The Returned, Part II

by Peter David

  He is the undisputed monarch of his world. He has two children—a son and a daughter—to take over for him if and when he is ready to secede. Not that he is expecting that to happen anytime soon.

  As he makes his way through the forest, his mind begins to wander. He is all too aware of how he came to power years ago. No one else knows. It was declared a simple heart attack. Not even his mother suspected, which was fortunate, because if she had, then he probably would have had to dispose of her as well.

  However, it starts to dawn on him that what goes around has a tendency to come around. Te begins to worry that his son may be of a similar disposition. He may well covet the throne as much as Te did, and what if he decides to do something about it? What if he opts to take matters into his own hands and not wait for his father to die of natural causes?

  His daughter is of a much simpler disposition, sweet and adoring of her father. The notion that she would plan an assault on her father, much less actually implement it, is simply unthinkable.

  But his son . . . the way that his son looks at him, the way that the lad occasionally speaks of how he will handle things once he is in charge . . .

  Those comments do not sit well with Te.

  What to do, then?

  Te stops making his way through the forest and stops to ponder these thoughts that are passing through his head. What to do, what to do? Should he consider . . . ?

  Would he really . . . ?

  Kill my son?

  The possibility crosses his mind unbidden, but once it is there, it is impossible for him to toss aside. On the surface of it, the very idea seems preposterous. And yet . . .

  He killed his own father. Is the prospect of killing his son truly that unthinkable?

  “Would you?”

  He jumps, startled, not expecting a voice to have broken in on his thoughts. A voice that seems to be responding, not to anything he has said, but to the musings of his innermost mind.

  He spins and sees a Thallonian standing a short distance away. He has an insufferably smug expression.

  Te reacts immediately by drawing an arrow and firing. The arrow hurtles through the air and lodges in a tree three meters away. The target has disappeared.

  “I didn’t have to move,” said the man, who is now standing behind Te. “I could have let the arrow thud into my chest. But I didn’t see any reason to do so. Are you going to take another shot, or are you going to realize that there is nothing you could do to harm me?”

  Te has already leveled another arrow at him, but slowly he lowers it. “Who are you?”

  “Your people call me the Awesome. A pretentious name, I admit, but it is rather descriptive. I was responsible for putting your father on the throne and, by extension, you.”

  Te has trouble believing what he is hearing. “I . . . I always thought that was just a story my father made up.”

  “No, he was quite truthful. He was a good man, your father. I wonder, how do you think he felt when you killed him?”

  Te is aware that the blood is draining from his face. He endeavors to maintain his calm. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Do not attempt to insult me. First of all, you couldn’t. Second, your interior mind is quite clear to me. Do not worry,” he adds dismissively. “It is not as if I am going to tell anyone or have you brought to justice. You are, after all, the ultimate authority on this world. So there is no one for you to answer to.”

  Te pulls himself together in the face of this incredible being. “That is true.”

  “Of course it’s true. Everything that I say is true. For instance, I will tell you this true thing right now: you will not have to worry about your son killing you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It is my job to know things. That is what I do. Do you truly believe that I am only a god to your world? Any number of places bow to me. I go where I see possibilities, and I have to say, Thallon has certainly provided many a possibility. It is a shame that your world will be destroyed.”

  Te does not quite understand what the Awesome is saying. “What? What are you talking about? Why do you say our world will be destroyed?”

  “Because it is a gigantic egg. There is a large creature growing and developing within, and many, many years from now, it will hatch and shatter your planet to pieces.”

  “You . . . are not serious.”

  “I am always serious,” replies the Awesome. “Fortunately enough, this will not be a personal concern for you. You will be long dead. Starting now.”

  “What in the world are you talking ab—?”

  He is unaware of the presence of the flarg until its claw rips across his back. Te shrieks and whirls, but the bow has already fallen from his hand. The flarg roars at him, making noise for the first time, since its approach was entirely stealthy. Its foul breath washes over him, and its fanged mouth snaps in his face. Its head stabs forward, the jaws clamping on Te’s throat. Te tries to scream but cannot produce any sound.

