by Peter David
“Sir? If you don’t mind?” asked the creature, and the question was clearly addressed to Riker. “Apparently, this exercise period is over.” Riker, feeling as if sanity was slipping away from him, released his grip and dropped to the floor. Burgoyne, for hir part, was picking hirself off the floor and dusting hirself off.
Zak looked back to Lefler. “Anything else?”
“No, that should about do it.”
He inclined his chest slightly, which was his equivalent of nodding, and then he turned and walked back out the door.
VIII.
GERRID THUL WAS EMINENTLY pleased as he looked around the room of dead men.
That might not have been the most accurate of terms, he reasoned. Not all of them were men, for starters. A goodly number of males of the species were there, yes, but there was a vast array of females as well. All equally deserving, equally titled, equally dead. And to be absolutely, one hundred percent correct, he would have to admit that none of them were actually, in point of fact, dead.
Yet.
Never had the word “yet” been so delicious, held so much promise. Yet. Definitely, indisputably, yet.
As he walked through the grand reception hall that hosted the first of what was intended to be a number of gatherings celebrating the bicentennial, he couldn’t help but be satisfied, and even amused, at the way that others within the Federation were reacting to him. There were nods, smiles, a polite wink or two. And many, ever so many requests for “just a few moments” of his time that invariably expanded into many minutes.
He had been careful, so very careful in making his contacts. And what had been so elegant about the entire matter was that those poor, benighted fools in the Federation had a tendency to side with the underdog. And that was something that Thul had very much seemed. A man who was once great, who had lost everything, and who was now trying to build himself back up to a position of strength and influence. He had come to people seemingly hat in hand, unprepossessing, undemanding. And he played, like a virtuoso, upon one of the fundamental truths of all sentient beings: Everyone liked to feel superior to someone else. It made them comfortable. It made them generous. And best of all, it made them sloppy and offered a situation that General Thul could capitalize upon.
Of course, Vara Syndra had helped.
“Where is Vara this fine evening?” assorted ambassadors and high muck-a-mucks in the Federation asked. But Thul had held her back, and not without reason. Best to build up anticipation, to get them to want to see her, ask about her, look around and try to catch a glimpse of her. Vara knew her place, though, and also knew that timing was everything. She would remain secreted away until the appropriate time had presented itself, and then he would send for her.
He had a feeling that the time was fast approaching.
“Thul! General Thul!” came a hearty voice that Thul recognized instantly. He turned to see Admiral Edward Jellico approaching.
He did not like Jellico. That, in and of itself, was nothing surprising; he didn’t like any of them, really. But Jellico was a particularly pompous and officious representative of humanity. Thul hoped against hope that he might somehow actually be able to see Jellico when the death throes overtook him, but that didn’t seem tremendously likely. He would have to settle for imagining it. Then again, Thul had a famously vivid imagination, so that probably wouldn’t present too much of a difficulty.
“Edward!” returned Thul cheerfully, perfectly matching the pitch and enthusiasm of Jellico’s own voice. He had to speak loudly to make himself heard over the noise and chatter of the packed ballroom. Furthermore, all around him the scents of various foods wafted toward him. Thul had a rather acute sense of smell, and the array was nearly overwhelming to him. Some seemed rather enticing while others nearly induced his gag reflex, so it was quite an effort to keep it all straight within him. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”
“And you as well, General.” He gestured to those who were accompanying them. One was another human, a tall and powerfully built human female. The other was a rather elegant-looking Vulcan with graying hair, and that annoying serenity that Vulcans seemed to carry with them at all times. “This is Admiral O’Shea,” he said, pointing to the female, “and this is Ambassador Stonn. Admiral, Ambassador, General Thul of the Thallonian Empire.”
“The late Thallonian Empire, I fear,” said Thul. He bowed in O’Shea’s direction, and then gave a flawless Vulcan salute to Stonn. “Peace and long life,” he said.
