The Returned, Part I

by Peter David

  He nodded and smiled. “Well done, Admiral.”

  But Shelby was not in the mood to be complimented. “I don’t like what we did, Ed. I don’t like that I was dishonest with my husband.”

  “This is the same husband that abandoned you on Xenex after—”

  “I know what he did. I was there. As I recall, I volunteered that information. I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just been honest with him. Told him what you wanted him to do.”

  “What I wanted him to do flies in the face of Starfleet policy, Elizabeth. You know that as well as I do. That part of the story was absolutely true.”

  “So you get what you want,” she said in annoyance. “And you do it without having to put yourself at risk. If Mac accomplishes the mission, then you slap him on the wrist. If, on the other hand, the entire mission falls apart, then you get to say that you specifically ordered him not to do it and he ignored you. Either way, you’re covered.”

  “That’s not why we did it this way and you know it.”

  “Oh really,” she said, her voice faintly sarcastic.

  “Yes, really. We both know that Mac is at his best when he is acting in the interests of something that runs counter to standard operating procedure. He needs to rise to the occasion, and he has frequently been at his best when he’s operating in a manner that he believes runs opposite to my interests. Let’s face it, Elizabeth: he may have lost some of his edge since he and I patched up our differences.”

  “He lost his edge because his people were obliterated, Ed. I wouldn’t be so quick to claim that much influence in his life.”

  “Whatever you say,” said Jellico, but he didn’t sound as if he agreed. “So they installed the cloaking device?”

  “Yes, and tested it. It seems fully functional.”

  “Now we just wait,” said Jellico.

  “Yes, we do.” She paused and then said, “And when he comes back—when he’s accomplished his mission—I’m going to tell him that you and I were working together. That we set this whole thing up. That you really wanted him to go but chose some byzantine reverse psychology to get him to do just that. A move, by the way, that he figured out, for the most part. He suspected that you told him not to do it specifically because you wanted him to. For all I know, he figured out my part in it but was simply too polite to mention it. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “In that case,” said Jellico cheerfully, “you don’t have anything to worry about.”

  “Ed, I’m married to Mackenzie Calhoun. Believe me, I always have something to worry about.”

  Excalibur

  i.

  SOLETA WAS SITTING in the Ten Forward, wearing a Starfleet uniform for the first time in ages. She had forgotten the softness of the cloth against her skin, having become accustomed to the leathery feel of Romulan clothing. She wasn’t sure if she felt comfortable in it, but Calhoun had insisted that if she was going to be returning to the crew of the ship, she needed to be all in. She had readily complied, but it was still going to take her a while to become accustomed to being a crew member once more.

  Especially since no one in the crew seemed quite certain how to react to her.

  When Xy had brought her to a science lab, they had greeted her warmly enough. She had, after all, once been the science officer. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel that they were not quite sure how to react to her. Part of it, she imagined, came from the knowledge that she was half Romulan, and had served as an agent to the Romulan emperor. By any reckoning, that would make her an enemy of the Federation. But no one questioned her being there, because her installation was a directive of Calhoun, and they trusted him implicitly.

  Nevertheless, it was not the easiest time, for any of them, adjusting to her presence.

  Whenever she walked the ship’s corridors, people nodded to her or muttered a soft, “Hello.” But she was sensing distance from everyone. Soleta supposed she couldn’t blame them, yet it was difficult for her to accept. She had once been a member of the crew and now was unquestionably being viewed as an outsider.

  Or you could just be imagining it, she thought grimly. This might all be in your head. Or maybe you’re just expecting too much of them.

  She was nursing a glass of Romulan ale, from the bottle that Shelby had given her. The half-empty bottle was sitting in front of her. Shelby seemed relieved to have Soleta take the ale with her. Soleta felt that was one of Ten Forward’s failings, to not have Romulan ale.

  She still remembered the first time she tasted it. The emperor himself had poured the drink for her, and he had insisted that she try it. She had done so with great reluctance and had been astounded to discover that she genuinely liked it. From that point on, she had become—not addicted, exactly—but definitely appreciative of it.

  “Are you drinking alone?”

  She looked up. Xy was standing there.

  She glanced around, but she was not imagining it. Several other crew members were glancing at them curiously, likely wondering why Xy was talking to her.

  “I am at the moment. You are welcome to join me.”

  “Thanks.” He slid into the chair opposite her at the small table. “What are you drinking?”

  “Romulan ale.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  “It is.”

  He stared at the bottle. “Can I try some?”

  She slid her half-emptied glass over to him. He lifted it, sniffed it experimentally, and then sipped it. His eyes widened and he gulped it before coughing loudly. “Damn,” he managed to get out.

  “Do you like it?”

  His voice sounded thick. “I’m not sure. I think it burned off my taste buds.”

  “That’s a common feeling. It will wear off.”

  “I hope so. I like my taste buds.” Xy cleared his throat and then said, “Settled in?”

  “As much as possible.”

  He stared at her and then said, “I feel I have to be honest with you about something.”

  “You didn’t want me in your science department.”

  Xy blinked several times and then leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t say ‘didn’t want.’ But I was—I have to admit—hesitant at first.”

