by Peter David
"They will pay," Burgoyne whispered to her. "I swear to the gods, whoever did this will pay."
Suddenly Selar's eyes snapped open. She didn't seem focused on anything, her gaze instead darting around as if looking for something.
"Selar!" Burgoyne said in a harsh, amazed whisper, and then s/he called, "She opened her eyes! She"
Burgoyne's hand was on Selar's temple, and then Selar's eyes snapped into focus on Burgoyne's. Her hand, down at her side, wrapped around Burgoyne's free hand, snapping on to it and grasping it like an infant reflexively holding on to anything thrust in its palm.
Burgoyne gasped as sickbay fell away from hir, and suddenly there was sand and dirt beneath hir feet, hot air burning in hir lungs, and a roar from all around, roaring in hir ears, in hir mind. S/he became aware of the fact that s/he was no longer perceiving things solely through hir own mind, but s/he was having trouble distinguishing hir own state of mind.
And the roaring . . . no, it was howling. Like a massive wind rushing, except the wind was alive
somehow. It burned into hir, and s/he felt something angry and ancient flailing at hir, trying to beat hir away.
And Burgoyne would not be intimidated. Instead s/he snarled back, hir canines fully exposed, ready to rend and tear, and s/he howled defiance and swore an oath of bloody vengeance. S/he saw caves and cliffs, and the aged evil bellowed a challenge that Burgoyne eagerly accepted.
And Burgoyne knew at that point, beyond any question that s/he was suddenly in a war. A war that had become very personal.
Then something seemed to insinuate itself into Burgoyne's mind, wrap itself around hir, and hir first instinct was to fight it. But then s/he realized that it was Selar. Selar in a way that s/he had never seen her. Selar, desirous, eager, hungry, wanting and striving and trying to reach out from the depths of her injuries, driven by an instinct for self-preservation and by something else as well. Something that Burgoyne didn't quite understand, but it was a need, a deep, sexual hunger consuming both Burgoyne and Selar as well. Heat seemed to pound through Burgoyne. And just like that, s/he knew Selar, knew her in and out, felt a connection as deep and as full as anything that Burgoyne had ever felt and would ever feel. Burgoyne cried out, and then the creature roared in hir head once more, splitting Burgoyne and Selar from one another. Burgoyne reached out, hearing Selar howling away in the grip of her memories of what she had faced, and then Burgoyne hit the floor.
As opposed to the subjectivity of what s/he had just seen, the floor was all too real. Burgoyne sat there, feeling rather foolish, hir head swirling even as a couple of medtechs helped hir to hir feet. Maxwell, to his credit, had put aside whatever bruised feelings
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Maxwell was prepared to say something further, but wisely decided that it would do him little-to-no good, and possibly even some serious harm. With one more quick glance at the readings, Maxwell walked away, allowing Burgoyne some time with Selar.
Burgoyne leaned over her, running hir long, tapered fingers over Selar's battered face. S/he saw a patch of Selar's head where the hair had been burned away. What could possibly have happened to her? What could have done this to her? Slowly Burgoyne felt a deep, burning anger building within hir chest.
"They will pay," Burgoyne whispered to her. "I swear to the gods, whoever did this will pay."
Suddenly Selar's eyes snapped open. She didn't seem focused on anything, her gaze instead darting around as if looking for something.
"Selar!" Burgoyne said in a harsh, amazed whisper, and then s/he called, "She opened her eyes! She"
Burgoyne's hand was on Selar's temple, and then Selar's eyes snapped into focus on Burgoyne's. Her hand, down at her side, wrapped around Burgoyne's free hand, snapping on to it and grasping it like an infant reflexively holding on to anything thrust in its palm.
Burgoyne gasped as sickbay fell away from hir, and suddenly there was sand and dirt beneath hir feet, hot air burning in hir lungs, and a roar from all around, roaring in hir ears, in hir mind. S/he became aware of the fact that s/he was no longer perceiving things solely through hir own mind, but s/he was having trouble distinguishing hir own state of mind.
And the roaring . . . no, it was howling. Like a massive wind rushing, except the wind was alive
somehow. It burned into hir, and s/he felt something angry and ancient flailing at hir, trying to beat hir away.
And Burgoyne would not be intimidated. Instead s/he snarled back, hir canines fully exposed, ready to rend and tear, and s/he howled defiance and swore an oath of bloody vengeance. S/he saw caves and cliffs, and the aged evil bellowed a challenge that Burgoyne eagerly accepted.
And Burgoyne knew at that point, beyond any question that s/he was suddenly in a war. A war that had become very personal.
