by Martyr(Lit)
"I do not think you truly do see," Selar pointed out, "considering the fact that you have entered my quarters, thereby precluding my being alone." She hesitated.
"If there is a matter that you wish to discuss, Lieutenant Commander, then kindly do so and be done with it."
"I was just interested in..." S/he cleared hir throat. "I just wanted to congratulate you."
"I see. And why would that be?"
"Because of you and the captain," Burgoyne said. S/he felt a little odd that s/he had to explain it to Selar. Didn't she know the details of her own affairs?
"It is my understanding that you and he are... involved."
"Very delicately put," Selar said with an ever-so-slight hint of surprise. "That is unusual, to say the least. You are not generally known for your delicacy.
Rather, bluntness seems to be your stock in trade."
"You seem to be someone who prefers delicacy. I just..." S/he seemed to have trouble phrasing what was on hir mind.
"You just what?" prodded Selar, curious in spite of herself to see where the conversation was going.
"I just wish you had been honest with me."
"Honest?" Selar was far too controlled or thoroughgoing a Vulcan to allow outright astonishment to creep onto her face. Nonetheless, her surprise was evident if one knew where to look. "I have not lied to you, Lieutenant
Commander."
"You asked me to leave you alone, without telling me why," Burgoyne said with ill-concealed annoy-
ance. "Had you simply informed me of your involvement with Captain Calhoun, I could have avoided potentially making a fool of myself. Instead I pursued you, spoke to you of gentle relations, told you that I felt we were destined to be together... and all that time, you had an understanding with the captain."
Selar could have corrected hir, of course. Her relationship with the captain was, after all, a fairly recent development. It had purely been Burgoyne's misinterpretation, a mistaken assumption that Selar and the captain were involved with one another at the time that Burgoyne was making advances upon
Selar.
Selar's discouragement of Burgoyne had had nothing whatsoever to do with the captain. She had simply found the Hermat so brazen, so aggressive, so over-the-top, that her gut reaction had been to keep Burgoyne at more than arm's length. And when Selar's position had softened, she had seen Burgoyne arm-in-arm with McHenry. At that point, Selar saw little reason to try and pursue Burgoyne in return. She did have her pride, after all. Something about her didn't want to give Burgoyne the opportunity to stand there with hir smirk and say, "Ah, now you want me." Nor did she want to feel like an also-ran to McHenry.
But Selar, who just wanted Burgoyne out of her quarters already, saw no reason not to take advantage of Burgoyne's perception. She had no desire to lie outright. It cut against her Vulcan grain. But she saw no harm in selective revelation of the truth. "We have an understanding, yes." "And may I ask what that understanding is?" She cocked an eyebrow. "You may ask. But no answer will be forthcoming, since I owe you no explanations and since it is none of your business."
"Had a feeling you'd say that," s/he said ruefully. "I suppose, on some level, I agree. But you and I, Selar, we operate on a different level."
"Lieutenant Commander, you operate on a different level," Selar replied tartly.
"I operate on the level of one who wishes to keep her private affairs private, despite all the best efforts of this ship's personnel to make it the business of the entire crew complement. I would ask you to respect that privacy."
"I do," sighed Burgoyne. "Believe it or not, I do." Burgoyne strode across the room to her and hunkered down opposite her. S/he smiled, displaying hir canines.
"Selar, believe it or not, I wish you all happiness."
"Do you," Selar said, her voice inflectionless.
"Yes, I do. I want the best for you, and if you feel the captain represents the best... well, truthfully, I'd be hard-pressed to disagree. He is quite a man.
And you are quite a woman."
"And you, Burgoyne," Selar said with attempted diplomacy, "are quite a..."
Then she hesitated and finished with a mental shrug, "A person."
"I appreciate that. And I want you to know something: I still feel a connection to you, even though you obviously do not share it."
I do. But you are completely wrong for me, went through Selar's mind unbidden.
Her face, however, remained inscrutable. "I do not..." She found it hard to say. She licked her lips, which were suddenly extremely dry, and continued, "I do not wish to cause you any pain."
Burgoyne waved off the notion. "Don't worry about that. I'm fairly resilient; takes a lot more than that to hurt me. But I want you to understand something."
S/he took one of Selar's hands in both of hir own. Hir long fingers intertwined with Selar's. "I will always feel the attachment to you, whether you want it or
not. Whether you like it or not. I will never do anything to cause you harm, and you will always be under my protection."
"I appreciate the sentiment that you-ow!" Selar was startled as she felt an abrupt prick of pain in the top of her hand. She pulled the hand away from
Burgoyne's grip to find a small bit of green blood welling up on the top. There was a minute scratch there, and Selar looked up at Burgoyne. Despite her Vulcan training, surprise registered on her face as she saw a trickle of green blood on
Burgoyne's fingernails. Selar had never really noticed before, but Burgoyne's nails were rather long, almost conical.
