by Peter David
But she can’t be dead, Soleta thought desperately. She’s . . . she’s immortal . . . she can’t die . . . it’s impossible . . .
Calhoun looked down at them. He closed McHenry’s eyes, reached down and touched the burnt remains of Morgan’s hair. He turned in her direction then, and she saw the pain in his eyes, but the hardness as well. The hardness of a man who had seen more death in his existence than Soleta could ever imagine. “Mr. Kebron,” he said softly, “is your board functional?”
“Aye, sir. Barely.”
“Route ops systems through it. Get me damage report and casualty count.”
Soleta couldn’t believe that Calhoun was managing to be so businesslike, so detached. Then she realized that if he had come apart, if he’d grieved in front of his crew, if he’d taken the luxury of showing how he must be feeling at that moment . . . well, that was the behavior she wouldn’t believe.
There was the sound of movement on the emergency access ladder, and an instant later Selar was making her way through the rubble and debris. Dr. Maxwell was right behind her, carrying a bag and emergency surgical instruments. She saw Burgoyne’s leg, and for a moment concern passed across her face, but then she spotted the two bodies at the front of the bridge. “Maxwell,” she snapped, and he immediately came forward, opening the bag and handing her a tricorder.
“Captain,” Kebron said, “getting damage-control reports. The breach has been sealed. Eight known fatalities, twenty-seven casualties, and three MIAs. We think they may have been pulled into space before shields were in place.”
Calhoun simply nodded. He was watching Selar, never taking his eyes off her as she ran her tricorder over both of them. Maxwell was preparing hypos for the two of them, but then slowly Selar stood, turned to Maxwell, and shook her head. Without a word, his face carefully impersonal, he returned the hypos to the bag.
And when Calhoun next spoke, he sounded that much older, and that much more tired.
“Mr. Kebron,” he said, “please raise a channel to the Trident. Tell Captain Shelby . . . that I need to speak to Robin Lefler. That I have . . . some bad news to tell her . . .”
DANTER
IT DIDN’T SEEM ALL THAT LONG AGO to Si Cwan that he had been to the luxurious estate of Lodec, the Senate Speaker. How much, mused Si Cwan, things have changed, and yet how much they also have remained the same. The exterior of the house looked much different in the middle of the day than it did at twilight. More inviting somehow. The air was crisp, however, signaling the advent of the cooler seasons of Danter. This time, however, he had Kalinda by his side. This was not a move that he had made willingly, nor did he think it especially wise. Kalinda, however, would not hear anything about it.
“I’m going with you,” she had told him in no uncertain terms when he had received the summons from the speaker.
They had been in Si Cwan’s suite of offices at the Senate building. The offices had been specifically designed for him, and even bore a passing resemblance to the architectural style of the late, lamented Thallonian palace.
“Under no circumstance,” he had said.
“Si Cwan . . . I’m not a fool. The reason he has summoned you has everything to do with the way you’ve been behaving in the past few days. You’ve been going from senator to senator, making passing references to ‘death gods’ and such. Yet you haven’t been too specific about any of it, and that very vagueness has left all of them wondering. They look at you with suspicion and fear now when you pass through the hallways, because they all think you know more than you’re telling, and they’re all worried that you know more than they wanted you to know . . .”
“Yes, Kally, I’m aware of all that,” Si Cwan had said reasonably. “I told you that was what I was going to do.”
“But you’ve put yourself at tremendous risk.”
Si Cwan had laughed at that. “Risk? From these mites? They pose no threat to me.”
She had been less than enthused at the sound of that. “Do you have any idea how overconfident you sound?”
“Kally . . .”
“Don’t ‘Kally’ me!” Glancing right and left, she lowered her voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, we happen to be in a distinct minority here. There’s exactly two Thallonians in residence on this world. Last I checked, there are something like two billion Danteri.”
“Yes, but one Thallonian is worth at least one billion Danteri, so that evens the odds.”
“You act as if this is a huge joke!”
