Everything was, in fact, unchanged. She could see that now. She had cooked up the conversations of the previous night from her fevered imaginings, but none of it was based in reality.
Her mother was heading for the door of the room, but she stopped in the door frame, turned and said, "If you're sleeping that soundly, then those dreams you were having must have really gone away." Then she paused and added, "Have they?"
Riella's breath caught in her throat and once again she was faced with the temptation to scream. "Yes," she said hollowly.
"Because if they hadn't gone away... you would tell me, wouldn't you?"
"Of course I would, Mother. Why wouldn't I?"
"No reason," her mother said gamely. "No reason at all. Is there?"
"No. None."
"Well," Malia rubbed her hands together. "We can speak more of that later.
Because, you know, I worry so much."
"I'm sure you do, Mother," said Riella, as visions of the previous night flashed through her mind. "Believe me... I'll bet it's not half as much as I worry."
V.
Si CWAN HAD NOT BEEN exactly sure of what to expect when informed that he would be meeting with the ruling council of Montos City, for Montos was very much off the beaten path for the Thallonian Empire, and he had never actually had the opportunity to go there. Montos had kept very much to itself, and since it was not a particularly advanced world (beyond minimal capability for space travel and the like) and not especially inclined to challenge Thallonian rule, Si
Cwan's people had not given it overmuch attention.
But these were different times. The worlds of Thallonian space were on their own, and even the smallest planets had new priority. Particularly when threats appeared on the horizon that had not been there before.
So Si Cwan had mounted this diplomatic visit to Montos at a time when things were still relatively peaceful, but they could heat up more quickly than anyone on Montos might anticipate. Accompanying him were Zak Kebron, the massively built Brikar who was chief of security, and Lieutenant Soleta, the Vulcan science officer of the
Excalibur who was the only one besides Si Cwan to have any sort of extensive experience with Thallonian space. Even Soleta had not been to Montos. Naturally, that meant that the planet presented some scientific curiosity to her. During the voyage to Montos, Si Cwan had wondered whether or not it might have been a good idea to have brought Robin Lefler with him as well. Ultimately, though, it probably hadn't been necessary. Besides, he reasoned, she spent an inordinate amount of time attending to his needs and requests, and she doubtlessly enjoyed the break from having to deal with him.
Upon arriving on Montos, they were escorted to the council chamber. They had been greeted respectfully by their escort, who even seemed just a bit intimidated by the sight and presence of Si Cwan and quite daunted by the glowering and formidable presence of Kebron. Once they had arrived at the council chamber, however, they had been left to stand there-with no chairs or even the slightest amenities-to face a raised podium surrounded by half a dozen chairs, three on each side. No one seemed to be showing up to sit in any of the chairs, however, or even to give them a few moments of their time. At least half an hour had passed since they had first set foot upon Montos, and Kebron, for one, was beginning to lose any semblance of patience.
Normally Kebron was one of the more temperate of individuals. He could afford to be. Anyone who bore a marked resemblance to a walking land mass could afford to view the world with a certain degree of equa- nimity. But Zak Kebron also did not suffer fools gladly, nor did he particularly enjoy having his time wasted.
"We should leave," he said finally.
"Don't be absurd, Kebron," Si Cwan told him. "We've not come all this way simply to turn around and leave again."
"True. But if we have to, we will."
"They will be along directly."
"We do not know that," Kebron said reasonably. "We may be targets."
Soleta, who had been occupying herself by running analyses of the atmosphere with her tricorder, glanced over at Kebron with an eyebrow cocked. "Targets?"
She seemed neither worried nor dismissive of the notion. "Why do you say that?"
"We are in one place. There is no one else around. One avoids being a target by moving."
"You're being paranoid, Kebron," Si Cwan told him.
Kebron, who had no neck to speak of, swiveled his entire torso to face Si Cwan.
"Yes. Your point being-?"
"That there's no point in being paranoid all the time."
"Who told you to say that?"
Si Cwan rolled his eyes. "I'm sure someone will be along-"
"I am not. Your problem, Cwan-one of many-is that your imperious attitude precludes your being able to accept that someone might be setting you up. You do not believe you could be outmaneuvered or manipulated in that way."
"And do you know what your problem is, Kebron?"
"Yes. My problem is you."
Before Si Cwan could respond, there was the sound of the chamber door scraping open. Si Cwan couldn't help but notice that Kebron subtly-at least, as subtly as he was capable of doing anything-interposed his bulk between Si Cwan and the door. For some reason, this amused Si Cwan greatly.
For all the antipathy that Kebron had developed towards him, nevertheless his sense of duty compelled him to protect Si Cwan from any potential attack. He was further amused to see that Soleta instinctively drifted behind Kebron as well.
It made sense; Kebron's first line of defense was, naturally, his considerable bulk coupled with his fairly impervious hide. Most assaults had little chance of getting through.
