Fire On High (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

by Peter David

  "That's a very charming story," Soleta commented.

  "Is it remotely relevant?"

  "It might be in one respect." He held the disk up. "The book carried with it illustrations that were reproductions of the tale done in ancient times. And I could swear that Imtempho was always pictured wearing an emblem quite similar to this around his neck, like a medallion."

  "I see," Soleta said slowly. She considered it a moment, and then said, "Very well, Ambassador. Thank you for your time."

  "My pleasure. I wish I could be of more help to you than simply recounting an old children's story."

  She nodded thoughtfully and headed out the door. It took her a moment to realize that Robin Lefler had fallen into step beside her and was accompanying her down the corridor. She looked questioningly at Lefler, who said, almost defensively, "I'm heading back to Ops."

  "Of course you are," said Soleta reasonably.

  They stepped into the turbolift, the door hissing shut behind them. "Bridge," Soleta said.

  "Soleta…" Robin said after a moment.

  "Yes?"

  "May I ask your opinion about a personal matter?"

  Soleta stared at her.

  "Computer, stop lift," Soleta said immediately. The car promptly halted and she turned to face a puzzled Lefler. "Love?"

  "What?"

  "Is this about love?"

  "Well, yes."

  "Mm-hmm. Let me guess: Si Cwan."

  Lefler blinked in surprise. "How did you know?"

  "Process of elimination. Marry him."

  "Soleta!" Robin laughed in a very uncomfortable manner. "It's a little more complicated than that."

  "No, it's not."

  "But I don't think he even knows I'm alive!"

  "Lieutenant, if you marry him and he still doesn't know you're alive, then you have bigger problems than I could possibly solve."

  "Soleta, for God's sake! I thought you'd understand! I mean, you were responsible for getting Si Cwan on the ship in the first place, and you met him years ago when he spared your life, and you saved my life on Thallon, so I just felt as if you'd be a good person to talk to about this because I feel you have a, you know…"

  "Connection, yes. That is becoming painfully apparent to me. If I had any more connections, I'd have my own subspace radio frequency. Lieutenant, look, it is not as if I am unsympathetic. Well, actually, I am unsympathetic by this point, but you should not take that personally."

  "I'll try not to," Robin said uncertainly.

  "Marry him, don't marry him. Tell him how you feel, don't tell him how you feel. Sort out your problems, throw yourself into his arms, tease him, taunt him, decide he is not right for you or that he is perfect for you. I do not care. It is not my problem. It is not my specialty. It is not my area."

  "Soleta, I thought we were friends." Robin said, sounding a bit hurt.

  "I am aware of that, Robin, and understand that I am not averse to the notion. However, if we are indeed friends, you will then be willing to be sympathetic when I say that I really, truly, do not wish to discuss these matters. Will you honor my request?"

  "Well, sure. I guess."

  "Thank you. Computer, resume lift operation."

  The turbolift promptly continued on its way to the bridge, and they rode most of the rest of the way in silence. But just before they got to the bridge, Lefler turned to Soleta and said, "Are you going into that Vulcan heat thing?"

  Soleta turned and stared at her with undisguised incredulity. "What?"

  "It's just that you seem awfully testy."

  Soleta tried to find words but, uncharacteristically, they eluded her. She settled for holding her tongue as she stepped off the turbolift. She drifted toward the science station, slowing only as she passed Zak Kebron. He looked at her with vague curiosity. "Problem, Soleta?" he asked in a low voice.

  "Is it my imagination, Kebron," Soleta asked slowly, "or is everyone on this vessel preoccupied with romance?"

  "Not me."

  "No?" she asked.

  "I don't need romance," Zak Kebron told her confidently. "I have goldfish."

  Soleta wisely didn't pursue it.

  VIII

  THE DIPLOMATIC RECEPTION CHAMBER of the Momidiums was scaled to accommodate Momidium needs, as was indeed most of the other furniture and architectural design of the place. Nonetheless, it was still a rather impressive structure, and Shelby found the Momidiums themselves a rather pleasant people, easy to get along with… even if they did remind her a bit of slugs.