Burgoyne brought hir right hand up to hir face and daintily licked the blood off with hir tongue.
"What are you doing?" demanded Selar, rather put off by the entire business.
"Consecrating my promise to you," replied Burgoyne. The green liquid was already gone from hir right fingers. There was a small spot of the Vulcan's blood on
Burgoyne's left hand as well; Burgoyne brought that up to hir nose and passed it under, hir nostrils flaring slightly, and then s/he licked that clean as well.
"I hope I didn't startle you."
"To be blunt, you did. And I would prefer that you do not puncture, wound, or lacerate any other parts of my body unless you have been granted specific permission for that activity." She shook her head. "It is my desire to, at the very least, be able to tolerate you, Burgoyne. You are not making that simple, and such stunts as these do not endear you to me."
"They may someday," said Burgoyne, and then, with a lazy wink, s/he walked out of Selar's quarters, leaving the doctor shaking her head.
XI.
THE EXCITEMENT HAD SPREAD throughout Zondar as the Excalibur drew closer.
Statues were being erected to Him. However, since descriptions of Him varied tremendously, one statue would look very different from another. That really didn't matter, though. It was, truly, the thought that counted.
Festivals were held. Parades were staged. There was a general air of euphoria upon the entire world. And, most importantly of all, the Eenza and the Unglza did not launch into immediate battles whenever any members of the two groups happened to run into each other. The cease-fire was in force, of course, but that was only part of it. The cease-fire, after all, was imposed from above by the respective ruling bodies of the Eenza and the Unglza. The true desire to get on with one another, however, had to come from the people themselves. And that seemed to be exactly what was happening. The people seemed to be viewing each other with a new eye, as if trying to contemplate what it would be like to be able
to live side-by-side with their "enemies." And the speculation itself did not seem so intimidating once they were faced with the prospect. They began to envision a new age for Zondar, one in which they did not perpetually have to watch their backs against attacks from rival groups. An age where the Eenza and the Unglza would actually be able to work together, perhaps to develop something greater than either of them could accomplish on their own.
These possibilities were being disc
ussed in all sectors of Zondar, including in the home of Ramed. There, Talila bustled about with tremendous excitement as
Ramed watched her go about her business with a paternal sort of smile. "You are a one-woman hive of activity, Talila," he said, amusement in his voice.
She was unable to avoid saying what she had sworn she wouldn't say. "Am I going to meet Him, husband?"
"Him? You mean the Savior?"
"Is there any other 'Him' worth discussing these days on Zondar?" she asked reasonably, and he had to admit that she had a valid point. "At the convocation.
Am I going to meet Him?"
He paused a moment before answering, as if preparing to discuss something that he knew was going to be very unpleasant. "You will not be attending the convocation, my wife."
She gaped at him, not quite willing to believe what she had just heard. "I am not going to come with you? But... but I have already prepared-and Rab! I told Rab that he would be coming as well! Husband! You are one of the foremost speakers of the Eenza! It cannot be that you-"
"This is my decision, Talila," he said flatly. "I must be focused on the matter at hand. I cannot be distracted by-"
"Distracted!" She made no attempt to keep the bitterness from her voice. "After all these years together, after all my time as your helpmate, aiding you wherever and whenever I could... is that all I am to you in the final analysis? A distraction?"
"That is not how I meant to..." He sighed and put his hands on her shoulders, but she pulled away from him. He stood behind her, looking saddened. "My wife, there are things I must accomplish at the convocation. Difficult, involved matters. I must be able to devote myself solely to the work that must be done for the purpose of saving Zondar. I cannot act in the capacity as husband, as father. I simply cannot. Talila," he said, not without compassion, "you have trusted me all these years. Trust me in this. If you never trust me in any other matter again, trust me on this. I know what I am doing."
Slowly, with clear frustration, she nodded. Obedience to her husband was ingrained as to be second nature, so she found that he couldn't quite help herself. But she was not happy about it. "I feel," she said softly, "as if you are being selfish, Ramed. Or perhaps you are simply embarrassed to have me as a mate."
"Embarrassed!" he said in surprise.
"I am not as wise as you. Not as learned. Perhaps you are ashamed to have me meet the Savior of Zondar. You feel that I am not good enough, or will reflect poorly on you."
Again he took her by the shoulders to turn her around, and this time she did not resist. "Your assumption could not be farther from the truth," he said firmly.
"You must trust me on that as well. No Zondarian could be prouder of his mate than I."
He embraced her then, and she held him tight. And as he held her, he could not help but wonder if he was ever going to see her again.
