Star Trek: New Frontier - 017 - Treason

by Peter David

  She hesitated. She had told Burgoyne that it would be seventy-two hours before she knew for sure whether Rulan would survive. But she knew now that Rulan would, in fact, be just fine. Selar couldn’t determine when s/he would recover consciousness, but she knew s/he was going to survive the radiation poisoning that might well have killed anyone else. The problem was, if Selar gave the more optimistic assessment of Rulan’s chances, then Calhoun might start asking what aspect of Rulan’s condition had changed. And if asked directly, then Selar would naturally have to tell him…

  Why not tell him? He is your commanding officer. He has a right to the information at your disposal.

  Selar opened her mouth to tell him all about the Hermat’s condition, about the amazing cellular regeneration properties that s/he was displaying, about what it could possibly mean for her son. Instead, as much to her own surprise, she said, “Hir prognosis is positive and proceeding on schedule.” She had no idea why she said that, and worse, didn’t wish to figure out why.

  Calhoun’s purple eyes flickered, as if he had some idea that she was being less than forthright with him, but wasn’t positive enough to call her on it. Then he inclined his head slightly and said, “That’s excellent news. However, I think you should know that we have a medical emergency on our hands.”

  “Any of my personnel could handle it, Captain, whatever it is.”

  “I’m sure they can, but your presence has been requested and I am inclined to honor that request.”

  “Sir, I am monitoring a patient who is at a delicate state in hir recovery,” Selar said insistently. She realized she was fighting to keep her voice even and passionless. Fighting to do something that ordinarily came as naturally as breathing. “To take me away from hir at this point…”

  “No one is taking you away from hir, at least not immediately. You have another few hours with hir. We have to reach our destination before your services are required. After that, no promises.”

  “I do not understand. Our destination? This is not a shipboard emergency?”

  “No. It’s non-Starfleet personnel, actually.”

  “Then I do not understand why my involvement is required at all.”

  “Because the mother-to-be requested you.”

  “The…” Then she understood. “Robin Lefler.”

  “That’s right, Doctor. Robin Lefler is giving birth to the son of the late Si Cwan on New Thallon, and you are the only person she trusts to do the job.”

  I do not care. All I care about is my own son. Leave me alone, you arrogant bastard.

  “Please inform me as soon as we reach New Thallon,” said Doctor Selar, “and I will naturally do all within my power to deliver the male heir to the House of Cwan into the world.”

  New Thallon

  i.

  Kalinda, the sister of the late Si Cwan, sat on the floor in the far corner of the room. Her legs were drawn up, her chin resting on her knees, and her arms were wrapped around her legs, pulling them tightly against her. She rocked back and forth slowly, repeatedly whispering the same sorts of aimless comments that she had been muttering over the past months.

  Tusari Gyn, the Prime Arbiter of the New Thallonian Protectorate’s Council, could not help but feel pity for the girl. Or, more accurately, could not help but look as if he did. Tusari Gyn was extremely good at feigning such emotions. Whether he truly felt anything at all would have been difficult for anyone to know for sure. Some days he wasn’t even all that certain himself.

  Tusari Gyn had not been the Prime Arbiter when the Protectorate had first been formed. That honor had fallen to the late, lamented Fhermus of the House of Fhermus, a most worthy and brave Nelkarite. A Nelkarite who had fallen to the blade of the Lady Cwan in vengeance over the death of her husband, the equally late but most unlamented Si Cwan of the House of Cwan.

  At least, he was unlamented as far as the Council was concerned. Unfortunately, Si Cwan’s legend had grown in the retelling and he was gaining power and influence in his martyred state. There was a certain irony to the fact that Cwan was becoming more popular dead than he was while alive, but it was not unprecedented. Tusari Gyn had always been a student of history, and he was impressed by the staggering number of people who accomplished great things long after they had passed away.

  The problem for Kalinda was that she obviously had yet to acknowledge her brother’s passing.

