by Peter David
“And you think he’s telling the truth? You believe him?”
“Yes, sir. I do. My opinion, however, would be purely subjective. Fortunately, a bioscan backs him up. We subjected him to intense questioning under computer analysis, and everything he says tracks. From a mental point of view, he blacked out. Technically, he can’t be held criminally responsible because he had no intent. He wasn’t in his right mind.”
“A very elegant defense, Kebron. Two things, however. First, you’re not his attorney, nor are you qualified to be. And second, criminal prosecution wasn’t the first thing on my mind. I’d like to think it wasn’t up there on Captain Shelby’s list, either,” and he looked questioningly to her.
She shook her head. “I’m just relieved no one was seriously injured during his rampage. We’re not out for vengeance here. We’re out to understand what the hell is going on.”
“Which is a challenge considering the subject of the inquiry doesn’t seem to have any more of a clue than we do.” Calhoun leaned back in his chair and looked to Shelby. “We’ve got a situation on our hands, wouldn’t you say, Captain?”
“That would be an understatement.” She shook her head. “Quite a security staff you have on your hands, Captain. One of them undergoes a personality change when he sheds his skin; the other has blackout periods during which he goes berserk and becomes a murderer.”
“It’s still not definite,” Kebron said defensively, “that he was responsible for the death of Lieutenant Commander Gleau.”
“Mr. Kebron, with all respect to your position and your loyalty to your officer, I think it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Janos did indeed do it,” Arex pointed out. “You’ve got someone with his DNA all over the crime scene and a track record of going out of his mind into berserker rages.”
“A berserker rage,” Kebron said. “We don’t know that it’s happened before.”
“I have the shredded body of one of my people,” said Shelby, making a very visible effort to remain patient. “I’m thinking we do know it’s happened at least once before.”
Kebron looked ready to protest again, but Calhoun interrupted him. “Zak…I’m as dedicated to Janos as you. More so. Nevertheless, we have to consider the situation not the way we wish it were, but instead the way it is. It’s reaching the point where defending Janos comes across more like denial of reality than searching out some sort of truth. I don’t want to believe it any more than you do, but let’s face facts: Janos killed Gleau.”
Kebron was on his feet, moving more swiftly than Calhoun would have thought possible. “So have you lost faith as well, Captain?”
“Sit down, Zak.”
“No! It is intolerable that—”
“I said…sit down.”
His voice was ice, his purple eyes flashing in anger, and this time Kebron sank back down into his seat.
Calhoun’s fingers were interlaced, his hands resting upon his desk. He spoke with pronounced, forced calm. “Faith, Lieutenant, is the province of religion. Faith is what you cling to in the absence of fact. In this case, we have far too many facts in hand. To draw any other conclusion than that Janos is responsible for the murder of Gleau is to fly in the face of those facts. It’s irrational. Faith is an admirable trait. It’s good to have faith in another person. But when faith is used as a substitute for reality, then it becomes a crutch for refusing to deal with that reality. If this investigation involved someone that you didn’t know and care about personally, on the basis of the evidence on hand, you wouldn’t think twice about having him locked away for good. You can’t apply a different standard of evidence simply because you have personal loyalty to the suspect.
“At this point, I think we have to abandon the position that Janos wasn’t responsible, because frankly I’m not interested in burying my head in that much sand. Are you?”
Kebron considered it for a long, long time. Calhoun didn’t rush him. To his mind, it was important to have Kebron honestly on board. Having a head of security involved with an investigation when he had a mind-set that flew in the face of all reasonable conclusions was hardly conducive to accomplishing anything.
Any number of times, Calhoun had heard someone die. It was always the same, with that faint surprised final sigh of life escaping from between their lips. Kebron made a similar, albeit not identical, noise now as he murmured, “All right.” Calhoun understood. Kebron was saying a final good-bye to something in which he had fervently believed, and staked much of himself upon. “All right,” he said again. “Let’s say that Janos was indeed responsible for the physical act of killing Gleau.”
