Dark Allies

by Peter David

  "That is very unlikely. Go to sickbay or go to sleep. Either way. But leave me alone."

  "Selar, perhaps—"

  "Burgoyne," and there was a faintly dangerous edge to her voice, "as much as you enjoy the pleasure of my company: If you make me come down there, I will kill you. Is that clear?"

  The word "but" died aborning in Burgoyne's mouth. Instead s/he rather wisely said, "Clear."

  "Excellent. Good night."

  With Selar's voice gone, Burgoyne leaned back in hir bed, moaned softly as hir stomach ached, and then rolled over as best s/he could and went back to a fitful sleep.

  V.

  CALHOUN LOOKED UP FROM HIS DESKin the ready room as Shelby walked in and stood there, her hands draped behind her. "You wished to see me, Captain?" she asked.

  "Yes," he sighed. He took a deep breath, rose, and said, "Commander… I wish to apologize, formally and for the record, for my inappropriate behavior of the other day. Our previous relationship prompted me to act incorrectly in this relationship. If you wish to file formal charges or grievances with Starfleet, I will freely admit to the—"

  "Oh, Mac, please, knock it off," she said. "Why are you saying all this?"

  "Because it is the right thing to say in accordance with regulations when one has given offense in the manner that I believe I did," Calhoun told her, "and since you've always been someone with great respect for the regs, I knew you'd appreciate it if I attended to them in this instance."

  She actually laughed softly. "Because you do it so infrequently, you mean?"

  "Partly, yes."

  "Mac," she said, "we have history. I took this position knowing that, and knowing that it might come up someday in our… interactions. And I know that you've been under a good deal of stress lately. You've held up under it well with your usual blend of stoicism and smart-ass remarks, but I know that Xyon's presence has been very difficult for you. Is it something you want to talk about?" she asked solicitously.

  "At the moment I'm too busy being stoic," he said. "But when I'm feeling sharper, perhaps then I will."

  "Okay. Well, the point is … I'm not dwelling on it."

  "You're not?"

  "No. I haven't given it a moment's thought since it happened. It's not like I'm losing sleep over it."

  "Well, that's…" He smiled. "That's good to hear. I think we have a fairly solid working relationship here, Commander. I would hate to think I'd jeopardized it."

  "You haven't. Don't give it another thought."

  She extended a hand then, and he shook it firmly.

  And that was when they heard the massive sneeze. They looked at each other and Calhoun said, "What was that?"

  Suddenly Kebron's voice filtered through. "Captain… Kebron here. Your attention, please."

  "Right there, Mr. Kebron."

  "We're on final approach for Fenner," said Shelby as Calhoun came around the desk. "It's probably in regard to that. Let's hope it's not too big a problem."

  "We can hope it, but let's expect that it is."

  They walked out onto the bridge and Kebron said, without preamble, "Captain, long range sensors have detected—"

  From his command chair in the center of the bridge, Calhoun put up a hand to momentarily quiet Kebron. "Let me guess," he said. "A Redeemer war vessel."

  "Yes, sir."

  Shelby turned to Calhoun and said, "Good guess, sir."

  "It wasn't a guess. Are we close enough for a visual?"

  "Puddin it onscreen, Cabdin," said Robin Lefler from ops.

  Calhoun and Shelby both turned to Lefler, and Calhoun was mildly appalled at what he saw. Her eyes were puffy, the edges of her nose red and crusting. Her lips were chapped. "Good lord, what's happened to you, Ensign?"

  "Nothin, Cabdin. Uhm fine."

  "You're not fine. You look like an elephant sat on your face."

  "Very colorful description, Captain," Shelby said, wincing.

  "Ids juza liddle cold."

  "Well, look at her, for pity's sake! The poor woman can barely breathe. Ensign, get down to sickbay."

  "Uhm nod sick," she said stubbornly.

  From conn, Mark McHenry said, "I've been telling her to clear out of here; she wouldn't listen to me, sir. If she were any more in denial, she'd be Cleopatra."

  There were blank stares from everyone on the bridge.

  "Denial. The Nile," McHenry explained. "Cleopatra was Queen of—"

  "We get it, Lieutenant," said Shelby. "We're just not sure why you thought it was funny."