“No, Kalinda, I do not think this is a huge joke. However, I don’t consider it the cause for concern or near panic that you seem to. I am simply stirring things up. That is all. Helping to bring the pot to a boil.”
“Yes, well,” she had said doubtfully, “my concern is that you’ve been so busy stirring things up, that you’re about to get yourself tossed in the pot. I doubt that the speaker has said he wanted to see you because he wishes to compliment you on your scintillating personality.”
“That much is true,” Si Cwan had admitted.
“And if I am right, and there is danger involved, then it would be best if I were along with you.”
“Now how,” he had asked skeptically, “do you figure that?”
“Simple. Either there is going to be some sort of brutal-retaliation—read ‘assassination attempt’ or simply ‘ambush’—by Lodec and the other senators, or there isn’t. If there isn’t, then obviously there’s no problem. If, on the other hand, there is, my presence will have an effect on the situation. They will have to carry out their ambush in my presence. They may be reluctant to do so, which could wind up saving your life.”
“Or,” he had replied, “they will do so anyway, and simply kill you as well.”
“In which case, they would have gotten around to having me disposed of anyway, so I am simply saving time.”
He had found that impossible to argue with, and the result was that when Si Cwan presented himself at the front door, she was right there with him.
They were guided through the speaker’s home by one of the servants, and Si Cwan was doing all that he could to pay attention to everything around him. He sought out the darkest corners, every possible hiding space, to determine whether someone was secreted within them, waiting to leap out. No immediate danger seemed forthcoming, however. That did not, however, prompt Si Cwan to lower his guard for even a moment. It did make him consider, though, Kalinda’s earlier words, and he faintly started to regret the actions he had taken that had brought him to this present situation. If there indeed was an ambush, he would very likely have no chance. The odds were entirely on the side of his “hosts.” He couldn’t help but think that he should have planned better, and could only chalk the present lopsided odds up to extreme hubris on his part. He could only hope that Kalinda did not suffer as a result of his overconfidence.
They were waiting for him in the garden.
Unlike his previous meeting with the speaker, however, there were half a dozen senators there. All of them had been among the senators that Si Cwan had been confronting the past couple of days. They had smiles frozen onto their faces, and they bobbed their heads in greeting as if they were happy to see him. Si Cwan returned the gesture, but as he did so he looked very carefully into their eyes. Most of the time, the eyes were incapable of masking true intent, if one was perspicacious enough to read them correctly.
He was certain that he was, at the moment, looking into the eyes of people who had something to hide. The only thing he could not determine was what that something might be.
Only Lodec seemed genuinely happy to see him. Then again, that might well be because Lodec was anticipating that this would be the last time he would have to look at the Thallonian again. “Lord Cwan . . . and the lady as well. We are doubly blessed.” He took Kalinda’s hand, folding the one of her hands into two of his and bowing deeply.
“You have summoned us, and we are here,” Si Cwan said stiffly.
Lodec looked stunned at Si Cwan’s phrasi
ng. “ ‘ Summoned’? That sounds so coarse! ‘Invited,’ I think, is the better word. Or perhaps ‘requested the honor of your presence.’ Either or both of these would be more accurate than something as brutal as ‘summoned.’ Is that not right, gentlemen?” The other senators immediately bobbed their heads in unison.
“As you wish,” said Si Cwan with a small, tolerant smile. “ ‘Invited,’ then. So to what purpose have you invited us?”
Lodec extended a hand, gesturing for Si Cwan to walk alongside him. The other senators fell into step behind him. Si Cwan studied them more closely, trying to determine if this group itself might be the ambush. They did not appear armed, however, and they certainly did not look as if they were combat ready. It might again have been hubris, but Si Cwan was reasonably sure he could break the lot of them in half without going to any exceptional strain. So he walked, listening to Lodec speak as he did so.
“I . . . regret the tone and direction of our last meeting, Lord Cwan,” Lodec said as they walked.
“Do you?”
