Star Trek - NF - 05 - Martyr

by Martyr(Lit)

  I am complete. I am the embodiment of the sexual union. All strength, all power derives from that union."

  "That's ridiculous."

  "Is it? No single act is more powerful. A merging of body, and of spirit. A sharing of all aspects of what you are. A uniting of purpose. The creation of new life, and the reaffirmation of one's own. A letting down of shields and barriers in the pursuit of that one, pure, undiluted moment of ecstasy. The most powerful symbol in nature, and my people are a living embodiment of that symbol.

  Great power is drawn from that. A strength that you, with your enslavement to the scribblings of others, cannot possibly stand up to. Ultimately your faith will fail you."

  "My faith is complete unto itself," Ramed said, his anger building. He swept the spear back and forth in an arc, and it whistled through the air. Burgoyne approached cautiously, aware that Ramed seemed rather adept with the weapon.

  Clearly, he'd been practicing with it. "Don't think to challenge me on the strength of faith, because you will surely lose."

  "You've already lost," retorted Burgoyne. "I have faith that I will win. Faith drawn from my unity and holy purpose, my quest that I know I will fulfill. You.

  .. you have no faith at all. I can tell. I can smell it on you. I can smell the fear radiating off you, oozing through every pore. The fear, the uncertainty.

  You don't believe in what you're doing. You act out of some misbegotten sense of obligation. But you don't have the stomach to kill. To do what must be done."

  "You know nothing! I am a good man! A decent man! And I can kill if I have to!"

  And Burgoyne laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. S/he tossed back hir head and a contemptuous snicker erupted from hir throat. "You idiot," s/he told him.

  "You're not fooling anyone, least of all me."

  "I can kill him! I can do what needs to be done!"

  "Oh, can you?"

  And slowly Burgoyne stood. It took effort, for hir instinct was still to pounce.

  S/he stood there for a moment, and then gestured. "Come on. Do it. You have that pointed stick of yours. Test yourself out on me. Kill me."

  Ramed stood there, the spear wavering uncertainly. "This is-what do you think you're-"

  "One of us here isn't afraid, and I guarantee you that it's not you. Take a shot. Go ahead. I won't stop you. Stab me. Stab me to the heart. Here. I'll make it easy for you." Burgoyne tapped the area directly between hir small breasts.

  "Right here. That's all you have to do. Strike right here. I'll offer no defense." S/he closed hir eyes, hir arms comfortably at hir sides. "Go ahead.

  Practice on me. Am I not an easy enough target for you?"

  "Why... why are you doing this?" demanded Ramed.

  "Because I have faith that I will win. That my gods will help me. That you do not have what it takes to be a stone cold murderer. That you lack the conviction of your beliefs. Well? Make your move, Ramed. I haven't got all night. Do what you need to do... presuming you can do it."

  S/he said nothing more, merely stood there, hir eyes serenely closed, hir entire body posture relaxed. Clearly s/he did not believe for a moment that he would try to kill hir.

  He gripped the spear with both hands, holding it as tightly as he could. This was his whole life, he realized. His entire existence, boiling down to this moment. He had to do something about hir. If he simply tried to turn and run back into the cave, s/he would surely pounce on him and bring him down. His only chance was to fight. And why shouldn't he? Was

  he such a coward that he could only kill a helpless victim, tied up?

  What had he become? In the final analysis, what had he become? A coward? A murderer, but one unable to commit a simple murder?

  In his mind's eye, he saw his wife and child. He saw the faces of Zondarians everywhere, depending upon him to do what had to be done, and he felt his faith beginning to waver. Here, at the final hour, at the moment for which he had prepared his entire life-a moment that his ancestors had prepared for-his nerve was starting to fail him. All thanks to this... this creature who stood before him, so contemptuous, so convinced that he did not have the necessary inner strength to do what had to be done.

  He would show them. He would show them all.

  In the name of eternal peace on Zondar, in the name of the Savior, who had to become a martyr if there was going to be an end to warfare, Ramed would find the inner strength. He would cling to the right-ness of his actions. He would do the job that needed doing.

  And gripping the spear-the spear of justice-he charged forward, driving the point straight toward Burgoyne's breast.

  XIX.

  THE Excalibur barreled toward the Redeemer vessel, shields on maximum, all weapons fully targeting the ship.

  Si Cwan had just finished, in as expeditious a manner as he could, describing for Shelby exactly who the Redeemers were and what their problem was with the

  Excalibur. Shelby nodded repeatedly, seeming to take it all in, and then she ordered, "Lay down a phaser barrage. Let's see what their shields have."

  The phasers of the Excalibur lashed out, pounding the Redeemer ship. The opposing vessel twisted away, backing off as the starship drove toward it, firing relentlessly.

  Shelby pounded the arm of her chair. "Yes! Yes!" she crowed, drawing looks from everyone on the bridge. "Damage report! Did we hurt them?"

  "Not to any measurable degree," reported Boya-jian. "Their shields seem unimpaired. Commander, they're firing."

  The Redeemers' phaser weapons blasted at the

  Excalibur, targeting the engineering and saucer sections. The ship trembled under the pounding as, throughout the vessel, crewmen who weren't belted in to their stations tumbled to the floor.

