STAR TREK: NF 13 - Gods Above

by Peter David

  “I believe it unlikely,” Spock said. “Particularly since it appears to be affecting them far more than it is us.”

  The Vulcan was right. Ahead of them in space, a whirling vortex of energy had opened up and seemed focused on the trireme. The focus on the screen zoomed in on the Beings, and they were running about, looking panicked. Calhoun was able to make out Anubis, and he was shaking his head violently, seemingly petrified by the energy whorl.

  “Get me some specifics!” shouted Calhoun. “What are we facing here?”

  “All readings off the scales,” called out Burgoyne.

  “We have got to get bigger scales,” muttered Kebron.

  Some of the beings actually tried to leap out of the trireme, and they were the first to be hauled, kicking and screaming in the silence of space, toward the vortex. The ancient sailing ship shook violently, began to splinter, and then with a rending and tearing of wood-that-wasn’t-wood, the ship tore in half. The rear spiraled into the energy whirlpool, and more of the Beings fell in that direction as well. Then the prow of the trireme followed, tumbling, and they could just make out Anubis clutching on for dear life, and then there was a release and discharge of energy so blinding that the screen shut off for a moment to preserve the eyesight of anyone watching.

  VIII.

  In sickbay, Mark McHenry—still with the horrific scars and burns that couldn’t be healed—sat fully up once more and swung his legs off the med-lab table.

  “Lieutenant, lie down immediately! That’s an order!” snapped Selar.

  He paid no attention, shoving her aside and stumbling forward, lurching wildly and grabbing for support.

  And suddenly everyone in sickbay saw him.

  An old man, older than seemed possible, with a vast white beard and one eye, who wore his years around him like; a great cloak that was weighing him down for one, final time.

  He sagged forward, and McHenry put his arms out and, much to McHenry’s shock, caught him.

  “Did it,” whispered the Old Father. “As ... their power drained ... mine grew ... used the spark of divine ... in you and Moke ... broke free ... did it ... can’t ... can’t anymore ...”

  “Rest,” McHenry urged through cracked lips. “Rest now.”

  “Oh, I will,” and the Old Father had a twinkle in his eye. “For good. Your turn now. Yours or Moke’s ... but I’m thinking ... yours ... let him grow up some ... and ... and Mark ... get the job done ... as I know you can ...”

  And slowly the Old Father began to dissolve.

  And Mark McHenry felt him seeping into every pore, every atom of his being. Felt a glow suffusing him, and power and knowledge, and of course, everything made so much more sense now. ...

  The med techs stepped back as the glow spread further and further, seeming to creep into every corner of the sickbay. Dr. Selar didn’t even think to call for a security team. For all her Vulcan training, she was watching with as much open wonderment as the most emotional human. She felt an unaccustomed wetness on her face and realized it was tears. Quickly, shamed, she wiped them away.

  And then there was a vast release of colors and light, a soundless explosion, and the light was gone.

  And so was Mark McHenry.

  IX.

  “Okay,” said Calhoun, staring at the screen, which was devoid of any type of threat. “Would someone care to tell me what just happened?”

  “All right,” said McHenry.

  He had appeared with no warning, no introductory burst of light. He was just there, looking very much like his old self.

  There were gasps of confusion, but McHenry held up his hand in a casually peremptory fashion. “The Beings are gone ... well, not gone, exactly. Imprisoned. Sealed off.”

  “How?”

  “Partly Woden’s power, Captain. Partly mine and Moke’s. And partly yours.” He smiled upon seeing Calhoun’s confusion. “Woden was unique among all the Beings, which is probably why he was just about the most powerful of them all, and why the others feared him. See, they could only derive power from people believing in them. So could Woden—or Zeus, or Kris Kringle, or any of the other names that he’s used throughout the—”

  “Kris Kringle?” said a stunned Robin Lefler. “You mean ... Santa Claus? You’re telling me that the Beings were defeated because we believed in Santa Claus?! Come on!”

  “Robin, not now,” Burgoyne warned.

