by Peter David
ii.
“What’s going on?” said Burgoyne as s/he walked out onto the bridge.
Matters had calmed down slightly from when s/he had previously returned from hir temporary exile to the turbo-lift. Everyone had still been trying to process what had just happened, while the Excalibur chugged away from New Thallon with all the alacrity of a crippled snail.
Now everyone was back to business, attempting to deal as best they could with the hand that had been dealt them. Every so often, though, they would cast poisonous glances at the dealer: Morgan’s little present of her afterimage, sitting there as a phantom reminder of who was really in charge.
“We still don’t have any outgoing communications capability,” Kebron informed hir. “But I’m picking up incoming chatter, and none of it’s good.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that Starfleet has been informed of our unwilling assault on Xenex.”
“Except to them, it wasn’t unwilling, but instead a deliberate act of murder,” Burgoyne said grimly.
“That’s more or less accurate.”
At that moment, Tobias called out, “Burgy! I’ve got helm control again.”
This was the first piece of good news that Burgoyne had heard in an hour. “Excellent. What did you do?”
“Nothing. I mean, I kept trying to do things,” she said, “but none of it was having any effect. And suddenly I’m in full control.”
“Well, that’s good,” Xy said to his father.
“Actually, I wish I knew whether it was good or not,” said Burgoyne warily. “For the moment, we’re not going to knock it. Tobias, set course for Xenex, at—and please don’t laugh—best possible speed.”
“Impulse is all I’ve got.”
“Then that’s what you should use.”
She did as ordered. She didn’t have to ask why they were heading for Xenex. None of them did; Burgoyne had already explained to them what had happened to their captain, and now it was just a matter of hoping that he was still there when they returned for him. Assuming, of course, that they were able to get to him at all.
That was when Kebron said, “Commander. We have company.”
“Battle stations,” said Burgoyne, not even waiting for any specifics. S/he already knew what was about to happen. “Shields up. Kebron, show me what we’re dealing with.”
The screen image of space flickered and moments later, they could see a ship hurtling toward them. It was smaller than they were, but more maneuverable.
“A Thallonian battleship. She’s powering up. We’re targeted,” said Kebron.
Burgoyne thought furiously. This wasn’t some random opponent who was coming after the Excalibur because of some misplaced grudge. These people considered the starship to be the enemy, and with good reason. The Excalibur was far more powerful than the oncoming vessel and capable of blowing it out of space, but that wasn’t the route that Burgoyne wanted to pursue.
At that moment, the Thallonian battleship cut loose. The Excalibur shuddered from the impact as the red alert sirens wailed around them.
“Minor damage to port shields,” Kebron told him, and he added sardonically, “Apparently they’re not planning to give us the opportunity to surrender.”
Burgoyne crossed quickly to the science station. “Bring me up the schematics on that ship,” s/he ordered. Xy quickly did as he was bidden and, moments later, Burgoyne was studying the layout for the ship that was trying to destroy them. The starship shuddered once more from another blast against them, but the shields held steady.
“Bring us around, Tobias,” said Burgoyne. “Come straight at them.”
“At them? I mean, yes, Commander.”
The Excalibur, with not much speed at its command, made a leisurely turn and headed straight at the Thallonian battleship. The battleship went into reverse as the far larger starship advanced.
Burgoyne touched the point on the screen that he wanted targeted and said, “Kebron! Feeding the target through to you now! Think you can hit it?”
“Of course,” rumbled Kebron, sounding offended that there seemed to be any doubt on the subject. The schematics came up on his tactical display and he methodically laid in the targeting for the phasers. “Target acquired and locked.”
“Fire phasers.”
“Fire phasers, aye.”
The shielding of the smaller vessel coruscated as the beams lanced into them, and for a few moments actually managed to hold their own. But then the shields crumbled against the superior firepower of the Excalibur, and the phasers cut into the weapons banks of the battleship. The smaller vessel shook under the barrage and skewed to starboard as it tried to get away.
“Track them. Stay with them,” said Burgoyne.
“I’m on it,” Kebron assured hir.
With the combination of Tobias’s maneuvering and Kebron’s marksmanship, the phaser beams moved in tandem with the battleship. Explosions raked the lower sections of the vessel as the energy cells fueling the Thallonian weapons erupted.
“Cease fire. Any hull breaches?” said Burgoyne.
Kebron double-checked his sensors. “Nothing that I’m picking up. She’s still intact.”
“Aspect ratio change. They’re peeling off, Commander,” said Tobias.
“Good. They’ll keep going if they know what’s good for them.”
Suddenly Tobias looked around from her station. “Burgy!” she said, so excited that she dropped the more formal rank address she’d been employing. “We’ve got warp speed!”
Burgoyne was astounded. It couldn’t be that simple. That didn’t deter hir from calling out, “Resume course for Xenex! Warp nine!”
Tobias tried to comply, but a few moments later she uttered an angry profanity. Normally she would have apologized instantly for the language, but there was hardly anything normal about what they were dealing with. “We only have warp one,” she said once she had gotten over her initial fury. “That’s it. That’s all she’ll give me.”
