Star Trek - NF - 11 - Restoration

by Restoration(lit)

  Moke was now looking around in confusion, and Rheela was cursing herself that she had brought him along at all. What spec-tacularly bad timing and judgment she had displayed. He clearly didn't understand what was happening, but she wasn't going to be able to shield him from the realization for much longer. He had come close to her when she had risen to speak, and now he was clutching apprehensively at her leg.

  "No one is driving her away," the Maestress said calmly. "We are speaking of demanding a single standard for those who reside in and around Narrin. That does not seem unreasonable to me. But this is not a dictatorship. This is a place," and she smiled ingrati-atingly-or, at least, as close as she could come to being ingratiat-ing-"where everyone has a say. I look to you for a vote on the Standards and Decency Act."

  "Can we pick and choose?" Ronk asked. "Vote yes for some rules, no for others?"

  The Widow Art now stood and spoke, voice dripping with dis-dain. "What a superb idea. By all means, let us accept without question those things that we find convenient and easy... and re-ject that which would challenge us." She snorted even as she held the paper over her head. "I tell you that this document is a master-

  fill expression of the Narrin mind, and that it would border on sac-rilege to accept it in any way other than in its entirety."

  There were many nods of approval, and Rheela noticed that almost all of them were coming from the older residents of the town... of which there were many. The younger were much fewer, and even many of them were nodding. A few of them were looking regretfully or nervously at Rheela, but didn't have the fortitude to stand up in the face of such widespread disap-proval.

  "She brings us the rain!" Ronk protested.

  "Rain came before Rheela arrived here," replied Howzer. "And it will continue to come long after she is gone. This town didn't spring up overnight, you know, or at Rheela's whim."

  "But shouldn't we discuss-"

  'There is nothing to discuss," Praestor Milos said force-fully... a little too forcefully, in fact. Clearly, he did not wish to cross the Maestress, and was doing everything he could to stay in her good graces by helping to railroad the Act through. "Some-thing is either right or it is not. Discussing it isn't going to make it more or less right. I call for the vote."

  For some reason, Rheela found herself looking over to Cal-houn. He had not budged from the spot he had taken up before. He just stood there, arms folded, watching the proceedings with an unreadable expression. She looked over toward Tapinza... and saw that he was watching her with a certain degree of smugness on his face.

  Then the Maestress began to speak again, and her voice soared with the righteousness of her indignation. "Has it occurred to any of you," she thundered, "that Kolk'r is testing us? That he with-holds the rain because of what he sees as laxness in the way we live our lives? Notice that I say 'we.' I do not exempt myself. I have lived a life of purity and service, and yet not for a moment do I think that I don't share your fate. What affects one of us, affects all of us. I have had a vision-a vision, I say-of an improved quality of life for everyone in this city. But that depends on our

  ability to realize the truth and the way of things, and to follow the right path! A path that is being given to us, here and now. You must not let foolish fears stop you from doing what is right! What is just! What is best for everyone! The council is already solidly behind this Act. It is now left to you to decide whether you're going to follow our lead. This is one of those moments, my chil-dren, when one's future is on the line, and one has to decide in what direction one is going to take that future. I'm asking you all to make that choice now."

  Ultimately, it wasn't even close. When Rheela watched the vast majority of hands accepting the Standards and Decency Act, she felt as if she was having an out-of-body experience. As if she was seeing the entire thing happen from someplace very far away. The few peo-ple who didn't vote in favor of it couldn't even bring themselves to look her in the eye. And even in their cases, she wondered whether it was because of any genuine affection and sense of fair play... or whether they were just afraid of losing a natural resource.

  Even without looking, she felt Tapinza's gaze upon her. Every bit of her skin crawled. It was becoming more clear to her by the minute that he had something very definite in mind. She brought her gaze up to look him in the eyes, and sure enough, he was watching her. He hadn't looked away from her the entire time. It was becoming obvious: this was some sort of "punishment" that he had cooked up in conjunction with the Maestress. She had re-fused to cooperate with him, and, as a result, he was now going to drive her from her home.

  Her heart hardened. Fine. Fine, let it be that way. She had done everything she could, operated out of some sort of misbegotten belief that she could improve their lives. They hadn't asked for her, but she had come just the same. But if that was how they were going to be, then she was more than happy to play it that way. She would just... just leave, that was all, exactly as the stupid Act re-quired. She would leave it all behind-her farm, her dreams of stability-and she would just find somewhere else, And she wouldn't even let anyone know about the Kolk'r-given abilities

  she wielded. She wouldn't make the mistake of caring about what happened to people ever again.

  Or... or better yet... she would stay. How would they like that? She would just sit there, remain on her farm exactly the way she had been. What were they going to do? Force her to move? Let them try. Let them see how much success they would have if-

  She became aware that Moke was saying the same thing, over and over again. She looked down at him, and there were tears streaking down his face as he kept saying, clearly frightened, "I don't want to go! This is my home! I don't want to go!" He was looking fearfully at the people around him, trying to grasp why they would possibly despise him so.