  "Lefler, get out of here, now. That's an order," said Calhoun, having had enough. "Boyajian, take over at ops."

  Lefler tried to protest, but momentarily choked on a wad of phlegm and thus was unable to put forward anything approaching a convincing argument. Giving in to the inevitable, she got up from her post and headed into the turbolift. Meanwhile, Boyajian eased into the ops station and moments later an image of Fenner appeared on the screen.

  "Where is …" began Calhoun, but then he pointed.

  "I see it. Right there."

  Moving in slow orbit around the planet, and coming into view from the other side, was a Redeemer vessel.

  Calhoun gave a low whistle and said, "Big son of a bitch. If Burgoyne wasn't happy about the prospect of going into battle with a standard Redeemer warship, s/he's really going to hate this. Soleta, give me a full scan. Are there any others around?"

  Soleta fed the tactical array through her science station. "No, sir."

  "Any possibly hanging in warp space? Or with a cloak?"

  "Not detecting any approaching vessels. No emissions outputs that would suggest a cloak."

  "Still," Kebron added gravely, "anything's possible."

  "I know."

  "Captain, it's breaking out of orbit. Heading for us at a slow intercept course."

  "Slow, Mr. Boyajian?"

  "She's not moving in any sort of aggressive manner, sir. We are not targeted, nor are they running weapons hot. They're just … heading this way."

  "To let us know that they've spotted us," suggested Shelby.

  Calhoun nodded. "And we've spotted them. So far, we're even. Mr. Kebron, take us to yellow alert. I won't take the first aggressive action, but I'm sure as hell going to be prepared."

  "Going to yellow alert, aye," affirmed Kebron. Within moments, the entire ship was at a state of preparedness. The shields were on line, although none of the phasers or photon torpedos had been brought to bear.

  "Scan their ship. Do they have sufficient fire power to overwhelm us?" asked Calhoun.

  "Short answer: Yes," said Kebron after a moment.

  Out of curiosity, Calhoun asked, "What's the long answer?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Ah."

  "Their weapons still remain offline," said Soleta from her station. "They're not doing anything threatening. In point of fact, we're taking the more threatening posture at the moment."

  "Possibly because we feel more threatened," commented Shelby.

  "Nor have they raised shields," said Soleta. "Thus far they've yet to take any offensive or defensive action at all."

  "Sir," Kebron said abruptly. "We're being hailed by the Redeemer vessel."

  "Are we now? How very interesting. All right, Lieutenant. Put them onscreen. Let's see what they have to say."

  The screen wavered for a moment … and then Calhoun was looking at someone who had a face so dark it was almost obsidian, and red eyes that seemed to glow with an almost unholy fire. "Captain Mackenzie Calhoun," he said. He was speaking so softly that Calhoun had to strain to hear. He had a feeling that was the point.

  "I'm Captain Calhoun. And you are … ?"

  "I … am the Overlord of the Redeemers."

  Shelby and Calhoun exchanged glances. There was clear surprise on her face. "The Overlord himself," said Calhoun. "You are the leader of the Redeemers, as I recall."

  "That is correct."

  "Should I feel honored … or worried?"

  "A bit of bo
th." Something resembling a smile actually passed over the Overlord's face. "As I'm sure your very capable instrumentation has already informed you, we are not approaching you in any sort of aggressive fashion. I was hoping that we might … talk."

  "We are talking."

  "In person."

  Calhoun could feel all eyes from the bridge crew upon him. "In person?"

  "Yes. Face to face. My shuttle vessel stands ready to bring me and my entourage over to you."

  "It is my understanding," Calhoun said slowly, "that such an action can have a certain degree of risk attached to it. I seem to recall, for example, that if the blood of a Redeemer is spilled, that releases a virus capable of wiping out an entire planet's population in a fairly short time. How do I know that such a device wouldn't be brought aboard the ship. You may be simply endeavoring to destroy us in a new and simplified manner."

  "I appreciate your caution and borderline paranoia, Captain."

  "There's an old saying, Overlord: Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't out to get you."

