The Returned, Part II

by Peter David

  “You didn’t think I had the right to know?”

  “No,” he said softly. “I didn’t. I . . . I hope that doesn’t make me a bad person to you.”

  “Of course not,” she said. “How could you—damn it, turn around!”

  He did so. She was looking at him with what seemed like boundless sympathy. “I could never think of you as a bad person, Mark. It’s just . . . it never occurred to me to think of you in that way. I’ve known you for so long as a friend, and a colleague. And then you became this . . . this whatever you are . . .”

  “Demigod?” he suggested.

  “Okay, a demigod. I guess it would just take me time to even think of you in something approximating a romantic fashion. Presuming I ever did.”

  “All right, well . . . take your time,” said Mark. “I mean, I’m not going anywhere. We’re here on Thallon for who knows how long. Do whatever you need to do to get your head wherever it needs to be. And if you never come around to thinking of me as anything more than a friend, well . . . that’s fine, too. At least now you know.” He let out a sigh of genuine relief. “You know, I actually feel better about you knowing. I feel like we’re on even footing with each other now.”

  “I agree. Look, um . . . I haven’t had dinner yet. You want something? For old time’s sake?”

  “Sure, absolutely.”

  She prepared a simple dinner for them, and the two of them ate together. Cwansi lay nearby, burbling happily. McHenry kept glancing at the child affectionately. He hadn’t had a lot of exposure to children in his life, but he came to the conclusion that if they were all as charming as this one, he could certainly become accustomed to them.

  Not that he would ever be a father. That was definitely not on his to-do list.

  They ate and chatted like old friends, and it was relaxing for McHenry. He had been genuinely frightened—although he’d tried not to show it—over the prospect of telling Robin how he felt. It seemed as if he needn’t have worried. She was clearly okay with it.

  They talked for several hours more after dinner and then Robin picked up Cwansi, said good night, and headed to her room. McHenry took a seat on the couch and simply sat there, staring at the night sky of Thallon through the window. He always enjoyed the peace that night brought with it, especially when there weren’t assassins moving through the shadows, targeting them.

  He heard soft footsteps upon the stairs, and turned and gasped.

  Robin was descending them. She was naked.

  “Uh . . .” he managed to say, but otherwise couldn’t come up with any words.

  She walked toward him and then sat next to him on the couch.

  “I’m tired,” she said softly. “I’m tired of feeling like I’m living every moment of my life on the edge. I’m tired of feeling like a stranger in a strange land. I’m tired of being alone. I’m tired of missing Si Cwan. I want to be selfish, just for once. Make me feel good about myself. Please.”

  “You . . . you said we should take some time . . .”

  “What the hell is time good for? To wait around for someone else to try and kill us? For more people to come to us because they want us to do something for them? Waiting is overrated. Time is overrated.”

  She reached up to him and kissed him, and he felt as if he were melting against her. Robin whispered in his ear, “Come upstairs with me.”

  “Yes, absolutely,” said McHenry.

  He went upstairs with her, and she pulled his clothes off, and they made love on the rumpled covers of the bed.

  And then under the rumpled covers.

  And then they fell off the bed and made love on the floor before climbing back up onto the bed and doing it a fourth time.

  At which point Mark McHenry, for the first time in a long, long while, fell asleep.

  Excalibur

  i.

  BY THE TIME Calhoun had returned to the bridge, another two vessels had shown up to make an attempt against the Dayan warship. Once more the bridge crew watched as the vessels battled desperately against the Dayan.

  Once more the assault was utterly futile.

  Calhoun watched with even greater attention as the Dayan ship engaged in battle, and he quickly saw everything that Quentis had warned him about. The D’myurj vessels managed to land some considerable hits against the Dayan, but it made no difference. Pieces of the ship were blown away but they quickly reappeared. The ship was generating new parts of itself as fast as they were destroyed, and Calhoun came to the bleak realization that Quentis had been telling the truth. It didn’t matter what level of attack was leveled against the Dayan ship. It recovered within seconds and then refocused its assault on its enemies. No one could withstand it. Calhoun imagined the Excalibur engaged in a firefight with it and didn’t like where his conclusions were leading him.

  Moments later the last of the D’myurj vessels were destroyed. This time the blasts were so comprehensive that the crew­members of the ships were literally blown to bits, so there were no floating bodies for the Dayan to use as target practice.

  “Hail them,” Calhoun said, fighting to keep his voice level.

  Moments later Nyos was looking at them. “What is it, Captain?”

  “We’ve located our people on the planet’s surface.”

  Nyos seemed a bit surprised. “Excellent. Transport them up.”

  “We can’t. There’s a force field down there that prevents us. We’ll have to go down and get them. We need an extension on the time you’re providing us.”

  “And we would grant this why? Out of the goodness of our hearts?”

  Calhoun intensely disliked the sarcasm, but he wasn’t in the mood to start arguing over how Nyos was expressing himself. “If that is how you wish to put it, then yes.”

  Nyos considered it. “We will restart the clock. You have an hour from this moment. Use it wisely.” His image then blinked out since he obviously considered the conversation to be over.

