by Peter David
“That’s good to know,” and then she added hesitantly, “I suppose. But if that’s the case, then—”
“Why am I here?” Shelby nodded. Soleta leaned forward and crooked her finger, indicating that Shelby should draw closer. Shelby did so and Soleta whispered, “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“What?”
“Lucius, my second in command, said we should come here.”
“Why did he say that?”
“He didn’t give specifics.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I’m not?” Soleta appeared to be considering the charge, scratching the underside of her chin thoughtfully before finally proclaiming, “No. No, upon reflection, I have decided that I am indeed serious.”
It certainly appeared as if the ale was beginning to work its magic on her. It had taken its own sweet time doing so. She was a far sight from drunk, but she was certainly relaxed.
“What did he say, if he didn’t give specifics?”
“He said that he had a vision that we should come to Bravo station.”
Now it was Shelby who reflexively laughed, but she quickly gained hold of herself when she saw that Soleta wasn’t the slightest bit amused. “Seriously. A vision?”
“Yes.”
“Is he prone to such foresighted pronouncements?”
“Never. He has never had one like it before.”
“And you trust that he’s being truthful with you? That he’s not just fabricating this for some unknown reason?”
“Of course I don’t trust him,” said Soleta as if the suggestion that she might was the most absurd thing she had ever heard. “Why do you think I made certain that he can’t take over command of the ship? He led a mutiny against me, for God’s sake. How am I supposed to trust a man like that?”
“So why do you tolerate his presence on your vessel?”
“Because it pleases me to do so. And at this point in my life, I am satisfied for that to be the case.”
“He has you come to Bravo station with no indication as to why he wants to come here and that satisfies you?”
“No, that does not,” she said. It was a reluctant admission. “But I am sure that even you will have to admit that one cannot have everything.”
“And what if you find, while you’re content to indulge Lucius in his desires, that you take issue with whatever the hell it is he wants to do here.”
“I will deal with that if and when the time comes.”
“Don’t give me that, Soleta,” she said, stabbing a finger at her. “You haven’t managed to survive for as long as you have without thinking ahead. I do not believe for one moment you haven’t determined exactly what you’re going to do if Lucius pulls some sort of double cross. Arranging it so that your ship goes dead in space isn’t enough. You know that as well as I. There’s going to be an aftermath, consequences. If he tries to betray you, you can’t just pick up as if it’s business as usual. Which brings us right back to the question of what you’re going to do if faced with that situation.”
“I won’t be faced with that situation. It will not happen,” said Soleta, but she did not sound either convincing or convinced.
The Lyla
The first thing that Xyon became aware of was that his head was throbbing. The second thing he realized was that he was on the floor. Why in the world would I go to sleep on the floor? Xyon wondered, and it was only belatedly that he started to remember—piecing the shards of memory together, reconstructing it as if it were a shattered mirror—precisely what had happened. He had a vision of Kalinda standing over him, an unlikely expression on her face and strange words on her lips.
He started to sit up and almost fell back.
“I would take my time, were I you,” came Kalinda’s voice, except it sounded different. Contemptuous, bordering on derisive. “You were hit rather hard.”
“And you’re the one who hit me…”
“That is true. You got off lightly. I could have crushed your skull once and for all.”
“Lightly? Of all the—” Xyon forced himself to sitting again and this time he grabbed onto the edge of his pilot’s chair and pulled as hard as he could. Despite the fact that his surroundings were swimming around him and he wanted to do nothing else save lie back down, or vomit, or both, Xyon kept himself upright. He took a few deep breaths and let them out slowly, and then pulled himself to a standing position. He needed to lean on the back of the chair to steady himself, but at least he was on his feet. He reached up and touched where the latinum brick had slammed him on the head. It was covered with dried blood, and his hair felt sticky and stiff.
Kalinda was leaning against the wall, her arms folded across her breasts.
“Kalinda…why? Why did you…I mean, I don’t understand.”
“You understand. You just refuse to acknowledge it. Look at me. Look into yourself. Admit what is happening.”
As insane as it sounded, even to himself, he was looking at Kalinda’s features, but the expression was distinctly that of…of…
“Lyla!” he called abruptly. “Lyla, get out here—!”
The holographic entity flared into existence before him. She had the same gentle smile she always did. “Hello, Xyon. I hope you’re feeling better after your enforced rest.”
“‘Enforced rest’? Lyla, she knocked me out!”
“I am very aware of that, Xyon.”
“Did you immobilize the ship?”
“Of course I did, just as you programmed me to do.” She indicated Kalinda with a slight inclination of her head. “He seemed most put out about it.”
“Watch your pronouns, Lyla. That’s a she, not a he. A she who is in desperate need for the kind of help that I cannot provide for—”
“You are mistaken, Xyon. That is not a ‘she.’ That is a ‘he.’ He has told me his name is Si Cwan.”
Si Cwan. That’s it. That’s the end of it. Except…damn, she looks so much like…
No. She’s lost her mind. That explanation is the simplest and most straightforward and is the only one that is remotely acceptable.
