by Diane Duane
The transport tech nodded at her, and Ael headed out into the corridor, heading for the lift. She remembered how huge and overblown this ship had seemed to her once. Now, though, Enterprise seemed the right size for the people in it; it was Bloodwing that seemed pitifully cramped. I have spent too long with these people, they would tell me in Fleet. Yet what is wrong with having enough room for the crew not to have to live in one another’s laps? How wonderful it would be to have an empire rich enough to build ships like this, where all the people who served in them had enough room, not just the privileged few who commanded.
She walked into sickbay and paused just inside the door, looking around. There was no one in sight except, against the rear door, a gentleman in medical uniform who did not look particularly medical. Ael thought she detected a bulge under his uniform tunic that the tunic was not modified to handle; and he was looking at her with some interest, though he didn’t move. As she was about to speak to him, the door to McCoy’s office opened, and McCoy came out. “Commander,” he said. “I was wondering when you might turn up. It’s all right, Geoff, she’s with me.”
“I was looking for the captain,” Ael said, following McCoy into his office.
“I know,” McCoy said. “Uhura just spoke to me. You both just missed him, though. Scotty needed him for something down in engineering. He’ll be back here shortly—Uhura will let him know you’re here. Come on in.”
The office door closed behind him, and Ael found herself looking at a desk that reminded her too much of her own master surgeon’s. The desk was all scattered with papers and printouts and printed images and data solids and cassettes and books and bindings and the Elements only knew what else. “Sorry about this,” McCoy said, picking up an armful of the stuff and depositing it carefully into a large box near the desk. “Every now and then my drawers get too full, and I have to call someone from clerical to come down and help me get it sorted out.” He sat down and sighed. “I’m a doctor, dammit, not a file clerk.”
Ael sat down by the desk and smiled, for she had heard something similar from tr’Hrienteh on occasion. “How is Gurrhim doing?”
“He’s asleep right now. He’s still running on the time they were using on Gorget; he probably won’t be awake until late this afternoon.” McCoy picked up another pile of papers and data solids and other such objects. One object in particular started slipping off the pile as McCoy moved it, and he stopped it from doing so and put it back down on the desk. Ael eyed it as he bent down to put the papers on top of the others in the box.
It was a small rectangular packet, about a finger long and a thumb thick, with colored images on the outside—some kind of pattern. “Doctor,” Ael said, “you too play this ‘poker’ game?”
“What?” He looked at the packet, then sidewise at Ael, and laughed. “Uh, those aren’t the cards for playing poker with.”
“Another game, then?” She shook her head. “Your people have more ways to play.”
“Oh, I bet you have as many ways as we do,” McCoy said. “You just think of them differently. These, though—” He sat down again, looking amused. “They’re not usually for gaming, no.”
McCoy opened the flap at the end of the packet and tipped out the deck of cards, then handed them to Ael. She took the deck from him, turned it over, and saw, not the stylized number-and-symbol imagery that had appeared on the obverses of the cards tr’Keirianh had shown her, but instead, varying images of hominids, some very strangely dressed, or holding curious objects.
“These are derived from distant ancestors of the cards we use for poker,” McCoy said. “Once upon a time, they were used as a means to foretell the future. I would say the results were normally equivocal, which is why these days they’re usually only used recreationally.”
“But not by you,” Ael said. “Everything is a diagnostic for you. Like the chess cubic.”
The look he gave her was amused, but dry. “I find the archetypes useful,” McCoy said, as Ael began to riffle through the cards, looking at the pictures.
“But these are human archetypes,” Ael said.
“Some,” McCoy said. “Not all. Among hominid species, there are a surprising number of similarities in the oldest myths—the things that get down into the bottoms of our psychologies and lie there in the dark, waiting to surprise us.” He held out a hand. She passed the deck back to him; McCoy started to shuffle it. “Life and death,” he said, “creation and destruction…we do a lot of the same things, though the impulses leading to the actions obviously change from species to species. The cards reflect general trends, but not motives. You supply those.”
