by Peter David
i.
Kat Mueller was mildly surprised to see a change of expression on the fake Calhoun’s face. Until this point, he had simply had that superior, smug look to him. Now, though, he appeared to be listening to something, looking off into the distance and with his head tilted slightly.
“Problem?” she said sarcastically, as if she actually cared about whatever difficulties he might have.
The Calhoun imposter appeared to plaster a smile back onto his face as he said, “As a matter of fact, it would seem so. The Brethren are becoming impatient.”
“The Brethren? I thought they were…”
“In the interest of clarity, my people are the D’myurj. We simply refer to our armored associates as the Brethren. They have another name, I am quite sure, but they have never seemed inclined to share it with us. And from what I can discern, the Brethren are not particularly happy at the moment.”
“Why would that be?”
“Well, because several of them have perished thus far,” he said as if it should have been self-evident. “They are not accustomed to dying.”
“I see. How tragic for them.”
“You have a streak of cruelty to you, Captain; that is most unseemly,” said the fake Calhoun in a scolding tone. But there was something else that she perceived, an uncertainty…perhaps even…fear? Yes. Yes, there was fear within him. “I think you fail to comprehend how serious this can become.”
“My crew is under attack and they are fighting for their lives. I fail to see how the stakes can escalate.”
“There is much that you do not understand.”
“Since æ0%"you’ve been explaining nothing, then that’s something of a hazard.”
“Order your people to stand down, Captain. You are running out of time.”
“And you are running out of control,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes. The Brethren aren’t as much on your side as you wish to believe.”
“That is a ridiculous notion,” he said. “They are merely the brawn. We are the brain. They were helpless, hopeless before we found them and raised them up into the fighting machines they have become. They know that.”
“What they know is that my people are showing that they’re not invincible. I think you convinced them that we would be easily cowed, and that their invincibility would remain intact. For someone who claims to be ‘the brain,’ you must be coming across as extremely stupid right about now.”
“You are speaking about things of which you know nothing,” he said dismissively.
“Am I? I’m starting to think that’s not the case, especially considering the way the Brethren are looking at you right now.”
It was, of course, impossible for anyone to discern how the Brethren were, in fact, looking at the D’myurj, but looking in that direction they most definitely were.
The fake Calhoun’s face remained inscrutable. “It is the Brethren’s desire,” he said, “that you order your crew to surrender immediately.”
“We’ve been over this.”
“Yes, we have. However, what we have not been over is what will happen when the Brethren kill your bridge crew, right in front of your eyes, one by one, unless you order a total surrender.”
No one moved. No one reacted. Mueller’s gaze never wavered from the fake Calhoun’s. “That would be ill-advised,” she said.
“I agree. The D’myurj cherish free will, and I am loath to compel you to do something that is so clearly anathema to you. But the Brethren’s feelings on the matter must be honored as well.”
“The Brethren, whom you claim are totally obedient to you.”
“They honor our wishes, yes, but that is—”
“Then tell them that you refuse to allow my people to be executed.”
“I do not have to prove anything to you.”
“No, you don’t. But perhaps it might be wise for you to prove something to yourself.”
“Choose someone,” said the fake Calhoun.
“No.”
“Choose the first among your bridge crew to die or a choice shall be made for you.”
“Tell them you won’t do it!” said Mueller. “Tell them you refuse to do as they order you to!”
“They are not ordering me! They do not issue orders.”
“Then tell them!”
“Choose someone to die!” said the fake Calhoun again, his voice rising.
“Aren’t you the superior race!” said Mueller, her clipped voice dripping with contempt. “Honoring our right to free will, except when you find it inconvenient! Allied with your so-called Brethren, except it seems to me that they’re the ones calling the shots! If we die, at least we die knowing who and what we are. We don’t disguise ourselves as others, and we don’t compromise our principles!”
“Your history is filled with nothing but compromised principles and people pretending to be something they’re not.”
“Then set an example by showing us you really are superior. Rein in your so-called Brethren, if you can.”
“For the last time, choose someone to die!”
“You choose!”
“Fine! Him!” He pointed at Hash.
One of the Brethren advanced upon Hash. Hash backed up, maneuvering so that the corpse of Mick Gold was between him and the oncoming armored figure. Seemingly oblivious of Gold’s presence, the Brethren warrior’s foot slammed up against the corpse and the Brethren almost tripped over it. It stumbled and righted himself just before falling, a lapse that Mueller noticed and filed away for later—
Later…as if there’s going to be any later…
The Brethren raised its armored hand, aiming its palm weapon at Hash. Hash, his back against the far bulkhead, had nowhere to run.
Mueller lunged toward the Brethren, trying to grab at its arm, and another of the Brethren came forward and grabbed her, yanking her back. She screamed Hash’s name, certain that she was about to witness his death, knowing she could have stopped it, telling herself that, no, she could have only stalled it for a short time, that it was hopeless, that she was hopeless…
“Stop! It is my desire that you stop!”
