by Peter David
“We have heard you,” said Lykene, the screen flickering in response to his words.
“Heard, yes. Not listened.”
“The mission given this vessel is clear,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “The planet Danter has been declared part of the Tholian Assembly and subject to our laws. As such, all resources utilized by the Danteri are subject to seizure.”
“You can’t be serious,” said Shelby. “How can you possibly suddenly say that Danter is in Tholian territory?”
“Its elliptical orbit brings it to within our boundaries for one solar day every four Tholian years.”
“Commander, with all respect, that is the most pathetic rationalization I have ever heard for a clear act of aggression—”
“The planet’s orbit is sufficient to be considered Tholian property,” insisted Lykene. “In the interest of cooperation, we will put you in touch with the Tholian Assembly for verification.”
“No. No assembly is required,” said Shelby. “The problem is—”
“Are your vessels here in attempted contravention of Tholian interest in this situation?” demanded Lykene, cutting her off. The challenge in his tone was evident to Shelby, and certainly to everyone else on the bridge.
“We are here pursuing the interests of the United Federation of Planets, under the authority of Starfleet,” replied Shelby, not rising to Lykene’s arrogant tone. “And I would assume that those interests are identical to yours: namely the existence of a substance called ‘ambrosia’ which is alleged to have highly beneficial effects. The difference in our respective cases, Commander, is that we’re not endeavoring to co-opt it or claim it for our own. Instead we simply want to understand it and determine whether or not it poses a hazard.”
“You and your Federation need not concern yourselves,” Lykene assured her. “All properties of Danter, including ambrosia, will fall under the auspices of the Tholian Assembly. Your interests in this matter are therefore null and void. It is our directive that you depart orbit at once.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Shelby said heatedly, and then reined herself in lest Lykene think he was getting to her. “And furthermore, I—”
“Captain,” Takahashi said from ops. “Getting a new hail from the Excalibur.”
“Put them on,” said Shelby.
Burgoyne’s face appeared, looking concerned. Shelby imagined that it was a probable mirror of her own expression. “Captain,” Burgoyne said, “I see you’re still on with the Tholians. I have Captain Calhoun from the planet’s surface.”
“We have no need to speak with more representatives of your Federation,” Lykene said. “Our directive is—”
“Tell the Tholians to get the hell out of there,” came Calhoun’s voice without preamble. “Trident, Excalibur ... can the Tholians hear me? I’m blind down here.”
“We hear you,” said Lykene. “This is Commander Lykene of the Tholian Assembly, and we have no intention of dignifying your threats with—”
“This isn’t a threat, you jackass,” Calhoun snapped back.
Shelby put her fingers to her temples and rubbed them, recalling why it was that she perpetually felt as if she had headaches during the entirety of her tenure as Calhoun’s second-in-command.
“I’m trying to tell you that you’re in danger. The creatures down here who introduced ambrosia to the Danteri are planning to make an example of you and your ship, and I very much doubt you’re going to live through it. Now if you have a shred of intelligence, you’ll put as much distance between yourselves and this world as possible.”
“Commander Lykene, I would listen to Captain Calhoun if I were you,” Burgoyne now spoke up. “The last time we encountered the Beings, they put our ship into drydock for several weeks of repairs. You will not stand a chance if they decide to focus their energies on you.”
There was a long pause, and Shelby could only imagine that Lykene was consulting with his (her?) own people to try and get a reading of the situation. “We can attend to our own affairs,” Lykene finally replied. “We do not require your help. We require you to distance yourselves from this world, now. And this pathetic attempt to trick us into departing ...”
“I’m not trying to trick you into anything,” said Calhoun with a touch of frustration. “I’m trying to help you save your own lives.”
“Our lives do not require saving.”
And suddenly the image of Burgoyne was gone.
So was the visual of the Tholian.
Instead the screen was occupied by the huge head and face of what could only be considered some sort of wolf creature ... or perhaps a hyena.
