by Peter David
“They left.”
“I did not see them leave.”
“No. You would not. It does not matter. Nothing matters save for the fact that our lives are about to take a very positive, upward turn.”
“What?”
He takes her by the shoulders. “You will understand later. You said you had something you needed to tell me?”
“Yes.” She smiles broadly. “I’m pregnant.”
He stares at her, astounded, and then grins. “This day is turning out very differently than I thought it was going to.”
Excalibur
i.
ZAK KEBRON HATED the fact that the fitness center in the Excalibur was of no use to him. The exercise equipment in there simply provided no test for him.
Instead, when he felt the need to work out, he used the holodeck. It was a fairly simple program that he had created: a large exercise room that was filled with weights that could actually present a challenge to him. He was busy undertaking the challenge now, lying on his back on the deck, lifting barbells that were hundreds of kilograms.
The equipment was the only thing in the holodeck; he saw no need to construct an artificial background. The glowing squares of the walls surrounded him and he actually took some personal pleasure in that. The low, steady light helped to relax him and enable him to focus on his task of weight lifting.
He looked up in surprise when he heard an unusual noise and then realized immediately what it was. It was the sound of the Dayan transporter beam. Seconds later, Cabros materialized in the holodeck, standing a meter away from Kebron.
“Cabros,” said Kebron, getting to his feet. “What are you doing h—?”
He didn’t have the time to complete the sentence.
Kebron gasped in surprise as Cabros slammed into him. The impact drove him several meters back, and he almost stumbled, but managed to hold his footing. He had no idea where to look first as blows came from all directions, pummeling his upper body mercilessly.
The fortunate thing was that Kebron barely felt it. His rock-hard skin made the punches being inflicted upon him of minimal pain. It was, however, extremely disorienting. He felt as if his senses were beginning to desert him, the world spinning around him.
“What’s going on?” he managed to say, but Cabros did not relent. Instead he continued to pound away on Kebron.
Zak managed to snag one of Cabros’s wrists, and he twisted as fast as he could. The move managed to fling Cabros across the deck, sending him skidding to the far side of the holodeck. Cabros shook it off as he leaped to his feet.
“Why are you attacking me?” demanded Kebron.
“You beat me,” said Cabros with a snarl. “No one beats me.”
He charged straight at Kebron.
For a moment, Kebron considered letting Cabros win. Why not? It made no difference to Kebron. If he simply pretended that Cabros had pummeled him into unconsciousness, then Cabros could feel good about himself and Kebron could continue with his workout.
As quickly as the thought flittered across Kebron’s mind, he dismissed it. On the one hand, he felt sympathetic to Cabros’s injured pride. On the other hand, he realized that he really didn’t give a damn about it. He hadn’t picked a fight with the Dayan. Cabros had been ordered to attack him by his commanding officer. Having done what he had been ordered to do, that should have been the end of it. Obviously it was not. That meant that Cabros certainly had some serious issues, none of which were especially Kebron’s problem.
Fortunately Kebron saw another solution readily at hand.
“Computer, run program 22K,” he called out.
Cabros took two steps toward Kebron and suddenly the floor of the holodeck was gone. Instead there was nothing but icy water beneath him, and an instant later he sank.
Kebron glanced around and nodded approvingly. The holodeck had transformed into a vast arctic wasteland. Kebron himself was standing on an ice floe that was drifting in the middle of the Arctic Ocean, while Cabros had wound up directly above the ocean itself and had immediately gone under.
Kebron watched and waited and a few moments later, Cabros’s head broke the icy surface. “Help!” he managed to gasp out, and then immediately went under once more.
There was more splashing and thrashing about, and then Cabros managed to fight his way to the surface again.
“You can’t swim?” called Kebron.
“What is swim?!” Cabros managed to shout before he submerged yet again.
At that moment, doors opened about fifty feet away. Meyer and Boyajian were there, and they almost fell in before managing to catch themselves. “What the hell—?” Meyer managed to say.