  "I daresay. Indeed, I daresay. Very well, then. It is my understanding that your matter transport devices are equipped with an array of screens designed to detect and eliminate any such potentially hazardous contagions. Instead of coming to you in my shuttle vessel—as decorum would dictate—I shall allow myself and my associates to be brought over via your transporter. Before rematerializing us, you can scan our molecular make-up for any inappropriate viruses or similar contagions that could present a threat to you." He smiled once more. It was not a comforting facial expression. "I am bearing all the risk now, captain. After all, once I am in the grip of your transporter beams, I am entirely at your mercy. You could disperse our molecules over half the sector if you took a mind to. Deal the Redeemers a devastating blow by doing away with their leader with just the touch of a transporter control. If I am willing to incur risks, should you not be willing to as well? Particularly considering that—admit it—you are intrigued to know why I would want to meet with you."

  "That is certainly true enough," said Calhoun. "All right, Overlord. I think a face-to-face meeting can be arranged. Provided you tell me, ahead of time, what the reason for the meeting is."

  "That is simple. The reason is nothing less than the preservation of the Redeemer race … and it is entirely possible that only you can help us."

  "Let them die!"

  It was the fifth time that Si Cwan had said that in as many minutes. He was walking down the corridor next to Calhoun, with Shelby on the other side of the captain. "Do you have any idea how much strife those obsidian bastards have caused the Thallonians? Going around space, converting people to worship of their precious Xant on pain of death. They're monsters! And if they're in some sort of trouble, then we would be monsters for helping them."

  "And eighty years ago, the Klingon homeworld underwent an ecological disaster, prompting them to launch a major peace initiative," Shelby pointed out. "And there were lots of people in the Federation who were saying the exact same thing you are right now, Ambassador. But the Klingons wound up becoming the staunchest allies the Federation ever knew. And the lesson to be learned from that—"

  "Is that you were all damned lucky. The Klingons could just as easily have used the respite to rebuild their empire and attack you with newer and greater aggressiveness. Just because you were fortunate once doesn't mean you should count on it again. Besides, it was one thing when the entirety of the Klingon Empire was approaching the entirety of the Federation. This is the entirety of the Redeemers, incarnated in their supreme leader, approaching a lone ship who has proven to be a source of constant irritation and embarrassment. There is no upside here, Captain. Either it's a trick that we're falling into, or else they really do need our help, in which case we'd be fools to provide it."

  "I'm going to listen to them, Si Cwan. It's about time that you dealt with that fact. Just because I'm listening, however, doesn't mean I'm throwing caution to the wind. So calm down."

  Si Cwan rolled his eyes. "Madness. It is madness."

  They entered the transporter room and stopped. Zak Kebron was standing there, arms folded. "Lieutenant, how did you get here before us?" asked Calhoun. "You left the bridge a few moments after us." This was not unusual practice for Kebron; because of his bulk, he did not fit comfortably in the turbolift with others and avoided it if he could.

  "I hurried," said Kebron.

  Shelby cast a confused glance at transporter chief Polly Watson, who smiled and shook her head. "He contacted me from the bridge and asked me to beam him down here."

  "She lies," Kebron said archly.

  Calhoun didn't pursue it.

  Standing next to Watson was Burgoyne, who inclined hir head in greeting. Burgoyne's presence didn't surprise Calhoun at all. Whenever there was anything unusual in the offing for a transport, Burgoyne tended to be present.

  "Well, Watson?" asked Calhoun. "Have we heard from the Redeemers?"

  From behind the transporter controls, she said briskly, "I have their coordinates, sir. Ready to beam them over."

  "Where's Dr. Selar?"

  The door hissed open and Selar stepped slowly in. Calhoun looked at her. She looked like an overripe melon. He did not, however, say that. "Thank you for joining us, Doctor." He noticed that although Burgoyne wasn't taking hir eyes off Selar, the doctor was barely glancing at hir. Trouble in paradise, it seemed.

  She nodded, and then said, "Understand this caveat, Captain: I have had no opportunity to perform detailed research of Redeemer physiology. I can provide some degree of guidance, but there are no absolutes in this instance."