  Once the Excalibur had settled into orbit around the planet, Shelby, Si Cwan, Selar, Lefler, and Zak Kebron had beamed down to the planet's surface at the coordinates provided. Kebron, as was his habit, spent most of the time looking around suspiciously and trying to determine if there was anyone hiding who might be prepared to spring out and launch a trap. Si Cwan, for his part, immediately fell into easy conversation with Cudsuttle, the head of extraterrestrial relations.

  "I'll be blunt, Ambassador," said Cudsuttle. "I never had much patience with, or use for, the rest of your clan. But you were of a very different stripe, and I was pleased to learn that you had survived the insurrection. Rumor has it that you seek the whereabouts of your sister as well."

  "The rumors are quite correct," allowed Si Cwan.

  "I hope for the best, then, for her and for you," said Cudsuttle. "Commander Shelby, you have a good man here," he said, nodding approvingly toward Si Cwan. "You should take care not to lose him."

  "We're very aware of that, sir, and have no intention of losing track of him," Shelby assured him. "So, I understand we can be of help to each other. Dr. Selar here is more than willing to get together with your medical personnel immediately to run tests on this vaccine of yours. With any luck, we'll be able to verify its fitness for use in … three hours, was it, Doctor?"

  Selar nodded. "I believe that is what Dr. Maxwell said. In fact, he tends to be conservative in his estimates, so we may very well be able to handle it more quickly."

  "Excellent. And you wished help from an agricultural specialist regarding an irrigation system."

  "Correct, Commander. Will that person be forthcoming?"

  "You're looking at her," Shelby said. "Believe it or not, Cudsuttle, I grew up on a farm. I doubt there's anyone on the ship more experienced in these matters than I am. I'll be more than happy to give you whatever guidance I can."

  "That is most kind of you. And we will be happy to escort Ambassador Cwan and Lieutenant Lefler to the Primus prisoner."

  "Why did you hold her?"

  The question came from Robin and, unlike the quite cordial tone of voice that was the norm up until that point, she sounded tense, almost angry.

  "I beg your pardon?" asked Cudsuttle politely.

  Seeing potential for problems, Shelby stepped in quickly. "The lieutenant was simply asking, in a rather intense fashion," she noted in a warning tone that was not lost on Lefler, "why precisely the woman, Morgan Primus, was held here, particularly for so long. Did you believe her to be a spy and, if so, what exactly was she spying on?"

  "You mean are we hiding something of interest?" Cudsuttle said, sounding rather amused at the concept.

  "Something like that," Shelby replied guardedly.

  "Would that we were that devious a people, Commander. We might have gotten farther than we have in galactic politics. No, I am afraid it's nothing quite as intriguing as that. It was simple caution. We were not concerned that she was spying on us so much as that she might be some sort of provocateur or emissary for an alien race, out to stir up trouble. We Momidiums are a peaceful people, Commander. We do not seek out problems, either within our own sphere or with powerful potential opponents such as the Thallonians. Perhaps she was an enemy of the Thallonians. Perhaps she wished us harm. We did not know for certain, and we did not desire to take the chance. All we knew is that she showed up on our world, asked a goodly number of questions regarding ancient artifacts, and violated one of the basic laws of Thallonian
rule, which was: No out-worlders. Based upon all of that, we didn't so much make her a prisoner as take her into protective custody."

  "Her protection," asked Si Cwan, "or yours?"

  "A bit of both, I daresay," admitted Cudsuttle. "In any event, that time is now gone. She is yours to do with as you will. I officially release her to Captain Calhoun, with you serving as his representative. Kurdwurble!" he called, and from the sound of that Si Cwan momentarily thought that he had something caught in his throat. But a moment later another Momidium emerged from nearby. "This is Kurdwurble," Cudsuttle said by way of introduction. "He will bring you to her."

  "Right this way," Kurdwurble said, gesturing for them to follow.