“Physical?” said a puzzled Shelby. “There’s another aspect of it, aside from the physical?”
“It’s still possible,” Kebron pointed out, “that someone is controlling him. That someone has taken over his mind.”
“And was responsible for setting him on Gleau?” Arex asked. “And was even responsible for sending him into some sort of…of fugue state that sent him into a bestial rage?”
“Yes. Exactly. I’m saying our search for the murderer shouldn’t begin and end with Janos. We might be taking down the cat’s-paw while the cat gets away.”
“But how could this alleged ‘cat’ be doing it?” asked Shelby, looking from Kebron to Calhoun. “Is such a thing possible?”
“This is a wide galaxy filled with possibilities,” said Calhoun. “I think it’s difficult to rule out anything without thoroughly investigating it.”
“Okay,” Shelby said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “Okay, I can see that. The first thing to do is have Doc Villers check him over from stem to stern. Look for some evidence of an outside influence. See if there’s any trace of some sort of—I don’t know—tampering. A chip in his skull broadcasting directives would certainly be a step in the right direction. Perhaps she can monitor his brain waves so that, if he goes insane on us again, it will leave a trace of a controlling source.”
“That could work,” said Calhoun.
“There’s one thing we have to keep in mind, though,” Shelby continued, her tone serious. “Any further investigation has to be from the point of view that we’re trying to determine the truth, rather than simply doing whatever it takes to clear one of our own officers.”
“He’s my officer, Captain.”
“It’s Starfleet, Captain,” she replied. “We’re all part of the one group.”
“Yes, I know that. It’s—”
Calhoun’s combadge suddenly beeped. He tapped it. “Calhoun here.”
“Burgy here, Captain. You’re getting an incoming hail from Admiral Jellico.”
Calhoun let out a slow sigh that bore a striking resemblance to the sound Kebron had made moments ago. “Stall him, Burgy.”
“He said it was urgent.”
“Tell him I’m having sexual congress.”
“With your wife?”
“No, with Si Cwan. Yes, with my wife.”
“All right, Captain,” Burgoyne said reasonably. “How long shall I tell him to hold on?”
“Three minutes,” piped up Shelby. “If that.”
Calhoun fixed a level gaze on her as he said, “Burgy…just tell him I’ll be right with him.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Gentlemen,” and Calhoun indicated the door with a nod of his head. “If you wouldn’t mind…”
“Have Doc Villers get started on what we discussed, Arex.”
“Yes, Captain,” Arex said to Shelby.
Kebron went out the door first, and Calhoun thought that his shoulders looked decidedly more slumped than they were before. He hated to see the massive Brikar that way, but really…there just came a point where sometimes the blinders had to be tossed aside. Moments later, the two captains were alone in the conference lounge.
“Perfect,” Calhoun grumbled. “Just perfect. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about, I’ve got Jellico looking over my shoulder. How much does he know?”
“This was a homicide, Mac
,” replied Shelby. “Starfleet regs leave no wiggle room. I had to inform them immediately. And I’ve kept them apprised every step of the way since.”
“Thanks a lot, Eppy. You’re really doing me tremendous favors here.”
“I’ve said it often before, Calhoun, and maybe it hasn’t sunk in. Not everything is about you. I have a dead science officer and a part-time berserker suspect on my hands. I don’t need to be hauled in front of a board of inquiry and be grilled as to why I didn’t conduct the investigation in accordance with regs so I can explain that, gee, gentlemen, I was worried it might offend my husband’s delicate sensibilities. You’re telling Kebron he has to deal with reality? Deal with it yourself while you’re at it.”
“Fine,” he said.
“You always do that,” Shelby said in irritation. “Agree with me just to shut me up.”
“Typical female thinking,” shot back Calhoun. “If I disagree it’s because I’m not listening, and if I agree it’s because I don’t want to listen. Does that pretty much cover it?”
