Star Trek: New Frontier - 017 - Treason

by Peter David

  Robin felt as if she were sinking into a black hole while Calhoun tossed her a rope covered with grease. Then, to her surprise as much as everyone else’s, she laughed. “Sure,” she said. “Sure, why not? What have I got to lose?”

  “Robin,” Shelby said gently, “perhaps this isn’t the best time to—”

  “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Admiral,” said Robin. “Tell me, what have I got to lose?”

  Shelby tried to come up with a response but nothing presented itself.

  With that silent affirmation, Robin turned to Calhoun and said, “I’m in, on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “I’m back at ops. I’m not going to sit around being a passenger. I have to be part of something, think about something other than Cwansi or I’m going to wind up crazier than…than…”

  “Me?” suggested Kalinda.

  “I wasn’t going to say it, but…yes. Look…Kally…” Robin tried to keep her gaze fixed on Kally, but it was impossible because those eyes, his eyes, were looking back at her. She knew that if she kept staring too long she’d end up pulled into her insanity. “I know what you want me to say, what you want me to believe. But I’m coping with a lot right now, and that’s just too much for me to handle. Understood?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “I’ll have a uniform brought to the guest quarters where you’ll be staying,” said Calhoun. “Welcome aboard.”

  Within moments, the conference lounge was empty save for Calhoun and Shelby. “Admiral,” he said in a formal tone, “I would like to make one further request of you.”

  “Soleta.”

  He nodded. “You’re ahead of me.”

  “No one on this ship knows the Spectre better than she does, not to mention the state of mind of Vulcans,” said Shelby. “She would be a valuable asset to you. She’d certainly do you far more good than she would me by sitting in the brig. I’ll attend to the transfer immediately. A pleasure doing business with you, Admiral.”

  “And you, Captain. I just wish that…”

  “We could have made more pleasure during our business?”

  “Now you,” she said with a sad smile, “are ahead of me.”

  iii.

  Xyon walked across the hangar deck toward his vessel, which was parked, prepped, and ready for him. He felt like he was more than ready for it. This whole thing had been one big, ghastly mistake.

  “Xyon…”

  He turned and saw Kalinda running across the deck toward him. She wasn’t running the way she normally did. Instead she ran with precision, arms scissoring, legs moving smoothly, rather than the almost balletic movements she utilized. She stopped a short distance from him, looking a little out of breath. “I…”

  “What?”

  “I wish to apologize for the manner in which I dispatched you on your ship. I should have at least given you the opportunity to make an informed decision. When you’re dead, you tend to become disconnected from reality.”

  “Maybe I’m dead, then, because I’ve felt that way for years.”

  “I want you to understand…I’ve never liked you.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out the time you subjected me to an extended torture session. Right between the moment when I lost all feeling in both my arms and the moment I passed out from blood loss, I thought, You know what? This man really doesn’t like me.”

  “You said you.”

  “What?”

  “You said you, acknowledging, however unwillingly, that I am who I say I am.”

  “I’m just tired of arguing. I’m tired of a lot of things and, frankly, Thallonians are at the top of the list.” He turned to head into the Lyla.

  “She does love you, you know. She never stopped,” said Kalinda. “Her heart and mind are there for me to see. When this is over—”

  “It’s never going to be over. Because I have the feeling you’re always going to be lurking in the background, in her conscious or unconscious mind. And I’m not really interested in having a three-way relationship, especially with someone who never liked me.” He bowed mockingly and said, “Farewell, Kalinda, Cwan, or whoever you are. I wish you the best of luck. Do let me know how it all turns out.”

  The hatch of his ship opened and he clambered into it without a backward glance. Minutes later, the Lyla was heading into deep space.

  “Xyon?” Lyla said, appearing next to him. “Is there anything I can do? Would you like me to make myself appear as Kalinda—?” Her image shifted and she was a perfect replica of Kalinda.

  “Actually,” he said, “I want you to delete that image from your memory. Do it now.”

  “Xyon, are your eyes wet—?”

  “Do it now!”

  As he drew an arm across his eyes, Lyla did as she was instructed, assuming her normal appearance as an attractive blonde. “How is this, Xyon?”

  “Fine, Lyla. Just fine. Let’s get out of here. We still have a cargo to deliver to a potentially cranky customer.”

  The Lyla angled off and away, yet Xyon kept the monitor screen view on the Excalibur the entire time, until the great starship was long out of range.

  iv.

  Calhoun stared at the four walls of the conference lounge long after Shelby had left, and finally said, “You can come out now. I know that you’re listening. You’re always listening.”

  Morgan appeared, facing the captain. There was a doubtful look on her face. “Would you like to know why I didn’t make my presence known sooner?”

  “Not especially.”

  “I’ll tell you anyway.”

  “I suspected you would.”

  “It’s because I didn’t feel it would be my place to contradict the captain openly in front of his superior officer and son.”

  “Plus you didn’t want to risk having your daughter objecting if you attempted to do so.”