The use of the pronoun “she” was typically used to refer to a ship, but in this instance, everyone on the bridge knew the “she” that Tobias was talking about.
Burgoyne considered it and immediately understood. “It’s a reward,” s/he said angrily.
“A what?” Kebron didn’t get it, and Burgoyne could see by the confused looks that nobody else on the bridge did either.
“A reward,” s/he said again. “We beat an opponent and so, like we’re animals learning a new trick, she’s giving us a treat. Isn’t that right, Morgan? Isn’t that right? Plus you want to try and make it a little more sporting, because you know that—in the event we should happen to last long enough to get out of Thallonian space—then we’re going to have Starfleet to contend with. And they’re going to be gunning for us too. Feel free to tell me if I’m getting close.”
Morgan didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. Burgoyne knew s/he was right.
With an angry snarl, Burgoyne turned away and stormed into the captain’s ready room. The door hissed shut behind hir, cutting hir off from the rest of the crew. It was what s/he needed: just a few moments to compose hirself.
S/he suddenly found hirself wishing that Selar was here, and s/he had no idea why that would be.
Burgoyne looked at Calhoun’s sword, the one that he kept mounted on the wall behind his desk. The captain probably drew comfort and confidence from it. What did Burgoyne have to lean on?
The door hissed open without anyone asking permission, which was a breach of protocol. Xy entered and, as the door closed behind him, said, “Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?” said Burgoyne, trying to keep the weariness from hir voice.
“It’s all right to be concerned under the circumstances. The captain is missing, the ship is out of control…”
“I’m not supposed to be here, Xy.”
Xy looked confused. “What?”
“Here. In here, in command. I tried to tell the captain that when he promoted me. I’m an eng
ineer. That’s where I should have stayed. I’m no Mackenzie Calhoun.”
“You don’t have to be,” said Xy. “You’re as brave and resourceful as anyone I’ve ever met. There’s no reason for you to doubt any of that.”
“I know.” Burgoyne closed hir eyes. “I know there should be no reason. And I’m not sure why I’m feeling this way. It’s like… I don’t know what it’s like. Like I’m disconnected from myself. Why am I feeling this way?”
“I don’t know, Dad. All I know is that you need to keep yourself together for the crew.”
“I can. I will. You don’t need to worry about that. There’s plenty more things for us to worry about than my state of mind.”
“Dad…” Xy paused and then said, “Are we going to make it?”
“You mean are we going to be able to get clear of Thallonian space and get all the way back to Xenex, moving at warp one, with Starfleet coming after us, no means of telling them what’s happening, trying to defend ourselves using only nonlethal means, and a berserk computer entity in charge of the ship?”
“Yes.”
Burgoyne studied him with a deadpan. “I love this plan. I don’t see how it can possibly fail.”
The Spectre
i.
Soleta studied the messages that were coming over subspace. She checked them and rechecked them. She looked over everything that she was picking up from the open channels, and then used her ship’s espionage capabilities to tap into the secure channels that no one outside of Starfleet was supposed to be able to access.
She couldn’t believe any of it. None of it made any sense.
It was a deep, knotty problem that would have left just about anyone else scratching their heads and wondering what in the world could possibly be happening on the Excalibur and what was going through Calhoun’s mind.
Soleta required five entire seconds to figure it out. In retrospect, she would wonder why in the world it took her that long.
Moments later both Seven and the Doctor had responded to her summons to the bridge. They had been inspecting the interior of the stealth ship, amazed and fascinated by what they were seeing since neither of them had ever been in any Romulan vessel before, much less a one-of-a-kind stealth vessel. “Your ship is very impressive,” Seven began, but then she saw the look on Soleta’s face. Even though she was part Romulan and had shaken off much of the Vulcan training that would have kept her irrevocably stoic, it was still evident that something had gone wrong. “What happened?” said Seven.
“A ton of chatter claiming that the Excalibur launched an unprovoked attack on New Thallon and then fled the scene.”
“Is that likely?” asked the Doctor.
“I wouldn’t just say it’s unlikely. I would say it’s flat out impossible,” Soleta said firmly. “There is no way Captain Calhoun attacks for no reason.”
“Then perhaps,” said Seven, “it was not Captain Calhoun who did it.”
“I reached the same conclusion.”
The Doctor, on the other hand, was a bit slower to comprehend. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting, Doctor,” Soleta said pointedly, “that the computer entity you’ve been defending—the one against whom you’re reluctant to take any action—has taken over the ship and murdered who knows how many people. The one to whom you’re clearly willing to give the benefit of the doubt—”
“And are you not quick to do the same for Captain Calhoun?” the Doctor replied. “You reject out of hand the notion that he might have had some manner of… I don’t know, a mental breakdown.”
“Yes. I do reject that notion. Because I know him. How well do you know Morgan?”
“Not at all,” he was forced to admit.
“No. Not at all. You’re just anxious to make as many allowances for her as possible because you think she’s just like you. But she’s not, Doctor,” said Soleta, hammering home the point. “She’s no more like you than a mass murderer is like me. And the sooner you come to the conclusion that computer entities are just as capable of being total bastards as living beings, the better off we’re all going to be.”