  “Captain,” said Kebron, “we have a security team waiting for us in the transporter room.”

  “Then let’s not keep them waiting. Burgoyne, you have the conn. Now listen carefully: if you do not hear from us within the hour, I want you to turn around and get the hell out of here.”

  “Captain, I do not find that order acceptable,” said Burgoyne.

  “It’s not for you to accept, Burgy. It’s for you to obey. Turn around, get out of here, and return to our dimension. No further communication with the Dayan. Understood?”

  “Captain—”

  “Understood?”

  Burgoyne let out a frustrated sigh, but simply said, “Yes, Captain. Understood.”

  Calhoun headed to the turbolift with Kebron right behind. He wondered briefly if he would ever see the bridge again, but then tossed that consideration aside. Second-guessing the situation wouldn’t get him anywhere. He had to assume that he would be back, and soon.

  Because he didn’t trust Burgoyne to obey his order.

  ii.

  THE TEAM MATERIALIZED on the surface of what appeared to be, by all evidence, hell.

  The pounding that the Dayan had inflicted upon the planet’s surface was clearly in evidence. The bodies of D’myurj and Brethren were scattered around. Some of the bodies had been so thoroughly hammered by the blasts that they were scarcely recognizable as having been alive.

  There had been buildings, but it was impossible to determine anything about what they had looked like. They had been reduced to little more than rubble. There was smoke rising from the remains of the structures, but no sounds of any survivors. No one moaning in pain, no one moving.

  Kebron held a tricorder and was checking the area. “Nothing,” he said in a low voice. “The Dayan were quite thorough.”

  The sky hung red in the distance. In some respects, it reminded Calhoun of Xenex, ironically. This sky was red because things were burning in the distance. The Dayan had rained death and destruction down upon the world, and they were just getting started.

  Som
e distance away, there was a structure that had not been damaged by the blasts. It resembled a classic Earth castle, old-style. Medieval, actually. It was huge, thousands of square feet, positioned upon a hill two kilometers away. Because of the force field, this was the closest the Excalibur was able to beam them.

  Calhoun was wearing body armor. He didn’t like it; it didn’t feel fair. But Kebron had insisted that if the Captain was about to go into a dangerous situation, then he needed to be sufficiently protected. He was wearing plating front and back and a helmet. There were half a dozen security guards including Meyer and Boyajian, as well as Kebron. Everyone save for Kebron was also armored; Kebron needed nothing because his own skin was sturdier than any armor that Starfleet had to offer.

  Kebron indicated the castle. “That’s where the sensors say there are human readings,” he said, glancing once more at the tricorder for confirmation.

  “How many?”

  “Ten.”

  “All right,” said Calhoun. “Let’s go get them.”

  They started making their way down the road.

  Before the shooting had begun, the road might well have been perfectly paved. That was no longer the case. It had been blown to bits, and it was relatively slow going for the group as they made their way. That was particularly frustrating for Calhoun because he had a fairly accurate time sense, and he was all too aware that time was ticking down rapidly.

  They advanced as fast as they could, and suddenly they saw some rubble shifting to their right. They paused and leveled their weapons on it.

  It was shoved aside, and a Brethren rose from it.

  He took one look at them and swung his fist up to open fire.

  Calhoun immediately stepped forward. “You don’t want to do that,” he called.

  Somewhat to his surprise, the Brethren seemed to hesitate.

  Sensing an opening, Calhoun continued, “We are not the ones who did this to you. We are simply here to rescue our people from there.” He pointed at the castle. “If you join with us, help us, we will rescue you from this world. Come with us, and you can live.”

  For a long moment, the Brethren stared at them.

  Then he brought his gauntlet up and fired. Energy sizzled from it and struck Calhoun square in the chest. Calhoun was blasted off his feet and sent tumbling to the ground.

  Immediately the rest of the security team opened fire on the Brethren. He staggered from the collective pounding that was being delivered to him, but he still managed to shake it off and charge forward. Kebron stepped directly into his path and intercepted him. The Brethren crashed into Kebron, who was driven back several feet but managed to stay upright.

  The two powerful beings struggled hand-to-hand for several moments, and then Kebron actually managed to lift the armored being off his feet. He slammed the Brethren down with such force that the ground vibrated around them.

  Calhoun was on the ground just a meter away. He had taken careful aim upon the small air vent that was situated on the side of the Brethren’s armor. Before the Brethren could get back to his feet, Calhoun fired off a blast and it struck the air vent dead on.

  The Brethren shook violently from the impact and pitched backward, trembling within his armor. Calhoun watched silently as the Brethren continued to shake for a short time, and then he stopped doing so. A thick black ooze seeped out of the hole that Calhoun had used as a target.

  “That’s where you have to hit them,” Calhoun reminded them. “Those air vents. It’s the only place where they’re vulnerable.”

  “It’s obvious the Dayan already figured that out,” said Kebron, “judging by the number of dead Brethren we found on the ship.”

  “Okay, then.” Calhoun was crouched nearby the Brethren, checking him over.

  “What are you looking for, Captain?”