“Just take the damned communication from Jellico. He’s a man. You’ll like talking to him.”
He tapped the combadge and nearly snarled, “Calhoun to Burgoyne. Pipe Jellico down here.”
A moment later the scowling face of Admiral Jellico appeared on the screen. He looked as ill-humored as ever. Privately, Calhoun felt that someone should send an away team into Jellico’s ass, in order to determine just what had crawled up there and died years ago.
“Captain Calhoun,” said Jellico with forced politeness, and then his gaze flickered over to Shelby. “And Mrs. Captain Calhoun.”
“With all respect, Admiral, I prefer ‘Captain Shelby,’” she said, maintaining her reserve.
“Simply endeavoring to lighten a very difficult situation, Captain…Captains. Where do we stand on the Gleau murder? When are you bringing in the perpetrator, Janos?”
Shelby opened her mouth to answer, but Calhoun broke in before she could respond. “We don’t know for certain he is the perpetrator, Admiral.”
“My understanding is that the physical evidence is fairly clear-cut.”
“That’s true, sir,” Shelby said quickly, not allowing Calhoun to speak. “But since this incident runs contrary to Janos’s history, we believe there may be more to this than the surface would indicate. We need time to do a thorough investigation, to determine—”
But Jellico was putting up a hand, and she fell silent. “I’m afraid that time is a commodity you don’t have in abundance.”
“Meaning?” Calhoun asked.
“Meaning, Captains, that the Selelvians are outraged over the murder of one of their own.”
“You told them?”
“Yes, Captain Shelby, we told them,” said Jellico. “That is standard operating procedure. We have regulations and procedures that we have to obey, the same as anyone else…except, of course, for you, Captain Calhoun, who seem to feel that regulations are mere guidelines rather than rules, and exist to direct others while you follow your own impulses.”
“I’m pleased we’ve finally come to an understanding, Admiral,” Calhoun said, unperturbed.
“In any event,” he continued, “the Selelvians have demanded that Ensign Janos be turned over to them immediately for trial and execution.”
Shelby and Calhoun exchanged glances. “The Selelvians are aware, Admiral,” said Calhoun, “that the trial is theoretically supposed to determine the necessity of the execution, are they not?”
“Frankly, no, I don’t think they are,” Jellico said dryly. He didn’t seem to be any more pleased about it than they were, which gave them at least some faint stirring of hope.
“Have you told them we’re conducting an investigation?”
“Yes, Captain Shelby, we have. They stated they didn’t care. We told them we did, and if they didn’t like it, they could complain to the Federation.”
“Which…they did,” Calhoun surmised.
Jellico nodded. “That’s exactly right. The Selelvians are filing formal complaints with the Federation Council even as we speak. They’ve asked for an expedited hearing. If they’re granted that hearing, and if they convince the UFP of their position, then we’ll have no choice but to turn Ensign Janos over to them.”
“That’s insane.”
“No, Calhoun, that’s the political reality. Starfleet, in case you’ve forgotten, is the scientific, exploratory, and defensive agency of the United Federation of Planets. We answer to them. They tell us what to do, and we do it. They tell us ‘Warp,’ we ask them ‘How fast?’ That’s how this works. Their authority supersedes ours…and even yours. And if the UFP, in its wisdom, decides that they want to handle the Gleau matter, then that’s what happens.”
“They can’t just hand a Starfleet officer over to be executed. There’s only one regulation still on the books that calls for a death penalty, and last I heard, Janos hadn’t set foot on Talos IV.”
“True, Captain,” and Jellico actually sounded regretful. “For that matter, there’s no death penalty extant for crimes against humans, either. If Janos had killed a human, this wouldn’t be a problem. But he didn’t. He had the poor judgment, so the evidence indicates, to have killed a member of a race that’s a big believer in an eye for an eye. And if that race convinces the UFP, then we have no choice in the matter. Janos would have to be turned over to the Selelvians. That’s all there is to it.”
“It’s barbaric,” said Shelby, her hands almost trembling with suppressed anger.
