"Yes. Mama." Supporting the paddling Xyon with one hand, s/he brought one of the child's hands up to his pointed little ears. S/he used that hand to caress the tip of the ear and said again, "Mama." Then s/he brought Xyon's hand over to hir own ear. "Daddy." Although, truthfully, with Hermat physiology being what it was, s/he could just as easily describe hirself as "Mama" as well. But something in hir made hir want to reserve that title for Selar... even though it was more than likely that Xyon would not see her for years, if ever.
S/he wondered what Selar was going to do next with her life. Would she return to
Starfleet? Stay on Vulcan? Choose a third option? For Burgoyne, it was pretty straightforward: S/he had every intention of signing back on with the first vessel that allowed families. S/he certainly wasn't going to leave Xyon behind in the care of someone else. S/he was the child's parent, and that was all there was to it.
Xyon looked as if he was starting to shiver slightly. Although the water was relatively warm, perhaps he was getting a bit of a chill at that. Burgoyne drew him closer to hirself and moved toward the shore with, strong, powerful thrusts of hir legs. Once there, s/he wrapped hir son in a towel until the shivering stopped. Xyon cooed once more. "Daddy," Burgoyne encouraged, but still Xyon was mute on the subject, although he did snuggle closer to enjoy the warmth of hir body.
Burgoyne headed toward the house, lost in thought. S/he found hirself wondering what hir social life was going to be like on a new vessel. Before, s/he had been totally left to hir own devices, not having any obligations or worries. S/he could do what s/he wanted, when s/he wanted. What was going to happen now, though? There would be central child-care facilities available during hir shift, certainly. But when s/he was off shift, how could s/he turn around and head out on dates or assignations? Certainly that would be when Xyon craved hir time.
S/he couldn't just ignore him while s/he satisfied hir social impulses. The odds were that s/he was going to be staying in a lot more. S/he felt just the least twinge of regret, because the life ahead of hir was going to be very, very different. But then again, why shouldn't it be? S/he had, after all, fought with every fiber of hir being to be with Xyon. Now that s/he was, s/he'd be damned if s/he had the slightest bit of regret over it. No social life? No lovers? Fine. A very small price to pay for what would be a very joyous pe- riod of hir life. S/he would spend long and quiet evenings hearing about every aspect of what Xyon's day was like, and telling him in turn what s/he had experienced. Naturally, s/he thought with amusement, Xyon would be speaking by that point That was a given.
"Maaaamaaa..."
Burgoyne, hir nude body still cooling in the warm air, came to a dead halt and looked with delight at hir son's face. "Did you say 'Mama'?"
"Maaamaaa..." There was absolutely no question about it. He was pulling at his ear, his eyes wide, and he was squirming in hir arms. His nostrils were flaring as if...
Burgoyne tilted hir head back, suddenly trying to pull in the air hirself. S/he would have noticed it earlier, except that s/he had been thinking about so many other things. But yes, there it was... that scent. A scent that Xyon, even though he'd been parted from her all this time, had detected immediately. He was practically bouncing with excitement, so much so mat Burgoyne almost lost hir grip on him. For a moment, Burgoyne considered putting him down and letting him run on his own, but then s/he realized that s/he could get the two of them there far more quickly.
Immediately s/he bolted in the direction of the house. For a heartbeat, s/he thought that there was a chance s/he had been mistaken somehow, but no. No, impossible. The scent was there, clear and strong and pure. It was she; it could be no one else.
S/he dashed into the house, skidding to a halt as s/he saw Selar standing there, her arms down at her sides, her face carefully neutral. Her gaze flickered along the lines of Burgoyne's body, but she withheld comment. Instead, she focused on Xyon, who was twisting like mad to get to her.
Burgoyne put him down, and he was across the room like a shot, practically scaling Selar's leg. Selar lifted him, cradled him in her arms. "He is getting big," she observed as Xyon wrapped his arms around her neck. "And he is clearly healthy. That is-"
"Maama," Xyon said proudly, with certainty.
Selar, for all her training and discipline, was unable to keep the surprise off her face. "Yes. That... is correct. Mama." She looked at Burgoyne. "Did you teach him that?"
"In a sideways manner, yes. Selar... what are you doing here?"
"I am holding our child."
"Yes, I know that, but-" S/he shook hir head, still unable to believe what s/he was seeing. "But, I mean-"
"I know what you mean," she interrupted. "I have... been giving a great deal of thought to things. And I believe I have come to a conclusion."
Burgoyne could scarcely voice the words. "And that conclusion... would be... ?"
She let out a slow breath. "I am a physician. It is in my nature to diagnose. I believe that I have been... not misdiagnosing, but overdiagnosing my situation.
I have not done anything, however, to genuinely treat it. And I believe that this is an instance where the axiom, 'Physician, heal thyself,' is particularly appropriate."
Burgoyne's voice dropped to a whisper as s/he said with amusement, "Look." Selar did. Xyon had dropped off into a peaceful sleep, content in his mother's arms.
Selar looked around, and then to Burgoyne with a mute question, and Burgoyne promptly understood and nodded. The nursery was indeed in the same place it had been when Selar was last there, and that was where Selar brought the sleeping child. She lay him gently down in his crib, keeping a hand resting peacefully on his back for some minutes. In that way, she felt the rise and fall of his back, the warmth of him, the beating of his heart.