  "Shields at seventy percent and holding!" said Boyajian. "Whatever they've got, it packs more wallop than our phasers do! They're not as maneuverable as we are, but with that kind of shielding and weaponry, they don't have to be."

  "Damage reports coming in from all over the ship," Lefler informed her. "Life support Systems out on Deck fourteen. Rerouting power now to restore systems."

  "Fire photon torpedo spread and phaser barrage. Double-barrel," Shelby said grimly.

  The Redeemer ship didn't budge, didn't even engage in any sort of evasive action, as the starship fired upon them. Their shields sparked under the assault, but otherwise held firm.

  "We're not getting through their shields, Commander," Boyajian said. "Still no appreciable damage."

  "They're firing again!"

  "Evasive maneuvers!"

  McHenry tried his best, but the Excalibur was slowed by the damage she'd sustained. He avoided two blasts, but a third struck at the upper right nacelle.

  "Shields at forty percent and falling!" Boyajian warned. "We cannot sustain another direct hit!"

  "Mister McHenry, bring us around at one-four-two mark three. Concentrate all remaining shield power to the rear deflectors. Get us out of here. Full impulse."

  "We're running, sir?" McHenry asked.

  "Simply changing strategy." She rose and said, "Engineering. I want a full-power magnetic burst

  channeled through the deflector array, on my order. Then prepare to give me warp power, and we're going to need it fast."

  "Acknowledged," came Torelli's voice from engineering, although clearly he didn't understand the reason for the order.

  Nor did McHenry. However, he was aware of another situation, which he felt was necessary to bring to Shelby's immediate attention. "Commander," he said. "The course you've ordered... it has us on a collision course with the Zondarian sun in just under two minutes."

  "I'm fully aware of that."

  This pronouncement brought concerned looks from everyone on the bridge, and someone would have said something to Shelby had they not received an incoming hail from the Redeemer ship. "Federation vessel," came the voice of Prime One.

  "Stand down and surrender. Throwing your vessel into a star will accomplish nothing."

  . "We'll be
just fine, thanks," Shelby shot back, her voice rising, "because the great god Calhoun will protect us! And Calhoun can wipe up the floor with your god any day of the week! Catch us if you can, you posturing fool! Excalibur out!"

  A stunned Boyajian cut off the signal as Soleta and Si Cwan stepped forward.

  "Commander," Soleta said slowly, "is it possible that you released yourself from sickbay too early?"

  "This is erratic behavior, at best-" began Si Cwan.

  "I didn't ask for your opinion, Ambassador. If you've nothing to contribute of substance, then get the hell off my bridge. Lieutenant, are you challenging my authority?"

  Soleta looked long and hard into Shelby's eyes. She felt as if the entire crew were looking to her, waiting

  on her judgment. She tried to see some indication of whether Shelby was operating in some sort of diminished capacity, or whether she truly had a plan.

  She saw craft and cunning and even a sort of demented anticipation in Shelby's eyes. And there seemed to be nothing of unsteadiness about her.

  "No, sir," said Soleta.

  "One minute, thirty seconds to Zondarian sun, commander," McHenry said. He was trying to put his worries aside as he saw the star dead ahead, apparently waiting for them.

  The ship trembled once more under a blast from the Redeemer ship, but it was a glancing blow, and with all power to their rear shields, they were able to sustain it with minimum problems. The Excalibur did not slow down as it tore through space, heading straight on what appeared to be a suicidal course.

  "One minute to sun," McHenry told her. The ship, shields down in the front, was beginning to feel the heat. "The Redeemer vessel is still in pursuit."

  "Of course they are. It's a matter of pride now. They have to show that their god will protect them as well as ours will. When dealing with fanatics, count on their fanaticism," Shelby said.

  "Fifty seconds to sun... forty, Commander." Mo Henry, to his credit, didn't sound nervous. He seemed resigned, even interested in what it would feel like to plunge into a star.

  "Give me a countdown, McHenry. Bridge to engineering, ready on deflector dish."

  Sweat was pouring down the faces of everyone on the bridge, except for Soleta, who handled the heat better than most. The sun was now completely filling the screen, which had automatically dimmed to spare viewers the intensity of the light.

  "Thirty... twenty-nine... twenty-eight... twenty-seven..."

  Shelby seemed to be counting down with him, making rapid-fire calculations in her head, her lips-moving soundlessly as if she were talking to herself. The bridge crew gripped their seats, bracing themselves, wondering what in the world they were about to die for.

  "Redeemer ship?"

  "Two hundred thousand kilometers and closing."

  "Maybe they want to be able to kiss us good-bye," Lefler guessed.

  "Twenty-one... twenty... nineteen... eighteen..."

  The star was everywhere. The heat was overwhelming.

  And as if shot from a cannon, Shelby leaped to her feet and shouted,

  "Engineering! Full magnetic burst, on my mark, five seconds' duration! McHenry, same mark minus five, forty five degree down angle, full reverse thrust!

  Mark-now!"

