Double Helix #5 - Double or Nothing

by Peter David

  Shelby was a bit surprised at the urgency to Bur-goyne’s manner. Granted, s/he was one of the more flamboyant individuals aboard the ship, but s/he never displayed the sort of outright consternation that s/he was now showing. Also, Shelby couldn’t help but notice that McHenry was making a determined effort not to look in Burgoyne’s direction. The nor­mally near-comatose helmsman suddenly seemed ex­tremely interested in checking over his instrumenta­tion.

  Riker, who’d been standing next to Zak Kebron and going over tactical relays in preparation for pos­sible battle, looked up in confusion. “Is there a prob­lem, Burgoyne?” he asked.

  “Nothing that Commander Shelby can’t handle, sir.”

  Riker took a step down from the upper ring of the bridge. “Indulge me. What’s the problem?”

  “All right,” Burgoyne said after a moment’s consid­eration. “I want to know why I just got a reassign­ment.”

  “What?” Riker said, glancing at Shelby. Shelby shrugged, not knowing what Burgoyne was referring to. “Are you no longer chief engineer?”

  “Oh, I’m still that, yes. But I’ve been rotated to a desk job. Instructed to remain in my office or work at the engineering station here on the bridge.”

  “But why…?”

  “I don’t know why,” said a clearly exasperated Burgoyne. “I got the message over my computer, and the computer simply said it was orders. I thought they were yours.” Some of the ire was being replaced by simple confusion. “Because of…you know…”

  “Payback, perhaps,” suggested Riker. “For our little misunderstanding in the holodeck?”

  “The thought did cross my mind.”

  “I don’t operate that way, Lieutenant Commander. I had nothing to do with this reassignment.”

  “Lefler,” Shelby called to Robin at ops, “run this one down, would you? See what’s going on?”

  It took Lefler only a few brief moments to track down the origin of the orders. “Captain Calhoun,” she said, punching up the transfer records at her sta­tion.. “It came from Captain Calhoun.”

  “What?” said a stunned Burgoyne.

  “Hold on. There’s a notation here…oh,” Lefler said after another moment’s checking. “According to his log, he was concerned about keeping you in engineer­ing, in proximity to potentially high levels of radi­ation. Because of, well…” She cleared her throat. “…you know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “Because of you being pregnant.”

  “I’m not pregnant,” Burgoyne waved hir arms about in clear exasperation.

  “Well, yes, but the captain didn’t know that when he put in for the reassignment. Apparently he did it right before he left, and there hasn’t been the oppor­tunity to clear it up yet.”

  “Perfect,” sighed Burgoyne. “Just perfect. Mark, tell them I’m not pregnant.” When McHenry didn’t an­swer immediately, Burgoyne repeated, “Mark?”

  Shelby couldn’t help but notice how strange McHenry’s voice sounded when she spoke. Usually the most carefree-sounding of individuals, this time he came across as a bit stressed. “So you’ve told me, Lieutenant Commander. Then again, you also told me you were pregnant in the first place. I guess even in this high-speed age, it’s hard to keep up.”

  Quickly Shelby stepped in. “I’ll expunge the orders immediately, Burgoyne. Sorry for the confusion.”

  “That…would be appreciated, Commander,” said Burgoyne, but s/he was looking with open curiosity at McHenry. “I hope I didn’t come across as too bel­ligerent.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Mark,” Burgoyne continued slowly, “is there something you wish to discuss?”

  The entire bridge crew was watching, but McHenry didn’t give any indication that he was aware of the scrutiny. If he was aware, he didn’t seem to care. “No, Burgy. Nothing at all, thanks. If you’ll excuse me…I’m kind of busy…”

  Without missing a beat, Burgoyne turned to Shelby and said, “Commander, I have a few navigational is­sues that need to be attended to. May I borrow Mr. McHenry for a few minutes?”

  “That sounds like it might not be a bad idea,” Shelby said readily.