“She may have told you that,” said Xyon with forced patience, “but all that means is that she is not well.”
“I cannot agree, Xyon. I have scanned him quite thoroughly and he seems perfectly health—”
“Would you stop calling him—I mean her—him!” He clutched at the sides of his head in frustration and then moaned loudly because any physical contact made his skull throb all the more. “She’s not Si Cwan!”
“You are an idiot, and we are wasting time,” Kalinda said.
Xyon shook his head forcefully, clearing the last of the muzzy-headedness from his brain. “Listen—”
“No. There is nothing that you can say other than that you are offering your cooperation that could possibly be of any interest to me.”
“What am I supposed to believe, Kalinda? That you assaulted me because the ghost of your brother took over your body?”
“That is exactly correct. You surprise me, boy. You have been so single-minded in your pursuit of my sister that I was of the opinion there was room for nothing else in your mind save your obsession with her. Apparently you can actually grasp other concepts as well.”
“Oh, I grasp it. I simply don’t accept it.”
“Your acceptance is of no relevance to me,” said Kalinda. As ludicrous as it was, Xyon had to admit to himself that she certainly had Si Cwan’s walk down, and body language, and that staggeringly imperious air he radiated. Xyon could never have guessed the depth of Kalinda’s madness until this moment. “All that is relevant is to take this vessel immediately to Bravo station. That is where the threat presents itself.”
“Fine. If you think there’s such a threat, I can call it in.”
“And say what?” said Kalinda derisively. “That the ghost of Si Cwan has issued warnings through the body of Kalinda?”
“You see? Even you admit it’s ridiculous. So how am I supposed to believe it?”<
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“I do not care if you believe it. I simply require you to act upon it. This annoying vessel of yours,” and she glanced around in unfettered contempt, “refused to cooperate. So I have waited a very long time for you to regain consciousness—”
“Because you knocked me out!”
“—and now that you have,” said Kalinda, ignoring Xyon’s interjection, “I require you to do as I instruct.”
“How?”
“Order your vessel to—”
“No, I mean how do you know that the baby is in danger?”
“I simply do.”
“Not good enough. Not good enough by half, Kally.”
“You would not understand,” said Kalinda. “It involves an awareness of the flow of events. We may be in space, but nothing happens in a vacuum. There are some who possess this ability on a rudimentary level, including your own father.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My father's awareness of when there is danger in the air. He perceives it even when no ordinary method of detection does. Some would call it a sixth sense, a self-preservation instinct. Perhaps he possesses it because he has nearly died so many times that he has become keyed into that which I can sense routinely because I am already dead.”
“Yes, so you say.”
“Save your sarcasm, Xyon. Take us to Bravo station.”
Xyon straightened his back, folded his arms and simply glared. “Forget it. I don’t take orders on my ship. Especially from a crazy slip of a girl who ambushes me when my back is turned.”
“And you believe that was the only reason I was able to defeat you?”
“Coldcocking me with a brick is hardly defeating me.”
“Very well. I offer you a bargain. You have precisely one minute to touch my face.”
He stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“Which word did you not comprehend? I offer you a challenge. Your back is not turned; I hold no brick. You must know that Kalinda has little, if any, skill at self-defense. I challenge you to lay one finger upon my face within the count of sixty seconds. If you are able to do so, I shall remove myself from Kalinda’s form and leave you to your miserable little life. If you are unable to do so, you will immediately do as I instruct and take us to Bravo station. Are we agreed?”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Xyon, and he laughed, but it was an uncertain laugh.
“Afraid? Afraid that what you see as a mere girl can best you at a simple challenge? Or afraid that there may well exist concepts beyond your ability to comprehend?”
Xyon had had more than enough. “Lyla,” he said, and he squared his shoulders. “Inform me when one minute has passed, beginning…now.”
He came straight at Kalinda even as he said it and reached out, her face directly in front of him.
And then it wasn’t.
It took him a moment to register that she had sidestepped him and then she was behind him and delivering a swift kick to his backside. Xyon stumbled forward and banged his head against the bulkhead. He spun, momentarily confused, and he saw Kalinda’s mocking expression just a few feet away. He came at her again, his hand spearing forward, expecting her to try and dodge. She did not. Instead she brushed his hand aside with a sweep of her arm that seemed slow but was somehow much faster than he could possibly have expected. He tried again, and again she deflected it. He feinted with his left, came in fast with his right. She caught his wrist, swung it down and around, and suddenly he was facing away from her with his arm twisted behind his back.
Xyon’s father, Mackenzie Calhoun, was one of the most formidable hand-to-hand combatants in the history of his home-world of Xenex. Xyon was not on his father’s level, but he was not exactly inept. Yet that was how he was being made to feel now as Kalinda immobilized him just long enough to bring her foot up, plant it in the small of his back, and shove him forward. Xyon hit the ground, rolled, and bounded back to his feet.
“Care to give up?” said Kalinda.
With a roar of fury, Xyon barreled toward her.
