by Peter David
"You know this how?"
"Everyone on theExcalibur knows."
"Of course. For one foolish moment, I believed that such a thing as a right to privacy existed on this ship."
"It exists, but largely in theory. As I was saying, I know you had nothing to do with how the boy was raised, but the simple truth is that I'm concerned he can be something of a negative influence. On that basis, I would appreciate you sitting down with the boy and explaining to him why—during his presumably brief stay aboard—he should keep his distance from Kalinda. As captain of the ship, you would certainly have the authority to do so, and make it stick by instructing security to enforce it." Si Cwan laughed softly. "Certainly you can understand my concerns. Xyon has many commendable qualities, but he is very impulsive, acting with instinct instead of forethought. He is, to be honest, a bit crude, and he most certainly has an inflated sense of his own importance."
"I have no idea where he gets that from," said Calhoun.
"Kalinda is still a bit naive, despite all she's been through. I do not want her seizing on young Xyon as some sort of role model, or someone to aspire to."
"Despite the fact that he saved her life. Despite the fact that he essentially, to the best of my knowledge, passes his days trying to help people with no thought of remuneration or self-aggrandizement. Heaven forbid that you would want Kalinda to emulate such behavior."
"No," Si Cwan said, waggling a finger, "now you see, I think you're missing the point somewhat"
"Oh really. Then I will reiterate, to make certain all the points are covered." Now it was Calhoun counting off on his fingers, "First, you're worried because Kalinda is still getting her bearings. Understandable. And as her big brother, I'm quite sure you can be counted on to make certain that she gets them. Second… you're a snob."
"Now wait just a minute…"
Si Cwan's voice was raised, and Calhoun noticed that others in Ten-Forward were starting to look their way. He didn't care. Why should he? Everyone on the damned ship seemed to know everyone else's business. Why become faint-hearted about it now? Nevertheless, he dropped his voice to a low, intense level to afford at least an illusion of confidentiality. "Lord Cwan, I don't know if you've taken stock lately, but the planet upon which you reigned is rabble, and your empire has fallen apart. We continue to treat you with respect appropriate to your title as a courtesy to you, but make no mistake: It is courtesy, and nothing more. It's charming to consider yourself part of the ruling class, but considering you have nothing to rale over, you may want to rethink the possibility of pulling your head out of the dark area it's gotten stuck in."
Si Cwan flushed redder than he usually was. "How dare y—"
"Third, whatever Xyon's strengths and weaknesses of character might be, the fact is he doesn't have an inflated sense of his own self-importance. He has a streak of independence slightly wider than the Horsehead Nebula, and even if I lost all sense of reason and tried to order him to keep away from Kalinda, I can tell you with a reasonable amount of certainty that all such an action would do is increase his determination to spend time with her."
"Captain, you are being unreasonable…"
"I thought you were better than this, Si Cwan. Where's the nobility in this whining attitude?"
The muscles in Si Cwan's arms twitched as if he were containing himself. His teeth were tightly set. "I would strongly suggest that you do not insult me further, Captain, or I cannot be responsible for the consequences."
Calhoun felt a flush against his cheek, and was quite aware that his scar was burning red, the most reliable exterior sign that he was angry. "Are you implying that you would lose your temper and take some physical action against me?"
"I believe, Captain, the statement speaks for itself."
"Si Cwan… I have tremendous respect for you," Calhoun said, sounding so calm that one would have thought he was having a passionless discussion about gamma particles. "I know that you are trying to pull together the worlds in this sector into some sort of alliance that will enable them to function as one. I know that, to a certain degree, you have had to swallow your pride in your dealings with those over whom you used to rule. And you have been of tremendous use in the past months as we have gone about our business. All of this I freely admit. But lest you forget, we came to blows when you first arrived on this vessel, and I dropped you where you stood. So I think you have to understand that if you continue the direction of this conversation… or if you are foolish enough actually to swing on me… then Iwill be responsible for the consequences. Do we understand each other, Lord Cwan?"
Si Cwan appeared to be considering taking his chances. But there was something in Calhoun's dark, purple eyes that signalled him as to the lack of wisdom such a course would entail.
"Out of respect to your position, Captain… yes, I believe we do," Si Cwan said.
"Good." Calhoun sat back in his chair. "Would you like a drink?"
"No. I think not."
"Very well, then. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
Si Cwan rose from the chair, turned stiffly and walked out. All heads turned watching him go. The other patrons of Ten-Forward had not been able to hear what was being said between the two of them; they had made their voices too low for that. But everyone could tell that some rather harsh words had been exchanged, and there was even a general sense that something worse had only narrowly been averted. Practically in unison, everyone looked back at Calhoun. He raised a glass jauntily and downed the contents. "I wonder," he said out loud to no one in particular, "if this evening could possibly get any worse."
His comm badge beeped and he tapped it. "Calhoun here."
"Captain," came the brisk voice of Shelby, "sorry to contact you this late, but we've received a distress call from the planet Fenner. They're under attack by the Redeemers."
"That," Calhoun said, "will teach me to ask questions I don't really want the answers to."
"Sir?"
"Nothing. Alert the senior staff. We'll conference in the ready room."