He put the deck down on the desk and reached out to cut it, but she stopped him. “For amusement’s sake,” she said, and picked up the deck.
“It’s never just for amusement, with you,” McCoy said, “is it? But that’s just as well. Go ahead.”
Ael shuffled as she had seen McCoy do, taking no more than a few moments to get the hang of it. “Definitely,” McCoy said, “they’re going to want to get you around the poker table eventually. We can always use another dealer.”
“More of that another time, perhaps.” She put the deck down on the desk between them. “And now?”
“Cut it twice, to one side or the other.” He mimed what he wanted her to do.
Ael cut the deck twice, with the cards facedown, as McCoy indicated. Then she paused. “And now?” she said. “Do I turn one up?”
“As many as you like.”
“Three, then. A beginning, a middle, an end.”
“That’s one of the ways it’s done,” McCoy said.
Ael turned over the top three cards of the left-hand deck, from right to left.
In the first card a man stood at the top of a tower, looking out over mountains and sea, into a clear sunset sky with stars showing in it, and a waning moon riding high. He was leaning on a tall staff; beside him, from another staff like the first, a banner hung limp. In his free hand, unregarded, he held a small crystalline globe that seemed, in the moonlight, to have the shapes of continents graven on it, but the globe was delicate, almost invisible in the uncertain light, like a bubble.
In the second, a young man in short trousers and a brief tuniclike garment, with a light pack slung over his back, walked toward the edge of a cliff. A small four-legged animal was bouncing along beside him, but the young man didn’t seem to notice either beast or cliff. His gaze was directed upward into the mountain air, and the sun burning down on the mist of the mountains all around him whited out anything else that might have been seen.
In the third, a man sat on a low chair in front of a vista of storm clouds, from which a veil of rain trailed over another landscape mostly obscured by mist. He was dressed in some kind of plain uniform, dark-colored, and in one hand, resting on his knee, he held a sharp straight sword upright. His expression was dark and grave, not revealing much.
McCoy sucked in his breath as he took in the cards at a glance. Ael looked at him, and said, “I have heard that sound before, from my master engineer, when he tells me that we must have spares that we cannot afford or make repairs for which we have no time. So the news is somehow bad, but not mortally so.” She peered down at the third card. “This worthy—who may he be?”
McCoy grinned briefly, though the expression was sardonic. “The original reference says, ‘A doctor, lawyer, or senator.’”
“Indeed.” She put up an eyebrow. “Well, there are enough of the last of those wandering about the landscape back home on ch’Rihan, and most of them wish me ill. Doctors we have in plenty; and legists as well, though in wartime sometimes they are quieter than normal. But there is little here to tell me which one of these is meant, and which will do me harm—if this card is meant as a harbinger of the future.”
“No. That’s the third one. This one would be the present. As for this…” He nodded at the first card. “Been musing on the nature of empire, have we, Commander?”
The look she gave him back was as s
ardonic as his own. “It would hardly take a diagnostic modality to tell you that. Though it is interesting that such a symbol comes up.” She sat back, folded her arms. “Doubts and fears enough, I have had. And much time for reflection in these months during which Bloodwing and I have lived the silent life. Much time to revolve in my mind, again and again, what might be done next and what is being done at home. But comes a time when such reflection must stop.”
“That’s why this card is where it is,” McCoy said, “in the past. If you believe in this kind of thing, anyhow.”
That left the third card, which he appeared rather unwilling to deal with. “And this fearless youth,” Ael said. “But perhaps it is something other than fearlessness. He walks toward the cliff and looks neither left nor right, nor even where his feet are treading.”
“The Fool,” McCoy said. “Folly, in the classic sense of the word. Choices badly made. Error, confusion, even madness.”
She leaned forward to look at it, shook her head. “I would not be sure how to read that.”
“Neither would I,” McCoy said. “Probably nothing to it, Ael, as I told you.”