  McHenry turned in his chair, looking slightly be­trayed. “Commander…”

  But Shelby simply said, “Go,” and her tone of voice made quite clear that no dispute was going to be welcomed in the matter. With a heavy sigh, McHenry rose from his station and headed into the turbolift.

  “Commander, a moment of your time, please,” Riker suddenly said. Shelby frowned, because it was clear to her from his tone of voice that something was bothering him. She nodded and followed him into the ready room. Once they were inside, he didn’t sit, but turned to face her and said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a tendency among the crew to speak directly to you on all matters.”

  “No, I hadn’t noticed,” said Shelby.

  “I doubt that, Commander, although perhaps you’re just being too tactful to say so.”

  “I try not to let tact stand in the way of doing my job, sir.”

  “In that, you succeed admirably,” Riker said drily. “The point remains that I’ve been noticing it re­peatedly, on all matters great and small. And it’s something that you’ve been encouraging.”

  “Encouraging? You mean I’ve been answering questions and dealing with problems? Is that your definition of encouragement?”

  “You could, on occasion, make a point of consulting me, instead of acting as if I’m not even on the bridge.”

  “Permission to speak freely, sir,” Shelby said stiffly.

  “If I said ‘no,’ would that stop you?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Permission granted, then.”

  “This isn’t about the crew, Captain. This is about your ego. You’re the cock of the walk on the Enter­prise and you feel that now, as captain here, you’re entitled to get the same sort of treatment.”

  “What I am entitled to get, Commander,” he said hotly, “is the respect that is due the rank.”

  “A rank you’ve made no effort to obtain. You’ve practically had to have it shoved down your throat,” retorted Shelby. “Will Riker, the reluctant captain. How is anyone here supposed to take you seriously.”

  “You listen to me, Shelby,” Riker shot back. “I’ve been through enough battles, through more life-and-death situations than you can even begin to count.”

  “Not with us. I’ve been here. You haven’t. Besides, how do you expect this crew to warm to you? You make it clear that you think they’re all vastly inferior to the Enterprise crew.”

  “I’ve done no such thing.”

  “Oh, please!” she rolled her eyes. “With gestures, with looks, with tone of voice. You make it clear just how second-rate you think this crew is. Well, I’ll tell you something, ‘Captain,’ this is one of the best crews I’ve ever dealt with. And they deserve better than to be condescended to.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never felt separate from this crew yourself, Commander,” Riker said. “That you weren’t accepted, that you didn’t fit in, weren’t respec­ted…”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Your log clearly stated—”

  “My log?” That stopped the conversation dead. “My log?” she said again. “I never said anything like that in my public log. Only my…personal log…when did you read my personal log?”

  “It…” Riker suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable. Falling back on regs, he said, “Captains and chief medical officers reserve the right to review all records of their command staff.”

  “That doesn’t give you the right to read my personal log.” She felt her cheeks starting to flush.

  “Actually, it does. I was trying to familiarize myself with this crew and with all the pertinent attitudes. If I’m going to be leading you into potentially hazardous situations, I want to know where everyone’s mind is. So a few hours ago, I reviewed entries relevant to—”

 
; “You bastard,” said Shelby.

  “Watch it, Commander,” Riker said. “Speaking freely or no, you’re pushing it. The bottom line is that you’ve had a serious attitude problem with me for years, and I can’t be in a position of having to toler­ate…”

  “Position? What do you know of positions?” she demanded. “The only position you know is standing in the cooling shade of Jean-Luc Picard’s shadow. What is it with you, anyway? Getting in behind him and staying put. What are you, just lazy?”

  “Not that it’s any of your damned business, Com­mander, but have you considered that, after the Enter­prise, command of another ship might be something of a come-down?”

  “Nice little theory…except the Enterprise you were aboard for over half a decade blew up. So what’s the new excuse? Oh, I know, maybe it’s the name. Or maybe it’s just that Picard fills some sort of need in your life that you didn’t get elsewhere. What is he, some sort of father figure that you’ve just attached yourself to and can’t let go, no matter what, because you’ll feel like you’re abandoning him or some­thing…?”

