Star Trek - NF - 05 - Martyr

by Martyr(Lit)

  "I was staring into space?" he asked, sounding confused. He started to turn in his chair to glance out the viewing port behind his back.

  "No, I meant..." and she waved her hands in the direction of the area in front of his desk. He nodded in understanding. "All I'm saying is that something's distracting you, and it's not the most efficient way to manage the time." Then her voice softened. "It's... It's Kallinda, isn't it?"

  Slowly he nodded, and this time he genuinely did

  stare off into space, into the great void that glittered at

  him so frustratingly. "I truly do not know which is

  worse," he murmured. "To think that she is definitely

  dead and lost to me, or that she is alive somewhere out

  there, undergoing who-knows-what form of difficulty."

  "Zoran could have been lying," Lefler pointed out.

  He nodded. "That is true," he admitted. "Zoran Si

  Verdin is my oldest, most vicious and unforgiving foe.

  He would say or do anything to hurt me. It is entirely

  possible that he created the spectre of my sister's survival in order to gnaw at me. To haunt my days and evenings. And do you know what, Robin?"

  "It worked?"

  He nodded sullenly. But then he seemed to shake it off with physical effort as he said, "Dwelling on it will serve no purpose, save that which Zoran may have desired to attempt. And it is wasting your time. I have feelers out in a variety of directions, to try and bring me news of Kallinda. Those who are still loyal to me, who are still friends of the old regime, are operating to further my concerns. In the meantime, there is no need to delay you any more than necessary simply because of my inability to focus on important matters."

  She put a hand out to lay it on his forearm. She wanted to say something that would comfort him, wanted to establish some sort of "human" connection to the

  Thallonian. Her hand hovered over his forearm for the merest fraction of an instant, and she allowed it to settle as lightly as possible on the arm. She was surprised by the extreme coolness of his skin. If she were given to flights of fancy, she would have imagined that it was a reflection of the distance he forced himself to keep from the world around him. The distance that was part of the baggage he carried with him, what with being royalty (albeit fallen royalty), an ambassador, and a brother seeking the only member of his family who might still be alive.

  He stared at her coolly, appraisingly, and she waited to hear what he would say next. The acknowledgment of her effort, the realization that it was possible to allow others to be close to him. To be his friend, to be... whatever.

  "I do not like to be touched," he said, not unkindly.

  "Ah," was all Robin could think of to say as she quickly withdrew her hand.

  Suddenly it seemed al-

  most like an alien appendage, just hanging there on the end of her arm. Not quite sure what to do with it, she reached around with amazingly forced casualness and scratched the back of her neck. "That's... okay. That's fine,

  I can understand that."

  "I've made you uncomfortable."

  "No, not at all. Not at all." She cleared her throat loudly. "It was simply a... a human ritual. Don't think about it another minute. So, there's one more planet we've heard from, petitioning for the Excalibur to visit."

  "That makes, by my count, twenty-nine." Si Cwan let out a soft whistle. "They are very, very curious about us, Robin. "They want to know what the Excalibur is up to. They want to meet our captain. And of course..." He permitted a small half smile, not bothering to finish the sentence.

  "They want to see you," Lefler was kind enough to complete it for him. "Well, naturally. That goes without saying."

  "Yes, but thank you for saying it. I will present the captain with a detailed information list on the candidates, with order of suggested priority. He can, of course, deviate from that priority. But to do so would be quite foolish."

  "That likewise went without saying."

  "So which is the twenty-ninth world?"

  She checked her readout. "Zondar."

  A jolt of interest seemed to spark in Si Cwan. He had been seated, but now he came from quickly around his desk and leaned over Robin's shoulder to study her data padd. She became, for some reason, rather aware of the nearness of him, and endeavored to keep her mind firmly on her work. "Yes, Zondar. I have to admit, of everyone we've heard from thus far, they certainly seemed to be the most excited about the prospect of meeting with the captain."

  "I am amazed," admitted Si Cwan. "Why? Why should it be so surprising that they would want to see the captain?"

  "It's not that. I am amazed that they would want to see anyone." Slowly he circled the interior of his quarters, stopping so often to check, totally unconsciously, for any hint of dirt or dust. "The Zondarians are an extremely acrimonious race. They always have been. They've been in the throes of civil war for well over eight hundred years. They would fight until they were exhausted, then work out some sort of temporary peace, which would hold just long enough for all involved to catch their breaths, and then they'd"-and he made vague stabbing motions-"have at each other again. They're not unique in that they seem rather determined to obliterate themselves from the memory of Thallonian space, but they were certainly the most insistent little bastards that my people ever oversaw." "Oversaw how?" asked Lefler. She was reluctant to ask for details, for she was always concerned about some aspects of Si Cwan's past that she'd truly prefer not to hear about. But she didn't have much choice in the matter. She had to know as much as possible, and she simply had to acknowledge that, as part of a ruling family, Si Cwan may very well have been party to various acts that outsiders would consider to be barbaric or heartless, but in which Si Cwan had no voice and no choice. "Did you enslave them, or-?" "Enslave them?" Si Cwan gaped at her in clear surprise. "Lieutenant, honestly. What do you take me for?