  “Because I am part Romulan?” She shook her head and looked wistful. “You know, centuries ago, racism was a major difficulty for humanity. There were riots and many, many deaths. I thought it was laudable that humanity had grown beyond racism. I find it ironic to discover racism here.”

  “I don’t think you’re being fair,” Xy said. “Racism is steeped in ignorance, fear, and hatred of the other. If people fear the Romulans, it’s not without cause. You functioned as their operative, quite possibly taking actions against the Federation. Do you deny that?”

  “I did what I had to in order to survive. No one died at my hand. I never took a Federation life. Are the Excalibur’s hands clean?”

  “Well, the Excalibur is a starship, so I don’t think it exactly has hands.”

  “That is not the point.”

  “Then what is the point?”

  “I served by their side for years. I served as part of this crew.” She took back her glass and poured more Romulan ale into it. “I don’t like being regarded as if I were a stranger.”

  She sipped the ale.

  “I’m not sure that’s happening, but let’s say it is,” said Xy. “It’s only temporary. People just have to get used to seeing you back in uniform and being a part of the crew. They’ll get over it.”

  “Have you?”

  Xy slid off his chair and walked over to the bar. Soleta assumed that he was going to get a drink, probably the tasteless synthehol that was so popular because the inebriating effects could be shaken off immediately. He walked back and, to her mild confusion, placed an empty glass in front of her. “Another,” he said, tapping the bottle
of ale.

  “I thought it burned off your taste buds.”

  “Right, so I figure it can’t do any more damage.”

  Despite the seriousness of their discussion, Soleta actually allowed herself a very small smile at that. Since smiling was not exactly in her nature, that was a major concession from her.

  “I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me,” she said. “I know you did not have to.”

  “I think I did, actually. Because, to be honest, I was hesitant at first, as you know. But I’ve taken the time to sit down and study your time aboard the Excalibur. You were quite close with my mother.”

  She nodded. “Selar was quite a woman.”

  “She was. She sacrificed her life so that I could live.”

  “I know. That was very typical of the sort of thing she would do. To elevate your welfare over her own? Very typical indeed.”

  She had poured him another glass of ale, although it was a considerably smaller portion than previously. Xy raised his glass and said, “To Selar.”

  “To Selar,” said Soleta, and they clinked glasses.

  ii.

  “HE PROPOSED TO you.” In their quarters, Tania Tobias was staring at Kalinda. “I still can’t believe that Xyon actually proposed to you.”

  “He did.” Kalinda was lying back in the bed, reading a novel on a padd. “Why? Is that a problem?”

  “Of course it’s a problem!”

  Kalinda glanced over the top of the book. “I am unclear on why exactly. It isn’t as if I accepted it.”

  “He would have known you weren’t going to accept,” said Tania. She was pacing the quarters, trying to reason through the sequence of events. “So he must have had some other reason for coming here.”

  “You do not believe that he simply could have been exercising one last attempt to show his love for me?”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment,” said Tania. “Not for one single, solitary moment.”

  “I was unaware that you knew him. Have you even met him?”

  “I don’t have to meet him,” said Tania firmly. “I know his type. I know how his mind works. I swear, he must have had some other motive.” She sat down and considered it. “Where else did he go on the ship other than the transporter room and here?”

  “Nowhere. He was escorted from here and back again.”

  “What would he want in this room, then?”

  “Me,” said Kalinda. She sounded amused about it, which irritated Tania even more.

  “This isn’t funny,” Tania informed her.

  “I don’t think it is. But I think you’re rather amusing.”

  “I’m not trying to amuse you, Kally,” said Tania. “I’m trying to figure out Xyon’s true motivation for coming here.”

  “So you keep saying. I think you need to calm down about this, Tania.”

  “But you’re not considering—”

  “No, I’m not,” Kalinda said firmly. “Tania, you do not know Xyon the way I do. Yes, he can be impetuous. Reckless. Self-centered, even. But he has a fundamentally good heart, and he would not come aboard with the intent to harm me. I swear to you, I know him that well, at least.” She had put the padd aside, and she thumped the bed next to her. With an irritated sigh, Tania crossed the room and sat down next to her. Kalinda took her hand and rubbed it gently. “Trust me,” she said with soft insistence. “He simply came here to state his case. He stated it. And then he went on his way. I mean, if it will make you feel better, we can have the cabin searched thoroughly to make sure he didn’t leave anything here that could cause problems. If we do that, will that make you feel better?”

  Tania rolled her eyes. “That won’t be necessary,” she said. “I guess you’re right. I’m just being paranoid, I guess. The simple fact, Kally, is that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. So when it comes to you, I don’t exactly see straight. You know?”

  “I know,” said Kalinda, and she kissed her lightly and then more strongly.

  And the tracking device continued to send its steady signal . . .

  iii.

  ROBIN LEFLER WAS very proud of her rocking chair.

  It was hardly standard Starfleet issue. But that didn’t matter to Robin. She had specifically requested one—while Calhoun was gone—and Burgoyne had one built for her. Cwansi had not been an infant who had gone to sleep readily during the first few months of his life. He tended to remain awake, but he didn’t do it in a fussy manner. He just wouldn’t close his eyes. He seemed so fascinated by the world around him that he didn’t ever want to go to sleep because he might miss something. At least that was the explanation that Robin had come up with in her mind.

