by Peter David
“Lieutenant, this is Captain Calhoun,” came the familiar voice. He sounded quite calm, even a bit amused. “Are any of your godly friends nearby?”
“We are all here!” shouted Artemis. “Calhoun, are you responsible—”
“For the weakness you’re no doubt feeling at the moment? Yes. Yes, I am. Or more correctly, we are.”
“You mortal bastard!” bellowed Anubis. “How dare you! Do you have any idea of the forces you’re unleashing? The retribution you’re bringing upon yourselves?”
“I have a fairly clear idea.” Calhoun’s voice crackled over the combadge. “You, however, have no idea at all. And unless you and your associates clear off Danter ... clear out of this sector of space, in fact ... and take your mind-sapping ambrosia with you ... then this mortal bastard and his wife, the mortal bitch, are going to kick your pseudo-Egyptian-Greco-Roman-Norse-Mesopotamian asses. Not only that, but we’ll tell every other existing race how to dispose of you as well, using the exact same techniques we’re using now.”
“And unless you, Captain, cease whatever you’re doing immediately,” and suddenly Artemis’ bow was unslung and an arrow was nocked and aimed straight at Soleta, “then your little pointy-eared lieutenant dies.”
Soleta gaped, staring at pointed death from less than ten feet away.
“No,” Thoth said sharply. “She’s an innocent in all this. Put it away, Artemis.”
“Stand aside, Thoth!”
“Put it away!”
Thoth stretched out his hand, and energy leaped through the air, enveloping Artemis. She staggered, swung her bow around, and the arrow flew off course ...
... and thudded straight into Thoth’s chest.
Thoth staggered, looking down at the shaft protruding from him, even as Soleta let out an alarmed shriek. He sagged to his knees.
“Thoth!” cried out Artemis, and she ran toward him. “Thoth, I’m sorry ... I ... I didn’t mean ...”
Soleta started toward Thoth, but he held up a hand and shouted “Stay away!” even as he gripped the arrow firmly. He gritted his teeth and then let out a howl of pain as he ripped the arrow from his torso. Soleta saw something glowing from within the hole, some sort of energy that appeared to be seeping out of him.
“You ... you have to be all right,” she said desperately. “You can’t die. ...”
“Oh ... we can,” Thoth said, his voice rattling. “If ... if we suddenly find ourselves bereft of energy ... if our own weapons are turned against us ... we can die quite well ...”
“Thoth ... !”
“Get away from him!” shouted Artemis, and she shoved Soleta furiously aside as she knelt down next to Thoth. “Thoth ... this ... this can be fixed ...”
“Can this, I wonder?” said Thoth, and the hand that was still holding the arrow jammed it upward into the pit of Artemis’ stomach.
Artemis screamed, a scream heard from one end of Danter to the other, and Thoth, his face a mask of fury, ripped the arrow upward through her body in a move that would have disemboweled anyone else.
But it was not internal organs that spilled from Artemis, at least nothing like any that Soleta had ever seen. Instead it was almost like solid light, twisting and turning from her, and Artemis shrieked and cried out and pounded upon Thoth, and howled at him in tongues that had not been spoken since the dawn of man.
“Artemis ... my sweet,” Thoth managed to say, his voice choking, “I remain a god of truth ... and I believe the truth is ... that we have overstayed our welcome ...”
Then the very air seemed to crackle, and Soleta fell back as a burst of light and heat blasted her, sending her sprawling flat ten feet away. She gasped, then scrambled to her feet, and she saw the two gods fading, fading ...
... and gone.
The rest of the Beings stood there for a long moment, more stunned than she would ever have thought possible.
“Loki ... wha ... what do we do now?” said Tyr.
And Anubis looked heavenward and growled, “We get the bastards who did this. We destroy them, restore the balance to this world, and annihilate any else who come. We build our reputation as gods of destruction! They will fear us and bow down to us!”
