by Various
He opened his eyes and immediately squinted against the brightness of the sun. He put up an arm and winced at the motion, feeling a stiffness in the joint that made him wonder whether he'd injured the arm in its socket. But his only vocal acknowledgment of the pain was a low, annoyed growl, even as he continued to shield his eyes against the sun.
There was more pain, racing down his back, and in his elbows and knees, but he was beginning not to mind it so much. It was, after all, a reminder that he was alive.
"Eppy," he said again, and there she was, miraculously, sitting up a few feet away from him on the parched ground. She looked as utterly disheveled as he imagined he did, with her uniform just as wet, and her strawberry blond hair hanging down in sodden ringlets. But the way she was looking at him, with those eyes that seemed to own his entire soul, spoke of both gratitude and appreciation of the purely miraculous, because obviously she had never expected to see him again. She had probably never looked quite as awful in her entire life, and she had never looked quite as good to Calhoun as she did at that moment. When she smiled at him, it lit up her entire face.
"Hey, Mac," she got out, and her voice sounded as cracked and strained as did his. But none of that mattered, none of it at all...
Because he wasn't looking at her. He was looking through her, around her. For all the attention he was paying her, she might as well not have been there at all. Apparently she was aware of it, for her face fell and her lips thinned as she reflexively shoved her hair out of her face. "Mac," she said, making no effort to keep the annoyed disapproval out of her voice and failing spectacularly. "Mac... I'm right here."
Calhoun still wasn't listening. Instead he was getting to his feet, and astoundingly all the pain, all the hurt, all the stress that his body had been through was instantly forgotten. His legs were strong and firm again, blood pumping through them as if they were the legs of a twenty-year-old. And although there was a look of utter incredulity upon his face, there was also calm certainty, as if he was convinced that what he was looking upon couldn't possibly be there... but if it was, it wasn't going to daunt him. As if, upon seeing this, he could handle pretty much anything.
"Mac," she said again, but this time her tone of voice had changed, for clearly she was aware that not only was it odd that they were alive, but odder still that her environment had changed so radically. It only made sense, Calhoun realized; she had not, after all, been conscious when they went through the gateway. The last thing she had known was that they were upon a nameless ice world with death imminent. "Mac... Mac, what's wrong? Where are we?" She glanced over her shoulder and an instant later she was squinting as well. "God, it's bright here!" "And dry," he said.
"Where... are we?" she asked in wonderment. She had staggered to her feet, and was pulling on the bottom of her uniform shirt, wringing it out as best she could. Enough water to boil up a nice cup of tea poured out of the cloth as she twisted it. "It... seems familiar... but I... I'm not sure... " "You've been here... but you haven't been here. Neither have I." "What... ?"
In the near distance, Calhoun studied the castle-like structures that dotted the horizon. The towers were tall, powerfully built, gleaming Defiantly in the scorching sun... so strong, so new, that Calhoun didn't know whether to laugh or cry. They were not freestanding; instead they had been carved right out of cliffs of solid rock. Calhoun had looked upon similar structures in his youth, but they had always been silent and empty... a mute testimony to more ancient times when such fortresses provided great measures of security. Back before invaders from another world had shown up with mighty weapons that were capable of reducing such places to shattered shadows of their former selves. Never had Calhoun looked upon such a fortress - "keeps," they were called - in such pristine condition. Not only that, but even at this distance he could see people moving through it, walking the parapets, going from one carved entrance to the next with confidence and casual athleticism. It was like watching history come to life. Along the bottom ridge of the fortress wall was an array of tents, private accommodations for some of the privileged higher-ups.
It took him a moment to realize that Shelby was speaking to him, and he focused his attention on her with effort. "What did you say, Eppy... ?" "Mac... where are we?" she asked with genuine concern. He saw how she was looking at him, as if worried that he'd somehow taken leave of his senses... or, at the very least, lost track of his priorities.
"Xenex." He couldn't quite believe it until he actually said it. It was as if the spoken name of the place lent it reality that it didn't have moments before.
"Xenex," she repeated tonelessly. "Your homeworld. Xenex."
He nodded. "I... think so, yes." "How the hell did we get to Xenex?" "A gateway," he said. "There was a huge one on the ice world... much bigger than either of those transportable devices that the Iconians had. It was activated, and I took us through there to here... " " _Here' being Xenex." She adopted a professional, clinical attitude, sizing up the sky, the sun. "It... could be," she said slowly. "I was only there the one time, but - " "It is, Eppy, trust me. I was there a hell of a lot longer than one time," Calhoun told her. He stayed rooted to the spot, unwilling to move, worried in some absurd fashion that if he did, what he was seeing would simply vanish like a passing soap bubble. His nostrils flared slightly, and he frowned. He looked for some hint of smoke or damage or signs of battle from the Keep, but there was nothing, which certainly seemed at odds with what his other senses were telling him.