  It seemed only yesterday to Tusari Gyn that he had been among the Protectorate Council, arguing over whether Kalinda’s betrothal to the son of Fhermus should be allowed, since such marriages were typically affairs arranged by others. Kalinda had been a different girl in those days, smiling and upbeat, happy, nearly ethereal in her presence. Although Tusari Gyn had spoken in opposition to the concept, secretly he could not help but adore the girl and feel envy for Fhermus’s son.

  How long ago that dispute was. Now both father and son were rotting in the Fhermus House’s crypt, Si Cwan was dead as well, and the creature that had survived all the trauma was Kalinda in appearance only. The poor girl’s mind was totally gone.

  “Is she like that all the time?” The question was put to him by Norkai, the new Nelkarite ambassador whom Tusari Gyn had taken under his wing, seemingly out of a sense of altruism, but actually so that he could influence—if not control outright—Norkai’s vote on all Council dealings.

  They were a study in contrasts, Norkai’s muscular build and golden skin standing in sharp opposition to the sallow appearance and the distended bone ridge on Tusari Gyn’s forehead that made his eyes almost impossible to see. Tusari Gyn preferred it that way, and was grateful to the evolutionary happenstance that had caused his race to develop in that manner. Eyes tended to give away far too much. They betrayed the inner thoughts of their owner, so the less visible they were, the better.

  Norkai had whispered to him, but Tusari Gyn did nothing to modulate his voice in response. “More or less all the time, yes.”

  “Shhh! She’ll hear you.”

  “I wouldn’t be too certain of that. Kalinda!” He raised his voice. “A fine day, is it not?”

  Kalinda didn’t reply. She continued to mutter at nothing.

  Norkai looked tremendously uncomfortable. “Shouldn’t she…be somewhere else? Somewhere not so out in the open for all to gawk at?”

  “No one gawks, Norkai. At least, not anymore. The Thallonians used to try to keep her sequestered in her room, but she always managed to get out, even when they locked her in. I think her keepers have just given up. So she’s allowed to wander the manor whenever and wherever she sees fit. People can become accustomed to just about anything.”

  “So it would seem.” Norkai tilted his head as if he could better grasp what he was seeing from a marginally different angle. “She acts as if she is speaking to someone directly rather than muttering to herself.”

  “She believes she is speaking to her dead brother,” said Tusari Gyn. “Pathetic, is it not? She simply cannot let go of him. Some people find death impossible to cope with.”

  “I…” Norkai once again lowered his tone nearly to a whisper, despite the fact that Kalinda obviously wasn’t hearing him. “I hear rumors that it is more than that. That she supposedly can see spirits. That she has vision directly into the afterlife.”

  “Yes, I have heard similar things. Nonsense. All nonsense. I find it astounding that such an intelligent individual as yourself would believe such absurdities.”

  “I didn’t say I believed it,” Norkai said quickly. “I just said that was what I had heard. That is all.”

  “Well, thank you for clarifying that. Come, then…let us look to matters of greater importance.”

  Tusari Gyn strode forward with the air of someone obsessed with his own significance. Norkai followed quickly, casting one last glance in Kalinda’s direction. He thought he heard her say, “They’re going away, we’re alone now,” but he wasn’t certain.

  The two council members made their way to the private chambers of the Lady Cwan. Th
ere was a frustrated-looking Thallonian doctor outside, calling through the door, “Lady Cwan! Lady Cwan, this is absurd! You are in need of medical attention!” Standing on either side of the door were two Thallonian guards, both of whom looked increasingly uncomfortable with the situation as it was developing.

  “Not from you, you quack!” Robin Lefler shouted from within. The irritated protest was followed by another moan.

  “Quack?” said Tusari Gyn in confusion.

  “I looked it up,” said the doctor, “after the first ten times she called me that. It appears to be an onomatopoeia for the noise made by an Earth fowl called a ‘duck.’”

  “What does that have to do with the practice of medicine?”

  The doctor shrugged.

  Tusari Gyn glanced at the guards. “This is insane. The woman is in need of medical assistance. If you have any loyalty to the New Thallonian Protectorate, you will let this good doctor in immediately so that he may attend to her.”