"Not in the conference lounge, sir?"
"No. I don't feel like lounging. I feel like being ready. Calhoun out."
IV.
IN THE READY ROOM, Soleta tapped the computer screen which had the specs on the planet Fenner. "Standard class M world," she said. "Populace is in early technological stages, having achieved space travel approximately one hundred years earlier. The people had a civil war relatively recently, but threw out the leadership that brought them to that state and since then have lived in relative harmony. Recently, however, an emissary for the Redeemers arrived on their world and informed them that they had been selected for conversion."
Around the room, Calhoun, Burgoyne, Shelby, Kebron and Si Cwan all nodded. They knew all too well the significance of that designation: the Redeemers had chosen the Fennerians for "redemption," to be converted in their beliefs to accept Xant as their savior and the Redeemers as their undisputed masters.
"They are aware of theExcalibur' s presence in the sector," continued Soleta, "and have requested our help to stave off this intended conversion."
"At warp six, we can be there in thirty hours," Burgoyne said. "Sooner if I squeeze a bit more out of the engines."
"Thoughts, people?" said Calhoun.
"I don't see that we have a choice," said Si Cwan. He was speaking in such a calm, businesslike manner, that Calhoun would never have suspected the cross words they'd had earlier if he hadn't been there. "We have to extend aid."
"It would seem," observed Soleta, "the logical thing to do."
"It may not be easy," Burgoyne said. "We took a bit of a pounding back in the M'Gewn system. All systems are running, but to be up to maximum efficiency, we could really use time in a starbase."
"I thought you told me you had a handle on it, Burgy."
"I do, Captain. But having a handle on it for normal operations, and taking this ship into combat against another of those Redeemer heavy destroyers… it's not something I'm l
ooking forward to. For something like that, I wouldn't mind putting in some time for a major overhaul first. I'm not saying the ship is going to blow apart or anything from stress, but I certainly wouldn't mind skewing the odds in our favor a bit more."
"Time is of the essence," rumbled Kebron.
"I agree," said Si Cwan.
"We agree. Shoot me now."
Kebron's small joke drew a few smiles around the ready room. Calhoun looked to Shelby and said, "Commander, you've been rather quiet. Your thoughts?"
She didn't hesitate. "We help them, of course."
" 'Of course?' " Calhoun was clearly surprised.
"Yes, of course. We can't stand by and allow the Redeemers to subsume their culture."
"Actually," Calhoun said, "according to the Prime Directive, I thought that was precisely what we would have to stand by and do. As a matter of fact, in the M'Gewn situation, I seem to recall that you argued exactly that."
"Then, with all respect, captain, you do not recall correctly. M'Gewn was a different situation entirely. The M'Gewns were a warlike race who decided to take on the Redeemers, found themselves in over their heads, and called upon us to help them out. My contention was that they had brought their predicament upon themselves, and that it wasn't appropriate for us to bail them out."
"But there were strategic considerations," Si Cwan began.
Shelby put up a hand, cutting the conversation short. "It is pointless," she said, "to rehash something that is already done with. In any event, the situations are not analogous. I think we are obliged to help the Fennerians."
"Well, good. Good," Calhoun said. "All right… if we're all agreed. Mr. Kebron, have McHenry set course for Fenner. Inform them that we're on the way. Burgoyne… do what you can to make certain the ship is in the best possible condition, should we have to take her into battle."
"You'll have her fighting ready, Captain," Burgoyne said gamely.
"Good. The Redeemers," said Calhoun, interlacing his fingers on his desk, "have been our most persistent opponents since we arrived here. I suspect that matters are going to be building to a head. We have to be prepared for that. I want snap drills run in the various departments, just to keep everyone on their toes."
"You are assuming, then, captain, that however matters develop with the Redeemers, the only possible outcome will involve battle?" asked Shelby.
There was a subtle hint of challenge to her voice, so subtle that only Calhoun—from long practice—could detect it. "I think it likely, yes."
"Hmpf."
That was all she said. "Hmpf."
Calhoun looked at her through narrowed eyes, and then said, "All right. Everyone to their stations. Commander… a moment of your time, please."
"Of course, sir."
As soon as everyone else had cleared out, Calhoun sat back in his chair and regarded Shelby thoughtfully.
"Elizabeth… I sense there's something on your mind."
"I'm simply wondering why you called the meeting, Mac."
"Why I called it? To solicit opinions, of course."
"All right. Fine." She shrugged. "Are we done?"
"No, we're not done. To be honest, Eppy, you've been acting strangely ever since Riker was in charge for a short time. What's going on?"
"I was just impressed by his honesty, that's all."
He stared at her. "I'm not following you."
"Riker," she said, "had total disregard for everything I had to say. But he wasn't polite about it, the way you are. He was straightforward about it. It was blunt and rude and, in some ways, refreshing." He started to voice a protest, but she kept talking. "You already decided that we were going to help the Fenner. I'm positive you did. So why did you waste our time discussing something you had already decided? For form's sake? Since when did you care about that?"
