STAR TREK: NF 13 - Gods Above

by Peter David

  “Nothing.” She waved it off dismissively. “I was just ... thinking out loud.”

  Calhoun nodded, looking as if he wasn’t paying all that much attention. “Dr. Selar ... total damage?”

  “At last count, eighteen fatalities, forty-seven injured. Considering the violence of the attack, we must consider that number to be extraordinarily low.”

  “Almost miraculously,” said Burgoyne.

  “Miraculously,” Calhoun said distantly. “Burgy, we’ve lost eighteen crewmen and we’re only a few notches above dead in space. This isn’t exactly the time to start dwelling on the mercies of the almighty.”

  Burgoyne looked in confusion at the others. “My apologies, Captain ... I didn’t mean to—”

  As if Burgoyne hadn’t even spoken, Calhoun said, “Repair estimates.”

  “Hard to say, Captain,” Mitchell told him. “Until we get in to a starbase ...”

  “We’re not going to a starbase.”

  There was a stunned silence around the table. “Captain,” Soleta said cautiously, “Starbase 27 is reachable, particularly if the Trident takes us into warp-speed tow.”

  Shelby nodded. “That’s certainly doable. Not the best thing for standard practice, but once we put tractor beams on and get moving, and we don’t go above warp three ... provided Burgy and Mitchell think the ship’s up for it structurally.”

  “We should be able to hold her together,” said Mitchell. “The question is—”

  “Excuse me,” Calhoun said, his voice far sharper than it had been before. “I believe I’m still in the room. Furthermore, I believe I’ve already addressed the idea. We’re not going to a starbase.”

  “But Captain ...” began Burgoyne.

  “For future reference, Commander, those are two words that should never be combined in the same sentence ... especially at the beginning.”

  Shelby saw the stunned look on Burgoyne’s face, and on Mitchell’s. Soleta and Selar, naturally, managed to maintain inscrutable expressions, although Shelby fancied she could see a flicker of surprise in Soleta’s eyes.

  Calhoun leaned forward and said, “This is the part where you say, ‘Yes, sir.’ ”

  “Yes, sir,” Burgoyne immediately replied.

  Nodding once, Calhoun continued, “We came to this area of space because we detected energy surges that we now know were created by the Beings. We’re not going to run off because we got our eyes a little blackened ... particularly considering that, for all we know, they’re still out there, waiting to see what happens next. Well, if they’re going to keep an eye on us, we’re keeping an eye on them as well. And we can’t do it if we’re sitting in drydock at Starbase 27. Captain Shelby, I take it that the Trident can extend whatever aid is required in terms of effecting repairs?”

  “Whatever is required, yes,” Shelby said carefully.

  “Very well. Chief, I want you to put together a complete list of what you’re going to need to pull this ship together again. Manpower, hardware, the works. Have it for me within the hour.”

  “Within the—?” Then Mitchell paused, the expression of shock on his round, bearded face subsiding, and he simply said, “Yes, sir. Within the hour, sir.”

  “All right. Dismissed.”

  Everyone except Shelby began to rise, and she said, “Captain ... a moment of your time? To discuss logistics.”

  Calhoun nodded, and the others filed out. Shelby watched sadly as Burgoyne limped away with hir leg in a massive brace. The brace was humming softly, resetting the bones even as s/he walked. Still, considering the fluidity with which Burgoyne customarily moved, it was a depressing thing to witness. On the other hand, at least s/he was still alive.

  Calhoun sat again once they were alone, his fingers interlaced, his face grim. “I didn’t get a chance,” he said, “to formally thank you for your timely—”

  “Fine, glad to help, now what do you think you’re doing?” demanded Shelby.

  He stared at her blankly. “What?”

  “What. Do you think. You’re doing?”

  “Are you questioning my command decisions, Captain?” It sounded as if he didn’t know whether to be amused or angry, and settled for a combination of both.