  “Partly that,” admitted McHenry. “But of all the Beings, he was the only one able to draw strength and sustenance from people believing in themselves. The fact that you faced down the Beings, that you collectively weren’t afraid ... that gave him the additional strength he needed to break out of the imprisonment that the others had inflicted upon him, and let him turn the tables. But ...”

  “But what ... ?”

  McHenry sighed heavily. “It cost him. Cost him everything ... except his inner essence, which he placed into me. And the problem is, the Beings can be imprisoned ... but destroying them is a much more difficult matter. Someone has to remain as a sentinel against their possible return ... plus as an early warning against other extradimensional threats that could harm all reality ... or, at the very least, be really, really annoying. And I’m afraid that’s gonna have to be me. No more sleeping at my station.”

  “I don’t accept that,” said Calhoun. “There must be another way ...”

  At that, McHenry laughed. “Sorry, Captain. There are some things in the universe that are beyond the influence of even the great Mackenzie Calhoun.” And very, very slowly, McHenry started to fade. “Don’t be concerned. I’ve always felt such an affinity for the stars. Well ... now I’ll be walking among them.”

  “Will ...” Burgoyne sounded as if hir voice was choking. “Will we see you again?”

  “You’d better hope not,” said McHenry. “Because chances are, if you do, I won’t be showing up with good news.” He smiled at Kebron. “When we started at the Academy, Zak, bet you never thought you’d wind up serving next to a demigod, huh?”

  “McHenry,” said Kebron, “there’s things that should be said ...”

  “Say them some other time. I’ll stumble over ’em sooner or later. Oh, and Robin ...”

  “Mark ... ?”

  He wagged a finger at her. “I’ll know if you’ve been naughty or nice. So watch it.”

  And he disappeared.

  DANTER

  SOLETA WOKE UP.

  She wasn’t even sure she had been sleeping. All she knew was that she was lying in a field, and suddenly there was a clarity of vision that she had been lacking before.

  And then, slowly, the memories began to creep back to her. The memories of peace of mind, and warmth, and a lack of concern.

  And a smiling face above her, and heat within her.

  She had lost all of that, and instead her free will had been returned to her.

  She should have been happy. And relieved. Even angry.

  Instead she began to sob.

  TRIDENT

  SHELBY SHOOK HER HEAD in disbelief as she and Calhoun walked down the corridor leading to the turbolift.

  “So McHenry’s gone?”

  “That’s right,” said Calhoun.

  “And Soleta’s returned to the ship.”

  “Feeling very bewildered and, I think, rather embarrassed,” Calhoun told her. “And the effects of the ambrosia are wearing off the rest of the Danteri as well. They’ve already been imploring Si Cwan to come back and take another stab at beginning a new Thallonian Empire.”

  “Let me guess,” said Shelby. “He doesn’t want any part of it.”

  “No. The Danteri were no joy to work with even before the Beings got involved with them. Si Cwan is interested in keeping a safe distance from them. I think he’s still enchanted with the idea of a new Thallonian Empire, but he’s convinced the Danteri aren’t the way to go.”

  “Our remaining problem is the Tholians,” said Shelby. “Fortunately enough, Ambassador Spock is with us. The Tholians are on
their way, but we’re thinking the ambassador will be able to forestall any problems. Especially when he explains that the downside of ambrosia is that it makes anyone who takes it extremely peaceful. I doubt that’s going to be very attractive to the Tholians.” She paused just before they got to the turbo-lift, turned, and said to Calhoun, “I’m very proud of the way you handled everything. I really am.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you. And I love you.”

  She laughed softly. “You don’t initiate that statement very often. And I love you, too.”

  “Tell me,” he said, “do you think they’d miss me back on the Excalibur if I was gone for, oh ... another half hour or so?”

  “Even if they did, they’d probably figure out why and have the good taste not to comment on it.”

  “Your cabin?”

  “By all means.”

  They walked forward into the turbolift, the door hissing open, and Shelby jumped back and barely stifled a shriek.

  The ripped-up body of Lieutenant Commander Gleau tumbled out of the lift, staring with lifeless eyes up at them.

  “This might take longer than a half hour,” said Calhoun.

  About the e-Book

  (DEC, 2003)—Scanned, proofed, and formatted by Bibliophile.