"Since when did you stop caring about the Prime Directive? We both know that an argument can be made that we shouldn't help with the Fenner. They're not a member of the UFP, and their being targeted by the Redeemers doesn't automatically mean they're entitled to our aid."
She laughed at that. "You must really think I have no compassion at all, Mac. You do, don't you? You think I'm just some sort of walking rule book, tossing around regulations and not caring about the conditions under which people are living."
"And you apparently think that I do whatever I want, whatever impulse seizes me, without caring about what could happen as a result." He came around his desk and leaned on the edge, barely a foot away from her. "Well? Isn't that true?"
"Of course!" she said reasonably. "That's exactly what you do. You do whatever, whenever, however. That's been your method of operation from the moment you took command. What, don't tell me you're denying it. Or starting to waver from that. The Mackenzie Calhoun I know would not only agree with my assessment, he'd consider it a badge of honor."
"That doesn't render me incapable of listening to what my officers have to say."
"Mac, you know what?" She put her hands up and rose from her seat. "I'm tired. It's been a long day as it is. And I'm getting worn out."
"From what?"
"From acting as your conscience, Mac, and being ignored. From acting as the voice of reason, and being steamrolled over. Or you go on the assumption that I'm going to disagree with you, and even express shock when I don't, as if we couldn't possibly ever be of a like mind, or I couldn't think of something beyond the edges of the Starfleet rule book. I'm tired from trying to ride herd on you, and from the fighting. Fighting with you, fighting with Riker, fighting with Jellico. I feel like I'm in a rut, Mac. Like we both are. That we just go around and around, and I don't know if I'm doing you any good as your second in command, and I sure know I'm not doing myself any good. The hell with command at this point; I'm starting to believe it'll never happen, because maybe I just simply don't deserve it. But I know what I do want: I want more from life than fighting. I want… I…"
Calhoun didn't even know he was going to do it before he did it. He stepped forward, grabbed Shelby by the arms, and pulled her to him. Their bodies pressed together and she gasped into his mouth as he brought his lips down on hers. For a moment, just a moment, her instinct prompted her to fight, and then she just seemed to melt against him as they kissed each other hungrily, giving in to something that had underscored their entire relationship, but which they had both been hell-bent to avoid acknowledging.
She pulled back from him, then, her chest rising and falling rapidly. For a moment more he held her, and then he let her go, and she bumped up against a chair. She held the back of the chair as if to steady herself, and they regarded each other as if seeing each other for the first time… or perhaps reacquainting themselves after a lengthy absence.
"Where the hell did that come from?" she asked. Her breath was wavering and she sucked it in in order to steady it.
"I… don't know" he said. "It just… popped out."
"Mac…" Once more she took in a deep breath to steady herself, and when she let it out her voice still trembled slightly. "Look, I…"
"You don't have to say it. Bad idea. It was a bad idea." He had never felt quite so disoriented. "I just… I have a lot on my mind… and I was…"
"Looking for grounding?"
"Yes. Yes, exactly. That's all it was. Looking for grounding."
"Why?"
"It's not important. Nothing I want to discuss."
"Mac, perhaps it—"
"No," he repeated with more certainty. "It's nothing. Nothing I can't handle."
"It has to do with Xyon, doesn't it? Somehow, he—"
"Eppy," he said gently, placing his hands on her shoulders. "It's nothing. Really. I'm back to myself now."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"That's good to know, because I—"
This time, when he kissed her, she was a bit more prepared for it even though he wasn't. It lasted longer and was more intense on both sides, and when they parted they didn't hurry to distance themselves qu
ite as quickly as before.
"Mac…" she said steadily, smoothing her uniform jacket, "this… is inappropriate. You're the captain. I'm the first officer. We understood going into this…"
"I know. I know."
"I think we, and the ship, would be best served if we acted as if this never happened. With your kissing me, twice…"
"You kissed me back."
"No. I didn't."
"Yes, you did, Eppy. I should know, I was there."
"Mac, I didn't…" She closed her eyes. "I'm not going to discuss this. I'm just not."
"That's probably wise."
"I'm going off shift now."
"That's probably even wiser."
"If this happens again, I will have to consider filing a report."
"I would understand," said Calhoun.
"Promise me you won't do it again. Ever."
He considered her request. "No," he said.
"No, you won't do it again?"
"No, I can't promise. Eppy…"
"Mac…" She took a deep breath. "Please… you've always been someone I could count on … even when what I was counting on was that I couldn't count on you. So don't disappoint me, okay?"
"Okay."
She exited quickly, and Calhoun sagged against his desk. What the hell had just happened? How could he … ? How could he have lost control that way… ?
Was it really that much of a fight for him to resist kissing her? Was he really still that drawn to her? Or was it what she had said… that the arrival of Xyon had triggered things within him. Regrets, doubts. Those things that Xyon had said about his not loving anyone, about never having let anyone get close.
"I don't doubt myself," Calhoun said firmly, as if someone was listening in on him. "Never." The words sounded hollow, though, possibly because he had never felt the need to say them out loud before. The fact that he felt the need now somehow undercut the sentiment.
He turned the computer screen around and looked at the information about Fenner. In doing so, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, which was generally his reliable indicator that there was danger hovering nearby.