Then something seemed to insinuate itself into Burgoyne's mind, wrap itself around hir, and hir first instinct was to fight it. But then s/he realized that it was Selar. Selar in a way that s/he had never seen her. Selar, desirous, eager, hungry, wanting and striving and trying to reach out from the depths of her injuries, driven by an instinct for self-preservation and by something else as well. Something that Burgoyne didn't quite understand, but it was a need, a deep, sexual hunger consuming both Burgoyne and Selar as well. Heat seemed to pound through Burgoyne. And just like that, s/he knew Selar, knew her in and out, felt a connection as deep and as full as anything that Burgoyne had ever felt and would ever feel. Burgoyne cried out, and then the creature roared in hir head once more, splitting Burgoyne and Selar from one another. Burgoyne reached out, hearing Selar howling away in the grip of her memories of what she had faced, and then Burgoyne hit the floor.
As opposed to the subjectivity of what s/he had just seen, the floor was all too real. Burgoyne sat there, feeling rather foolish, hir head swirling even as a couple of medtechs helped hir to hir feet. Maxwell, to his credit, had put aside whatever bruised feelings
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he might have sustained from his high-handed treatment by Burgoyne before, saying, "Chief, are you okay?"
"Fine," Burgoyne said in a voice that was much huskier than s/he was accustomed to. "I'm . . . I'm fine. How long was I out?"
"Only a second. From the moment you said her eyes were open to when you hit the floor, it couldn't have been more than a second." Maxwell glanced over at Selar, checking her readings. "Her eyes are closed again."
"It's okay," Burgoyne said, sounding stunned for a moment. Then hir full concentration returned, with an intensity like a beacon. "It's okay. I . . . know what I need to know." S/he headed for the door.
"Chief," said Maxwell. "Did she make some sort of . . . contact with you? A meld or . . . ?"
"She did something, all right," Burgoyne affirmed.
"What did you see?"
"Enough," Burgoyne said. "More than, in fact." And s/he headed out the door and down the corridor.
Soleta was in the main transporter room,
speaking with Watson and endeavoring to refine the search pattern for the captain when Burgoyne entered the transporter room and strode over to the platform, Soleta and Watson both watched hir step onto the platform, whirl to face Watson, and say, "Wherever you brought them up frombeam me down there."
Watson and Soleta exchanged looks, and then with a shrug Watson reached for the controls.
"Belay that order, Ensign," Soleta said quietly.
Burgoyne's dark eyes narrowed and sized up Soleta like a hawk considering a rabbit. "Ensign," s/he said, although s/he never took hir eyes off Soleta, "carry out my order. Energize."
"Watson," Soleta told her, "I believe it's time for your break."
"It is?" asked Polly Watson, and then when she saw Soleta's expression, she quickly said, "You know, you're right. What was I thinking?" and she vacated the transporter room as quickly as she could.
"Would you mind telling me what you think you're doing?" Burgoyne said to Soleta, sounding very dangerous. "In case it's slipped your notice, I outrank you. What you've just done is insubordination."
"That's one interpretation," replied Soleta evenly. "On the other hand, Commander Shelby left me in authority. She trusted me to attend to the welfare of the entire crew complement, and that would include you."
"Soleta, we don't know each other all that well," Burgoyne said with very forced patience. S/he descended from the transporter platform and continued, "When I take it into my head to do something, I do it. This has become a Gi'jan to me. A quest. Something of a personal nature."
"Personal considerations have no place in deciding who is and is not to be sent into a hazardous situation," Soleta replied evenly.
"Perhaps not to you," Burgoyne shot back, "but it does to me. Now, Lieutenant"and s/he moved briskly to the control board"I am programming my destination. I am setting it to a timer so that I can simply walk over there, step onto the platform, and beam down. And last, I am personally encoding it, on my authority, to my own private password override, so that nothing you can say or do can prevent the beams from functioning. I believe that covers all the bases, Lieutenant, unless you intend, for some reason, to get in my way."
"That," replied Soleta, "would not be logical."
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he might have sustained from his high-handed treatment by Burgoyne before, saying, "Chief, are you okay?"
"Fine," Burgoyne said in a voice that was much huskier than s/he was accustomed to. "I'm . . . I'm fine. How long was I out?"
"Only a second. From the moment you said her eyes were open to when you hit the floor, it couldn't have been more than a second." Maxwell glanced over at Selar, checking her readings. "Her eyes are closed again."
"It's okay," Burgoyne said, sounding stunned for a moment. Then hir full concentration returned, with an intensity like a beacon. "It's okay. I . . . know what I need to know." S/he headed for the door.
"Chief," said Maxwell. "Did she make some sort of . . . contact with you? A meld or . . . ?"
"She did something, all right," Burgoyne affirmed.
"What did you see?"
"Enough," Burgoyne said. "More than, in fact." And s/he headed out the door and down the corridor.
Soleta was in the main transporter room, speaking with Watson and endeavoring to refine the search pattern for the captain when Burgoyne entered the transporter room and strode over to the platform, Soleta and Watson both watched hir step onto the platform, whirl to face Watson, and say, "Wherever you brought them up frombeam me down there."
