by Martyr(Lit)
of the newcomers, and if they provided him with that opening, he would strike quickly and with finality.
Calhoun was staring at the Zondarians in disbelief. "I'm sorry, Killick, I didn't quite catch that, or even understand it. I am the what?"
"The Savior," repeated Killick, sounding extremely reasonable. "Our Savior. You are He. You are come. Just as was prophesied five hundred years ago." He looked to Ramed for verification, and Ramed nodded agreeably. "You see?" he said as if that constituted the final, rock-solid proof. "If there is something that even
Unglza and Eenza can agree upon, then it must be so."
"Far be it from me to dispute the indisputable," said Calhoun, "but may I ask how just how, precisely, you came to this conclusion? That I am your Savior?"
"Yes," Ramed nodded emphatically. "There can be no mistake."
"May I ask how you can be so sure?" Shelby inquired.
"It is in the lore of our greatest prophet, Ontear, and his greatest acolyte,
Suti," Ramed told them, and now it was Killick who was obediently bobbing his head in affirmation. "Ontear predicted your coming."
"Was the captain mentioned by name?" asked Soleta.
"Well... no," admitted Ramed.
"Well, then," Soleta continued, "unless this prophet said something to the effect that you should be on the lookout for a starship captain with a scar who will show up shortly after a giant flaming bird puts in an appearance, I'm afraid I don't quite see the logic in believing that Captain Calhoun is your anointed one."
Killick and Ramed looked at one another, and then Killick sighed. "You're the
Eenza; it's your right. Go ahead and say it."
Ramed slowly stood, and he seemed so consumed with excitement that he could barely keep his legs still. His fingers rested on the edge of the table as if he needed it for support. "'Look to the stars,' he intoned, 'for from there will come the Messiah! The bird of flame will signal His coming! He will bear a scar, and He will be a great leader! And He will unite our planet!"
"That was written by the great Ontear, on his last day upon our world, five hundred years ago," Killick informed them.
As one, the others turned and stared at Soleta. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "A lucky guess," she said in an offhand manner.
"It really says all that?" Calhoun asked in disbelief.
"They would not lie about the predictions of Ontear, Captain," Si Cwan said. "It is a subject they take most, most seriously. To even joke about such matters is the equivalent of consigning your soul to... well, whatever passes for oblivion in Zondarian theology."
"Is that specific enough for you, Captain?" asked Killick.
"I have to admit, it's a fairly impressive set of coincidences," Shelby agreed.
"Perhaps too many to be considered 'mere' coincidence, although I still don't rule out a more scientific explanation."
"Such as?" inquired Ramed politely.
"Lieutenant?" Shelby turned and looked hopefully at Soleta.
Soleta shrugged. "Nothing comes to mind," she said.
"Thanks for the help, Lieutenant."
"Not a problem, Commander."
Calhoun leaned forward, and there seemed to be mild amusement in his eyes. "All right. Just for the sake of argument, let's say I am your Savior."
"Which we are not saying, most emphatically,"
Shelby quickly put in. She looked to Calhoun for confirmation of that, and was a bit disconcerted when she didn't see it.
"As I said," he repeated calmly, "just for sake of argument. If that were the case, what would you expect of me?"
Killick glanced at Ramed, who nodded silently, and then turned back and said,
"It is our hope that you would come to Zondar. Your return has long been associated with peace among our people. Were you to come to our world, as a vehicle for peace, we know that they would listen. Both the Eenza and the Unglza are building up arms in preparation for a resurgence of the violence that has dominated our relationship for centuries. But leaders of both groups have agreed to set aside differences for the purpose of sitting at a negotiation table with the Savior Himself. Who, after all, could possibly turn down such an honor?"
"Who indeed?" Si Cwan affirmed. "Captain, in my opinion, it would be foolish of you to deny your obvious heritage. The beliefs of these good people should be-must be-honored."
"You are our Savior," Ramed said with quiet conviction. "Save us, anointed one.
Save us... from ourselves."
The Zondarians had returned to their ship, impressed by the power of the
Excalibur's transporter, and Kebron-the possible threat to security now gone-had returned to his post on the bridge. Calhoun was now meeting in privacy with the remaining officers. "It could, of course, be a hoax," Soleta pointed out. "The prophecies written only recently by those within an inner circle and then
'discovered' in order to fulfill recent events."
But Si Cwan was emphatically shaking his head. "No," he said flatly. "I spoke separately with them.
These writings go back half a millennium, as they said. There's no chance of forgery."
"You can't intend to go along with it, Captain," Shelby said.
Calhoun was scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Why not?"
"Why not?" She couldn't quite believe she had to spell it out. "Captain, you cannot go to these people and present yourself as their... their messiah!"
