Star Trek - NF - 12 - Being Human

by Being Human(lit)

  "Altruism, then, is truly dead in your civilization?" she asked sadly.

  "No, not at all. But you're talking about introducing something into our society that could potentially change it to its core. People will want to know how this benefits you, and they may not want to take you up on it until they have an answer that they can understand and be-lieve. The basic answer you're giving me is that you want to be worshipped."

  "You keep using that word," Artemis said with impa-tience. "It is a word you use, I believe, because you as-sociate us with gods. It is understandable to a point... but only to a point. After that it becomes im-pertinent, and ungrateful, and even a bit dangerous."

  McHenry suddenly felt a chill in the air, and he had the distinct feeling he knew what the source of that chill was. "Artemis... are you saying... that if we don't ac-cept the offer of your ambrosia... that you're effec-tively going to ram it down our throats? And that if we don't let you... you're going to consider us a bunch of ingrates and act accordingly."

  "No. I did not say that," she replied quietly. But be-fore he could relax, she added, "And it will be up to you, Marcus, to make certain that matters do not progress to the point... where I do have to say that. Because the outcome will not be a pleasant one for anyone."

  And with that, she swung her elegant legs down and off the chair, turned, and walked right through the bulk-head. The robe dropped off behind her.

  McHenry flopped back onto bis bed and stared up at the ceiling.

  "This day just keeps getting better and better," he muttered.

  iii.

  Moke knew precisely where Xyon was the entire time.

  Even as Xyon crouched behind a locker filled with maintenance equipment, Moke made a great pretense of not having the faintest idea where the younger child was. But not for a minute had he taken the chance that Xyon would actually vanish from his care. Moke was taking his shepherding duties of the youngster very,

  very seriously, and had taken the precaution of asking Xyon's mother, Dr. Selar, to implant some sort of track-ing device on the boy.

  Selar's face remained as impassive as always, but he could see the surprise in her eyes nevertheless as she clearly wondered why in the world she hadn't thought of doing that herself in the first place. "Excellent idea, Mr. Moke" was all she said, but even that was high praise, because she had never addressed him as "Mister" before. Moke understood it to be a title of some sort, and his chest swelled with pride.

  With a hiss of a hypo, she had placed what she called a "subcutaneous transponder" (two words that Moke had had to work at very hard to try and master) under Xyon's skin, and had then presented Moke with a small tracker that was keyed directly to it. So even if Xyon managed to get out from under Moke's watchful eye, it would still be a matter of minutes, even seconds, before Moke tracked him down.

  Nevertheless, at this point Moke didn't need any help, because he could hear the child giggling from his hiding place. "Where's Xyon?" Moke called loudly. More gig-gles. Xyon wasn't talking all that much yet, but his physical development was astonishing. Within a rela-tively brief time he had gone from crawling to walking to running, and his agility was nothing short of phenom-enal.

  Moke walked all around the equipment locker, except for the place where Xyon had "hidden" himself. "Xyyyyyyon!" he called in feigned helplessness. A crewman, taking a tricorder down off the rack, smiled

  indulgently and went on his way. This was definitely a better place to play hide-and-seek than Moke's previous choice: the armory. That had gotten them escorted out of there inside of thirty seconds.

  Then he blinked in surprise, because he saw a quick movement out of the corner of his eye, but he was rea-sonably sure that Xyon and he were the only ones there. He looked back where he thought he'd seen some-thing... but it was gone. It... could have been Xyon. The child moved like lightning. "Xyyyyyyon," he called more cautiously this time, and he heard Xyon once again chuckling from the exact same hiding place he'd been in before.

  And there it was again, this time at the other side of the room.

  He spun quickly, looked once more, and once again it had been only the most fleeting of glimpses. But this time it lingered a moment more. It was an adult... a man, Moke thought, but he couldn't be sure.

  "Xyon," he said, and this time there was no amuse-ment in his voice, no sound of a young boy playing games. "Xyon, come on." Dropping the contest, he moved quickly around the equipment locker. Xyon looked up in mute, wide-eyed surprise, clearly not hav-ing expected Moke to simply walk up to him. He put out his hand and in the most no-nonsense tone he could muster, said, "I said come on. We're-"

  There again.

  This time Moke moved so quickly that he actually saw it straight on, and then it was gone again, but there was a visual impression burned into his eye. A man, def-

  initely a man, shrouded in darkness, in a black cape that enveloped most of his body, and a hood pulled up over his head. He was an older man, with a beard that was dark red with streaks of white and gray in it. What little Moke could make out of the hair atop his head seemed similar in type and style. His face was wrinkled as parchment, with a broad nose and mouth, and he was squinting. Except he seemed to have only one eye, glis-tening dark and storm-filled in the right socket. In the left there was just darkness, with a single streak of what looked like blood, just in the corner.

  He had no expression on his face at all, and that was possibly the most frightening aspect of all. Just that sheer, malevolent blankness. He had no idea how some-one could be both inscrutable and threatening, all at the same tune, but the hooded man had managed it.

