by Peter David
“Come,” Moke said immediately, and the door slid open.
Nice to know I still have what it takes to browbeat a teenager into submission, he thought grimly as he walked in.
Moke was seated on the edge of his bed, his hands folded on his knees. “Listen, Moke,” began Calhoun.
“I’ll go to the ship’s counselor,” Moke said.
“That’s not the point….”
“Respectfully, sir, I disagree.” Moke’s eyes were wide and unblinking. “You said I have things to work out. I think you’re right. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather work them out with the ship’s counselor. I would hope that’s acceptable.”
“Moke…”
“If you want, I’ll make an appointment right now. If you don’t trust me to do so on my own, I mean.”
This kid should play chess, Calhoun thought, before he remembered that not only had he taught Moke chess, but Moke in fact had beaten Calhoun rather handily on several occasions.
“I trust you to do so, Moke,” Calhoun sighed. “All right. See it done, then.”
Calhoun turned, headed for the door, realized that he should really say something like that he loved him, didn’t feel comfortable with it, half-nodded vaguely in Moke’s direction, and walked out.
As soon as the doors slid shut so that Calhoun couldn’t hear him, Moke said, “Yeah. I love you, too.”
New Thallon
Ankar, Si Cwan’s full-time (and Robin Lefler’s part-time) aide, walked into Robin’s office and said briskly, “The kidnapper is being brought in now. The Prime Minister assumed you’d want to be there.” Not waiting for a response, he went out just as fast as he’d come in.
Robin sighed, put aside some correspondence that she was in the middle of, and headed out after Si Cwan. Si Cwan’s manner with her had been stiff and formal ever since the altercation with Fhermus and Tiraud after Kalinda’s abduction, and having this news relayed by an aide was just another example of that. She reasoned that she shouldn’t be too upset with Cwan. That, indeed, if anyone was going to be understanding with him, it should be her. Not only was she his wife and therefore obliged to try and be supportive whenever she could (or whenever he wasn’t being a total ass), but she was Starfleet liaison to New Thallon, and obliged to try and help things to run smoothly whenever possible. Furthermore, purely in terms of human compassion, she knew that he was under a formidable amount of strain as a worried brother.
Still, she was relieved to have heard back from Admiral Jellico so quickly. It was only a four-word message, but they were the words she needed to hear: “I’ll alert Calhoun personally.” She noticed that Jellico didn’t specifically say he was going to send Calhoun into Thallonian space. That did not surprise her. These were delicate times in Sector 221-G, and discretion had to be observed whenever possible. Nevertheless, she was positive that Calhoun would be showing up as soon as humanly—or Xenexianly—possible.
Even though she hadn’t been specifically told, she still knew where Xyon would be brought: to the main reception hall, where all the major affairs of state were tended to. It was there that new ambassadors or dignitaries were greeted, and where reception revelries were held. Xyon, of course, fitted into none of those categories, adding a skewed perversity to the proceedings.
For all that the main reception hall was supposed to be part of the traditions of the New Thallonian Protectorate, it still evoked an imperial throne room as far as Robin was concerned, right down to the large chair at one end that faced out onto the room. The hall itself was decorated with flags, banners, or symbols of all fifty-seven members of the Protectorate, giving the entire place a busy and festive air.
There was nothing festive about the atmosphere of the place now. Instead various Protectorate representatives were there, grouped in a vague semicircle, facing the “throne” upon which Si Cwan was seated. He was not leaning back in his typical relaxed pose, but instead was perched on the edge, looking like a tiger ready to spring and only barely managing to hold himself back.
Fhermus was standing just to Si Cwan’s right. His right-hand man, Robin thought grimly. She had grown accustomed to the elaborate acrimony between the two of them and had even accepted that it was a necessary evil in terms of keeping the Protectorate functioning. The fact that the two of them were now clearly of one mind should have pleased her. Instead it caused a chill in the base of her spine.