He was so focused on his environment that he started slightly when Shelby stepped right in front of him. "Mac," she said firmly, "what's happening? I know you. I know your body language better than I do my own. You're tense... " "We just stepped through a gateway onto Xenex, Eppy. Isn't that enough reason for tension?"
It was a sign of how dire their situation was that Shelby didn't tell him to dispense with the annoying nickname of "Eppy" that he favored.
"There's even more going on here than that," she said. "It's as if you're in full battle mode. Like you're detecting an immediate threat.
What's going on? I have a right to know, a right to be as prepared as you." "You couldn't possibly be," he said, and then instantly regretted the harshness of his phrasing.
Shelby, however, did not appear to take offense. Instead she simply inclined her head slightly, and said, "If you mean I can't be the fighter you are, considering your background, fine, point taken. But my mind's as sharp as yours, Mac, and information will help me as much as it will you."
He drew in a deep breath of air to confirm that which he'd already surmised. "There's been fighting," he said.
"How do you know? I don't see any sign of it." "Nor do I," he admitted. "But... I can smell it." "What do you smell?"
His instinct was to protect her from the situation, but it was an instinct that he had to override. He knew she deserved better than to be coddled and sheltered, and besides, if he was right, she was going to find out sooner or later anyway. "Blood. There's blood in the air.
Blood and death." "Really? What does that smell like?"
He was annoyed by the flippancy in her voice. "It smells like chicken. What do you think it smells like?" "I don't know, Mac!" she said with a frustrated wave of her arms. "I never noticed blood having a particular scent, and death is more concept to me than something definable by one's nose."
He took a step toward her, looking down at her, and he felt a looming darkness behind his eyes. "That, Eppy, is because you've never been up to your elbows in it." "Screw you, Calhoun," she shot back. She faced him, her hands on her hips. "Maybe I wasn't a teenage warlord, hacking my way through corpses stacked five feet high, but I had a starship and crew dying around me when I fought the Borg, so don't tell me what I know and don't know, all right?" "Fair enough," he said mildly. "In that case, the smell in the air should be slightly familiar to you."
She took a deep breath, then admitted slowly, "It is. Slightly." "Come on." "Where?"
He pointed to the Keep. "Ther
e." "Why there?"
Shrugging, Calhoun asked, "Do you have a better idea?" "Good point," she said.
They started walking. Somewhere along the way, Calhoun reached over and took Shelby's hand. It felt warm and comforting, and not only that, but he couldn't believe how quickly and thoroughly he'd recovered from near death. All the discomfort was forgotten, the paralysis gone from his feet and fingers. Even more remarkable was Shelby's recovery. It had seemed to Calhoun that she'd been perhaps a few heartbeats away from death, and yet now here she was, as hale and hearty as he was, walking at a brisk distance-eating stride that easily matched his.
They crossed the plain, approaching the mountainous area where the Keep was ensconced. Little clouds of dust were kicked up under their feet, and the dirt crunched beneath their boot soles. "The sun's setting," he said abruptly.
She blinked, apparently surprised by the gravity of his pronouncement.
"So? Suns do that. At least once a day, as I recall."
But Calhoun shook his head, racking his brain, trying to remember.
"There's... more to it, though. I... remember the sun starting to set... I think... didn't see it through, though. And... I know I didn't I see it rise... so how... ?" "I don't know, Mac. I don't know why a gateway would drop us on Xenex, I don't know why I'm feeling so completely recovered in such a short period of time... "
So she had noticed...
". . . but what I do know," and she squeezed his hand, "is that I'm with you. And that's the most important thing. Together we can handle just about anything."
He smiled at that. The vote of confidence seemed ever-so-slightly nave on her part, but he certainly wasn't going to say that. Instead he appreciated the sentiment for what it was.
Calhoun was about to reply to her when a sudden explosion tore the air.
It froze Shelby and Calhoun in their tracks and they looked ahead to the Keep, eyes wide, as one of the lower sections suddenly erupted in flames. People were running, screaming, shouting defiance. Another section of the Keep exploded, and people fell off the parapets, arms pinwheeling in futility as if they were hoping they could grab handholds from the very air.
"Come on!" shouted Calhoun, yanking on Shelby's hand.
She stayed where she was, looking at him incredulously. "You want to head toward that?!" she demanded. "You're crazy!" "We have to!" he told her.
"Forget it!" she said. "We're not budging from - !"
Calhoun heard it, smelled it before he actually saw it: a giant, flaming mass of burning slag, descending from overhead, a misfire from a catapult that was falling well short of its target - namely the Keep. It was, however, descending right toward the two Starfleet officers, and it was too large, nowhere to run, and even as Calhoun yanked on Shelby's arm to try and get clear of it, he knew in his heart that it was too late.
