by Peter David
“Why don’t you go find out for yourself?” said Si Cwan. Had Kalinda been capable of listening to herself from the outside in, rather than the inside out, she would have noticed that Si Cwan’s voice sounded almost exactly like hers, as if she were providing the vocalization for the both of them. But she was hardly in a position to be aware of such things.
“I thought that you could tell me.”
“I could, dear sister, but what would be the point of that? You need to experience the world yourself. You can’t just curl up into a ball and expect me to keep you current.”
“Why not?” she said plaintively. “I don’t like the world all that much anymore, Cwan. Especially with you no longer in it.”
“Of course I’m in it. You know better than that.” He crouched over her and gently stroked her smooth head. She sighed softly, basking in his touch. “Don’t tell me that you’re starting to see the world the way they see it? I expect far more of you than that.”
“I know, I know. But it’s hard to live with your expectations sometimes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You know me too well,” her brother said with a smile.
“Well enough to know that you’ve changed the subject. Why won’t you tell me what Robin’s condition is?”
“You tell me some things first,” said Si Cwan.
“What can I possibly tell you that you don’t already know? Don’t you know everything?”
“Would that I did,” he said with a sad smile. “It would make things much easier.”
“All right. What do you wish to know?”
“Robin’s mother. I would have thought she would have taken charge of the situation. Robin has a holosuite. As a computer hologram, her mother could have easily handled the delivery.”
“She doesn’t trust her these days,” said Kalinda. “Morgan experienced some sort of—I don’t know—mishap some months ago. She has since recovered, but Robin said that she hasn’t been herself. She acts erratically at times. Plus there are technical aspects to consider. What if some sort of technological problem occurred and Morgan disappeared in mid-birth, or even had the baby in her hands and then dropped him? The only person Robin really trusts to handle her child is Doctor Selar. And that’s who came.”
“Then I suppose it has all worked out for the best.” He looked wistful. “Does Robin ever mention me? Talk about me?”
“Oh yes, all the time,” Kalinda said. “And even when she’s not talking about you, she’s thinking about you. I can tell when she does. She gets a certain look in her eyes. It’s much the same as the one you have on your face right now.”
“Is it? That is…nice,” said Si Cwan. “It is good to know that she has not forgotten me.”
“She gives birth to your heir even as we speak. I don’t see how she could possibly forget you, given the circumstances. Which brings us back to my original question.”
“I’m going to do you a service, Kally.”
“You’re going to tell me?”
“No. I’m not going to tell you.”
“How is that a service?”
“Because it is going to force you to come out of yourself, at least for a little while. You need to rejoin the world, Kally.”
“Why? What’s in the world that holds the slightest interest for me?”
“Your nephew, for one thing. You’re his only living blood relative. He deserves more than an eccentric aunt who spends her days immobile and muttering to herself.”
“Is that how you see me?”
“That is how others see you, and since I have no impact on the world, I’m afraid that that perception holds a good deal of sway. And I can think of no better way to make your presence known as something other than an eccentric than by going to Robin’s chambers and seeing how matters fare for yourself.”
She hesitated. “What if—?”
“What if what?”
“What if they laugh at me? Or are afraid of me, or feel sorry for me?”
“None of that is going to happen,” he said with assurance. “You worry too much, Kalinda.”
“And you do not worry enough. Which is unfair to say since you’re dead and so your worries have ceased.”
“Nonsense. I worry about you and Robin all the time, and have even greater frustration since I can do nothing about it.”
“I miss you.”
“Yes, so you’ve said. And I miss you as well. But that isn’t going to help one bit. What will help is you getting on your feet and acting like a proper Thallonian of noble birth. Make me proud, Kalinda.”
“Very well, Cwan. For you.”
Kalinda got to her feet, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She started to take a step forward and nearly collapsed. It was only then that she realized her legs were practically numb. How long has it been since I walked someplace? Kalinda wondered as she braced her back against the wall and shook her legs to restore circulation. Then she headed for Robin’s chambers.
Various servants or casual visitors did double takes when they saw Kalinda walking past them. She would smile or tilt her head in acknowledgment, and it amused her that people didn’t seem to know how to act around her. One would have thought that she had returned out of nowhere after being reported dead for a year. They would clear their throats nervously or try to say something to her but fail. What did they think she was going to do? Leap upon them and tear out their jugular veins with her teeth?
She decided that their perceptions of her, and their discomfort, were entirely their problem.
As she approached Robin’s quarters, she heard a thin, reedy whine. She quickened her pace and moments later she was at the door. Zak Kebron was blocking it, and although his face was not designed to display emotion, he still looked mildly surprised to discover her standing before him. “Kalinda,” he said, acknowledging her presence in that low, rumbling way he had that always sounded like a rockslide in progress.
“Hello, Kebron. Where are the guards?”
“Robin informed them that, with me here, they could take a break. They didn’t offer much protest. I don’t think they were thrilled to stand here and listen to a woman screaming. Are you here to see Robin?” When she nodded, he stepped aside slightly, opening a small space for Kalinda to slide through. She did so.