  The guards glanced at each other. The taller one said, “It is not up to us, sir. She’s sealed the door. Even we cannot override it.”

  “Really.” Tusari Gyn was unimpressed. Then he called through the door, “Lady Cwan! Or, if you prefer, Prime Minister! That is your official title, you know, inherited from your husband…even if you have been lax in your duties.”

  “Drop dead, Tusari!”

  “It’s nice to know that labor pains have not dampened your basic spirit,” he said.

  “Lady Cwan,” said the doctor imploringly, “you will do neither yourself nor your child any good by this isolation you have insisted upon. You cannot deliver the infant yourself.”

  “That’s my business!”

  Tusari Gyn was about to reply when she unleashed an ear-splitting screech from within. The guards winced upon hearing it. Reasoning that she wouldn’t be in any shape to hear what he had to say until it ended, Tusari Gyn waited patiently for the latest wave of pain she was experiencing to subside. When her agonies eventually tapered off, he said, “I beg to differ, Prime Minister. You are giving birth—or at least endeavoring to give birth—to the last heir of the House of Cwan, the most respected family in Thallonian history.”

  “So respected that your predecessor murdered my husband!”

  “That was regrettable.”

  “You endorsed it!”

  “Yes, but now I regret that I did so. You have no idea of the hold that Fhermus had on the hearts and minds of the Council. Had I sided against Fhermus, my head might well have wound up next to Cwan’s.”

  “You think I give a damn?”

  “Truthfully, I do not. You have the luxury of not caring. I, however, do not. I must reiterate that you are trying to bring the last heir of the House of Cwan into the world, without any sort of medical aid or anyone by your side. You are displaying a shocking lack of concern about both your health and that of your child.”

  “My concern is letting one of you bastards in here! The first thing you people did when you found out I was pregnant was tell me that you wanted to take my baby away!”

  “That was handled badly, I admit…”

  “Handled badly? They came in here with a knife to Kally’s throat and threatened to kill her unless I did what they said!”

  “I must remind you that I was not a part of that group, nor do I endorse their actions.” This, of course, was not strictly true. Tusari Gyn had known all about what his colleagues were doing. He had distanced himself from it, not because he disapproved, but so that he could act shocked. Tusari Gyn was very experienced at playing both sides against the middle. It was the Boragi way. “Frankly, I think they handled it abominably. I should point out, though,” he added, “that when they threatened to kill Kalinda, you invited them to do so.”

  “I was calling their bluff.”

  “Were you? Or did you simply not care? And are you now ashamed of your actions in the matter? It seems that all of us, Prime Minister, do things that we later regret.”

  She screamed again. Tusari Gyn glanced at his timepiece. “That,” he said, “was rather close to the previous one in terms of intervals.”

  “I know,” said the doctor worriedly.

  “Then I think we must do something about it.” He reached into his long, sweeping coat and removed a metal cylinder. “Prime Minister,” he informed her very carefully, “it is my belief that you are not thinking clearly. Because of that, and because of my position as Prime Arbiter, I’m afraid I must take matters into my own hands.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning that I have a cutting tool in my hand that I am about to employ on the door’s locking mechanism. I will cut a hole in the door and manually override the dead bolt seal. We will be in there inside of five minutes unless you open the door willingly.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “You’re giving me no choice.”

  “Guards! Stop him!”

  The guards moved automatically to do as she commanded, but Tusari Gyn did not back down. “Is this how you’re going to fulfil your responsibility to the house of Cwan?” he said. “By standing by and allowing this woman, who is obviously not thinking clearly through the pain, to condemn both herself and the last heir to death? You took an oath to Si Cwan. Do you think it would have been his wish to see harm befall his wife and child?”

  Once again the guards exchanged looks. Then, as if in unspoken accord with each other, they stepped back. One of them, the taller one again, called through the door, “Lady Cwan, I would not violate my oath to the House of Cwan for all the world. I would lay down my life for it. But I am not willing to lay down your life or the life of the child.”

