Star Trek: New Frontier - 017 - Treason

by Peter David

  “Thermal readouts?”

  Soleta turned to Mueller, who had just spoken. “Yes. Why?”

  “Because they killed one of my men. Mick Gold. And then, when his body was on the floor and one of them approached me, he almost tripped over it. It was as if Gold had become invisible to him, or at least harder to see.”

  “That would be consistent with the type of sensory apparatus that the Danoob possess, especially if they count on such things as bodily metabolism to perceive living beings. Body temperature, pulse, and such.”

  “So how do we find them?” said Robin with growing urgency. “How do we find my son?”

  “When we first arrived, there was an energy spike from the planet’s surface,” said Mueller. “It was the origin for the transmat device that flooded our ship with those things.”

  “Got it,” said Morgan instantly. “I’ve downloaded it from your ship’s database. It’s here.” The image on the conference lounge monitor shifted from the frozen picture of the Brethren’s helmet to the planet’s surface with one particular section highlighted.

  “Scan it,” said Calhoun.

  “Already doing so,” said Morgan.

  Mueller glanced around the room. “Am I the only one who finds this disconcerting?” she said, indicating Morgan. There was shaking of heads from most of the people grouped around the table.

  “It’s at the edge of a mountain range,” Morgan said, apparently oblivious to the uncomfortable way in which the others were reacting to her. “I think there’s something there.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because I’m not getting anything from it.”

  There were confused looks. “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Calhoun.

  “It means that I’m getting sensor readings from the surrounding area, but not from there. It’s almost like a hole in the planet’s surface. A sensor hole. It’s rather sophisticated, actually. For an ordinary shipboard sensor array, it would work. It’s a way of tricking a standard shipboard computer. The computer is told that there’s nothing of interest there, and the computer in turn informs the human operator that that particular scanning section has drawn a blank and it’s time to move on. A normal ship’s computer wouldn’t be able to process that it’s actively being fed wrong information. But I, on the other hand—”

  “Am hardly normal?” Robin said with a rueful smile.

  “It can’t fool a seamless blending of technological development and human consciousness,” said Morgan, taking some pride in saying so. Then she added with a slightly rueful tone, “Unfortunately, I can’t perceive much beyond there. The area is shielded too thoroughly. There is definitely something there, but whatever it is, I cannot provide any details.”

  Calhoun leaned back against the wall. “I’m not exactly thrilled with this situation,” he said. “The odds could be insanely skewed. I’d like to know more before sending my people there on a rescue mission.”

  “Then don’t send in your people,” Soleta said quietly.

  All eyes turned to her. Calhoun knew immediately that this was not some random comment. Soleta already had a plan. It was just a matter of her laying it out. “If these ‘Brethren’ see via electronic means, I can rig up tricorders to create localized scrambling fields. It wouldn’t fool any one of them indefinitely. Just long enough that, if someone wearing the scrambler drew near them, they would experience difficulties with their ‘sight.’ They wouldn’t have reason to think that there is someone there, however. They would likely ascribe it to some sort of temporary technical malfunction. It would pass so quickly, as the wearer keeps moving, that they probably wouldn’t give it any thought.”

  “That’s a lot of likelies and probablies,” said Tobias.

  “I would estimate a ninety-three percent chance of success.” Soleta said primly.

  “I like the odds,” admitted Calhoun. “But what did you mean by not sending in my people?”

  “You send in me. And you send in Selar. I assume she’s not your person anymore—?”

  Voices raised in protest and confusion, but Calhoun silenced them with a pre-emptive wave of his hand. Selar had not reacted in the slightest in hearing her name brought up for what might well be a suicide mission. “It makes sense,” she said.

  “How in God’s name does it make sense?” said Robin angrily.

  “There is a chance that, even with the scrambling field generated by the tricorder, they will still be able to pick up some metabolic cues,” Soleta said, acting as if she were oblivious to the skepticism and even outright hostility in the room. “Vulcans have greater control over their metabolism than just about any other race in the Federation.”

  “Don’t you have faster pulses?”

  “Yes, Captain, we do. But we have the ability to slow our pulses through meditation and concentration. In an emergency situation, we can slow our hearts and pulses nearly to nonexistence.”

  “And you can function that way?” said Mueller.

  “No, we collapse. But we can bring ourselves out of it. So we have the best chance of eluding detection. The worst-case scenario: We are able to relay information to you of what we’ve seen before we are found and killed. And if we are killed, what have you lost? A former member of Starfleet and,” she glanced toward Selar, “a traitor who doesn’t have a friend on this vessel right now.”

  “Shut up,” said Xy. The calm in his voice was a stark contrast to the vehemence of his words.

  “I am simply saying—”

  “I know what you’re simply saying, but you’re saying them about my mother, and you will shut up or I’ll shut you up.”

  “All right, that’s enough,” said Calhoun sharply. “Soleta, you’re only half Vulcan…”

  “That is irrelevant. Romulans remain a Vulcan offshoot species. There are only some surface dissimilarities.”

