Daedalus's Children

by Dave Stern

  “Cut to the chase, Malcolm.”

  “They’re on an attack run, sir. Headed straight for Denari.”

  The captain sat up straight. Reed had his full attention now.

  “Show me.”

  Malcolm sent the data to his screen. Archer took one look at it and saw his tactical officer was right.

  “Hell,” the captain said, and stood up.

  He walked out of the ready room, and into the middle of a heated argument between Trip, Kairn, and Makandros.

  “Captain Duvall assured us,” Trip was saying, “she was the only one who ever knew that Sadir wasn’t the boy’s father. Talk to the kid. He didn’t even—”

  “These two men have no desire to talk. They’ve already made their decision. To go to war,” Archer interrupted, looking up at the screen. “Isn’t that so?”

  Now it was Makandros and Kairn who were surprised. Only for a second, though.

  “Captain Archer,” the general said. “All recovered from your injuries, I see.”

  “Don’t ignore my question, General.”

  “We owe you no answers. Our plans are of no consequence to you.”

  “We’re trying to help you.”

  “Your concern is noted.”

  “Don’t be this way, General. You know how many people are going to die if you attack.”

  “And how many people are going to die if we don’t?” Makandros shot back. “There are times, Captain, when war is the only option.”

  “There are. But you have another right now. Leeman Sadir.”

  Makandros shook his head. “The boy is useless to us. As I’ve just finished explaining to your commander. Now if there’s nothing else—”

  “I thought you wanted peace.”

  “We want peace more than anything else, Captain. Believe me.” Kairn leaned forward in his command chair. “But a lasting peace—not one negotiated under false pretenses. Not a peace that could degenerate into an even bloodier conflict than the one we face now.”

  “If you don’t want blood spilled,” the captain said pointedly, “then break off your attack.”

  “Our intent is not to spill blood,” Kairn said. “Our intent—”

  “Excuse me, Marshal,” Makandros interrupted. “As I told you earlier, Captain—our plans are none of your concern.”

  “I’m trying,” Archer said through clenched teeth, “to help you—”

  “Your help is not wanted,” the general said. “Do not attempt to interfere with our plans. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to attack Enterprise a second time.”

  All at once, there was silence on the bridge.

  The captain let it hang for another few seconds before responding.

  “That would be a very, very stupid idea,” Archer said. “You’re not dealing with a crippled ship anymore.”

  “And you would not be dealing with a general under orders to capture your vessel intact.”

  The two men locked eyes a moment.

  “I trust we understand each other,” Makandros said.

  The screen went dark.

  “They’ve cut the signal, sir,” Carstairs said.

  Archer nodded, and sat down in his command chair.

  Trip stepped up alongside him. “What’s this about an attack?”

  Archer gestured to Malcolm, who filled Trip in.

  “Doesn’t make any sense,” his chief engineer said. “Going after Elson in the Kresh? They might have a lot more ships than us, but there’s still no way that’s anything but a suicide run.”

  “Maybe they’re hoping his forces will have their guard down while the Council meets,” Archer said, realizing even as he spoke that just the opposite would in fact be true. The PDC ships would be on high alert, with so many VIP’s in the Kresh.

  “Or maybe,” he said slowly. “They’re not going to attack the Kresh at all.”

  “Sir?” Trip asked.

  Archer turned to his chief engineer. “Tell me about Denari. Assuming Makandros and Kairn aren’t foolish enough to attack the Kresh, what else could they be trying to do?”

  “The planet has two continents. The Kresh is on the smaller one. The bigger one is where most of the population is.” Trip frowned. “I don’t know about targets there.”

  Archer nodded, thinking.

  Our intent is not to spill blood, Kairn had said. So what else could they be trying to do?

  “The other continent is where those explosions were,” he said out loud.

  “Charest,” Trip filled in.

  “Right.”

  “General Dirsch,” his chief engineer said. “I remember—Kairn said that he was one of the most powerful members of the Council. Maybe he survived. Maybe they found him.”

  “And they’re going to join forces?” the captain asked.

  “Could be.”

  “Or,” Malcolm spoke up now, “they could be trying to establish a base there.”

  Archer nodded. “Give themselves a supply line.”

  “God knows the Guild can use supplies,” Trip said.

  “Excuse me.” T’Pol stepped down from her station into the main bridge area. “Captain, this conversation is entirely academic, of course. Our efforts should now be focused elsewhere. Don’t you agree?”

  Archer locked eyes with his science officer.

  T’Pol was reminding him that they had other concerns—specifically, finding a way back through the anomaly to their own universe.

  Except the captain wasn’t quite ready to give up on this one yet.

  “Maybe,” Archer said. “And maybe not.”

  He stood and headed for the turbolift.

  “Sir? Where are you going?” Trip called after him.

  “Cargo Bay D-2,” Archer said. “Commander Tucker, you have the conn.”