"Why?"
"Because it's a clear violation of the Prime Directive! You're interfering with the development of their society!"
"With all respect, Commander, I disagree," Si Cwan replied from across the table. "The captain has not inserted himself into their society. Their society has reached out to encompass him."
"Some men seek out greatness," Calhoun said sagely, "and others have greatness thrust upon them."
Shelby kept her voice level, endeavoring to explain that which, to her, seemed crystal clear. "Captain, you do not seem to be regarding this situation with the gravity that it quite clearly demands. To set yourself up as some sort of ruler for these people, even if they demand it-even if the title seems yours by some sort of prophetic right-it's against everything that the spirit of the Prime
Directive stands for."
"I'm not an idiot, Commander," Calhoun said, a bit more sharply than he might have intended to.
"I never meant to say, or imply, that you were, sir," Shelby replied stiffly.
"I know what you're concerned about. I know the regs. What I also know is that these people stand on the brink of almost certainly heading back into a civil war, now that the Thallonian Empire's influence has ceased."
"There is no 'almost' about it, Captain," Si Cwan affirmed. "The grudges are long-standing, the hatred beyond any rational discussion. They are not able to look beyond their squabbles and stereotypes of one another. But the one thing upon which they do agree, which cuts across all of their hatred, all of their hostility, is that their Savior will reunite them. Indeed, perhaps it's their conviction in that regard that has given them license to attack one another all these centuries. They believed that they were destined to do so. But now their
Savior is here."
"He's not here!" said Shelby firmly.
"What would you have me do, Commander?" asked Calhoun reasonably. "Go to the
Zondarians and say, 'Sorry, you've got the wrong guy. You're on your own.' And leave? Turn my back while men, women, and children are slaughtered?"
"No, of course not."
"You wouldn't want to take the Thallonian route, I presume. Go in and threaten them with force of arms? Cow them into submission?"
"That is also, obviously, not an acceptable alternative." She sighed. "Captain,
I want peace for these people, the same as anyone else. And aiding in peace negotiations is well within the mandate of our mission."
"If that's the case, then I think I have a simple solution," Calhoun said. "In fact, from the look in your eyes,
I suspect you have it, too."
"To neither confirm nor deny?" suggested Shelby.
"Precisely."
"I'm not quite following, Commander, Captain," admitted Si Cwan.
"I will not go to the Zondarians and put myself forward as being the fulfillment of their prophecies," Calhoun said. "By the same token, if they ask me, I will not deny it either. I will simply nod, smile, and
say something vague such as, 'Who am I to argue with prophecies?' I'm not going in there for the purpose of self-aggrandizement. I'm going in to try and convince a race that seems hellbound on destruction that there are better courses for them to follow. If they want to think of me as some sort of
'Savior,' let them. Let them think I'm God from on high. Let them think I'm
J'e'n't, the Three-Headed Xenexian God of Lightning, for all I care. As long as it gets them seated across from each other at a negotiation table, talking with one another, then my job is done."
"The end justifies the means," commented Soleta.
"Of course it does. Always," Calhoun readily agreed.
"Captain," Shelby said cautiously, "I know that your motives are pure and well intentioned. And I agree that this seems to be the most expeditious manner in which to proceed. But expediency doesn't always equal wise. We have to tread very, very carefully. We're walking a fine line here between right and wrong, both from a Starfleet standpoint, and the standpoint of morality."
"I know that I can count on you, Elizabeth, to keep me on that straight and narrow line and warn me lest I fall off."
She smiled wanly. "I'll certainly do my best, Captain."
The door to the conference lounge slid open, and Doctor Selar entered. "Captain, you wished to see me?" she asked.
"Uhm... yes. I believe we're done here, then?" There were nods of affirmation from all around. "Commander, kindly inform the Zondarians that we will indeed proceed directly to their homeworld, there to meet with their senior advisors to try and map out some sort of permanent peace between the Eenza and
the Unglza. Have Mister McHenry bring us there at warp two. That'll give them some time to build up anticipation over our arrival. Lieutenant Soleta, work with Ambassador Si Cwan, if you will, and dig up any other information you can on this reputed Savior of theirs. Anything I can use to my advantage to pull this off will be of great help. All right, people," and he clapped his hands briskly. "This all sounds like a plan."
Everyone filed out, Shelby the last, and she hesitated just a moment as she passed Selar. A significant look passed between them, one that was not lost on
Soleta, who was very aware of the mating urges that Selar was dealing with.
She'd heard the rumors flying around the ship regarding the captain and Selar, and had known what aspects to dismiss-also which aspects to take seriously.
