STAR TREK: NF 13 - Gods Above

by Peter David

  “Remarkable,” Soleta echoed, exchanging a glance with Spock.

  “And permit me to guess,” said Lodec. Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “You are here to obtain a sample of the ambrosia.”

  Calhoun looked as if he were about to respond, but Mueller spoke up before he could do so. “That is one consideration,” she said. “But my orders were simply to observe the impact that the presence of the Beings has had upon you.”

  “Why, they have had a benevolent impact,” Lodec said, as if any other notion was too absurd to contemplate. “How could any reasonable person think otherwise.”

  “Considering,” Spock said, “that the Beings assaulted and nearly destroyed a Federation starship ... and that the earliest known Being, one ‘Apollo,’ held my shipmates hostage a century ago ... and that one of them aided you in terrorizing Ambassador Cwan and his sister ... one would logically have to conclude the Beings are sending mixed messages insofar as benevolence is concerned.”

  To Cwan’s surprise, Lodec laughed softly at that. “My, you do have a way of turning a phrase, Ambassador. Very well, point taken. But things have changed, you have to see that.”

  “We intend to see what needs to be seen,” Calhoun told him sharply.

  For a moment, Lodec studied Calhoun, and then he just shrugged neutrally. “Then you shall do so in as unimpeded a fashion as possible. You are free to do what you will. Go anywhere you wish, see anything you wish. We’ve nothing to hide here. None of my people will hinder you.”

  “And the Beings? Where are they?” asked Calhoun.

  “Oh,” and Lodec gestured in a vague manner, still smiling. “They are around. They move in mysterious ways.”

  “Summon them.”

  For the first time, Lodec looked perturbed. “That ... is not within my ability. I would accommodate you if I could, but I swear I cannot. The Beings come and go as they will. If they choose to appear, they do so. But we do not control them.”

  “No, no ... you just adore them,” said Calhoun. He was now much closer to Lodec, and Si Cwan could see that the scar which Calhoun perpetually carried upon his face was flushing a slightly brighter crimson ... a sure sign that the starship captain was becoming angry. “I want Artemis. I have an injured man because of her. A man who might very well be on the brink of death ... or worse. I believe she’s the only one who can do anything about it. And she had better, or ...”

  “Or what?” Lodec sounded gently reproving. “What do you think you could possibly do that will deter her in some way? Artemis is what she is. They all are what they are. If you,” and he glanced at Spock, “have any hope of working out some manner of cooperation with the Beings, or if you have a desire to obtain ambrosia, then it’s far preferable that you respect them as we do.”

  “By building temples to them?” asked Arex. “By sacrificing helpless animals to them?”

  “Yes,” Lodec said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  And Si Cwan realized that, to Lodec, it very likely was.

  II.

  The away team had split into three groups, heading off in different directions in an almost arbitrary fashion. The notion was, after all, that they were upon a fact-finding mission. So they went their separate ways to find facts. Since they were all in easy communication with one another, there didn’t seem to be a problem.

  Nevertheless, Calhoun insisted that each of them check in with him every half hour. He had no intention of losing touch with any of his people. And Mueller, for her part, kept in constant touch with the Trident, and the Trident with the Excalibur. No one was taking any chances.

  Mueller and Arex walked from residence to residence in the city, stopping and talking with passersby, or knocking on doors and speaking to whomever inside would talk to them. Mueller was impressed by the forthright way in which the people spoke to two offworld strangers.

  Her study of the typical Danteri mind-set indicated that they should have treated them in a high-handed, arrogant manner. But that definitely was not what she and Arex were encountering. Instead the Danteri greeted them warmly, welcomed them into their homes, spoke to them of their hopes, dreams, and aspirations.

  And, of course, they spoke of the Beings.

  “We were lost without them.”

  “They have focused us.”

  “They are greatness personified.”

  “The Beings are the source of all things wise and wonderful.”