The exact location of the convocation had been hotly debated, and had been solved in a rather unique manner. There had been no question that the convocation should be held in a temple, but naturally both the Unglza and the
Eenza were at odds over whose it should be. With time ticking down and no immediate consensus apparent, an intriguing idea was suggested and immediately adopted. A special temple would be built that would represent the first co-venture between the two groups. Contractors, architects, builders had all assembled their workforces and thrown the temple together in what was not only record time for Zondar, but possibly for the entire sector of space. It was nothing fancy; more utilitarian than anything else. There wasn't time to do something with a lot of flourishes. It was spherical to represent the entirety of the world of Zondar, and two large hands were intertwined on the front-one presumably Eenza, the other Unglza.
At the appointed time, as the Excalibur moved into orbit around Zondar, the assemblage began. Killick was there, as was Ramed, of course. From the eastern territories arrived the Clans of Sulimin the Planner, Arbora the Unseen, and
Freenaux the Undesirable (who showed up despite popular demand to the contrary).
From the northern plains came the offshoot group of the Unglza known only as the
Dissuaders, an arbitrarily negative group who intended to spend much-if not all-of the convocation trying to convince everyone else that they were wasting their time. From the western tropical region came Maro the Questioner, Quinzix the Unforgiving, Tulaman the Misbegotten, and Vonce of the Many Fortunes. All of them converged on the eastern territory where the Savior was to arrive.
The Zondarians were not entirely sure just how the
Savior was actually going to show up. There were rumors that He possessed transmat technology that far outstripped anything existing on Zondar. There were other rumors that He was, quite simply, a being of magic, who could come and go wherever and whenever He pleased. Walls were as nothing to Him, distances merely something to be traversed in an eye blink through force of will alone.
Nonetheless, to play it safe the Zondarians constructed the equivalent of a
"landing pad." It was festooned with decorations, flowers, and greetings of welcome sent from all over the world. As Zondarians of all sizes, shapes, and castes converged on the spot, there was a festive atmosphere. Everyone felt that they were present at the beginning of what was to be a new golden age for
Zondar.
The Excalibur had signaled down to the planet surface to let them know precisely when the Savior would be arriving, and they in turn indicated the precise spot that they desired Him to make His entrance. At the appointed time, Zondarians
(some of whom had been waiting from the previous day) packed in the area. They kept a respectful distance from the appointed landing place, but were crushed in so tightly that it was believed a Zondarian could drop dead in the midst of the crowd and still remain standing just by dint of the crush of bodies all around.
Unglza were pressed up against Eenza, and although the initial close contact prompted some grumbling, overall it was a fairly well-behaved throng, particularly considering that there had to be close to two thousand Zondarians crushed into an area that would have been better suited for half that number.
There was talking, there was chattering, there was singing, there was all manner of vocal discourse both
loud and soft, and then slowly, as the appointed time drew near, it all trailed off into silence. All over Zondar, people began to look to the sky. No one knew quite what to expect. Perhaps the mighty vessel of the Savior might descend from the sky. Perhaps the Savior Himself would appear on a raft made of purest spun clouds. No one knew for certain.
And at precisely the appointed time, the Zondar-ians who were fortunate enough or highly ranked enough to be on the actual spot of contact heard a humming in the air. They looked up, looked around to see if they could determine the source. It sounded vaguely like their own transmat booths, but the sound was far more focused.
And then there was a collective gasp as Mackenzie Calhoun materialized out of thin air, his body a haze of shimmering sparkles that quickly coalesced into a human body.
There were two others, one on either side of him. One of them was instantly recognizable to many in the crowd as Lord Si Cwan, formerly of the Thallon-ian
Empire. The other was a sight such as none on that world had ever seen. He was as wide across as any three Zondarians, and his skin was dark and leathery. He surveyed the crowd with eyes that were quite small, and yet seemed to take in everything.
And then a collective roar, a cheer, went up from the throat of the entire assemblage. The Savior's arrival had been simultaneously broadcast all through
Zondar, and around the world the cheer went up as well.
It was certainly a good day for a rally. There were almost no clouds in the sky, which seemed to sparkle blue with hints of purple slathered across it, as if a painter had designed it and decided to toss in just a
dollop of another color. The air was warm, even a little bit dry in his lungs.
At the forefront of the cro
wd were Killick and Ramed. They strode forward, bowing deeply in the presence of their Savior. They remained that way until
Calhoun finally said, "Up. You can get up now."
They rose fully. "Savior," said Killick, forgetting himself long enough to genuflect, however briefly. "You will be interested to know, I think, that the prophecies regarding your coming state, and I quote: 'He will come from air and return to air.' You see? You have already fulfilled that portion of the prophecy."
"I didn't come from air, technically," Calhoun said, sounding reasonable. "I came from my ship. The air was simply an environment-"
"Savior," and Killick smiled beatifically. "You must learn not to question yourself or your destiny. Self-doubt ill suits you. The Savior will be-is-a man of character and determination who will unite the world. There is no place in that destiny for uncertainty."
