Obsidian Alliances

by Peter David

  And then it seemed as if white light was exploding behind her eyes. For one second she could see nothing and everything, all at the same time, and even though she was still on the ground, she felt as if she was hovering high above it. She saw herself, she saw Muck, Si Cwan, the crew, the Danteri—everyone all around her including herself, frozen there as if locked into amber. Time had stopped. She walked casually around them, looking at them in amazement. She reached out to “touch” one of them and her hand passed right through them. She didn’t know whether they weren’t there or she wasn’t there or even where “there” was.

  Suddenly she was floating, weightless, and she knew with abrupt, crystal clarity that she was in the null sphere. There was an instant of panic because she knew she couldn’t breathe in that environment, and then she realized she wasn’t breathing.

  McHenry was floating there opposite her. Hairless, browless, and he couldn’t possibly see her because he didn’t appear to have any pupils. His eyes were simply balls of white, unable to focus on anything. And yet he appeared to be looking right at her, even without the proper ocular mechanism.

  And then words appeared in her head.

  She didn’t know how to express what she was experiencing. It was more than simple telepathy. It was as if she could actually see the words floating before her.

  It took you long enough, McHenry thought to her.

  And then he shut down the Stinger.

  20

  Si Cwan had been busy locking coordinates of the main weapons onto key planetary targets when the entire tactical array went down. Seconds later, so did the lights.

  “Of all the—” Si Cwan began.

  Then the gravity went out.

  The entire crew of the nerve center suddenly found itself floating. Si Cwan shouted a particularly obscene Thallonian curse. Everyone else was floating and cursing as well, with the exception of Zak Kebron. Kebron wore a gravity compensator to make up the difference between his environment and what his body was accustomed to from his homeworld, so all he needed to do was make a quick adjustment and he thudded back to the floor within seconds after the gravity ceased to function.

  “Zak!” shouted Si Cwan. “Call down to Kalinda! Find out what the hell is going on!”

  Kebron, anchored firmly to the floor, tapped the comm unit and started to speak into it. But before he got more than a word out, Si Cwan—kicking off the ceiling—angled down toward the comm unit so that he could speak himself. Kebron obligingly grabbed Si Cwan by the arm to keep him stable so that he wouldn’t float off.

  “Kalinda!” shouted Cwan. “Report! Why is the gravity out all over the ship?!”

  “Not all over. It’s not out down here.”

  It had been a female voice over the comm unit, but it wasn’t Kalinda’s. It took Si Cwan a moment to identify it, and then his face twisted in rage. “You Romulan bitch!” he snarled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I think I’m taking control of your ship,” her voice came back.

  Si Cwan twisted around to look at Kebron and snapped, “Where’s Burgoyne!? Get hir down there! Make sure s/he brings a squad with hir. I want that damned Romulan’s head on a—”

  “My head is staying on my shoulders, and Burgoyne is dead. Hir squad is dead. And if you don’t shut up, your sister will join them in short order.”

  Instantly the mood in the nerve center changed. Kebron’s face showed no surprise; it never did. But Si Cwan was thunderstruck, his face becoming very pale red. “You’re lying,” he managed to say.

  There was deathly silence, and for a moment Si Cwan was heartened by it, for it convinced him that he was correct and Soleta was bluffing. That lasted for as long as it took Kalinda’s voice to come through the speaker. It sounded much deeper and raspier than usual. She was clearly in pain, and it seemed to Cwan that she could barely catch her breath.

  “It’s true,” she said.

  Once again silence reigned in the nerve center. Si Cwan, still floating, licked his lips nervously and said, “Kally…have they hurt you?”

  “They shot me. He did. The Xenexian.”

  “He did it to threaten me,” Si Cwan assured her. “He wouldn’t dare to kill you.”

  “Actually,” Soleta’s voice now cut in, “Muck thought he had killed her. He’d like to kill her right now. He’d like to kill all of you. But I’m going to give you and your crew a chance to live. Because you’re no longer in control of this vessel, so there’s really no reason for you not to leave.”