It had been the D’myurj who had spoken. The Brethren turned to face him, lowering his arm as he did so.
The fake Calhoun looked at her with calm regard, his hands folded in front of him in a relaxed manner. “You see?” he said. “The Brethren respect me, and attend to my—”
The armored warrior raised its arm again, except this time the target was fixed upon the D’myurj.
Genuine surprise appeared on the fake Calhoun’s face, and then before he could say anything, an energy bolt erupted from the Brethren’s hand. It lanced through the D’myurj, who threw his arms wide and cried out something incomprehensible. With a shriek he vanished from existence.
“Yeah, that’s not good,” muttered Hash.
The three Brethren brought up their hands, palms out, pointed straight at Mueller and the crew. And for the first time, one of them spoke.
Its voice was male—astoundingly soft, even gentle, a stark contrast to its appearance.
“Surrender,” it said. “You have no more options.”
Mueller flipped an obscene gesture at them.
Their weapons began to charge, and Mueller knew without question that this was it.
And suddenly there was the crackle of transporter beams and, once again, three Brethren vanished in a haze of molecules.
The bridge crew looked at one another in confusion, and then all eyes turned to Hash. But he was exactly where he’d been before, and he shrugged.
“Wasn’t me,” he said.
Then the transporter beams hummed yet again, and Mackenzie Calhoun appeared, along with several Excalibur security guards. Mueller could scarcely believe it, and then she saw the mighty starship appearing on the main viewscreen, dropping into orbit around the planet below.
Oh, thank God, you wonderful man.
“You took your own sweet time getting here,” she said sharply.
“I had a feeling you’d say that.” He looked around. “Our sensors detected unknown beings on the bridge and energy bursts being discharged around the ship. We guessed invasion.”
“You guessed correctly. They’re all through the ship, and their armor’s invulnerable to almost anything we can throw at it.”
“We have a few things we can throw that they might not have expected,” said Calhoun.
ii.
Down the third-level corridor stampeded Zak Kebron.
Brethren warriors turned and fired at him. Kebron staggered under the assault, but the blasts were unable to penetrate the incredible thickness of his Brikar hide. They did, however, hurt like hell, a fact that Kebron acknowledged with a furious roar. They hurt, they slowed him, but they did not stop him, and then he was upon the Brethren. He picked up one in either hand and simply started slamming them together repeatedly. Their armor made deafening clanging sounds with every impact, and the Brethren waved their arms about in frustration, unable to prevent themselves from the humiliating beating they were receiving at Kebron’s huge hands.
“And there’s a hundred more like me right behind me!” Kebron said in his rumbling voice. A blatant lie, of course, but he was reasonably sure that the Brethren would be unaware of that.
Suddenly the two armored figures he was holding in his hands vanished. A third warrior backed up and disappeared as well, popping out of existence. Kebron was confused. Perhaps it had been some manner of transporter in action, but he had never seen the like. No energy buildup, no nothing. Just there one moment, gone the next.
“All right,” he said. “That was unexpected.”
iii.
Like a bad dream passing out of consciousness with the advent of the morning sun, the Brethren vanished from the decks of the Trident.
At first crew members were hesitant to come out of hiding, suspecting it was some sort of trick. Even Mueller’s preliminary announcement that all was clear didn’t overcome the reluctance of a number of the crew to make themselves potential targets. Mueller’s follow-up announcement of, “Get back to your posts!” was, however, enough to get the job done.
On the bridge, Mueller turned to Calhoun and said, “That was easier than I possibly could have hoped.”
“It’s been my experience that when things get easier, it’s typically right before things get monumentally difficult.”
“True enough,” she admitted.
A medical team from the Excalibur had beamed over and was in the midst of doing triage, necessary since most of the medtechs on the ship had been killed by the invaders. Arex and M’Ress had already been beamed over to the Excalibur for immediate treatment, and Mick Gold’s body had been removed as well.
Mueller had brought Calhoun up to speed on as much as she knew about their attackers. She wished there had been more information that she could have provided him. He had not heard of either the D’myurj nor was he experienced with the Brethren that had served as their shock troops.
“Why would they just back off from a fight so quickly?” said Calhoun.
“That,” said Mueller, “I think I can answer. It would never occur to you, Mac, because you never met a fight that you weren’t prepared to see though. Some individuals, though, are quick to back off if they think that the people they’re attacking can actually hurt them.”
“Or,” said Hash, “if they figure that it just ain’t worth their time to keep fightin’.” As he spoke, though, he wasn’t looking at either Calhoun or Mueller, but instead at the vacant navigation chair. As soon as matters were stabilized, a new conn officer would be assigned. In the meantime, the ship’s computer was keeping the vessel on a geosynchronous orbit with AF1963.
“So we weren’t worth disposing of,” said Calhoun. “I’m not entirely sure whether to be relieved or offended.”