  “You really shouldn’t have killed your father,” says the Awesome. “There are few things that I would draw the line at, but that is definitely one of them.”

  The flarg, all three hundred kilograms of it, yanks its head back and rips out Te’s throat. Remarkably, Te is still conscious enough to see blood pouring down the front of his shirt. Then his legs give way, and he collapses to the ground.

  “Have no fear,” says the Awesome. “Enough of your body will be found to make an identification. At some point. In the meanwhile, your son will assume the throne and, honestly, do a far better job at it than you ever managed. Although I suppose you aren’t hearing me at the moment, are you.”

  Te has in fact not heard most of what the Awesome has just said. His lifeless eyes gaze upward as the flarg proceeds to devour his chest.

  “Your kind will, of course, be wiped out,” says the Awesome to the flarg. “A pity. Truth be told, I actually find you rather more appealing than any of the supposedly dominant race that currently walks around on his sphere. Ah, well. Good eating.”

  The flarg pays no attention to Him as the Awesome disappears into the air.

  D’myurj Homeworld

  CALHOUN SHOVED THE Visionary in front of him as they headed down the hallway. He was all too aware that more Brethren had shown up and were tracking them. They were not going to make any move against him as long as he had a phaser to the Visionary’s head, but he wasn’t wild about the long-term possibilities of the situation.

  “How much farther?” demanded Calhoun.

  “Not much. Just ahead, as a matter of fact.” The Visionary paused and then said, “Why are you here, Calhoun? To recover your precious humans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Why do you care about them? You’re not human.”

  “I’m not part of any race at this point,” said Calhoun. “You destroyed my people.”

  “Of course we destroyed your people. A response was required, thanks to your actions. Anyone who was thinking ahead would have foreseen the results of the course that you had undertaken. It is not my fault, nor my responsibility, that you could not see ahead to the likely outcome of what you did.”

  “You’re blaming me for the destruction of Xenex.”

  “Why not?” said the Visionary. “You blame yourself.”

  Inwardly Calhoun hated to admit it, but he knew the Visionary was right.

  “You continue not to see the bigger picture, Captain. You do not see why your people were so unimportant.”

  “Do you seriously think I care about some bigger picture? They were my people . . .”

  “They were not your people!” The Visionary suddenly stopped walking and turned to face Calhoun. For the first time there was genuine impatience on his face. “You are foolish to think that they were. You have moved so far away from them that you bear no resemblance to the young man you used to be. Yes, Calhoun, I know all about your past. It has nothing to do with your future, or at least what you imagine to b
e your future. The fact of the matter is that I did you a favor. For as long as you thought of yourself as a Xenexian, you were never going to be able to reach your full potential. Now, though, you are a man without a people. You need not worry yourself about any past alliances. You are answerable not to any former concerns or taboos or anything that has anything to do with your former life. I enabled you to become a true citizen of the universe. You should be thanking me.”

  It was all Calhoun could do not to cave his face in. The fist that was not holding a phaser was trembling. His teeth gritted, he said, “Get me to the tower, now.”

  The Visionary grinned as if he had just won some sort of debate. “As you wish.”

  He shoved through a door and Calhoun followed. Then, suddenly, he spun away from the Visionary and fired his phaser toward the Brethren who had been pacing them. But he did not fire directly at them; instead he aimed at the ceiling. The phaser beam blasted loose a half ton of rubble that came crashing down on and around the Brethren, creating a barricade that Calhoun hoped would slow them down.

  Then he turned and sprinted up the stairs after the Visionary.

  The Visionary was no longer in sight, but the stairs led straight up; there was nowhere else he could go.

  Calhoun knew he only had minutes left.