  "You're saying that if somehow they trick us and, within minutes of their showing up on this vessel, we're all dead … don't come crying to you about it."

  "That is basically correct, yes."

  "Your 'caveat' is duly noted, Doctor. All right, Watson. Commence beam-over."

  If she had the notion that she might well be beaming over something that would destroy everyone on the ship, she didn't give any indication of it. Instead Watson simply said, "Energizing."

  The transporter beams hummed to life and the pads flickered in their customary fashion. And then, after a few moments, Watson said, "All right … freezing the transport, as ordered. They're in stasis." Burgoyne checked the readings and nodded hir approval.

  Calhoun and Shelby stepped aside as Selar waddled to the pattern scanners. "All right … let us see what we have."

  "Bio readings coming through now."

  Selar's eyes narrowed as she took it all in. "There are three of them," she said after a moment. "Hmm. Interesting physiology. I will probably want to study these at my leisure. Their circulatory system is—"

  "With all respect, Doctor, is this remotely pertinent to the issue at hand?" asked Shelby.

  "Very likely not." She studied the patterns for what seemed a very long time. But no one was inclined to rush her. Not for a matter of such significance, at any rate. "Keeping in mind the cautions I presented to you earlier … I do not detect, anywhere in their bodies, any sort of organism or entity that could be interpreted as a virus. Not in any form, active or inactive."

  "So you think we can materialize them here and be safe."

  "No, I think you can reassemble them in the heart of the Fennerian sun and be safe. If you bring them on, there remains a risk of something that I have overlooked. Not that I do not appreciate your putting this much pressure on me, Captain, that the likelihood of whether everyone on this ship will live or die is resting largely on my say-so. That is, after all, why I have taken on this position. To provide expert advice while commanding officers try to determine whether they should risk the lives of all aboard."

  There was dead silence for a moment. Calhoun glanced warily at Shelby. She shrugged.

  "All right … thank you for your insight, Doctor," Calhoun told her. "Let's bring them aboard, Watson."

  "Aye, sir."

  The transporter beams shimmered
to life once more after having kept the Redeemers in stasis, and the three of them appeared on the transporter pad.

  For a moment, Calhoun thought that the time in stasis had had some sort of adverse effect on them, or perhaps Watson had simply screwed up. For the Redeemers had to be the shortest master race he had ever met. The Overlord barely came to Calhoun's chest.

  "Greetings," said the Overlord. "Did you do as I suggested, Captain? Keep us in stasis and scan us?"

  "Yes, we did."

  "Impressive. For us the process was instantaneous. This," he indicated the Redeemer to his right, "is my assistant, Prime One. And this is a nameless retainer."

  "I see. Well, we here on theExcalibur all have names. This is Commander Elizabeth Shelby. This is Doctor Selar, our chief medical officer. Zak Kebron, head of security. Chief Engineer Burgoyne 172. Transporter chief Polly Watson. And this is—"

  "Lord Si Cwan." The Overlord had bowed slightly to each of them in turn, but to Si Cwan he bowed the most deeply. "We have had dealings in the past. I see that you have turned to this vessel for aid, Lord Cwan, just as we have done. On that basis, I imagine that you can be expected to be sympathetic to our cause."

  "I would rejoice in the annihilation of your race," Si Cwan said.

  Calhoun sighed inwardly.

  "Your antipathy is understandable, Lord Cwan." The Overlord studied Selar for a moment. "By the distention of the middle of your body, can I take it to indicate that you are with child?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm the father," Burgoyne said, sounding rather cheerful about it. Selar remained stoic, as always, but Calhoun thought he detected a slight rolling of her eyes.

  Then, to Calhoun's surprise, the Overlord suddenly put one hand on Selar's stomach and the other on Burgoyne's shoulder. Kebron took a quick step forward, clearly concerned over some sort of attack, but the Overlord closed his eyes and said mildly, "May the wisdom of Xant be given this child. May he bring pride to you in all his future endeavors." He removed his hands then and bowed once more in Selar's direction, then Burgoyne's, and then turned to Calhoun and said, "What good comes from anything that we do … unless there is a new generation to do it for? Don't you agree, Captain?"