  “So …” Si Cwan tried to rally his confidence, although it was difficult for him to do so, considering that he was floating. “So you managed to overcome some circuitry. Figure out a few things about the ship’s mechanisms. That doesn’t mean you can stay in control. We’ll regain it, mark my words, and when we do … and when we find you … if my sister is not still alive—”

  “You still don’t quite seem to understand. I do control this ship. I control McHenry. Or rather … we’re of one mind, you might say. And it appears that he’s rather sympathetic to my cause. Watch …”

  The gravity suddenly came back on. Si Cwan and the others thudded to the floor. But before they could stand or pull themselves together, the gravity cut out again, sending them tumbling upward with great velocity to bang against the ceiling. There were cries and grunts of frustration, and then the gravity returned … and vanished … and returned … and vanished. They bounded up and down like so many rubber balls until Si Cwan literally didn’t know which way was up.

  “Having fun? I am,” came Soleta’s voice, and she allowed the gravity to come back on again. The nerve center crew crashed to the ground, as did all of the other people populating the vessel. This time, though, the gravity did not disappear again. Si Cwan and the crew lay there, gasping for breath, trying to pull themselves together. Soleta said nothing for a time, perhaps allowing them the time to compose themselves. When she spoke again, her voice sounded lower and fraught with warning. “And that’s just the gravity. McHenry informs me you have some impressive internal defensive weapons on this vessel. They were designed to protect you against intruders.”

  A pencil-thin beam of concentrated light sizzled out from an overhead nozzle and sliced into the floor directly between Si Cwan’s legs. He froze for a second and then scrambled backward. The beam was designed in such a way that it could have tracked him, but it didn’t. Instead it held its target for a few moments and then shut off.

  “But how,” continued Soleta, “are you going to protect yourselves from your protection?”

  Once again she lapsed into silence. Si Cwan was breathing heavily, and he felt the gaze of his command crew upon him. His mind raced desperately, trying to come up with some sort of alternative, some sort of plan. The only thing he could think of was to blow up the ship—except he was positive that the occupant of the null sphere was never going to allow that to happen. He had never expected them to get to McHenry. How the hell had they managed it? Romulans weren’t telepaths. It should have been impossible. What sort of freak—or freaks—had he allowed onto his vessel?

  At that moment he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on the Praetor and throttle him for getting him into this fix.

  “Do you wish to get out of this alive, oh killer of my father?”

  The challenging tone got his attention. He hadn’t come up with any way out of this damnable situation on his own; there was no harm in listening to what the bitch had to say. “What do you suggest?” He saw the startled expressions of his people, but he just glared at them. It wasn’t as if he had a lot of options.

  “You can’t be especially happy with the Praetor right now.”

  “You read my mind,” he said, and then added suspiciously, “Can you actually do that?”

  “Oh, I’d rather leave you wondering that. Here’s the offer: You and your people depart this vessel in the various shuttles you have available to you. You make your way back to the Praetor. You make clear to him how upset you are a
bout the situation.”

  “I ‘make clear to him.’ Meaning …”

  “You assassinate him.”

  “I suspected as much,” said Cwan. “And just out of curiosity, once I’ve accomplished that little feat, how do you suggest I get off Romulus alive?”

  “That’s not my concern,” replied Soleta. “That shouldn’t even be your concern. Your concern should be how you’re going to get off this ship alive.”

  “True. And if I do not kill the Praetor?”

  “Oh, I have every confidence that you will.”

  Slowly Si Cwan got his feet under him. Inwardly he was seething over the situation. That slip of a Romulan girl, and her idiot servant, had somehow outmaneuvered him. Him! Si Cwan of the House of Cwan, lord of Thallon.

