to be their leader for life.”
“All right,” Picard amended, “I didn’t know what you were going to say. Their leader?”
“Ruler. King. God. Whatever term you’d care to apply to it. I killed C’n’daz and suddenly it was the legend of Mackenzie Calhoun reborn. It solidified my brother’s support base, but they’ve asked me, begged me, to take over. Even D’ndai supports the notion, although I think if he could spit acid at me, he would. Some people even claim my rule was foretold. That I was destined to return to Xenex and be their leader everlasting, ruling by the strength of my arm and the power of my sword.”
And then Picard said something that made no sense to Calhoun.
“Whoso pulleth this sword of this stone and anvil,” he intoned, “is rightwise King born of all Britain.”
That prompted Calhoun to sit up and stare at the screen. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“An ancient legend. The story is told of a mighty sword, plunged into an anvil set upon a stone, which appeared in a churchyard in London during a time of great upheaval and unrest. It bore the inscription I just cited. One after the next, men tried to pull the sword from the stone and anvil, but were unable to do so. And then one young man, a most unlikely hero—an outsider, truth to tell, who was only doing it to aid his older brother—drew the sword from the stone. And when he repeated his feat for witnesses, they fell upon the ground and hailed him as the king.” He hesitated, waiting for some reaction from Calhoun. None was forthcoming. “Do you understand what I’m telling you, Mackenzie?”
“That people believe everything they read?” he asked. “Even if it’s some words on a rock?”
“It means, Mackenzie,” said Picard with great patience, “that some of us are born to greatness…some of us have greatness thrust upon us…and for a very few, it’s a combination of both.”
“So I’m destined for greatness?”
“As I once told you: A captain learns to play his hunches.”
“And where,” demanded Calhoun, “is that greatness supposed to lie? On Xenex? Or on the bridge of a starship?”
“I can’t help you with that,” said Calhoun. “You can only make that decision after much soul-searching, after many arduous—”
“Fine, fine, fine, I’ll come back to the Academy,” Calhoun sighed.
Picard looked taken aback, but then he smiled. “I forgot. You aren’t much for deep contemplation, are you.”
“I’ve been thinking about nothing but that for the past week, actually,” said Calhoun. “And I was more or less coming to the conclusion that it was more worthwhile making a difference on a series of worlds than on just one. Ultimately, though, I realized just now that if I go back to Xenex, be what they want me to be…I’m going to be haunted by you and your annoying accent for the rest of my life. In my waking, in my dreams, you’ll always be there harassing me, telling me what I should have done instead.”
“I didn’t tell you what to do, Mackenzie. You decided.”
“Yes, but you’ll be there representing the part of me that made the wrong decision. There’s a transport out of here at fourteen hundred hours. That gives me just under forty-five minutes to get packed and book passage. Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” said Picard. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make graduation. It would be good to see you in person.”
“I’m sure we’ll see each other again, Picard,” said Calhoun. “Either you’ll be lecturing me on my responsibilities to Starfleet or else we’ll be threatening to kill each other.”
“I very much doubt that,” said Jean-Luc Picard. “Bon voyage.”
“Right,” Calhoun said. Moments later, he was shoving the last of his meager possessions into his bag when the summons of another message sounded. In exasperation he muttered, “What now?” and then said louder, “Go ahead.”
“Calhoun!” It was the angry face of Captain Edward Jellico. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Packing, sir. I don’t have a lot of time…”
“Calhoun, my understanding is that you’ve left the Academy. In my opinion, that is a waste of material, and I am ordering you to head back right now on the next available transport.”
“All right.”
Jellico looked confused. Clearly he’d been expecting Calhoun to say something else. “All right?”
“Yes, all right. I’ll grab the next transport back.”
“You’re not just saying that,” he demanded, suspicious.
“Captain, I can obey your order and take the next transport, or we can keep going round about this and I can miss the next transport. Your choice.”
“Very well,” said Jellico stiffly. “Obey my order.”
“Yes, sir. Oh, and sir…?”
“What is it, Calhoun?”
With a resolutely straight face, Calhoun said, “You were very commanding, just now. An obvious leader of men. I was very impressed.”
Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Jellico said, “Thank you…I think.”
“You’re welcome, I think.”
Chapter Twenty
Now
i.
Vice-Regent Tulan of the Selelvians was one of the most impressive individuals Calhoun had ever seen.
A stunning female, she seemed literally to be a glowing picture of health. When she smiled it was with perfect teeth, her perfect skin shining, perfect, everything perfect. It wasn’t very long ago that Calhoun had gone up against beings purporting to be Greek gods, and even they didn’t measure up to the ideal of beauty that Tulan was setting.