“What about this one?” asked Hermes, indicating Soleta.
“Forget her. She’s meaningless. Only Calhoun matters. Calhoun and Shelby and their minions,” roared Anubis, “will know the fury of the gods unleashed!”
And then, from over Soleta’s still active com link, came Calhoun’s mocking voice:
“I can’t wait.”
EXCALIBUR
I.
MARK MCHENRY, standing in the sickbay and looking down at his own unmoving body, suddenly staggered and clutched at his chest. He felt as if something had suddenly been yanked away from him, and he had no clue what it was.
Then, suddenly ... he knew. He didn’t know how or why he did ... but he did.
“Artemis,” he whispered.
And from next to him, almost in his ear, came the voice of the Old Father.
“Yes. Artemis,” he confirmed. “She loved you, you know. Not in any manner that meets the standard definition of sanity ... but she loved you.”
“Now what?”
“Now,” said Woden, “it finally ends.”
And that was when Calhoun’s voice came across the ship’s loudspeaker.
II.
“I can’t wait,” said Mackenzie Calhoun.
He was staring at the image of Danter on the screen, turning leisurely in its orbit. Suddenly from the tactical station, Zak Kebron called out, “Captain. Detecting an energy burst from the planet’s surface.”
The face of Morgan Primus suddenly appeared on the screen. “Confirming,” she said. “Energy surge bearing eighteen mark five. Similar to the energy frequencies generated by the Beings in their previous attack.”
“You still have firm control of conn, Morgan?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Captain,” Robin Lefler spoke up, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “For a potential battle situation, wouldn’t it make sense to have, you know ... a living person at that station? No offense, Mom.”
“You had a living person at that station,” Morgan reminded her archly. “Fat lot of good it did him.”
“Captain ...”
“Lieutenant, your opinion is noted and forgotten,” said Calhoun. “Calhoun to Trident. Captain Shelby, you ready?”
“Ready, Captain Calhoun,” replied Shelby. The Trident was out of sight on the opposite side of the world, so her voice was a comfort to him.
“Robin ... put me on with the crew.”
Robin made a quick adjustment at the ops station and nodded. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“Attention all hands,” said Calhoun after a moment. “This vessel is about to be attacked by the same individuals who damaged us so badly in our previous encounter. We have, however, determined the source of their power ... and believe it or not ... the enemy is us. They will feed on any doubts, any reservations we have, and turn those doubts against us. We cannot permit that to happen.
“This ship ... this crew ... is more than just a Starfleet crew going through its paces. You are all, every one of you, heroes in your own right. The thing is, even heroes feel fear. They feel it, but they get the job done despite it.
“You have to be more than that. You must feel no fear. You must not waver in your confidence, even for a moment. Each and every one of you must visualize our triumph over these creatures. Visualize it, hold on to it for all it’s worth. Use it as a source of strength to overcome any hesitation or fear you might have, or might even think of having.
“And consider this: Throughout centuries, the greatest legends of mankind have been steeped in eras and times when mere mortals threw themselves against the will of the gods and triumphed over impossible odds. Those mortals are among the greatest, most epic of heroes that have ever existed. Rather than have a moment’s fear over our present situation, think upon the fact that you have th
e honor, the privilege, the pure joy of being here on an occasion that is positively epic. We face beings who purport to be gods. We fight a fight for control of our own destinies that began millennia ago and ends this day. And all of you, every single one of you, will cherish this opportunity and be able to hold your heads high and say, ‘I was there. I touched greatness. I am an epic hero. I served aboard a ship that carried me to greatness, and I was up to the journey.’
“And I know you are. As your captain, as your leader, as a man privileged to serve with you, I know that each and every one of you are.
“All hands, battle stations. This one is for the book of legends. Calhoun out.”
He paused a long moment then, allowing the silence to thicken. Then he said, “Captain Shelby ... you may want to give your own crew some sort of pep talk as well, just to make sure ...”