  "Ambassador," Lefler said suddenly, "perhaps it'd be best if you accompanied the commander. I'm certain I can handle this on my own."

  "Lieutenant—" Si Cwan began.

  "I'm certain that I can," Lefler repeated, and her glance took in everyone in the away team, but most particularly Shelby, in a manner that could almost be considered to be challenging. It was as if she was saying, I have to do this myself Please don't mix in.

  As if in silent acknowledgment, Shelby nodded. "Very well, Lieutenant. And good luck."

  "Thank you," she said, adding silently, I'll need it.

  * * *

  Morgan Primus was sitting squarely in the middle of her quarters, her hands resting in her lap. Except for a slight rise and fall of her chest, she might have been mistaken for a statue. At her feet were her packed bags, which didn't contain all that much since she had not arrived on Momidium with an excess of luggage. She had, after all, been trying to travel light.

  She heard a soft footfall approaching the suite of rooms that had been her prison for all these years, and even though they were the footsteps of someone she'd never known as an adult, she was still able to recognize them. She braced herself, knowing that she was going to have to manage with all her strength to hold herself together. She was bound and determined not to let the slightest weakness show through.

  Robin stepped into view in the entranceway.

  They stared at each other. Simply stared. Morgan wanted to say something, wanted to explain. She was ready for the outpouring of anger and vituperation, prepared to handle questions although she had every intention of being as vague as possible about many of the replies. She was ready for the cold stare, the icy assessment, a bellow of rage fueled by pain, a shout of disbelief, a continuation of the earlier transmission. Hell, for all she knew, Robin would be so infuriated that she would simply pull out a phaser and start shooting. Stranger things had happened, certainly. A crime of passion, that's what they'd call it. Any board of inquiry in the world would look the situation over and simply pronounce it temporary insanity. They wouldn't immediately put her back in place on a starship, but neither would they stick her in a camp for the rest of her life.

  What she was not prepared for, in all of that, was the simple flat stare that greeted her. There was no emotion in her eyes. She might just as easily have been a Vulcan meeting a total stranger for the first time.

  Morgan realized that Robin was going to wait for her to say something. Stubborn little thing, that Robin. Probably got it from her mother. Well, there was no use for it. She was going to have to say something, or they might just stand there regarding each other for the rest of the day.

  The silence was fortunately broken by Kurdwurble, who finally felt compelled to ask, "Are you a telepathic race?"

  "What?" asked Morgan.

  "I was just wondering if perhaps you were communicating by thought alone. We Momidiums are limited by our ability to articulate. I thought perhaps between members of your own species…"

  She shook her head.

  "I see," said Kurdwurble, who didn't quite, but he wasn't about to admit it. He shrugged, which for a Momidium was more a sense of one's head sagging down between the shoulders. "Well, none of my affair. Not anymore." He held up a small round electronic device. "Turn around please."

  Morgan did as she was instructed, presenting her back to Kurdwurble, and Kurdwurble placed the device against a small panel on the collar. Morgan felt a slight electronic jolt and then the collar fell away from her, clattering onto the floor deactivated and harmless.

  "You are free to go. It was good speaking with you, Morgan. In another life," he said with that odd shrug again, "who knows what we might have been to each other?"

  "Who knows indeed. Thank you for making it bearable, Kurdwurble."

  He looked to Robin and said, "Be good to her. She is a very special woman." And then, with no further words, he turned and undulated away, leaving the two women once more to their silence.

  "You must have a lot of questions," Morgan finally said, unable to take it anymore.

  "Yes," replied Robin in a voice that bordered on total disinterest. "Are you coming or not?"

  Morgan stared at her incredulously. "That's it?"

  No reply.

  "Robin, let's not kid each other. You must have a million questions. You must have a great deal of anger in you; you certainly made that clear enough in your little love note. So go ahead." She got to her feet and stood there, braced. "Let me have it, right between the eyes. Tell me what's going through your mind."

  Nothing.

