The Returned, Part I

by Peter David

  “Zak . . . do you know where we’re going?”

  “Into Sector 221-G. Against Starfleet wishes.”

  “What does that tell you?”

  “What does that tell you?”

  This was exactly the conversation that Calhoun did not want to have. “It’s not against Starfleet wishes. This is exactly what Jellico wants.”

  “You don’t know that for sure.”

  “Zak,” said Calhoun with a sigh of mild frustration, “I know Jellico. I understand both what he says and what he doesn’t say. He wants me to find Nechayev as much as any man in Starfleet, and since the higher-ups are preventing him from getting it done, he sees me as the way to accomplish it. That’s why he phrased his orders the way he did.”

  “And Shelby? She’s your superior as well. Didn’t she reinforce what he said?”

  “Of course she did. She’s in on it with him.”

  Zak seemed confused. “In on it with him?”

  “Of course. They worked together in order to try and ‘convince’ me not to go to 221-G, when that is exactly what they wanted.”

  “You truly believe your wife would deceive you in that way?”

  “Yes,” said Calhoun without hesitation. “That is exactly what I believe.”

  “It must be very difficult to love someone you cannot trust.”

  “For me? Not at all. I love the notion that Eppy can betray me at any time because she believes she’s operating for the greater good. How can you not love someone who has their priorities in such fine order?”

  “Captain . . . I have absolutely no idea if you are joking or not.”

  “I never joke about my wife, Zak.”

  At that moment Calhoun’s combadge beeped at him. He tapped it. “Calhoun here.”

  “Sir, we are approaching Thallonian space,” Tobias reported.

  Oh thank God. “Prepare the cloaking device,” he said. He turned to Kebron. “I believe you’re needed at your post, Mister Kebron.”

  “Aye, Captain,” said Zak. With a potential combat situation in front of them, Zak’s entire counselor persona was quickly put aside. He was now in head-of-security mode. It was, honestly, the Kebron that Calhoun far preferred to deal with.

  Calhoun strode out onto the bridge and all eyes turned to him. He returned their gazes for a moment and then said, “You’re all aware that Starfleet doesn’t want us here. We are operating contrary to their sentiments. None of you needs to be concerned about your own career, because no one in Starfleet history has ever been brought up on charges for obeying their captain. If any of you wish to recuse yourselves from this endeavor, I will understand.”

  The bridge crew exchanged looks with each other and then Burgoyne said, “Captain . . . it is our honor to follow you wherever you wish to lead us.”

  He nodded and then said, “Where’s McHenry?”

  “He disappeared shortly after boarding, Captain,” said Burgoyne. “I’ve no idea where he’s gotten to.”

  “Somehow I’m not surprised. In the old days, he could disappear even when he was sitting at his station.” Then Calhoun’s glance went to the science station. There was no one there. “Where’s Xy?”

  v.

  WHEN XY’S COMBADGE went off, he sat up so abruptly that he slid off the bed and fell to the deck, landing with a thud. He sat up, looking around in confusion. “What . . . what happened . . . ? Where . . . ?”

  Slowly his gaze crept across the room, and he saw Soleta sitting in the corner, pulling her boot on. She smiled at him. Not a wide smile, granted, but it was visible. “Where is this?” he managed to say. His mouth felt like sandpaper.

  “It’s my quarters. Not much in here, but I do not own much.”

  “Did we . . . I . . . ?” He stopped talking for a moment to gather his thoughts. He stared down at himself and saw that a sheet, fortunately enough, covered his nudity. “When the hell did—?”

  “Romulan ale can be very invigorating. They should start stocking it on the ship. Some people can be very strongly influenced by it.” His combadge was beeping, and she nodded toward it. “You may want to answer that.”

  He saw that his combadge was lying on the floor, still attached to his uniform. He hit it quickly. “Xy here.”

  “I think Xy should actually be here,” came Calhoun’s voice. “We’re about to enter Thallonian space.”