  She was stricken with grief on his behalf. She had never seen the boy look so vulnerable, so hurt. She wanted to take him up in her arms, to tell him that somehow, some way, everything was going to be all right. That he shouldn't let these peoples' igno-rance or judgment weigh upon his conscience. He was a good. boy, she was a good woman, and sometimes in life things simply happened that were unfair. But how does one possibly explain that to a child who is hurting?

  And at that moment, Rheela-who had come to take her mirac-ulous influence over the weather almost for granted-wished to Kolk'r for a small and simple miracle, any miracle, that would sal-vage the situation.

  "Excuse me."

  Calhoun had spoken. All eyes immediately were upon him. It was as impossible to get any sort of read of him as ever. "I think... it's time to be honest."

  "Honest?" The Praestor looked somewhat confused. "About what, Majister?"

  "About Rheela. And our son... Moke."

  SHELBY

  elizabeth shelby was beginning to wonder if she was losing track of herself. If she was becoming unclear on just what she be-lieved, on what her philosophy was. Was she endeavoring to live up to Mac, simply because he was dead? Did she feel she "owed" it to him for some reason?

  She had no idea... and was even less enthused when ship's counselor Laura Ap'Boylan took it upon herself to discuss the matter with her.

  Ap'Boylan's heart was in the right place, Shelby was reasonably sure of that. Still, the relatively correct placement of her heart did not remotely prompt Shelby to want to talk with her. But Ap'Boylan didn't let such a trivial thing as reluctance on Shelby's part deter her.

  "I admit to being a bit surprised that you're down here, Cap-tain," she said, her dark eyes studying Shelby intently as she slid into the seat across from Shelby's desk. "Considering that we're in the process of ridding Makkus of its undesirable insect popula-tion, I'd think you'd want to be right in the middle of the bridge for it, rather than here in the ready room."

  "I have every confidence in my people to handle this proce-dure," Shelby said coolly.

  "That is good to hear," said Ap'Boylan. But then, with the

  slightest flicker of hesitation, she
added, "And do you believe... they have every confidence in you?"

  "Have I a reason to think otherwise?" she replied.

  "You answer a question with a question."

  "Do I?"

  Ap'Boylan's lips thinned, showing her lack of amusement at Shelby's response. "I am only here to help, Captain."

  "I was unaware I needed any help," Shelby told her. She found, though, much to her annoyance, that she disliked taking a harsh tone with Ap'Boylan. The telepath really was harmless enough, and her face had such a look of innocence to it that being harsh with her was like clubbing a baby tribble. She laughed softly to herself over the image that prompted in her head, and then sighed. "Perhaps I do at that."

  Ap'Boylan seemed positively buoyed by the admission. "Good. Good. Admitting one has a problem is the first step to solving it."

  "I don't know for sure that I have a problem. I am sensing, though, a sort of... resistance... from the crew. Doubt, perhaps. Then again, I'm not the telepath. What are you picking up?"

  "I'm not really here to discuss the crew, Captain, but you."

  Shelby blinked at that. "I don't know that I personally need dis-cussion."

  For a moment, Ap'Boylan appeared to be considering the mat-ter. "Captain," she said delicately, as if walking on very thin glass, "what is your philosophy of command?"

  It was a fair enough question. "Actually," Shelby said, after a moment's consideration, "I'd say my philosophy would be pretty much in accord with the credo of the medical profession." "Which credo would that be?"

  " 'First... do no harm,' " Shelby quoted. She leaned forward on the desk, hands folded into each other; she displayed the deter-mined jaw-outthrust attitude of someone who not only knew she was right, but dared someone to prove it otherwise. "I've been giving it a good deal of thought, and I think that's what it boils

  down to. The first priority of this vessel is to try and leave things better than we found them."

  "And what of regulations?"

  "Regulations are absolutely mandatory and necessary," she af-firmed. "We cannot, and should not even try to conduct our busi-ness without them. However, regs are not a straitjacket to prevent us from doing things wrong. Instead, they're a guideline as to how to do things right. Does that seem reasonable?"

  "You don't particularly care whether I think it is reasonable or not," Ap'Boylan said with quiet confidence. "It is simply how you feel."

  'That's correct," admitted Shelby amiably. "One of the captain's prerogatives is that she gets to make up her mind and stick to it."

  "And what prerogatives does the crew have?"

  There was something in her tone-almost a warning sound to it-that got Shelby's hackles up ever so slightly. She forced her-self to cool down. "What... do you mean by that, Counselor?"

  "Nothing," said Ap'Boylan quickly.

  "I rather think you meant something by it," Shelby said, "but we'll let it pass for the moment. Counselor, there is one thing upon which my resolve has not wavered in the slightest, and that is dis-cipline. Discipline and obedience. If my crew wants to voice its feelings, and even register a protest, I am more than happy to listen to all sides for as long as is humanly possible. But it must never be forgotten that I'm the one in command, and no one else. Do you think any of my people are in danger of losing sight of that?"