A three-way communication was transpiring between the Excalibur, the newly arrived Selelvian vessel (elegantly designed, almost entirely curves and twists that provided the sleekest ship Calhoun had ever seen), and the Enterprise. Both starships still had their screens up, and Tulan was quite disturbed by this. She didn’t seem upset so much as concerned. She displayed that dazzling smile and said, “So it appears we have a bit of a situation here.”
“So it would seem,” said Picard. Calhoun simply nodded.
“I’m afraid my orders are most specific,” said Tulan, her voice musical. “We are to retrieve the creature called ‘Janos’ and retur
n him to my government.”
“Your government,” Calhoun said flatly, “manipulated the Federation into giving in to them. Your people are dangerous.”
“We wish harm to no one,” said Tulan, “but justice must be served.”
“I keep hearing that,” said Calhoun. “I’m not seeing much of it, though.”
“I was told you might be intransigent,” sighed Tulan. “Captain Picard, clearly you are reluctant to stand against a fellow starship captain. And I would suspect your vessels are evenly matched.”
“Actually, my ship can kick his ship’s ass,” Calhoun told her.
“Hmm,” she said, her eyes unaccountably twinkling in merriment. “That may well be the case. However, there are two vessels here now, arrayed against your one. The odds are very much in our favor. So, before this spirals out of control, let’s serve all our interests and do what your Federation has ordered you to do.”
“Actually,” Picard said slowly, “although it’s two vessels to one…it’s not quite in the way you think.”
Tulan began to look slightly less pleased with herself. Her officers, visible behind her, were glancing at each other in concern. “Pardon?”
“The Enterprise stands with the Excalibur,” said Picard.
It was as if the words hadn’t quite registered. “Pardon?” she said again.
“You’re not getting Janos from us,” Calhoun told her. “You’re not getting anything from us. That’s our decision.”
“If you wish,” said Picard, “you can go through proper channels, have us brought up on charges. That would be at your discretion. But you…”
His voice trailed off.
And suddenly Calhoun knew without question that he was in the wrong. He had never felt so chagrined. What had he been thinking?
He looked to his bridge crew and Soleta asked him with quiet contempt, “How could you have?”
“I…don’t know…I’m not sure what I could possibly have been thinking.”
“We were never truly going to refuse to cooperate,” Picard assured Tulan. “I might have been briefly considering it, but really, it was just a passing thought.”
“Are we dropping shields now?” Robin Lefler asked eagerly. “Taking phasers off line?”
“Yes. Yes, by all means,” said Calhoun. “Jean-Luc, how about you?”
“Consider them dropped.”
And Data’s voice was heard from the Enterprise bridge. “I am sorry, Captain. But as per your previous instruction, I cannot allow that.”
“What?” Picard was outraged, and his image turned to Calhoun. “Did you hear that? My own crew! This is mutiny!”
“I’m shocked!” agreed Calhoun.
“As am I,” Tulan said. “Captains, I had heard better things about Starfleet than this.”
“Attention Excalibur,” Data said as if none of them had spoken. “Are you picking up the same readings I am?”
“Yes, Commander,” Morgan promptly responded. “Biorhythms have been altered. Brain-wave function is impeded. They are being influenced by outside agencies.”
“The likely candidate would be the Selelvians,” said Data. “It would appear Captain Calhoun was correct. Their ability to manipulate free will is far beyond anything to which they have admitted.”
“This is outrageous!” Tulan cried out, her veneer of calm beginning to crack.
“Fortunately enough, they can’t affect us,” Morgan said.
“Obviously not. Shall we take action?”
“I’m thinking yes,” said Morgan.
“Morgan, what are you doing?” cried out Calhoun.
“Mr. Data, are you mad?” Picard said.
“No, sir,” Data replied evenly. “Not even mildly incensed.”
Picard lunged toward Data, trying to drag him away from the conn, but the android simply stiff-armed him, and Picard’s own forward motion resulted in his tumbling back.
At that moment, phaser fire erupted from both starships, slamming into the Selelvian warship. The Selelvians barely got their shields up in time, but they were no match for the heavy firepower of the combined starships.
“You’ll be hearing from my government about this!” shouted Tulan, and abruptly the warship angled around. Its faster-than-light engines roared to life and, a heartbeat later, the ship leaped into warp space and was gone.
And just like that, the cloud that had been on Calhoun’s mind had lifted. It happened at the same time over on the Enterprise, where a dazed Picard said, “Good lord…I…I would never have known…even after it was done…”
“You’d have thought it was your own idea,” said Calhoun, sagging against his command chair, breathing deeply. “That’s how it works. That’s how they get you. That’s how they would have gotten us…but they didn’t realize we both have people of artificial intelligence on the bridge crew.”