  These and many other comments were uttered with the sort of unshakable conviction that Mueller only ever saw in the truly dedicated ... or the truly demented. Nor was it always easy to tell the difference.

  After several hours of hearing the same thing over and over again, Mueller and Arex stopped in the center of a lush park and sat on a bench. More correctly, Mueller sat. The bench wasn’t designed in such a way that the three-legged Arex could make himself comfortable, so he chose to stand.

  “I have never seen this many happy people in my life,” Mueller said. “Have you?”

  “Yes,” said Arex serenely. “My people. But we’re a singularly cheerful race.”

  Mueller half-smiled and shook her head. “Thank you for the clarification, Lieutenant.” Then the smiled faded as she considered the array of chipper individuals they’d met. “Tell me, Lieutenant ... even amongst your ‘singularly cheerful race,’ are you all happy in the exact same manner? About the exact same thing?”

  “No. And I see what you mean and where you’re going with the thought,” he said. “It’s an impressive uniformity of mind.”

  “ ‘Impressive’ would not be the word I’d use. ‘Frightening,’ perhaps. It’s almost as if they’ve started functioning as a hive mind. They’re like the Borg, except they’re not trying to assimilate us.”

  “Aren’t they?” said Arex. “Perhaps the ambrosia is the means of assimilation.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it and nodded.

  They were silent for a moment, and then Arex moved in a slow circle around Mueller. “What do you think of the M’Ress and Gleau situation?”

  “What?” She blinked in confusion. “Where did that come from?”

  “I thought this might be a good opportunity to discuss it, away from the ship.” His head extended a bit further from his body. “I assume you know what I’m referring to. ...”

  “Of course I know. But why are you asking me?”

  “Because,” Arex said slowly, “I have reason to believe that you and the good lieutenant commander exchanged some harsh words.”

  “And how,” inquired Mueller, her voice taking on an icy edge, “would you know that?”

  “I’m head of security, Commander, and a starship—for all its size—is still little more than a small town in space.” He shrugged, which was a truly odd gesture for someone with three arms. “People overhear things, people tell other people things, and sooner or later most people know each other’s business. And if the security chief doesn’t know, he’s not much of a security chief.”

  “And yet, here I am feeling not especially secure.”

  “I notice,” said Arex, “that you’re also not answering the question.”

  “Here’s a concept, Lieutenant,” Mueller replied, rising from the bench and standing with her sharp, angled chin pointed in an imperious manner at Arex. “I’m your superior officer. I am not required to answer any questions that I’m disinclined to answer.”

  “I wasn’t disputing that.” He drew closer to her, tilting his head and studying her with a gaze that seemed to bore right through her head. “But here’s something else that is beyond dispute. M’Ress is a dear, dear friend. And it’s my firm belief that Gleau is out to harm her. I suspect it’s your belief as well. But I’m not going to allow it to happen. So I was curious as to whether you were going to allow it.”

  There was far more to what he was saying than the mere words. Mueller was not the least intimidated by the intensity of his stare. Instead, her interest was piqued. “A dear, d
ear friend? How dear a friend?” There was a distinct air of challenge in her voice.

  She was pleased to see that Arex seemed a bit taken aback by the way she addressed him. “What do you mean by that?”

  “What do you mean?” A slow smile spread across her sharp-edged features. “My God ... are you in love with her?”

  Arex promptly retracted his head, his neck sinking as if it were deflating. “That is a pointless subject to—”

  “You are.”

  “It is pointless to discuss it,” he said, and he turned his face away. “Our ... species ... would not be compatible. Whatever I might feel for her intellectually, even emotionally, is rendered moot by certain physical realities.”

  “And she doesn’t know.”

  He turned back to her. “And you must never tell her.”

  “Are you issuing me an order, Lieutenant?” There was an almost condescending challenge in her voice. “I don’t do well with subordinates ordering me about.”

  “It’s not an order. It’s ... an emphatic request.”

