No Limits

by Peter David

  Burgoyne felt much better knowing the vision was the ordinary result of a known physical property. S/he liked understanding how things worked.

  The stasis was the most interesting part. If s/he could duplicate the stasis field, that could have real practical uses. Using a tachyon-particle stream, Burgoyne tried to get a reading on the stasis field itself. But it was impenetrable. There was a spike in the readings only when the pulse occurred. But the diagnostic unit could barely detect the chronometric particles. There wasn’t enough time to get a fix on the internal dynamics of the field itself.

  Burgoyne initialized an antiproton beam and focused it on the crystallized stasis field. If the computer timed it perfectly, the beam could lodge open the pulse, allowing the diagnostic unit to get a thorough scan of the interior. Since the chronometric particles had affected hir only at close proximity, it should be safe.

  “Here goes,” Burgoyne muttered as s/he triggered the antiproton beam.

  Burgoyne realized s/he was running in long strides, down on hir hands and bare feet, stretching to cover the grass-covered hills and meadows. It felt good to let loose without having to worry about mowing down people or avoiding things in the way. S/he was on Hermat, where life was free-range all the way.

  Another Hermat appeared beside hir, catching up. Burgoyne was spurred ahead, trying to beat the other Hermat, who laughed as s/he gamely kept pace. This other Hermat was hir lover, even though Burgoyne didn’t know hir name. That wasn’t unusual on hir homeworld. Hir lover was sleek and powerful, with a sense of humor to match Burgoyne’s because s/he apparently delighted in the chase.

  There was a settlement on the banks of a river ahead, a place where they could get food and a soft place to sleep for the night. The distant sounds of singing and drum-beating indicated it was a party night, which would make things even more exciting.

  But hir lover caught hir there on the hills and brought Burgoyne rolling down into the grass. Burgoyne grabbed hold, carrying hir lover along with hir. They slowed to a halt, already kissing in passion. Burgoyne didn’t mind sleeping outside under the stars. S/he had hir tricorder in hir hip belt with the latest technical specs on reactant injector valves that would give hir interesting reading tomorrow. Meanwhile, s/he had a lovely new Hermat to play with.

  It was all so familiar and sweet, much like Burgoyne’s adolescence, that s/he didn’t realize what was happening until it faded away….

  Burgoyne was sitting in someone’s quarters. The moving stars in the window indicated it was a spaceship. The bedcovers were twisted together, and the scattered padds, disks, clothing, and containers indicated that the inhabitant wasn’t too picky about cleanliness. That meant it wasn’t Burgoyne’s quarters, because s/he would never be able to live in such a mess.

  This time Burgoyne knew that something was wrong. S/he had been on Hermat with a lover. Before that s/he was experimenting with the stasis field on Sharanna’s pendant. The chronometric particles must be leaking from the diagnostic unit, because s/he was hallucinating again.

  “How about later, when we get off duty?” someone called as the shower turned off.

  “What?” Burgoyne tried to snap out of the vision by pure will, but that no longer seemed to work.

  A youthful blond head poked around the screen. He looked every inch an ensign, fresh out of Starfleet Academy. “I said, how about tonight? Dinner in the mess?”

  Burgoyne didn’t know the guy, but it felt familiar. His wide-open eyes were reeling in amazement. Apparently this was his first sexual experience with someone who broke all physical boundaries. Burgoyne was used to being desired because s/he was exotic. It made hir feel special to know that lovers never forgot hir. This lover was obviously still panting with eagerness to find out what other remarkable things s/he could do in bed. He was one of many young ensigns who were exploring the galaxy in their own special way.

  “Sure, why not?” Burgoyne felt compelled to say, as s/he did whenever s/he was in that situation. S/he had agreed to have dinner with Sharanna back on Argelius II, and look what happened then….

  Burgoyne was back on Hermat, reclining in the baths. S/he could tell it was one of the larger settlements, because of the old frescoed walls and the variety of shallow cold and hot pools stretching into the greenish gloom. It was evening and the trees around the open baths shaded the last lingering light.

  When s/he moved, pain shot into hir arms and down hir legs. It wasn’t an injury, as s/he soon discovered, but a general stiffness in hir joints and muscles. S/he stopped fighting it and lay back in the soothing warm water.