Watson and Soleta exchanged looks, and then with a shrug Watson reached for the controls.
"Belay that order, Ensign," Soleta said quietly.
Burgoyne's dark eyes narrowed and sized up Soleta like a hawk considering a rabbit. "Ensign," s/he said, although s/he never took hir eyes off Soleta, "carry out my order. Energize."
"Watson," Soleta told her, "I believe it's time for your break."
"It is?" asked Polly Watson, and then when she saw Soleta's expression, she quickly said, "You know, you're right. What was I thinking?" and she vacated the transporter room as quickly as she could.
"Would you mind telling me what you think you're doing?" Burgoyne said to Soleta, sounding very dangerous. "In case it's slipped your notice, I outrank you. What you've just done is insubordination."
"That's one interpretation," replied Soleta evenly. "On the other hand, Commander Shelby left me in authority. She trusted me to attend to the welfare of the entire crew complement, and that would include you."
"Soleta, we don't know each other all that well," Burgoyne said with very forced patience. S/he descended from the transporter platform and continued, "When I take it into my head to do something, I do it. This has become a Gi'jan to me. A quest. Something of a personal nature."
"Personal considerations have no place in deciding who is and is not to be sent into a hazardous situation," Soleta replied evenly.
"Perhaps not to you," Burgoyne shot back, "but it does to me. Now, Lieutenant"and s/he moved briskly to the control board"I am programming my destination. I am setting it to a timer so that I can simply walk over there, step onto the platform, and beam down. And last, I am personally encoding it, on my authority, to my own private password override, so that nothing you can say or do can prevent the beams from functioning. I believe that covers all the bases, Lieutenant, unless you intend, for some reason, to get in my way."
"That," replied Soleta, "would not be logical."
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"Very wise," said Burgoyne, completing the last of the adjustments to the controls. S/he nodded in quick approval of hir work, and headed back toward the platform, walking past Soleta as s/he did so.
S/he never even felt the feather-light touch Soleta's fingers on hir shoulder. All s/he knew was that suddenly the world was going dark and the floor was approaching hir at a depressingly rapid speed.
When s/he came to some minutes later, Soleta was standing over hir, her arms folded. "In case you wish to keep a tally," Soleta informed her, "that could be construed as assaulting a superior officer."
"What did you do?" asked Burgoyne. S/he sat up, hir head spinning ever so slightly.
"The Vulcan nerve pinch. I momentarily stopped the flow of blood to your brain, causing unconscious-ness."
"Hen." Burgoyne actually allowed a moment of self-mocking amusement, which was a fairly sporting attitude for hir to take, all things considered. "There are some people around here who would think that kicking me in the buttocks would accomplish that."
"That would be an acceptable fall-back technique." She cocked her head slightly. "You do not seem dismayed that I rendered you insensate."
"You got me fair and square. I can appreciate that. I don't have to be thrilled by it, mind you, but I can appreciate it." S/he rubbed the base of hir neck regretfully. "Where did you grab me? Here and here?" S/he indicated two spots
on hir neck.
"Yes," Soleta said. "Although non-Vulcans generally do not master the technique. Some study for; years and still fail."
"Well, I can be a fast learner." Then s/he paused and said, "Look, Soleta, when I said it was personal, that. . . that doesn't even begin to cover it. Selar and I, we have some sort of... of bond."
"Bond?" Soleta said skeptically.
"I don't know how it happened. She came to in sickbay, and we, we ... linked somehow. I can't begin to describe it. I knew what she knew, what she experienced. I felt a part of her. I" S/he hesitated, and then shrugged. "I also feel an overwhelming need to have sex with her. Understand, a high sex drive is certainly nothing new for me, but this . . . this is something I can't even begin to describe."
Burgoyne didn't notice the change in Soleta's expression. Clearly somehow Selar had established a rapport with Burgoyne, had zeroed in on hir as a mate. She might very well not have been in her right mind when she did it, lying on a med table in sickbay and reaching out for the first sympathetic mind that was in proximity. Or there might be something deeper there; Soleta had no way to be sure. Either way, Burgoyne's personal stake in the matter had definitely increased.
"I want to go down there, Soleta," Burgoyne said. "I need to. It's a Gi'jon, as I told you. I need to find the captain, and find whoever it was that hurt Selar. They must pay. There must be justice for the crime." S/he shrugged. "If nothing else, think of it as a means of utilizing all the energy I've got running through me right now. Soleta, I'm going to get down there. With or without your help, I'm going to do it. We both know it, unless you intend to try and stick the chief engineer in the brig."
"I'd rather not," Soleta admitted.
"So it would be simpler for all concerned if you would just cooperate."
"A valid point. However, Burgoyne, you must admit that it is a daunting task you are setting up for yourself. An entire, experienced away team is dam-aged, dead, or missing."
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