  “I see.” Her lips twitched, and she said nothing for a time. Arex waited, as if he knew that she would talk eventually. Slowly she lowered herself back onto the bench, lost in thought.

  “Do you,” she asked finally, “believe Gleau presents a threat?”

  “I have already said I do,” Arex said promptly, as if he knew she would ask. “My question is, do you believe it?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I feel as if something is off ... but it’s nothing actionable.”

  “Did you threaten him?”

  She shifted on the bench. “We had ... strong words.”

  “He won’t stand for it,” said Arex. “He will do something to retaliate.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as ... I don’t know what. But that, I believe, is part of my job. To not wait around to find out what sort of threat someone poses.”

  “And what would you do, to be preemptive?”

  “Whatever was necessary.”

  “To be blunt, Lieutenant,” Mueller said, “that sounds as much like a threat as anything that Gleau has said.”

  Arex considered that. “Good,” he finally decided.

  III.

  Soleta, Spock, and Si Cwan—the “S” squad, as Si Cwan had dubbed them, getting absolutely no humorous response from the Vulcans (and not really expecting any)—approached one of the temples. They walked right past the lengthy line of people waiting to file through and perform—what? Prayers? Rituals? Slaughter? All of them at once?

  They had not gone directly to the temple. Instead they had first spent time at a meeting of the Danteri senate, and Si Cwan had been quite frankly astounded by what they had witnessed.

  “Committees working in unison,” he told Spock and Soleta as they left after several hours of observing, shaking his head in incredulity even as he recounted it. “Votes being passed unanimously. All points of view being represented and considered before one firm direction is decided upon.”

  “Not, I take it, what you were accustomed to during your stay here?” inquired Soleta.

  “It was impossible to accomplish anything while I was here,” Si Cwan told her. “Every project, every proposal was awash with selfish considerations, tied to irrelevant concerns, and caught up in week upon week of endless discussion. It seemed that the world was governed more through back-room gamesmanship and betrayal than anything approaching uniformity of spirit and will. Now it’s as if ...”

  “They’re all drugged?” suggested Soleta.

  It gave Si Cwan pause, and then slowly he nodded. “You’re saying ...”

  “The ambrosia.”

  “An intriguing hypothesis,” said Spock, “and not remotely outside the parameters of possibility.”

  As they approached the ring of temples that adorned the part of town casually referred to as “Worship Circle,” the people waiting in line didn’t seem to care that the three offworlders appeared to be cutting in front of them. In fact, they stepped back and indicated that the trio should feel free to do what they wished.

  “Not precisely the renowned Danteri aggression of which I have heard tell,” Spock commented as they walked past, “and providing of only further support for the lieutenant’s ambrosia hypothesis.” Then he glanced at Si Cwan. “Curious the twists and turns of fate, is it not, Ambassador?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Ambassador,” replied Cwan. “And for that matter, I wouldn’t have thought Vulcans to be big believers in ‘fate.’ ”

  “I do not speak of ‘fate’ as predestination, but merely a convenient term to apply to life’s vagaries which we can retroactively perceive,” Spock said in his singularly smooth cadences. “As to what I am referring: The last time the three of us were together, Soleta and I were endeavoring to escape imprisonment on Thallon, and you were our captor.”

  Cwan smiled at that. “Yes. Yes, I remember.”

  “Yet now we are thrown together as colleagues.”

  “It is rather amusing, isn’t it.”

  “Speaking as someone who would likely have died in prison if left to Thallonian tender mercies,” said Soleta rather dourly, “you’ll forgive me if I don’t join in the general air of nostalgia.”

  “You are forgiven,” Spock said with no hint of sarcasm.

  They entered the temple. As Si Cwan looked around, he decided that “temple” might be too strong a word. “Shrine” was probably more accurate.

  A small altar had been erected and a Danteri family—father, mother, two sons—were kneeling in front of it, their hands clasped before them in supplication. They weren’t in the process of sacrificing any small living creatures, which Si Cwan was a bit relieved about. What instead caught his attention were the crude paintings on the wall opposite them, on the far side of the altar.