  In the back of hir mind, s/he knew s/he was hallucinating. S/he had just been on a starship, and before that running across Hermat. But it felt so real. S/he really was an aged Hermat who had come back to die among hir own people.

  A tumble of prepubescent children poured into the baths. It was one of the child gangs that roamed Hermat. They must have chosen this settlement as their stopping ground for tonight. Some gangs would stay for weeks, while others would move on the next day. It depended on what the kids wanted to do. If it was surfing, they went to the beach. If it was climbing, they went to the mountains. Children grew up quicker on Hermat than anywhere else.

  Burgoyne fondly watched the dozen or so young Hermats as they splashed into the baths among the adults. S/he wasn’t the only one who indulgently let the young ones disrupt the calm of hir pool. S/he loved to see them rub their shiny wet bodies together, already engaging in the ancient dance that would lead to sex when they were old enough.

  Laughter, fun, and sex had long been Burgoyne’s motto. S/he’d had a full lifetime of lovers, more than s/he could remember. Even though s/he knew it wasn’t really happening, it seemed like a fitting end for an old Starfleet codger to sit in the baths and watch the newest generation play….

  The visions kept changing, one after the other endlessly. More lovers in strange places, on planets Burgoyne had never seen, on ships s/he had never heard of. Always more sex, fun, and laughter. Throughout it all, s/he knew that s/he belonged back on Excalibur.

  But the visions kept coming. Most of them involved relationships with a bewildering variety of aliens, each with their own unique sexual passions. S/he knew that Sharanna had no idea how effective her revenge would be.

  Commander Shelby appeared in the door to the diagnostic room. When Burgoyne didn’t answer her calls, the computer gave Shelby hir location. “Lieutenant, we were supposed to have a meeting to finalize these maintenance schedules—”

  Burgoyne was sitting stock-still in front of the diagnostic unit, staring at the screen.

  “Burgoyne?” Shelby asked. But the Hermat didn’t respond. Hir eyes were fixed open. Hir arms were rigid and hir head didn’t move. Even hir breathing seemed shallow.

  The diagram on the screen of the unit showed a cylinder. It took a moment before Shelby realized it was that pretty souvenir Burgoyne had brought back from Argelius II. The filigreed silver casing seemed delicate in the clamp, but the rapidly scrolling readout indicated there was furious activity happening inside the diagnostic unit.

  Shelby’s hand hit her combadge. “Captain, we have a problem in engineering!”

  After too many visions to count, Burgoyne fell into one that was familiar. S/he was back in the windowed house that looked out on distant, barren mountains. Except now, the sky was lit with orange and red neon fire. At first Burgoyne thought it was a battle. Then s/he realized it was a sunset. It looked too lurid to be real, but the colors gradually changed and intensified as the sun disappeared.

  Burgoyne went toward the adjoining room to see hir shadowy mate. Her back was facing Burgoyne, but this time when the woman spoke s/he could hear her. “The optimum boiling time is different depending on your elevation.”

  Now Burgoyne was sure it wasn’t Sharanna. The cadence of her voice was different, cool, and detached, whereas Sharanna could barely contain her emotions.

  Burgoyne went forward, but s/he somehow knew that s/he coul
dn’t simply put hir arms around this woman. She needed to be wooed carefully.

  It wasn’t real, but Burgoyne tried to hold on to the moment. Before s/he thought it was boring and stifling, but after that never-ending whirl of visions with one person after the other, it felt safe and comforting. It was easier for hir to stand near this woman and know that s/he didn’t have to search for the next lover, and the next one, and the next one. This woman accepted hir for who s/he was, and had chosen to be with hir.

  Burgoyne closed hir eyes and took a deep breath, relaxing in the security of love, rejecting the frenetic excitement of variety. S/he felt hirself slipping, as if being drawn into another vision, but s/he resisted. S/he wanted to stay right where s/he was. The feeling expanded and lingered for a long time—

  “Burgoyne!” Commander Shelby exclaimed.

  A hand caught Burgoyne’s shoulder as s/he started to slump. S/he was back in the diagnostic room.

