STAR TREK: NF 13 - Gods Above

by Peter David

  “In this case, despite all reasonable beliefs to the contrary,” and he looked at the face on the screen, “I was certain from the outset that no technology or procedures, as sophisticated and thorough as they were, would be able to obliterate the personality of Morgan Primus Lefler. Turns out I was right.”

  “And if you’d been wrong?” demanded Morgan. “Would you have let my daughter’s most personal concerns become aired publicly?”

  “I knew I wasn’t wrong,” Calhoun replied, and it was clear from the way he said it that any further pressing of the question would be a waste of time.

  “So ... what now?” asked Robin.

  “Morgan,” Calhoun said, “it’s my surmise that, short of blowing up the Excalibur—again—you’re more or less here to stay.”

  “More or less,” Morgan allowed, and then she glanced cautiously at Robin. “Provided ... that’s acceptable to you, Robin.”

  Robin let out a breath of relief that sounded surprisingly to her like a laugh. “That’s ... perfectly acceptable, Mother. It wasn’t the same without you.”

  “Morgan ... I think you knew immediately that I was testing you,” said Calhoun, and now he sounded very serious. “On that basis, I wasn’t really expecting you to obey me ... as you were likely aware. That is not, however, an acceptable option for the future. Do you understand that? I don’t care that you have a mind of your own. Henceforth, I tell you to do something, you do it. You refuse to carry out an order again, and I will scuttle this vessel, without hesitation. Is that clear?”

  “Clear, Captain,” Morgan said quite formally.

  “Good. Can you take over the conn station?”

  “Of course.”

  “What?” Robin was on her feet, and the others appeared startled as well. “Captain ... ?”

  “We’re heading out, and I’m not inclined to sit around and wait for Starfleet to get personnel here. We’ll swing back for them or rendezvous at a future date,” Calhoun said briskly. “Mr. Devereaux, you’ll return to Starbase 27 at once. We’re pushing off in ten minutes.”

  “Course, Captain?” inquired Morgan. With no change in her expression to indicate any effort on her part, the conn and navigation station came awake from standby position, humming to life and illuminating.

  “Danter. Best possible speed.”

  “Danter, Captain?” inquired Robin.

  “That’s right, Lieutenant. Danter.” He smiled grimly. “We’re heading there for round two. And this time, I’m hoping for an ungodly ending.”

  TRIDENT

  I.

  KAT MUELLER, NAKED, MOVED SLOWLY in the dimness of the room, the lights at half so as not to awaken Si Cwan, who was stretched out on the bed. The dinner that she had invited him to eat remained unconsumed on a table nearby. Fortunately enough, it was a cold chicken dish to start with. Kat had surmised ahead of time that they might find other activities to occupy them beside food.

  A thin coat of sweat covered her body, as she brought her arm up and around in a slow, circular pattern. Then it went down, her other arm came up in a gentle sweep, and then very, very slowly, she thrust forward her right hand in a tiger claw grip. As slowly as she was moving, each muscle strained against itself. She had been moving through the routine for five minutes, and it was superb isometric exercise for her.

  She balanced perfectly on one leg as she drew the other up, keeping her toes pointed, and she snapped out a precision kick.

  Then she heard movement from the bed, and sheets rustle. A moment later, Si Cwan was standing next to her, just behind her, looking in the full-length mirror in which she was watching her reflection. Naked alongside her, he proceeded to imitate her moves perfectly, falling into the smooth, easy rhythm she had achieved.

  They said nothing to one another. It was as if they were the only two beings alive in the entirety of the universe. Mueller came to the surprising realization that she liked having Si Cwan around. It was surprising because Mueller was the sort of person who generally didn’t like having anyone around, so she couldn’t quite comprehend why it was she felt different about Cwan. Perhaps it was because he was more like her than anyone she’d ever been involved with, with the possible exception of Mackenzie Calhoun. And in Calhoun’s case, the unfortunate truth was that they were too much alike. As a result, they would never really have worked well as a long-term couple.

