Fire On High (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

by Peter David

  "Captain," McHenry now turned in his chair.

  "We've just received word from the Seidman. She's on her way to the designated rendezvous point and wants to know if we're still going to make that as scheduled."

  "If we're done here, then we certainly are. Set course, Mr. McHenry, warp factor three."

  "Aye, sir."

  Calhoun looked regretfully at Shelby, and she knew what he was thinking. The Seidman was a transport vessel sent by Starfleet to carry away the first two men that had been lost under Calhoun's command. Two security men, a highly dangerous job to be sure, but that didn't make the loss any more palatable. Hecht and Scannell: Hecht was simply dead, and as for Scannell, his mind had been totally destroyed. He writhed in the throes of madness, and although there was some hope for rehabilitation, to achieve that required facilities that were more than the Excalibur had to offer.

  "So soon," he said with clear regret on his face, and she knew precisely what he meant. It seemed far too soon into the mission to lose any crewmen. And she also knew that, no matter what she might say, Calhoun would still hold himself responsible.

  As much as she herself wanted command, there were times when Shelby didn't regret in the least that she had not yet landed in that chair.

  * * *

  Morgan looked around her quarters, unpacking her bags as she did so. She glanced out her view window at the starscape and said, "Stars. Now that's something I didn't think I was ever going to see again." She tore her gaze away from it and looked around the quarters. "Nice to see that guest quarters are still respectable."

  Si Cwan stood nearby, leaning easily against a wall. "Have you been on a starship before?" he asked.

  She paused a moment, and it looked to Si Cwan as if she regretted having said anything. But then she appeared to shrug mentally. "From time to time," she said vaguely. She turned and looked him over from top to bottom. They openly studied each other, and he couldn't help but notice what a handsome woman she was. "So, what do they call you again?"

  "Si Cwan. Ship's ambassador."

  She was momentarily impressed. "The Si Cwan? Of the imperial family?"

  "Formerly."

  "Now serving as a Federation ambassador. My, how times change, don't they?" She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked up at him. "Why are you here, Ambassador?"

  "A variety of reasons, I felt it necessary to return to—"

  "No, I mean why are you here? In my quarters? Are you here to pump me for information?"

  "You are a blunt woman, Morgan. That is a pleasant change. Very well. It was felt by Commander Shelby that you should not be unattended until such time as Lieutenant Kebron has run a full security check on you. Locking you into your quarters seemed rather hostile, and consigning you to the brig was likewise inhospitable. In point of fact, I believe that she was expecting Lieutenant Lefler to stay with you, but she declined the honor. So I offered my services."

  "How very gallant of you. Do you work closely with Robin?"

  "She is my part-time aide-de-camp. She graciously volunteered her time."

  Morgan sized him up once more and then laughed. It was not an open laugh, but merely a short, even slightly disdainful chuckle, in the base of her throat. "How gracious indeed."

  "Meaning… ?"

  "Meaning you're rather attractive for a man with red skin and tattoos on his head."

  "Lieutenant Lefler is a thorough professional, madam," Si Cwan admonished her. "And I will thank you not to ascribe any other motives aside from her interest in serving the best interests of the Excalibur."

  She put up her hands in an overly apologetic manner. "I offer my humble pardon, Ambassador. I did not mean to insult my daughter or you. If it's all the same to you, we'll keep my little gaffe to ourselves."

  "I would far prefer that we did."

  Si Cwan's commbadge beeped on his tunic and he tapped it. "Si Cwan here."

  "Ambassador," came Shelby's voice, "would you be so kind as to escort Ms. Primus to the captain's ready room?"

  "At your service, Commander." He bowed slightly and indicated the door with a wave of his arm. "After you, madam."

  "At your service, Ambassador," she said in a deep, throaty tone. And as she headed toward the door, she stopped and momentarily ran her fingers along the curve of his beard. He blinked in surprise. "Between you and me, Si Cwan, I don't blame my daughter one bit."

  * * *

  Lefler was at her station when Shelby stepped in behind her and said softly, "The captain would like to see us in his ready room."