  “Lieutenant, are you all right?” Shelby asked anxiously.

  Burgoyne brushed hir forehead, feeling hir eyeballs scratching against hir lids. “What happened?”

  “I found you here when you didn’t show up for our meeting this morning.”

  A medic was on the other side, passing the tricorder over hir skull and chest. “There’s no permanent physical damage. Your vital signs are normalizing. But you should get up and move around, Lieutenant. It looks like you’ve been sitting here for hours.”

  Burgoyne stumbled as s/he stood up and had to grab on to Shelby’s arm to steady hirself. “Thanks.”

  “We shut off the antiproton beam,” Shelby explained, “and encapsulated the stray chronometric particles within a stasis bubble. They should decay in a week or so.” She gestured to the mobile stasis unit. “What were you trying to do, Lieutenant?”

  Burgoyne glanced at the diagnostic unit, where one of the other engineering assistants was carefully removing the pendant from the clamp. “I wanted to find out how the stasis field worked.”

  The engineering assistant aimed her tricorder at the cylinder. “It doesn’t work anymore. You must have broken it.”

  Burgoyne took the pendant, almost afraid to look into it again. But it was different now, darkened and inert. It no longer flashed rainbow colors. All that was left of the crystal was a spiky mesh framework. “The particles must have been released. That means the stasis field was powered by them. That’s not much use to us.”

  “Next time work with a partner when you experiment, Lieutenant,” Shelby told hir with a pat on the arm. “For now, I think we need to reschedule that meeting.”

  “The lieutenant should go stretch a bit, then rest,” the medic agreed, packing up his gear. “Let me know if you have any problems.”

  Burgoyne thanked them again and quickly retreated, hoping to avoid the chief engineer, who would surely ask too many questions. S/he was still clutching the cylinder in hir fist when s/he reached hir quarters. Part of hir hoped it would flare to life again, but it remained dim.

  News of hir nighttime experiment would spread throughout the ship by tomorrow. S/he would get a laugh or two, but it wouldn’t be taken seriously. Burgoyne knew s/he couldn’t tell anyone what had happened. It was too private.

  It also made hir wonder if maybe Commander Shelby wasn’t the only one who had snapped hir out of it. Burgoyne was sure that final vision was important. It had gone on for much longer than the others. And hir feelings no longer seemed absurd. That unceasing round of lovers had gotten as monotonous as a driving beat, while the one lone scene of hir standing close to hir partner had felt good.

  Maybe it wasn’t so outrageous. After all, Burgoyne had always chosen to do the unexpected, and what would be more unexpected than for hir to fall in love?

  CALHOUN & SHELBY

  A Little Getaway

  Peter David

  After the destruction of the Ambassador-class U.S.S. Excalibur, Captain Calhoun was believed killed. When he returned alive and well, he asked Captain Shelby to marry him, which she accepted after belting him. Before he took command of the new Galaxy-class Excalibur, and before Shelby took over the Trident, the two of them went on their honeymoon. “A Little Getaway” is the story of that happy occasion…

  Peter David

  Peter David is still at large.

  “We’re going to Xenex?”

  Newlywed Elizabeth Shelby had been looking forward to an increase in the quality and frequency of communication with her longtime love, sparring partner, rival, and commanding officer, Mackenzie Calhoun. They were, after all, husband and wife, married in a ceremony officiated by Jean-Luc Picard that could be called, at best, impromptu, on the bridge of Calhoun’s once and future command, the Excalibur.

  The truth was that every fragment of Shelby’s common sense had warned her that marrying Calhoun was folly. But, hell, the man had literally come back from the dead to ask for her hand in marriage. How could any woman, any person, with a fragment of romance in their soul, walk away from a situation such as that?

  Very easily if she had any brains, Shelby was starting to think.

  Calhoun, after having undergone a debriefing so that Starfleet knew exactly what his whereabouts had been during the time he’d been believed dead, had been given two weeks’ time to rest, recuperate, and honeymoon with his brand-new bride. (“During which time, Shelby will no doubt repeatedly debrief him as well,” Kat Mueller had deadpanned, a comment that had gotten puzzled looks from some crewmen and guffaws from others.) Calhoun owned a state-of-the-art runabout, which had been moved to the new Excalibur, almost in a sort of in memoriam gesture. So it was conveniently there when the happy couple required it.

