"Depends. Where have you got?"
"You happen to be sitting in what passes for the height of civi-lization on Yakaba," Tapinza told him.
Calhoun looked around and saw uniformity of bobbing heads from the others. Spangler did break off from the others long enough to add, "Although I hear that, in Padulla province-about a hundred miles east of here-they're actually developing a ma-
chine capable of generating cooling air inside buildings. They've been testing it out."
"An air conditioner," Calhoun said slowly. "You're saying they've invented air-conditioning." "I'm not sure what they call it," said Spangler. "And this Padulla... what do they have in the way of commu-nication facilities?" Calhoun asked. Tapinza instantly knew that it was a question of extreme significance to Calhoun.
This drew blank stares from the council. "What do you mean?" Milos said finally.
"Well... how do they communicate with one another?" "They... move their mouths... and words come out." Maestress Cawfiel was speaking very delicately, as if addressing someone who was mentally deficient. "I mean, what if long distances separate them?" "Then they walk toward each other."
Calhoun rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he was suddenly in a good deal of pain. "What if you want to talk to someone in Padulla?" This generated laughter from everyone in the room, with the exception of Tapinza, who was watching the exchange with great curiosity, and Calhoun, who did not share in the merriment his question had prompted. "Why," Milos asked when the laughter had subsided, "would we want to talk to someone in Padulla?" "I don't know. Perhaps you'd want to acquire an air conditioner." The notion immediately seized their collective fancy. "You know... that's not a bad idea," said Spangler.
"It would keep bodies cool," Howzer pointed out. "Certainly make my job easier."
The Maestress did not seem enthused by the notion. "Such things," she said, "can cany dire consequences. They are not nat-ural."
"It was just an example," Calhoun said impatiently. "The point is-"
"Allow me." Tapinza cut in and turned to Calhoun, a benevolent and patient expression carefully crafted on his face. "Calhoun...
--
you don't quite seem to grasp the local mind-set. Clearly, you've spent a good deal of time on your own, and so you may have... forgotten... local mores."
"Perhaps," Calhoun said judiciously. "Why don't you en-lighten me?"
"There is a great deal of territoriality in the Yakaban mind-set," Tapinza explained. '*Cities tend to be fairly... insulated. Com-munication from town to town, city to city, is considered... rude. Intrusive. People tend to keep to themselves. It can be a conve-nient philosophy if one has... personal matters... one would rather not have discussed."
"I'm sure," said Calhoun, his voice emotionless.
"Unfortunately, it tends to limit personal growth, and dimin-ishes the chances that this world will ever be united enough to achieve something of truly stellar proportions, such as... oh... I don't know..." And then, with great significance, he said,"... communicating with races from other worlds."
This drew a round of unrestrained laughter from the council. "There he goes again!" said Milos, his eyes twinkling with amusement, before he added, "My apologies, Maester. I did not intend to give offense. But we've had this discussion before, and, I admit, I always find it most entertaining."
"If I can lighten your day in any manner, it is my pleasure to do so," said Tapinza. But he was paying no attention to the others at all. Instead, he was focusing once more, entirely, on Calhoun.
Calhoun was looking right back at him, and even though his face was impassive, Tapinza could tell that his message had gotten through and been acknowledged. He knew Calhoun for what he was, even if these blind fools did not, and Calhoun knew that he
knew.
"We've gotten significantly offtrack," the Maestress said
archly, endeavoring to bring matters back into focus. "The ques-
tion before us is-or should be-convincing Calhoun here to stay
on as Majister." a
Calhoun started to speak, but he was already shaking his
head, and that was when Tapinza said quickly, "Perhaps... I might be able to speak to Calhoun... in private? For a few minutes?"
The council members looked at each other in puzzlement. "Maester, I'm... not quite sure what-you could say that could possibly-"
"I... have a way with people. That's all," said Tapinza. As if the matter was already settled, he rose and gestured to the door. "Calhoun? After you..."
Calhoun hesitated, but then shrugged again and rose. Without a word, he followed Tapinza out the door and into an adjoining hall-way. He turned to face him, and simply waited there, his arms folded.
"I know what you are," Tapinza said briskly.
"Do you?"
He sighed. "Calhoun, the good residents of Yakaba are, at heart, decent... or at least have the potential for it. But their experi-ences, their knowledge, are provincial and limited."
"And yours aren't?"
"Mine? Certainly not. I am the most successful businessman in the three territories combined."
Calhoun nodded slowly, appearing to consider that. "Is that good?" he asked finally.
Tapinza chuckled. "Yes. That's very good. Of course, I'm sure that it's meaningless to someone like you. Someone who has walked the corridors of outer space and been to other worlds would certainly consider what transpires on this one little planet to be insignificant, indeed."
