Star Trek - NF - 12 - Being Human

by Being Human(lit)

  Xyon darted around running crewmen, continuing to screech "Maaa! Maaaa!" the entire time. He had darted out of the children's center when the trouble had started, and Moke had been chasing him all over the damned ship for the duration of the emergency. He would have asked someone for help, but he understood mat this was a battle situation. Certainly Calhoun had schooled him on what that circumstance met. And given everything that was going on, it just wasn't reasonable to think that security personnel could or would drop whatever they were doing to help track down a panicked child. Which meant it was up to Moke.

  At least Moke wasn't in danger of losing him alto-gether. The transponder beneath Xyon's skin saw to that It meant that although Xyon could keep ahead of him, Moke would never lose track of him. So it was just a matter of time until he managed to rein in Xyon. Ei-ther that, or else until Moke collapsed from the strain of chasing the toddler all over the place.

  He kept an eye on his tracking device and then, miraculously, he saw that Xyon had stopped moving. Fi-nally, Moke had caught a break. He kept running, be-cause he didn't want to pass up the opportunity to

  actually catch up with the child, and if Xyon went into motion again, the whole thing would start all over. But fortunately enough, he still wasn't moving, and then Moke suddenly blinked in confusion because-accord-ing to the tracker-he had somehow gone right past Xyon.

  He turned and looked around, confused for a mo-ment. Then he saw: a Jefferies tube. "Well, that figures," he said to no one in particular. He was more amused and relieved than anything else.

  Moke stood at the bottom of the Jefferies tube and called up into its dark recesses, "Xyon? You up there?" He knew, in point of fact, that Xyon was. He hoped that perhaps if he gave the child the opportunity, the child would come down on his own initiative. Such, however, did not appear to be the case, for Xyon didn't stir.

  This made Moke slightly nervous. What if Xyon had gotten himself into some sort of trouble? Something life-threatening? With no further hesitation, Moke clam-bered up the ladder inside the Jefferies tube, moving deftly hand over hand until he achieved the top. He craned his head and looked around, suddenly wishing that he'd brought a flashlight.

  Cross-junctions and cramped work areas lined the area at the top of the tube. They were different from the ones he'd had to wiggle through to get Moke that last time, but it was still the same general design. He cer-tainly knew what he shouldn't touch... namely, any-thing. "Xyon," he whispered. "Xyon..." He wasn't in the immediate area, but the tracking device told him that Xyon was extremely nearby, practically on top of him...

  Directly on top of him, actually.

  Moke craned his neck, leaning as far back in the tube as he could while still holding on to the ladder, and he looked up.

  There was Xyon, staring down at him from an in-credibly narrow catwalk overhead. Xyon smiled lop-sidedly.

  And suddenly the Dark Man was right behind him. Despite how impossibly small the space was, despite the fact that Xyon should have reacted to him but didn't, there was the Dark Man, looming, staring down at Moke, and then he was reaching around Xyon, who still didn't seem to notice, and he was reaching for Moke...

  The boy let out a shriek of pure terror and, in doing so, lost his grip on the ladder. He toppled backward, his feet slipping off the rungs, and he tumbled down the Jef-feries tube. Moke bounced from one side of the tube to the other, cracking his skull on a rung, ripping up his back on piping and consoles, and he tried to find some-thing he could grip on to, but there was nothing, it was all happening too quickly.

  And then Moke hit a rung once more, bounced off, and crashed to the floor of the corridor. He lay there, stunned, staring up into the darkness, his body shaking, although whether it was from the impact or in fear, he couldn't tell.

  Something was moving in the Jefferies tube. It was the Dark Man, coming toward him. He knew that with absolute certainty, and then the Dark Man was just going to... to suck his soul, that was all. Suck his soul right out, because Moke was an evil boy who had hurt people, and the Dark Man was here to punish him, pun-ish him for eternity.

  The shadows dispersed around the fast-moving form, and that was when the stunned Moke saw that it was Xyon who was descending the Jefferies tube. Moving with the speed and assurance of a chimp, Xyon was on the ground next to the unmoving Moke, touching his face, looking concerned and frightened.

  Moke couldn't feel the lower half of his body. It frightened him as he lay immobile on his back, and he wanted to get up but couldn't.

  He saw the Dark Man upon the stair... and he wasn't there.

  "What do you want?!" screamed Moke. "What do you want?!" But he wasn't there again. For the moment, he had gone away.

  And Moke, his fear growing as he started to feel colder, trembled and shook as he said to a wide-eyed, confused Xyon, and wondered, "Am... am I going to die?"

  V.

  There was smoke everywhere, and out of all the situa-tions she'd been in in the past, Soleta had never been so convinced that she was going to die as she was at that moment.

  Energy was crackling everywhere, relays hopelessly overloaded and blown out. Smoke was stinging her, causing her eyes to water. She was lying on the floor and when she tried to move, she felt a sharp stabbing pain in her chest that made her conclude she had a busted rib. Soleta choked back an angry sob as she tried to orient herself, tried to figure out just where the hell she was. She remembered being thrown across the bridge from the impact, and then there was nothing, darkness, smoke everywhere. She coughed violently, stayed low to the floor, trying to find air to breathe, be-cause Vulcan or no, her lungs would collapse as readily as anyone else's.