  Automatically, Robin glanced in the direction of the captain's ready room and saw Si Cwan escorting Morgan through the door. Immediately Robin looked back at Shelby and said, "Commander, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not."

  "It's not all the same to me, Lieutenant," Shelby said, firmly but not unkindly. "What is all the same to me are orders from the captain, even the ones we'd rather not follow. He wants to see you. You get seen. So do I."

  "But—" Then she saw the look in Shelby's eyes and sighed, "Aye, sir." She rose from her station as Ensign Scott Fogelson automatically took her place. When she stood face to face with Shelby, she said very softly, "I hate this."

  "Understood," said Shelby neutrally. "Let's go."

  * * *

  Calhoun couldn't help but notice that Morgan Primus moved about the captain's ready room as if she felt she belonged there. He had chosen the ready room for a reason: He'd wanted to feel as if he had a psychological advantage. A conference lounge had the feel of neutral territory, but the ready room was the captain's home court. Unfortunately it didn't seem to have much relation to the present situation, and Calhoun—who was generally an impeccable judge of character—had the distinct feeling that Morgan was not someone who was readily, or easily, intimidated.

  Si Cwan remained with them and, moments later, Shelby and Lefler joined them. There wasn't quite enough seating space for everyone, but Si Cwan made a point of simply standing over in a corner of the room, arms folded. Calhoun had noticed that Cwan preferred standing to sitting whenever possible. As if he wasn't tall enough, it appeared that he liked to loom. Shelby and Lefler sat in chairs opposite each other, and Morgan settled comfortably into the small couch. "So," Calhoun said amiably, "here we all are. So … Ms. Primus. Or do you prefer Ms. Lefler?"

  " 'Morgan' will do, if that's all the same to you." He noticed she was running a finger along the back of the couch. Checking for dust. Who the hell was this woman? "I see little need to stand on ceremony."

  "Very well, Morgan. Mr. Kebron has finished running his security check on 'Morgan Primus,' and it is very much as Lieutenant Lefler had told us. According to records, you died ten years ago. Your body was never recovered despite best efforts by the authorities."

  "Well, Captain, it appears you succeeded where the authorities failed. You found it."

  "And may I ask, Morgan, where you've been all this time? We can account for the last five years, obviously, but the five years intervening are something of a mystery."

  "Captain," Morgan said slowly, "I believe that these questions are somewhat outside the parameters of your job."

  "It's a funny thing about me, Morgan," Calhoun said with a thin smile. "I'm one for stretching parameters. The longer you're with me, the faster you'll realize that."

  "That is good to know, Captain, but I do not anticipate being here all that long."

  For the first time, Lefler spoke up. "That eager to get away from me again, Mother?"

  Slowly Morgan's gaze swivelled toward her daughter. Her expression was very severe, her face beginning to darken as if a storm cloud was setting in. "Robin," she said, "do you wish to continue with sniping comments that accomplish nothing or do you want to just get it out in the open where we can discuss it?"

  Si Cwan put a restraining hand on Robin's shoulder as Lefler looked as if she were about to leap out of her chair. He held her steady for a moment, but then she pushed his hand away and was on her feet. "All
right," she said sharply. "You want to get to it? Let's get to it."

  Shelby glanced over at Calhoun, but he made a small gesture indicating that they should do nothing to interfere. She sat back and watched with concern.

  "Bottom line, Mother, you ran out on me. On Dad and me."

  "Yes."

  "You faked your own death."

  "Yes again."

  She took a deep breath. "Why?"

  "It was necessary."

  And that was all she said. Robin waited for her to expand upon it, but as the silence lengthened she realized that Morgan was apparently under the impression that that was all the explanation required. "It was necessary?" echoed Robin. "Ten years I think you're dead. Dad dies of a broken heart. And the only thing I'm entitled to is 'it was necessary'?"

  "You're entitled to far more than that, Robin, but that's all I'm prepared to tell you at the moment."