“‘Artificial’?” Morgan sniffed in annoyance. “Well, I like that!” Then, her voice still laced with irritation, she said to Picard, “And what are you staring at?”
“Nothing. It’s…nothing. You just keep reminding me of…a woman I know,” said Picard. Trying to get his mind back to business, he said, “The Selelvians have repeatedly denied having power of such magnitude. This must be brought to the attention of the Federation. The Selelvians pose a greater threat than we could have imagined.”
“First things first, Captain,” Calhoun said to Picard. “I have an away team down there in distress. I’m sending down a security force. Could use some help.”
“Anything for a fellow starship captain,” said Picard.
ii.
On the surface of the planet, the door to the computer room buckled under the steady pounding. Burgoyne had managed to shut down the energy dampener, rendering hir phaser fully operational. But the com was still blocked. Kebron stood at the ready, Burgoyne and Selar prepared as well. “We go down fighting, my dear?” Burgoyne asked Selar.
“With each other?” inquired Selar.
“I mean fighting the creatures.”
“Ah. Yes. I suppose.”
“Good.”
“Although,” continued Selar, “my brief confusion was understandable. We have, after all, been known to fight a good deal between ourselves.”
“Yes, I think we should definitely be spending our last moments tallying up how many fights we had.”
“Don’t make me come over there,” Kebron warned them.
The door shuddered once more. The metal was twisting, bending, and shadowed forms could be seen through the breaks. Kebron pushed against it, trying to keep the door in place, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Not that he wasn’t strong enough to keep it in place and resist the push of the beasts on the other side. But the door itself was giving way.
“Kebron—!” called Burgoyne.
Kebron didn’t shake his head because he didn’t have a neck. But he growled, “Unless we’re beamed out of here within the next five seconds, we’re dead.”
Suddenly the air was filled with the howling of transporter beams, and ten heavily armed men, with a burly sercurity officer at the head of the group, materialized within the room.
“That’ll work, too,” said Kebron.
The well-muscled officer called to Kebron, “Step away from the door.” Kebron did so and, an instant later, the door crashed in. The beasts from the other side tumbled over each other trying to get in, clawing and howling and completely out of control.
Within seconds they were in full retreat, scampering down the hallway and howling as the shrieks of phaser blasts beat them back.
“You could have beamed us out of here, you know,” said Burgoyne.
“And miss all this?” the security chief rumbled.
Burgoyne considered that a moment and then nodded. “Good point,” s/he said.
They fanned out, mowing down resistance wherever they found it. Burgoyne led the way, sending the security team back in the direction of the lab they’d escaped from.
iii.
Dr. Bethom didn’t like the way things were going at all. He saw his troops being annihilated by the combined forces of the Federation ground troops. On monitor screens, he saw them heading in his direction, with that aggravating Hermat leading the way and that even more distressing Brikar right behind hir. Still strapped to the table a few feet away, Janos was howling with fury, pulling at his restraints. Bethom wasn’t sure what he would be dealing with if Janos broke free. Was there anything of his intellect remaining? Or would he just leap upon his creator and grate him like a block of cheese?
Dr. Christopher, Bethom’s associate, was lying on the ground with blood trickling from his forehead. He had been slammed to the floor during the initial crush of the beasts hurtling past, and he had not gotten up again. Bethom wasn’t worrying about it. He had other concerns.
“Get us out of here!” said an angry voice in his ear. “Now!”
“I don’t know where to go…this all happened so fast. Everything’s spiraling out of control.”
“Find a place! Find somewhere! Do I have to do all the thinking for both of us!”
“Yes, yes, all right!”
Bethom sprinted for the far door, his mind racing. Through there was the kennel where he had kept the creatures. It was now empty. If he cut through there, he might be able to hide out for a time in some of the private offices. Wait it out. That might be the way to go, yes, he could…
The air suddenly shimmered in front of him and Mackenzie Calhoun was blocking his path. Standing next to him was Jean-Luc Picard.
“Seems like old times,” said Calhoun. “Captain Picard…I don’t believe you’ve met the Bad Guy.”
Bethom let out a screech and charged at him. The gribble, perched on his shoulder, clung desperately.
Calhoun cocked his fist.
Bethom took one look at it and stopped in his tracks. Then he forced a smile. “That…that won’t be necessary. We can…we can deal with this like intelligent adults…”
Calhoun hit him anyway. He swung an uppercut that caught Bethom squarely under the chin and sent him flying. He fell heavily to the floor, and the gribble fell off his shoulder and rolled up into a ball. A second later, it unfurled itself and started to scamper across the floor.