  "No," said Laura Ap'Boylan. But there was something in her tone that made the captain feel as if something significant was being left unsaid. Then she asked a question that caught Shelby flat-footed: "Do you think he's watching?"

  "He?" Shelby stared at her, not understanding to whom the counselor was referring.

  "He." She pointed at the bulkhead just to the left of Shelby's head. The sword of Mackenzie Calhoun was mounted there. "Calhoun."

  "Oh." Suddenly Shelby felt as if her voice was terribly small, almost infinitesimal. "Do you mean, literally watching? Like a ghost of some sort?"

  "No, not at all," she said quickly, but then seemed to feel as if she had spoken too quickly. "Well... perhaps just a bit, I suppose."

  "I don't see him standing off to the side, his hands covered in blood while waving a skull at me, if that's what you mean. But, yes, I suppose that, to some degree, I feel as if he's keeping an eye on me. Is that so unusual?"

  "No, not at all. It is very common to feel.. " She seemed to search for the right word. "... to feel a desire for approval from someone who is gone. Especially if we were not able to get that approval in life."

  "I don't know what you're talking about. Mac approved of me."

  "You don't have to become defensive, Captain."

  "I do when I'm being attacked."

  "My apologies," Ap'Boylan said mildly. "I was unaware that you were perceiving my thoughts as an attack."

  "It doesn't have to do with my perceptions, it's..." She made an impatient noise. "Never mind. This is exactly the type of situa-tion that makes me reluctant to talk to counselors at all."

  "You have difficulty discussing your emotions?"

  "Discussing? No. Dissecting, yes." She leaned back in her chair, feeling in an expansive mood. "A captain, to a certain de-gree, has to fly by the seat of her pants. Do what she feels is right. Sometimes the regs are then brought in to justify a decision al-ready made. But it's justification all the same. The bottom line is that the captain does what she feels is right."

  "And you've always felt this way?"

  No.

  "Yes," she said firmly.

  No, you haven't; you're lying.

  Through gritted teeth, she said, "Shut up "

  This drew an extremely surprised reaction from Ap'Boylan. "I'm sorry?"

  "Nothing. It was nothing. I was..." She paused, knowing how it was going to sound, but seeing nothing else for it. "I was talking to myself," she admitted.

  "Do you do that often?"

  "No."

  Yes.

  She closed her eyes to force the inner voice to go away. "I... admit," she said slowly, "that my philosophies have... changed a bit. But it's natural that I would see things a bit differently now, isn't it? I believed that regulations were the beginning, middle and end of command. I think Mackenzie Calhoun repre-sents..." She paused, and then, with effort, amended, "repre-sented... a philosophy that was at the extreme other end. But if nothing else, it's made me realize that extremes of any sort are never a good thing. So it was probably appropriate for me to re-assess and realize that regs can be the beginning and middle of command, but the end requires something more. That's all I'm saying."

  "And was that a difficult thing for you to conclude?"

  "Why would it be?"

  "Because," said Ap'Boylan, "it calls into question everything that you've believed up until that point."

  Shelby laughed at that. "Counselor," she said, feeling more re-laxed than she had in a while, "I happen to believe that any day that doesn't call into question everything I believe is a day that's been wasted. Truthfully, I'm not sure why more people don't feel the same way."

  "I couldn't begin to tell you."

  "Well, when you can, get back to me on it." She stood, and the counselor mirrored her action.

  But the Betazoid couldn't quite let it go. "Captain," she said, sounding as if she was feeling her way, "despite the confidence with which you're speaking... I sense a degree of ambivalence from you. You're still not quite certain where you stand. You're feeling your way."

  "You say that as if it's a bad thing. I happen to consider that a great positive," Shelby replied.

  "Leaders," Ap'Boylan said, "don't feel their way. They can't. The one thing they can't afford is to be tentative."

  "I never said I was tentative."

  "You're becoming defensive again."

  "That's because-" Shelby stopped and sighed, very loudly this time. "You know what? I've just made a very untentative de-cision: This discussion ends here."

  "We can resume it at some other time if you'd like," offered the counselor.

  Shelby smiled thinly. "I don't k
now that I'll be liking to any-time soon." With that, she walked briskly out onto the bridge.

  "For a man who just had his world divested of a lethal form of insect life, you certainly don't seem particularly cheerful," noted Captain Shelby.

  Hauman's image was on the screen of the bridge, and it was obvi-ous to anyone that Shelby's assessment was exactly right. Hauman did not look the least bit cheered by the fact that his people were going to survive. He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment and said, "Your observation is... not without its accuracy, Captain. If you desire, I shall endeavor to put on a happier face in the future."

  "You don't have to do anything to accommodate me, Hauman."