  Another fifteen minutes passed in the silent routine before Mueller finally exhaled a long, steady breath, and Si Cwan followed suit.

  “That was stimulating,” she said. Si Cwan simply nodded.

  They showered together, scrubbing each other down. There was nothing especially sensual about it, although she certainly did appreciate the hardness of his muscles and sleekness of his body. And she was quite sure that he had the same opinion about her body because, of course, who wouldn’t.

  Even as they bathed, her mind was elsewhere. Most particularly, she was thinking about Shelby. The captain had said nothing to her since their confrontation in the conference lounge. That disturbed her. The truth was, in retrospect, Mueller probably had gone too far in her comments about Calhoun. Naturally the woman cared about her husband. She really was out of line. But it wasn’t in Mueller’s nature to seek out Shelby and apologize or seek her forgiveness. If Shelby told her to apologize, she would do so willingly, even gratefully. Initiating the discussion, though ... that, to Mueller, came across too much like groveling. She had far too much German pride for that.

  Shelby hadn’t come to her, though, and that bothered Mueller. As Mueller and Si Cwan dressed in silence, Kat felt as if the disagreement was festering, and that it might even start to bore its way into the captain-executive officer relationship. She knew that wouldn’t be a good thing, that it could be detrimental to the entirety of the way affairs were conducted on the Trident.

  “What are we doing here?” Si Cwan asked abruptly.

  Talk about conducting affairs. “We’re finishing putting on our clothes,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “You know that’s not what I’m referring to, Commander.”

  “Commander?” She laughed coarsely. “Are you always that formal with women you sleep with?”

  “Only when they’re keeping me at arm’s length.”

  Mueller’s uniform top was still hanging open. She faced him and pressed her bare torso up against his. “There. Not arm’s length. Satisfied?”

  “What’s going on here, Kat?”

  She looked up at him, and even in the dimness of the room, the annoyance in her eyes was certainly visible. “You said ‘Robin.’ You called me ‘Robin.’ ”

  “I did not!” Si Cwan protested. “I just called you ‘Kat’!”

  “Not now. Earlier. During.”

  “That’s absurd. I ... didn’t do such a ... I would never ...” He frowned and seemed to deflate. “I did?”

  She nodded. “Loud and clear. ‘Robin.’ Lefler, I assume?”

  “Oh gods. I’m sorry.” He turned away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “She’s ... been on my mind, lately. Something Kalinda said ...”

  “You know what, Cwan?” She fastened closed her uniform shirt, and shrugged. “Let’s just leave it. It’s all right. I shouldn’t even have mentioned it.”

  “It’s not all right. I—”

  “Cwan, you’re not getting it. I said we leave it. So we leave it. This,” and she gestured around the room, indicating in one sweep of her arm all the activity that had passed there, “this is what it is. I’m really not interested in anything beyond that anyway. I’m content to be two ships passing in the night, especially if you feel your harbor is elsewhere.”

  “Kat ...”

  “You can be of help to me, though.” There were so many things she wanted to say, but she managed to keep her voice even and dispassionate. She did so from long practice, and had never been more glad of it. “I may have a problem. Could be my imagination ... could be not.”

  “What sort of problem?”

&nb
sp; In quick, broad strokes, she described to him the encounter she’d had with Lieutenant Commander Gleau. Si Cwan took it all in, nodding and listening, asking a question here and there, but otherwise silent.

  “So you don’t know for sure,” Si Cwan said finally, “whether he really did threaten Lieutenant M’Ress.”

  “No. I don’t. Frankly, my first inclination was to dismiss her worries out of hand. But since then ...” She tapped her solar plexus. “My gut tells me what she said is true.”

  “A conjecture,” said Cwan after a moment’s thought. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, he did threaten her. It’s possible it was an empty threat, one that he never intended to carry out. Perhaps he did so in order to gain some sort of ... of ‘revenge’ for having to sign the oath of chastity enforced upon him, which he would most certainly blame her for. It was, after all, her initial complaints about his using the Knack upon her to have his way with her that set all that into motion in the first place.”