  “No, I’m questioning your sanity,” she said, and rose to come around the table to him. “Mac, you can’t do it. You can’t make the kinds of repairs this ship needs out here in the middle of nowhere.”

  “You said you would provide whatever was required ...”

  “That’s right,” she said, “and right now what’s required is some common sense. Your crew doesn’t need to try and stitch the Excalibur back together against such odds when it’s not necessary.”

  “I don’t think I need to be lectured by you, Eppy, as to what my crew needs or doesn’t need, particularly since you’re no longer a member of this crew.”

  She blinked in surprise. “And what is that supposed to mean? What, are you now saying you resent me for getting my own command? Is that where this is going?”

  “No, what I resent is having you second-guess me ...”

  “And what I resent is seeing one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever known thinking with his wounded pride instead of his head!”

  “This has nothing to do with my pride.”

  “Mac, it has everything to do with your pride,” she said, her voice a bit softer but still firm. She half sat on the table, facing him. “You absolutely despise the idea of limping back in to a starbase seeking help, because the truth is that you think you’re better and smarter than the entirety of Starfleet and you see it as some great loss of face, admitting you need help from the fleet. It’s ridiculous. Starfleet is a resource, and it’s madness not to take advantage of that resource.”

  Calhoun said nothing; simply stared into space. Shelby knew that look all too well. He was going to say something; he was just going to take his own sweet time saying it.

  When he did, it was with a long, frustrated sigh. “I got my ass kicked, Eppy.”

  “I wouldn’t say that ...”

  “No?” He looked up at her.

  “No. Well ... not to your face.”

  It was intended to provoke a smile from him. It didn’t succeed. Instead he drummed his fingertips on the table. “I’ve had setbacks, Eppy. Don’t think that I haven’t. Going all the way back to my warlord days on Xenex ... it’s not like I won every battle. But this was ... this was different. When I was fighting to free Xenex from the Danteri, my fellow Xenexians came to me of their own free will, and we were battling for a common cause. Here, though ... most of the people on this vessel were assigned. They’re doing a job, and trusting me to keep them safe so they can do it. I let them down.”

  “You did the best you could.”

  “You know better, Eppy,” he said chidingly. “I’ve never settled for ‘the best I could.’ That’s a way of finding an excuse for not getting the job done.”

  “Not always. And no one thinks the less of you.”

  “I do.”

  “Well, now you’re just getting into self-pity.”

  His eyes flashed with temper, which she was actually happy to see since it seemed more like the fiery Calhoun she was used to. “Have you ever known me to feel sorry for myself?”

  “No. That’s why I’d rather not start now.”

  For a moment, the old scar that lined the right side of his face flared a bright red ... and then just as quickly subsided. “I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself,” he said softly, sounding just ever so slightly like a recalcitrant child. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” she pointed out, “it took no less than gods to kick the ass of the great Mackenzie Calhoun.”

  He rose from his chair to look her eye-to-eye. “They weren’t gods,” he replied. “They may be many things ... energy beings, creatures of incalculable power ... but they aren’t gods. That much I know. And if they aren’t gods, I can find a way to kill them.”<
br />
  “Mac ...”

  “They die, Eppy.”

  “Mac ...”

  “Eppy,” and his voice became low and angry, but the anger wasn’t directed at her. It was instead focused on the entities out there, somewhere in the void. “Eppy, I sat in my ready room and talked to Mark McHenry, and he told me these ... Beings ... are not to be trusted. In the privacy of that room, he expressed an opinion, nothing more. And he died for it, and Morgan died for it, and other good people died for it. These creatures don’t walk away from that. I don’t care if they’re some advanced species. I don’t care that they claim they can present us with some sort of ‘golden age.’ I don’t want to study them, or understand their point of view, or try to comprehend their alien thought process. I don’t care that our mandate is to seek out new life and new civilizations, because we sought out that new life, and it wasn’t civilized, and it killed us, and I’m going to kill it back. And don’t you for a moment think you’re going to talk me out of it.”