The individual who came through the door, however, didn't seem to present all that much of a threat. He was pale skinned, as Montosians usually were, and his antennae were slightly droopy. He was clearly rather elderly, with graying whiskers sticking out at odd angles from his pointed chin, and when he walked it was with an odd bit of a bow-legged shuffle.
He carried a triangular stone in one hand. The triangular shape had obviously not been its natural state; it had been carefully honed and polished into that condition. What was most odd about him was that he appeared to be talking to himself. He waved the stone around, muttering in a soft, rapid-fire voice, as if he were holding an animated chat with people that only he himself could see.
Clearly he represented no threat, but it was difficult to determine just what it was he did represent. Si Cwan and the others looked at each other with openly quizzical gazes, for none of them knew just quite what to make of the newcomer.
He sauntered across the room to the chair that was on the raised platform, eased himself into it, and continued to talk to himself for a few more moments. Then he looked over at Si Cwan, his attention finally focusing on the ambassador and his associates.
"Meeting come to order!" he called out authoritatively as if addressing a considerable assemblage, and he rapped the flat bottom of the triangle on his desk. "This meeting of the ruling council of Montos is now called to order." He squinted at Si Cwan. "And you are?"
Si Cwan was never one to allow himself to be thrown by anything. He drew himself up quickly and said with his customary self-possession, "Lord Si Cwan, late of the royal house of Thallon. And these are Lieutenants Soleta and Zak Kebron of the Starship Excalibur, representing the interests of the UFP. Do I have the honor of addressing one of the members of the ruling council?"
"No."
The brisk negative response confused the hell out of Si Cwan. "Did you say no?"
The old man looked around, apparently under the impression that perhaps someone else had spoken and he simply hadn't spotted him. When he satisfied himself that no one else had spoken on Cwan's behalf, he nodded and said, "Yes. Yes, I believe so."
"Then, sir, who are you?"
"I am Fr'Col." He said it with a faint air of surprise, as if he couldn't imagine why in the world Si Cwan would even need to ask. Wasn't it, after all, self-evident.
<
br /> "And you are not a member of the ruling council?"
"No. I am the entirety of the ruling council."
"Can we go home now?" Kebron said under his breath. The question was addressed to Soleta, who had sharp enough ears to hear the muttered sentiment. Nat- urally she maintained her reserve and didn't even acknowledge the comment.
"May I ask where the rest of the council is?" "Yes," the person who had introduced himself as Fr'Col said. And then he sat there and twirled his triangular stone around as if it were the most incredibly fascinating thing he'd ever seen.
Si Cwan felt himself losing his patience. It was an impulse that he fought against. It had taken him many months of concentration and self-discipline to tone down the imperious attitude that many, including most frequently Kebron, had told him he possessed. Although Cwan still felt as if they had overstated the matter, nevertheless he had endeavored to act a bit less like displaced royalty, simply out of interest in helping life go more smoothly. It was one thing to be imperious when you were in an environment where people scuttled about at your slightest whim and lived for the opportunity to perform one, just one, task on your behalf. You did not encounter that sort of attitude on a
Starship, however, where even after all this time, Si Cwan still couldn't help but feel that there were many aboard the Excalibur who regarded him simply as a guest. Certainly there was precious little kowtowing aboard the star-ship, and the crew's attitude didn't seem likely to adjust itself in the near future.
Since there was only one of him and a thousand or so of them, it seemed to make sense that he should be the one to try and make some changes in expectations. It had not been easy. And he had certainly not been particularly humble. He still deported himself with an air of someone who was accustomed to being obeyed. This was a problem since no one on the ship was really particularly obliged to obey him. But he had worked to adjust and, to some degree, so had others aboard the ship (except, naturally, for Kebron, who seemed perfectly sanguine about the notion of just taking Si Cwan and stuffing him down a photon torpedo shaft at the earliest opportunity).
The bottom line was that Cwan tried to be a bit more tolerant of lesser mortals, of which there was a staggering overabundance. And so, with that forced patience that came as naturally to him as light came to a black hole, Si Cwan said, "All right. Where... is the rest... of the council?"
"Not here."
"Not here. I see. Would it be possible to bring them here?"
Fr'Col considered that a moment. "Yesss," he said slowly, nodding and scratching his chin with the triangle. "Yes, it would. But you wouldn't want to do that."
"I wouldn't."
"No."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Well!" Fr'Col said as if the notion was appalling to him. He seemed incredulous that Si Cwan would even have suggested such an idea. "They'd stink the place up something terrible."
Si Cwan felt as if he was losing his mind, but it was Soleta who spoke up and said, "They are dead, are they not."
"Of course," Fr'Col replied.