  “Yes, Captain. Sorry. I was in conference. I’ll be right up.”

  Calhoun simply shut off the link rather than continue the conversation. That left Xy staring at Soleta. “Did . . . did we . . . ?”

  “You were very enthusiastic,” Soleta told him.

  He closed his eyes and moaned softly. “How did . . . I mean, I can see me becoming so drunk, but you . . . ?”

  “I wasn’t drunk. I was just trying to keep up.”

  She stood up and smoothed the front of her uniform. “I’ll head up first. I suspect I’ll be needed on the bridge for the time being. You come up a few minutes afterward so no one will put it together.”

  “Yes, okay. Absolutely.”

  She headed for the door and then stopped when Xy called her name. She turned to face him.

  “We didn’t have sex, did we,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  She hesitated a moment and then said, “No. You were interested and I wasn’t averse because, well . . . I’ve been in a coma for several months. And I wanted to test out my legs. So I brought you here, and you threw off your clothes and then you passed out. I am sorry.”

  He sighed, his head slumping against the bed. “That’s a relief.”

  She stared at him. “Is the prospect of intercourse with me so abhorrent to you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “All right. Well . . . perhaps it is something we can consider for some time in the future when you are sober.”

  With that, she turned and walked out of her quarters.

  vi.

  THE EXCALIBUR STREAKED through Thallonian space, the cloaking device’s shimmering effect around it. The farther they got into Sector 221-G, the quieter the bridge became.

  “Readings,” said Calhoun.

  “Nothing so far,” said Kebron. “Sensors are at full . . . uh-oh.”

  Calhoun didn’t like the sound of that. “Full uh-oh?”

  “Thallonian ship is approaching.”

  “I have them, Captain,” Tobias spoke up. “It’s a warship, just on the outer reaches of sensor range.”

  “Is it heading for us, or is it on routine patrol?”

  “Impossible to determine.”

  Calhoun thought about it for a moment. “Full stop,” he ordered.

  “Full stop, aye.”

  The Excalibur dropped out of warp space and glided to a halt. Then it waited for the approaching warship.

  “Should we go to red alert, Captain?” asked Kebron.

  Calhoun considered it and then shook his head. “We don’t know the full capabilities of the cloaking device. For all we know, they’d be able to detect red alert signals and our weapons powering up. Put me on ship wide.”

  “You’re on, Captain.”

  He spoke quickly. “All hands. No unnecessary talking or noise. We’re going to be playing dead until further notice.” He clicked off and then sat back in the command chair, interlacing his fingers and staring at the screen.

  The bridge crew took him at his word. There was total silence, a complete lack of chatter back and forth. They all stared quietly at the main viewscreen.

  Moments later, the battle cruiser was heading straight toward them. For a moment Calhoun was worried that, against all odds, it might actually collide with them. Then he quickly realized that, no, it was going to pass by them by a considerable distance. That was assuming that the ship was indeed intending to go past them as opposed to opening fire on
them.

  Soleta was standing next to Xy at the science station. As if she were reading Calhoun’s mind, she said very softly, “It is going to go past us. It will not see us.”

  Calhoun heard her. “I appreciate your confidence. I hope you’re right.”

  There was no more talking. Everyone stood and watched in silence, waiting to see if the warship would react to their presence.

  Closer it drew, and closer still. Silently Calhoun turned to Kebron, his face a question. Kebron was seemingly able to read his mind as well: Had the battle cruiser’s weapons come on line? The answer was a silent shaking of his head (or upper torso). It seemed the warship was running blind.

  Five hundred thousand kilometers, one hundred thousand, fifty thousand, and then the warship was so close that for a moment it really did seem to be a collision threat after all. But no, it kept going, hurtling past the starship and continuing on its path. It never so much as slowed down. Nevertheless, everyone remained silent until Calhoun slowly nodded. He let out his breath, realizing only belatedly that he’d been holding it.