  “I wouldn’t even begin to try,” she sighed. “On the plus side, I suppose this beats you feeling sorry for yourself. I do feel constrained to point out, though, that if you have any intention of taking on these individuals, you’re going to want your ship at her best. Not held together with spit and baling wire. You’re going to have to make some choices in terms of your priorities.”

  Before Calhoun could reply, the door chimed. “Come,” called Calhoun.

  Chief Engineer Mitchell entered, looking slightly apologetic as he did so. He had a padd tucked under one arm.

  “That was fast,” said Calhoun.

  “I figured getting you at least a partial list to start might be a good idea, sir,” said Mitchell. He sounded very tentative. That was quite a departure from Mitchell’s normal convivial and wryly sarcastic attitude.

  “Smart thinking, Chief.” He took the padd from Mitchell and studied the specs on it carefully. His eyebrows knit and he shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Mitchell,” he said finally.

  Mitchell looked utterly crestfallen, and even Shelby was surprised at Calhoun’s cavalier dismissal of the work done so far. “I ... beg your pardon, sir?”

  “Well, I should hope you would. Look at this. The amount of work that will be required to get this ship back into fighting shape, and you’re trying to figure out ways to do it while we’re sitting here in the middle of space. It’s absurd. Obviously we’re going to have to get to a starbase and have this attended to. I would think ... what?” He looked to Shelby with an innocent expression. “Starbase 27? I think that would work. Don’t you?”

  “I think Starbase 27 would probably suit your needs, yes.”

  Mitchell’s face became a mask of deadpan. “Perhaps the Trident could tow us there.”

  “That’s a clever notion, Mitchell,” said Calhoun, his face no more expressive than Mitchell’s. “I wish I’d thought of it.”

  “Don’t worry, sir. I suspect you will.” He turned to leave, paused, turned back, and said with mock seriousness, “I just want you to know, Captain, that it’s moments like this that remind me why it is that you’re my role model. Brilliant idea, going to Starbase 27.”

  “That’s why they pay me the big money, Mitchell,” said Calhoun. .

  Mitchell bowed deeply, like a courtier, and left the room. After he departed, Calhoun reached over and took Shelby’s hand in his. “Thank you.”

  She waved it off dismissively. “I didn’t say or do anything you wouldn’t have come up with yourself, eventually.”

  “That’s true,” he said. Then he drew her to himself and kissed her. She felt as if she were melting against him, and then he drew back and looked into her eyes. “I hate to admit it,” he said softly, “but in some ways ... I do hate that you got your own command. Then again, you’d probably never have married me if that hadn’t happened, because you would have felt uncomfortable being subordinate to me in the workplace.”

  She ran a hand against his cheek. “Mac, my love ... if it’s of any consolation, I never felt subordinate to you.”

  “Ah. That would explain all the cases of insubordination.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I think,” he said after a moment, “I’m going to address the troops. They could probably use it.”

  “That’s a good idea. When did Mitchell come up with it?”

  That time he did laugh, and it sounded good. But the laughter was tinged with sadness ... and she still saw the anger in his eyes.

  At that moment, despite their power, she wouldn’t have wanted to be the Beings for all the world.

  IV.

  Robin Lefler stood in the middle of the holodeck without the faintest idea of why she would want to be there. The vastness of the unactivated room made her feel all the more lonely.

  She walked slowly around, her hands draped behind her back, trying to think of some scenario to activate. Nothing came to mind. Instead she just kept dwelling on her own insignificance and isolation, and all the things she should have said and wished she had, but now would never have the opportunity.

  “I ... don’t understand,” she said finally. “She ... she wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “Came as a surprise to me as well.”

  She jumped, her heart almost coming out her throat, and she whirled and saw her mother standing behind her. Morgan was utterly untouched, unblemished by any marks or burns. She smiled at Robin in that way she had, and that was when Robin realized that, of course, she was a hologram.