Kalinda drove her foot forward and, with perfect timing, nailed Xyon in the crotch.
He went down, gasping and grasping. He lay there moaning, his eyes wide with pain, as Kalinda stepped around in front of him and looked down. “I felt I had nothing more to prove to you in terms of hand-to-hand,” she said by way of explanation, “and, frankly, you left yourself open for that.”
Lyla appeared on the other side of him and said pleasantly, “That was one minute, Xyon. Do you require me to time another minute for you?”
“Actually,” Kalinda said, since Xyon was hardly in a position to draw sufficient breath for speech, “I believe all Xyon requires you to do at this time is set us on a course for Bravo station.”
“Is that true, Xyon?”
Xyon was barely able to manage a nod.
“Very well,” she said. “Course laid in. Best possible speed?”
Xyon nodded again.
“As you wish.” She vanished again.
“By the way,” said Kalinda, “I would prefer it if, for the duration of our stay together, you addressed me as Lord Cwan.”
Xyon was still unable to gather sufficient breath to respond.
Kalinda dropped to the floor, crisscrossed her legs, and closed her eyes. Xyon stared at her. “And do not,” Kalinda said as if reading his mind, “even think about trying to touch me. If you do, I will stop going easy on you.”
Bravo Station
i.
She moves through the corridors of the station but is only aware of her own presence in a distant manner. People nod to her or greet her as she passes. She responds, acknowledging them, only because some small part of her brain informs her that that is the proper response. She may draw attention to herself if she ignores them, so she goes through the motions. But it means nothing. Only one thing means anything to her.
She has never felt this way before. In some small part of her, she knows what she is experiencing. It is a word that is not commonly spoken, a state of mind that some refuse to believe exists. She now knows herself that it does, in fact, exist. But she does not care. She welcomes it, for it is the only means by which she will be able to accomplish her aim.
She moves with a sense of purpose and destiny that she had never thought possible. There is no doubt in her mind that everything will fall into place. She cannot be stopped. She must not be stopped.
A man sees her. She does not notice him. He notices her. His eyes widen in shock, and then he turns and follows her at a safe distance, waiting to see what happens next.
ii.
“I hope these quarters will be sufficient, Lady Cwan.”
Robin Lefler looked with amused suspicion at Admiral Shelby, who was affecting a formal manner. Shelby even bowed slightly in deference. “Yeah, okay, Admiral, you really need to stop that now. ‘Lady Cwan’? Since when do you call me that?”
“Why are you still calling me ‘Admiral’?”
“Because that’s your rank.”
“And that was relevant when you were in Starfleet. You haven’t been for quite some time now, and I think that by this point ‘Elizabeth’ will do nicely.
“Very well, Elizabeth,” she said with a smile. “Yes, this room is quite sufficient.”
“I’m sorry it’s not yet rigged with a holoprojector. I have a technician coming in first thing tomorrow and he’ll outfit it so that your mother will be able to visit with you.”
“Just make sure I can turn it off if I feel like it.”
“I totally understand,” Shelby assured her.
Robin was seated, suckling her son. Shelby watched with a broad smile and Robin looked up at her curiously. “Ever given any thought to having one of your own? Mac and you must have talked about it at some point or other…”
“You know…actually…we haven’t,” said Shelby thoughtfully.
“You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not. Mac already has a grown son—”
“Who he didn’t even know existed until Xyon was already grown.”
“And an adopted son. And I just—well, I never really gave much thought to it. I figure we have time for that.”
“That’s what you always think,” Robin said with a tinge of sadness to her voice. “You think you have all the time in the world. And the next thing you know…you don’t.”
“Are we talking about me? Or you?”
Robin glanced toward her and Shelby looked immediately regretful that she had said it. Before she could apologize, Robin said, “A little of both, I guess.”
“Robin, I—”
“No, it’s okay. It was a fair question. I thought Cwan and I would be together for years and years. I was wrong. We were wrong. But I got off lucky. My lack of foresight didn’t prevent our having a child. Honestly, we weren’t even sure we could. Genetic tests were inconclusive, and there was no known case of a Thallonian breeding with a human.” She laughed bitterly. “‘Breeding with a human.’ God, that sounds awful.”
“It sounds scientific.”
“Well, that’s kind of the point, I guess. Having children isn’t about science. It isn’t about making a carefully considered decision, because frankly I think that in any given circumstance, there are always going to be more reasons not to have children than to have them. It’s not a decision you make with your mind so much as with your heart.”
“And lower down, in some instances.”
Robin laughed at that, and Shelby allowed herself a soft chuckle. “I don’t know,” Shelby said after a few more moments. “I guess I just don’t feel it in my heart, then. I don’t know that Mac feels it at all either. Plus there’s the little matter that I’m here and he’s running around on the Excalibur.”
“You wouldn’t be the first woman who raised a child with her husband not around a good deal of the time.”
“But why would it be incumbent on me to raise him or her? Why couldn’t Mac have the baby with him on the Excal?”