  "At the moment?" Lefler couldn't believe it. She started pacing around the chair, Si Cwan stepping back to give her room. "What the hell are you waiting for? Until you're a grandmother? Until I'm on my deathbed? That's when you're going to come around and say, 'Oh, honey, by the way, I'm now prepared to explain to you why I screwed up your life!' "

  At that, Morgan was on her feet, her fists curled tightly at her sides, and said, "I gave you life, child! I gave you life, and you seem to have survived my departure just fine. And I'm sorry that your father 'died of a broken heart,' but people die, Robin, that's just a statistical fact. And I miss him, but the strong survive, and that's just a fact of nature. That's natural selection. And if he wasn't strong enough to withstand my loss, then nature selected him not to survive, and that is not my fault."

  "How dare you!" Lefler shouted, and leapt to her feet.

  "Okay, that's enough!" said Calhoun. "Lefler, back off!"

  Lefler didn't move, even though her whole body was trembling. Si Cwan seemed about to try and draw her back away from Morgan, but Robin caught his movement with a sideways glance and froze him in his tracks. Si Cwan wisely decided to stay exactly where he was.

  For her part, Morgan's face was flaming red, as if she'd been slapped hard. "Did that make you feel better, Robin?" she asked quietly. "Did that make up for anything?"

  "No," admitted Lefler, looking no less angry. "I want to know what's going on, Mother. You owe me so much. At the very least, you owe me that."

  "Perhaps you're right, Robin. But we don't always get everything we want, and sometimes there are some things that remain mysteries. Believe me when I say that it's far better for all concerned if we leave it that way."

  "I can't."

  "Well, I can. And unfortunately, if I'm not willing to say more than I have, then you are just going to have to be prepared to live with that. You've lived with my death for all these years, Robin. Live with my life for all your remaining years and let it go at that. Captain," she continued before Robin could even say anything, "it is my understanding that we will be meeting up with the transport Seidman. Is that correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Very well. I am officially asking you to put me aboard her. I'll make my own way from there."

  "You're intending to leave Thallonian space?" Si Cwan asked.

  "Perhaps," replied Morgan. "I haven't made up my mind yet."

  "You know," Shelby said, "for some reason that I can't quite put my finger on, I don't entirely believe you. I have the sneaking suspicion that you have indeed made up your mind, Morgan. Do you agree, Captain?"

  "I do indeed, Number One."

  Morgan did a momentary double take. Then she cleared her throat and said, "To be honest, Commander—"

  "There's a change of pace," murmured Lefler.

  "I do not especially care what your opinion of me is," she continued as if Lefler hadn't spoken. "What I care about is continuing about my business. I have been delayed for five years. I have certain goals, certain things I desire to accomplish, and there is no way that I can get that time back. I would ask you to cooperate with me now by not delaying me any further. Now I am asking you for, and frankly I expect to receive, a means off this ship."

  "Permission to show her the back door, sir," said Robin.

  "Lefler, that's not going to accomplish anything," Calhoun said sharply. "Morgan—"

  "Captain, if you give the matter some thought, I'm sure you'll see that you have no choice," Morgan said reasonably.

  "I already have given the matter some thought, and until this situation is resolved to my satisfaction—in short, until I know why you faked your death and showed up in Thallonian space ten years later—you're going to stay put right here on the Excalibur."

  "What?" Morgan fairly exploded. "What did you say?"

  "After all," Calhoun said, "we haven't received formal confirmation of your identity from the Terran data net. Until then, you could be anyone."

  "At this distance," Morgan said grimly, "that will take… ?"

  "At least two weeks by subspace. Not counting any bureaucratic problems on the other end."

  "Robin," Morgan said, turning to her daughter,

  "tell them I'm your mother."

  Lieutenant Leffler replied to her mother's request with an angry glare that said "so now you want to be my mother!"

  Calhoun noted that Shelby's face had gone slightly ashen, although Si Cwan, from long years of practice, kept his face properly inscrutable. "You will be treated as an honored guest, of course," he assured her. "You will not be kept under lock and key, but given free access to the ship, within the limits imposed on all guests. But I have absolutely no intention of simply turning you loose. For all I know, you had some sort of mischief planned toward the Momidiums that you would implement the moment we released you."