  “Soleta,” he said finally, “it appears that your cloaking device managed to keep us hidden.”

  “Of course it did,” she said without hesitation. “It has never failed me.”

  A hand patted her shoulder. She looked in mild surprise and saw that it was Xy who had done so. “Thank you,” she said very softly. He nodded in response.

  “All right then. Keep her steady on course,” said Calhoun.

  The Excalibur continued on her path.

  vii.

  THE WARSHIP MIGHT have been the first of the Thallonian vessels that the Excalibur encountered, but it was most definitely not the last.

  The farther the ship penetrated into Sector 221-G, the more ships it encountered. A variety of races cruised past them, going on about their business. It was surprising to Calhoun, to see the amount of traffic that was in Thallonian space. But none of them seemed to be remotely aware of the ship’s presence. That was a situation that Soleta considered to be very pleasing. Not that she was effusive about it; that would not have been consistent with her personality. Nevertheless, she took pride in the performance of her ship’s cloaking device. It was a silent but effective testimony to the quality of Romulan technology.

  Yet even as she was reveling in the cloak’s achievement, Soleta remained uncertain. She had spent the majority of her life relishing her Vulcan heritage. To her, the Romulans were the well-established opponents of the Federation. The notion of taking any pride in Romulan technology was alien to her. Yet, she could not help herself.

  No wonder so many of them don’t trust me, she thought grimly. Even I have divided loyalties. Never for a moment did she believe that she would betray Starfleet if push came to shove. Still, being proud of her Romulan background . . .

  It does not matter. None of it matters. You are serving aboard the Excalibur and that is the only thing of importance.

  “Captain,” said Tobias, “we are approaching the coordinates of the wormhole that Soleta told us about.”

  Soleta nodded confidently. Her memory of her encounter with Nechayev was quite vivid, and she was positive that she had gotten it right. Xy, in response, said, “Sensors on full, Captain. If it’s out there, we’ll find it.”

  “ ‘If’? ” commented Soleta.

  “I’m sweeping the area as well, Captain,” said Lefler, “and thus far I’m not finding anything. Long-range sensors on maximum.”

  “It’s there,” Soleta assured her.

  “Coming up empty on mine as well,” said Xy.

  Soleta turned and looked at him in confusion. “No. It has to be there.”

  “Take us out of warp,” ordered Calhoun.

  The Excalibur dropped out of warp space into normal space, approaching the area that Soleta had demarcated as the wormhole location. Moments later the ship had glided to a halt. Xy and Lefler scrutinized the readings.

  “Sir,” Xy said slowly, “there’s nothing here. Just space.”

  “Impossible,” said Soleta. She strode over to the science station and nudged Xy aside. He moved out of the way so that she could take over the science station. She studied the readings and, although there was no change in her expression, her eyes flickered with desperation. “Impossible,” she said again. “It has to be here.”

  “Are you sure?” said Calhoun.

  She looked up at Calhoun. “Captain, I was in a coma for months with that information in my head. There is simply no way I could have gotten it wrong. It should be right out there.”

  “Except it isn’t,” said Lefler.

  “Captain, it has to be here. It’s eluding our sensors somehow.”

  “Is it possible for a wormhole to elude our sensors?”

  Soleta was about to respond, but for some reason she turned to Xy and waited for him to reply. He glanced at her momentarily and then, still looking at her, he replied, “Wormholes can be unstable, Captain. They’re there, and then they aren’t.”

  “Soleta, you said this one wasn’t unstable.”

  “It is not,” she said firmly. “I am sure of it.”

  “Just as you were sure it was here in the first place?” said Calhoun. He didn’t sound accusatory to her. He was simply asking for clarification. Nevertheless, there was a slight tinge of frustration to his voice. He, as much as anyone, wanted to go after the D’myurj, partly to rescue Nechayev, but mostly to exercise some manner of revenge on the beings that had destroyed his people.