"The rest of the ruling council are dead." Si Cwan said it slowly as if he needed to explain it to himself. Fr'Col's head bobbed in confirmation. He placed the triangular stone on the small desk next to him, then picked it up again for no discernable reason. "May I ask how that happened?"
"Yes."
There was another pause, and Si Cwan had to fight the impulse to step forward and rip out Fr'Col's throat with his teeth. "How did it happen?"
"They got old. I object!" he suddenly switched tone and slammed the triangular stone on the desk.
"You?-" He looked at his companions. Kebron's face was inscrutable as always, and it wasn't as if the Vulcan Soleta had a remarkably expressive mien either.
He looked back at Fr'Col. "You object... to what?"
"Things," Fr'Col said ominously.
Dead silence then.
Si Cwan felt his patience slipping away, and with visible effort he forced himself to maintain his equanimity.
"May I ask what... things?"
"Yes."
More dead silence.
"I'm going to kill him," rumbled Kebron, not making an effort anymore to keep his voice down. Fr'Col, however, did not seem to notice.
Si Cwan, however, did. And like tissue paper in water, his forbearance suddenly dissolved. He suddenly seemed to grow about a foot in height, and the air in the chamber appeared to darken with his anger. "Listen to me carefully, old man.
Perhaps you didn't hear me before. In case you have forgotten during this interminable conversation, I am Lord Si Cwan, once a Thallonian noble, and there was a time that I wouldn't give this pissant world of yours a second thought, or even a first thought. But times have changed. The worlds of Thallonian space, out of a sense of mutual protection, can and must draw together. That means every world, even small worlds such as yours. There are formidable forces out there who would just as soon step on you as look at you. The Redeemers, for instance. Those religious zealots are presently spreading their reign of fanaticism in the M'Gewn star sector, and the Starship
Excalibur is embroiled in a conflict with them there. But we had been asked by the ruling council of this world-we had thought-to come here. Did you or didn't you?"
Fr'Col scratched his chin thoughtfully. With a moment of apparent lucidity, he said, "I seem to recall something about that. Gothil did that, I believe. Before he passed away last week, that is."
"Wonderful. Well, the fact is that you are here, now. If you are all that is left of the ruling council, and you need assistance, then spearhead a movement among your people to elect new members. If you are fit to lead yourself, then do so. Either way, make a decision and let us proceed together to follow the lead of the United Federation of Planets and create an alliance and unity among the worlds of what was formerly Thallonian space. The might of the Thallonians no longer exists to protect small worlds such as yourself, and now is the time to forge new alliances that will see you through to the next century and beyond. Do you understand what I am saying, Fr'Col?"
"Of course, I understand; you don't have to shout."
Si Cwan was about to tell him that he hadn't been shouting, and then he realized that, in fact, he had been. His voice had become progressively louder as his frustration level had risen. He cleared his throat loudly and then said, "My pardon, Fr'Col."
"I don't want your pardon," Fr'Col said with surprising fire. "I'm not even entirely sure I want you. We don't have all that much need for alliances or guidance here on Montos, Ambassador. We've had some dealings with other races. We've done some trade here and I here, although we've never really come out with much in the bargain. We've traded valuable minerals and gotten useless junk in return. Objects that former members of the council thought was going to be of use, but never really served much purpose here.
Historically, we've kept more or less to ourselves and been left alone."
"Because of Thallonian influence."
"So you say. But you could stand on the highest mountain in these parts every morning and wave your arms, and the sun would come up. You could then turn around and claim that Thallonian influence caused the sun to rise, but the claim doesn't make it so. You see what I'm saying?"
It was all Si Cwan could do to suppress a smile of amusement. Apparently, the old man did have some spirit to him after all. "Yes. I do." Then his demeanor grew serious. "But claims shouldn't automatically be dismissed out of hand.
Danger doesn't have a habit of dispensing copious warnings; it simply presents itself, and if you are not prepared for it, it can go rather badly for you."
Fr'Col appeared to consider that, stroking his wispy beard once more. Then, abruptly, he slammed the stone down like a gavel. "It shall be considered!" he announced. "I shall need to consult with my people, however."
"Of course. Perhaps we can have the opportunity to address the-"
But Fr'Col wasn't listening to him. Instead he had slid off his chair and proceeded to amble
to the door. Moments later he had left the room.
"That went well," Si Cwan said after a time.
"In what reality did that go well?" Kebron demanded.
"You have no experience with small worlds such as this, Kebron," Si Cwan informed him haughtily. "We are dealing with basic physics here. Objects at rest tend to stay at rest-"
"Unless acted upon by an outside force," Soleta finished promptly.
"Precisely. On a world such as this, the tendency is to keep doing things the way they were done yesterday, and the day before, and so on. Complacency sets in, as does resistance to change. Occasionally it takes a while just to get the attention of those in power. But once you have, then-"
Star Trek - NF - 07 - The Quiet Place Page 8
