by Martyr(Lit)
The High Priest was becoming concerned.
It seemed to him that the Alphans were not looking at him in the same, comforting manner of fear that usually possessed them. Usually, if there was a crowd of Alphans, they would part to make way for him. Recently, however, they'd been slower to do so. Not only that, but when they did get out of his way, they made a major show of doing so as if to draw attention to themselves, as if to make mockery of the High Priest.
And as he walked away, if he strained his ears he could hear muttering. Hear the name of the Redeemers mentioned with what sounded like contempt, and other names murmured as well. Names he had heard bandied about with greater and greater frequency these days. Names such as "Calhoun" and "Excal-ibur. "The names, in and of themselves, did not mean a great deal to him. But it was enough to cause a stirring of concern in the pit of his stomach.
He did not yet consider himself to be in any sort of danger. The person of a
High Priest of the Redeemers was sacrosanct, and he was certain that none of the
Alphans would be foolish enough to transgress in that respect. They knew the consequences. At least, he thought they knew the consequences.
However, he needed to find out more for himself. So, during one of his daily perambulations, he chose at random a cluster of Alphans standing at a street-corner, talking and arguing with what seemed to be tremendous enthusiasm.
Something had them rather worked up, and the High Priest reasoned that only two things could get a group of young males quite that excited: sex, or a stimulating religious discussion.
Slowly the High Priest moved toward them. One of the young males had his back to him and so didn't see him approaching. The others' discussion and chatter
quickly trailed off as they spotted him coming, and the one whose back was to the High Priest slowly trailed off, looking and sounding rather puzzled until he turned around and saw the High Priest standing directly behind him.
"Saulcram, isn't it?" asked the High Priest. He tapped the young man's chest with his staff.
Saulcram nodded fretfully. The others began to back up as if conspiring to make a getaway, but the High Priest froze them with a glance. He slowly turned his attention back to the first young man. "I would be interested to know that which you are discussing, Saulcram."
"It's nothing, my lord," Saulcram said nervously.
"If it is nothing, then it is of such little consequence that you should not hesitate to tell me what it is. Correct?" He made it sound so pleasant, so simple. He prodded Saulcram under the chin less than gently with his staff. "Now you will tell me, yes?"
Saulcram looked to his friends, and then back to the High Priest. "We're just.
.. just discussing, well... what everyone is discussing."
"Odd," said the High Priest. "I don't recall discussing it. Why don't you share that which apparently should already be common knowledge, hmm?"
"Well, it's... it's about... you know... the Second Coming."
"The Second Coming." The High Priest nodded approvingly. "You refer, of course, to the Second Coming of Xant."
"Yes. Yes, that's it exactly. Can I go now?"
The end of the staff had a curve to it. The High Priest twisted it slightly so that the curve snagged Saulcram's upper forearm, keeping him serenely in place.
"Well, I find this a bit odd, Saulcram," the High Priest told him. "If that was indeed all you were
talking about-the Second Coming of Xant-then why did you hesitate to tell me?
Why were you so nervous? Why are you so nervous still?"
"I... I swear, I don't-"
The High Priest suddenly gripped his staff with both hands and twisted quickly.
The abrupt sharp turn of the hooked end bent down and back against the arm, and there was a very audible snap. Saulcram went down, clutching at his broken arm, and there were tears already starting to well up in his eyes.
The others surrounding the High Priest took an angry step forward, and once again the High Priest glared around at them in that forceful way he had. It was a look that was usually capable of thoroughly intimidating the Alphans. This time, the High Priest made a mental note that the Alphans did not appear intimidated at all. Hesitant, yes. Unsure of whether to make a move or not. But it seemed no longer that they would hesitate to attack. Rather, it appeared that they were simply waiting for the right time, although no one seemed to know precisely when that was going to be.
Other passersby were stopping to observe the altercation. A crowd was beginning to grow, and it was not something the High Priest could particularly say he liked. He raised his voice and called out, "The person of a High Priest is sacrosanct! Do not forget that! Let none of you forget that! For to injure or kill a High Priest is to spell swift and immediate doom for your entire world!
Know that!"
And from somewhere in the crowd, he heard a voice call out. And the voice said,
"Excalibur is coming!"
"Excalibur," he murmured in confusion and annoyance.
"Excalibur, the force of freedom, chosen of the flame bird!" someone shouted.
A third person called out, "The liberator is coming! They will destroy you, and the Redeemers, and even your precious Xant will not be able to stand before them!"
Still another person shouted out, "Calhoun! Cal-houn!"
The crowd began to take up the chant, repeating it over and over: "Calhoun!
Calhoun! Calhoun!"
The High Priest had no idea what was going on, but he knew he did not like it.
Not in the least.