  “It is here,” said Soleta. “Somehow our sensors aren’t picking it up. Perhaps the sensors are malfunctioning . . .”

  “I don’t think so,” said Kebron, “considering that they are picking up incoming vessels fairly easily.”

  “Incoming—?” said Calhoun.

  “Yes, sir. Three warships . . . no, four. Make that five.”

  Calhoun was now on his feet, and there was worry on his face. “We’re in trouble,” he said grimly.

  “Are you sure, Captain?” said Burgoyne.

  “When it comes to trouble, I’m always sure. Is the cloak still on?”

  “Fully functional,” Lefler confirmed.

  “Captain,” Kebron said, “ships are coming in fully armed. Shields up, weapons hot.”

  “Maybe they’re on their way to a fight,” Tobias said hopefully.

  “They are,” said Calhoun. “But I think it’s a fight with us. Take us to red alert.”

  This time when the red alert siren sounded, Calhoun did nothing to silence it. Instead he strode forward, eyes on the ­viewscreen. The ships were definitely converging, and if Soleta had not known better, she would have sworn they were converging on the Excalibur. But it couldn’t be. The cloaking device was fully functional. There was simply no way that it could . . .

  “Captain, they’ve opened fire!” called Kebron.

  Blasts ripped through the darkness of space, hammering into the saucer section of the ship. The Excalibur trembled in response as blasts from three different directions slammed into it.

  “Impossible!” Soleta cried out.

  Tobias fired her an annoyed look. “You must love being right so many times today.”

  “Shields remaining stable, Captain,” said Kebron. “Those weren’t full-strength blasts. They were warning shots.”

  “How the hell did they know where we were?” demanded Calhoun. It was a general comment, but Soleta felt as if it were directed to her.

  “I don’t know, Captain,” she admitted. It was frustrating for her to do so. “The cloaking device was working earlier. Readings indicate that it’s working now. It shouldn’t be possible.”

  “We’re outnumbered five to one,” said Kebron. “Any thoughts, Captain?”

  “Sir!” Lefler suddenly spoke up. “We’re getting an incoming hail. It’s addressed to us by name. T
hey know it’s us!”

  Just like that, the entire endeavor had slid off the rails. Soleta simply could not comprehend how it had gone so wrong so quickly.

  Everyone on the bridge turned to Calhoun, waiting for him to make a decision. If he spoke to them, he would be flat out giving away that Excalibur was there. On the other hand, they seemed to know that already, so it wouldn’t be as if he was revealing anything.

  “They’re opening fire again!” shouted Lefler.

  This time the two other vessels were firing. One blast struck home on the saucer, and the second slammed into the aft nacelle. The ship shook violently; it was obviously a stronger blast than before.

  “Some shield damage,” reported Lefler. “Aft shield down five percent. Nothing we can’t handle.”

  “At the moment,” said Kebron. “Obviously they’re still in warning mode. Sooner or later—probably sooner—they’re going to get tired of warning us and start blasting away with everything they have.”

  Calhoun nodded and said the only thing he could. “Accept the hail, Robin.”

  Her fingers flew over the board in front of her, and moments later the red-skinned face of a Thallonian appeared on the screen before them. He had an elaborate series of tattoos etched on his bald head, and Lefler immediately muttered to Calhoun, “Top-rank warrior caste. Only they can wear those markings.”

  “Captain Calhoun,” said the Thallonian. “I am Castor Dule of the Thallonian fleet. I could say that I am pleased to see you here because your combat skill is legendary in my ranks. However, I must disapprove. Your vessel is not welcome here.”

  “We are on a mission, Castor Dule,” said Calhoun. “One that, frankly, we could use your help with.”

  “What manner of mission?”

  “We are looking for a wormhole to pass through to a pocket universe in order to confront a race that has caused serious hardship for the Federation.”

  “Really?” Dule made a show of looking right and left. “I do not see a wormhole in this vicinity.”

  “Nor do we. If you could provide us readings of your records of this area . . .”