iv.
Mackenzie Calhoun walked into the hallway, glanced right and left and, when he saw that there was no one around, disappeared.
Starfleet Headquarters, San Francisco
Not Long After
i.
Admiral Edward Jellico had not been expecting a visit from Tusari Gyn, the Prime Arbiter of the New Thallonian Protectorate’s Council. And now that Gyn was there, he couldn’t say he was thrilled about the arrival.
He knew that making judgments of nonhumans based purely on their physical appearance was the exact wrong attitude to have, especially for someone who was a high-ranking officer in Starfleet. Yet he found himself reacting negatively to Gyn’s appearance. He had the typical red skin and bald pate of a Thallonian, but as opposed to the muscular and robust—and unfortunately dead—Si Cwan, Tusari Gyn was all angles and elbows. “A lean and hungry look,” as Shakespeare might have said. His brow was distended, making it almost impossible to see his eyes. He stood in Jellico’s office, hunched forward, in what seemed to Jellico to be a deliberately forced manner designed to convey subservience, which simply heightened Jellico’s suspicions all the more.
“I appreciate you taking the time to see me at such short notice,” Tusari Gyn said to him. His voice was low, barely above a whisper, and Jellico had to strain to hear him. Suspicious individual that Jellico was, he had a feeling that it was deliberate on Gyn’s part. He was forcing Jellico to come to him, so to speak, and basically hang on his every word. “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.”
“No, not at all. Just doing some historical reading.”
“About what?”
“Naval disasters.”
“How depressing,” said Tusari Gyn.
“It can be useful, actually. After all, we basically oversee a fleet of ships travelling unknown territories. There are always lessons to be learned from the past that can be applied to modern day.”
“If you say so.” Gyn didn’t seem especially interested in pursuing the conversation, which suited Jellico just fine. In fact, he started to think that his choice of reading material was consistent with what was developing into the theme of the afternoon: imminent disasters that, with a little planning, could have been avoided.
He gestured for Tusari Gyn to be seated. Gyn politely shook his head and remained standing, which was yet another action that annoyed Jellico greatly.
“What’s on your mind, Arbiter?” Jellico said.
“Actually,” and Gyn held up a single finger, correcting him, “it would be best if you addressed me as ‘ambassador.’”
“Really. This office received no notice that you were now acting in an ambassadorial capacity.”
“Consider this your notice,” said Gyn with a slight inclination of his head. “If you do not believe me, you are certainly welcome to check with the Thallonian Council.”
“I believe I will do exactly that. Please wait outside.”
Jellico was pleased to see Gyn’s startled look. Clearly the Thallonian had not expected that response. He recovered quickly and, with a slight bow, said, “As you wish,” and removed himself to the outer office. The entire exchange gave Jellico some mild satisfaction. Gyn had shown up out of nowhere, with no appointment, and clearly had some sort of agenda. Thus far Gyn had maintained the upper hand and Jellico couldn’t resist the opportunity to get some leverage of his own. Let the Thallonian stew out there for a time, while Jellico did some quick investigative work to determine whether the Thallonian was what he said he was.
It turned out to be the truth.
A quick check with the diplomatic branch established that, yes, Tusari Gyn had been newly credentialed as the official Thallonian ambassador, with all rights and duties that came with the title. The New Thallonian Protectorate was one of the newer official members of the Federation, and it was Jellico’s obligation to extend every courtesy to its official representative.
That didn’t stop Jellico from letting Tusari Gyn cool his heels in the outer office for an additional twenty minutes, just because he felt like it.
Finally Gyn was back in Jellico’s office. It was hard to tell if he was scowling, because of his pronounced brow, but Jellico certainly liked to think that the Thallonian was annoyed. “That took longer than I thought it would,” said Tusari Gyn.
“These things take as long as they take,” said Jellico, waving once again to the chair opposite his desk. Tusari Gyn once again started to remain standing, but then he seemed to think better of it and took a seat. “So… you have something to say to me?”
Gyn regarded him thoughtfully. “If I may be forward, Admiral: I sense a bit of hostility coming from you.”
“I wonder why in the world you’d be sensing that,” said Jellico. “After all, all you did was lead an attempt to steal an infant from its mother because you considered the child a threat to consolidating your power base. You followed that up by threatening a major diplomatic incident if mother and child were not immediately turned over to you.”
“That is a gross distortion, Admiral. A grotesque rewriting of history—”
“And furthermore,” Jellico continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I wouldn’t rule out the possibility that you were complicit in the assassination of the infant’s father.”
Tusari Gyn sharply sucked in air and then let it out slowly. “Is it customary to hurl calumnies at all new ambassadors?”
“It’s a pilot program we’re breaking in. How’s it working for you so far?” said Jellico. He heard the words coming out of his mouth, and he thought, My God, Calhoun is rubbing off on me, but he couldn’t help it. Gyn’s people had caused him no end of grief, and had threatened a former member of Starfleet besides. He wasn’t inclined to cut Gyn even the slightest bit of slack.
“I have to say I resent it,” said Gyn, keeping his voice carefully even.
“And I have to say that I don’t care,” replied Jellico. “Thanks to the Thallonians, Robin Lefler is effectively a woman without a world.”
