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

by David

Marcus yourself, Lieutenant Worf. And find

  out what he knows about Gaius' death."

  Worf grinned, revealing two rows of sharp,

  even teeth.

  "It will be my pleasure, sir."

  Marcus Volcinius, in his brand-new

  sumptuous house in Zhelnogra, was feeling

  rather pleased with himself. He was ahead of the schedule

  he had proposed to his cousin. Tomorrow

  he would begin the organization of what he intended

  to call the Young Romans League.

  He was wearing the ornately embroidered

  toga he would wear the next day when he

  addressed the new organization. On his desk

  before him was a sheet of paper on which he was

  drawing various possible standards that the Young

  Romans would carry during their frequent

  parades. At this point, the words of the

  League's charter were still vague, but he knew

  they'd come to him. This kind of organizing was

  certainly his talent, what the gods had made

  him for. In the future--the future planned

  by Sejanus--there would be even more avenues for that

  talent.

  The sound of a knock on the door interrupted

  his pleasant reverie.

  "Come in," he said. He was expecting

  Julius Apius, his personal assistant.

  "Now, Julius," he said, not bothering

  to look up, "I need you to arrange for another

  case of the local ale--the jhafre--to be

  brought here immediately. The first one is simply

  unsatisfactory, and--"

  "Excuse me."

  That was not Julius' voice.

  He looked up--and saw Lieutenant

  Worf from the Enterprise standing in front of his

  desk, hands folded behind his back.

  "I was told I might find you here,"

  Worf said. "If you have a moment, I would like

  to discuss several matters with you."

  Marcus glanced quickly at the old-fashioned

  clock hanging on the wall behind Worf.

  "I find I am running late for an

  appointment, Lieutenant." He rose and

  pushed his chair back from the desk. "Perhaps tomorrow

  afternoon ..."

  Worf turned and noticed the clock.

  "Hmmm," he said, taking it down off the wall

  and examining it closely. "Your clock is

  running fast." He turned the hands back a

  full hour. "Now it shows the correct time."

  The Klingon pulled up a chair and sat

  down in front of Marcus' desk. "Now, I

  would like you to tell me about Gaius Aldus--

  what happened to him after you two left me."

  "Ensign de Luz calling, sir."

  Sejanus rose from his desk.

  "Put this on a closed channel, Ensign.

  In my quarters only."

  "Aye, sir."

  Sejanus strode quickly to the small

  monitor in his quarters and activated it.

  "I have the information you requested, Captain,"

  Jenny said. Her eyes shone with excitement.

  "Excellent. Beam over at once."

  Jenny shook her head. "It would seem too

  suspicious. I will rendezvous with you on the

  planet's surface in one hour." She gave

  him a set of coordinates outside the city.

  Sejanus nodded to himself. The fewer people who

  knew he had been meeting with an Enterprise

  crew member before that ship's untimely

  destruction, the better. "Very well.

  Sejanus out."

  He placed another call to his personal

  guard, to alert the engineers aboard the

  Enterprise to stand ready.

  Chapter Fourteen

  "That is a very interesting story," Worf said

  calmly. "Now I would like to hear the truth."

  "What I've told you is the truth,

  Lieutenant," Marcus insisted. He raised

  his right hand and held it out so that his palm was facing

  Worf. "I swear it--upon my honor as a

  Roman."

  Worf frowned in disapproval. "Then we

  Klingons have a much different code of honor

  than Magna Romans. We would never swear

  to such a transparent lie."

  Marcus wiped his brow. The Klingon had

  remained virtually motionless in his chair for the

  last five minutes while Marcus spun a

  tale of how Gaius Aldus and he had gone

  to a brief meeting with a group of Tenaran

  farmers. Now Worf glanced briefly at the

  clock behind him again, and spoke in a disapproving

  tone.

  "I see your clock is beginning to run fast

  once more."

  But while the Klingon's attention was

  elsewhere, Marcus had extended one

  hand below his desk, eased open a drawer, and

  reached inside.

  "I don't know what you want from me,

  Lieutenant," the Magna Roman said, "but

  I assure you--"

  He drew the phaser that had been hidden in his

  desk and held it in front of him with both

  hands, pointing it directly at Worf.

  "--t you are not going to get it."

  He would have to kill the Klingon, of course--

  but how to explain his disappearance? Then he

  remembered; it would not matter. His captain's

  plan called for the disappearance of the entire

  Enterprise crew.

  He laughed.

  Worf shook his head reproachfully. "I

  know you are not threatening me with that phaser," he

  said. "That would be a foolish thing to do."

  "Oh?" Marcus raised an eyebrow.

  "How so?"