“Live long and prosper,” replied Stonn.
One of us will, thought Thul.
“I’m familiar with your good works, Thul,” said O’Shea. “As I recall, you were working just last month to seek more humanitarian aid for refugees from Thallonian space.”
“Actually,” Thul told her, “I have been looking into expanding my efforts. You see, in exploring what needs to be done to help our own refugees, I have stumbled upon other races that could use aid as well. Aid…which is sometimes hampered by the Federation.”
“Hampered? How so?” asked Stonn.
“It is…ironic that I would bring this up now,” Thul said, looking quite apologetic. “We are, after all, here to celebrate the signing of the Resolution of Non-In-terference, one of the keystone documents of the entire Federation.”
“Yes. So?”
“So, Admiral O’Shea…it may be time to revisit the entire concept of the prime directive. All too of-ten…and I truly do not wish to offend with my sentiments…”
“Please, General, say what you feel,” Jellico urged him.
“Very well. It seems that, all too often, the intent of the prime directive is corrupted. The letter is followed when the spirit is violated.” He noticed that several other people had overheard him and were now attending his words as well. Superb. The larger audience he had, the better he liked it. “The fact is that the prime directive was created specifically so that more advanced races would not harm less developed races. But too many times, we encounter situations where it is specifically cited as a reason not to help those races. Starfleet stands by, watches them fumble about, and simply takes down notes while observing from hidden posts. Think, my friends. Think, for example, of a small child,” and his voice started to ache with imagined hurt, “a small boy, dying of a disease…the cure for which is held by those who look down from on high. But do they help? Do they produce a medication that will save him?
No…no, my friends, they do not. They bloodlessly watch, and take down their notes, and perhaps they’ll log the time of death. And who knows if that child might not have grown up to be the greatest man, inventor, thinker, philosopher, leader of that race. The man who could bring that race into a golden age, cut off…in his youth. What would it have hurt…to help that child? And what tremendous benefit might have been gained. Who among you could endorse such a scenario…and believe it to somehow serve a greater good?”
There was dead silence from those within earshot. Finally, Stonn said, “A very passionate observation, Thul. At its core, there may even be some valid points. However…interference invites abuse. It was an earthman who stated that power tends to cor-rupt…and absolute power corrupts absolutely. For all of the positive scenarios that you can spin, I am certain that I would easily be able to create plausible hypotheticals of abuse of that selfsame power.”
“What Ambassador Stonn is saying,” said Admiral O’Shea, “is that if the non-interference directive is, as you postulate, an error…isn’t it better to err on the side of caution?”
“Two hundred years ago, perhaps. I will certainly grant you that. But of what use is experience if one does not learn from it,” replied Thul. “There are people who need help and don’t even know that they do. Besides, is not human history rife with such ‘interference’? Were there not more advanced members of the human race who went to less-developed, undernourished or undereducated areas and brought them technology…advancement…even entire belief systems?”
“And in many instances did as much harm as good,” Jellico said. “There was also conquest, to say nothing of entire races of people who were annihilated by germs and strains of diseases that their own immune systems were completely unequipped to handle.”
“Ultimately, however,” and Thul smiled, “things seem to have worked out for you.”
“Yes, because we found our own way.”
“Or perhaps in spite of finding your own way. Think, though. If older, wiser, more advanced races such as yours, and all those represented in this room were to use their experience, their knowledge of the mistakes that they themselves made to avoid mistakes in the future…” He shook his head. “Don’t you see. But when there is want and need by other races who have never even heard of the Federation, and who could benefit so tremendously by the help…”
“You’re saying that perhaps it’s time to abolish or reframe the prime directive?” said Jellico.
“At this time? On the anniversary the signing of the document that was its genesis? Yes, that is exactly what I am saying.”