Next to Fhermus was Tiraud. It had always seemed to her that Tiraud didn’t seem all that much like his father. Certainly the fact that he’d fallen in love with Kalinda indicated that he was far less rooted in the enmities of olden days than was his father. Now, though, in mien and attitude, he seemed indistinguishable from Fhermus. Robin definitely didn’t like the looks of that.
There was sustained muttering from the other ambassadors and representatives, and then the doors at the far end of the room thudded open. All eyes went to it as, moments later, Xyon was shoved into view. His hands were bound behind his back and, for extra security, there were manacles at his ankles linked together by two feet of chain. It impeded his ability to walk, forcing him to sort of shuffle forward. Several Nelkarites came into view behind him, the foremost shoving Xyon yet again, as if his slow progress was somehow his fault.
Inwardly, Robin let out a sigh of relief. She’d been worried that the Nelkarites might have worked Xyon over, and he had a bruise or two on his face. But it didn’t appear to be anything serious, and she was sure he had sustained far worse in his lifetime.
Part of her still couldn’t believe it. Like everyone else, she had thought him dead, so seeing him here, now, risen from beyond the grave, as it were…well, it was quite a bit to handle.
Si Cwan’s brow furrowed, which was the only way in which his severe expression altered. Tiraud, for his part, looked as if he wanted to spring forward and knock Xyon on his ass. Robin supposed she couldn’t blame him, but hoped that Si Cwan would have the intelligence and forbearance to realize that violence was not the answer to anything.
Still, what it came down to was this: They’d found Xyon, but there’d been no sign of Kalinda. This was as disturbing to Robin as it was to anyone else. The question was: How was Si Cwan going to handle it?
Xyon made his way toward the throne, but when he was about halfway there, Si Cwan raised a hand preemptively. “Stop right there,” he snapped.
Responding instantly to the order, Xyon halted. He smiled wanly, inclining his head toward his bonds. “Worried I’m going to attack you with these on?” he asked.
“Even if you were unshackled, I wouldn’t be concerned about your attacking me,” Si Cwan informed him. “Your bonds are not to protect us from you. They’re to protect you from us.”
“Oh? How so?”
It was Fhermus who spoke up. “It would be in violation of Thallonian tradition for any member of a noble house to take the life of a bound prisoner. As long as your hands and feet are immobilized…”
“We won’t give in to the temptation to kill you where you stand,” Tiraud said.
Xyon nodded in mock respect toward him. “Your unbridled concern for my welfare is much appreciated. Where the hell is my ship?”
“You don’t get to ask questions of us!” Tiraud started toward him, but Si Cwan put up a hand and shook his head. Tiraud looked to his father, who nodded, indicating that he should attend to Si Cwan, at least for the time being. Reluctantly, Tiraud stepped back to where he’d been standing before.
“Your ship is on my private landing field just outside this building,” Si Cwan told him, “under heavy guard. It’s being scanned very carefully. So if you’re hoping that you can somehow slip out of here, get to your ship, and thus effect an escape…I assure you, the moment your life signs are detected on that vessel, it will be blown to scrap.” He stepped down off the throne and approached Xyon. “You see? That is how reasonable individuals operate. You ask them a question, they answer it. So I am certainly hoping that we can all count on one another to behave as rea
sonable individuals as matters progress. For instance, I expect that you will answer all questions given to you without impertinence.”
“No impertinence. Got it.” He thought a moment and then asked, “Can I be a bit saucy? How about that? Would that be out of line?”
Si Cwan’s fist moved so fast that Robin barely had time to register it was in motion. He drove it deep into Xyon’s stomach, doubling him over, driving all the air out of him and leaving him with only a strangled grunt. There were nods of approval from all around. Robin gasped, but managed to keep it to herself.
“Go right ahead,” said Si Cwan. “Be as ‘saucy’ as you wish.”
“Thanks…maybe later,” Xyon gasped. He tried to stand up straight and managed only to get to about halfway. From the onlookers, there came appreciative chuckles.
“Now then,” Si Cwan said, circling Xyon, who looked like he was having trouble staying on his feet, “the only reason you’re alive is because you said you would tell me, and only me, where my sister is.”