“But this seems more than just a fool,” Ael said. “See, this card is different from the other two. ‘Rods,’ ‘swords.’ I would guess these cards are each part of a class within the larger deck. But this young man is of another class.”
“A bigger set of symbols,” McCoy said, “yes. The beginning of that other class, in fact. He could mean the beginning of a journey—but one into danger. The disorganized, the unknown.”
“Every day is unknown until it is over,” Ael said. “And sometimes even then. If this means our present is filled with uncertainty, then this too is something we needed no cards to tell us. And the uncertainty will get worse. If the warning is against letting its increase unseat our reason, then I take it as good sense.”
The office door opened. Kirk was standing there. “Ael,” he said. “I’m sorry. Uhura told me you arrived just after I left. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
“Not at all. The doctor was showing me another of his diagnostic tools.” Ael got up. “And I thank you for showing them to me. I take it you do not do so often.”
“No,” McCoy said, “because people might get the wrong ideas. Spock thinks I’m a witch doctor half the time as it is.”
Ael blinked. “A doctor surely, but what might a witch be? I have seen none on the ship.”
McCoy laughed and got up too. “Probably simpler if you don’t.”
“Was there something in particular you needed to discuss?” Kirk said to Ael. “I wasn’t expecting you until later in the day.”
She reached into her pocket and brought out that single small data solid. “There is something here you must see most urgently.”
Kirk took it from her and glanced around. “Bones?”
“The reader on the desk is live, now I’ve got all that stuff off it.”
“Perhaps you would rather wait—” Ael said. Then she stopped, embarrassed by her own paranoia.
Both Kirk and McCoy looked at her rather sharply. But Kirk only said, “No, it’s all right, Commander.” He dropped the data solid onto the reader embedded in the surface of McCoy’s desk, and glanced down at the screen.
Then he took in a breath very sharply. “My God.”
McCoy looked past him at the screen. “Good Lord, this is what Arrhae was trying to tell us about.”
“Let’s see now,” Kirk said under his breath. “They would have launched this, from RV Tri, it’s…” He paused. “Six days.” Kirk reached out to the comms control under the screen. “Bridge, Mr. Spock.”
“Spock here, Captain.”
“Take a look at what’s on the data reader in McCoy’s office,” Kirk said.
There was a long pause. “Captain,” Spock said. “This confirms all our conjectures. Not only did a cloaked probe leave Hheirant, but information about its course and speed are here. The probe described in this message will reach Earth’s solar system four days earlier than I predicted.” His voice was unusually flat, the sound of a Vulcan exerting even more control than usual. “And it is not as involved an implementation of Sunseed as we thought. It is much simpler, and much deadlier. On arriving in the vicinity of the sun it will transport itself into the sun’s core and derange the star’s carbon-carbon cycle.”
“A nova bomb,” McCoy whispered.
“Nothing so powerful, Doctor,” Spock said. “But to the inhabitants of Earth after such a device was triggered, there would be little difference between Sol going nova and the effect that will be produced. The simulations Mr. Scott produced for us of an enhanced Sunseed effect will be as nothing to it. The resultant hyperflare will blow between a third and a half of the sun’s mass into space. Earth’s atmosphere will be stripped away within seconds of the main flare-wavefront hitting the planet. The dayside will be reduced to magma in seconds, and crustal heat convection will destroy everything on the far side in massive earthquakes leading to mantle rupture. All life on Earth will be extinct within hours of the device being triggered.”
The silence that followed was terrible. “I take it that this news was not accompanied by any message such as ‘Call off your war or else,’” McCoy said to Ael after a few moments.
“No, Doctor. No ultimata have been delivered.”
“And I don’t think any will be,” Kirk said. “I think this is intended as a ‘final solution.’”
Hearing their voices, Ael began to tremble again. And I thought I was over that. “Gentlemen,” she said, “I had thought my people were lost to shame before, but now I begin to be ashamed to be Rihannsu at all.” She looked up at Kirk. “But you astound me, Captain. I could by no means be so calm in the face of such news.”