It was black, black as death, and the eyes glowed red. It hung in space, miles long, stars filtering through it in places. Its expression was grim, and it said, “Who comes seeking ambrosia?”
Again a pause. Shelby wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.
Lykene saved her the trouble. The Tholian’s brittle but firm voice sounded over the com systems. If he was at all deterred by the sight of a miles-long-and-wide jackal head talking at him from space, one wouldn’t have been able to tell by the unyielding assurance of his speech. “I am Commander Lykene of the Tholian Assembly. I have come here at the behest of the assembly to inform you—”
“ ‘Inform us’?” said the jackal-headed being. The expressions of his face were quite limited. “Who are you ... to inform us of anything.”
“We are the Tholian Assembly, and we are now informing you that ambrosia is our property.”
“Is it. And I, Anubis of the gods, am asking you how you arrived at that conclusion.”
“This world is within territorial boundaries of the Tholian Assembly. As such, it and everything upon it is subject to Tholian ownership.”
Shelby almost had to admire Lykene. He had staked out a truly idiotic position, but having taken it, he wasn’t backing down from it.
“I see,” rumbled Anubis. “Well, Commander Lykene of the Tholian Assembly, if it is ambrosia you seek, then it is ambrosia you shall have.”
For a heartbeat, Shelby felt a surge of relief. Calhoun had obviously been worried that something bad was going to happen, but it appeared that the Beings were going to cooperate. That relief, however, evaporated as Anubis continued, “Provided, of course, that the entirety of the Tholian Assembly is willing to worship us.”
“Worship?” For the first time, Lykene sounded puzzled.
“That’s one of their conditions, Commander,” Shelby interjected. “They’ve been fairly consistent about that. In order to avail oneself of ambrosia, one must be willing to worship these individuals as gods. Build temples to them, pay tribute, bow down to—”
“This is not a negotiation,” Lykene replied. “We are not seeking the cooperation of these creatures purporting divinity. We, and the members and allies of the Tholian Assembly, are here to claim the substance ambrosia for our own. There will be no worshipping, no tribute, no bowing. We demand that one metric ton of ambrosia be made available to us immediately. This will be due us in no less than one hour.”
“I see,” said Anubis, his voice continuing to sound within the ship through means that Shelby could not even begin to guess. “And if we refuse?”
“Then the Tholian Assembly will regard such a stance as a declaration of war, and you will have to live with the consequences of your actions.”
“Perhaps we will,” Anubis said, and then his voice flattened and his eyes glowed in the vastness of space. “You, however ... will not.”
“Tholian vessel!” came Calhoun’s voice, sounding desperate. “This is exactly the wrong tack to take! Stand down if you want to survive! Captain Shelby, make them get out of there!”
“Commander Lykene,” Shelby began.
“Captain!” said Gold from conn, and he had never sounded as alarmed as he did just then.
The face of Anubis appeared to be getting larger, and his jaws were opening. Wide.
“Perspective check! Is he coming toward us?�
� demanded Shelby.
“Negative!” Hash said. “He’s heading for the Tholian ship! Changing view angle.”
Immediately the viewpoint of the screen shifted, and they now had a true outlook of what was transpiring. Sure enough, the massive head of Anubis was bearing down, not upon the Trident or Excalibur, but on the triangular Tholian vessel. The Tholian was standing his ground.
“Conn, do we have a phaser lock?”
“There’s nothing to lock on to, Captain,” said Gold. “Our eyes tell us it’s there, but the instruments say it’s not.”
“Tholian firing,” announced Hash.
Sure enough, the Tholian ship was shooting at the giant image approaching them as blue pulses of energy blasted out of the vessel. They passed harmlessly through the great face, and Anubis was almost upon them.
“It went right through him,” said Hash. “Is it possible he can’t hurt them? That it’s just some sort of illusion?”
“I think we’re about to find out,” said Shelby.
She was right.