“Yes, I do. I was far more abrupt with you than I should have been . . . more so than you deserved, certainly. And the reason for my attitude is quite simple, really: Your complaints had basis in fact.”
“Did they,” Cwan said neutrally.
“Yes, they did. You felt that there were things being said behind your back. You felt that your presence here was not being properly valued. There is indeed some truth to that.”
“I see. And you are now prepared to tell me why.”
“Yes,” said Lodec, exhaling deeply as if he were about to discharge the weight of the world that had saddled itself upon his shoulders. “Yes, I am prepared to do that very thing. You see, Lord Cwan, shortly after you took up residence here, we sent out word of the preparations for the rebuilding of the Thallonian Empire. The initial responses we got were very favorable, very favorable, as you know. You greeted many delegates from those initial contacts.”
“Yes, I know, I was there,” Si Cwan remarked dryly.
“But our initial announcements wound up bringing us . . . someone else.”
There was something about the way he said that which immediately made Si Cwan cautious. He shot a glance at Kalinda, who mouthed the word Death. “Someone else?” he said neutrally.
“Yes. Someone who is apparently able to bring the Danteri race, and the new Thallonian Empire, to levels previously undreamed of. You see, this . . . individual . . . was able to present us with something that we could offer to any and all who were interested in joining the new Thallonian Empire. An amazing incentive. There are, after all, those who still do not trust the Thallonians.”
“No!” said Si Cwan in mock horror.
The sarcasm went right past Lodec and the senators. “Tragically, it is true,” he said. “We learned, in subsequent conversations with these individuals, that they are interested in their own selfish interests, first and foremost. They want to know what—if anything—is to be gained by them personally if their races agree to be a part of the new empire. Well,” and he looked to the other senators for support. Their heads bobbed in unison. “Our new friend, our new ally, has been able to provide us with something very specific. Something to serve as an incentive so tempting, so enticing, that no reasonable race could conceivably turn away from it.”
Kalinda spoke up, speaking with faint irony. “I have generally found in my experience, Senator, that races as a whole tend to be rather stupid. They think with a mass mind-set, and as a result can invariably be trusted to do the wrong thing. Only individuals tend to be reasonable.”
“Well put, young lady, well put,” Lodec said quickly, and once again the others bobbed their heads.
“So would you care to tell us,” asked Si Cwan, “what this remarkable ‘incentive’ is?”
Lodec stopped walking. The others immediately ceased moving as well. They were in the center of the garden, a large fountain nearby with water bubbling out the top. The fountain had a statue in the middle, a Danteri warrior with an upraised sword, and the water was spurting out the top of the blade. For reasons he couldn’t quite determine, Si Cwan considered the imagery slightly disturbing.
“Tell me, Lord Cwan . . . have you heard of a substance called . . .” He paused in anticipation, looked around at the others, smiling, and then said almost breathlessly, “ambrosia?”
Si Cwan and Kalinda looked at each other.
“No,” he said with a shrug. “Should I have?”
“It is—to put it mildly—a delicacy. To put it less than delicately, it could be considered . . . well . . . food of the gods.”
“Indeed. And what gods would those be?”
Si Cwan noticed that Kalinda was trying to catch his attention. She was tilting her head ever so slightly in a gesture that he knew all too well. He turned back to the senators before they could respond and said, “A moment, Senators, please. My sister wishes to speak with me about something.”
“As you wish,” said Lodec, sounding very expansive.
They resumed walking, then, as Si Cwan and Kalinda stepped around the fountain, the rushing water covering their words when they spoke softly to one another.
“I don’t like this,” she said softly, urgently. “We should leave.”
“Why? I’m still not seeing any immediate threat.”
“Cwan, they’re the threat.”
Si Cwan sniffed disdainfully. “Them? Those pampered, ill-equipped politicians? I could dispatch any or all of them within moments. You could as well.”
“No. No, something’s wrong. Their auras have changed.”
“What?”