  “I’m holding a phaser in my hand!” shouted Robin, clearly unimpressed by his claims of fealty. “Anybody who sets foot in here, I’ll blow you to atoms!”

  “She’s bluffing,” said Tusari Gyn.

  “You are undoubtedly right,” said the doctor. “However, in the event she’s not, might I suggest you go first?”

  To Tusari Gyn’s surprise, Norkai stepped forward. “Prime Minister, you are embarking upon a suicidal course,” he said sternly.

  “Go to hell, Norkai. Why should I listen to you? Your cousin killed my husband!”

  “Distant cousin,” he corrected her.

  “I don’t give a damn! Cwan’s blood is on your hands.”

  “And if I stand by and do nothing, then the blood of his child will likewise be on my hands.”

  “I have everything under contr—!”

  She screamed again, this one louder and longer than ever. As this happened, Tusari Gyn said, “Enough’s enough,” and immediately switched on his torch. He brought it up to the side of the door and started cutting into the metal. The guards stepped aside to give him room.

  “Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare!” she screamed from within, clearly able to hear the whining of the torch above her own outcries. The frantic sound of her voice led Tusari Gyn to believe that she had been bluffing about holding a phaser. She might well have weaponry at her disposal, but it was likely nowhere near the bed and she was hardly in a position to go and fetch it.

  Tusari Gyn kept at it as the doctor and Norkai watched, the doctor with increasing nervousness, Norkai impassively. “Almost there,” said Tusari Gyn. “Almost there…”

  Then he heard another noise above the sound of the torch. It was coming from within the chamber, and then the Lady Cwan moaned, “Oh, thank God! You sure as hell couldn’t have cut it any closer!”

  At that moment the square of metal fell away. Tusari Gyn reached in, quickly found the override, and activated it. The door slid open. Automatically Tusari Gyn started to run through but suddenly rebounded off something that amounted to a solid wall. He fell backward and hit the ground hard, landing on his tailbone with a startled yelp. He looked up. And up.

  A massive being that Tusari Gyn recognized all too readily was blocking the entrance. His arms were folded across his chest, and he wore a look on his face that seemed
a cross between amused and bored.

  “Sorry,” rumbled the massive being. “You’ll have to make an appointment.” Then he reached over, tapped a button on the inside, and the door slid closed again. Tusari Gyn started to reach for the hole in the wall that he had just carved with his torch, but as if capable of seeing through the door, the newcomer said, “If you slide the door open again, I’m going to be compelled to break you in half. No offense.”

  “None taken,” Tusari Gyn said with a slightly strangled voice as he lowered his hand.

  “Who, or what, was that?” said Norkai, visibly shaken from the encounter.

  “That,” said one of the guards, “was Zek Kebron, security officer for the Starship Excalibur. Which means, if I’m not mistaken, that the ship’s chief medical officer is likely in there delivering the child. We can take some solace in the notion that the baby is in safe hands.”

  “Well, that’s good to know,” said Tusari Gyn. “Come, friend Norkai, let us away.”

  He walked briskly down the hallway, Norkai trailing behind him. Norkai looked bewildered. “But…what about putting it into our hands?” he said in a low voice, even though they were far enough away from the door and Lady Cwan’s guards that nothing he said was going to be overheard. “Nothing has changed. The raising of the last heir of the House of Cwan is too great a responsibility to leave to an off-worlder. If she has a Brikar standing guard…”

  “He can’t stand guard forever,” said Tusari Gyn. “And our own people can handle the Thallonian guards if it comes to that.”

  “But what if she flees with the child?”

  “She wouldn’t dare. It would create an interstellar incident. Who would give her shelter? The Excalibur? The Federation would never allow it.”

  “From the things I’ve heard, one should never underestimate what the Federation will and will not allow where Mackenzie Calhoun is concerned.”

  Tusari Gyn did not reply because he had heard much the same.

  ii.

  “Is he coming?” Kalinda said, her voice barely above a whisper.