  Si Cwan was ever a practical individual. He had to acknowledge that, yes indeed, she had outmaneuvered him. He could resent the hell out of her for it. However, that wasn’t going to change the reality of it. Kalinda was being held hostage, the ship itself had been turned against them. If he refused to cooperate, he was dead. If he cooperated …

  … if he cooperated, he would live to fight another day. And Kalinda would be safe.

  “Very well,” he said. His jaw was so tight that the words were almost incomprehensible. “Bring Kalinda to the docking bay—”

  “Ohhh no. No, she stays here.”

  “If she stays here, you have no deal.”

  “If you stay here, you have no life. Your choice. It’s my way of making sure that you do as you promised regarding the Praetor.”

  “I thought you had ‘every confidence’ that I would.”

  “That’s correct. It’s because I’m going to hold on to your sister until you do.”

  “How do I know that you won’t kill her as soon as I leave?”

  “Because, Lord Cwan,” she said, the anger surfacing in her voice, “if I did that, it would make me a cold-blooded murderer … like you.”

  Zak Kebron made a noise that sounded like an avalanche deep in his chest. “Let me kill them,” he growled.

  “I heard that,” came Soleta’s voice.

  Kebron replied, “I don’t care.”

  “Cwan,” came Kalinda’s voice, “do as she says. I beg you. I’ll be all right. But if she uses the ship’s self-defense weaponry against you … if she kills you because you didn’t want to leave me … I can’t live with that.”

  Si Cwan was standing by that point. He leaned forward on the nearest console and stared at Kebron. He had never felt more helpless. Kebron mouthed the same words: Let me kill them.

  It was so very, very tempting. But it was a temptation to which he dared not yield.

  He clicked another switch, putting the internal communications unit on throughout the entire ship. “Attention all hands,” he said, his voice flat. “Assemble in the shuttlebay. We are abandoning ship. Repeat, we are abandoning ship.”

  There was an outburst of protest and shouts from the command crew, but Cwan silenced them with a look.

  “Very wise, Lord Cwan,” came Soleta’s voice. “And I have every confidence that we will meet again at some future date.”

  “As so I,” he assured her. He pulled out his weapon and fired off a shot at the communications device. The speaker exploded in a shower of sparks. Then he turned to his crew and said, “This isn’t over. I swear by all my ancestors, I will kill her slowly and painfully. Now let’s go.” There was some hesitation and he said sharply, “That’s an order.”

  Suddenly one of his men stepped forward, his own disruptor in his hand, and he snapped, “This for your orders, you coward!” and he fired.

  Kebron, moving with a speed that belied his size, had enough warning to step between them. The disruptor blast struck him squarely in the chest.

  It made no impression at all.

  Before the offending crewman could do anything, Kebron reached out, grabbed him by the head, and squeezed. There was a muffled crack like an egg shattering, and what was left of the mutineer slumped to the floor.

  “Anyone else?” asked Kebron calmly.

  There was rapid shaking of heads, and moments later the nerve center of the Stinger had cleared out. Si Cwan was the last one out. He cast a frustrated glance behind him and then whispered a silent prayer to the gods of his people that Soleta and her servant would die a slow and lingering death.

  The minute that Si Cwan and his people were out in space in shuttlecrafts, the big guns of the Stinger opened fire and blew them to atoms.

  21

  What did you do? What the hell did you do?”

  Soleta was standing in the nerve center, staring in horror at the viewscreen where pieces of Si Cwan’s ships and Si Cwan’s crew were floating past. Her shoulder was numb from the pain medications she had self-administered, and the wound she had sustained was cleaned and dressed. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, but she suspected that would pass before too long.

  “What you didn’t have the nerve to do,” Muck replied coolly. “Your father’s death cried out for vengeance. You wouldn’t do it. So I did.”

  “I wanted to use him to kill the Praetor!” She advanced on Muck, waving her hands around in frustration. “The Praetor is the one who is truly responsible for my father’s death! Cwan was just a means to that end!”