  It was an ebony-skinned being with the head of a fearsome dog.

  “That’s Anubis,” Si Cwan said softly. “In the picture.”

  “Anubis. The Egyptian god of passage to death,” Spock said.

  “Whatever he was ... that’s the bastard who damned near killed me,” Si Cwan told him.

  “Indeed,” said Spock, looking back at the pictures. “Fascinating. And what prevented him from doing so.”

  “Kalinda managed to—”

  One of the supplicants, the father, turned abruptly and, putting his finger to his lips, spat out an annoyed “Shhh!”

  Si Cwan was reasonably certain that he could break the father’s arms and legs without exerting much strength. But he restrained himself, and was rather pleased that he was able to do so. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “Kalinda managed to get her hands on his weapon ... that,” and he pointed at the short scythelike blade that Anubis could be seen holding in his hand. “And she threatened him with it. He didn’t seem especially anxious to attack her while she held it.”

  “Indeed,” said Spock, cocking an eyebrow curiously. “That could be of extreme significance.”

  “Or it could be that he simply had no desire to destroy a lesser being.”

  The voice had come from behind them. The father of the worshipping group, irritated at the newcomer making no effort to keep his voice down, turned his scowl toward the person who had just spoken. Upon seeing the speaker, however, the father’s eyes went wide and he immediately prostrated himself upon the ground, practically groveling. His family took one look where he’d been looking and did likewise.

  The newcomer was clad in Egyptian garb, with wing-like ornaments that ran the length of either arm, festooned with a mixture of black and white feathers. His face was quite handsome, and his eyes were a deep, glistening yellow. He had a slender nose and angular face, and his skin was a healthy olive brown. Something similar to a crown was perched atop his head.

  “Greetings, Soleta,” he said.

  “Thoth.” She glanced at Spock and Si Cwan. “Gentlemen ... this is Thoth. Egyptian god of writing, mathematics, law ...”


  “And truth,” he reminded her softly. “Let us not forget truth.”

  Si Cwan saw a subtle shift in Soleta’s expression, as if something had been brought up that made her most uncomfortable. Thoth, for his part, was looking at the supplicants groveling upon the floor. He reached out with one sandaled foot and prodded the father in the side. “Rise. Your prayers have been heard, and they will be answered. Anubis has assured me of such. Now you may depart. And tell others to remain outside for a brief time, if you’d be so kind.”

  They hastily exited, bowing and scraping as they did so. Thoth watched them go, his mouth drawn in a thin line, looking as if he felt sorry for them. Then he turned back to Soleta and the faint disdain radiantly became a smile. “It is good to see you again, Soleta.”

  “A friend of yours?” asked a skeptical Si Cwan.

  “ ‘Friend’ might be overstating it. Thoth, this is Ambassadors Si Cwan and Spock.”

  Thoth barely acknowledged Si Cwan’s presence, his attention instead focused upon the stately Vulcan ambassador. “I know you of old, I believe,” he said.

  “We have not met.”

  “No. But Apollo made the acquaintance of you, and what he knew, we all know. A tragic figure, Apollo was.”

  “Perhaps between his assaults upon us and his kidnapping of our officers, we were not in the proper position to appreciate the tragedy of his situation,” Spock replied.

  Thoth eyed him a moment and then said, “Hunh. And I take it that you, on some level, object to this world, despite its serenity.”

  “ ‘Object’ is too strong a word. ‘Have reservations’ would be the more proper sentiment. You see, Thoth, I have had some little experience with worlds signing away their growth, development, and independence in exchange either for protection by false deities ... or else for spores or some other element that seems to present a paradise, but for a hidden price.”

  “And you see us as false deities with a hidden price. How tragic, Ambassador. And how little you know of us.” He looked back to Soleta. “Our time together was cut short, Soleta. There are other things that need to be said.”