  Slavery!" He harrumphed at the very absurdity of the notion. "No, of course not." "Well, that's a relief to hear." "No, we threatened to destroy them."

  "You-" She blinked in surprise. "You what?" "It seemed a reasonable threat," Si

  Cwan said affably. "After all, they were well on their way to

  doing it themselves. When my ancestors were spreading the influence of the empire and arrived at Zondar, they saw a world at war with itself. One group called the, oh"-and he snapped his fingers for a moment to jog his memory-"The

  Unglza. Yes, that's it. The Unglza and the Eenza. They have assorted disputes, none of which they seemed interested in settling and, most discouragingly, many that they couldn't even seem to remember the origins of. Now is that the epitome of pointlessness? I ask you.

  "In any event, we invited the Unglza and the Eenza to join the Thallonian

  Empire. They refused. So we took the next step we usually took in such cases, which was to inform them that they officially were members of the Thallonian

  Empire, subject to our rule, whether they liked it or not. Then we surrounded their world with about a half dozen of our heavy cruisers and informed them that, unless the fighting ceased immediately, we would wipe the planet clean of them. Our logic was that this solution, while violent, would satisfy everyone.

  Since they were out to destroy each other, this would save them the trouble. And we would be satisfied because we would still have conquered Zondar. Granted, no one would be alive. But their decomposing bodies would serve to fertilize the land, and if the Thallonian Empire had to wait an additional century or so in order to take possession, well, we had all the time in the galaxy. But they-as we made clear to them-did not."

  He didn't continue immediately, and Robin prompted, "What happened?"

  "They didn't believe us."

  "What did you do?"

  "Well, my great-great-great-great-grandfather gave them one more chance, and then obliterated the | eastern seaboard of one of their main continents. Fired down from orbit, of course. Five hundred

  thousand Zondarians-perh
aps more-wiped out, just like that, their shattered bodies sliding into the Great Sea. It's said there were so many bodies in the water, one could have walked from the remains of the eastern territories to the neighboring continent of Kartoof without fear of sinking. An early and rather impressive display of Thallonian might. The Zondarians quickly saw the wisdom in acceding to our gentle guidance, and put themselves under Thallonian rule."

  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "And do you think what he did was right?

  Your great-great- your ancestor. Was he right?"

  "It does not matter especially what I think. He did what he felt was right at the time. To leave them to their indulgence of slaughtering one another would likewise not have been a particularly positive endeavor, now would it?"

  "It's called non-interference. It's the most sacred law of the Federation."

  Si Cwan guffawed. "A federation has luxuries that an empire does not." But then he stopped laughing and shrugged. "Then again, my empire has fallen and your

  Federation yet stands. So who am I to judge, eh? Who am I?" He leaned on the edge of the desk. "The point is, even after that, we've always had to keep a very careful eye on the Zondarians. They would sneak skirmishes as part of their ongoing holy war with each other. They would try to deceive us at every turn. It was like trying to oversee petulant children. But they paid their taxes to us, albeit with complaining, and we had to discipline them only occasionally, so we managed. Not once, though, not ever, did they ever come to us or approach us about anything. They are very, very insular. So for them to be making overtures to the Excalibur is a most unusual gesture. The timing could not be better, either, for with the final fall of my family's influence and control over this sector of

  space, full-blown civil war could easily break out on Zondar at any time, if it hasn't already. The Excalibur is in a position to save a lot of lives, if the

  Zondarians are interested, for whatever reason, in meeting with Calhoun and getting his help or input."

  "Well, it's a good thing you feel that way," said Lefler as she glanced farther down the padd. "Because according to their message, they're already in the process of putting together volunteers for a 'pilgrimage' to seek us out. They may be knocking on our back door just about any time."

  "If that is the case, then I suggest with all due

  sincerity that you be certain and let them in. I'll have

  that formal report together quite quickly. I don't wish

  to take up any more of your valuable time, Robin."

  "Oh, not at all," she said quickly, rising from her

  seat while making a few last minute notations on her

  padd. "Not at all. It was... it was very educational."

  "For both of us," said Si Cwan. "Robin, tell me,

  why did you really take on the assignment of being my

  liaison?"

  She stared at him with a forcefully neutral expression. Stared at the corded muscles on his dusky red forearms, the broadness of his chest, the piercing eyes, the towering presence and charisma that just seemed to radiate from him.