"Checking to make sure he's still alive?" asked Burgoyne. S/he was speaking from the door to the room in a voice that was barely above a whisper. Selar, naturally, heard it with no problem.
"I had no doubt of that," Selar whispered back as she turned and walked out of the nursery. She stood there, facing Burgoyne, who still had a few bits of the lake dripping on the floor at hir feet.
Burgoyne braced hirself and asked the question s/he had been dreading. "Have you come here... to try and take him back?"
"No," Selar said immediately.
"Oh... a visit, then. All right, uhm..." S/he started to step away from Selar.
"Why don't I get dressed and we can-"
"Putting on clothing would be a poor use of time."
The remark caught Burgoyne off guard. "It... would?"
"Yes. For I will simply have to remove them again."
She extended the first two fingers of her right hand and held them out.
Understanding, but almost afraid to, Burgoyne-instead of returning the touch with hir own fingers-took Selar's hand in hir own and gently kissed the knuckles of Selar's extended fingers. Selar let out a low sigh. "This is... highly illogical," she said softly as Burgoyne kissed the nape of her neck.
"Yes. I know. Isn't it great?"
They were eye to eye, and Selar said softly, "I will never tell you I love you."
"Not true. You will never say with words that you love me. There are... other ways."
"Really. And what," said Selar, the edges of her eyes crinkling slightly, "would those other ways be?"
"I'll show you," said Burgoyne.
And s/he did.
51 CWAN
"ft WASN'T HIM," said Kalinda,
Si Cwan's sword never wavered from its place, nor did he take his eyes off the man he had identified as Olivan. "What do you mean? That is him. It's been many years, but I would know him in-"
"I'm telling you, it wasn't him. It was him," and Kalinda pointed with utter confidence at Nik.
"What... in hell is going on?" demanded Robin.
"Robin," Morgan said sharply, in a tone that clearly indicated she expected
Robin to silence herself.
But Robin wasn't buying that fo
r a moment "No, Mother. I'm a lieutenant in
Starfleet Si Cwan, whose aide I formerly was, has just come in here, throwing around accusations, and I insist on knowing what's going on!" She had been addressing her mother, but the statement was as much aimed at Si Cwan as it was at her.
"Olivan... this man," and he indicated Rafe, who had not moved from the spot, "was a former student of a teacher of mine. A man who taught me the art of self-defense, of camouflage. How to move, to fight... in some ways, to think. But they came to a falling-out, many years ago. Some weeks ago, Olivan returned... and killed him."
"How do you know it was him-I mean, this 'Olivan.' "
"Kalinda saw it. In a dream."
"And you trust the imaginings of some young girl?" Nik said scornfully. "Based on that, you'd accuse-"
"Nik." His father spoke, and there was something different in his voice. "Nik... let it go. This is unworthy. Is it not unworthy, Si Cwan? We were students of
Jereme, after all. Denying who and what we are, and shying away from a battle
... these are inappropriate things, wouldn't you say?"
"Very much," agreed Si Cwan. He had not relaxed a muscle.
"But it wasn't him!" said Kalinda, pointing at Rafe. "He's not Olivan! The other one is!"
"He's much too young."
"But he's the one who killed Jereme!"
"It does not matter who did," Rafe said evenly. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, pressing them against the belt buckle. "We are both responsible. Singling out one or the other is not relevant. If you have a grievance with one... you have it with both."
Robin had never, ever seen Si Cwan like this. The fury was palpable, and when he spoke, it was like a voice from the grave. "Then I will kill you both," said Si
Cwan. "One or two... it matters not to me. For you killed my teacher, and you will die."
"Oh, my God," whispered Robin.
Si Cwan took a step toward him, and suddenly froze in place as he saw a grim smile spread across Rate's face. Kalinda was advancing next to nun, but he put up a hand. She looked at him in confusion. "What's wrong?"
"He's done something. I don't know what, but he's done something."
"My, my. You have learned a good deal, Si Cwan, even with the limited training that Jereme gave you," said Rafe. He was starting to circle the table, his gaze locked with Si Cwan's. "You see, Si Cwan... the true art of war is to plan for it, even if you do not know that you're going to be in one. There is no such thing as too many backup plans. Tell me... does the name Gerrid Thul mean anything to you?"
It was Robin who spoke up. "A madman. Someone who created a computer virus that came close to wiping out the Federation. His allies introduced a virus into the
Excalibur that nearly destroyed it-"
"Did... destroy it."
There was dead silence.
"No," whispered Robin. "It was... it was two separate incidents."
Rafe shook his head. "No. You thought it was. But it wasn't. The virus that led to the destruction of the Excalibur was a delayed farewell present from the incident your Federation has termed the 'double helix situation.' And I... helped create it I helped conceive it, and my resources, my scientists, aided in its develr opment. I'm rather clever when it comes to creating such things. And
I like to spread the joy. That's why I have introduced a virus into the central computer of the El Dorado, which I've just triggered," he tapped the belt buckle, "with this. Within two minutes, this entire resort will become one gargantuan death trap. I am the only one who can stop it. If you kill me, Si Cwan-if you manage to do so, which
I very much doubt-then you will be dooming everyone you see in this room to a very violent death. Your choice, Si Cwan. For the sake of everyone here... I hope you choose correctly."
TO BE CONCLUDED...
The End
Star Trek - NF - 10 - Excalibur 2 - Renaissance Page 24