  Her voice trailed off as she saw Riker’s face become more darkly furious than she’d ever seen. For a mo­ment, just the briefest of moments, she actually thought he might haul off and belt her.

  “At least I’ve been offered command of my own vessel,” Riker said with barely contained rage. “Per­haps before you start analyzing my problems, you might want to turn that piercing vision of yours in­ward and see just why it is that you haven’t been given the same opportunity.”

  Then, slowly, through sheer force of will, he com­posed himself. He drew himself up to his full height and, as if speaking from high on a mountain, he told her in a flat, even voice, “Until further notice, all de­cisions and matters that are put forward in my pres­ence are to be addressed to me. I will not be treated as if I’m not there. Is that clear, Commander?”

  “Crystal,” said Shelby.

  “Turbolift, all stop.”

  The turbolift that had been carrying McHenry and Burgoyne came to a halt in immediate compliance with Burgoyne’s directive. McHenry looked around, mildly puzzled. “This is going to make it take much longer to get to engineering.”

  “Okay, Mark, what’s going on?” Burgoyne faced him, arms folded across hir breast. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you…” S/he shook bar head. “This isn’t get­ting us anywhere.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No, it…nyarrrh!” snarled Burgoyne. “Stop it! Just…stop it! You’re trying to make me crazy!”

  “How am I doing?”

  In the question, in the attitude with which it was asked, there was a flicker of the puckishness that had always characterized McHenry in the past. Burgoyne was extremely relieved to see it, if only for an instant. “You’re doing quite well,” s/he admitted. “Mark…is this about Selar and me? Because you said you could take it in stride. Nothing fazed you, is what you said. You said you were happy for us.”

  “Yeah…I know.”

  “What, was that true?”

  “It was when I said it.”

  “But now…?”

  He leaned back against the railing of the turbolift. “I don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?” S/he put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Mark, above everything else, we’ve always been able to communicate. I don’t want to lose that.”

  “I’m just…” He sighed heavily. “Look…Burgy…the truth is that I’m not in touch with my feelings, okay? If you know anything about me, you should know that. There’s just so many other things to think about, and wonder about…and if I have to start putting everything through the filter of how I ‘feel’ about it, I’ll go kinda crazy. So I sort of like to live for the moment.”

  “All right. But it would be nice if, every once in a while, it was somebody else’s moment as well. You do tend to go off into your own world, Mark…and it’s hard for anyone to know what’s going on in there.”

  “I know. It’s…” He seemed to steady himself, and then the words all came out in a rush. “It’s just that…I was very angry with you. There. I said it. Don’t hate me.”

  “Hate you?” s/he said, bemused. “Why would I hate you? What were you angry about? Because I made a joke to see if I really could throw you off kil­ter, and it worked more than I could have hoped?”

  “No, that’s not it. It’s that…well…after I came to, I had plenty of time to think about the whole idea before you wound up telling me it wasn’t true. And during that time, I just…well…I got to like the idea. It seemed fun…and…I dunno…grounding, somehow. And that didn’t seem to be such a bad thing…partic-ularly the notion of having one with you, because you’re so…”

  “Maternal? Special? Intelligent?”

  “I was going to say ‘weird,’ but those others apply too, I guess.” He shook his head. “And you know me, I start thinking…and I just go off in my own world, and think of things, and I was building up this whole life together. I even had this whole weird family unit built up in my head, with you and Selar and that baby, and me and you and that baby, and maybe even the three of us working together…”

  “Now that would be weird.”

  “I know. That’s what I kind of liked about it. But that’s not going to happen anymore. I mean, when it was just you and Selar and you guys having a baby, I had no trouble with that. I could handle that, accept it, even step aside. But for a while there, I just saw something different, and kind of liked it, and now it’s gone, and I’m back to being an outsider again.”

