Star Trek: New Frontier®: Blind Man’s Bluff

  The answer, one that he was not welcoming, was abruptly being presented to him.

  Whether he would actually have done it, whether he would have followed through on the impulse and the mental image that was compelling him to turn Tania’s head into an unrecognizable, pulped mass, he would never actually know. A steely grip clamped onto his right wrist even as it started to move toward the disruptor, and he was abruptly twisted around in place to find himself staring into an older version of his own face.

  Calhoun didn’t say a word. Instead, while Xyon was still off balance, Calhoun backstepped quickly, never easing up on his grip. Xyon had no choice but to follow, almost stumbling over his own feet as he did so. It all happened so quickly that no one in Ten-Forward was aware of the altercation.

  In the corridor, as the doors slid shut behind them, Calhoun continued to keep Xyon’s arm immobilized. Xyon, for his part, made no effort to pull away. He felt it would be undignified, as if he were a frustrated infant who was balking against his daddy punishing him. He also knew it would be pointless: Calhoun was simply too strong.

  In a low, tight voice, Calhoun said, “I just got done telling Kebron you didn’t need a security escort. It could damage my standing with my crew if they think there’s ever a possibility that I could be wrong about something. Am I wrong in this case?”

  Xyon never lowered his gaze even as his father’s purple eyes seemed to bore right through his head. “No,” he said tightly. “You’re not wrong.”

  “So I won’t regret letting go of your arm, then?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  It was a small gesture of defiance, but all that Xyon could find within himself to muster at that moment.

  Calhoun maintained his grip for a moment longer, just to drive home the point, and then he released it. Xyon discovered that his wrist felt numb, but decided he wouldn’t give his father the satisfaction of seeing him shake it out in order to restore the circulation.

  “Burgy told me the two of you happened to meet up and informed me where you were going. I wasn’t quite sure how you were going to react when you saw the two of them together.” He gestured for Xyon to walk in front of him, and Xyon did so, both of them heading in the general direction of Calhoun’s cabin.

  “You knew about this? About Kalinda and that… person?”

  “It’s a small ship, Xyon. Pretty hard to keep certain behaviors secret.”

  “I wouldn’t really have attacked—”

  “That’s what you say now. It doesn’t take all that much, though, for ‘I wouldn’t really have done it’ to become, ‘I really shouldn’t have done it.’ You know what I mean?”

  Xyon did not deign to answer.

  iii.

  Once they were safely within the confines of Calhoun’s quarters, Calhoun made it clear that he was not done. “If you ever,” he said, “present a threat to anyone on my ship again, you will be treated as a presumed hostile and dealt with accordingly the next time you get in range. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Captain, I understand,” he said tersely. “Again, it was just a momentary impulse. I wouldn’t have given in to it.”

  “You need to learn self-control, Xyon.”

  “Pardon me, Captain,” and he once again sneered the word, “but the time to lecture me was when I was growing up and you were busy instilling your fatherly values in me. Not after the fact because you weren’t there all those years.”

  “Are we really going to rehash this?” asked Calhoun, his arms folded.

  Xyon was about to snap out an angry response, but then he thought better of it. With a sigh he sagged into the nearest chair. “I’m sorry. I mean it; I really am. It just… it caught me offguard, is all. I had all these ideas in my head of what I was going to say to Kalinda, and all these scenarios of how it was all going to go.”

  “And what you saw didn’t match up with any of them.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Well, I can understand how it may have been…” He sought the right word, and the closest he could come up with was “… disconcerting.”

  “Yeah, that was me. Disconcerted.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I just… I thought we had something together, you know?”

  “You did have something. I saw how she looked at you, and you at her.”

  “And now it’s gone? Just like that?”

  Calhoun shrugged. “It happens, Xyon. You were what she needed at the time. And now, at this time, she needs something else.”

  “And it’s… what’s her name…?”

  “Tania Tobias.”

  “What she needs is Tania Tobias? Really?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “Okay, well,” and Xyon, sighing, forced a weary smile, “I guess there’s plenty of stars in the sky, huh.”

  “You’ll find someone, Xyon.”

  “That was the absolute worst thing you could have said.”

  “As you’d be the first to remind me, I’m not exactly the most expert when it comes to fatherly interpersonal relationships.”

  “Which reminds me: How’s your adopted son, Moke?”

  “Barely talking to me.”

  “So maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference if you’d been there for me.”

  Calhoun walked across the room to a cabinet, from which he withdrew a decanter and two glasses. “Perhaps it would have,” Calhoun said. “It could well have made things worse.”

  “I should be grateful, then.”

  “Perhaps you should be.” Calhoun filled up the two glasses with a blue liquid and handed one to Xyon, never questioning whether Xyon would want it.

  Xyon sipped from it and the edges of his eyes crinkled, his tongue stinging from the taste. “Romulan ale? Can’t they court-martial you for having this?”

  “Of all the things I’ve done for which they could court martial me, I’d have to think this would be the most innocuous.”

  “I suppose so. Oh: What’s up with Burgoyne?”