  “The planet’s surface is extremely hostile to life,” said Selar. “Furthermore, if they have transmat beams, there is every likelihood that there is not a direct means of access from the surface to the underground location.”

  “That is not a problem,” said Morgan calmly. “I’ve been probing the area further with ship’s sensors. I have detected what I believe to be the underground facility. It is shielded against sensor probes, but I am able to triangulate a safe beam-down point.”

  “Captain,” said Robin, “you’re not actually considering this…”

  “No. I’m not considering it. I’ve decided. Soleta, do whatever needs to be done to the tricorders to enable you to avoid detection. Xy, provide her whatever help is necessary. Selar, you are cordially invited to partake of our facilities in the brig until such time that your presence is required.”

  “Captain—!”

  Calhoun glanced toward Robin. “May I remind you, Lady Cwan, that you are not a member of this crew. You serve because I am allowing you to serve, but I can and will revoke that privilege at any time. Your opinion is not being solicited in this matter. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Captain,” was all she managed to say.

  “Mr. Kebron, escort the doctor to the brig. Xy, take Soleta to the technical support bay and get started on the tricorders. The rest of you, to your posts.”

  They did as they were instructed immediately, although Robin hesitated long enough to fire what she no doubt thought was an angry glance Calhoun’s way.

  As Calhoun headed for the door, the last to leave, Morgan appeared in front of him. “I thought you were with Robin,” he said.

  “I am. I just needed to ask you, Captain. Are you sure of what you’re doing?”

  “Always.”

  “But how do you know it’s the right thing to do?”

  “I never am. That’s always judged after the fact.”

  “That’s a hell of a way to live.”

  He nodded grimly.

  iii.

  Selar had known that Burgoyne would show up sooner or later. In this case, it happened to be sooner. Indeed, it was at least t
hree minutes sooner than she had expected.

  Burgoyne stood just outside the brig, on the other side of the force field. “Are you all right?” s/he asked solicitously.

  “I am becoming accustomed to residing in brigs,” Selar said. “This one is, at least, more hospitable than the one aboard the Spectre.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant. You mean: Am I still insane?”

  “I wouldn’t have phrased it quite that way.”

  “No. You never would have. You would not have wanted to hurt my feelings. It is…a rare individual who worries about a Vulcan’s emotions. Most assume we simply do not possess any.”

  “I know better.” S/he stepped closer to the field. “Let me talk to the captain on your behalf.”

  “What?”

  “To the captain. To the crew. I can convince them that you weren’t in your right mind.”

  “I do not believe that will require much convincing.”

  “I can fix this, Selar. I swear I can. Stop shaking your head!” s/he said angrily.

  “It would be an exercise in futility. After what I did, no matter what the reason, it is ludicrous to think that I can simply pick up where I left off.”

  “Around this place? Stranger things have happened.”

  “A doctor must engender trust in her patients. How can anyone in this crew trust me, knowing what I am capable of?”

  “They’ll understand…”

  She got up and walked to the edge of the force field screen. “What is this truly about, Burgoyne? Why such fervency in your demeanor? Are you concerned about me? Or about yourself?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. What does this have to do with me?”

  “Everything,” she said. “I know you. You have been drowning in guilt for months now. You have seen my downward spiral, my attitude toward you. I have treated you terribly, and yet you keep coming back. You tell yourself that our relationship is salvageable, and that if you can only conceive of the right thing to say, the right approach to take, then somehow you can repair it. You have taken the weight of the world upon your shoulders and you are cracking under the strain.”

  “Selar—”

  “This is not about you, Burgoyne,” she said, but she did not have any of the typical, cold arrogance with which she had addressed him so frequently in the past months, when she deigned to speak to him at all. “This is not about failure on your part to save our relationship. To save me. You did all you could, and more than any reasonable being could have expected. This is entirely about me, and the decisions that I made, and my taking responsibility for my actions.” She paused and then said, “Lower the force field.”

  Burgoyne glanced around. There were no guards, and s/he was clearly apprehensive.

  “It will be all right,” she said softly. “I give you my word.”

  S/he reached over and shut off the force field generator. Selar didn’t move from the spot. They gazed at each other, and then Selar extended two fingers of her right hand and held them out to Burgoyne.

  Burgoyne reached out with hir two fingers and lay them across Selar’s. It was a gentle, loving caress.

  She reached out with her other hand and rested her fingertips on Burgoyne’s forehead. She closed her eyes. “So much pain,” she whispered. “So much pain. And I am the cause.”

  “I welcome it. It makes me feel alive.”

  “Yes. But there is such a thing as quality of life. And I can ease the pain.”

  “Don’t…please…”

  It was too late. She lowered her voice and, barely audible, she said, “Forget.”

  S/he shuddered slightly and then stepped back, looking at Selar in wonderment. “What did you do?”

  She reached over, took Burgoyne by the back of the neck, drew hir head forward to hers, and kissed hir gently. It was long and lingering and full of promise that would never be kept, and then she released Burgoyne and stepped back. “You will want to reactivate the force field now.”

  Burgoyne did so. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I am quite fine, thank you. And you?”