  “You wanted him dead. Don’t deny it.”

  “I don’t, but—!”

  She tried to compose herself, covering her face with her hands and slowing her breathing to compose herself.

  You’re upset.

  McHenry’s voice sounded in her head. She glanced up at Muck, but he didn’t react at all. Apparently McHenry was speaking solely to her.

  “Stay here,” she said sharply. “Don’t kill anyone while I’m gone.” She stalked out of the nerve center before Muck could say anything else.

  She strode a short way down the hall and then stopped at a door. At first she wasn’t sure what had compelled her to halt there, and then she realized.

  Your father is in there, yes.

  Her eyes narrowed in annoyance. “For someone who was basically comatose for as long as anyone can remember, it’s amazingly difficult to shut you up.”

  Blame yourselves. When you and M’k’n’zy made contact with me, I imprinted on your personalities. I managed to absorb a lot…especially from M’k’n’zy. His personality is quite powerful.

  “I know.”

  She hesitated a moment more and then decided that hesitating wasn’t going to do any good. So she took a deep breath and strode forward. The door hissed open and there was the body of her father, slumped back in his chair. Sprawled forward on the table was the Danteri ambassador. The red blood of the Danteri had mixed with Rojan’s green blood, creating a murky puddle on the tabletop.

  She went to her father and gently touched his face. His eyes were still open in shock. She put a hand on them and gently closed them. “I’m sorry, Father,” she whispered, wiping a tear away. “I should have done better for you. I should have talked you out of coming. I should have…done more.”

  M’k’n’zy was correct. You wanted to kill them as well.

  “Yes.”

  But you decided to pursue another path…or at least you did before M’k’n’zy did what he did.

  “Before you did it,” she corrected sharply. “He couldn’t have done it without you. You’re in his head the same way you’re in mine now, right?”

  That’s right.

  “And he wanted them dead and you helped him do it.”

  That’s also right.

  “Why?”

  Because it’s what he wanted. And because he wanted it, I wanted it. That’s not terribly complicated, is it?

  “It’s incredibly complicated,” she sighed.

  But I don’t understand the problem. If you wanted them dead, why were you offering them a way out?

  “If you’re in my head so much, you tell me.”

  There was a slight pause. Then the voice said, Because you had
a glimpse into the depths of M’k’n’zy’s soul, and you felt that pursuing cold-blooded vengeance would make your own soul much the same. And you were daunted by that. You feared for what you would become. So you decided that doing something other than simply killing them would be preferable.

  “That’s more or less correct,” she said wearily. She felt much, much older than she’d been the previous day.

  Then I don’t see what the problem is. You wanted them dead. But you were reluctant to because of what you felt it would make you. Instead M’k’n’zy killed them. So your goal was accomplished and your conscience remains clear. It seems a win all around for you.

  “You don’t understand.”

  Please explain.

  “I can’t.”

  I said please. He sounded almost petulant about it, like a small boy who was irritated because he’d asked nicely and still hadn’t been given whatever he desired.

  “It’s involved,” she said, “and it’s confusing. And I haven’t worked it out yet.” Gently she traced the tip of her father’s right ear with her finger.

  What are you going to do with his body?

  “Bring it back to Romulus for a proper burial.”

  What about the Danteri?

  “That I will leave to his people. In fact, thank you for reminding me.”

  Reminding you of what?

  “To contact the Danteri, tell them that their beloved allies, the Romulans, have turned against them, and that, if it weren’t for us, this ship would have laid waste to their planet. That they’re safe.”

  Are they? McHenry inquired.

  There was something in the way he said it that Soleta really, really didn’t like.

  22

  Kalinda lay alone in the sick lab.

  The healing instrumentation was positioned over her and making soft, pulsing noises. For safety, she’d been strapped in place so that she couldn’t start wandering around the ship, looking for a way to sabotage it. Not that either Muck or Soleta thought there was a serious chance of that, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious.