Without being invited, he eased himself onto the other end of the bench she was seated on. Then again, she supposed there was no reason for invitation. She was far more the visitor here than the perennial Boothby. “If you’re concerned about rudeness,” he continued, “you should know it’s rude when an old man asks you a direct question and doesn’t get a direct answer.”
“Question?” she said blankly.
He blew air out in irritation through wrinkled lips. “They must not be doing much to teach you study skills if you can’t hold a conversation in your mind for more than thirty seconds.”
Annoyance swept through Shelby at his attitude, but suddenly she realized what he was talking about. “Oh. Damn whom.” He nodded. She half-smiled, feeling a rush of color to her cheeks. “It’s nothing. My boyfriend.”
“Your boyfriend’s nothing? There’s foundation for a permanent relationship.”
“It’s not like that. I’m not really angry at him. And it’s not his fault.”
“You’re not angry at him over something he didn’t do.” He looked at her askance. “They teach you anything about basic physics here? You pick up anything about cause and effect? There’s obviously some thing that he’s done which you feel, on some level, angry about. And you’re busy denying it. I’m wondering if you two communicate at all.”
She felt slightly offended at that. “With all respect, sir, how can you make that kind of judgment? You don’t even know us.”
“Heh.” Clearly he thought that funny. “Young lady, that’s one of the joys of being around for as long as I have. You get to know everybody. Oh, the names change. But the people themselves, the things they say and feel…that’s pretty consistent from year to year. And the best thing of all is that everybody thinks their situation is unique.”
“Believe me, mine is.”
“See?”
She had to laugh at that. The logic was pretty impenetrable. “All right,” she said, suddenly feeling challenged. “My boyfriend is a former warlord who liberated his planet while still a teenager and has been working on fitting in here at the Academy even though he wears our concept of civilization like a cape that he wishes he could toss off at any time.”
Boothby didn’t so much as blink. “So he’s an outsider, is what you’re saying, trying to become an insider.”
“Well…yes,” she admitted.
“Eh,” he shrugged. “Seen a ton of those over the years.”
“Not like this one.”
“Background doesn’t matter, young lady,” he said tartly. “Different circumstances? There’s always different circumstances. It’s the nature of the experience that’s the important thing. You remember that. That’s something they don’t teach you here. Well, they do, actually. They just don’t tell you they are, and a lot of people don’t have the brains to realize it.”
“You don’t seem to like Academy cadets a great deal.”
“A lot of you all don’t seem to like yourselves. And I’m left picking up the pieces and trying to stitch you all back together. Not hardly in my job description. They don’t pay me enough to be the one who does that. Wind up doing it anyway.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” she assured him.
He didn’t seem deterred by that. “They never do.”
She wanted either to tell him to go away, or to get up herself and leave. Instead she stayed rooted to where she was even though she didn’t know why, at which point he reminded her, “You still haven’t said why you’re so annoyed with your boyfriend.”
“I’m not.”
“You routinely damn people you’re not annoyed with? Heh. Hate to see what happens when someone finally does get on your bad side.”
“It’s not that.”
“What is it, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes. You do,” he said flatly.
She tried to deny it, but he knew they’d just be going back and forth over this all evening. She wanted to say anything to the old man just to give him an answer he’d accept so this absurdity could be ended. “I just…liked him when he needed me more. There’s so much toughness about him, so much independence, and the fact that I was helping him was my entire entry into his personality. And now that he needs me much less, I’m worried that…he…” Her voice grew softer. “…that he won’t…”
“Need you at all?” he finished.
And she realized that, in trying to say whatever was required to terminate the conversation, she’d inadvertently blurted out the exact truth of the matter. A truth that she herself hadn’t fully realized until she’d said it. She felt overwhelmed, her throat constricting. She managed a nod. Her eyes stung slightly and that annoyed the hell out of her…the annoyance surpassed only when Boothby held up a handkerchief for her to dab her eyes with. She waved it off, her jaw set.
His next question caught her completely off guard.
“Do you need him?” he asked.
She stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Funny thing,” said Boothby. “I’m much too old to mean anything other than what I say. Do you? Need him?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose. Young lady, enter into the service with that degree of conviction, and you’ll be lucky if you don’t get yourself blown up inside of a week.”
“Okay. Fine. I need him.” She hesitated and then added, “I guess.”
“You guess.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It should be.”
“I don’t want to come across as if I can’t exist without him,” she said. “I mean, how would that make me sound to you?”
“Like a young woman truly in love. As opposed to a young woman who seems more concerned over the image she projects to a total stranger than she does over what should supposedly be the most important relationship of her life.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“You said that. And I said it should be. And maybe the both of you are too young and have to decide the type of people you’re going to be individually before you’re ready to decide what you’re going to be together. And then you’ll say it’s not that simple, and if we’re going to keep having the same conversation, I’ll just get back to what I was doing.”
“Well, maybe you should,” she snapped at him, and turned away to bury her attention in her padd. She was just going to ignore him, that was all. She had far greater concerns on her mind anyway. She was rock solid on her xenobiology studies, and her computer sciences as well. She’d discovered she had a real flair for computer sciences, and that had surprised her considering she’d had only minimal interest in computers before. She was still a bit weak on stellar cartography, but not so much that it presented a problem to…to…
Her thoughts trailed off and turned back to Calhoun, and suddenly she wanted to do nothing but talk about everything that was tumbling through her mind about him. She turned back to Boothby.
He was gone.
She turned completely around on the bench, searching for some sign of him. Nothing.
Maybe he really was from Mars and had turned invisible.
Chapter Fourteen
Now
i.
There was an uneasy silence on the bridge of the Excalibur.
Not a person on the crew didn’t know what was going on. Not a person on the crew was exactly ecstatic about it.
The depth of the quiet was not lost on Calhoun. He had seen their expressions when he’d stepped onto the bridge. He knew that and said softly, “Morgan.”
She’d turned in her chair. Not for the first time did he marvel at the detail of the hologram technology. Every move, ever tic made her look like a one hundred percent human being. “Yes, Captain?”
“I need you to access the transporter systems.”
“All right,” she said.
This immediately prompted Robin to turn in her chair, and drew mildly confused looks from the others.
“Scan the Trident. Find
Ensign Janos’s life signs.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Slowly Burgoyne got to hir feet. “Captain…?” s/he began. Clearly s/he didn’t quite know what to say. As it happened. Even if s/he had, Calhoun wasn’t interested in hearing it.
“Found him, Captain,” said Morgan.
“Good. Lock on to him and beam him from there directly into the deck-five brig, please.”
Calhoun saw all the blood drain from Robin Lefler’s face. “Captain…?”
“Captain, what’s going on?” said Burgoyne.
Mackenzie Calhoun took a deep breath. He had no illusions. His crew was his crew, and he was certain they would follow him to hell and back. But they had attachments to Shelby as well. He couldn’t be anything less than candid with them or it would compromise the notion that he believed in the rightness of his actions. “I’m absconding with Ensign Janos, Burgy. They’re still on night shift over on the Trident, since their day/night is a few hours behind ours. By the time they react, we’ll be long gone.”
“Absconding?”
“Yes.”
“With…Ensign Janos.”
“That’s correct.”
“Good.”
It was Kebron who had spoken. The massive Brikar took several steps toward Calhoun, stood behind him with arms folded, and simply remained there. He was sending a very deliberate message that Calhoun didn’t actually think needed to be sent. But there it was: The most physically formidable being on the ship was backing up the captain. Endeavor to change the status quo at your own peril. Calhoun, however, didn’t believe it would come to that. At least he certainly hoped it wouldn’t.
The message was not lost on Burgoyne, but s/he merely looked Kebron up and down once, assessing the situation. Burgoyne was second-in-command. The rest of the crew would look to hir at a moment like this, to see how s/he responded.
“Does Captain Shelby know about this?” s/he asked.
I suspect she does, he thought. At the very least, she knows me well enough to see it coming. “No, Burgy,” replied Calhoun, sounding very reasonable about the whole thing. “If she knew about it, then it wouldn’t be called ‘absconding.’ It would be called ‘a prisoner transfer.’”
“Captain,” said Robin, “you can’t just kidnap Ensign Janos!”
“It’s not kidnapping,” Soleta spoke up. “It’s most unlikely that he’s being transported against his will, and kidnapping requires the unwilling—”
“I don’t care!”
“I do,” replied Soleta. “If you’re going to use technical terms, at least use the correct ones.”
“Captain, he’s aboard,” Morgan said.
Her words froze the moment, a snapshot in time, and then very quietly, Mackenzie Calhoun said, “Morgan, set course for Alpha Sigma IX. Best possible speed.”
“Immediate departure?”
“Before the Trident starts firing at us? I think that’d be best, yes.”
“Mother!” said Robin. “You can’t—!”
“Actually, Robin, I’ve very little choice in the matter,” Morgan said. “My personality is integrated with the computer’s. I have to obey direct commands from the captain.”
“Bull! He once told you to start reading out all my personal journals in order to see if you were in the computer system. You didn’t then!”
“Would you prefer I had?”
“No!”
“Well, there you are,” said Morgan, as if that explained it.
And suddenly the Trident was gone, as was the planet Danter. Naturally both ship and world were right where they had been. It was the Excalibur that had departed, hurtling at warp speed toward the destination that Calhoun had ordered.
“Burgoyne!” Robin called out. “Are you going to let him do this?”
All eyes turned to the Hermat. All eyes except Calhoun’s. He stared resolutely forward.
“He’s the captain,” Burgoyne said very softly. “Are you suggesting I endeavor to relieve him of duty?”
Kebron cracked his knuckles. Just try it, the gesture said.
Burgoyne fired a fierce look at Kebron, and just for a moment, an actual pitched battle between Zak Kebron and an angry Burgoyne didn’t appear to be quite the lopsided matchup that one would have thought. But then Calhoun put up a hand and said, “Zak…that won’t be necessary. Everyone…calm down.”