The vast jaws of Anubis clamped down upon the Tholian vessel, locking on to it top and bottom. Anubis then shook his head from side to side, like a dog worrying a bone. And the Tholian vessel was rocked, helpless. It continued to fire, but the blasts had no more effect than they had before. But as impervious as Anubis was to being touched, it wasn’t slowing him down in the slightest in his endeavors to assail the Tholian ship.
“Elizabeth! What’s happening up there?” came Calhoun’s voice.
What Shelby was witnessing was so insane, she wasn’t entirely sure what to say to Calhoun. And then, before she could answer, the entire thing became moot.
Through with playing with the Tholian ship, Anubis’ jaws scissored together. It cut through the hull of the Tholian ship without slowing down. Then the head snapped to the right and left, and the ship came apart in all directions. In the silence of space, an eruption occurred as the internal atmosphere of the Tholian vessel—whatever that might be—rushed out into the vacuum as a fireball devouring the ship and its inhabitants. Then, just as quickly, the fireball snuffed out and was gone.
“Elizabeth!”
“They’re gone, Mac,” she said tonelessly. And it was obvious from the way she’d said it that she didn’t mean they’d beaten a quick retreat and returned to Tholian space.
Slowly the vast head of Anubis swiveled around and was now staring right at them once more.
“We hope that the lesson we have taught here today will not be lost upon you,” he said. And then the image disappeared from the screen.
“Son of a bitch,” muttered Shelby, the irony of the observation—considering what Anubis looked like—not being lost on her.
She knew that she had no particular reason to care about the fate of the Tholians. They were a belligerent, territorial, and duplicitous race. But needless death remained needless death, even when it happened to someone for whom one felt no affection. And it further underscored the tremendous menace that the Beings represented.
“Captain,” said Hash, turning in his chair. He looked slightly pale and shaken by what he’d witnessed. “Just before the Tholian ship was destroyed, they got out a distress message to the Tholian Assembly. They, and their allies, know what just happened here.”
“It’s going to be all over the ether in no time,” Gold said.
“Mac,” said Shelby as she stared at the emptiness of space. “Burgy. You still there?”
“I’m here, Elizabeth,” came Calhoun’s voice.
“Here, Captain,” said Burgoyne.
“I’m thinking, gentlemen ... that we may have a war on our hands.”
“Very likely.”
It was neither Calhoun nor Burgoyne who had replied, however. Instead a woman was standing on the bridge, clad in a lightweight, Greek-styled toga, with a quiver of arrows slung over her back.
Shelby rose from her chair, knowing instantly. “Artemis,” she growled.
“We are fully aware that this assault will likely bring more attackers,” said Artemis airily. “That is acceptable. But it will bring more worshippers as well. People who understand what it is we have to offer.”
“That being a quick and horrible death to anyone who doesn’t accept your word? Who doesn’t bow down to you?” demanded Shelby.
“Yes,” said Artemis with a flatness that was chilling. “We came with an offer. We were initially rebuffed. But the Danteri accepted us. Others will as well. Those that don’t ... will be annihilated. We will be worshipped. And loved. And respected. And those that don’t will pay the price that blasphemers and nonbelievers have paid throughout history.”
“That price being having to put up with poseurs laboring under the delusion of godhood?”
“Captain,” said Artemis slowly, “do you desire to have your ship encounter the same tragic end as the Tholian vessel just did?” She paused and then repeated, more sharply and with greater warning, “Do you?”
There was vast tension on the bridge. Her jaw twitching, Shelby said, “No. I don’t.”
“Ask me not to.”
“Are you threatening this ves—”
“Ask me not to.”
There was a sudden shaking and shuddering of the Trident, and Shelby was almost knocked off her feet, grabbing the back of the command chair to steady herself. Others grabbed at their consoles, and Artemis simply stood there, her arms folded. Alarm systems were going off all over the bridge.
“Don’t destroy this ship!” shouted Shelby.
