by Peter David
“Don’t sing him songs of self-sacrifice,” said the Bolgar. “He’s doing it in order to find a way out of this sphere for his ship.”
“That doesn’t matter! Whatever the reason, he’s doing it so other people’s lives will be better! And the two of you shouldn’t be trying to kill each other!”
“He’s right.” Calhoun had managed to speak, even though his voice sounded as if he were whispering to them from the other side of the grave. “You can…either act as if you were both put in this…this sphere…for mutual aid…or mutual annihilation. If it’s the former…then that’s what I’m trying…to push you toward. If it’s the latter…then that’s what I’ve guaranteed you…this day. So either way…you win…”
He gasped, trying to draw in air, and he tried to haul himself to his feet. “Running out of time…out of…this is…this is insane…you can…stop this…stop before it’s…”
And then Calhoun stumbled forward and crashed heavily to the floor, like a sack of rocks. He lay there, facedown, arms and legs splayed.
“Do something!” Moke shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber. “Make him stop this! Please!”
“They won’t,” Xyon said harshly, his voice dripping with contempt. “The only thing that matters is their mutual hatred.”
“You know nothing of us,” said the Bolgar.
“I know enough. I’ve seen your kind all over our galaxy. It’s nice to know that stupidity and destructive pride are universal constants.”
There was silence then, punctuated only by the rasping of Calhoun’s labored breathing.
“Let us speak,” said the Bolgar.
“I am listening,” replied the Teuthis. Then he glanced at Calhoun and added, “And were I you, I would talk quickly.”
New Thallon
i.
Fhermus appeared happy to see them. That, as far as Robin Lefler was concerned, could not possibly be a good sign.
When the Trident had first approached New Thallon, there were a number of ships barring the way. This had naturally made Lefler somewhat nervous, because she disliked the notion of the Trident having to fight its way through an assortment of vessels. But when they had identified themselves to authorities from New Thallon hailing them, the revelation that Robin herself was aboard the vessel seemed to produce an immediate reaction. The message that returned to the Trident, however, was one that sent a chill up Robin’s spine.
“Our lord Fhermus welcomes a landing party from the Trident , and is especially anxious to greet Lieutenant Commander Lefler upon her return to her adopted home.”
This dispatch caused a good deal of uncertainty upon receipt. Kat Mueller’s reaction was immediate: “You shouldn’t go down there,” she said, seated in her command chair on the bridge. “This is ‘come into my parlor’ language, and I have no desire to see you be the fly to their spider.”
“What’s the alternative?” Robin demanded. “That I stay up here and cower because Fhermus said I was welcome?”
“We don’t know what we’re going to find when we beam down there.”
“When do we ever?” she asked reasonably.
Mueller exchanged a glance with Shelby, who shrugged. “She’s got a point,” said Shelby.
“I’m just saying that I’m suspicious of someone who appears that happy to see you…especially when he has no reason to,” said Mueller. “Which means that he probably does have a reason, and it’s not one that we’re going to like particularly.”
“Si Cwan is down there,” Lefler said firmly. “He’s my husband.”
“A husband who forced you to leave your home under armed escort.”
“Because he was concerned about me. However ineptly he expressed that concern, that was still what motivated him. I’m no less concerned about him now, and I do not choose to express that concern by waiting up here on the Trident to see how it all turns out.”
“You do,” Mueller reminded her, “if I say you do.”
Robin looked appealingly toward Shelby, but the admiral shook her head. “This is her ship, Robin. I’m not going to countermand her judgment.”
“But Admiral—”
“You could try respectfully requesting.”
It was Romeo Takahashi who had spoken up. Everyone on the bridge looked to him as he sat there calmly at ops, his tone devoid of its usual affected drawl. “That’s what I’d do,” he continued calmly. “You want something of a commanding officer…you show respect. No disrespect intended to you, Robin. I’m just saying, is all.” But he wasn’t looking at Robin. Instead his gaze was fixed upon Mueller, whose own face was unreadable.