  On a long mission such as Enterprise’s, massive storage space was required. Not just for food and other perishables, but for spare parts, specialized equipment, repair materials, and the like. Enterprise had multiple cargo bays to serve those purposes, one of which was bay D-2, located, not surprisingly, down on D-deck. During the first few months of the ship’s mission, it had been utilized primarily for items intended for trade with new species they encountered—replicas of art, artifacts, and other pieces of cultural significance. As those pieces were moved out, the idea had been to replace them with cultural artifacts from the civilizations they encountered.

  For one reason or another, however, that sort of swapping had not taken place. Archer had found himself, instead, leaving items behind and receiving nothing in return. This had resulted in an almost completely empty bay D-2. It was a long, narrow room, shaped somewhat like an old-fashioned squash court, with a two-deck-high bulkhead facing the entrance. A perfectly flat wall, perfectly suited for bouncing a ball off. A room perfectly suited for letting a dog run wild in.

  That was exactly what Porthos was doing when the captain arrived: running wildly after the tennis ball that Leeman Sadir had just thrown. His paws skittered on the hard metal surface as he chased after it, barking madly the whole while.

  The boy was laughing. Yamani, a step behind him, was smiling too. Neither had heard the captain come in.

  The captain gave them a few seconds more to enjoy the moment. Then he cleared his throat and spoke.

  “Lee.”

  The boy turned, and the smile disappeared from his face.

  “What’s happening?” he said. “What did you decide? The Council meets in—”

  “Less than two hours. I know.” Archer turned to Yamani. “That’ll be all, Ensign. Thank you.”

  The man nodded and left the bay. The captain turned back to the boy. His face must have given him away.

  “What’s the matter?” Lee asked. “Is something wrong?”

  The captain sighed. “We have to talk.”

  “About what?”

  Archer didn’t even know where to start. How to start.

  Porthos had caught up to the ball. He picked it up and bounded back over to Le
e, dropping it at his feet. The boy ignored him.

  “Captain?”

  “Come with me,” Archer said, making his decision.

  “Where?”

  “My cabin,” the captain replied. “There’s something I want to show you.”

  Archer bent, picked up the tennis ball, and led the way out of D-2, the boy and the dog following on his heels.

  He sat Lee down and explained it in as few words as he could. Then, while the boy was still shaking his head, the captain activated his workstation and brought up a picture on-screen.

  A picture of Henry Archer as he’d been at fourteen years old. A fishing trip somewhere, a pole slung over his back, in overalls and waders both two sizes too big for him.

  Lee stared at it a good, long time. Continuing to shake his head, and then, at last, stopping, and just sitting motionless.

  “It’s true,” the boy finally said. “I look just like him. Like you.”

  “More him than me.”

  The boy stood then, and began to pace.

  “I don’t know why I never saw it before. My mother had pictures of you, and I looked at them, and I never once thought…”

  “Not of me,” Archer said.

  “I know. The you here, in this universe. Not that it matters. They lied to me.” He looked right at Archer. “So did you.”

  The captain sighed. “I’m sorry, Lee. Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to tell you the truth now.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the boy said. “None of it matters.”

  He sat down heavily on the captain’s bed.

  “So you’re giving up?”

  “What do you mean? What choice do I have? Makandros and Kairn want nothing to do with me.”

  “You were willing to go to the Council without them before. Stand up to Elson.”

  “That was before. Now I’m not…I’m nobody. I have no right there.”

  “You have every right. You’re General Sadir’s son.”

  “He was not my father.”

  “Maybe not by blood, but you said it yourself, Lee. Everything you are, you owe to him.”

  The captain let his words hang there a moment while he considered the irony of his defending the memory of a man who had murdered thousands of people.

  “You wanted to be worthy of his memory,” Archer added gently. “This is your chance.”

  “I understand that,” the boy finally said. “But Makandros and Kairn…what if they contact the Council? Tell them that—”

  “I don’t think they will. Not in the middle of a surprise attack. Besides, even if they do, aren’t people likely to believe they’re simply trying to turn the Council against you?”

  “Maybe.” Lee still looked uncertain.

  Archer leaned closer. “They’ve already turned their backs on a chance to make peace, Lee. Do you want to do the same?”

  The boy shook his head. “No, I don’t. But what happens afterwards? Even if we can stop the war, people will find out about me.”

  “They might. But that’s afterwards. You have to decide what to do now.”

  “You’re saying, put my life at risk.”

  “If that’s what has to be done.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You wouldn’t be the one walking in there.”

  “And if I went with you? Would that make a difference?”

  “I don’t know. What does it matter? You can’t, right? People might see a resemblance.”

  Archer frowned. That had been his thinking before, but now…

  If he really had talked Lee into risking his life to stop this war, could the captain do any less?

  The com sounded.

  “Bridge to Captain Archer.”

  The captain turned and cleared his father’s picture from the display. He brought up the bridge monitor.

  Trip’s face filled the screen.

  “Thought you’d want to know, Captain. Council meets in an hour.”

  Archer nodded. Behind Trip, he saw Malcolm and T’Pol talking, heads bent together over the tactical station. Probably tracking Makandros and the Guild.

  “Sir?” Trip asked. “Are you—Have you talked to the boy?”

  “I have. He’s right here.”

  “So he knows.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And? What are your thoughts now, Captain? Your plans?”