There were thoughtful nods from all around, like a sea of bobbing heads. Finally it was Jellico who said, “You may…have some valid points there, General. Obviously I can’t speak on behalf of Starfleet, and certainly not the Federation…but perhaps some serious study should be done as to whether it’s time to rethink our intentions and perhaps expand upon—”
“You hypocrite.”
The voice had come completely unexpectedly, and the words were slightly slurred. As one, everyone within earshot turned and saw the rather remarkable sight of a Starfleet captain, holding a drink and glaring at Admiral Jellico with as open a glare of contempt as Thul had ever seen.
“You are some piece of work, Admiral. You are really, truly, some piece of work.” He took another sip of the blue liquid that was swirling about in his glass.
Thul couldn’t quite believe the change that had come over Jellico’s face. He had gone from thoughtful to darkly furious, practically in the space of a heartbeat. “Captain Calhoun…may I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Listening to you reverse yourself,” replied Captain Calhoun. “The number of times I’ve had to listen to you pontificate and talk about the sanctity of the prime directive…of how unbreakable the first, greatest law of Starfleet is…and how you’ve used that selfsame law to second-guess and denounce some of my most important decisions. But now here you are, all dressed up at this extremely important gathering,” and he added exaggerated emphasis to the last three words, “and this…person…” and he waved in a vague manner at Thul, “…suggests the exact same thing that I’ve been saying for years now…and suddenly you’re ready to listen. You act like this is the first time you’ve heard it.”
“Perhaps General Thul simply has a way of expressing his concerns that is superior to the belligerent tone you usually adopt, Captain,” said Jellico. Quickly he said to the others around him, “General, Ambassador Stonn, Admiral O’Shea…I’m terribly sorry about this. I’m not entirely certain what this officer is doing here…”
“I’m here because I was ordered to be here,” Calhoun said. A number of other guests were noticing the ruckus, which wasn’t difficult since Calhoun’s voice was carrying.
“That’s strange. My office should have received a memo on that,” Jellico said, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Really. Perhaps someone simply forgot. Or perhaps you were too busy getting ready for this little get-together that you didn’t have a chance to stay current with your memos. Look, Admiral,” and Calhoun swayed ever so slightly. Thul could tell that this rather odd individual had clearly had a bit too much to drink. “Make no mistake. I’d rather be on my ship. But I was ordered to be here because I’m supposed to be representing the Federation’s interests in Thallonian space. One of the new frontiers that we brave individuals are exploring and protecting. Here’s to us,” and he knocked back more of the drink, leaving about a third of it in the glass.
“Of course,” said Thul in slow realization. “Captain Calhoun…of the Excalibur. Am I correct?”
“Correct.”
“I am very aware of your vessel’s humanitarian mission. It is also my understanding that Lord Si Cwan is among the personnel of your brave ship. I met him once, when he was a very small child. I doubt he would remember me.”
“Captain Calhoun was just leaving,” said Jellico, “weren’t you, Captain?”
“Oh, was I?” Calhoun smiled lopsidedly. “But Admiral, this is a party. Why are you so anxious to have me leave?”
“Captain,” O’Shea spoke up, “I’m well aware that you have some…issues…with Admiral Jellico. But I submit that this is neither the time nor the place…”
“Or perhaps it’s the perfect time and place,” Calhoun shot back. Thul quickly began to reassess his opinion. Calhoun wasn’t a bit drunk. He was seriously drunk. Not in such a way that he was going to fall over, but certainly whatever inhibitions he might have about speaking the truth were gone. “The fact is that the good Admiral here has had it out for me for years now. Just because he got it into his head that I was some sort of super officer, and then I didn’t live up to the place that he’d set for me. I saved his life, you know,” he said in an offhand manner to Thul. “This man would be standing here dead if not for me.”
“And because of that, I protected you as long as I could,” Jellico said, his body stiffening. “But you’re the one who allowed the Grissom incident to get to you, Calhoun. Accidents happen, bad things happen to good people. True leaders manage to rise above that.”
“And leave their consciences behind?”