  She made a face. “That barely factored into my consideration.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Captain, these claims that Kalinda is making—”

  He put up a hand. “I very much suspect there’s nothing you could possibly say that hasn’t already occurred to me, Morgan. Nevertheless, I’ve decided this is the best course of action, and I intend to pursue it no matter how unlikely the source. I cannot justify ignoring a possible means of tracking down Robin’s child, even if it appears that our guide is a young woman who has lost her mind.”

  “And then there’s the matter of putting Robin in charge of ops.”

  “It’s her old station. She was there before you were. I would hardly think that you, of all people, would present a strenuous objection. You’re still the heart and soul of this vessel, Morgan. It’s not as if you won’t have anything else to do with your time.”

  “That’s good to hear you say, Captain. I had thought—”

  “You thought what?”

  “I had thought that after our previous contretemps, you were anxious to replace me on ops at the first opportunity.”

  “Well, you are wrong.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  She stayed quiet.

  “Morgan,” he said slowly, “are you monitoring my heart rate to see if there’s any variation?”

  “Yes,” she said with no hint of shame.

  “Then you know that I am being honest. Just as I’m being honest now in saying I consider such actions to be intrusive, and I am instructing you to refrain from doing so in the future.”

  “Of course, Captain. It will not happen again.”

  “Good. As for Robin, let’s face it: I think nothing short of Kebron blocking the door would prevent her from staying on the bridge to find out what’s going on. We might as well put her to use in a way that will benefit both her and us.”

  “Yes, of course. Your point is well taken, Captain.”

  “I’m pleased that you agree. Now I have a question for you, Morgan. Why haven’t you been able to track the Spectre? You’ve told me that you’re able to trans
fer your personality, at any point, into any vessel where you’ve been before. You’ve been in the Spectre. Why can’t you just place yourself into her computer core and take charge of her?”

  “Because when I had my accident some months ago and crashed, it wiped my presence out of every place I’d previously been. I can still interface at will with any Starfleet computers, but I need to rebuild from scratch everywhere else. If you manage to transmit a message to the Spectre, I can project myself along the subspace band and get in that way. Until such time, I have no more means of finding the Spectre than you do.”

  “All right. With any luck, we’ll find a way to do just that. You’ll get into the Spectre, and we can shut this entire thing down.”

  “Anything I can do to help, Captain. It is, after all, my grandson we’re talking about.”

  “I know. Now why don’t you spend some time with your daughter?”

  “I am, Captain, even as we speak. I am capable of doing more than one thing at a time. I know a good deal more than I’m letting on at any given moment.”

  “Yes, of course. Carry on, then.”

  Morgan vanished, leaving Calhoun with a smile that was rapidly fading. The fact was that he knew a good deal more than he was letting on as well. For instance, he knew that Xenexians were even more capable of controlling their bodily functions than Vulcans. It aided a warrior race to be able to keep their hearts beating at slow, steady paces even in the midst of combat, since it lessened the chances of getting overly aggressive and sloppy.

  The upshot was that Mackenzie Calhoun was perfectly capable of brazenly lying without betraying the slightest spike in his heartbeat or pulse rate.

  It was a bit of knowledge that he had every intention of keeping to himself.

  The Spectre

  i.

  She gazes at the sleeping child. It has taken a while to settle him down, for he has been desirous of his mother’s breast and naturally she is unable to provide him that. She is prepared now, however, having used the replicators on the Excalibur to synthesize liquid nourishment for the child before departing. She has enough to supply them for the journey, and she took Robin’s supply of diapers with her when she left Bravo station. She has accounted for everything.

  Except…

  Except…What happens when they arrive at their destination? The unknown beings to whom she is bringing the baby, the ones who offered to help Selar cure her own child. Have they made preparations? Certainly they must have. They must have food ready for him. Except…where would they have obtained it? Synthesized it, perhaps, as she did. But do they have the capability to do so? They must. They must if they are advanced enough to help her cure Xy. But…

  But what if they don’t?

  Surely, that is not her problem. Her mission, her purpose, her job is to bring the baby. To exchange it for a cure.

  Except…

  Except there will be no one to care for it. Not the way a mother is supposed to. Not the way she did for Xy during the all-too-brief period that he was an infant. He will be in the hands of beings who are not human. They will smell and sound different from his mother. Perhaps they will not even be able to touch him. Perhaps he will never know the loving touch of a mother again.

  Perhaps…

  Except…

  Why is she dwelling on these things? She cannot fathom it. None of it mattered before. All that mattered was Xy, her son, not Robin Lefler’s…

  Yet how is that remotely fair, remotely just? How can she bemoan the inequity of a world where her child is saddled with a condition that expedites the aging process, robs him of his youth, speeds him toward the grave, while she acts in just such an unfair manner? Is it that perhaps the world itself is not unjust, but rather the people in it?

  Everything had been so clear to her before, so pure, so direct. There had been no doubt in her mind of any of it, and now doubt was creeping in, long shadowy fingers caressing her mind and stirring her uncertainty. It is as if she were beginning to shake off the remnants of a dream. Or a state of mind. Or…

  Shal’tiar.