“I simply broadcast yours when you were speaking, Mac,” said Shelby, and even though it was only her voice, he could hear the smile in it. “I felt sure you could do the job for both of us. Good luck.”
“Same to you, Captain.” Then he turned to Ambassador Spock, who was simply standing there, stony-faced, looking at the planet below. “Is that what Captain Kirk would have done?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” said Spock. “Either that or he would simply have medicated the entire crew.”
“Oh,” said Calhoun. “Well ... that would have worked too, I suppose.”
“Captain,” came Morgan’s voice, “here they come.”
She was right.
They were visible on the screen, and it almost seemed a replay of the previous encounter. A sailing vessel of ancient origin, a trireme, coming straight toward them. Its battering ram protruded in the shape of a giant ram’s head, and it appeared on a collision course.
“Welcome to the party,” Calhoun said calmly.
“Captain,” said Spock, “it should be noted that, once battle is joined, anything can occur. And that the most difficult thing to fight ... is water.”
“Water?” said Kebron from tactical.
“Yes ... water, Mr. Kebron,” Calhoun agreed. “The ocean. The waves pound you, but you can’t hit it back because it moves wherever you try.”
“Enemy is preparing to engage. Evasive action, Captain?” came Morgan’s voice.
“Targeting incoming vessel,” said Kebron.
“Don’t do anything,” replied Calhoun.
“Nothing?”
“Morgan ... we’re going to need you for this, because nothing human can think fast enough. When they start firing, analyze where the missiles are going to hit, and simply roll with it. Preserve the shielding. Captain to all hands,” he continued without pause. “Just so you know, we’re going to be rocking a bit. But we’re not going to be hurt. Nothing they’re going to do can hurt us. And we’re going to rub their noses in that. In fact, if I were you, I’d start feeling sorry for them. Calhoun out.” He turned toward Burgoyne. “Burgy, make sure engineering is keeping the white noise going through the sensor dish.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Here it comes!” called Lefler.
Just as before, arrows came hurtling through the ether of space. They hammered into the Excalibur’s shields, and the starship pitched and yawed with each new salvo. They did not, however, fire back.
“Status report, Mr. Kebron.”
“Shields holding, Captain.”
“Calhoun to all hands. Shields are holding firm. They’re not hurting us. Not at all.”
Again and again, as the trireme hurtled toward them, the darkness of space was alive with the glow of the arrows. And with computer precision, Morgan not only was able to roll with each new attack, but even began dodging some of them entirely. No starship was particularly graceful when it was under impulse power, but in the case of the Excalibur, under Morgan’s guidance, the vessel dipped, twisted, and turned about like a vast dancer.
Closer and closer came the trireme, and still the assault continued to have no effect. The entire time, Calhoun continued to speak to his crew, to exhort them to be utterly convinced that the Beings had no chance. He extolled their bravery, spoke condescendingly of the Beings, reminded them of all the challenges they’d faced before that they’d come through.
“They thought they could defeat us!” Calhoun called, his voice rising as if he were speaking to an array of troops spread across a field, and for the first time in ages, he felt the blood of what he once was, a warlord of Xenex, pounding through him. So sterile had been his time as commander, operating from a small room rather than being in the midst of his people, waving a sword, shouting encouragement to them and howling that no enemy could possibly stand in opposition to him. He hadn’t even realized it was missing until this very moment, but now, now he would never let it go again. “They thought they could batter us down! But they were wrong! We do not need to believe in them! We believe in ourselves! We will triumph! We will beat them down! We will show them that the United Federation of Planets does not bow, does not break to those who would try to deprive us of our very drive to achieve! Mr. Kebron: All phasers, fire!”
“All phasers firing!” shouted Kebron, and the Excalibur cut loose at the trireme. The phasers cut into the ship and the vessel skidded around, shaken. The Beings were visible upon the ship’s deck and they could be seen falling about, utterly shaken.