“I’m calm,” Morgan said cheerfully.
“Thank you, Morgan, I had every faith. Please. Sit.” There was a brief hesitation, and then everyone who was on their feet slowly sat. “Something has happened, and I am either very right about it, or very wrong about it. Either way, I had no desire to compromise the career of anyone on this bridge. That’s why I filtered all my orders just now through Morgan; I doubt any reprisals can be taken against her.”
“They can do a level-one diagnostic,” said Morgan. “It’s extremely intrusive and annoying. It’s like having a gynecological exam from your feet to your brain.”
“Captain, permission to forget what I just heard?” requested Soleta.
“If I can find a way, I’ll join you. Burgy…I regret having to do it this way,” said Calhoun, facing his first officer. “If I’d let you know ahead of time, then you’d have become a co-conspirator.”
“As opposed to doing nothing once the act is in progress, thereby making me an accessory after the fact?” asked Burgoyne. “Is that really any better?”
“Oh, yes,” Kebron said. “For one thing, you get sent to a much nicer penal colony. They have bowling.”
“Zak, stop helping me,” said Calhoun. “Look, people…Ensign Janos has a problem.”
“Yes. He kills people,” Robin said nervously.
“But he’s not in control of his actions.”
“That makes it all right then?”
“No, Lefler, that does not make it all right. It does, however, make it something that we can do something about. Except we’ve been told to turn him over to the Selelvians, who are not interested in doing anything about it except executing him.”
“I don’t believe it,” Soleta said flatly. “The Federation would never stand for it….”
“The Federation has already given its blessing and the Selelvians are on their way to rendezvous with the Trident.”
This brought a stunned silence. “They…did?”
“Yes, Lieutenant Lefler…they did,” Calhoun said to her. “And I suspect I know why.”
ii.
Janos was snoring soundly when he was awakened by the heavy footfall of Zak Kebron. With an infuriated roar, Janos lunged forward and slammed bodily into the force-field. Thrown onto his back, he lay there for a moment, stunned.
“Janos?” called Kebron. “Have you gone into a berserker rage again?”
“Nooo,” Janos said after a moment composing himself. “No, I just don’t do well with being startled awake.” He had been released from the restrictive chair, but he was still wearing the manacles that could shock him into senselessness. “So…back again, I see. You’re spending so much time over here, people are going to think you’re assigned to this ship full-time.”
“I am.”
Janos looked taken aback. “You’ve had yourself reassigned to the Trident?”
“No. You’re aboard the Excalibur.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. We beamed you aboard a short while ago.”
“But that’s…”
“Go ahead. Work it out for yourself.”
Janos called out, “Computer.”
“Working,” came back a female voice.
“What’s the name of this ship?”
“No, what’s the name of the man on second.”
“Morgan!” called an irritated Kebron.
“I’m sorry,” replied Morgan’s voice. “I’ve just always wanted to do that. Hello, Janos. Welcome back to the Excalibur.”
“I more or less divined that from the ‘man on second’ response,” said Janos. He sagged back against th
e wall. “But…I don’t understand. What am I doing here?”
“Long story short: We’re trying to help you.”
“I have an idea,” said Janos. “How about making the long story long. If nothing else, it’ll make the time pass faster.”
iii.
“That was fast.” Calhoun braced himself, knowing that what was about to come wouldn’t be pretty. “All right, Morgan. Put it on screen.”
The stars hurtling past them vanished, to be replaced by the infuriated face of Admiral Jellico. He was about to speak, then realized he was in full view of the bridge crew. “Captain,” he said tightly, “perhaps it would be best to take this in your ready room.”
“The ready room isn’t an option, sir.”
“Why n—? Wait. Let me guess. You’re not ready.”
“My compliments, Admiral. You learn quickly.”
“Unlike some others I could name. All right, Captain. You want this out in the open? Out in the open it is.”
“I think that’s preferable, Admiral. Far preferable,” he continued before Jellico could get a word out, “to private UFP hearings which result in rights being set aside in favor of quiet little nonpublic executions.”
“I don’t like it any better than you, Calhoun,” said Jellico. “But unlike you, I’m not out to take matters of planetary import into my own hands in contravention of our governing body. Now I’m asking you: Is the transmission I’ve received from the Trident accurate?”
“I couldn’t say, Admiral. What transmission are you referring to?”
“Do you or do you not have Ensign Janos aboard your ship?”
“Yes.”
“So you admit it.”
“Admit what?” asked Calhoun, all innocence. “You asked do we, or do we not? Obviously it has to be one or the other. Either he is or he isn’t. Everyone, after all, has to be somewhere, and since you haven’t specified—”
“Dammit, Calhoun, this isn’t a game!” thundered Jellico.
As loud as Jellico got, that’s how quiet Calhoun was. “No. It’s not,” he said icily. “It’s a life at stake. A life…and possibly much more than that.”