  All of that seared into Moke's brain, like a lightning bolt leaving an impression upon flashing, but when he looked right where the hooded man had been, he was gone. Moke didn't have the impression that the man was moving at supernatural speeds, or trying to get out of his field of vision. It was just that whenever Moke would try to look directly at him... he could not be perceived. It was as if reality was bending around him somehow, si-lencing him, locking him away where no one could get to him.

  Moke put both his arms around Xyon and backed out of the equipment room, his head sweeping back and forth like a conning tower. He was trying to watch every square inch of the room simultaneously, while also being concerned about whatever might be behind him.

  And now it felt as if the hooded man was everywhere, all at the same time.

  He backed up, fast as he could, and then he was out the door and he banged into someone large, so unex-pectedly that he let out a yelp of alarm.

  "Is something amiss?" inquired a cultured voice. He looked up and relief sagged through him as he saw the familiar snout of Ensign Janos. "I was just passing by, and you looked a bit distres-"

  "There's... there's someone in there!" Moke man-aged to stammer out. Xyon, who was now holding tightly to Moke, was not crying. He had too much quiet confidence in Moke, a childish certainty that he would

  be protected.

  "Someone? You mean someone unauthorized?" When Moke nodded his head, Janos said firmly, "Stay here. If I am not out in thirty seconds, inform Lieu-tenant Kebron." Over Moke's loud protests, Janos took two quick strides forward and was in the equipment

  room.

  "I dunno," Moke said nervously, suddenly realizing he wasn't wearing a chronometer and so was unsure of how much time had already passed.

  But then, very quickly, Janos emerged from the room. Moke looked to see if the security officer looked the least bit concerned... or, for that matter, if his white fur had any blood on it as a result of a violent encounter with... with whoever that was in there.

  Janos, however, simply shrugged and said, "No one is here, or there, or hereabouts or thereabouts or anywhere abouts."

  Moke couldn't believe it. "Are you sure? I mean, your eyes are kind of small and pink... maybe-"

  His immediate reaction was a low growl of annoy-ance, but then Janos reined himself in. "That much is true, yes. But this," and he tapped his
nose, "never lies. No one could be hiding in there without this baby de-tecting him, her, or it. Although if you want, I can report this to the head of security... or, considering your per-sonal situation, your father if you so-"

  "No. No, that's okay," Moke said after a moment's thought. "I don't want to bother anyone or make anyone nervous. I was... probably just imagining it."

  "That would not be surprising. Children are justifi-ably renowned for their imaginations," said Janos solic-itously.

  Moke knew that much to be true. But he also knew two other things: That the hooded man had indeed been in there, no matter what Janos was saying. And that for a heartbeat, Moke had thought he'd seen the hooded man standing in the corridor, single eye gleaming and watch-ing him.

  The boy did not stop watching out all around himself for the rest of the day. And anyone who encountered him thought it was some sort of bizarre game when he would be walking around, constantly turning in circles as if hoping he would be able to see in all directions at once.

  DANTER

  i.

  speaker lodec of the danteri senate strode through the elaborate garden that lay in the back of his home, his arms spread wide in welcome when he saw Si Cwan waiting for him at the far end. Si Cwan couldn't help but notice that Lodec moved with a vehemence and enthusi-asm that belied his aged appearance, which meant one of two things: Either Lodec was a rather old fellow with a young man's vigor... or else he was a younger man who had simply been through quite a lot, and the few years he had lived had weighed heavily upon him. He had a gut feeling it was the latter.

  Nevertheless, he carried himself with poise, his back straight, his chin level. Si Cwan couldn't help but notice that Lodec had a very measured tread, each footfall pre-cisely the same distance from the one before. Soldier. Definitely soldier, he thought. Lodec's hair and beard were neatly and precisely trimmed, and his bronze skin

  was glistening in the lengthy rays of the twilight sun. His clothes, various shades of blue, were loose-fitting, although his arms were bared and displayed solid muscle.

  Si Cwan had to admit that the garden itself was a beautiful sight. Large topiaries, bushes trimmed into the shapes of various Danteri wildlife, dotted the terrain. There was a narrow spring trickling right through the middle of the garden that apparently fed the dazzling as-sortment of multicolored plant life throughout the gar-den. The aromas of the flowers were so pungent that for a brief time Si Cwan felt almost light-headed from them all. But it was only a minor effort of will to bring him-self back to the matter at hand.

  Lodec came to within two feet of Si Cwan, stopped, and bowed in greeting, hands clasped together and held tightly in front of him. "How excellent that you have come to visit me, to see my lovely garden. And I admit to being a bit surprised..."

  "Surprised? In what way?" asked Si Cwan.

  "Well, you spend so much time at the Senate, and then in committee meetings, discussions, and the like. I would think, given how much of your time is spent in-volved with us, that during your private time you would want to be as far removed from us as possible." Then, in a slightly forced endeavor to show that he was jesting, Lodec produced what passed for a laugh. At least Si Cwan thought it was a laugh. It might have been a stran-gled cough.

  "I am flattered that you see me as so dedicated a worker," said Si Cwan.