  “We’re near enough to that castle that I’m wondering if this particular Brethren was somehow connected to it. Perhaps he worked there as a guard.”

  “What if he did, sir?” asked Meyer.

  “In that case, he would probably have something in his armor that serves as a key. A means of getting into and out of . . . ah.” The captain found a device on the back of the being’s right gauntlet that was not familiar to him. Calhoun had battled enough of the Brethren that he was quite familiar with everything that they had on their armor, and this was new. “Kebron.” He held it up so that Zak could see it. “What do you make of this?”

  Kebron ran a quick check of the device with his tricorder. It was almost five centimeters long, and had a shining rectangle with a glowing light on one end. “I think you’ve got it, Captain. It appears to be some manner of deactivation wand.”

  “All right, then,” said Calhoun. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  They continued their way down the shattered road. There were sirens whining in the distance. What few rescue facilities the D’myurj might still have were trying to help people. There certainly wasn’t anyone in the immediate area, though. Everyone around the Excalibur crew was dead. All that was needed here were large shovels to bury everyone.

  Something within Calhoun recoiled. That was annoying as hell to him; he had fully embraced the idea of the D’myurj’s wholesale slaughter. Now that he was witnessing it, though . . .

  “Over here,” called Boyajian. “I just heard something. It sounds like a baby crying.”

  Leave it. Leave it. This isn’t our concern. It doesn’t matter if they blew up an entire nursery; we need to focus on the mission.

  But he didn’t say any of that. Instead he simply nodded, and Boyajian and Meyer ran over in the direction of what Boyajian had just heard. Kebron quickly followed.

  Just as they got to the pile of fallen rubble, the soft wailing ceased. Kebron reached down and hoisted up a large slab to reveal what was beneath. It was the crushed body of what Calhoun could only assume was a D’myurj female. He had never seen one before, and so it was more a guess than anything else.

  He was thunderstruck by her beauty.

  The ones who had lain dead in the ship had been badly injured in battle, their faces largely crushed or shot off. When the D’myurj were alive, the inner blue glow that they emanated made it difficult to make out any facial features. This one, though, this female, was dead, and thus Calhoun could clearly see a D’myurj’s face for the first time.

  Her features were incredibly delicate. She had two eyes like a human, but they were large, taking up over half her face. He could see that even though they were closed. She had no nose but instead a simple slit in the middle of her face. Her head was triangular in shape, her chin coming down to a point. She had no hair.

  And she was cradling an infant.

  The infant’s face was covered with what Calhoun assumed was blood. It wasn’t red, but a dark blue. It had flowed from a sizable gash in the child’s forehead. The child looked similar in size and development to a three-month-old human. Its eyes, in contrast to the female that Calhoun assumed to be its mother, were wide open. It had no pupils but instead a solid sheen of blue. The baby was staring at nothing because it had just died in the arms of its mother. Kebron passed the tricorder over it just to make sure, and then he simply shook his head to indicate that the infant was gone.

  Calhoun stood there and stared at them for a time. His emotions roiled within him.

  “Let’s get going,” he said tersely.

  The away team continued heading toward the castle.

  Calhoun couldn’t figure out why such a technologically advanced race as the D’myurj had such an ancient-looking building still standing, much less actually using it for a purpose such as keeping people prisoner. But that didn’t matter to him at the moment. All he was worried about was getting through the force field that surrounded it.

  The closer they got, the brighter the force field was. It covered the top of the castle, which appeared to be at least three stories high. It was impossible to tell from where the field originated. But it was definitely solid and more than capable
of preventing them from entering.

  The road that they were walking on angled up the side of the hill. It was one of several roads that approached the castle, and all of them had been equally battered by the big guns of the Dayan. But it was clear that the field had provided protection against the bombardment, because the roads within the field were smooth.

  There were no guards visible, which Calhoun considered to be a good sign. That would serve to make the attack a little easier at the start.

  Slowly, he approached the end of the road, stepping over the craters that the overhead attack had driven into the road. He found himself feeling grateful for the force field. Yes, it provided an obstacle, but on the other hand, if the force field hadn’t been there, the castle would likely have been destroyed. So that was a plus.

  Calhoun reached the edge of the force field and paused. He was tightly gripping the device that he had removed from the body of the Brethren. He took a deep breath, let it out, and then walked forward. He waited to bump into the field and be pushed back.

  Instead he walked right through it.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said under his breath.

  Then he heard a pained yelp from behind him. He turned and saw Meyer lying on the ground, clearly having been shocked by something. The force field. Of course. I have the device, but they don’t.

  Calhoun strode back to the force field and passed his hand through. Boyajian took it and tried to walk forward, but he failed utterly. This time, since Calhoun was watching, he was able to see what happened. The moment that Boyajian came into contact with the energy field, it flared to life and blasted him back. He stumbled backward from the impact, and the only reason he didn’t hit the ground was because Kebron caught him before he fell.

  “Hold on,” said Calhoun after a moment. “This is easily solved.” He took the wand that had enabled him to pass through the force field and simply flipped it toward Kebron, assuming that he could catch it, use it to pass through, and then throw it to the next man in turn.