Lefler turned back to Mueller, and then squared her shoulders. In the most formal tone she could adopt, she said, “Captain, I am respectfully requesting permission to go ashore.”
Mueller looked as if she was about to snap off an answer, but instead sighed heavily. “All right,” she said. “But I’ll be there with you.”
“Captain,” Commander Desma immediately spoke up. “As first officer—”
“I know what you’re going to say, Commander. God knows I said it enough times to the admiral over there when I was her first officer. This time, however, I’m going to use some of that famed prerogative you may have heard about back in Starfleet Academy. Arex,” she continued before Desma could protest, “you’re with me. First Officer, you have the conn.”
She started to rise to head for the turbolift when Desma said insistently, “Captain, with all respect, I must protest.”
“The decision’s made, I’m going down—”
“Yes, Captain, you’ve made that clear. My protest centers on the fact that I should not have the conn. We have a ranking officer on board, and one who has commanded this vessel before.” She nodded toward Shelby. “By all rights, in the absence of her captain, the Trident should be commanded by Admiral Shelby.”
Mueller paused. Her normally stoic expression cracked ever so slightly toward a smile, and then she gestured toward the command chair. “You heard the lady,” she told Shelby.
Shelby looked as if she was about to protest as well, but then she merely shrugged and took her place in the command chair. Lefler couldn’t help but notice that there was a serenity in Shelby’s face that hadn’t been there before. When Mueller, Lefler, and Arex headed out to beam down to the planet’s surface, Lefler wasn’t even sure if Shelby knew they had left.
“Hello, baby,” Shelby whispered, rubbing the armrests affectionately. “Did you miss me?”
ii.
Lefler, Mueller, and Arex materialized, not within the main palace of New Thallon, but a distance away at a sort of central receiving point. This was at the specific request of Fhermus, who made it clear he didn’t want Federation personnel popping in and out of thin air right in the midst of his people. “There are protocols involved,” was all that the Trident was told, although what those protocols might be was never specified.
An armed escort of five men met them there. Three of them were Thallonian and two bore the gleaming gold skin of Nelkarites. Robin found that somewhat disturbing, particularly in the way they kept glancing at her. Mueller, for her part, appeared unfazed. Her tone was firm and commanding. When she told them briskly, “Bring us to Fhermus immediately,” one of the guards replied in a harsh tone, “You mean Lord Fhermus?”
She fixed a withering glance on him and said, “No. I mean immediately.” The guard met her gaze for a moment and then looked down. He wound up taking the lead in the escort, apparently desiring to be as far from Mueller as possible. Lefler caught Mueller’s eye and Mueller gave her a fast wink. It almost made Robin laugh aloud since it was so unexpected.
As they approached the mansion, Lefler saw that repairs were under way. She also noticed that workers would glance toward her and then look away as if reluctant to maintain eye contact.
“So what exactly is our plan?” Robin asked in a low voice.
“Plan?”
“How are we going to get Si Cwan away from
them?”
“Well,” Mueller replied, “I was thinking something as simple as that we demand to see him, they bring him to us, and then we all beam up to the Trident.”
“That all sounds workable,” said Robin. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
“Well…if we’ve thought of that, certainly they’ll have thought of it as well.”
Mueller nodded. “I know. That has occurred to me.”
“Do you think they’ve found a way to counter it?”
“I’m worried they may have, yes.” But she would not go into any further speculation than that.
iii.
“Lieutenant Commander! How lovely to see you again!”
Fhermus’s display of ebullience upon seeing her did anything but put Robin at ease. Then again, she had a feeling that it wasn’t designed to.
Robin, along with Mueller and Arex, had been escorted to the central council chamber, the home of what had been—should have been—the New Thallonian Protectorate. They were standing in the outer rim, the customary spectators’ position. Fhermus was standing in his usual spot dead center, making the absence of Si Cwan all the more stark in comparison since Cwan was usually on the opposite side of the table from him.
She noticed that there were open seats in the council chamber. Obviously there were those of Si Cwan’s allies who were not yet on the same page as Fhermus and his associates.