“I agree,” Jellico said, very quietly. “And not only have I told my superiors at Starfleet that, but I have every intention of addressing the Federation Council and telling them the exact same thing. I’m going to do everything I can to keep this internal. Because I trust you to handle this business in a professional, fair, and thorough manner.”
Calhoun, in spite of himself, felt touched. “Thank you, Admiral.”
Jellico glanced at him dismissively. “I was talking to Captain Shelby, Calhoun. Not you.”
“Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw.”
“Yes, I get that, Admiral,” said Calhoun.
Looking back to Shelby, Jellico said, “Understand, Captain: I believe I’m fighting a losing battle on this one. But I’ll fight it anyway. Prepare yourself, though, for the very real likelihood that we’re going to lose this one. Jellico out.” And with that, his image blinked off the screen.
Calhoun sighed heavily and said, “We should have stuck with the idea of telling him we were having sex and couldn’t be disturbed. Well, this is just insane,” and he stood up and began to pace the room. “Look, if they say they want Janos, we just tell them no. That’s all. We need more time…”
“Mac,” Shelby reminded him, “you just got done telling Kebron how important it is to face the facts of any given situation. In this case the fact is that, as the admiral said, we’re going to lose Janos to the Selelvians. There’s always a possibility it won’t play out that way…but we have to adjust to the notion that it is. And we won’t be doing any of our people any good if we continue to deny it.”
“Yes, you’re right, of course,” he said, but his mind was racing a million miles away. And Shelby knew it. And he knew she knew it.
He wondered if she knew the sort of desperation ploys he was running through his head. Chances were she did. He liked the notion that she knew what was going on in his brain. He also hated it.
Then
i.
Shelby circled the interior of the rustic log cabin for what seemed the hundredth time and yet, despite that, she still felt intoxicated by the fresh air and sense of primal newness in the forest around her.
Wexler and she had been up there any number of times, but usually in the company of their parents. The Wexlers, whose cabin it was, loved having weekend excursions so that friends could “oooh” and “aaah” and admire the back-to-nature setting. Shelby re
membered being a mindless teenager and despising the purity of the woods around them, the towering redwood trees that threatened to brush against the clouds. Her attitude was that holosuites offered the exact same experience, except you could program them so as not to have irritating insects zipping around and getting in your face. Or you could adjust the temperature to be just so, or make sure the wind wasn’t going to muss your hair. She remembered her parents’ faces flushing in embarrassment, but the Wexlers just laughed and said their own son had had much the same comments, and youth should not be judged too harshly. That sounded pretty damned patronizing as far as Shelby was concerned, and she spent most of their first outing there closed in her room and watching vids.
Amazing how so few years had really passed during that time, and yet now she looked at the great outdoors as if seeing it for the first time. She was chagrined to imagine that whining, annoying voice coming out of her own mouth, and she had even apologized to her parents for her behavior of years earlier. Their response had been satisfied smirks.
“Betty!”
Wexler was standing in the door to the cabin, looking around. She came in from the opposite direction he was searching for her, stood there, and waited for him to look in her direction. He did so and started slightly, then grinned at having been so easily taken off guard. “Very amusing, dear,” he said.
“Thank you,” she replied, and kissed him on the cheek. Then she walked past him into the cabin.
Both of them were casually dressed in outdoor garb. It felt odd to Shelby, not wearing her Starfleet Academy uniform. She almost felt as if a teacher was going to burst in and give them demerits for being out of uniform. Shelby flopped onto a soft, comfortable couch. There was a large rug in the middle of the living room that looked like a gigantic bear skin. Upset by it as a teen, she’d been assured that it was purely a synthetic bear skin, no doubt removed from a synthetic bear. She still regarded the thing suspiciously, hoping that she hadn’t been lied to so she wouldn’t get upset. A fire was burning steadily in the fireplace, fueled by an unseen source, and the walls were decorated in rich shades of cedar.