“I didn’t say that. Look, Calhoun,” said Jellico, his ire clearly beginning to rise, “you said you’re here because you were ordered to be here. If you’re actually obeying orders, it’s going to be the first time that I can recall in ages…perhaps ever. That being the case, here’s another order: Get the hell out of here before you embarrass yourself further, if that’s possible.”
“Gentlemen,” Stonn said, “perhaps you might wish to take this conversation into a private area…”
It seemed to Thul that, at that point, everyone in the place was watching them. He also saw several men dressed in UFP security garb threading their way through the crowd.
“I’m sure he’d like that,” Calhoun said. “That’s how his kind best operates: In the dark, in private, alone, like any fungus.”
“That’s enough,” said Jellico, the veins on his temples clearly throbbing.
“You sway with the wind, Jellico,” said Calhoun. “To your superiors and your pals, you say what you think they want to hear. And to the rest of us, you step on us like we’re bugs. That’s all we are to you. And you can’t stand me because I actually stood up to you. Stood up! That’s an understatement. I flattened you. I flattened him,” Calhoun said to O’Shea. “One punch. I resigned from Starfleet, he tried to get in my way, I warned him, and one punch, I took him down.”
“It was not one punch.” Jellico looked around, clearly embarrassed. “Not one punch.”
“It was. One shot to the side of the head, and you went down on your ass, right after you grabbed my arm…”
“All right, that’s it. Security!” called Jellico…
…and he grabbed Calhoun by the arm.
Calhoun’s smile went wolfish, and to Thul it seemed as if all the inebriation, all the fuzziness about the man, dissolved in a second. Whatever the man might have had to drink, he was able to shunt it aside in a split second. His fist whipped around with no hesitation, and caught Jellico squarely in the side of the head. Jellico went down amidst gasps from everyone surrounding him.
“That will suffice,” said Ambassador Stonn, stepping between Jellico and Calhoun. At that moment, despite the superior strength of the Vulcan, Thul would not have wanted to place bets on just who would win an altercation between the Vulcan and Calhoun.
But Calhoun didn’t displ
ay the least interest in fighting off Stonn. Instead he simply grinned and said, “See? Told you. One punch.”
“Get out of here!” Jellico said, rubbing his head. His eyes weren’t focused on anything; Thul could practically hear Jellico’s head ringing right from where he was standing.
Calhoun seemed to be enjoying Jellico’s disorientation immensely. “One-Punch Jellico, they should call you. That’s all it takes,” Calhoun called. “That’s all it takes to puncture a pompous windbag.”
O’Shea helped Jellico to his feet, asking after his health solicitously, but it didn’t seem as if Jellico even heard her. Instead, across the room that had now become completely hushed, Jellico shouted, “I’ll have your rank for this, Calhoun! Do you hear me? This is the last straw! I don’t care who your friends are! I don’t care what you’ve accomplished! I don’t care if Picard backs you up! I don’t care if the words, ‘Calhoun is my favorite captain’ appears on the wall at Starfleet headquarters in flaming letters twelve feet high! You are gone! You are finished! Do you hear? Finished!”
“I hear you, Admiral!” called Calhoun as he stormed out of the room. “And I heard you when you said it years ago! And I came back, didn’t I? I keep coming back!” He turned and walked out of the room.
“Not this time, Calhoun! Not this time!” Jellico shouted after him.
There was a long silence after Calhoun left from the room. Jellico was flushed red in the face, clearly utterly chagrined at the turn of events. “You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about, Admiral,” said Thul consolingly. “Obviously he was a madman.”
“I could tell you horror stories, General, I really could,” said Jellico. “Mackenzie Calhoun repres-ents…I’m sorry, I should say ‘represen-ted’…everything that’s wrong with the ‘cowboy’ breed of captain. No respect for rules or for authority. No respect for the chain of command. No…”
“No respect, period?” offered Thul.