  The rocking chair had helped. Once settled into the rocking chair with Cwansi, she’d begin rocking, and he would generally fall asleep within two minutes. It was fascinating to watch.

  She had made over her quarters into something warm and earthy, using green and brown tones to give it an Earth-like quality. She was quite proud of having managed to acquire a collection of non-Starfleet furniture in order to accomplish it.

  The bell chimed at her door. “Come,” she called.

  Burgoyne walked in. S/he did not look at Lefler. It was as if ­s/he was unaware that Robin was even in the room. That was typically how s/he was at times such as this.

  The first time that Burgoyne had come to her quarters, Robin had been somewhat confused. She certainly knew and liked Burgy, but hir unexpectedly dropping by was not something that she had anticipated.

  Having been through it several times, Lefler knew exactly what was going to happen.

  For nearly a minute, Burgy simply stood there, staring into space.

  And then the tears began to roll down hir face.

  S/he never made the slightest sound during these encounters. There were the tears, yes, and hir chest would go in and out rapidly as if s/he could not draw in enough breath. But there was no audible sobbing, no gasping, and no whining of any sort. It was as if Burgy was internalizing all of it.

  Burgy staggered forward several steps, hir knees wavering, and then s/he sank to the floor next to her. Lefler had been rocking Cwansi, but he had fallen asleep and stopping was not enough to awake him. Burgy placed hir head against Lefler’s leg and continued with hir silent crying.

  The first time this had happened, Robin had been paralyzed with confusion and doubt. But when she had encountered Burgoyne later in the day, s/he was acting perfectly normal. Robin had looked deeply into hir eyes and had seen no sign that Burgy had any recollection of what s/he had done. So when Burgy had returned two weeks later and underwent the exact same routine, Lefler had not reacted in the slightest. She had simply sat there as Burgy sobbed hir heart out before getting up and walking out without a word.

  Now, as she had before, she reached out and stroked Burgoyne’s hair and whispered to hir. “It’ll be okay,” she said softly. “It’ll be fine.”

  As always, Burgy gave no indication that s/he heard.

  By this point, Lefler had more or less figured out what had happened. She knew all too well what Vulcans were capable of. Knowing that she was going to die, Burgoyne’s wife, Selar, had doubtless done some manner of Vulcan mind-meld with hir. Selar had doubtless tried to soothe whatever grief Burgoyne would feel upon her death. But the meld had obviously gone wrong somehow; perhaps Hermat minds were unique and resistant to psychic tampering. Whatever it was, Burgoyne’s mind was trying to break free of it and was partly succeeding. It was manifesting in a way that would not interfere with Burgoyne’s running the ship, and ­s/he didn’t even know it was happening.

  For long minutes Burgoyne’s outpouring of muted emotion continued. And then, just like that and with no warning, it ended. When s/he rose to hir feet, hir face was dry, as if the tears had been absorbed into hir skin. Which, for all Lefler knew, was exactly what had ha
ppened.

  S/he stood there briefly and then turned on hir heel and walked out.

  Lefler never had any idea why in the world Burgoyne had chosen her for this periodic outbreak of emotion. After wondering about it for an inordinate amount of time, she had simply decided to take it as flattery. On some level, Burgoyne understood that Lefler was trustworthy. She would never report the odd behavior to anyone in Starfleet or anyone else on the ship. Burgoyne had found someone to whom s/he could vent and could do so with utter impunity.

  Cwansi started to stir. Lefler resumed rocking, and moments later her son drifted back to sleep.

  iv.

  “COME,” CALLED MAC from behind the desk in his ready room.

  The doors slid open, and the massive form of the Brikar, Zak Kebron, was standing there.

  Even after all this time, Calhoun was uncertain of what to think of the Brikar. The Zak Kebron that he had initially known had been, for the most part, quiet and surly. As the head of security, that had seemed the ideal personality. Then, almost overnight, Kebron had changed. It was then that Calhoun had learned that the Kebron he’d known, despite his chronological age, was only a Brikar teenager. He had been transformed into someone who was thoughtful, caring, and so in touch with his emotions that he had been assigned the secondary task of ship’s counselor. And since there were currently no security issues in play on the Excalibur, Calhoun suspected that Kebron had come in his capacity as counselor.

  “Do you have a moment, Captain?” asked Kebron.

  “Of course, Zak. What’s up?”

  “I thought we should follow up on the time you spent away from the ship.”

  Yup. Called that. “In what respect, Mister Kebron?”

  “Ah. See, now you’re addressing me as ‘Mister Kebron’ instead of Zak. That says to me that you desire to keep me at an emotional distance.”

  Calhoun sighed. “I wouldn’t take it personally. I tend to want to keep everyone at an emotional distance.”

  Kebron didn’t sit. The chairs in the ready room were a bit too small for his girth and tended to make him uncomfortable. “I just wanted to point out that your reaction to the Xenexians being slaughtered was a little dramatic, and I also wanted to make sure that you had come to terms with it.”