“I . . . I don’t know how to explain it, but their auras . . . their pure bio-energies . . . they seem different somehow. I don’t know how else to say it.”
“And that presents a danger.”
“I believe it does, yes.”
He considered the entire concern to be somewhat obscure, but there was one thing that was beyond dispute: Kalinda was genuinely worried. And he had come to depend upon her instincts.
“Lord Cwan,” came Lodec’s voice from just behind him. Si Cwan was startled; Lodec and the senators were right there, and they should not have been able to sneak up on him. He was usually far more alert than that. “Is everything all right?”
“Kalinda. . . does not feel well,” Si Cwan said smoothly. “I was thinking, gentlemen—and I regret the inconvenience—that we might wish to continue this another day. This ‘ambrosia’ is, I’m sure, quite interesting . . .”
“Interesting!” Lodec laughed, as did the others. And although Si Cwan could not sense auras and such, he was now starting to see for himself the growing confidence displayed by the senators. “Lord Cwan, you are master of understatement! Ambrosia is . . . it is miraculous! It makes you more energized! More perceptive! More physically commanding! Why, if the new Thallonian Empire were to become the central force for distributing ambrosia . . .”
The dime dropped for Si Cwan.
“It’s a drug,” he said slowly.
“ ‘Drug’ has such negative connotations . . .”
“Nevertheless,” continued Cwan, “you’re speaking of something that sounds as if it will be potentially addictive. Once you dispense it to other worlds, they will continue to want it . . . and you will be the sole suppliers.”
“That . . . is basically true, Lord Cwan. However—”
“There is no ‘however’ in this instance, Lodec!”
“Si Cwan, let’s go,” said Kalinda, and she was pulling at his elbow.
But he shook her off. “It will never work. Other worlds will simply find ways to synthesize it.”
“That will not be possible. Anubis assures us . . .”
“Anubis? Is that the individual who is offering you this narcotic? You would build a new Thallonian Empire,” and his voice was rising in anger, “on a foundation of drug dealing? What sort of vomitous notion—?”
Lodec’s face darkened. “As opposed to what,
Lord Cwan? Building it upon a foundation of fear and oppression, as the first one was? Why use the stick when the treat can be all the more enticing? I am surprised you do not realize that.”
“And I am surprised,” replied Si Cwan, “that you were under the impression that I would simply stand still for this. It is an insult! An insult, I tell you, to all that the Thallonian Empire once stood for! And tell me this: What does this ‘Anubis’want in return? He must want something.”
“He does . . . and it is the most minor of things, really. He simply wants something for himself and his brethren, something that will not cost us anything.”
“And that is?”
“To be worshipped.”
Si Cwan stared at him, disbelieving. “Worshipped? As what? Gods?”
“Yes.”
“This is madness. My sister and I are among mad people here, and I will not suffer it to continue that way another instant. Come, Kalinda,” and he started to walk briskly forward.
Lodec’s hand shot out and snagged Si Cwan by the throat.
Si Cwan should have seen it coming. He should have been able to block it. But it happened so fast that the hand was clamped in place before he could do anything to stop it. And then he was up, up off his feet, dangling in the air, as the much shorter Lodec held him high and helpless. Unable to draw in air, Si Cwan could only gag. His hands clamped around Lodec’s arm, trying to twist it free, but he felt corded muscle beneath Lodec’s sleeve that had not been there only a few days earlier.
Kalinda let out an infuriated cry and tried to come to his aid, but the other senators intervened and held her back with no effort.
Lodec’s smile was affixed upon his face, spreading wider as he drank in Si Cwan’s helplessness. “In case you have not yet figured it out, Lord Cwan . . . we were willing to present ourselves as test cases for the ambrosia. And we are able to give firsthand testimony as to its effectiveness . . . as I’m sure you now can, as well. Oh . . . and here is our benefactor now.”
A shadow fell upon Si Cwan as he saw a monstrous creature coming toward him. He was just as Kalinda had described him, and his eyes burned with fiery scorn as he gazed upon Si Cwan.