“It’s a large Federation, Admiral, with lots of worlds. There are many places that she could go…”
“She should be allowed to go anywhere, but because the Federation has to remain neutral in your dispute, let’s just say that her options are limited.”
“And my job here,” said Tusari Gyn, “if we could put aside your obvious antipathy for a moment, is to open her options once more.”
“You’re going to suggest that she return to New Thallon?” Jellico shook his head. “That possibility was already floated and rejected. There is absolutely no reason for Robin Lefler to think that matters will go any differently than they did before. She doesn’t trust anyone there, and I don’t blame her.”
“Nor do I,” said Tusari Gyn.
That comment surprised Jellico. “You don’t.”
“Admiral,” said Gyn with the air of someone possessing great forbearance, “my feelings on this matter mirror yours. The problem is that, as prime arbiter, my job was to carry out the will of the Council. My voice has no more weight than anyone else’s. In this case, the truth is that I was loath to attempt taking the child from Robin Lefler. But my wishes were set aside in favor of the Council’s preference, and I had no choice save to do as they bid. And their bidding was—whether you and I wish to admit it or not—entirely within Thallonian law.”
“Then I don’t see what there is to talk about, unless you’re here to issue new threats—”
“I’m here to suggest changing the law.”
Jellico looked at him askance. “Excuse me?”
“We are many things, Admiral, but a lawless society we are most definitely not. If the laws are changed, if accords can be worked out in alignment with them, then Robin Lefler would be able to live her life on the world of her husband with impunity. She would be fully entitled to raise her child however she saw fit, and the child’s life—and his relationship with his mother—would be sacrosanct. Anyone attempting to come between them or in some other way threaten
the well-being of mother and child would be subjected to the maximum penalties we have to offer. And I assure you those penalties can be quite stiff.”
“Then change the laws,” said Jellico, “and we’ll see if we can sell the idea to Robin.”
“It is not that easy.”
“These things never are,” Jellico said with a sigh. “So what would be impeding it?”
“Because right now the Council is intransigent on the matter and would never consider making any sort of changes.”
“Well then,” and Jellico spread his hands in an exasperated manner, “why are you bringing this up at all? I mean, isn’t the matter somewhat academic? If it’s that hopeless—”
“I do not believe it is hopeless. I simply believe it is a situation that needs to be approached from a fresh direction.”
Jellico wasn’t ecstatic about the conversation. It was obvious that it was leading somewhere, and Tusari Gyn was the one who was doing the leading. Once again, Jellico was not in control of the situation. But he wasn’t quite sure what, if anything, he could do about it except to see where Gyn was going with it. “And I assume you have one in mind?”
Slowly Tusari Gyn nodded. “I do, in fact.”
“Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?”
“It involves Captain Mackenzie Calhoun.”
On the one hand, the statement surprised Jellico. On the other hand, for some reason, it didn’t. Calhoun somehow managed to insinuate his presence into an astounding number of situations, sometimes without even trying. This seemed to be one of those instances. “Calhoun.”
“The captain has garnered a great deal of respect from the New Thallonian Protectorate.”
“You’re not serious,” said Jellico. “From where I sit, the Excalibur is dead center of every major political dustup that’s ever been. Calhoun has pissed off more people—”
“Pissed—?”
“Angered more people than any ten Starfleet officers combined. And he has not hesitated to interfere in Thallonian internal matters, up to and including the very issue that we’re currently discussing.”
“All of that is true,” Tusari Gyn readily concurred. “But that has not led to any diminishment of the high regard in which he is held.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not.” He actually smiled. It was not a pleasant thing to see. “You do not understand us, Admiral.”
“I’ll certainly concede that much.”
“We are, at our core, a warrior society. We respect strength, and we respect a clever opponent. Captain Calhoun has been all of that and much more. Because of that, he is held in high regard as a worthy opponent. And worthy opponents are worth listening to.”
“You’re saying that you want Captain Calhoun to come to New Thallon and advocate changing the laws under which Robin Lefler and her son were being persecuted?”
“I do not know that I would have used the word ‘persecuted,’ but that is more or less correct, yes.”
Jellico leaned back in his chair. It squeaked slightly and he made a mental note to have it attended to. “And you really think that would work?”
Tusari Gyn was silent for a moment and then said, “What I am about to tell you remains strictly between us, Admiral. If you were to repeat any of it, I would deny it utterly. Is that understood?” When Jellico nodded, Gyn continued, “This would actually be a blessing for my people. Even though it was in the spirit of the laws of New Thallon, the attempted removal of Cwansi from his mother, and the aftermath, is seen by quite a number of the populace as an abominable act. They don’t care that it was in accordance with the law. ‘Where was the protection of the Protectorate?’ people have said. And the peace and sanctity of the New Thallonian Protectorate cannot tolerate any sort of substantial rift between its people and the Council. It could, if unchecked, lead to disastrous consequences.”
“I’m with you so far,” said Jellico.
“By bringing in Captain Calhoun to serve as a mediator for the interests of Robin Lefler and the infant, it allows everyone involved to save face.”