He stepped back away from Saulcram and his friends. Caught up in the defiance of the crowd, even Saulcram and those with him were calling out "Calhoun! Calhoun!"
The High Priest, maintaining as much of his dignity as possible under the circumstances, made his way back to the Alpha Carinae Central Hall of Worship.
Even though things seemed calmer once he put some distance between himself and the impromptu rally, he couldn't help but feel that all eyes were upon him. He kept feeling that someone would launch himself from the shadows of a nearby building. Anything from a harsh word to a projectile might have come flying his way at any moment. As it happened, however, his return to his base occurred without incident. And so it was that-with his skin intact, albeit it with nerves somewhat strung out-the High Priest was putting through a transmission to Tulaan
IV as fast as possible.
Moments later he was speaking directly with Prime One, the Overlord's good right arm. At first he had been concerned that Prime One might be upset in response to what should have been a minor problem, but instead Prime One seemed amused by it all. "I know whereof the Alphans speak, Brother," Prime One said calmly. "We know well of this 'flame bird' that was mentioned. You will be most pleased to
know that the Overlord had officially declared it to be a sign."
"A sign," the High Priest repeated uncomprehend-ingly.
"A sign that Xant will be returning," Prime One said with a touch of impatience.
He outlined the specifics of the flame bird's appearance in as broad strokes as he could, and then concluded, "This is not a time of concern, Brother. This is a time of rejoicing!"
"Rejoicing is a luxury in which you can indulge yourself, Prime One," replied the High Priest. "But the people of Alpha Carinae do not seem to necessarily share your conviction that this is a precursor to the return of Xant. They seem perfectly inclined to attribute some other cause to it."
"Other?" The thought literally had not even occurred to the Prime One. "What other could there possibly be?"
"This 'Excalibur' they mentioned. And another name... Calhoun."
"Yes, we are aware of both of these," said Prime One. "Excalibur is a Federation vessel, Calhoun its captain. They were merely on the site when the bird signaled the return of Xant. They have nothing to do with the creature's existence, nor with the return of Xant."
"That may very well be," the High Priest informed him, "bu
t the Alphans seem to feel otherwise. They believe in some sort of link. That, rather than signaling a return by Xant, the circumstances surrounding the creature's appearance is an endorsement of, or a precursor to, the one they call Calhoun. They seem to regard him as some sort of... of liberator."
"Liberator?" Prime One was thunderstruck. "Liberation from the word of Xant?
From the spirit of
Xant? Who in their right mind would desire to be" liberated from that?"
"The Alphans apparently, sir. They have no comprehension or appreciation of all that we try to do for them."
"I will inform the Overlord of this situation," Prime One said after a moment's thought. "He will want to know of the wrongheadedness in many which surrounds this clear signal of Xant's return. He may very well want to address Alpha
Carinae... and perhaps even other worlds which may be laboring under similar delusions. Thank you for informing me of the situation there, Brother."
"It was my honor as always, Prime One."
"May Xant light your way."
"Yours as well, Prime One."
Prime One's image blinked off the screen, leaving the High Priest to gaze out the windows at the populace below him. It was a populace amongst whom he had never hesitated to walk, but now something told him that he would be most well advised to stay exactly where he was. That perhaps now was not the time to spread the good word and tidings of Xant among the Alphans.
Because somehow, he had the feeling-a feeling that, as it turned out, was a correct one-that the last thing the Alphans were interested in doing at that particular moment in time was listening.
VIII.
SELAR WAS SEATED BY HERSELF in the team room, which was how she was customarily seated. She was carefully nursing a glass of Synthehol when she looked up to see
Burgoyne 172 staring down at her.
"Somehow, Lieutenant Commander," Selar said slowly, "I suspected that we would be chatting in the near future."
"Really," Burgoyne said. "So you're saying there's something you want to talk to me about?"
"Not in particular, no," replied Selar. "However, it was my suspicion that you would desire to talk to me."
"Well, now aren't we full of ourselves," said Bur goyne, and Selar could see from the slightest waver in Burgoyne's bearings that s/he had already had a bit to drink. Selar was well aware (since Burgoyne had boasted of it on more than one occasion) that s/he had a fairly impressive collection of scotch back in hir quarters, a drink s/he had apparently developed a
taste for while imbibing with a former engineer from another ship.
"Would you care to sit down, Lieutenant Commander," said Selar, "before you fall down?"
"Why don't you ask me to sit?" Burgoyne demanded.
For the briefest of moments, Selar doubted her sanity. Was it possible, she wondered, that the semi-delusional state resulting from heightened Pon Fan was enough to cause her to lose track completely of time or a discussion? Hadn't she just asked-
She shrugged mentally. It hardly seemed worth a dispute. "Why do you not sit down?" she inquired.
