Star Trek - TNG - 08 - The captain's Honor

by David

to Meramar by the Preservers, just like the ancestors

  of the Tenarans. Except that the Tenarans

  apparently came from somewhere in Asia, and we

  came from western Hispania."

  Gaius' ears pricked up at the familiar

  name. "During Roman times?"

  "Toward the end, when the barbarians were

  overrunning the area. My ancestors survived

  for quite a while, because they were even more warlike than

  the barbarians who were attacking. Thanks

  to Servado"--she made a curious gesture

  over her heart with her right hand--"who took

  human form and organized us so that we could hold

  out. However, in the end there were too many of them for

  us, so Servado called the Preservers to take

  us away. Well," she added apologetically,

  "that's what my ancestors all believed,

  anyway. And then he sacrificed his mortal

  self in a one-man stand against the barbarians

  while the Preservers took away my

  ancestors."

  "A beautiful myth," Gaius said.

  Jenny stared at him angrily for a moment,

  until she realized that he had meant it as a

  compliment. "If you look at it th at way," she

  said, feeling a bit foolish.

  "The Preservers," Gaius said thoughtfully.

  "I wonder if we'll find them someday."

  "If they still exist," Worf said. "The last

  trace of them is more than a thousand years

  old."

  Gaius laughed. "To a Roman, a thousand

  years is the blink of an eye."

  "The long view," Jenny said.

  Gaius nodded. "We Romans always take

  the long view."

  By noon, there was little left of the commander's

  body. The squad leader stood up, stretched,

  andwitha smug little purr of satisfaction kicked

  the thick, heavy bones of his late commander,

  scattering them among the trees. "Now I'm in

  command," he announced, and no one was willing

  to argue with him. But they were all thinking that this new

  commander, like the previous one, would have to sleep

  eventually.

  Chapter Ten

  What I need, Will Riker thought,

  looking out over the plains surrounding the Tenaran

  capital city of Zhelnogra and yawning,

  is a good night's sleep.

  The last few days of traveling, and

  surveying settlements in the surrounding

  countryside, had provided him with little chance for

  that. And now, with the M'dok somewhere out there ...

  Well, he didn't expect things to change

  soon.

  He and the rest of the Enterprise's survey

  team had arrived in the capital only a few

  short hours ago; Riker had sent the

  agronomists to sleep immediately, and joined the

  security force patrolling the city.

  It was ironic that the massive ground-based

  security installations and the entire satellite

  system they'd installed could do them absolutely

  no good now; the crashed M'dok ship confirmed

  that the satellite network, with its immensely

  powerful network of long- and short-range

  sensors, could be misled. And the ground-based part

  of the system, the great sensor dishes constantly

  sweeping the sky, had been set up to detect

  metal ships in space, not bodies of warm

  flesh on the ground.

  So they had to depend on foot patrols for

  their security. Characteristically, the Tenaran

  capital city was unwalled and unguarded.

  Riker and his men were using hand-held

  tricorders, but they would be effective only

  once the M'dok got within range--which might be

  far too late.

  He yawned and turned back toward the city

  --just as his tricorder began beeping madly.

  Riker glanced at the tricorder's display

  screen, then quickly slapped his communicator

  insignia.

  "Lieutenant Worf ... I'm picking

  up a concentration of bodies just outside the city

  and heading this way."

  "Understood, Commander. Sending reinforcements

  your way. Worf out."

  Riker drew his phaser and stepped into the long

  prairie grass that surrounded the city.

  "Who's out there?"

  No answer.

  "Who's out there?" Riker repeated. Now he

  could hear shuffling in the grass. He adjusted the

  settings on his phaser to heavy stun, wondering

  if even that would be enough to slow down a charging

  M'dok.

  "Don't shoot!" A young man stepped

  into view, followed immediately by several others,

  including one person Riker

  recognized immediately.

  "Gretna!" He put away his phaser and

  stepped forward. "Where have you been?"

  She paid him no attention, striding by him as

  if he wasn't there.

  "Wait a minute," Riker said, grabbing

  her arm and spinning her around to face him.

  "What's the matter with you?"

  "Let go of me," Gretna said, jerking her

  arm free.

  "Keep away from her, Commander." Larten, the

  man from Carda who had been so rude to Riker

  and Gretna before, moved between the two of them and

  faced him threateningly.

  Not wanting to provoke a confrontation,

  Riker took a step back. "What's he

  doing here?" he asked Gretna sharply. "And

  who are all these people?"

  "I am Anka," an older woman said,

  stepping forward. "We are here to demand new

  elections to the Great Saavta."

  "New elections?" Riker shook his head,

  dumbfounded. "Gretna, what's going on?"