  There was a door at the top of the stairs, and it swung closed in Calhoun’s face. He heard the audible click of a lock. He swung his phaser up and fired. The blast enveloped the door, disintegrating it, and Calhoun sprinted through.

  It led out onto the flat roof of the building. The Visionary was at the far end, apparently looking for some means of getting down. He turned and saw Calhoun right behind him and adopted what appeared to be a forced smile. “I see you caught up.”

  “Yes,” said Calhoun tightly. “Where’s the scrambling device?”

  “It is there,” said the Visionary, and he pointed. There was a metal tower about thirty meters away. It was twelve meters high, and there were lights blinking along the side.

  Without hesitation, Calhoun aimed his phaser and fired.

  It bounced off.

  “What the hell?” muttered Calhoun, and he fired again. Once more his beam was deflected, and he saw what the problem was. “There’s a field around that as well?!”

  “Did I forget to mention that?”

  He heard the sounds of the Brethren coming up to the roof. He swung his phaser around and fired blindly down the stairs, even as he hit his combadge. “Calhoun to Excalibur.”

  “Excalibur, Burgoyne here.”

  “Full bombardment of photon torpedoes on the tower that’s fifty meters north of me! Now!”

  “Your weaponry cannot pierce our field!” said the Visionary.

  “We will see,” said Calhoun grimly.

  “Calhoun,” said the Visionary, “listen to me. If you surrender now, you can join with me. There is much that we can learn from each other. I swear I will promise safe conduct for you and your fellows. You can work with us to help us achieve safety in your galaxy. You can—”

  And suddenly a brace of photon torpedoes ripped down from orbit. They slammed into the force field, which flared to life in a continued endeavor to protect the tower. But it was nowhere near as powerful as the one that had surrounded the entirety of the castle. The photon torpedoes blasted it apart and seconds later the tower fell.

  The Visionary let out a loud howl of shock, clearly stunned that the tower had collapsed.

  Calhoun’s combadge came to life. “Captain, we have you, the away team, and our people!”

  Calhoun looked to the sky, and his eyes widened in shock. The skies were alight with incoming blasts. The Dayan had opened fire. “Get us out of here!” shouted Calhoun. “All of us, and the D’myurj in front of me!”

  “No!” yelled the Visionary, but it was too late. He faded out of sight along with Calhoun.

  Seconds later, the Dayan blasts slammed into the castle, shattering it.

  The Brethren within desperately tried to get clear, but the castle collapsed in on itself, burying them.

  And that was just the beginning. The blasts from the Dayan vessel proceeded to pound down upon the planet’s surface. The D’myurj ran desperately, trying to stay ahead of it, trying not to die.

  It did no good. Death rained down from on high, and there was nowhere for them to hide.

  Excalibur

  i.

  CALHOUN SPUN AROUND the moment he materialized on the transporter platform, half expecting to see that the Visionary had not beamed up with them. But no, there he was, big as life. He was looking around in what was clearly borderline panic as he saw that he had been beamed onto a Federation starship.

  Kebron was there as well, along with Meyer and Boyajian. “The others! Where are the others?” said Calhoun.

  Halliwell was manipulating the controls. “I have ten people in stasis, Captain. Step off the platform, and I’ll start bringing them up.”

  “Ten? Where—?”

  Kebron turned to Calhoun. “We had several fatalities, Captain.”

  Dammit.

  He looked at the Visionary. Then, in a very low voice, he said to Halliwell, “How long can you keep them in the buffer?”

  Halliwell looked somewhat surprised by the question, but then said, “Indefinitely, really. But I wouldn’t recommend—”

  That was all Calhoun had to hear.

  Calhoun strode over to the Visionary and grabbed him by the front of his clothing. The Visionary tried to push Calhoun away and, when that didn’t work, started to say the captain’s name.

  He didn’t get a word out because Calhoun hit him in the face so hard that his jaw nearly shattered. The blue light that suffused the Visionary flared in response to the impact. A thick liquid started to seep from his mouth.