  “Up?”

  “S/he seemed oddly restrained, to put it mildly, regarding what happened with Selar.”

  “Oh. That.” Calhoun made no effort to hide the fact that he was displeased with that state of affairs. “That was Selar’s handiwork.”

  Xyon stared at him blankly and shook his head. “I’m not following—”

  “One of the last things she did before she died was to use a Vulcan mind technique to—oh, how best to put it—numb the part of Burgy’s brain that had any feelings for her.”

  “You mean she emotionally lobotomized hir?” Xyon was appalled by the very notion. “How could she do that?”

  “There were a lot of things that Selar left us wondering what she could do. In the end, the only conclusion we’re left to draw is that all her actions were driven by what she felt were the most logical choices she could make. She was a hard woman to understand.”

  “I’m starting to think I don’t understand any of them.”

  Calhoun simply grunted in acknowledgment. He took a sip of the Romulan ale, rolled the contents around in his cheeks, and then swallowed. “All right, so… I’m not naïve enough to think that you just happened to swing by here in order to catch up on old times. Obviously there’s something you need to tell me. If you want to sit here drinking my ale for an indefinite period, I have no problem with that. But if there’s something of more immediate concern…”

  “There is, actually. Something I felt you needed to know about.”

  “And which couldn’t have simply been transmitted via subspace?”

  “I avoid subspace chatter when I can help it,” said Xyon. “Too many ears listening, too many chances for messages to go astray. I prefer talking to people face-to-face if it’s at all possible.”

  “All right, then,” said Calhoun. “Here we are, face-to-face. What’s going on?”

  “There’s trouble brewing back home.”

  Calhoun’s face darkened upon hearing this. He realized it was i
nteresting, in a distant sort of way, that when Xyon said “back home” he did not for one minute think of Earth or any other world upon which he had resided for any length. When it came to use of the term “home,” only one place qualified. “What’s happening on Xenex?” he asked.

  “Scattered reports of armored soldiers setting up encampments.”

  “In populated areas?”

  Xyon shook his head. “So far, no. Just in outlying areas. Nor have there been any attacks; just sightings. Spying parties by various concerned tribal heads haven’t revealed much of anything useful. Mostly the soldiers just stand around; they don’t even seem to be interacting with each other.”

  “Weapons?”

  “None that anyone is seeing.”

  “Then how do they know they’re soldiers as opposed to, say, surveying teams wearing environmental suits?”

  “They’re Xenexians, Father. Do you seriously think there’s anyone more qualified to recognize soldiers when they see them?”

  Calhoun couldn’t really dispute that. “Your information on this is solid?”

  “I still have a contact or two there who keep me apprised about things that are going on. I haven’t forgotten my roots.”

  “Do I sense a rebuke in there somewhere?” said Calhoun.

  “Maybe a slight one.”

  “And perhaps,” Calhoun admitted, “one that has a shred of truth to it.” He placed the now empty glass down on the cabinet. “Do you know anything more about the soldiers? What they look like, or particular markings on their armor…?”

  “Just what I’ve told you.”

  “Okay, then. I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention. I’ll take care of it.”

  “You mean you’re going to inform Starfleet?”

  “I mean I’m going to handle this personally.” He looked with hopeful interest at his son. “You want to come along?”

  “I would if I could,” said Xyon, “but I have a job waiting for me. Besides, I doubt that there’s much of anything I could bring to this party that you don’t already have covered.”

  “Attempts at modesty ill befit you, Xyon.”

  “Not modesty. Just being realistic. You’ve got this massive ship and I’ve got the Lyla. What’s the likelihood that you’re going to require my intervention because the Excalibur can’t deal with whatever you find?”

  “Fairly minimal,” Calhoun had to allow. “Still…”

  “Still what?”

  “Well, it may sound ridiculous, but I rather like having you around.”

  “You need to get over that feeling, old man,” he said, but there was no heat to the words.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Calhoun with the slightest of chuckles.

  They stood there for a moment, regarding each other with some awkwardness, and then Calhoun said, “Do we hug?”

  “Grozit, I certainly hope not,” said Xyon.

  “Yes, exactly my thoughts as well. Come,” and he gestured toward the door, “I’ll walk you back to your ship. Show you some of the improvements we’ve made on the Excal.”

  “That’s very generous. A guided tour by the ship’s captain, who you’d ordinarily think would have better things to do with his time. This couldn’t possibly stem from your concern that I’m going to go back to the Ten-Forward and start shooting, could it?”

  “I know you would never do that.”

  “And how exactly do you know that?”

  Calhoun, who had been sitting, now rose and reached into the cushion next to him. He held up a familiar weapon. “Because I took your disruptor.”

  Xyon’s eyes widened and he reached into the folds of his jacket. His disruptor was gone.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said with a growl.

  “After you, son,” said Calhoun with a cheerful demeanor that could not help but annoy the living hell out of Xyon.

  iv.

  “And there he was, just standing there, the bastard, with my disruptor in his hand and a smug expression on his face.”