  “Let’s say you’re right,” said Mueller. She had seated herself near the table and was idly munching on a bread-stick. Cwan came over and joined her, sitting opposite her. She waved the breadstick at him as she spoke. “Are you claiming, then, that what he did was acceptable on some level ... ?”

  “No, of course not,” replied Si Cwan. “I am saying, however, that it might not be the life-and-death scenario that you believe it to be.”

  She bit off a piece of the breadstick. The crust was hard and made very loud noises as she crunched down on it. She chewed it quickly and swallowed, and then said, “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “Perhaps I am.”

  “However,” she continued, “in the event that you’re wrong ... if something should happen to me—something violent or mysterious—I want you to know that Gleau might very well be behind it. And if that’s the case, I would be most obliged if you could find it within you to rip his head off his shoulders.”

  “Violent or mysterious?” He looked appalled. “Are you saying you believe this Gleau to be a direct threat to you?”

  “I don’t know what to believe, to be honest, except that one should never downplay possible actions that others may take. If Gleau thinks I’m a potential threat, and he thinks he can dispose of me without being caught doing so ...”

  “How would that be possible?”

  “Who knows what he’s capable of?” she asked reasonably. “If he does have some sort of mind powers that we’re unfamiliar with, who knows what sort of suggestions he could plant in my head. What if he managed to convince me that it would be a superb idea to put a phaser in my mouth and pull the trigger? We don’t know. We can’t know until after it happens ... and if it does happen, I wanted you to be aware to be on the lookout for it.”

  “And you haven’t told Captain Shelby any of this?”

  “It’s my job to tell the captain what I know. Not what I suspect but can’t verify.”

  “It seems to me your job is whatever you decide it to be, and if you wanted to tell Shelby, you could.”

  “Cwan,” she said, “you have to understand that I have a very suspicious nature. If I told Captain Shelby every time I was suspicious about something, I’d be coming to her constantly about all manner of things, to the point where I would be useless as an advisor. And ninety percent of the time, those suspicions turn out to be baseless, or else the basis for matters that are so inconsequential as to not be worth the captain’s time. I will not inform the captain of something that does not yet warrant her attention.”

  “It seems to me that you’re allowing your pride to get in the way,” he told her.

  “Perhaps,” she agreed. “But it’s my pride. And my way.”

  “I can see that.” He looked at her askance. “Would you like me simply to dispose of this Gleau for you?”

  She blinked. “Pardon?”

  “I can do that, if you’d like. Quickly, cleanly, efficiently. None will connect it to you, or even me.”

  “Don’t be insane, Cwan. You can’t just unilaterally decide who lives and who dies ...”

  “I can and I have, on several occasions,” Si Cwan replied.

  “Back when you were a Thallonian noble, perhaps ...”

  “I still am a Thallonian noble,” said Si Cwan with assurance. “The fact that the Thallonian empire is gone is beside the point.”

  “See, I would have thought that was the point.”

  “No. Nobility comes from here,” and he tapped his heart. “In my heart, in my pedigree and training, I am a noble still. And as such, I will do what needs to be done if I feel it needs doing.”

  “Well, don’t,” she said flatly. “Don’t kill Lieutenant Commander Gleau. That’s not what I want.”

  “You want me to avenge your death rather than preempt it.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No,” he replied, sounding quite reasonable about it. “I did. You said everything but that. I merely put it all together.”

  She didn’t have a ready answer for that because she knew, on some level, that he was absolutely right.

  II.

  Captain Shelby looked up as executive officer Kat Mueller strode into the ready room. She knew Mueller’s body language all too well. Her shoulders were squared, her jaw set. She was either looking for, or anticipating, a fight.

  “Captain,” she said briskly, “I believe we need to talk.”