  "It is very simple," Worf continued. "That

  is a type-I phaser--currently turned

  to setting three. Powerful enough to stun most

  humanoids, but unfortunately for you"--and here

  he smiled--"we Klingons are not most

  humanoids."

  Marcus' own grin wavered slightly.

  "Of course," Worf continued, "you could

  change the current setting. But that would take you

  at least two seconds, during which time I would

  surely--"

  Marcus glanced for a split second at the

  phaser, sliding his thumb forward ...

  ... and Worf bounded over the desk in one

  easy motion, ripping the phaser out of Marcus'

  grasp as easily as if he was disarming a child.

  "--overpower you," Worf finished, sitting

  back in his chair again. "I was wrong. It

  took you only one second to change the setting

  on the phaser." He smiled.

  "Congratulations."

  Marcus nodded dumbly.

  "Now, tell me about Gaius Aldus,"

  he said. "The truth. Or perhaps you would like

  to experience some of the physical discomfort I

  promised you earlier ..."

  Marcus slumped disconsolately over his

  desk and began to talk.

  The Tenaran plains were dusty and dry, and the

  wind was high.

  Jenny blinked back tears from irritated

  eyes as she waited for Sejanus.

  He materialized about a meter in front of

  her, dressed in Roman armor instead of a

  Starfleet uniform.

  "Jenny," he said, stepping toward her. He

  took her hands in his, and smiled. "Do you have

  the prefix code for me?"
>
  "Yes, I do. But first I want to know

  something."

  "Of course." Sejanus nodded. "What

  is it?"

  Jenny let her hands drop to her sides and

  stared the Centurion's captain in the face.

  "Why did Gaius kill h imself?"

  "Why did ...? Well ..." He cleared

  his throat. "I assumed Captain Picard

  had told you. A family scandal." He

  looked directly at her. "To talk of it now

  ... brings me pain. You do understand, don't

  you?"

  "Of course," Jenny said quietly. "It

  brings me pain too."

  Her gaze left Sejanus' face and

  seemed to focus beyond the horizon, into empty

  space. When she spoke again, her voice was

  harsh and empty of feeling. "Because when Gaius

  and I first met, you see, he told me he had

  no family. No one in the world at all--but

  you."

  She turned back to Sejanus, and now she

  couldn't keep the tears from her eyes. "He

  loved you. And you killed him--just as surely as

  if you had driven the sword through him with your own

  hand."

  "That's nonsense," Sejanus said

  coldly. "Utter nonsense."

  "Then why the lie about his family? Why

  did he kill himself?"

  In response, Sejanus moved closer

  to her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  "Forget him, Jenny. You and I are what is

  important now. The things we can achieve together

  ..."

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head,

  pulling away from him. "You still don't understand,

  Captain Sejanus." Her eyes snapped

  open. "Captain, in my capacity as

  an officer of Starfleet security, I am

  placing you under arrest, relieving you of duty

  until such time as you may be brought to trial.

  You are charged with conspiring to overthrow by force the

  democratically elected government of a

  Federation member world."

  "Jenny ..." He stepped forward, offering

  her his hand. "Come with me. Stand by my side. You

  can have power, glory, everything--"

  She cut him off. "I don't want your

  power," she said, spitting out each word, "and I

  don't want you."

  "Then you're a fool," he said, reaching for his

  sword. "And you will have to die a fool's death--

  just as Gaius Aldus did."

  Jenny stared at him unbelievingly for a

  second.

  And then she went mad.

  There was very little of Starfleet training in her

  attack, and nothing of discipline. She was the

  daughter of an ancient warrior family of

  Meramar, of a people accustomed to fighting their way

  to what they wanted through blood and war, and it was this

  tradition that sent the adrenaline pouring through her

  in a burst of freezing flame, sent her hands

  reaching for Sejanus' throat.

  He stepped back, hand around the gladius

  hanging by his side; before he could do more than

  draw it halfway, her foot smashed into his

  wrist, and then she was on him.

  He was knocked to the ground by her furious

  attack, landing with her hands already locked around his

  neck. He grabbed her wrists, trying to force

  her hands back, trying to breathe.

  Slowly the pressure lessened, and he

  gained enough leverage to pull his leg out from under her,

  placing his knee against her belly and pushing.

  Even as she was lifted off him, she struck

  down like a snake, fastening her teeth in his arm,

  and then they were rolling over and over in the dirt,

  each trying desperately to gain an

  advantage over the other.

  His superior size and weight told

  heavily in this type of fighting. In the end,

  though cut and bruised, he was on top of her,

  holding her wrists with one hand, while the other

  drew back for a brutal punch to the side of

  her face.

  The Roman struck her with a fury as great as

  hers, uncontrolled animal

  brutality, for that was his way. Both of them children

  of warrior worlds, they had both lost control in

  the rush of blood lust.