What was most appalling to her was that the residents of New Thallon were not rising up in outrage against the despicable treatment that Si Cwan had received at the hands of his erstwhile “friends.” It seemed incomprehensible to her: Here this damned Fhermus had bombed New Thallon, and then betrayed its leader, but the inhabitants seemed more willing to throw in their lot with their assailant than the man whose job it was to protect them.
Then again, perhaps it wasn’t too bizarre to understand at that. It was just a matter of comprehending the Thallonian mind-set. As far as they were concerned, Si Cwan was a failed protector. Legends might have arisen about him, and in any number of places in Thallonian space his mere presence was enough to make jaws drop and onlookers fall to one knee. But it’s said that no one is a hero in his own home, and as far as the residents of New Thallon were concerned, Si Cwan didn’t have the greatest track record in the galaxy. Not only did their original homeworld of Thallon get smashed to space dust on his watch, but he was the one responsible—either through his actions or those of his sister—for the bombing that had besieged them not long ago. Granted, Fhermus had been doing the bombing, but the citizenry can view things very oddly, and there might well be the general belief that Si Cwan had provoked it. That Thallonians had died because Si Cwan’s sister had had a fatal argument with her husband on their wedding night.
She could just imagine the discussion among Thallonians. “His sister has a homicidal urge on her honeymoon, and we die because of it!” That concept alone would undoubtedly lead to lengthy discussions centering on many more of Si Cwan’s transgressions, real or imagined. Plus there was the practicality aspect of it. If Si Cwan, the alleged protector of the Thallonians, was unable to keep them safe from attacks by their enemies, what better way to forestall attacks than by welcoming that same enemy into your bosom?
The very notion of it—tossing aside their prince, their lord Si Cwan, in exchange for this launcher of cowardly terrorist attacks—made Lefler bristle in indignation. But she knew all her bristling wouldn’t make the slightest difference to the present situation. Instead what she had to do was remain calm and stay on top of her feelings in the matter.
She remembered what Si Cwan’s people had done to Xyon while he was in their possession. She had no reason to assume they would be any more gentle in their treatment of Si Cwan. She had steeled herself for anything.
Fhermus was gesturing expansively for them to approach. “Come, come,” he called out. “There is nothing to be afraid of. We are all allies here. All of New Thallon is united in our desire for peace, prosperity, and a new direction for the New Thallonian Protectorate…although,” he added with a wink to his associates, “I admit there is some discussion of transforming the name into the New Nelkarite Protectorate. But that is merely in the talking stages.”
“Indeed,” said Mueller as she approached Fhermus, Lefler and Arex following her. “How nice to hear from you that all of New Thallon is behind you.”
“Yes, yes…”
“Although,” continued Mueller, nodding toward Arex, “my security head here has been monitoring transmissions and such on your world, and I’m not exactly hearing tales of total unity. What I’m hearing about are stories of resistance. Of your soldiers trying to seize hold of, and control, various cities on New Thallon, and not exactly having the easiest time of it.”
Fhermus waved dismissively. “Insurrectionists. Last gasps of rebellion. They should be snuffed out within days, once they’ve been made to realize that we’ve relieved them of a weak and uncertain ruler.”
“Si Cwan was not their ruler, as I understand it,” said Mueller. “He was a co-counsel with you. With all of you,” and she took in the lot of them with a cold gaze. “He willingly shared his power.”
“That merely underscored his weakness of resolve,” replied Fhermus. “His people have now realized that.”
“His people don’t know which way is up or down,” Robin said, stepping forward. She felt buoyed by what Mueller had just said, for she had been unaware that the entirety of New Thallon had not simply fallen in line behind Fhermus and his thugs. “The fact that you’ve taken the capital here means nothing. You’re nothing but an occupying force on this world, outnumbered and outgunned. Occupations always fail. Always.”
“Really.” Fhermus chuckled at that. “I seem to recall the Klingons have created rather successful occupying forces in the past.”
“That’s who you wish to model yourself upon?” demanded Arex, his face distorted in a grimace. “The Klingons?”