"You believe I'm from outer space. Odd. None of your associ-ates seems to have drawn that conclusion."
Tapinza leaned against the wall and chuckled once more. "Cal-houn... there is something you need to understand about my people. As a race, they have very little imagination. I do not know why that is. Call it a trait; call it something in the structure of the brain,an underdevelopment of some lobe or stem. I'm not a biol-
ogist; I've done no study. I'm simply saying that that is who we are. Base superstition, distrust of the unknown... these are things they can easily grasp. But to be able to look to the skies and wonder what dwells beyond..." He shook his head. "I am afraid that it is simply beyond them. They look at you and they literally do not know what they see. Oh, I suppose if you had extra arms flopping about, or came in with unknown weaponry and began destroying the city in flying war machines, they might begin to grasp that there is much that they have not yet begun to dream of. For the moment, however, such notions are beyond their range."
"But not beyond yours," noted Calhoun.
"No. Not beyond mine." He looked askance at Calhoun. "You have not volunteered the information. Why?"
"Caution. I wasn't quite sure how they would take it."
"That was wise. A revelation of that sort might very well be more than they could handle. Or they would not believe you. Or they might try to kill you. No matter what, it would not go well for you." He scratched his chin thoughtfully, and then said, "You wish to find a way back to the stars."
"That is my hope, yes."
"You arrived in a vessel. Crashed, I assume, else you would have simply climbed into it and taken off."
"I'll need to find it again, look it over. But the landing was very rough. It's extremely unlikely that it's spaceworthy, and I'm get-ting the distinct impression that I'm not going to find here what I would need to repair it. Unless, of course, I was interested in in-stalling an air conditioner."
'That you are an alien and yet are fundamentally shaped like us... that, I accept. But I understand your words, and you mine. How is that?"
"Instantaneous translator. I'm just lucky it wasn't damaged in the crash, or we'd be standing here speaking gibberish at each other." Calhoun studied Tapinza thoughtfully. "You're going to suggest I take this position they're offering, aren't you?"
He nodded. "You are, to all intents and purposes, marooned
here. What you need is some sort of broadcast device that will en-able you to contact your... peers. Let them know that you are here, so
they can come back and rescue you."
'That was my thought, yes."
"As you might have surmised, such technology does not exist on our world..." He let the rest of the sentence hang.
Calhoun picked up on it. "Yet."
"Yet. That is correct."
"Let me guess: It's something that you are working on, trying to develop."
'Trying, but not being entirely successful. I have what passes for technicians working on such a thing, but progress has been slow. You, on the other hand, could help me tremendously in that pursuit Show me where our research has gone wrong, teach us-"
Calhoun shook his head. "Would that I could. The thing is, I've never been a technician. I can use such devices if they already exist, but knowing how to build one? No. No, I'm afraid my ex-pertise lies in other areas."
"Such as?"
He appeared to consider his assorted strengths and finally said, "I'm a hell of a dancer."
Tapinza smiled thinly at that. "That will certainly serve you well. Very well, Calhoun. I shall continue my research, pursue my own endeavors. My people inform me that they are quite certain they will have a working device...in a year or two." He watched Calhoun's expression carefully, but was rewarded by nothing. Calhoun's face was as inscrutable as ever, although there was brief amusement flickering in the purple eyes, as if he knew that Tapinza was trying unsuccessfully to read his mind. "Now, of course, I need not allow you to avail yourself of the device, if and when it should be operational. However..."
"If I take on the job of Majister, you will allow me use of it.
And may I ask what your interest in all of this is?" "Isn't that obvious?" "Not readily, no."
"Why... I care about these people, Calhoun. Care about what happens to them. No matter that I may have a low opinion of them; they are still my people, and I can-and should-do what-ever I can to aid them. Particularly because I am a man of vision. If those with vision do not provide leadership... who will? And besides, Calhoun-do you have anything better to do?"
"It... would seem not," Calhoun admitted.
"So, why not use your time constructively? To help others?"
"And possibly get myself killed."
"Odd. You do not strike me as a man who fears death "
"In that regard, sir... you're correct." He thought about it a moment more, but Tapinza knew he had him. He was positive of it.
"And there's one other thing that you haven't considered," Tap-inza added.
"What might that be?"
"You've seen the low level of technology all around us. A low level that exists primarily because of lack of vision. You, sir, have vision. Why, the two of us together," Tapinza draped an arm around Calhoun's shoulder, "could bring new technology, new concepts to this city... improve the standard of living beyond anything that the people of limited sight here could possibly believe."
"You're a great believer in technology, I take it."
"I would think I've made that quite clear. And you are, as well."
Calhoun laughed softly to himself. "I'm not quite as sure about that as you are. Technology has its uses, certainly. And I'm depen-dent upon it to get out of here. But it's not the be-all and end-all that you seem to think it is. Once upon a time, I lived on a world that was very low in technology, indeed. In some ways..." he said wistfully, "I think those were the happiest times of my life. I didn't know or care what was beyond my little sphere."