“Really. That’s the only reason I’m alive?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, that’s not much incentive for me to tell you, is it? Because once I’ve told you, then you can kill me.”
“Not until we have her back safely,” Tiraud said. Si Cwan glanced at him and nodded. Fhermus patted his son on the back.
“I see. And once you have her back safely…?”
“We may kill you or may not,” Si Cwan said. “That will depend entirely upon how cooperative you’re prepared to be. End this travesty here and now and tell us where she is, and you may indeed get out of here with your life. I cannot guarantee all your limbs will still be in working order…or even attached. Most likely one, maybe more, will be gone. But you will still have your miserable life. If you fail to cooperate, well,” and he shrugged indifferently, “I cannot be held responsible for the outcome.”
“How lucky for you,” Xyon said.
Again Si Cwan’s hand flew, this time a savage backhand that took Xyon across the face, knocking him off his feet. Xyon thudded to the floor, landing badly on his elbow. He moaned from the impact which no doubt sent fierce shooting pains up his arm.
Robin wanted to shout, Si Cwan, that’s enough!, but she kept quiet. She knew that Si Cwan was in a difficult situation, with the young Xyon openly defying him in front of the entirety of the Protectorate. He didn’t need a Starfleet representative—and his wife, to boot—trying to hold him back. Still, it took everything she had not to at least try to step in.
Xyon tried to roll himself to standing, but Si Cwan didn’t wait. “Problems? Allow me,” and he reached down and hauled Xyon to his feet as if the young Xenexian weighed nothing. “Well, Xyon? More smart remarks? More attitude? More quips in the face of danger you’d care to share with us? Or perhaps you would simply like to tell us where Kalinda is now.”
“I…” Xyon’s eyes were bleary for a moment and then they refocused. “I…don’t know. That’s the truth.”
“You don’t know.”
“Not a clue.”
Si Cwan pivoted and threw Xyon down to the floor. Xyon barely had time to cry out before Si Cwan was crouched over him upon the floor, his hand at Xyon’s throat.
“You must be in love with pain,” Si Cwan snarled down at him, his control beginning to slip.
“No. Just with your sister. But…they’re becoming…synonymous,” Xyon managed to gasp out.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
He tightened his grip on Xyon’s throat. Xyon gasped, trying to draw in air, not succeeding.
“Where is she?”
“Gods as my witness, I don’t know!”
“That’s ridiculous. How can you not know?”
“She was taken,” Xyon told him. “Another ship…came out of nowhere. I tried to run. They grabbed her away…some sort of transporter beam, like I’ve never seen. A ship like I’ve never seen.”
Si Cwan stared down at him for a moment, then looked back at the Nelkarites who had captured Xyon. “What is this ship he speaks of?” he demanded. “Did he tell you of it? Why did you not tell me before?”
The Nelkarite who appeared to be the most high ranking stepped forward, bowed respectfully, and then said, “He told us of it, yes, milord, but we said nothing since it was not worth informing you about. It was simply a pathetic lie to try and save his own neck.”
“How do you know that?”
“There was no sign of any ship in the area save his and ours, milord. No tachyon or ion signatures. No trace of warp coil emissions. No sign of any disturbances, and I assure you, we swept the area twice, very thoroughly. Furthermore, we checked his ship’s visual log. There was no record of any such vessel or its having pursued his own. He claims a ship absconded with Kalinda, but the facts do not support him.”
“I see.” He glared down at Xyon. “Then again, the facts supported the notion that he was dead, and yet here he is. Master of lies and duplicity. Perhaps, as far as your status is concerned, we should take pains to have the reality match the myth, eh?”
“Oh, don’t go to trouble on my account,” Xyon, still on the floor, said, and then he groaned as Si Cwan kicked him in the side.
“You are trying my patience, Xenexian!”
“And you…mine. But we…endure…”
He kicked him a second time, and a third, and this time Robin Lefler could contain herself no longer. “Si Cwan, wait!” she cried out.