  And suddenly Jenny was clearly, coldly

  sane.

  It's the warrior's way. It's

  Sejanus' way. But not Starfleet's way,

  not Captain Picard's--and not mine! She could

  win, she knew, if she fought as she had been

  trained. Even as he was preparing to hit her

  again, she shifted under him, finding the weak point

  in his balance and throwing him off in a single

  convulsive movement.

  Before he could rise, she lashed out with a snap

  kick, catching him in the face, and then leapt

  to her feet. He rose almost as quickly,

  stretching out his hands and roaring as he charged for

  her.

  It could hardly have been simpler. She

  stepped aside, dodging him easily, and

  delivered a vicious kidney punch before

  catching him in the stomach with a powerful roundhouse

  kick.

  Holding his side, he wheeled and charged her

  again. This time she did not step aside; instead,

  she met him squarely, stepping forward and

  driving a side kick straight into his chin.

  The shock jarred her, but Sejanus fell

  to the ground, trying weakly to rise and then

  collapsing, semiconscious.

  She stood there sucking in great gasps of the

  clean, cold air, standing over her fallen

  opponent.

  Then she reached up to her communicator.

  "De Luz to Enterprise," she told

  them. "Two to beam up." And then she threw

  back her head and looked to the sky as her body

  dissolved in the transporter beam.

  "Lieutenant Worf calling from the

  planet's surface, sir."

  "Put him on-screen," Picard snapped.

  He'd just had another frustrating day of

  discussions with the Great Saavta--and another

  angry exchange with its hard-line members

  over the need for Federation defenses on Tenara.

  The captain leaned forward in his chair, hoping

  for good news.

  Worf's face appeared on the main

  viewscreen at the front of the

  bridge.

  "Any progress, Lieutenant?"

  "Yes, sir," Worf replied. "I found

  Marcus Volcinius, sir--and some very interesting

  information."

  Captain Picard listened intently as

  Worf relayed the information Marcus had given

  him.

  "Well done," Picard said when he was

  finished. "Bring your prisoner aboard ship, and

  then I think we'll arrange another meeting

  with the Tenarans."

  "Yes, sir." The Klingon's image

  faded from the viewscreen.

  Picard smacked his hands together in

  satisfaction, and sat down again.

  "Get Sejanus on the Centurion for

  me, and--"

  "No need, Captain."

  Picard spun.

  Jenny de Luz stood in the turbolift,

  her hair dishe
veled, her uniform torn and

  dirty, her face bruised.

  "Captain Sejanus is in the brig."

  She smiled. "And I am reporting in--fit

  for duty, sir."

  Picard walked slowly up to the deck in

  front of the turbolift and studied Jenny for a

  moment before he spoke.

  "Yes, you are, Ensign." He smiled.

  "And we're glad to have you back."

  When he had to, Geordi La Forge could

  move.

  And judging from what little Captain Picard

  had told him, he had to move now. When he

  reached the turbolift, his heart was pounding

  madly; he had covered the short distance from his

  quarters with a speed that would have surprised some of the

  best runners in the Federation. The human ones,

  anyway.

  Data, whom Picard had also alerted, was

  already in the turbolift, waiting.

  "Engineering," Geordi gasped as he leaned

  against the turbolift door. He shook his

  head. "Appius Cornelius and his Magna

  Romans have been crawling all over this ship for

  days. They've probably got the engines

  halfway dismantled by now!"

  "I hardly think that likely,

  Geordi," Data began. "Were that the

  case, we surely would have noticed--"

  Geordi shook his head, just as the

  turbolift doors slid open.

  Simultaneously, the turbolift doors

  on the other side of engineering opened, and three

  security officers stepped out, their phasers

  drawn.

  The Centurion personnel who had been

  working on the Enterprise systems looked up,

  startled. As the security guards approached

  them, most simply raised their hands over their

  heads, but one grabbed a heavy tool and swung

  at the head of one of the security officers.

  There was no time to react, and Geordi

  gasped, expecting to see the officer's head

  laid open--and then an arm suddenly appeared

  between the tool and the officer's head, stopping the

  blow with ease.

  Data smiled pleasantly, showing no sign

  of pain from a blow that would have broken a human's

  arm. He removed the tool from the Roman's

  grasp and crumpled it with one hand.

  "I believe the appropriate phrase is

  "Surrender or die,"" Data said.

  Geordi laughed. "You've been reading too

  many old detective stories, Data. No

  one says that anymore!"

  "Why not?" Data asked, turning back

  toward the Roman, who had his hands held high

  and clearly intended to offer no further

  resistance.

  "It seems to work quite well."