  “Oh, Mark…you’ll never be an outsider with me. You—”

  “But I’ll never be her,” McHenry said with a sad smile. “I’ll never be Selar. I was always a second-place choice to her, I understood that. And I thought that was okay. And it should be. But for a while I…Ohh-hhh…never mind.”

  “Mark, you keep saying ‘never mind’ and shutting things off…”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s the way I am. I kind of like me that way.”

  “Do you?”

  They looked at each other levelly for a moment that seemed to stretch out for quite some time. Finally he said firmly, “Yeah. I do. Turbolift, resume.”

  The turbolift promptly started up once again, and the two of them rode the rest of the way down to the engineering deck in silence. Burgoyne turned to McHenry. He didn’t move. “I assume you didn’t really need me down in engineering.”

  “No. Not really. But I do need you to be a friend—”

  “Always. Well, I guess this is your stop then,” he said a bit too quickly to sound sincere.

  “I guess it is.”

  S/he disembarked, then started to say something to him, but he put up a finger to shush hir. “It’s okay.

  Relationships are like turbolifts. Sometimes you just have to know when to get off.”

  “Yellow alert,” Riker ordered. “All handles, battle stations.”

  As the Excalibur approached Narobi II, Riker stroked his chin as he contemplated the scene before him and came to two conclusions: First, Si Cwan’s “tip” might have been groundless. And second, he really, really missed his beard.

  “No Romulan vessels detected, sir,” announced Zak Kebron from the tactical station. “But if they’re cloaked, they’re harder to pick up.”

  From the science post, science officer Soleta said, “Sensor scan to pick up emissions will take time.”

  “Understood,” Riker said. “Proceed with scan. Hailing frequencies, Mr. Kebron?”

  “Open, but we’re not getting a response from Narobi.”

  “That could be a definite indicator of a problem,” said Riker thoughtfully.

  Abruptly Soleta looked up from her science station. “Two vessels with cloaking devices detected uncloak­ing, at 352 and
367 Mark 2.”

  She was absolutely correct. On the far side of the Narobi homeworld, two Romulan warbirds wavered into view.

  “That,” Shelby observed, “could be an even more definite indicator of a problem.”

  “Red alert. Shields up,” Riker ordered crisply. “Weapons systems?”

  ‘‘We are at weapons hot,” Kebron said. “Good to go.”

  “Try to hail them. Warn them off.” He leaned for­ward in the command chair, fingers interlaced, trying to determine what it was the Romulans were up to.

  “Attempting to do so now, sir. No response. It is my belief that the warbirds are jamming transmissions from the planet.”

  “I suspected as much. Mr. McHenry, target both warbirds. Report on warbird readiness?”

  “They are running weapons hot…but they are not targeting us, sir,” said Kebron.

  Riker turned to Soleta. “Can we confirm that?”

  “Confirmed,” Soleta said without hesitation. “They’re ready to shoot if need be, but they’re not doing so.”

  “Some sort of Romulan game,” Riker said thoughtfully. ‘‘Trying to make us guess what they’re up to.”

  “I don’t like this,” said Shelby.

  “What’s to like?” muttered Kebron.

  “Bring us in slowly, Mr. McHenry” said Riker. “Let’s get them to move off. I want them clear of that plan­et.”

  “Sir,” Shelby said, turning to face Riker, “some-thing’s wrong here.”

  “Specify.”

  “They’re just sitting there, as if they’re daring us to get closer. Why would they do that?”

  “Romulans are like cats, Commander. They like to arch their backs and hope that larger and more for­midable enemies will be thrown by it,” Riker told her confidently. “They have their weapons on line, but they won’t target us because they know that’ll provoke us into firing. They want to see if we’ll hesitate to engage them. If we don’t hesitate, if we don’t show fear, they’ll move off. If we do…they’re that much more likely to attack. Except that most likely the ones they will attack will be the planet in an attempt to strong-arm us into surrendering. No hesitation, Commander, and no fear. It’s all based on an old earth game called ‘chicken.’ ”