“Oh…Miss Lefler,” Xyon managed to get out. “Good day…didn’t see you there…standing as you were…in Si Cwan’s long shadow…”
Si Cwan did not even bother to look Robin’s way. “Where is she?” he demanded, grabbing Xyon and hauling him to his feet. The only thing that was preventing Xyon from collapsing was Si Cwan’s grip on him. “Where?”
And suddenly Fhermus was at his side, and with a snarl of “You’re being too soft on him!” plunged a dagger directly into Xyon’s thigh.
Xyon let out a shriek of pain as, from all around, there was a suddenly surge of cheers from the onlookers. Robin was horrified at the bloodlust. It was like pulling back a curtain in time and watching ancient Romans bellowing for blood in the Coliseum.
Si Cwan continued to hold Xyon aloft as Fhermus twisted the blade that was lodged in Xyon’s leg. “Gods’ truth, I don’t know!” Xyon cried out, and there was a strangled sob in his voice. “I know what they said! I know the ship left no trace! But it was there! It was this…this great thing that looked like…like a floating molecule! And it took her away from me, and I want to find her as much as you do.”
“You lying dog!” Fhermus snarled. “You insult the House of Fhermus! You steal my son’s fiancée. And now you cravenly try to avoid facing the responsibility of your heinous actions!”
“All right, Fhermus,” Si Cwan said firmly, “you’ve made your point…literally, I might add. Remove your dagger.”
“He—”
“Remove it.”
With a reluctant growl, Fhermus yanked the blade out with such force that Robin could practically feel it from across the room. Blood was welling up from the wound. Si Cwan released Xyon at that moment. The prisoner made an effort to support his own weight, but between the pounding he’d sustained and the stab wound, it was simply impossible. Xyon collapsed in a heap, moaning softly.
Si Cwan started to draw back his foot to kick Xyon once more, and suddenly Robin was crossing the room, calling out “Ask me for help!” as she was doing so.
Not understanding why, but clearly in no shape to question, Xyon said, “Help…”
“Prime Minister,” Robin Lefler said, coming in between the startled Si Cwan and his target. “The prisoner has requested help of the United Federation of Planets. As the UFP’s duly deputized representative to the Thallonian Protectorate, I am honoring that request and taking him into my custody, pending—”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Si Cwan. “You can’t take hi
m into custody. He’s a prisoner of the Protectorate.”
“He is also a citizen of the United Federation of Planets. As such, he has the right to request aid and shelter from a UFP rep. That would be me, and I am honoring that request….”
“You pay attention to this woman,” one of the Boragi representatives called out, “only because she is your mate.”
“Perhaps you would prefer,” Robin shot back, “that he simply ignore me because he is my mate…as is the case, so I’m told, with how your mate views you.”
There was a raucous chorus of laughter in response to that, and the Boragi’s skin paled furiously.
Si Cwan was studying her as if she were some new type of bacteria. Finally he said, “Lieutenant Commander, I do not recognize your authority in this matter.”
“I suggest you do so, then,” Robin warned him, “unless you’re really interested in initiating an interstellar incident with the United Federation of Planets.”
“Bring them on!” shouted a Shubbite from the back of the room, and others chorused the challenge.
“I very much doubt,” Si Cwan said skeptically, “that the Federation is going to be willing to go to war over the fate of a lying, kidnapping freebooter….”
“Even if he’s the son of a Starfleet captain?”
“Even if.”
“And if the Starfleet captain chooses to go to war with you on his own?”
That brought Si Cwan up short.
“Why should we give a damn!” called out the Shubbite again. “Why, who’s he the son of?”
“Mackenzie Calhoun,” Robin informed them.
This brought a satisfying, deathly quiet to the room. The representatives looked around one at the other, and there was some uncomfortable clearing of throats.
“Calhoun the God?” one person asked.
“That is how he’s known on some worlds, yes,” Robin said.
There was more muttering this time, this time with far less enthusiasm than before.
“He is no god, I assure you,” Si Cwan said, but then admitted, “He is, however…formidable.”