  Crew members had assembled on the holodeck, armed with handfuls of rice to be thrown, a tradition that was incomprehensible to Calhoun, who thought it represented a collective desire that they put more fiber in their diet. Shelby had explained that it represented a hope for fertility, which had sent Calhoun into such spasms of laughter that she wished she’d said that yes, it represented fiber. For his part, Picard had taken the opportunity to make reservations for them at the resort world of Risa, generously offering to pick up the cost as a present to the newlyweds. So Risa was, naturally, where Shelby was anticipating they were going to go.

  That anticipation took an abrupt U-turn when she saw the coordinates Calhoun had entered into the nav computer and the intended destination.

  “We’re going to Xenex?” It was the second time she’d said it, because Calhoun had simply nodded the first time.

  “That’s what I was hoping,” said Calhoun. “Well, my love…let’s fire up the engines and not keep all the nice folks waiting for our depart—”

  “Hold it!” Shelby said, standing. “Nothing’s getting fired up, Mac, including you on our wedding night tonight, until you explain this. Xenex? Your homeworld?”

  “It’s the only Xenex I know of.”

  “Why?” she demanded.

  He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have assumed. I mean, it would only add a day to the trip, but it wasn’t a given that—”

  “Spare me the halfhearted apologies, Calhoun. What’s going on?” She leaned against the console, her arms folded, clearly not backing down.

  “All right…look,” said Calhoun. “I know that Picard conducted the ceremony, and in the eyes of the Federation and Starfleet it’s all legal, proper, aboveboard…”

  “But…?” she prompted.

  “But…I am Xenexian. Before I was Starfleet…before I was anything…I was, and am, Xenexian.”

  “I know that, Mac,” she said, beginning to have a suspicion what the problem was. “And I know it hasn’t always been easy for you, balancing the heritage and upbringing you have with the man that your time in Starfleet has made you become.” She reached over and ruffled his hair affectionately. Then she glanced at the view on the monitor. The folks outside were looking impatient. “Okay, so…Xenex…”

  “In the eyes of Xenexian society,” s
aid Calhoun, “our marriage wouldn’t be considered legal. We would need to be married in a ceremony conducted by the village shaman. Otherwise, I’d feel like…” Then he stopped and shook his head. “But this isn’t your problem, Eppy. You’re looking forward to the honeymoon, and you’ve taken such a leap of faith in marrying me already. This is my problem, not yours, and if the Federation considers us married, that should be all that matters….”

  “But it’s not,” Shelby said. “What matters to you, Mac, matters to me. That’s what being married is all about. You’ve made it clear it’s important to you, and all the backtracking you’re now trying to do, out of consideration for me…well, it’s sweet because it is being considerate of me, but it’s unnecessary. I feel good about our being married, Mac. No…I feel great about it. And I don’t want there to be any impediment to your feeling great about it as well. And it’s one day. One day out of the rest of our married life. Besides, let’s face facts: Being married won’t be easy. We’ll be spending a good portion of our time apart, in separate commands. I want our bonds to be as strong as possible, and if that means having a second ceremony on Xenex, I’m all for it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” She smiled.

  A minute later, the runabout lifted off, and the crew members pelted the vessel with rice as it headed for the forcefield door. It eased through the field, the atmosphere in the shuttlebay staying neatly intact behind it.

  The moment they were gone, Zak Kebron said loudly, “All right. Taking bets as to how long it will last.”

  Activity was fast and furious.

  It had been many years since Shelby had set foot on Xenex, and it was every bit as hot and uninviting as she remembered. But Calhoun was grinning ear to ear the moment they disembarked from the runabout, and that alone was enough to make her smile as well. Then again, they’d had a festive and very active wedding night, so it seemed natural that he’d been in an exceedingly good mood. She thought it was sweet the way he kept reaching over, touching her hand or her shoulder, especially since he’d never been that much of a touchy-feely person before. When she’d made an observation about his attitude, he’d simply said, “It helps me to believe you’re actually here.” That seemed even sweeter.