“At least we can hope that they won’t use this opportunity to beam attackers onto the Excalibur as well. The question is, now what? We’re here at AF1963, but there’s still no sign of the Spectre.” She saw a shift in Calhoun’s expression. “What? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that perhaps there’s another reason we haven’t considered that the Brethren broke off the attack,” said Calhoun. “That reason being that it served its purpose.”
“Served its…?” Her voice trailed off, and then her eyes widened as she realized what he was getting at. “Scheisse. A distraction.”
“Exactly,” he said. “They could have done anything while you were fighting for your lives. Flown in the Spectre. Used one of those ultrapowerful transporter beams they apparently own to bring Selar, Lucius, and the baby to them over a vast distance, undetected by your ship. Grozit, Kat, a Borg cube could have parked itself on the far side of the planet and you wouldn’t have noticed it rolling in because you were all on the defensive.”
“And now?”
“Now,” said Calhoun with mounting concern, “the Spectre could be anywhere. Down on the planet’s surface, hidden away. Blasted into a million pieces. We have only one option left. Sensor sweeps of the entire surface of the planet. See if we pick up any readings from Selar, Lucius, or the baby.”
“That’s going to take a long time.”
“True. We can, however, shorten it somewhat. I’ll take the northern hemisphere, and you take the southern hemisphere.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Mueller. “Oh…and Captain…”
“Yes, Captain?”
“Thank you for saving our lives.”
He smiled and said something that a Federation ground pounder he’d once met had said in such circumstances: “All part of the service.”
AF1963
Selar had the oddest feeling of déjà vu as she came to only to discover herself in the same small hut she had been in earlier, the one from which she had hoped to escape. Here she was, right back where she had begun.
Rulan was seated a few feet away, hir legs drawn up, hir head resting on hir knees. S/he appeared to be dozing lightly, but when Selar awakened, s/he instantly came awake as well. “Are you all right?” s/he said.
She flexed her fingers, stretched her toes within her boots. She was pleasantly surprised to feel all of them, which was fortunate. There was something to be said for Vulcan durability, even under environmental circumstances that were markedly dissimilar from the arid world in which she was born. “I appear to be whole.” Then she turned her attention to hir. “And you?”
“I’ll live.”
“That was most foolish of you, coming after me the way you did.”
S/he shrugged. “I tried to tell myself to stay put. Finally I decided that it wasn’t an option, so I went after you. Who was that who was talking to you?”
“He was one of the beings who encouraged me to—”
“Betray everyone and everything you know?”
“Yes,” she said flatly.
“He looked extremely strange, if you ask me.”
She fired him a faintly annoyed look. “That was not his normal appearance. He assumed the image of my son.”
“Oh,” said Rulan, faintly chagrined. “Well, by ‘strange,’ I mean that it seemed strange to see him here under such circumstances.”
“Of course that is what you meant,” said Selar.
“So now what? Are you going to go out into the cold again and probably die unless I come after you?”
“I did not require your intervention,” she said.
“Okay, then, just be aware that if you plan to go out there again, then we’re both likely going to die, because I can’t say for sure we’re going to make it back this time. So there are two lives you have to factor into your calculations.”
“I am not responsible for you if you choose to intrude in my affairs.”
“To intrude?” S/he was incredulous, and stabbed a finger at her for emphasis. “You’re the one who pulled me into your affairs! From what you said, I was safe and sound on a space station! I’m here because you dragged me here, so I do
n’t think you get to choose what I decide to concern myself about! You understand?”
Selar knew that s/he was right. She had no real response to it, and so instead she simply looked down and contritely said, “Yes. I understand.”
Something about her tone prompted Rulan to back off. “Look…I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I am not upset,” she lied. “I am simply acknowledging the truth of your words. I will…” She hesitated. “I will do as you request. I will stay here for as long as is required. I will stay here until I die of thirst or starvation, if that is your wish. I have…I have no desire to cause any more difficulties for anyone else. I—” She couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she simply stopped talking and stared straight ahead.
Rulan approached her uncertainly. “Look…maybe we…”
The door flew open suddenly and the alien who had assumed the shape of her son—the being who had referred to himself as a D’myurj—was standing there with a look of consternation on his face.
“You have to go,” he said urgently. “Both of you—and me. We have to go now.”
“Go? Go where?” said Rulan.
“Away from here.”
Rulan and Selar exchanged looks. “You cannot be serious,” said Selar after a moment.
“I am completely serious.” He entered the room, then braced his back against the door and pushed it shut. The moment it was securely shut he advanced upon them. “You have to come with me, immediately.”
“Why?”
“The Brethren are proving…” He seemed to be struggling to find the right word. “…uncooperative. This has never happened before, not in all the time that we have worked together.”
“The Brethren? Who are the Brethren?” said Rulan.
But Selar’s mind was racing. “The armored beings? Is that what you call them?” When he nodded in response, she said, “It would appear, then, that your goals and theirs are not exactly in accord.”
“This is a serious, even dangerous situation,” said “Xy.” “How can you sound so dispassionate about it?”
“A lifetime of practice.”