  "Captain, I assure you, if I never see Momidium again, it will be too soon."

  He came around the desk and leaned against it in an almost avuncular fashion. "Morgan, I'm sure you understand why your assurances do not mean a hell of a lot to me. Not only have you been less than forthcoming, but you're almost proud over your ability to hide the truth. That does not sit well with me. Until such time that you are forthcoming, you can stay aboard this ship until you rot. Do I make myself clear?"

  "This is extortion!"

  He clapped his hands together briskly. "Yes, I'm clear, all right."

  "You're blackmailing me, Captain! Blackmailing my right to privacy!"

  "One person's blackmail is another person's negotiation," he said calmly. And then he took a step toward her and it was Calhoun whose face was darkening. The scar on his cheek stood out in sharp relief against it. "Now listen to me, lady," and his voice was low and intimidating. "I don't know you. You're just an object to me, a body to be transported. But Lieutenant Lefler here is a valued crewmember. I do not like the way you have treated her in her life. I do not like the aspects of her—the anger, the boiling fury—that you're bringing out in her now."

  "Then let me go so I don't continue to be a bad influence," said Morgan.

  He shook his head. "Ohhh no. No, Morgan. Whatever demons drove you away from her ten years ago don't matter to me all that much, but you don't get off that easily here. What you did to her was unjust, and there will be justice now. I will see it done."

  "Captain Calhoun, trying to right wrongs and save the galaxy," Morgan asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  "Not the entire galaxy," he said tightly. "Just my little piece of it."

  For a long moment the air between them seemed to crackle with energy and then, slowly, Morgan found she couldn't help but look away from the piercing fierceness of those stormy purple eyes of Calhoun's.

  "Are we done here?" she asked, still looking away.

  "It would appear that we are, yes. Ambassador… Lieutenant… if you wouldn't mind escorting Morgan to her quarters, she can begin her stay with us."

  "So I've gone from being a prisoner of the Momidiums to a prisoner of Captain Calhoun, is that how it's to be?" asked Morgan.

  "You're a prisone
r of your own heart and deeds, Morgan, and of your own coldness. I'm just the facilitator."

  She seemed about to respond, but apparently thought better of it as she turned and walked out. Si Cwan and Lefler followed her out, and Lefler paused for a brief moment to look back at Calhoun. The captain couldn't tell whether she was looking at him in gratitude, in anger, in confusion, or perhaps a combination of all three.

  Shelby was about to speak when Calhoun quickly raised a finger to silence her as he tapped his commbadge and said, "Mr. Kebron, a moment of your time, please."

  "Mac, you can't be serious about this."

  "You seem to say that a lot, Commander. And you keep finding out that I'm perfectly serious. Sooner or later I think you should really stop saying that. It's making you predictable."

  "Mac, for the love of—"

  Kebron entered the ready room and stood there, arms casually draped behind his back. "Yes, Captain?"

  "I want a level two security watch kept on Morgan," Calhoun said.

  "All security personnel to keep an eye out for her at all times," Kebron said easily. "No single team or teams to watch her, but instead to trade off in pass-the-baton fashion. Check in with security head every fifteen minutes to keep me apprised of her whereabouts."

  "That's it. Inform all guards. I want it done yesterday."

  "Aye, sir." He tapped his commbadge. "All security units, this is Kebron. Security watch, level two, subject Morgan Primus, immediate institution. Go. All units confirm at security board," and he walked out of the captain's ready room with more speed than Calhoun would have given him credit for.

  Calhoun then waited for Shelby to lay into him. His back was to her, but he was quite sure that it was gong to be coming any moment. When there was nothing but silence, he turned to face her on the assumption that she was waiting to be able to look straight at him. Sure enough, there she was, her arms folded and with a neutral look on her face that could only be covering what he was certain was a sense of complete and utter exasperation.

  "Go ahead," he sighed. "Say it."

  "Mac," she told him, "I think what you're doing is very sweet."