The slag struck them, crushing their bodies and obliterating them, leaving no trace that they had ever been there.
And so died Mackenzie Calhoun and Elizabeth Shelby, without ever having a chance to see the sun set.
". . . but what I do know," and she squeezed his hand, "is that I'm with you. And that's the most important thing. Together we can handle just about anything."
He smiled at that. The vote of confidence seemed ever-so-slightly nave on her part, but he certainly wasn't going to say that. Instead he appreciated the sentiment for what it was.
Calhoun was about to reply to her when a sudden explosion tore the air.
It froze Shelby and Calhoun in their tracks and they looked ahead to the Keep, eyes wide, as one of the lower sections suddenly erupted in flame. People were running, screaming, shouting defiance. Another section of the Keep exploded, and people fell off the parapets, arms pinwheeling in futility as if they were hoping they could grab handholds from the very air.
"Come on!" shouted Calhoun, yanking on Shelby's hand.
She stayed where she was, looking at him incredulously. "You want to head toward that?!" she demanded. "You're crazy!" "We have to!" he told her.
Shelby knew beyond any question that it was madness. Despite the fact that Calhoun insisted this was Xenex, there was still some vague doubt in her mind. But if there was one thing she wasn't doubting, it was that running toward some major battle was the height of folly. Far better to turn around and put as much distance between themselves and it as possible.
But even as that thought went through her mind, something told her that it was the wrong move. That they were in an insane situation, and it would be far better to surrender to that insanity and just... just go along with it, even though it didn't seem to make much sense.
"All right, fine!" she said, and allowed Calhoun to haul her forward.
Abruptly the air behind them was superheated, and seconds later Shelby was knocked off her feet by the impact of some sort of flaming mass of... she had no idea what. All she did know was that it had crashed to the ground right where they'd been standing.
Her blood thudded in her temples as she realized just how close a call that had been, but Calhoun gave her no time to dwell on it. "Let's go!" he said, yanking on her arm once more, and Shelby had no choice but to follow.
Death. Death in the air. Yes, she could smell it now, just as Calhoun had been saying yesterday - "Yesterday?" The word hung in her mind even as it tumbled out of her mouth for no reason she could determine.
Calhoun glanced at her, clearly not understanding what she was referring to. "What about it?" "Nothing. Nothing." She didn't fully comprehend herself what had prompted her to say that, and she certainly didn't have the time to dwell upon it. "That was... that was just a close call, that's all." "I was thinking the same thing," he said dryly. "Come on."
They pounded across the plains, and Shelby was amazed at how easily she was keeping up with Calhoun. She didn't think he was running particularly slowly, but nevertheless she was pacing him with no difficulty. He wasn't even pulling on her arm anymore since she was able to maintain an equal speed with him. Calhoun obviously was becoming aware of it as he cast an appraising glance in her direction, even as they kept moving.
"Why are we running... toward the site... of the battle?" she shouted over the sounds of explosions as her arms pumped furiously.
"Because it's better than being out in the open! And the Keep is returning fire! See?"
And he was right. From the upper reaches, a catapult-like device had appeared, and they were dispatching giant flaming wads of whatever at their still-unseen aggressors. Men and women were crawling along the upper reaches of the Keep like so many spiders, and what had at first seemed like disordered panic to Shelby now came across as a clearly organized response to the assault.
There were outcroppings of rock ringing the outer edge of the Keep, only a few feet high. "These aren't enough to keep anyone out!"
Shelby said.
"It's enough to prevent wheeled war vehicles from drawing too close," Calhoun responded, even as he clambered up the ridge. Shelby immediately followed suit. "That's why it was so useful in the old days. In the new days, when we were attacked by flying ships and such, well... " He let his voice trail off.
"You sound... almost nostalgic... for ground combat," she grunted as she hauled herself over, scraping herself rather thoroughly as she did so.
"When a man's trying to kill you, you should be able to look him in the eye." "How sweet."
They tumbled up and over, Shelby throwing her arms over her head to shield it on the roll down. She bounded to her feet, feeling more invigorated, more alive than she'd ever been. It was as if the danger that surrounded her had flipped some sort of switch within her brain, making her savor all the more every breath she took in the face of danger.
"Come - !" Calhoun started to say, but with a sharp gesture she silenced him and snapped, "If you say _Come on' to me one more time, I break your neck."
He laughed at that, but it seemed to her a laugh of sheer joy, as if he was thrilled to be sharing this... this demented escapade with her.
They ran toward the Keep, and although a couple of the flaming masses of whatever-the-hell-they-were landed near them, nothing came as close as that earlier one had. They were drawing within close range of the defenders in the upper reaches of the Keep, and the defenders were pointing at them now, shouting to one another. For an instant Shelby was extremely concerned. What if these people took Calhoun to be an enemy and opened fire on him?