“I knew something about it already,” Kirk said, his voice tight and fierce. “This just confirms the details. We’re already working on the problem.”
“But how? What can you possibly do from here? You must inform Starfleet at once!”
“I can’t, at least not by the normal channels,” Kirk said. “Right now, those channels can’t be trusted. There are elements at Fleet that are likely to distrust anything I say now, on the assumption that I’ve been suborned or turned. And besides that, there are people at Starfleet who’ve sent you into ambush once, maybe twice. I’m not sure who those people are working for. If I simply send this information off to Fleet in the normal way, I have no guarantee that the same people who set you up aren’t in a position to either discredit or lose this piece of information. And for the sake of the home of humanity, that’s not a chance I can take.”
“I understand you,” Ael said. “But what are your other options, besides sending the data home to Starfleet? If you do not trust them, who else can you trust?”
“Present company aside,” Jim said.
Ael laughed at him. “Captain—Jim. You flatter me, and I would go if I could. But under no circumstances can I be spared from our present business. Were I and Bloodwing to suddenly go missing from either Augo, or our next engagement—the one on which everything rides—then Senate and Praetorate and all our enemies in the Empire would instantly rise up and cry, ‘Did we not tell you that the traitress was just a front for the Federation?’ The revolution, such as it is, would implode right then. You will have to look elsewhere for your courier.”
“You’re right,” Kirk said. “And there’s still the problem of sheer speed. You couldn’t get into Federation space before the device would. The message indicates that the thing’s got a tailored warp drive that lets it make better speed than a normal ship could; it’s almost halfway to Sol already. No, we have other options open to us, back doors we can use. Both in terms of getting the news back home by more devious means, and doing something direct about the problem. Mr. Scott’s pursuing that avenue of investigation, to good effect. So right now everything that can be done is being done, besides getting on with our work here. You’re going to be at the meeting on Tyrava this evening?
I’ve done all I can here as regards my initial take on strategy and tactics for Eisn space. Once you and Veilt and I are in agreement, we should get started for Augo.”
“That will happen, I think, within minutes of our meeting’s end. For now, I should get back to Bloodwing: I would not want anyone to think I had come here about anything serious.”
“All right. Meanwhile, obviously we won’t be mentioning this to anyone else.” He nodded at McCoy’s screen. “But one last thing. Who sent you this?”
“I do not know,” Ael said. “I would much fear, however, that whoever they were, they are dead now. Surveillance on messaging out of ch’Rihan is always tight. In wartime, it will become unbelievably so, and no unauthorized person who has been in contact with this particular piece of news will be spared.” She shook her head. “Elements with them, whoever they are, for nothing less will keep them alive.” She got up and looked at Kirk. “Now I must go back and try to act as if everything is well. Or as well as it can be, less than a day before battle.”
“You’ll be fine,” McCoy said. “I wouldn’t have known that there was anything in particular going on with you when you first came in.”
Ael looked at him, wondering whether to believe him. “I hope you are right,” was all she could find to say, at last. She nodded to him, to the captain, and went out.
McCoy watched her go, and as the door closed behind her, looked over at Jim. “And as for you,” he said. “How are you holding up?”
“Well enough,” Jim said. “I’m a little more nervous than I was at Artaleirh, I’ll admit that much. We don’t have the guaranteed early warning of what’s waiting for us that we did before. But we’ve got a good force assembled for an intermediate engagement like this. Even if they threw all of Grand Fleet at us.”
“Perish the thought,” McCoy said, in genuine horror.
“Bones, they don’t dare,” Jim said. “There are still the Klingons to think about. If the Romulans pull everything out of the colony spaces, that whole side of the Star Empire will be hip-deep in Klingons in just a few days. To this extent, but no further, a de facto two front war is a good thing.” He rubbed his face.