An instant later, the shaking ceased. Artemis smiled then, and took a step back. “You see? That wasn’t so difficult. It was almost a prayer. But that will come in time. At least, you’d best hope it does ... lest it come too late.”
And with that, she vanished in a burst of light.
Shelby stood there, her face flushed with humiliation and anger, her eyes flinty and filled with anger.
“Elizabeth,” came Calhoun’s voice. “Are you still there.”
“Calhoun,” said Shelby, in as controlled a manner as she’d ever spoken, “round up our people and get back up to Excalibur. I’ll meet you there. I’ve had it with these creatures. It’s time to kick their asses back to whatever mountaintop they crawled down from.”
“Sounds like fun,” said Calhoun.
EXCALIBUR
I.
MOKE WAS VERY AWARE that something big was going on.
The atmosphere in the Excalibur seemed to have changed. Everyone appeared to be very focused as they went about their duties. There was very little chatter between crewmen, very little of the relaxed mood he’d come to know. The crew seemed very much “all business.”
But then Moke realized that it was an attitude that he’d be well advised to emulate. He too had business, after all, and it was up to him to attend to it. And that business very much involved speaking with Mackenzie Calhoun.
He knew that Calhoun was back on the ship. He’d tried to raise him on the com link, but when he’d identified himself, Calhoun’s voice had said brusquely, “Moke, is something wrong? Are you okay?”
“Wha—? Uh ... no,” said Moke. “No, I’m fine. It’s just—”
“Then I hate to be abrupt with you, but there’s a great deal going on at the moment, so this will just have to wait until later.” And with that, he cut the link.
Moke would have been fully aware that there was a lot going on even if Calhoun hadn’t told him. Captain Shelby had returned, and she’d brought both Mueller and also a man that Moke didn’t recognize. He was the first man whom Moke had ever seen that he would have described as “pretty,” and there was something about him that Moke definitely didn’t like. Moke tried to say hello to her, but Shelby was too deep in discussion with the man and barely glanced at him.
He didn’t take offense. He knew she had grown-up things on her mind. But he also knew that he had to talk to Mac, because “it was time.”
Coming from another direction was Zak Kebron. He looked d
ifferent somehow to Moke. His skin was glistening, almost as if it was brand new. He was holding what looked to be a kind of short, curved sword, swinging it in leisurely fashion back and forth without apparently thinking about it. Several people had to jump out of the way to get clear of it. Kebron didn’t seem to notice.
“What’s that, Zak?” inquired Moke.
Kebron stopped briefly and held it up. “Well, the science department has gone over it thoroughly in tandem with engineering. As near as they can determine, it’s some sort of energy funnel. But it has not storage capability of its own. Nor are they clear on precisely what type of energy it’s designed to channel, or what it could be used for. Does that answer your question?”
Moke stood there, stunned. He hadn’t anticipated Kebron answering with anything more than two or three words at most, and probably not even that. This copious explanation was entirely outside his expectations or Kebron’s typical behavior. All Moke could manage was a nod, at which point Kebron reached out with his huge hand toward Moke’s head. For an instant, Moke thought that Kebron was going to crush his skull, but the Brikar simply ruffled his hair with one finger and then continued on his way. Moke was so surprised that he completely forgot to tell Kebron he needed to see Calhoun until it was too late.
He sprinted after Kebron, his shorter legs no match for the Brikar’s stride. He got to the turbolift moments after Kebron had already entered it, and even though the next one came along in mere seconds, it seemed an eternity to the boy. Passersby saw Moke saying “I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!” to thin air and wondered if he wasn’t becoming addled in some way.
He stepped into the turbolift and suddenly realized he wasn’t sure where to go. “Morgan,” he called out.
Morgan’s voice promptly filtered into the turbolift. “You’re the only one who calls me by name, Moke. It’s very much appreciated. What can I do for you?”
“Can you tell me what deck Kebron got off on? Or where Mac is? I need to—
“Zak Kebron is joining Captain Calhoun in the deck-three conference lounge. Would you like me to take you there?”