  “Do we.”

  Shelby’s calm demeanor seemed to throw Mueller slightly off balance. Mueller cleared her throat after a moment, her hands tightly behind her back, and said, “We had a disagreement several days ago in the conference lounge ...”

  “Did we?”

  Mueller frowned, staring at Shelby with a distinctly suspicious air. “Captain, are you being coy with me for some reason?”

  “I don’t believe so. I’m curious as to what you think we disagreed about?”

  “Regarding your husband ...”

  “He’s the captain of the Excalibur. I think we pretty much concur on that.”

  “Captain!” said Mueller in obvious exasperation.

  Shelby got up from behind her desk and strolled to the viewing window. She looked out toward the stars as if she could see the Excalibur somewhere out among them. “Look, XO, you implied that my concern over my husband was secondary to my concern over Starfleet orders. The hard fact is, there’s some small element of truth in that. As long as I’m captain of this vessel, my allegiance has to be to what Starfleet wants, and what’s best for the needs of this ship and her crew.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. It doesn’t ever mean that if something happened to Mac because of my inaction or inability to help, it wouldn’t crush my heart ... probably beyond its ability ever to recover. And as long as you never imply anything other than that, we’ll have no further problems. Is that clear?”

  Mueller looked as if she was going to say something else entirely, but then her features softened and she simply said, “Yes, Captain.”

  “Good. Say anything like that again, and I’ll fire you.”

  “You’re joking,” said Mueller. “You would relieve me of duty?”

  “No, I would fire you, as in, out a photon torpedo tube.”

  “Ah.” There were the slightest hints of a smile at the edge of Mueller’s mouth. “Understood.”

  “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss with me?” asked Shelby.

  She thought for an instant that there was something on Mueller’s mind. But if there was, Mueller obviously chose to refrain from sharing it, because she simply shook her head and said, “No, Captain.”

  At that moment, Takahashi informed Shelby that they were drawing within hailing range of Danter, and she and Mueller immediately headed out onto the bridge.

  Shelby wasn’t remotely certain what to expect upon their first contact with Danter. Considering that they had sent Si Cwan and Kalinda speeding on their way with surface-to-space blasts, there was no reason to
assume they might not be treated in a similar manner. So it was with distinct trepidation that she sent a preliminary hail down to Danter when the ship settled into orbit around the planet. She also made certain that Si Cwan was standing next to her when she got a response back, and that Ambassador Spock was there as well ... although he was off to one side, not endeavoring to pull attention to himself. He seemed most intrigued with the bridge, inspecting it carefully. Shelby had a feeling that, if asked, Spock could easily draw a perfect reproduction of the bridge from memory.

  When the image appeared on the screen, she didn’t recognize him at first, nor did Si Cwan. What she saw was a Danteri with a young, robust look to him, round face, pleasant, modulated tone. In fact, he practically seemed to glow with good health. He spread wide his hands and said, “Greetings, my friends. Greetings from Danter. It is good to see you again, Captain Shelby. And before anything else is said, this must be said first: Lord Cwan, I see you there. Can you ever forgive me for our inhospitable treatment of you?”

  Si Cwan stepped forward, bewilderment etched on his face, and then it cleared only to be replaced by even more confusion. “Lodec?” he managed to say.

  At first she thought he had to be in error, but then she realized that, no, it was the senate speaker of Danter, all right. But this was not the aged Danteri whom she had met some time ago. Actually, it was, but he was barely recognizable as himself.

  “I ... I don’t understand,” said Si Cwan, nor did Shelby. “Lodec; you ... you look so very different ... is it you?” He looked at Shelby. “Is it him?”

  Takahashi was already running a quick double check through his ops board. “He’s our boy, all right,” drawled Hash. “His voiceprint matches with the record of his previous communiqués. Match is ninety-nine percent, which is as close as we ever get with that method of ID. You want better, you’re gonna haveta go for genetic, but as they say, this is close enough for jazz.”