  The word echoes in her head and she recoils from it. The cursed word, the ultimate betrayal of all she has learned and studied and believed in. If to be a Vulcan is to embrace a state of mind, then to embrace Shal’tiar is to commit a crime against that state. A crime. A betrayal. Treason. Nothing less than treason against all governing thought of Vulcan civilization.

  She cannot have done that. She cannot grasp the thought; she rejects it, or at least endeavors to. But try as she might, she cannot. It sticks to her like barnacles to a sea vessel.

  Yet how else to explain where she is, what she is doing? She looks at the baby again, and his eyes are open to slits. He sees her. He smiles. Impossible. Infants cannot smile in response to an individual. Yet he seems to be doing just that, and he gazes upon her in semi-slumber with trust so achingly pure that it’s like a spear to the heart, a spear of flame to a heart of ice.

  His eyes close. He is peaceful.

  The ice melts.

  ii.

  On the bridge, Lucius checked the heading for what seemed like the hundredth time. Once he was satisfied that the vessel was on course and remained locked in, he ran a long-range sensor scan to see if anyone else was near them or in their path. He picked up a small freighter, a passenger line, and a science exploration vessel. Hard to believe just how crowded space was getting, especially when one considered its infinite size. None of those ships presented a problem, though, and he was satisfied that the Spectre would remain undetected.

  He nodded in satisfaction, certain that he had taken into account all possible aspects of the endeavor.

  He knew he was staking everything on what was little more than gut instinct. But that instinct had typically served him well before. Besides, he had to admit he had been getting bored with the status quo. Lucius was someone who was always seeking to advance himself in some manner, and the existence he was leading with Soleta was simply a dead end. As matters stood, he would never be anything more than a freelance spy, doing someone else’s dirty work. It was a waste of resources.

  Yes, the circumstances here were questionable, but certainly the possible outcome was worth the risk.

  And he found that, when he tried to picture Soleta, he was already finding it hard to remember her face or the sound of her voice.

  Small loss.

  The door to the bridge hissed when it opened and Selar entered. He was pleased to see she did not have the baby in her arms. Lucius wasn’t exactly fond of children. He was willing to accept that the infant was instrumental in his mission, but it didn’t mean he had to spend a lot of time near the brat.

  “We need to go back,” she said without preamble.

  “Do we?”

  “Yes. You see—”

  He had no need to hear another word. His disruptor was already in his hand, and in one smooth motion he targeted Selar and fired. He derived a certain amount of smug satisfaction from the startled look on her face.

  The blast lifted Selar off her feet and slammed her into the wall. She was unconscious even before she slid to the ground, her head lolling to one side. He went to her and checked her pulse, which was slow but steady.

  Lucius picked Selar up, slung her over his shoulder, and brought her down to the brig. The unconscious Hermat was already there because Lucius had no desire to leave hir unattended in sickbay. At least in the brig, a force field could keep hir out of trouble. For convenience, Lucius went to the quarters he’d given Selar, picked up the baby, and brought it to Selar. He held it delicately, uncertainly, as if he were carrying something potentially explosive. Lying the child next to Selar, he backed up, never taking his eyes or his weapon away from her.

  It would have been easier to kill the woman and be done with it. But he could not be sure that he wouldn’t require a Vulcan to regain control of the Spectre should there be some sort of problem with the ship’s computer. Damn Soleta for rigging the controls to respond only to someone o
f, or with, Vulcan DNA. It was a tragic sign of the times that there was so little trust in the universe.

  For the time being, Selar would live. If nothing else, it meant he would have someone around to take care of the infant, which was not a duty Lucius craved. He would just as soon have thrown the brat out the airlock, but obviously the child was of interest to the species who had contacted him. So he didn’t really have any choice in the matter.

  There was a shackle against the wall with a length of titanium chain extending from it. Old-fashioned to be sure, but sometimes the old ways were the best. To play it safe, Lucius attached the shackle to Selar’s ankle. This way if he had to enter the brig for some reason, she would remain on a very short leash, so to speak. He placed the infant’s nourishment closer to her so she would be able to attend to him as needed.

  “Do not even think about causing trouble,” he said to the two unconscious adults and the sleeping baby, not really expecting anyone to answer. “You do not want to cause me any aggravation, because I assure you that it will pale in comparison with the aggravation I cause you.” With that admonishment he activated the force field, turned, and walked away, leaving them to their slumber.

  He had no idea why Selar had abruptly changed her mind. Fortunately, he didn’t care all that much. The whys and wherefores were incidental and of no consequence.

  Lucius had greater things to worry about.

  Starship Excalibur

  Robin Lefler had been amazed by how easily she had slid back into her old duties.

  Perhaps they had been cued by Calhoun; perhaps not. Ultimately the bridge crew had acted as if it were not at all unusual to see Robin back at her old ops post. At most there had been slight nods, gentle greetings, and that was all. No one addressed her by rank since technically she had resigned her commission and thus had none. The fact that a non-Starfleet officer was stationed at ops didn’t faze anyone. Certainly the crew of the Excalibur had experienced more unusual circumstances.