  "Don't play innocent with me," she said,

  "after what Marcus told me the other night."

  "What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

  "Marcus who?"

  "Marcus Julius Volcinius. The teacher

  from the Centurion."

  "Teacher? He's no teacher." Riker shook

  his head. "He's Captain Sejanus' cousin

  --a special diplomatic envoy."

  "Well, he's teaching Magna Roman

  history to Tenaran children," Gretna said

  angrily. "And don't pretend you don't know

  about it! Your captain--"

  That was as far as she got before the screams

  started.

  No stranger to Federation technology or to the

  advantage of surprise, the new M'dok

  commander had kept his troops close behind

  Gretna's party until they were well into the

  tall prairie grass that surrounded the city,

  within sight of the largest building to be seen, the

  Hall of the Great Saavta.

  A few growled commands, and the horde of

  M'dok burst from their well-chosen concealment,

  moving faster than any human could possibly

  have run, sprinting for the building.

  They ignored the Tenarans who screamed and

  scattered out of their way as they ran; despite

  their hunger, this was an elite, perfectly

  disciplined company. The new commander had told his

  troops not to deviate from the previously

  agreed-on plan they were to be allowed a very

/>   brief indulgence, a bit of rest and

  recreation, and then they must gather their cattle,

  who would also serve as hostages. Finally, they

  would commandeer native ground transport and

  make for the spaceport.

  One Tenaran was foolish enough to stand his ground.

  Tall and strong, Yavam Poroviki had

  been deeply impressed by the visitors from

  Starfleet, and had dreamed of joining it one day.

  If I can do something like this, no one can deny

  me the chance.

  He stepped into the street, both nervous and

  exhilarated--but feeling more nervous by the second

  --as he watched the ordered formation of M'dok

  sprinting toward him.

  "Stop!" he shouted, holding up his hand in

  what he hoped was an authoritative

  gesture. "You have no right--"

  The commander understood no human language,

  and he wouldn't have cared if he did. The young

  Tenaran's body was hurled aside with incredible

  force, blood gouting from his mouth as he landed.

  He lay quite still.

  Then they were at the Hall of the Great

  Saavta, breaking formation as they jumped in through

  windows and doors; a few leapt onto the

  walls, scaling them with literally inhuman

  agility, to enter through openings on the second and

  third stories. They were all inside within

  seconds.

  Then began a one-sided battle such as the

  Tenarans had never imagined in their worst

  nightmares.

  Most of the administrative personnel within the

  building, generally old and completely

  nonviolent for all their lives, were killed

  without resistance as they begged for their lives. The

  few who tried to resist were slaughtered just as

  easily. Soon the walls, the furniture,

  and the M'doks themselves were covered with drying

  blood.

  The famine had lasted too long, too many

  young and females had died, and the warriors'

  fury had risen too high, along with

  their hunger.

  This slaughter was far from over.

  Melkinat's office was in a relatively

  isolated wing on the third floor, so it took

  some time for the noise of the battle to reach him.

  When it did, he looked up from his paperwork,

  shook his head, and tried to dismiss it, until the

  sound became too loud to ignore.

  He set down his pen and listened, with

  irritation, and then, growing fear. At first it had

  sounded like workmen; now, as he listened more

  closely, it seemed that he could hear screams

  and growls, and other noises he didn't even

  want to begin identifying.

  Suddenly very afraid, he rose from his

  desk, the candles casting a flickering shadow of

  him upon the wall. His shadow looked larger than

  he was. Is this what I've become? A

  shadow?

  No!

  For the first time in years, he looked at himself.

  He had never been especially tall; it was his

  powerful orator's voice, not his physical

  presence, which had made him such a successful

  politician. Though he was growing old, he was

  still strong--the years of hard work on his

  family's farm having left their mark on his

  muscles. His appearance of frailty was just an

  appearance, not reality. Now, after decades,

  he realized that he was not a weak old man, but

  a powerful one--and, therefore, potentially

  dangerous.

  His peers on the Central Council would have

  been surprised to see the grin that appeared on

  his lips then--a hard, dangerous smile, the

  tips of his teeth showing from beneath thin lips. With a

  single stride--and how good it felt to walk again,

  instead of shuffling!--he was at the opposite

  wall, lifting the great ax from the brackets that

  held it. Then he opened his door and ran out

  into the corridor.

  There was blood splattered on the wall.

  A M'dok warrior stood there, and clenched

  in each paw was a Tenaran. Melkinat could no

  longer recognize the faces, but he was quite

  sure that he had known both those men.