There was something else going on, however; some sort of odd dynamic between
Selar and Shelby that Soleta could not quite understand. Feeling a need to come somehow to the aid of her fellow Vulcan, Soleta-who was already out in the hallway-said questioningly, "Commander?"
"Yes. Coming," said Shelby, shaken from the spell that had momentarily distracted her. She walked out behind Soleta as the door slid shut behind her, leaving Selar and Calhoun alone in the conference lounge.
Selar waited expectantly.
"I've given the matter a good deal of thought," Calhoun said.
"You mean the matter of having sex with me."
He wanted to say, No, the matter of whether or not there is a God, but he wisely decided that that would not be the best course. "That's correct. I've consulted
Starfleet regs on the matter, and they seem rather vague on how to proceed in this instance."
"Since this is a condition that we generally like to keep to ourselves, even though others may tend to broadcast word of it"-and she glanced with a clearly annoyed manner in the direction of the departed Shelby-"it does not surprise me that it would not thoroughly be covered in literature."
"Be that as it may, it seems to me that the wisest course might be to say no, simply to avoid the possible entanglements such an encounter might engender.
Besides, there may be other possibilities. Have you considered the option,
Doctor, of simply returning to Vulcan? Of finding a mate there? I could arrange for transport."
"I am very aware of that, Captain," replied Selar evenly. She looked down at the toes of her boots, and for the first time she actually looked vulnerable to
Calhoun. Even a little scared, although he was quite sure that she would never admit to it. "Captain, I find the entire concept of Pon Fan to be most onerous.
My duties as chief medical officer of the Excalibur, on the other hand, give me great satisfaction. It does not seem proper or just to me that I must dispense with the latter in order to accommodate the former. Furthermore, I-"
She hesitated. He thought of prompting her, but he knew that she would tell him in her own time.
"I... have no one on Vulcan, sir. No one I would be... comfortable with."
"Comfortable? Doctor, the bottom line is you hardly know me, and vice versa."
She returned his gaze, and it seemed to him as if she were dissecting him with her eyes. "You are a good man, Captain. A proud man. Clever, inventive. I have not known many men whom I would classify as heroic, but you would certainly fall into that category. I would be," she began, and it seemed to him-although he might have been imagining it-that she
had to make the slightest effort to keep her chin from trembling. "I would be most proud if you were to sire my child."
Calhoun smiled, actually feeling embarrassed, although he'd believed that couldn't possibly be the case. He felt his head nodding even before he said anything. "All right, Doctor. If that's what you want, I'll accommodate you."
"Thank you, Captain," she said with clear relief.
They were standing about a foot away from each other, and the moment seemed to call for some sort of physical contact. They each moved their hands in a vague manner, and Calhoun even thought to hug her except he felt that it would be wrong somehow. They settled for a brisk handshake.
"So, judging by the fact that you're not knocking me onto the conference lounge table, I can take that to mean that you're still in 'remission,' as it were," he said.
She nodded. 'Yes, that is correct. However, the mating urge will resurface, probably within the next week. I will inform you when I will need you. I will endeavor to time it at a point where your duties and requirements are minimal."
"I appreciate your consideration for my schedule."
"It's more than that, sir. You see, as I go more deeply into Pon Fan, I will..
. link with you, psychically. You will become as driven by the impulse to mate as I am. You will be consumed by, and be able to think of nothing else but, sex."
"Sounds like fairly typical male behavior," Calhoun observed. Then he grinned at the seriousness on her face. "It was a joke, Doctor."
"Ah. I see. Humor is a difficult concept."
They stood there for a moment, uncertain what else to say.
"Captain."
"Yes, Doctor?"
"If you would like, you may call me Selar."
He nodded appreciatively. "And you may call me Mac, if you wish."
She seemed to roll the name around in her mouth for a moment, and then she said,
"If you will not be insulted, I think I would prefer 'Captain.'"
"As you wish, Selar."
"Thank you, Captain."
VII.
THE HIGH PRIEST OF ALPHA CARINAE did not like what he was hearing.
The Alphans were relatively recent converts to Xantism. They were a somewhat barbaric race, really. Large, muscled, fairly savage of mien, yet living with a rather healthy fear of the Redeemers, which was naturally how the High Priest preferred matters.
Different High Priests handled their positions of power in different manners.
High Priests on some o
ther worlds, for instance, chose to keep themselves in seclusion, learning of the world through various "eyes" and "ears" among the populace who were loyal to the way of Xant. But the High Priest of Alpha Carinae was far too outgoing an individual to stay hidden away somewhere. He insisted upon moving among the populace, to hear their words with his own ears. To know what they were thinking, to look into their eyes and see whether their love and belief in Xant was sincere.