“How? Calhoun would be painted as an outsider, sticking his nose into your legally prescribed methods.”
“Not at all. He would be serving as representative of a royal Thallonian infant. That would give him standing in any debate, not to mention complete immunity from anyone who would think to try and punish him for previous transgressions.”
“The Thallonians punishing Mackenzie Calhoun.” Jellico chuckled. “Good luck with that.”
“Yes, it would prove challenging. In any event,” and he leaned forward, his hard-to-see eyes fixed upon Jellico, “what do you think?”
Jellico considered it. “I think it’s something of a long shot. And I think it might be a tricky sell to Calhoun and to Robin Lefler. Not to mention that…”
That what? That Robin Lefler’s mother threatened to bring the Federation crashing down around my ears if anything happened to her daughter? That she said under no circumstances would Robin return there, and that the Thallonians weren’t to be trusted?
“That what?” Tusari Gyn prompted him.
“Nothing,” Jellico said. “It’s nothing that can’t be addressed. Look: I’ll contact Calhoun. I’ll see what he thinks.”
“You could simply order him, I assume.”
“If I firmly believed in the mission, I would do that without hesitation. In this case, I’m not sending Calhoun into it unless he’s one hundred percent on board from the get-go. Not to mention that safe passage for Calhoun, for Lefler and her son, for the Excalibur, all of that would have to be absolutely guaranteed.”
“You have my word as ambassador,” Tusari Gyn said firmly.
“All right, then,” said Jellico, and he stood. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” and Gyn stood up as well. “It is all I can expect, given the circumstances. I appreciate you taking the time.”
Gyn then bowed slightly, and Jellico bowed in return. And once Gyn had departed, Jellico sat and turned the entire conversation over and over in his mind, trying to see the gaps in logic, trying to determine what he had missed and what he was overlooking.
Then he instructed his aide to get word to the Excalibur that he needed to have a conversation with her captain.
ii.
Tusari Gyn walked across the grand plaza outside Starfleet headquarters. He kept his gaze resolutely forward, not making eye contact with anyone.
Heading toward him from the other direction was Admiral Nechayev. She appeared lost in thought, not paying the slightest attention to anyone around her.
They drew within a few feet of each other and then passed without ever slowing.
But as they did, Gyn said in a low voice, “It’s done.”
Nechayev nodded in acknowledgment.
They went their separate ways.
Xenex
Shortly After Tusari Gyn’s Meeting at Starfleet Headquarters
i.
D’ndai glanced out the window of his study and saw the crowds massing. More and more people were showing up with each passing minute. D’ndai shook his head and turned to face his bewildered and frustrated brother. “Well, this is becoming increasingly awkward,” said D’ndai.
“I need a ship, D’ndai. And I need one quickly,” said Calhoun.
“I’ll see what I can arrange.”
“It has to be now.” He was pacing the room as if he were a caged animal looking for some means of escape.
D’ndai scowled at him. “What’s the problem, little brother? Can’t wait to get the hell off the planet that gave you birth?”
Calhoun stopped pacing and turned to face his brother, an edge to his voice that could have cut diamond. “You need to put aside whatever hurt feelings and envy you’re still nursing. This isn’t about me. This is about you, and everyone around you. You can’t begin to understand the level of danger you’re in.”
“What are you talking about, M’k’n’zy? So your
ship accidentally left you behind. Aside from making you late for your next appointment, I don’t see—”
“No, you don’t see.” He covered his eyes for a moment to compose himself, and then he lowered his hand. “D’ndai… it wasn’t an accident. You need to understand that. These things don’t happen by accident. It was done deliberately. I was abandoned here.”
“Why would your crew do that? Is it mutiny?”
“My crew wouldn’t do it. It’s… complicated,” he said, having no desire to get into a detailed discussion about a computer entity gone berserk. “The point is that leaving me behind wouldn’t be the end of it, because sooner or later I would be able to get off the planet. Which means that the person responsible for this wouldn’t allow enough time for that to happen. My being abandoned is step one; I need to get out of here before step two occurs.”
“What do you think step two is going to be?” D’ndai still wasn’t taking Calhoun completely seriously, but there was just enough concern flickering in his eyes to convey to Calhoun that he was at least listening.
“Honestly, I don’t know,” said Calhoun. “I have some guesses, but I think it safe to say that—whatever it is—it isn’t going to be of benefit to the Xenexian people…”
His voice trailed off.
He felt that same unaccountable warning of danger that had always served him well.
Calhoun looked toward the ceiling, “through” it, sensing that whatever was happening, it was coming from above. Then he glanced toward the window, where Xenexians could be seen looking toward the sky, pointing, seemingly concerned.
“It’s too late,” he said softly. “I waited too long. It’s here.”
“What is?”
“Step two.”
“All… all right,” said D’ndai. He might not have been totally in accord with Calhoun’s assessment of the situation, but he had enough respect for his brother to know that if M’k’n’zy of Calhoun said danger was imminent, then it very likely was. “We’ll get you to a place of safety. Hide you…”
“Are you insane?” said Calhoun. “D’ndai, whatever’s coming, it’s coming for me. I’m not going to put anyone at risk.”