  That had to be it. That was why Soleta suggested she go to the holodeck. She’d arranged for a holoprogram depicting her departed mother. She’d wanted Robin to have the opportunity to say whatever it was she wanted to the “face” of the dearly departed. It was morbid in a way ... but also kind of sweet.

  Still ... it wasn’t her. Not really. The entirety of her mother’s personality ... how could it possibly be encapsulated into some computer relays?

  It’s the best you’re going to get.

  Well, that was the bottom line, wasn’t it. It was the best she was going to get. So she might as well do as much as she could with it.

  “Hi, Mom,” she said sadly, and she was surprised how her voice was choking up just from greeting this representation of her mother.

  “Hello, honey. Surprised to see me?”

  “Kind of. But kind of ... not. Mom ... you ...” She steadied herself. “You told me you couldn’t die. That you were immortal.”

  “Imagine my surprise,” she said dryly. “In point of fact, Robin, I never said I couldn’t die. I simply said there was nothing on Earth that could kill me. Remember? That’s why I left Earth. To see if I could find something that could end my ages-long existence. I guess I found it.” She laughed with a touch of bitterness. “That’s how it always goes, isn’t it. You stop looking for something, and bam, it comes looking for you.” Then she looked sadly at Robin and took a step toward her, resting a hand on her shoulder. It felt so real. Of course it was supposed to. “I’m sorry, Robin. I mean ... I lived my life. Hell, I live a hundred lives. But this must be so hard on you. First you lived for so many years, thinking I was dead, and then we found each other ... and look what happened. Maybe it would have been better if we’d never met.”

  “Oh, no, Mom!” Robin said firmly, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t have given up the time we had for anything. Not for anything.”

  “Even our vacation to Risa?” She rolled her eyes. “What a debacle that was.”

  “I know. But if I have to be stuck with someone on a world undergoing a complete disaster, I’d want it to be you.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.” She patted Robin’s cheek. “I’m reasonably sure there’s a compliment buried in there somewhere.”

  Robin laughed. She had to admit it was a hell of a program. Soleta had absolutely nailed her mother’s personality. “Look ... Ma ... I ...”

  Abruptly there was a shrill whistle piped through the intercom system of the Excalibur, a distinctive tone
that went all the way back to the earliest sailing vessels. “Attention all hands. This is the captain,” came Mackenzie Calhoun’s voice.

  “Oh, God, is it another battle alert?” moaned Robin.

  “No,” Morgan replied briskly. “Aside from the Trident, long-range sensors say we’re alone.”

  She glanced at her “mother” in confusion at that, but then Calhoun continued, “After analysis of our current condition, it has been decided that the Trident will use her tractor beams to tow us to Starbase 27. Anyone requiring more medical care than we are presently set up to accommodate will be able to find it there, and the base has already been notified of our needs and will be prepared to deal with them. This has ...” He paused, and then continued, “This has been a difficult chapter in the life of the Excalibur. But this ship is about far more than the vessel itself. It’s about the crew working upon her. A crew that can deal with hardships and challenges better than any other crew I’ve ever worked with. Better than any other crew that’s currently in Starfleet ... although I’d suspect Captain Shelby might have something to say about that.” He waited a moment, as if allowing for unseen laughter to subside. “The point is, I could not be prouder of any crew than I am of the way that this crew came through the fire and the fury of what we encountered earlier. We have sustained losses. We have sustained damage. It has not been the first, and I daresay it won’t be the last. But this crew, this collection of dedicated people, can handle anything that’s tossed at us and come back for more. I know that in my heart, just as certainly as I know that—in the end—we will triumph. We will be victorious. Our honored dead will not be forgotten, and I swear to you ... there will be justice in their names. Captain out.”

  There was silence for a time and then Morgan said thoughtfully, “Well, he’s not exactly Winston Churchill, but he certainly gets his sentiments across.”

  “Yes, he certainly does.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Mother ... there’s things I want to say ... but I don’t know how to say them, and I’m thinking this might not be the right time. Not when I’m busy wiping tears out of my eyes just looking at you.”