  With a shout that drowned the warrior's growl,

  he rushed at the great cat, swinging the ax

  two-handed. The M'dok was more than a

  bit surprised to find a Tenaran who actually

  fought, and he hesitated for a fraction of a

  second. That brief hesitation cost him his

  life.

  Just as the M'dok was beginning to move, the keen

  steel sliced deep into his side, crushing

  both the inner and outer set of ribs. Melkinat

  tightened his grip on the haft as he felt the

  force of the impact run up his forearms.

  He pulled the ax free, and the M'dok

  commander crumpled, blood spilling out across the

  floor.

  Melkinat stared down into its eyes, and what

  he saw there suddenly sickened him.

  The creature was in agony.

  The M'dok shuddered once and lay still.

  Merciful God, Melkinat thought in

  silent shock, standing there over the body, fighting

  the urge to vomit. A living being--and I

  killed it.

  Yes, and I will kill many more, and I will go

  on killing until my w orld is safe. He

  knew something fundamental had changed inside

  him, and it would never change back again.

  He turned to go down the stairs, toward the

  sounds of battle below, ax in hand.

  Gretna watched Will Riker's face

  closely as he listened to the disembodied voice

  coming over his communicator.

  "They're inside the Great Hall, Commander.

  Ensign de Luz reports heavy fighting.

  I'm on my way there now."

  "I'll be there quick as I can, Worf.

  Riker out." He turned back to the Tenarans.

  "The M'dok are attacking the city. Stay

  here, and stay together. You should be safe."

  With those words he was off and running. He was

  fifty feet from the entrance to the Great Hall

  before he realized Gretna was following him.

  "What are you doing?" he yelled, coming to a

  stop.

  "My father could be in there!" Gretna said.

  "And if he is, his life's in danger!"

  Horrendous sounds of battle, of screaming

  and yowling, and phasers firing, could be heard from

  within.

  "In danger?" Will bent over to catch his

  breath. "Did I ever tell you how

  perceptive you are for a naive

  Tenaran girl?"

  Gretna tried hard not to smile, but

  failed.

  "Will," she began. "I--"

  The front door to the Great Hall flew

  open, and a M'dok warrior sprang out at

  them.

  Will had no time to draw his phaser. He

  simply threw himself in front of Gretna, and

  met the charging M'dok head-on. The two of

  them fell to the ground, the M'dok's yowling

  mixing with Riker's shouts.

  Gretna screamed. "Will!"

  Riker
fell silent. The M'dok gained

  its feet, and stood poised over him, its

  claws unsheathed to strike.

  Simultaneously, a beam of light shot out

  of the doorway and struck the M'dok. It

  crumpled to the ground and lay still.

  A tall alien in a Starfleet uniform,

  almost as fearsome-looking as the M'dok, stepped

  out of the doorway.

  "Are you all right?" he asked Gretna.

  "I'm fine, but Will ..."

  The alien knelt by Riker's side and

  turned him over.

  He took one look and slapped his

  communicator.

  "Worf to sick bay ... Emergency!

  Beam Commander Riker aboard immediately!"

  When he lifted his hand off the communicator,

  blood stained his uniform.

  "Will he be all right?" Gretna asked.

  Worf nodded hesitantly. "Yes. His

  injuries do not seem severe."

  She turned back toward the Great Hall.

  The fighting within seemed to have stopped. "I've

  got to find my father."

  "Wait," Worf said.

  Gretna turned.

  "You are Gretna Melkinata?"

  "I am."

  "Your father is not in there." Worf

  hesitated. "I regret to tell you he is

  already aboard the Enterprise. He is very

  seriously injured."

  Just outside Zhelnogra, where the city

  disappeared into prairie that had remained

  unchanged for a length of time beyond

  understanding, the burial party was hard at work.

  Jenny de Luz, Lieutenant Worf,

  and a few Tenaran survivors were digging

  graves for those who had fallen in the attack

  on the city. In places, the giant sensor

  dishes of the defense system rose above the

  prairie, metal gleaming in the midst of the

  tall grass. The system was perfectly

  set up, Jenny thought. And yet it failed

  miserably. And I'm the one who certified that

  the satellite web was complete and sufficient.

  I am responsible for much of what happened.

  She straightened briefly, breathing in the

  cold, clean air, stretching her weary back.

  A few hundred yards distant, Worf

  continued digging, working at a relentless pace.

  Gaius had beamed back scant minutes

  ago to the Centurion, to tend to one of his own

  men injured in the attack.

  Luckily, none of the Enterprise

  personnel (save Commander Riker, of course)

  on the surface had been caught in the attack

  --only the Tenarans. And many more of them would have

  lived, had they bothered to pay attention

  to Worf's self-defense lessons.