  Xyon had returned to his vessel and was now prepping her for departure from the landing bay. The massive doors that covered the bay were sliding open and the depths of space were visible and calling to him. At that moment, he was venting his frustration to Lyla, the holographic entity that served as the ship’s computer mind. Incarnated as a gorgeous blonde, she listened with endless patience and a carefully designed look of sympathy as Xyon gave vent to the circumstances of his wounded ego.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, Xyon,” she said. “It must have hurt terribly to be outwitted in that manner.”

  “I wasn’t outwitted, Lyla! He just… he…” He sighed. “Yeah, okay, he outwitted me. Are you happy?”

  “Only when you are, Xyon.”

  “You always know just what to say, Lyla.”

  “That’s true. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “You’re right about that. So… fire up the lift-off sequence. Let’s put this ship behind us.”

  “Did you have the opportunity to say good-bye to Kalinda?”

  He hesitated. There was no reason he couldn’t speak his mind to Lyla. She was utterly nonjudgmental, and for that matter, if he regretted saying something to her, he could always order her to forget it.

  “I think to say good-bye to somebody… you have to be with them to begin with. Kalinda and I may have gone through a lot together, but with everything going on in my life, and all the problems rooting around in her head… I don’t think we were ever with each other. You know what I mean?”

  “No,” said Lyla. She sounded ever so slightly apologetic.

  He sighed heavily. “Let’s just say that Kally and I already had our good-byes and leave it at that, okay?”

  “Okay, Xyon. Ship now ready for departure. Bay doors fully opened.”

  “Good. Get us the hell out of here.”

  “As you wish. Oh… did you provide Captain Calhoun with the information you were paid to give him?”

  “Yeah. Everything our employer asked us to tell him. And he reacted exactly the way that I suspected he would. He’s taking charge of it himself and riding to the rescue to help his fellow Xenexians.”

  “Do you know why our employer wanted Captain Calhoun to be apprised of the situation on Xenex? For that matter, do you know our employer’s identity?”

  Being an artificial intelligence, Lyla wasn’t really capable of such things as wounded pride. Yet she had seemed mildly annoyed when she had been unable to penetrate the scrambling technology that had blocked them from seeing their employer’s face, or the point of origin of the transmissions they had received, or otherwise learn the true identity of their employer in any way.

  “No, I don’t know who it is, and frankly, I couldn’t care less,” said Xyon. “I was given a fair price for my services, and the transfer into my credit account was made in a timely fashion. Besides, it’s not as if there’s any real love lost between my father and me. I was hired to feed him that information about Xenex. I did what I was paid to do. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the end of the story. From here on out, it’s my father’s problem.”

  “Don’t you care what might happen to him?”

  Xyon considered all the issues he’d had with his father over the years. He also considered how, as recently as a few minutes ago, his father had spoken of how much he liked having him around. Calhoun had reached out to him, and he had effectively batted away the efforts to set aside their differences and let go of his boundless anger.

  “No,” said Xyon tersely.

  “Okay,” Lyla said.

  Moments later the small smuggling vessel had lifted off and was hurtling away from the Excalibur as fast as it could go. When the ship was far enough distant, the Lyla leaped into warp space and left the Excalibur far behind.

  As space bent and twisted around his ship, Xyon watched the instruments with a sort of gloomy resignation. Lyla stepped in behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

  “Xyon?
Would you like me to make myself look like Kalinda and we can have sex?”

  He looked up at her wanly and then sighed. “Actually… yes. I’d like that very much.”

  “As you wish,” she said, and a second later had transformed herself into an exact replica of Kalinda.

  Xyon pulled her toward him and brought his lips cruelly down on hers.

  The Daystrom Institute

  Four Days After the Meeting on Tendara Colony

  The Doctor could scarcely believe his eyes.

  “I can scarcely believe my eyes,” he said, since it was not his wont to provide any manner of screen between his thoughts and his spoken sentiments.

  “Seems to me that you have no choice,” said Seven, “since we are most definitely here.” She nodded toward his quarters with a tilt of her chin. “Do you mind if we enter?”

  “No, not at all! You are certainly welcome. I don’t have much in the way of company here.” With what doubtless seemed like a good deal of suaveness on his part, he stepped away from the door to his quarters and gestured widely, as if he were a ringmaster addressing a vast array of people. “Entrez, s’il vous plaît.”

  Correctly intuiting that the Doctor had asked them to come in, using the language she believed to be French, she entered the quarters with Soleta directly behind her.

  There was almost nothing in the quarters. There was a bed in the adjoining room that was visible through the connecting doorway, and a couch in the living room, to which the Doctor was now gesturing for them to sit.

  “I love what you… haven’t done with the place,” said Seven.

  “Thank you.”

  Soleta was staring at the Doctor with intense curiosity, and her interest was evident to the Doctor as well. Seven noticed his back stiffening slightly, an action that he customarily took when he was confronted with someone whom he regarded as a potential threat. “This is Soleta,” said Seven quickly.

  “Hello,” he said in that formal tone of his, extending his hand.