  “I am…quite fine as well,” said Burgoyne. “It was…good to see you again, Selar.”

  “And you, Burgoyne. And you.”

  Burgoyne walked away with a bit more spring in hir step than Selar could recall having seen in quite some time. Selar watched hir go, and then walked over to the far side of the brig and sat. Her hands rested on her legs and she stared straight ahead.

  A single tear rolled down her right cheek, but she quickly brushed it away before anyone could notice.

  iv.

  Soleta nodded in approval and lay the tricorder down on the worktable. “It works.”

  “Are you certain?” said Xy.

  “As certain as I can be without field-testing it.”

  “Except you’ll be putting your life, and my mother’s life, at risk in the process of doing so.”

  She saw no reason to sugarcoat it. “Yes. That is correct.” She paused and then said, “I can complete work on the second one by myself. Perhaps you would like to go see your mother?”

  “I would. Yes. But I…” He shook his head. “I do not think it would be advisable.”

  “As you wish.”

  He looked at her. “You don’t want to know why?”

  “I don’t consider it my business, no. My assumption is that you are concerned you will become overemotional and believe that such a display will make Selar uncomfortable. You are probably correct in that regard. Besides, there will be plenty of time for you to speak to her after we return with the child in hand.”

  “You truly believe that you will succeed?”

  “It is not my intention to die, if that is what you mean.”

  “Good.”

  She sensed that there was something else he wanted to say. She waited.

  “If you get my mother killed, I will kill you myself.”

  She stared at him and, to his annoyance, seemed more amused than threatened. “Believe me, Xy, if we are in a position where we’re being killed, your wrath will be the least of my concerns.”

  v.

  Selar and Soleta stood on the transporter platform. They were both armed with phasers, although based upon all that had transpired, it seemed to them that the phasers would be of minimal use. But Calhoun simply couldn’t see his way to sending them down unarmed.

  Morgan had materialized, her holographic form standing next to Transporter Chief Halliwell. Halliwell was looking a bit puzzled at the coordinates that Morgan—in her computer state—was feeding into her panel. “Are you sure?” Halliwell said. Morgan nodded.

  “Are you going to be able to communicate with us once you’re there?” said Calhoun.

  “My supposition would be that we won’t be able to,” said Soleta. “Presuming we find the child, we will have to find a way to either reach the surface—in which case, you will be able to detect Selar’s comm badge—or else we will find some means of contacting you.”

  “What sort of means?”

  “I do not know. But we can be resourceful if we have to.”

  He nodded. “I know that is very true. All right, then. Good luck.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” said Soleta. Selar did not reply. She looked stone-faced, in the midst of unimaginable pain, but unwilling or unable to even acknowledge it, much less deal with it.

  Calhoun said “Energize” with the same feeling as if he had just said “fire” to a firing squad that was aiming at two condemned prisoners standing against a wall. Sparkles enveloped Soleta and Selar, and just as they vanished, Xy charged into the transporter room so quickly that he banged his shoulder on the door because it hadn’t slid open quickly enough.

  “Mother!” he shouted. “I know you did it out of love for me! I know you—!”

  Selar smiled.

  He had never seen her smile in his life. Not ever. But she did so now, a broad and genuine grin that lit up her face, just before it diss
olved into molecules and then vanished. The last thing he saw go was the smile, giving Selar a resemblance to the Cheshire cat.

  Xy sagged against the wall and pulled his roiling emotions together. Calhoun walked over to him and stood in front of him, hands draped behind his back. Xy looked up at him and said, “She has a lovely smile, doesn’t she.”

  “Who knew?” said Calhoun. He patted Xy on the shoulder and then walked out of the transporter room.

  vi.

  Robin Lefler stepped into the turbolift, hoping that no one would try to jump into it with her and discuss something deeply emotional. Her nerves were strung so taut that she didn’t think she could handle much more. “Bridge,” she said.

  The turbo lift started moving.

  She paused and then said, “Mother? Are you there?”

  “Of course I am, dear,” came Morgan’s voice.

  “Just tell me: Where do we stand on Soleta and Selar’s…”—she couldn’t bring herself to say “rescue attempt”—“expedition,” she finished.

  “They have just been beamed down to the planet to the coordinates I provided. The ones I informed the captain I was able to discern by detecting subterranean activity.”

  “Yes. It was a good thing you were able to do that.”

  “I did not say I was able to do it. I said that is what I told the captain.”

  Robin felt a chill working its way down her spine. “What are you saying?”

  “I calculated a point underground several meters below the energy spike that Captain Mueller’s ship recorded. And that is where I instructed they be beamed to.”

  “But…you don’t know for sure?”

  “No. It does seem a reasonable guess, though.”

  “Reasonable guess? Mother…!” Robin was stunned. “Are you saying you may have just provided coordinates that beamed two people into solid rock?”

  “Not two people, Robin,” said Morgan, sounding chillingly indifferent. “One person who kidnapped my grandson, and one person whose poor choice of lovers provided an escape vehicle. The worst that happens is they die far more quickly and mercifully than they deserve.”