  Calhoun was just getting started.

  Calhoun slammed the Visionary in the gut, doubling him over, then struck him again, this time in the side of the head. The Visionary would have fallen over, but Calhoun gripped his arm and kept him upright, shoving him against the wall and slugging him repeatedly in the stomach.

  “Captain!” called Kebron, but Calhoun wasn’t listening. The captain was absolutely blind with rage. Calhoun didn’t want to hear anything that the Visionary said. Calhoun just wanted to beat him and keep on beating him until he could never walk or talk again. The Xenexian wanted to beat the D’myurj to death. Calhoun could have simply blown him out of existence with a phaser, but that would have been much too quick.

  And Calhoun would have. Calhoun would have beaten him until his skull was crushed and he had no blood left in his body because it had spilled all over the transporter room floor. It was Kebron who stopped the captain. Kebron grabbed Calhoun’s fist, which was thick with the blueish ooze that was seeping out of the Visionary. Calhoun tried to pull away, but couldn’t begin to break Kebron’s grip.

  “Stop now,” Kebron said.

  Calhoun didn’t listen. He might not even have heard Kebron. His mind was filled with so much rage that the rest of the world had ceased to exist. All he could think about was killing the Visionary. Gone was his concern about taking prisoners or bringing anyone to justice for their crimes. All that mattered was crushing the life from the Visionary’s body.

  Calhoun tried to attack Kebron.

  It did not go well.

  Kebron did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed Calhoun’s other fist, momentarily immobilizing the infuriated captain. Then he shook Calhoun violently.

  Under other circumstances, Calhoun might have been able to mount a defense against Kebron. Perhaps in a one-on-one battle, Calhoun might even have found a way to defeat the Brikar. But at that moment, Mackenzie Calhoun was simply not in his right mind. A naked fury was rampaging through him, and so he was unable to think clearly. As a result he could not defend himself at all as Kebron continued to shake him. His head snapped back and forth, and he felt himself starting to get dizzy.

  “All right,” he finally said.
<
br />   Kebron didn’t let go of Calhoun immediately, although he did stop shaking his captain. “Are you sure?” he said cautiously.

  “Yes,” Calhoun managed to say.

  Kebron released him. Calhoun didn’t say anything at first. Instead he simply stared at the unmoving Visionary. He was still alive. Calhoun had not succeeded in beating him to death. It wasn’t happenstance; Calhoun could easily have killed him instantly. He had wanted to prolong the beating for as long as possible. What fun was there in simply killing him? The trick was to extend the creature’s suffering.

  The Visionary managed to focus on him long enough to whisper, “Kill me. Please . . . kill me.” Then his consciousness fled him, and he slumped to one side.

  “Go to hell,” Calhoun said. He did not continue his attack. Instead he walked over to the Visionary and lifted him off the floor. “Halliwell, bring everyone else up here.”

  “You can’t,” said Kebron. “They’re all unconscious. We managed to break them out of the tubes, but none of them have come around.”

  “Beam them into sickbay, then,” said Calhoun. “Kebron, alert the doctor that she’s about to have a few new patients.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kebron.

  Calhoun nodded, and then headed out of the transporter room toward sickbay.

  Whereupon Kebron turned to Halliwell and said, “You did not see that.”

  “See what?” she asked.

  New Thallon

  SHINTAR HAN WAS beginning to get desperate.

  He had literally lost track of how long he had been worshipping in the temple, begging the Awesome to come to New Thallon and take a hand in what was happening.

  It was not unprecedented. He had studied Thallonian history and knew all too well that the Awesome had stepped into the midst of Thallonian politics and instituted the Cwan family as royalty. Granted, it had happened so long ago that there were many who claimed the Awesome’s appearance was simply legend. But Shintar Han was convinced that was not the case. He kept telling himself that if he worshipped long enough and hard enough, the Awesome would eventually make His presence known.