“Soleta,” Seven said sharply, catching her attention. “That’s enough. You’ve made your point.”
“Have I?”
Rather than Seven answering her, the Doctor did so. “Yes, you have. Repeatedly. You think it obvious that Morgan is responsible for this because she is a heartless machine, and only a heartless machine would be capable of such an action. No human, in the history of life, has ever committed an unprovoked attack.”
“Mackenzie Calhoun isn’t human,” said Soleta. “Neither am I. Whether Xenexians have ever engaged in unwarranted attacks, I couldn’t say. I know that Vulcans, long ago in their history, did. And that Romulans did so far more recently than that. In this case, though… at this time, in this instance… logic dictates that the entity calling itself Morgan Primus is responsible rather than Captain Calhoun. And we need to stop her. And I need to know, right now, if we can count on you or if we can’t. We have a real situation with real consequences if we don’t get the job done. Right now, Doctor: Where do you stand? With your loyalties to virtual beings? Or to us?”
“You.”
“Because this is no longer something theoretical. This is…” She stopped and looked briefly surprised before she composed herself. “Oh.”
“Yes,” said the Doctor primly. “I thought I would save us some time and not have to listen to another one of your lengthy, sanctimonious diatribes.”
“Sanctimonious? Really?”
“Really.”
“I was simply trying to—”
He put up a hand. “I think it would be preferable if we did not rehash the previous discussions and instead focused on what needs to be dealt with.” Since he had apparently resolved his course of action, he seemed to be all business.
“I agree,” said Seven, casting a glance at the Doctor. “We need to track down the Excalibur if we’re going to implement the plan. The question is, how do we find her?”
“That actually shouldn’t be a problem,” said Soleta. “Subspace is alive with chatter—last known sightings and such—and it’s only going to increase the longer this goes on. Which means it’s simply going to get easier. I’ll run it through my computer systems and use it to triangulate the information. Locate them in that manner.”
The Doctor frowned. “But if you are able to accomplish that, will not others be able to find them in the same manner?”
“Not immediately,” she said. “Different groups treat such information in a proprietary manner. The Thallonians are a prideful people and are determined to get the Excalibur themselves. Meantime, Starfleet is likely to keep as much information as possible close to the vest. Fortunately,” and she didn’t exactly smile but she came close, “Starfleet isn’t quite as impervious to some creative eavesdropping as it would like to believe, especially from one of their former officers. In addition to being able to zero in on a supposedly renegade ship such as the Excalibur, I can track the comings and goings of just about every ship in the fleet.”
“For some reason I find that very disturbing,” said Seven.
“I can think of several reasons,” said the Doctor.
“Best not to dwell on them, then,” Soleta advised. “However, we can’t count on others locating the Excalibur taking an indefinite amount of time. So we’re going to have to move quickly… as soon as we’ve made a stop.”
The Doctor and Seven exchanged confused glances, as if they had both wandered into the middle of someone else’s conversation. “We’re making a stop?” said Seven.
“Yes.”
“May I ask where?”
Soleta studied her for a moment and then said, “I think it would be best if I keep all information on this matter on a need-to-know basis.”
“Excuse me,” said Seven, her voice rising. “I have made tremendous leaps of faith based upon the things you’ve told me. I find it disturbing that you do not feel
a need to reciprocate.”
“It has nothing to do with reciprocation. We have no idea who is watching, or if, or when, or what’s being heard. It could be nothing, it could be everything, and either way, anything I say aloud is one less piece of information that I’m unable to keep completely off the grid. There is a very old saying: Just because you are paranoid does not mean they are not out to get you.” The severity of her expression soft ened. “Look… the truth is that I have brought the two of you into a very dangerous situation. And you have willingly come into it out of a sense of duty to the Federation, even,” and she looked at the Doctor, “when it ran counter to deeply held beliefs. With that understood, it’s my responsibility to do whatever is within my power to protect you as much as possible.”
“We do not need your protection,” said Seven. “We are perfectly capable of protecting ourselves.”
“I believe you,” said Soleta, “but that doesn’t mean I abrogate my responsibility. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a ship to run.”
She then turned and headed for the navigation station to lay in a course and head to her destination as fast as the Spectre would get them there. When she turned around to look back at Seven and the Doctor, they were gone.
ii.
Seven had been interested in remaining on the bridge and continuing to argue the point with Soleta. But the Doctor had turned and walked out without a word, and she immediately followed him. She trailed him down the hallway and he didn’t seem in any hurry to slow down. She called after him and, when he still didn’t slow, practically shouted his name. This prompted him to turn and stop and regard her as if he were staring at her from the top of a mountain.
“Yes?” he said.
She stopped and realized only belatedly that she hadn’t actually come up with anything to say to him. She simply felt the need to engage him in conversation.
He stared at her, waiting.
“Thank you,” she said finally.
His expression didn’t change. “You’re welcome.”
He started to turn away from her again and this time she came forward and rested her hand on his arm. The Doctor looked down at it, mild surprise flickering across his face.