“No doubts!”
The phasers fired again.
“No uncertainties!”
And again, hammering down.
“No defeat!”
The trireme spun in space, lurching wildly from side to side, as if the invisible winds that propelled it had turned against it entirely.
III.
In Calhoun’s quarters, Moke ignored the rocking of the ship. Instead his entire attention was focused on the bearded man before him. He seemed more robust than before, and told Moke that it was because “the battle was joined,” which Moke didn’t understand, and that the Old Father could now “fully concentrate on the business at hand,” which Moke also didn’t understand.
But of all the things that eluded Moke’s comprehension, the whys and wherefores of the bearded man’s turnaround in ability to communicate was the least of them. He had more pressing problems on his mind.
“Why her?” he asked. “Why my mom? Why—?”
“Because,” said the Old Father, smiling benevolently, “in all my travels, in all the galaxy ... I saw her, and was struck by beauty as I’d never seen. Beauty of face. Of form. And of spirit. Pure.”
“Did you love her?”
His great head slowly nodded. “Yes.”
“Why ...” He felt his eyes misting up, and he wiped the tears away. “Why didn’t you stay with us?”
“I couldn’t. I would have liked to ... but it wasn’t possible.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes, Moke,” said the Old Father gently, “you have to take certain things on faith. The truth of it is ... gods make lousy fathers for the most part. But I was watching over you ...”
“If you were watching over us,” said Moke, “then why did you let Mom get killed?”
The Old Father sighed heavily at that. “Sometimes, Moke ... mortals do foolish things. It would be nice if the gods could stop them from doing it ... but then mortals would never learn. Unfortunately, because of that, sometimes very good people die.”
“I know. But I taught them,” Moke said, his eyes glistening once more, but this time there was cold anger and even relishing of what had happened that fateful day. “I taught them. I hurt them. Badly.”
“Yes,” nodded the Old Father. “You did. Using the power you got from me. That was a gift I was able to give to you. I would have liked to do more ... but all of us, Moke, all of us ... mortal or immortal ... we do exactly and precisely just as much as we can, and no more than that. It’s sad but it’s true.”
“Did you bring Mac to me? To our world? Did he land there because of you?”
“Yes,” said the Old Father
without hesitation.
And Moke realized that he had no idea whether Woden was lying or not ... and made the conscious choice, at that point, not to care.
“Thank you,” he said. “And ... thank you for making Mom happy ... even if it was only for a little while. She needed it.”
“You’re welcome,” said the Old Father. “And Moke ... I need something, too.”
“What is it?” asked Moke, eyebrow raised.
IV.
In sickbay, Mark McHenry screamed.
It was a sound that caught every med tech completely off guard, and a number of them let out similar startled cries as McHenry, who had been lying immobile, in a twilight state between life and death, sat up on the table and gave a startled shriek. Then he coughed violently as air flooded back into his lungs and he fell back.
Dr. Selar, the only person in sickbay who kept her wits about her, ran to McHenry’s side and started shouting for stimulants to be pumped into him. The ship continued to rock under the battle that was ongoing in space, but Selar was only concerned with the fight for a man’s life that had suddenly reignited in sickbay.
And then his eyes snapped open, and he looked at empty space in front of him, and his voice croaked as he said to nothingness, “Yes ... I believe in you ...”
V.
“Yes, I forgive you,” said Moke to the bearded man who stood before him in Calhoun’s quarters. “And I believe in you.”
And suddenly Moke cried out, thrown back like a puppet yanked by a string, and energy seemed to spiral out of him.
VI.
And suddenly McHenry cried out, thrown back like a puppet yanked by a string, and energy seemed to spiral out of him.
VII.
“Captain,” Morgan suddenly said, “something is happening. Some sort of rift is opening in front of us. Readings similar to a wormhole, but with major variances.”
“Are the Beings causing it?” demanded Calhoun, sitting forward in his chair.