"Thank you," said Burgoyne, dropping down into a chair next to Selar. Burgoyne was leaning so far over toward Selar's side that she had to slide over a bit so as not to wind up with Burgoyne in her lap. That was a situation that certainly would not have been off-putting to Burgoyne, but was not something that Selar desired to explore at this particular moment in time.
"How may I be of service, Chief Engineer?"
"For starters, you can call me Burgoyne. Or Burgy. Most fother olks do."
It took the Vulcan a mere moment to realize that Burgoyne had meant to say
"other folks," and somehow the letters seemed to have gotten away from hir, to say nothing of each other. Although the familiarity was uncomfortable to her, she opted to accede to hir requests rather than risk a protracted conversation.
"Very well, Burgoyne. How can I help you?"
"Well, I thought that I could have helped you," said Burgoyne. S/he didn't seem particularly happy at the moment. "But I must have looked pretty foolish, huh?
There I was, letting you know I was interested. Talking about how good we could be together. And it turns out you already have something going on. With the captain, no less."
"My involvement with the captain-whatever that may or may not be-is no concern of yours, Bur-goyne. If you must know, I..."
Burgoyne looked up at her, hir eyes looking slightly bloodshot. "Yes?"
It was at that moment that Selar almost blurted all of it out. Not just the needs of Pon Fan, but the fact that she did indeed find Burgoyne attractive.
Despite hir over-the-top approach, despite all of hir aggressive and devil-may-care theatrics-or perhaps because of them-Selar had slowly come to consider Burgoyne very desirable. So much so that she had been ready to give herself over to Burgoyne during one of the more aggressive flare-ups of her condition. But she had seen Burgoyne with Mark McHenry at the time. There had been something about the cavalier, casual way in which Burgoyne had managed to toss aside Selar and move on to someone else-of another gender, yet!-that had prompted Selar to back off from the Hermat. Had prompted her to look elsewhere for a suitable mate, one who might be just a bit more stable.
"If you must know," repeated Selar, "I find the captain... most attractive."
"Good for you!" said Burgoyne. S/he slapped hir hands together in loud applause, drawing looks of casual confusion from other officers sitting nearby. Selar quickly reached over, put her hands on top of Burgoyne's, and pushed them down to the table top.
Burgoyne's tapered fingers wrapped around Selar's for just a moment, holding them, and Selar felt a jolt of electricity between the two of them. It was insane. What the devil was it about the Hermat that caused hir to have this sort of effect upon Selar? Selar didn't know, and it was perhaps that very ignorance that she found the most off-putting. The captain she found suitable for a variety of intellectual reasons. That was
something she could grasp. Burgoyne as a choice was totally and utterly illogical, and there was absolutely no reason in the galaxy for Selar to pursue such a relationship. None.
"I mean it," and Burgoyne sounded less blustering, more sincere. "Truly, I mean it. I want you to be happy, Selar. And if the captain is what you want, and if he's what will make you happy, then I would be the last person to stand in your way. I mean that. I value relationships too thoroughly to get between the two of you."
"I... appreciate that, Burgoyne. I do."
"Well, good." Burgoyne had still not released Selar's hand. And then s/he looked up at Selar with a look of mischief on hir face. "Threesome?"
"I... beg your pardon?" asked Selar.
"Well, I was simply curious, that's all," Burgoyne told her. "Have you ever tried a threesome?"
"I am not certain what it is you are referring to."
"I mean three people. Having sex. At the same time."
Selar stared at hir. "With whom?"
"With each other!" laughed Burgoyne. "I mean, I don't know the captain apparently as well as you do. But if that's something the two of you would be interested in exploring..."
"Three... together... simultaneously..."
"Yes, that's the general-"
"Burgoyne, that is not sex. That is a committee."
"Well, only if you start taking votes and things..."
"Burgoyne," and Selar began to rise from her chair, "I do not know how things are done on your world-"
"I have a book. With illustrations and footnotes."
"Keep it. We are... we are too different, that is all. I do not know why I even considered-"
"Considered?" The moment she'd mentioned the
word, Selar wished that she could have the sentence to say over again. But that wasn't possible, for Burgoyne had quickly picked up on the slip. "Considered what? Me? You and I? Us?"
"No," Selar said flatly. "I was going to say, I do not know why I even considered the possibility of talking
to you simply as one individual to another. You are-"
"Dashing? Charming? Wonderfully open?"
"I believe 'insane' is the word I was searching for.'
"I'll take that as a compliment. Insane, as in crazy about you."
"Burgoyne, you are intoxicated. It is prompting you to say things that you would not ordinarily say, which is, in and of itself, surprising to me, for you have rarely shown any restraint before in saying whatever comes to mind. But I believe you have set a new standard for yourself with this conversation."