"You lived in ignorance."
"No. I thrived in ignorance. And that, Maester Tapinza... is not always a bad thing."
Calhoun turned and headed back into the other room. The mo-mentarily confused Tapinza followed him. When Calhoun en-
tered, everyone in the room-with the exception of the Maestress-got to their feet. He gestured for them to sit and looked around at them for a long moment Tapinza had the dis-tinct feeling that Calhoun was dragging it out for his benefit
"All right," he said finally. "I'll do it" There was an audible sigh of relief from those in die room, and then Calhoun continued. "But I'm not going to commit to any length of time. It has to be understood:-I'm just passing through."
"Where are you passing through to?" inquired the Maestress.
"Wherever the road may lead," Calhoun said.
"Well," said the Praestor, "I'm hoping that our little town will grow on you, and you'll be willing to stay here indefinitely. But, in the meantime, I'll be more than happy to take whatever you're willing to give us. Welcome to Narrin, Majister Calhoun."
"I hope you don't get killed," Spangler said cheerily.
"That makes two of us," said Calhoun.
"Three," said the Praestor, and everyone else in the room chimed in, upping the number one by one until only Howzer the mortician had not offered an opinion.
He glanced at his watch. "My, look at the time," he said.
Calhoun looked at the others and commented, "Now there's a man who has his priorities in order."
Tapinza, however, had his own priorities in order as well. Cal-houn's little lecture about the joys of living in a low-tech world gave hrni the uneasy feeling that Calhoun's priorities might be in conflict with his own. He hoped that would not be the case. He saw Calhoun as a potential ally. But if Calhoun were to become an enemy, well... Tapinza had had enemies before. They had all wound up in the same place, and Tapinza was still here. And Cal-houn was unquestionably out of his territory. If it came to a con-flict, there was no doubt who was going to come out on top.
SHELBY
"captain, we can't. It'd be a violation of regs."
It was all Shelby could do to stifle a laugh, despite the serious-ness of the situation. She could not count the number of times she had said those exact words, in that exact tone, to Calhoun. She wondered if Calhoun had felt at those times what she was feeling now: annoyance. Impatience at being second-guessed. Perhaps a tinge of guilt, because the statement was absolutely true. Aggra-vated over being presented with a scenario where the compulsion was to help and the regulation was to withhold same.
By the same token, she knew precisely how she herself felt when issuing such pronouncements: frustrated at having to point out that which was so obvious. A sense of self-righteousness, be-cause she was so certain that she invariably knew what was best. Perhaps a certainty that she would not be making these kinds of mistakes or decisions if it were she who was in charge.
They had been on her-although with all respect, of course- from the moment they had all sat down together, starting with Shelby's refusal to depart planetside. '1 would have been within my rights to beam you up, Captain, whether you were inclined to go or not," Garbeck had pointed out.
Shelby's response was that she had been concerned over sending
mixed messages about the UFP. To say to the Makkusians, on the one hand, how the UFP and Starfleet were going to be there for them when help was needed... and then the first time that some sort of jeopardy presents itself, they bolt? No, she'd felt it necessary to stay on the surface for the duration of the attack, for as long as she'd had to. It was, to her mind, the only way to show that she was acting in good faith. Still, it was an explanation that had not gone over well with her command staff. Then again, since when did she have to worry about what the command staff's opinion of her was?
Seated there were Garbeck, Science Officer Tlilley, Security Head Kahn, Lieutenant Augustine, Doctor Kosa, and the ship's Counselor, Laura Ap'Boylan, a Betazoid with large, limpid eyes that had the remarkable knack of burrowing deep into one's soul, and a thick shock of startlingly bright blond hair that made her look as if her head was perpetually glowing. It had been Garbeck who had spoken, but clearly they were of one mind.
For some reason, this bugged the hell out of Shelby. Whenever such discussions had arisen on the Excalibur, there had been as many differing opinions as there were people in the room. Yet here...
Stop complaining. You handpicked this crew. You didn't like the way things were on the Excalibur. So you don't get to whine about it no
w.
"I'm aware of that," Shelby said carefully. 'Technically-"
"There is no 'technically' involved, Captain," Garbeck told her firmly. "It either is or it isn't. In this case, your suggested action clearly is in violation. These insects are a natural outgrowth of the planet's environment-?" Although she was looking at Shelby, the question was obviously addressed to Tulley.
The science officer nodded briskly. "Yes. Absolutely. The cap-tain was kind enough to bring us back a specimen or two," and he inclined his head toward Shelby in appreciation. "We've made a thorough study of them and they are definitely native to this world. There is... a curiosity about it."
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