Robin was lying in bed, looking exhausted but content. A child, swaddled in a white cloth, lay wrapped in her arms. His skin was pale red, evocative of his father’s tone, but to Kalinda’s great amusement, he had a swatch of dark brown hair on his head. Since this was a rarity for Thallonian males, Kalinda was tempted to burst out laughing. She thought, though, that Robin might take offense, so she managed to contain herself, although she did allow a broad smile to crawl across her face.
Doctor Selar was cleaning her hands meticulously with a cloth. She glanced toward Kalinda and the entirety of her reaction to Kalinda’s presence was to raise an eyebrow.
“Kally,” said Robin. “You’re up and about.”
“Yes.” Slowly she approached mother and son. “He’s beautiful.”
“I thought you would be off put by the hair.”
“He is a product of his father and mother. We accept him as he is.”
“I’m pleased to hear you say that. Kally, are you…?”
“Am I what?”
“Are you…all right?”
“Why would I not be?”
“Because…”
Then Robin’s eyes sagged and her head slumped back. She moaned softly. Concerned for her well-being, Kalinda said to Doctor Selar, “What’s happening?”
“She just gave birth. She is tired and should not strain herself in extended conversation with anyone.”
“Very well,” said Kalinda. “May I ask, though, if she has chosen a name for him?”
Despite her fatigue, Robin managed to raise her head from the pillow just enough to say, with a smile, “Cwansi. I’d like to think that Cwan would be proud.”
Kalinda looked across the room and saw Si Cwan standing on the other side of the bed. He was smiling, perfectly beaming, down at his son.
“I very much think you are right,” said Kalinda.
With that, she turned and walked out of the room. Zak Kebron watched her as she sidled past him and then slowly slid to the floor. She drew her legs up and tucked her knees under her chin, just as she had done earlier. He stared at her with open curiosity, but she did not appear to notice.
“I did as you asked,” she said, her voice dropping back to its muttering tone. “I saw him. I told her he is beautiful, even if he is odd looking. All his best attributes come from you. But she looked at me pityingly. They all did. I hate when people look at me that way. Hate it.”
“They weren’t looking at you pityingly,” Si Cwan said. “They just…they don’t understand you, Kally. They want the best for you. They do. They worry about you.”
“The only person who really worried about me is you.”
“That’s not true. The crew of the Excalibur cares about you. And Xyon. Xyon cared about you a great deal. Xyon loved you, or at least did as much as any of his ilk can love.”
“You always disliked him.”
“Yes, well, that’s true. But that didn’t diminish his feelings for you. If you find yourself uncomfortable with the attentions of others, perhaps Xyon—”
“I just want them all to leave me alone. I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone but you.” She reached out and held his hand and sighed contentedly. All was right.
iii.
Zak Kebron watched Kalinda as she grasped empty air and continued to speak to herself in a low, intense voice that seemed to be shifting tones. It sounded to him as if she were holding both sides of a conversation with herself.
Even as she spoke, though, one name popped out at him.
He tapped his comm badge and said, in as soft a voice as he could manage—which wasn’t terribly soft by human standards, but for a Brikar was positively sedate—“Kebron to Calhoun.”
“Excalibur. Calhoun here. What’s the status, Zak?”
“Mother and son are doing fine.”
“That’s excellent,” said Calhoun, who sounded relieved.
“The aunt, however, is not doing quite as well.”
There was a pause as Calhoun processed who it was that Kebron was referring to. “You mean Kalinda? What’s wrong with Kalinda?”
“It’s not so much what’s wrong with her as what’s right with her.”
“All right,” Calhoun said patiently. “What’s right with her?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re going to have to elaborate.”
“She’s curled up on the floor about five feet away from me in what I could only term the fetal position, talking at length to someone who’s not there.”
“Kebron, it’s been my experience that our definition of what is and is not there is not always consistent with the way Kalinda sees things.”
“That may well be, Captain…”
“Believe me, it is.”
“…but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need help coping with the world that the rest of us sees.”
“I’m not entirely certain this is any of our business, Kebron, but go ahead.”
Kebron laid out for him what he wanted Calhoun to do.
“No,” said Calhoun.
“Don’t say ‘no’ immediately, Captain.”
“Considering I already have, that request comes a little late…”
“Sir,” Kebron said patiently, “your instinct may be to refuse—”
“And I tend to trust my instincts.”
“—but once you give it some thought, you’ll realize that Kalinda is an individual in pain who needs help only you can provide.”
“I intend to give this no thought at all. Calhoun out.”
Starship Excalibur
i.
Twenty minutes later, Mackenzie Calhoun punched the armrest of his command chair and said with a snarl, “Damn him!” He’d been in his ready room when he had the conversation with Kebron, so no one on the bridge had the slightest idea to whom he was referring, nor did he make any attempt to clarify it. Instead he continued, “Morgan,” before she’d had time to react to his unexpected outburst. “Get a message to my son.”