  Archer frowned. I’m not sure, he was about to say.

  At that moment, T’Pol straightened up at the sensor station. The captain’s eyes went to her, and all at once…

  He had an idea.

  Twenty-Eight

  SOMEONE LET OUT a long, low whistle.

  Trip couldn’t tell if it was Malcolm or Travis. Both of whom stared up at the viewscreen with expressions halfway between shock and amazement.

  They were looking at the Kresh, courtesy of Enterprise’s sensors, rigged for maximum magnification.

  Not that the Kresh needed magnifying.

  “I told you it was big,” Trip said.

  “You, ah, weren’t kidding,” Travis replied.

  “I’ve seen smaller planets,” Malcolm said. He glanced down at his sensors. “Five minutes till we’re in range.”

  “Transporter range, you mean?” Trip asked.

  “Yes. Four and a half minutes till firing range. Their firing range. We can reach them from here with torpedoes, though I doubt we’d be able to do so with any real accuracy.”

  Trip nodded grimly. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Any word yet?” he asked, turning toward Carstairs.

  “Nothing, sir. They had to have picked us up by now.”

  “They have. They’re just not quite sure what to do about it, is my guess.” Trip had an image in his mind of the command center above the Kresh, dozens of black-clad soldiers scurrying about, scrambling to man the gun emplacements in the cap atop the massive structure.

  No. Dozens of soldiers was wrong. Hundreds. And within the Kresh itself, even more.

  “Does anyone else,” he said, shaking his head slowly, “think this is a really bad idea?”

  Lee was still staring at him, just as he’d been from the instant the captain had joined him on the transporter platform.

  “It’s me,” Archer said. “I promise.”

  The boy shook his head. “You don’t—I mean, I can barely recognize you.”

  “That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” The captain smiled and turned to Ensign Duel, who was manning the transporter controls. And staring at him as well.

  “You have our coordinates, Ensign?”

  The man blinked and then looked quickly down at his console. “Yes, sir. Locked in, and waiting for a signal from the bridge.”

  For a signal from Trip, who had been sitting with Duel and Lee for the last half hour, going through the layout of the Kresh based on his memory and the boy’s, and what sensor readings they’d been able to pick up from a distance. Enough information, his chief engineer felt, to enable them to beam in with a reasonable degree of accuracy.

  Archer, of course, had been elsewhere. With Doctor Phlox. Getting altered so that spotting a resemblance between him and Leeman Sadir would be well-nigh impossible. Now, if there was anyone on board Enterprise the captain looked like…

  It was Sub-Commander T’Pol.

  He felt the tips of his ears one more time. Strange. Archer had had prostheses before, but there was something about wearing this particular makeup…

  He could swear it was affecting his thinking. He felt a little more…logical.

  “Bridge to transporter room.”

  That was Trip. The captain nodded to Duel, who opened the com.

  “Archer here. Go ahead.”

  “Just heard from the Kresh, sir. We have thirty seconds to turn around, or they will consider our intentions hostile and act accordingly.”

  “And how long until we’re in transporter range?”

  “Longer than that.”

  “Prepare for evasive action, then.”
<
br />   “Travis is on it already, sir. Got a few tricks up his sleeve. Modified version of Rackham’s back door that should buy us a couple minutes, at least.”

  “Good.”

  “Captain,” Trip said hesitantly. “Are you sure—”

  Before Archer could tell him yet again that he was indeed quite committed to the plan they’d come up with, the ship shook suddenly, violently beneath him.

  That was no modified Rackham’s back door.

  That was weapons fire.

  “Was that thirty seconds already?” Archer heard Trip yell. “Damn. Sir—”

  “Go,” the captain said.

  “Good luck,” Trip replied hurriedly, and then broke contact.

  The captain turned to Lee, who was looking at him anxiously.

  “They’re firing on us.”

  “Nothing we can’t handle.” He felt the ship surge beneath him, and offered Lee what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

  Modified Rackham’s back door, Archer thought. Maybe modified so they boomeranged around the orbital platform above the Kresh, and came right back in at their target. That’s how he would have done it anyway.

  He thought about calling the bridge and suggesting it, and at that instant, T’Pol turned the corner and headed down the corridor directly toward them.

  “Sub-Commander. Come to see what kind of Vulcan I make?” Archer asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  As always, with T’Pol, it was wasted effort.

  “No, sir.”

  “You’re not going to try and talk me out of this again, because—”

  The ship shuddered once more, not a weapons explosion but a different kind of stress altogether. Even with the inertial dampers on full, as Archer knew they were, he felt the hull strain to keep up with the maneuvers Travis was demanding of it.

  “One minute,” Duel called out.

  “Not that either, Captain,” T’Pol said. “I know that once you have set your mind on a course of action, your resolve is unshakable.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Archer said. “So why are you here?”

  “To discuss certain…eventualities.”

  “Oh?”

  “Should you fail to return—”

  “Oh no.” Archer shook his head. He did not want to talk about this sort of thing in front of the boy—Lee was nervous enough already. “I’m coming back. You can count on it.”