  "I see. The silent treatment. That's what it's going to be. All those questions, all that anger and hurt and whatever else tumbling around inside your head, and you're going for the silent treatment. Very mature, Robin," she said sarcastically.

  "I like to think I'm very mature," Robin said in a voice that could have been originating back on Mars. "I had to grow up at a rather early age, what with my parents being dead and all."

  "I'm…" She drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry about your father. I had no way of knowing—"

  "Don't." Robin pointed a finger at her and Morgan could see that it was everything she could do not to let it tremble. The effort she was expending to control herself was having a massive effect on her. "Don't apologize. I can handle anything except that. Because there is no apology in the galaxy that can even begin to cover it, and if you try, Mother, so help me God, if you try, I will snap. Do you understand me? I will snap like a rotting twig. After everything else you've done to me, I would like to think that you'd at least have sufficient compassion not to do that to me as well."

  Slowly Morgan nodded. "All right, Lieutenant." As she was about to leave, she accidentally stepped on the collar that was on the floor where it had fallen. She stooped, picked it up, and turned it over in her hands. "Hard to believe that this is what kept me here all these years."

  "Perhaps they considered saddling you with a child, but they knew that wouldn't be enough to keep you in one place."

  "Cheshire," she turned to face her, "you don't—"

  "Shut up! Don't you dare call me that! You've lostthe privilege, do you understand me? DO YOU?!?"

  The volume, the intensity, the fury of it was so great that Morgan took a step back as if she'd been shoved. Robin had to visibly fight to pull in her fury and then, very quietly, she said, "Come. It's time to go."

  Without a word, Morgan picked up her bags and followed her daughter to freedom.

  * * *

  Calhoun sat on the bridge, watching the planet turning beneath him, and wondered for what was hardly the first time if he hadn't made a mistake. He was so much happier leading away teams than staying on the bridge and allowing others to seize the day. It wasn't that he didn't trust Shelby to do the job; he did. But damn, he missed doing it.

  Then again, he couldn't help but notice that whenever he did get involved with setting foot on planets, disaster seemed to strike. Thus far his two major accomplishments planetside had been having one disintegrate under his feet and being kidnapped while in residence on the other. Neither incident, he felt, was destined to win him any away team performance medals.

  Shelby emerged from the turbolift and Calhoun turned in his chair and looked up at her expectantly. "Well, Commander?" he as
ked.

  "All done, sir," she replied briskly. "I gave them a few pointers on their irrigation system that initial estimates show will improve their harvest yield by nineteen percent. And Dr. Selar reports that their serum checks out. I took the liberty of authorizing our synthesizing of a quantity of it, since the doctor reports that their facilities are, at best, barely adequate and we can accomplish the reproduction of the serum approximately five times faster than they can. Within twenty hours, maximum, this epidemic they're fighting will be completely under control."

  "No sign of civil unrest?" he asked. "No outbreak of war? No one kidnapped? No giant flaming bird appearing on the horizon?"

  "You mean none of the usual stuff, Captain? Nope. This was a horrifyingly simple assignment." She descended the ramp and walked around to her chair… and then hesitated a moment before sitting.

  He caught the movement, or lack thereof, and saw her look at him with just a hint of suspicion. He smiled and shook his head, and said in a very low voice, "We're even, okay? Let's let it go."

  She nodded and sat confidently in her chair. "Now, as to the matter of Morgan Primus—"

  "Yes, I notice that Lefler isn't with you."

  "I've assigned quarters to Primus—or Lefler, or whatever her name is—and Robin is getting her installed there. Kebron is running a security check on her now, but nothing seems to be turning up beyond what Robin already told us. I assume you want to meet with her."

  "As soon as possible," Calhoun said firmly. "Her presence on this ship provides a mystery, and I generally like to have mysteries attended to as quickly as possible."

  "Understood, sir. Conference lounge?"

  "No," he said after a moment's thought. "Captain's ready room. The conference lounge seems more appropriate for an interrogation and, for the moment, let's remain friends."

  "Considering what Lefler's going through," Shelby observed, "that's going to be a trick and a half."