  She heard moans from all around her, and there was debris all around her. She realized belatedly that she'd been damned lucky; a foot to the left and she would have been crushed by a fallen lighting array. The emergency lights were on, but even some of those were out, and the entire bridge was a ghastly, spectral array.

  "All... all hands." She heard Burgoyne's voice through the darkness, coughing. "All hands... report in... bridge crew..."

  "Here," Soleta managed to get out, her voice sounded ragged. She put her hand to her forehead to shove her hair out of her face, and came away with green blood on her hand. She told herself, in as calm and dispassionate a manner as she could, that head wounds tended to bleed a lot and that it wasn't necessarily related to the severity of the injury itself.

  "I'm here," came Kebron's voice. Several others sounded off as well. But she didn't hear Burgoyne. Nor did she hear Morgan or McHenry.

  The smoke started to clear ever so slightly, and she was able to see a figure standing in it. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought it was a Borg, and then she realized it was Calhoun, still wearing the connection helmet to the hologram.

  Then she saw the viewscreen. Astoundingly, it was still functional. The picture was filled with static, but she could see it nevertheless. And what she saw on it did not give her cause for comfort.

  The gigantic ship was coming around again. The ram had been withdrawn from the saucer, and she could only assume that the entire saucer hadn't been torn to shreds through explosive decompression because the fail-safe shields had snapped into existence over the rents in the hull. But it wasn't going to make much of a difference in a few moments, because they weren't moving and the ship was heading straight for them.

  "Morgan! Move to intercept!" came Calhoun's voice, and she realized he was speaking through his holo avatar on the warp section. "Yes, Goodwin, I'm back on line!" He coughed fiercely, then pulled his atten-tion back immediately. "Morgan... where's Morgan? Where's her holo... ? All right, Beth, plot a course! Goodwin, arm photon torpedoes... !"

  There was nothing in his voice that betrayed any ner-vousness. He was utterly focused. But Soleta had seen how quickly the Greek vessel was moving, had calcu-lated the distance, and been forced to the conclusion that there was simply no way that the warp section was

  going to get there in time, or
any difference that the pho-ton torpedoes would make.

  And then the saucer lurched, and for one moment Soleta-along with everyone else on the ship- thought that they'd been hit. But quickly she realized that it couldn't be, that the sailing ship wasn't there yet. For there it was, on the screen, except the angle was shifting and the saucer was being pulled away from it, faster and faster, and suddenly the Greek trireme was being hit from overhead by a lethal combi-nation of phaser fire and photon torpedoes. Then pho-ton torpedoes exploded from the other direction as well, and the dreadnought trireme didn't know where to look first.

  Another starship, flew through Soleta's mind, and then she realized: the Trident. Even as the thought went through her mind, the voice of Captain Elizabeth Shelby crackled through the bridge's com system. "Excalibur, this is Trident. We're a little early for our rendezvous, but somehow I don't think you're going to mind. We have you in our tractor beams and are pulling you out of harm's way."

  "Much obliged, Captain," said Calhoun. He was brac-ing himself against the railing, which was partly bent in half. "Don't let down your guard! Keep firing! Don't let up for a second! And if a giant hand or face should ap-pear, don't let it rattle you."

  "I didn't copy that, Calhoun. Did you say a giant-?"

  "Hand or face, yes."

  "Who the hell are these people?" Shelby's voice de-manded. "Greek sailing ships that can punch a hole in a starship? What's going on? You know what... on sec-ond thought, save it. They damaged you. We're going to kick their asses now and settle for answers later. And I know we can."

  Soleta, making sure that no one else could see her, smiled slightly at the bravado.

  "Mac, they're breaking off," Shelby said abruptly. "Apparently they've had enough."

  And that did indeed appear to be the case. The dread-nought had veered off, and was suddenly retreating. The remaining smaller ships surrounded it. At first Soleta was concerned that it was some sort of trick, that they'd come back and take a run at both the Trident and the warp section of the Excalibur before turning and finish-ing off the saucer section.

  But that seemed not to be the case. Instead the ships kept going. Soleta staggered over to her science station. Several of the sensory devices were down, but enough was functioning for her to be able to say, "They're defi-nitely gone, Captain."

  "Oh gods... no..."

  It was Burgoyne's voice. It was weak and in pain, but it was hir, and then she heard hir call out, "Bridge to sickbay!"

  "Selar here. Burgoyne, where is Xyon? Everything happened so-"

  "He's on the warp section with Moke, he's fine! Selar! Get people up here... fast! Now! Now!"

  And Soleta had a sick, awful feeling she knew what it was. She moved quickly, stumbled and fell over some fallen debris, and felt another jolt of pain through her torso even as she moved around to the front of the bridge.

  Burgoyne was lying on the floor, and even from where she was standing Soleta could see that hir left leg was broken. But Burgoyne didn't seem to notice, or care. Instead s/he was looking in dismay at the two bod-ies at the front of the bridge.