  "No flattery intended," Lodec assured him. "And there is much to do, much to do. Alliances to be formed, meetings to be held..."

  "That is what I wish to discuss with you, in point of fact."

  "Your work schedule?" asked Lodec with concern. "You think it too demanding... ?"

  "No," said Si Cwan stiffly. "I am worried because I feel that I am accomplishing nothing."

  "What?" Lodec once again emitted that odd sound that passed for laughter. "Ambassador, good Lord, you've been here less than a week! The Danteri Empire was not built in a day, you know, nor can the new Thallonian Em-pire expect a faster timetable."

  "It is not the long-term timetable that concerns me," said Si Cwan. He pulled himself in, looked for the calm center, because he could feel his anger rising and he knew that losing his temper now would not serve any purpose. "It is the short-term attitude that I see being displayed by your fellow senators. Despite all the great words, the grandiose promises that were made to me in the beginning, I sense that I am being kept at arm's length from the true process of empire building."

  "Whatever do you mean?" asked Lodec, wide-eyed.

  Si Cwan was a good foot taller than Lodec. It gave him considerable opportunity to exert his commanding presence, and he did so at that point. Looming over Lodec, his voice dropping into a tone that had a distinct edge of warning to it, he said, "Let us cease fencing, Speaker. I walked the halls of power of Thallon. I know

  the difference between meetings and sessions where pretty words and sentiments are being bandied about, as opposed to meetings of true power, when genuine nego-tiations that will make a difference are being held."

  "Si Cwan, I-"

  "The primary purpose to which I have been put thus far," said Si Cwan, "is to be one who greets incoming delegates, ambassadors, representatives of other worlds. Then I am immediately shunted away to 'other' respon-sibilities, which turn out not to be very important at all. It is as if you are using my name, my reputation, to lure people here, and then isolating me so that you can tell these people... what? What are you telling them, Lodec?"

  Lodec appeared thunderstruck. Si Cwan reasoned that either he was completely off the mark, or else Lodec was a formidable actor. "Si Cwan, you... you misunderstand!"

  "Do I?"

  "Yes!" He started to walk through his garden, shaking his head, seeming almost oblivious of Si Cwan, who was walking beside him. He seemed far more intent on speaking to his feet than to Cwan. "Yes, you greatly misunderstand. We are... we are simply trying not to waste your time!"

  "Really," said Si Cwan, unconvinced.

  "Yes, really! Truly! These 'power meetings' as you call them-why, they are exercises in political games-manship, nothing more. If you attended mem, you would see. They are little more than a series of verbal feints, thrusts, and parries. People trying to feel out each

  other's weaknesses... it's fairly juvenile, in many ways. It was felt that such things were beneath you. A waste of your time. You are, after all, nobility. Why should nobility have to condescend to such... such rel-ative trivialities?"

  Si Cwan nodded slowly. "Your words are very flatter-ing, Lodec."

  "Thank you, noble one. I seek merely to-"

  "In some ways, too flattering. As if you hope that by appealing to my ego, I will overlook certain transgres-sions." He snagged Lodec by the elbow and snapped him around. But Lodec instinctively pulled away, twisting his arm out of Si Cwan's grasp, and for a moment the two faced each other not as Thallonian noble and Senate speaker, but as two soldiers. For just a moment there was a different charge in the air, as if they were truly facing each other for the first time. Then Lodec, quickly and smoothly, drew a virtual curtain over himself. "I do not think that physical abuse is necessary, honored one," he said very softly.

  "Really. I would wager that Mackenzie Calhoun's fa-ther thought much the same thing... before you beat him to death."

  To a degree, Si Cwan felt annoyed with himself, be-cause he was taking something that he knew was some-one's personal tragedy, and throwing it at Lodec just to get a reaction out of him. Nevertheless, it worked. Lodec's face fell, and this time there was no quick restoring of his aplomb. "How-?"

  "When you are nobility," Si Cwan said with faint sar-casm, "you're expected to know these things. Tell me,

  Lodec... did it feel good when you did it?" He lowered his voice in an intimate manner designed to be as dis-concerting as possible. "Did you enjoy exercising your power over someone who had none? Was it entertaining, depriving a young boy of his father? Did you enjoy abusing your power-"

  And Lodec shot back, with an infuriated snarl, "Power?" He was reacting with such ve
hemence that Si Cwan, despite the size deferential, was taken aback for a moment. "Are you under the impression that I beat peo-ple to death because it gives me some sort of pleasure? Do you think if I had any power at all, I would have done what I did? I was powerless, Lord Cwan. As a sol-dier, I had no choice. No choice."

  "One always has a choice," Si Cwan said quietly, "The question is whether one chooses to take it or not."

  Lodec stepped back, shaking his head. He walked in a small circle for a moment, continuing to shake his head the entire time, as if trying to dismiss the past. "If I had refused... my commander, Falkar, would have killed me on the spot and brought in another to take my place. Should I have sacrificed myself? For what? For what purpose?"

  "Perhaps," Si Cwan suggested, "so that you would not be wondering, years later, whether you should have sacrificed yourself."