“We got an alert about an unauthorized transporter!” Boyajian called to Kebron.
“End program,” said Kebron.
The arctic site vanished, leaving a coughing Cabros splayed on the floor, looking around in confusion.
“Keep your phasers aimed at him,” Kebron said calmly.
A moment later, Calhoun was standing behind them, having come running up in obvious response to the internal alert. “Is that Cabros?” he asked, not quite understanding what he was looking at.
“It is indeed,” said Kebron. “Apparently he decided that he wanted a rematch. I did not endorse it.”
Cabros had managed to get to his feet, and he glowered at Calhoun as he noticed the phasers being pointed at him.
“I’m not entirely sure if a Dayan can withstand point-blank phaser blasts,” Calhoun said, “but if you give me the slightest reason to find out, I would be happy to use you as a guinea pig.”
“What is a guinea pig?” said Cabros.
“Our computer in the brig will be happy to inform you.” Calhoun nodded toward the security guards, and they escorted Cabros out. He looked to Kebron. “You okay?”
“Of course,” said Kebron. “It wasn’t as if he could have truly hurt me. For some reason, he felt the need to try.”
“I’m sure his explanation will be quite entertaining.”
ii.
CALHOUN HAD TO hurry to keep pace with the far taller Nyos as he strode down the Excalibur’s corridors. “I have no explanation for this, Captain,” he said for what Calhoun was reasonably sure was the third time since he’d beamed aboard. “This is a very uncharacteristic action for Cabros. Are you quite certain he simply transported in on his own?”
“I can show you our sensor log if you wish,” said Calhoun, “but I already have Kebron’s statement on record. He heard the sound of your transporter beams, and the moment Cabros appeared he attacked my man.”
“This is intolerable.” Nyos was shaking his head. “I will not stand for an officer of mine to engage in such behavior.”
They arrived at the brig. Cabros was standing there stiffly rather than seated on one of the benches. He was staring straight ahead; he didn’t even seem to be aware that others had arrived.
“Cabros,” said Nyos. “Is it true what I have been told? That you took it upon yourself to physically challenge Zab Kekron?”
“Zak Kebron,” Calhoun quietly corrected him.
“Yes,” said Cabros. “I could not live with the knowledge that he bested me in combat.”
“Do you still feel that way?”
“Yes, sir.”
Nyos appeared to consider that for a moment, and then said, “Captain. Could you release him to me?”
Calhoun reached over and tapped the release code into the pad. Immediately the force field dropped.
Without a word, Nyos walked into the brig. He stepped up to Cabros and put his hands around Cabros’s head.
“Wait,” Calhoun said. “What are you—?”
He didn’t have to complete the question because it became abundantly clear. With a quick twist, Nyos snapped Cabros’s neck. The sound of the breakage reverberated within the brig, and Cabros slid to the deck, landing with a thump.
“Dispose of him as you wish,” said Nyos as he turned and walked out of the brig.
Calhoun stoppe
d him, gripping one of his arms. “What did you just do?” he demanded.
“I gave him his wish,” replied Nyos. “He said he could not tolerate living with the knowledge that Kebron had defeated him. Now he does not have to.”
“You can’t just kill one of your own crewmen!”
“I am reasonably sure you are wrong about that, as I have just demonstrated.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Are you planning to release your grip upon me anytime soon?”
Calhoun stared at him for a long moment and then let go his hold on Nyos. The Dayan shook his hand in the air a few times. “You have quite a firm grip, Captain. You are stronger than you appear.”
“How could you have done that? How could you have killed him?”
“It was not especially difficult. He offered no resistance as I snapped his—”
“I saw what you did. I’m not asking the mechanics. I’m asking how you could have done it on a moral basis.”
“Obviously, Captain, our morality is different from yours. To begin with, Cabros took an action that was in flagrant violation of my orders. How do you deal with officers who have ignored your orders?”
“I certainly wouldn’t kill them.”
“Then you are imparting a message to your crew that I do not believe you really wish to send. A captain must be the final authority on his ship. Disobedience of any sort must not be tolerated. When I return to my vessel without Cabros, every member of my crew will understand that the same fate that befell him awaits anyone who ever dares to act out of turn. The question before us is not, ‘Why would I send that message?’ The question is: ‘Why would you not?’ ”
“Because I believe in the right of my crewmembers to live.”
Nyos actually chuckled at that. “That is a perfectly nice attitude to have, Captain Calhoun. But the simple truth is that the only rights that your crew have are those rights that you allocate to them. They have a right to have a captain who is always going to be obeyed. Anyone who disagrees with that sacrifices his right to breathe. I strongly suggest you consider adopting that attitude, Calhoun. It will certainly save you some difficulties in the future.” After a pause he said, “Return me to the vessel.” Moments later he faded out as the Dayan transporter system pulled him away, leaving Calhoun alone outside the brig.
“Bridge to sickbay,” he said after a moment.
“Sickbay.”
“We have the dead body of a Dayan in the brig. Get it and dissect it.”
“Um . . . where did we get the dead body of a Dayan, sir?”
“Courtesy of their commanding officer,” said Calhoun. “Take it apart. If these individuals have any weaknesses, I want to know about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
iii.
CALHOUN SAT IN the ready room, staring at nothing in particular, rapping his fingers thoughtfully on his desk.
The door chimed and Burgoyne entered without Calhoun telling hir to come in. It was a minor breach of protocol, but Calhoun chose to ignore it.
“You wanted to see me, Captain?”
Calhoun nodded and gestured for Burgoyne to take a seat. Burgy did so and waited patiently for Calhoun to speak.
“I need to discuss something with you, Burgy, and I do not do so comfortably,” he began. “I was told something in a matter of confidence—”
“Xy came to you about my concerns over the Dayan.”
Calhoun tilted his head back and sighed in relief. “I should have known you’d figure it out.”
“I saw him come in here, and he had no other pressing reason to do so, so I put two and two together, yes.”
“You should have enough faith in me by now to know that you can tell me anything without concern,” said Calhoun.
“I will try to remember that in the future, Captain.”
Calhoun pursed his lips. “You heard about our little incident, I assume.”
“That Nyos came over here and killed one of his people? Yes, that tidbit of scuttlebutt had reached me.”
“I have to admit, I’m not entirely sure how to react. The fact of the matter is that, once upon a time, I might have done the same thing.”
Burgy made no attempt to hide hir surprise. “I find that very difficult to believe, Captain.”
“Back when I was a warlord on Xenex? Fighting to free my people from tyranny?” Calhoun chuckled softly. “Oh, yes. If I had learned that one of my people had, for instance, fallen in with the Danteri, our oppressor, that they had disobeyed my orders for the purpose of acquiring the Danteri’s trust or achieving personal gain . . . hell yes, I would have had him executed. No, grozit, I would have killed him myself. I would never have allowed a betrayer to live.”
“But we’re discussing a matter that is not tantamount to treason,” Burgyone pointed out.
“Trust me, Burgy, to some people there is no such thing as degree of disobedience. Either you’re part of the group from the get-go, or you are dead the moment you deviate from what is expected. That’s obviously the Dayan philosophy.”
“What are you suggesting, Captain? That we break our alliance with them?”
“I’m not sure that we can.” He got up from behind his desk and walked to the port that gave him a view out into space. “If their description of the D’myurj homeworld is accurate—and I have no reason to believe it isn’t—then we may well need their help.”
“Their help with what? Captain,” Burgoyne said slowly, “do you really intend to annihilate the entirety of the D’myurj?”
“Why not? They destroyed my race. Why shouldn’t I visit the same fate upon them?”
For a long moment, Burgoyne was silent. Then s/he said, “Captain, I think you know that every person on this ship would follow you to the gates of hell. If this is really your intention, to destroy an entire race, then we will back you. But . . .”
“But what?”
“But the crew believes this is a rescue mission. The D’myurj have our people prisoners, and we’re going in to take them back. No one has signed up to commit genocide.”
Calhoun felt his temper begin to flare, and it was all he could do to keep it in check. “And what about my people, Burgoyne? How many people on Xenex got up that morning thinking that it was their last day to have breakfast, speak to friends, read, and make love? How many Xenexians dreamed that their race was about to be wiped out by people they never heard of? Do you think the D’myurj discussed the ramifications of what they were doing? Do you believe that when they pounded my people into oblivion, they gave even a moment’s thought to the innocent people they were annihilating?”
“No.”
“No, they didn’t. So why should I give any more thought to them than they gave to us?” He put up a hand before Burgoyne could reply. “I know exactly what you’re going to say. Because I’m better than they are. Because I have a conscience and morality that they cannot begin to conceive of. That’s why I should spare them.”
“That’s correct,” said Burgoyne.
Calhoun had been looking out the port the entire time he was speaking, but now he turned to face Burgoyne. “You don’t know what I used to be like. You don’t know the boy that I was before I became the man I am. If I had had the opportunity to blow the Danteri’s world to kingdom come in order to free my people from their tyranny, I would have done so without hesitation. If we leave the D’myurj alive, who knows who will be next? Do you think you would be as dispassionate about this if it had been the Hermats who had been slaughtered wholesale?”
“I’d be fine with it,” Burgoyne snapped back. “My people treated me like hell when I lived there. I didn’t join Starfleet in order to be an explorer. I joined it to get as far away from other Hermats as possible. If the D’myurj obliterated my people, I’d walk across the surface of the world and be sure to dance on the grave of every single individual who strove to make me feel like an outsider on my own planet. I’m not being dispassionate, Mac. I’m worried about you. I’m worried that your priorities are out of whack and have been e
ver since you’ve returned. I think you ought to give some serious consideration to what you want your message to be. Because if this ship opens fire on the planet of the D’myurj with the determination to wipe them out of existence, I can’t say you’ll have a crew when this is done.”
Calhoun stared at Burgoyne and was unable to keep the surprise off his face, although it was more at the aggressive nature of Burgoyne’s words than what s/he was actually saying. “I thought you said this crew would follow me to hell.”
“To hell, yes. But I’m not as sure that they’ll be happy to march through the gates with you. Just up to it.”
Somewhat to his surprise, Calhoun actually laughed at that. “Well, I appreciate you drawing the line of demarcation for me, Burgoyne.”
“Not a problem. I just hope you’ll give serious consideration to what I’ve said.”
“I will. But, I want you to give serious consideration to this.” He paused. “If we spare the D’myurj, that may well put us head-to-head against the Dayan. How well do you think we would fare in pitched battle against them?”
“Not very,” Burgoyne had to admit.
“You may want to factor that into your considerations.”
Slowly Burgoyne nodded. “I can see how that could be a factor. But tell me this, Captain, has worrying about how some other race might react to your decisions ever mattered?”
“No, it hasn’t,” said Calhoun grimly. “Here’s the problem. I have to live with the fact that that very blindness, that refusal to consider how someone else may react to my actions, directly resulted in the death of Xenex. That attitude . . . killed my people.”
“The D’myurj killed your people, Captain. Not you.”
“And they should pay for it.”
“Some of them should. But all of them? You can’t think that the entire race voted as one to execute yours.”
“I don’t know,” Calhoun said reasonably. “I have no idea how the D’myurj function. For all I know, that’s exactly what they thought. It’s possible they have some sort of hive mind, and every man, woman, and child resolved as one that the Xenexians had to die.”
“And if you destroy them all, you’ll never know.”