  McHenry was sitting there, eyes open, staring at nothing. He was slumped back in his chair, his head lolling to one side. The conn console was utterly fried, as if massive bolts of electricity... or something else... had come leaping out of there like contained lightning. The front of his shirt was completely black-ened, as if a spear of energy had slammed through. The back of his chair was broken clear off.

  Morgan was slumped across him. She wasn't moving. Her body was completely blackened, as if she had been roasted alive. Her uniform was crumbling away, her skin was puckered and blistered.

  It was clear what had happened: Some sort of power, beyond comprehension, had come leaping out of the conn unit. Morgan, seeing it, had instinctively thrown herself in front of McHenry to try and protect him. As a result, she had borne the horrific brunt of it.

  But she can't be dead, Soleta thought desperately. She's... she's immortal... she can't die... it's im-possible...

  Calhoun looked down at them. He closed McHenry's eyes, reached down and touched the burnt remains of Morgan's hair. He turned in her direction then, and she saw the pain in his eyes, but the hardness as well. The hardness of a man who had seen more death in his exis-tence than Soleta could ever imagine. "Mr. Kebron," he said softly, "is your board functional?"

  "Aye, sir. Barely."

  "Route ops systems through it. Get me damage report and casualty count."

  Soleta couldn't believe that Calhoun was managing to be so businesslike, so detached. Then she realized that if he had come apart, if he'd grieved in front of his crew, if he'd taken the luxury of showing how he must be feel-ing at that moment... well, that was the behavior she wouldn't believe.

  There was the sound of movement on the emergency access ladder, and an instant later Selar was making her way through the rubble and debris. Dr. Maxwell was right behind her, carrying a bag and emergency surgical instruments. She saw Burgoyne's leg, and for a moment concern passed across her face, but then she spotted the two bodies at the front of the bridge. "Maxwell," she snapped, and he immediately came forward, opening the bag and handing her a tricorder.

  "Captain," Kebron said, "getting damage-control re-ports. The breach has been sealed. Eight known fatali-ties, twenty-seven casualties, and three MIAs. We think they may have been pulled into space before shields were in place."

  Calhoun simply nodded. He was watching Selar, never taking his eyes off her as she ran her tricorder over both of them. Maxwell was preparing hypos for the two of them, but then slowly Selar stood, turned to Maxwell, and shook her head. Without a word, his face carefully impersonal, he returned the hypos to the bag.

  And when Calhoun next spoke, he sounded that much older, and that much more tired.

  "Mr. Kebron," he said, "please raise a channel to the Trident. Tell Captain Shelby... that I need to speak to Robin Lefler. That I have... some bad news to tell her..."

  DANTER

  IT DIDN'T SEEM ALL THAT LONG AGO to Si Cwan that he had been to the luxurious estate of Lodec, the Senate Speaker. How much, mused Si Cwan, things have changed, and yet how much they also have remained the same. The exterior of the house looked much different in the middle of the day than it did at twilight More inviting somehow. The air was crisp, however, signaling the advent of the cooler seasons of Danter.

  This time, however, he had Kalinda by his side. This was not a move that he had made willingly, nor did he think it especially wise. Kalinda, however, would not hear anything about it.

  "I'm going with you," she had told him in no uncer-tain terms when he had received the summons from the

  They had been in Si Cwan's suite of offices at the Sen-ate building. The offices had been specifically designed for him, and even bore a passing resemblance to the ar-chitectural style of the late, lamented Thallonian palace.

  "Under no circumstance," he had said.

  "Si Cwan... I'm not a fool. The reason he has sum-moned you has everything to do with the way you've been behaving in the past few days. You've been going from senator to senator, making passing references to 'death gods' and such. Yet you haven't been too specific about any of it, and that very vagueness has left all of them wondering. They look at you with suspicion and fear now when you pass through the hallways, because they all think you know more than you're telling, and they're all worried that you know more than they wanted you to know..."

  "Yes, Kally, I'm aware of all that," Si Cwan had said reasonably. "I told you that was what I was going to do."

  "But you've put yourself at tremendous risk."

  Si Cwan had laughed at that. "Risk? From these mites? They pose no threat to me."

  She had been less than enthused at the sound of that. "Do you have any idea how overconfident you sound?"

  "Kally..."

  "Don't 'Kally' me!" Glancing right and left, she low-ered her voice. "In case you haven't noticed, we happen to be in a distinct minority here.
There's exactly two Thallonians in residence on this world. Last I checked, there are something like two billion Danteri."

  "Yes, but one Thallonian is worth at least one billion Danteri, so that evens the odds."

  "You act as if this is a huge joke!"

  "No, Kalinda, I do not think this is a huge joke. However, I don't consider it the cause for concern or near panic that you seem to. I am simply stirring things up. That is all. Helping to bring the pot to a boil."

  "Yes, well," she had said doubtfully, "my concern is that you've been so busy stirring things up, that you're about to get yourself tossed in the pot. I doubt that the speaker has said he wanted to see you because he wishes to compliment you on your scintillating personality."

  "That much is true," Si Cwan had admitted.

  "And if I am right, and there is danger involved, then it would be best if I were along with you."