  The deflector dish flared to life, driving a full bore magnetic burst straight into the corona of the Zondarian sun. It struck the corona, disrupting the magnetic lines of the star's turbulent surface. Like a vast giant being stung by a hornet, the star slapped back at the irritation...

  In the form of a gigantic solar flare.

  The Excalibur screamed into reverse, the ship's structure howling in protest over the abrupt change in direction, pulling against the gravity of the sun that was already starting to take hold of them. For a moment that stretched into infinity, it looked as if they would not be able to break free, and then the starship tore loose of the star's magnetic field and slammed backward and down, away from the sun. The Redeemer ship was not quite as fortunate. Unable to turn or handle as deftly as the Excalibur, the Redeemers couldn't get out of the way in time.

  The last thing they saw was the solar flare belching up at them from the sun's surface, and then the spectacularly erupting discharge, leaping five hundred thousand kilometers from the star and pumping heat approximately twice as hot as the surface of the sun, enveloped the Redeemer vessel. Even the formidable shielding of the Redeemer vessel was unable to stand up to an all-encompassing flare in excess of twenty thousand degrees Fahrenheit. The Redeemer ship was immediately obliterated as the Excalibur frantically put as much distance between herself and the momentarily angered star as it could. The flare continued, as if pursuing them, as the starship hurtled backward, but the flare topped out at sixty hundred and fifty thousand kilometers. It continued to erupt for another fifteen minutes, but by that point the starship was safely out of range.

  Shelby was on her feet, her fists above her head in triumph. "Hah!" she crowed.

  "Spectacular! Engineering, great job! You too, McHenry! Excellent all around!

  Oh! Look!" She pointed to midair.

  "Look at what, sir?"

  "The colors!" Shelby called out excitedly-and then she pitched forward, Si Cwan just barely catching her before she hit the floor.

  XX.

  BURGOYNE STOOD THERE, chest bared, eyes closed, a look of serene peace on hir face, as Ramed lunged forward with his spear at hir unprotected breast.

  The point slammed toward hir-and stopped two inches from impact.

  It did not do so at Ramed's behest. He'd been ready to plunge it through hir. It was because Burgoyne had caught the point, hir hand moving so quickly that Ramed had never even seen it coming. Ramed's full strength from both arms was pitted against Bur-goyne's single hand, and still he couldn't make any headway.

  "You... said you wouldn't defend... against me," grunted Ramed.

  "What do you think, I'm stupid?" snorted Burgoyne.

  Ramed redoubled his efforts, and Burgoyne grabbed the spear with both hands, putting hir full weight against his. They shoved against each other, Burgoyne snarling deep in hir throat. To hir surprise,

  Ramed displayed greater strength than s/he'd given him credit for.

  And then something caught Burgoyne's eye.

  It was a Zondarian, an older one, and he was materializing like a ghost. He was looking at hir with unfeigned surprise.

  It startled Burgoyne. Not much. Just enough, however, for Ramed to shove hir back. S/he stumbled and suddenly realized that s/he was treading air.

  Ramed's momentary look of triumph quickly faded, however, as Burgoyne's legs scissored around his middle. The two of them plummeted down the side of the incline, hitting the side once or twice. Burgoyne, nude from the waist up, was the more vulnerable, as hir torso was lacerated by the dirt and rocks as they rolled down, down, tumbling one over the other.

  They hit the ground at the bottom, separated from one another, and miraculously

  Ramed had still managed to hold on to the spear. He leaped, trying to drive the point straight through hir, but Burgoyne was too quick, hir rage too towering.

  S/he dodged to one side, brought hir foot up and smashed him squarely in the stomach. He tried to get to his feet and then s/he swung hir talons, slicing through his upper arm, drawing blood. S/he tried to get closer, to go for his throat, but he warded hir off with the spear point, catching hir just under the ribs and drawing a thin line of blood.

  They parried, thrusted, bobbed, and weaved, each jockeying for position, and

  Ramed fell back, back...

  Burgoyne covered the distance between them in one jump, twisting in midair and avoiding the point of the spear. S/he gripped the spear firmly, and there was murder in hir eyes, and this time Ramed knew that s/he wasn't going to let go until one of them was dead. He steeled himself.

  Suddenly they both felt the energy enveloping them. The creature, the being of energy, the being of magic, of science-whatever it was-they had drawn within range of it, and now it env
eloped them.

  Burgoyne was ready for it. S/he still had the peace, the joining of Selar deep within hir. The creature insinuated itself through them, seeking weakness, trying to determine whom it could hurt.

  It cascaded through Ramed, enveloping him, searching out all his weaknesses, and

  Ramed cried out in fear, for it was everywhere, the creature was everywhere, giving him no peace, giving him nowhere to hide.

  And he knew his life for the sham that it was. Knew that he was supposed to be someone in a position of power, someone who was wise and knowledgeable and a leader. But everyone had found out, everyone had discovered the truth, that he was just one scared little man who had no true feelings of his own save what he'd been told, no real belief in himself, no confidence. He was alone, all alone, and there was Talila coming toward him, and Rab, and all of the Eenza were crying out that he had betrayed them, and all of the Unglza knew that he was a fool and that they would eventually triumph.