Lefler didn’t entirely blame Arex for his attitude. He had, after all, fallen through time from a distant past in which Klingons were still bitter enemies of the Federation. Even though he had been in the present for several years, he was still working on adjusting to the notion that Klingons were Federation allies.
“I’m modeling myself on no one,” Fhermus replied. “I’m simply saying that the Thallonian people will adjust.”
“Where’s Si Cwan?” said Mueller.
“Ah. I was wondering when we would get to that.”
“Then wonder no more.”
“If you’d like a record of his last great adventure as ruler of New Thallon,” said Fhermus casually, “then treat yourself to this.” He tossed a data crystal toward them, which Arex promptly reached out and snagged. “It’s very entertaining. Si Cwan battling some sort of monster. It’s a very good fake; our researchers have been unable to figure out how he did it. I suspect something as simple as a hologram. After all, he did install a holosuite for you, his loving wife. Not difficult to put together a monster-hunting scenario in that venue, is it.”
“We saw how you treated him in your broadcast,” Robin said. “It was appalling. Revolting.”
“And yet revolt was what we desired to quell. Our hope was that Lord Cwan would be more cooperative. Such did not turn out to be the case.” Fhermus shrugged as if it were a minor matter.
“Where is he?” said Lefler. She stepped around Mueller, bringing herself to within a few steps of Fhermus. She was repulsed by his arrogance and smug satisfaction.
Fhermus smiled at her. “He’s dead.”
A silence fell upon the room, and Robin felt a distant buzzing in the back of her skull. For just a heartbeat—for reasons she didn’t yet comprehend—she suddenly wasn’t in the council chamber. She was back at Starfleet Academy, she was in a course, and an instructor was intoning, Officially, we don’t teach you this…officially, this is not in the curriculum…
Then she was back, jolted to reality by Mueller’s harsh
response: “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” asked Fhermus, his face the picture of innocence, as if he were stunned that anyone would accuse him of such a thing.
…ultimately, our job is not only to prepare you for going into space…but coming back in one piece…
She felt as if her mind were splitting. She was hearing what Fhermus was saying, but as if through a distance of years, her thoughts ricocheting back to the Academy…
“Yes,” Mueller said firmly. “You wouldn’t be that stupid. You must have some idea of the danger involved in turning Si Cwan into a martyr.”
“Yes, I do have an idea of that danger. By the same token, I also have a fairly clear idea of the danger involved in keeping someone like Si Cwan alive. He is very resourceful, and sooner or later, he would have managed to overcome whatever restraints or predicaments we put him in and come looking for my head…”
…these techniques are for defense only, and are to be used only in matters of last resort…when it’s your opponent or you, and you are unarmed or in such close quarters that you can’t draw your weapon…
Fhermus reached down under the round table at which he was standing and brought up something covered with a cloth, positioned upon a platter.
…there are, of course, wide varieties of alien biology, so not every move is going to work on every opponent. This, however, is a fairly effective technique on seventy percent of known humanoids, effectively crushing the breathing apparatus and bringing death within thirty seconds…
He gripped the top of the cloth, like a magician about to perform a trick…
…now…face your holosimulation opponent…
…and whipped it off with a flourish, and the world spun sideways around Robin as she looked into the dead eyes set in Si Cwan’s head, which sat square in the middle of a gleaming bronze tray, and it was a joke or a hoax, it had to be, it wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real, and she reached out to touch it, to shove her finger deep into its fake flesh, and she knew the moment she touched its cold red surface that it was him, it was her husband, and every second of the time that she had known him from the moment she’d first set eyes upon him on the Excalibur slammed through her mind, and Mueller was shouting something in outrage at Fhermus, but Robin couldn’t hear her because the pounding between her ears was too loud, and Fhermus’s laugh was cutting through the noise, and Robin fought the urge to scream because she knew she wouldn’t stop, not ever, and she didn’t even remember picking up Cwan’s head, and cradling it in the crook of one elbow as she turned toward Fhermus, who was still laughing, and there was applause from all around them by the allies who apparently thought the expression on Robin’s face was simply priceless, and Fhermus was saying something about Si Cwan begging for mercy at the end…