  "Aggressively seeking out new duties," she told him, "is a good way to show one's CO that one is a determined, take-charge officer who should be considered for further promotion through the ranks of Starfleet. That's all. Why else?"

  He nodded, slowly and thoughtfully. "I had supposed it was something along those lines. Well, thank you for your time, Lieuteuant."

  "Not a problem at all," and she exited rather more quickly than she'd intended to. She headed down the corridor and greeted Com-

  mander Shelby. The first officer was heading in the other direction with what appeared to be a great deal on her mind, considering that she didn't even acknowledge Lefler's salutation. Robin Lefler shrugged and continued on her way back to the bridge.

  Shelby, meantime, wasn't entirely certain where she was going until her feet, apparently of their own accord, guided her into sickbay. It was only then, as she stood there while various medics walked past her, glancing in her direction before going about their

  business, that she realized her body had already made

  the decision on behalf of her mind.

  She glanced across the sickbay and saw Dr. Selar in her office, briskly going through assorted reports. She folded her arms since she didn't know what to do with them, and then let them dangle at her sides as she took a deep breath and then strode with authority across sickbay. For some reason that she couldn't quite put her finger on, she felt as if one leg was suddenly a bit shorter than the other. Since no one else seemed to be taking notice, she had to assume that it was her imagination.

  She stood in the doorway of Selar's office, and at first Selar seemed to take no notice of her. Finally, however, without glancing up, Selar said, "Yes,

  Commander?"

  "How'd you know it was me?" she asked.

  "My hearing is sharper than the human norm, Commander, and you tend to tap your foot if you are impatient."

  "I do?" Shelby was intrigued as she sat in a chair opposite Selar.

  "Yes. Quite rapidly, I might add. Softly enough so that it does not disturb anyone, but it is detectable to me." She turned away from work and focused her attention on Shelby. "How may I be of service?"

  "Selar-do you mind if I call you Selar?"

  "If you are asking my preference, I prefer 'Doctor.'" "Oh. Say, what do you call the person who graduates last in their medical class?"

  Selar stared at her for a long moment. "Fascinating," she said at last. "1 can easily believe that you and the captain have a history with one another. He reacted in exactly the same manner when I made the same request of him, with precisely the same joke. He was also under the impression that the answer-'Doctor'-was somehow funny. I had once thought that humans were difficult to understand, but I have become willing to widen the parameters to non-Vulcans as a whole."

  "It's just that, well, I wanted to discuss something personal, and addressing you with a title seems to keep a distance between us."

  "I find that preferable." When she saw Shelby's look, she added, "It is not intended as a personal slight, Commander. I assure you. I prefer distance when it comes to dealing with others. It is one of the qualities that makes me a good doctor: the ability to keep a professional distance between myself and my patients. A doctor must never become emotionally involved with her charges."

  "Granted. But a doctor should at least show some empathy, don't you think?"

  "Germs do not care about empathy, Commander. Nor do phaser wounds, multiple lacerations, cancer cells, stopped hearts, collapsed lungs, or any of the many calamities that can befall the human body." Selar sat perfectly motionless in her chair. She might have been carved from marble, and Shelby was having a difficult time picturing this woman in the throes of any mating urge. Selar raised one inquisitive eyebrow and asked, "Did you come here to discuss my medical techniques?"

  "No," Shelby said evenly. "I came to discuss your request of the captain."

  "Yes, that would be the logical reason for your visit. Since discussion of my personal life is doubtlessly moving apace throughout the entire vessel thanks to a faulty door, there is no reason that you and I should not converse about it as well."

  "Look, Sel-Doctor... I could come to you as a first officer. I'd like to come to you as a friend."

  "Friend?" She tilted her head slightly. "I was unaware that you consider us friends."

  "I would like to. You must have friends. On Vulcan, at the very least."

  "There are... others," said Selar after a moment's thought. "Other Vulcans with whom I associate. We have discussions of philosophy, and we devise puzzles of logic in order to hone our skills and direct our thought in proper channels.

  I do not know, however, that the human word 'friend' would apply. There is a

  Vulcan term-Ku'net Kal'fiore-which roughly translates as, 'One For Whom You Have

  Use.'"

  Shelby tried not to make a face, and was only pa
rtly successful. "No offense intended, Doctor, but that doesn't sound very pleasant."

  "I said the translation was rough," Selar said defensively. "On Vulcan, that is actually a term of endearment."

  "All right, fine. How I want to talk with you is somewhere between a first officer and a friend. Can we agree on that?"

  Selar let out a small sigh. "With all respect, Commander, if it will get you out of my office sooner so that I may return to my work, I will agree to virtually anything at this point."

  "All right, fine. Here's the thing: You've put the captain in a very awkward position."

  "Not yet," replied Selar matter-of-factly. "I do not envision utilizing anything beyond your equivalent of the standard missionary-"