“Do you want me to summon Moke to the bridge, sir?”
“Not my adopted son, who’s barely speaking to me. My bastard son, who can’t stand me.”
“Ah,” said Morgan, understanding. Her hand was already manipulating the ops board. “Okay. I actually have a direct emergency frequency for Xyon.”
“You do?” That was news to Calhoun. “Why?”
“He left it with me in case there was a problem with Kalinda and we needed to get in touch with him quickly.”
Smiles did not come easily to Calhoun, but one came now in spite of himself. “He thought ahead. I taught him well.”
“With respect, Captain, you didn’t meet him until he was grown. You didn’t really teach him anything.”
“It imprinted on a genetic level.”
“Whatever you say, sir. What do you want me to tell him?”
“Tell him there’s a problem with Kalinda.”
“And, if I may ask…is there a problem? With Kalinda, I mean.”
“Honestly, Morgan,” Calhoun said slowly, “I wish I knew.”
ii.
Doctor Selar strode into the ready room with a faint air of impatience. “You wished to see me, Captain?”
“I left word with the transporter room that you should come directly here upon returning to the vessel, yes.” He had been recording his log, but he turned the computer aside and focused his attention on Selar. He studied her with concern. These days she hardly seemed recognizable. She was never a warm and fuzzy individual even on her best days, but the gap between the old Selar and the one standing before him had now widened immensely.
He had toyed with the idea of relieving her of duty, but he could see no credible reason for doing so. She was performing all her duties with no diminishment of efficiency. Granted, her bedside manner was cold, even indifferent, but no one expected much bedside manner from a Vulcan anyway, so that was hardly grounds for his taking action.
“Very well,” said Selar. “So here I am. Do you wish a report on the status of Robin Lefler?” When he nodded slightly, she said, “Mother and son are in satisfactory condition. The child is seven pounds, three ounces. Skin color is unusual, but attributable to his mixed parentage.”
“Odd how different races can interbreed, isn’t it?” said Calhoun thoughtfully. “One would think it impossible that alien species could possibly have similar enough genetic material to produce offspring. A human and a Thallonian? Or, for that matter, a human and a Vulcan?”
“Is there anything else, Captain?”
“Sit down, Selar.”
“I prefer to stand. It will make taking my leave more efficient.”
“Are you in a hurry?”
“I have a patient in sickbay to attend to.”
“Yes. Rulan 12. How is s/he coming along?”
“No change in hir condition.”
“Is s/he going to come out of it?”
“I do not know.”
There was something about her, about her attitude, that Calhoun couldn’t quite put his finger on. He studied her intently and said, “Doctor, is there something you’re not telling me about Rulan?”
“It is my responsibility to keep the commanding officer apprised of the condition of any patients.”
“Yes, it is. And I notice that that isn’t exactly a reply to the question.”
She pursed her lips, which was what she typically did when she was annoyed but had no desire to convey that. “There is nothing you need to know that I have not already told you.”
Now Calhoun knew that something was definitely going on. “That implies, Doctor, that you’re making a judgment call as to what I need to know or do not need to know
. That is unacceptable to me.”
“I am the chief medical officer, Captain. If you think my judgment in such matters is not to be trusted, then relieve me of duty and replace me with someone whom you think is more reliable.”
There was no challenge in her voice, or even her customary iciness. She sounded as if she were truly indifferent to the prospect of being relieved of her duties as CMO. Slowly he got to his feet so that he and Selar were on eye level. “Selar,” he said with a great show of patience that didn’t reflect how he truly felt, “what the hell is going on? Before you went down to New Thallon, you specifically instructed your medtechs not to breach quarantine…”
“In keeping with standard procedure.”
“You’re keeping them at a distance.”
“I am limiting the exposure of my patient to others as a safety measure.”
“Grozit, Selar, stop fencing with me. What is there in Rulan’s condition that you’re not telling me?”
Without hesitation, she said flatly, “Nothing, Captain. There is nothing in the patient’s condition that I am withholding from you. If you do not believe me, I invite you to have one of my technicians, or even my son, perform a detailed examination. Of course,” she added, “if you do so, I will immediately tender my resignation as ship’s CMO, since you will have made it abundantly clear that you no longer trust me, my opinions, or my actions.”
He could not determine whether it was a stone-cold bluff or if she was simply displaying that endless pride in her abilities that so characterized her. He wished that he could somehow just flip open the top of her skull and study her brain, read her thoughts so he would know precisely what was going through her mind. Absent that ability, he felt he had no choice. “Very well, Doctor,” he said finally. “I will take your word for it. May I point out that if you had simply responded in such a straightforward manner originally, we would not have had to go in circles like this?”
“My apologies, Captain. In the future I will endeavor to phrase my responses more to your liking. Am I dismissed?”
“By all means.”
She turned on her heel and headed out the door. Calhoun watched her go and then sagged back into his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was one of those times when he wished that his wife, Elizabeth Shelby, were still with him aboard ship. The isolation of command was weighing more heavily than ever upon him these days.