Calhoun stared at him. He hated to admit it to himself, but it made sense. He was sure that the Dayan vessel should have been able to withstand the assault from the D’myurj satellites and ground weaponry. The notion that they were testing what the Excalibur was capable of was the only thing that made sense.
Quentis was extending the box to Calhoun. “Take it. Read it at your leisure. See the full details of our existence. As far as you are concerned, the major accomplishment of our existence was the destruction of your people. But we did some things that were laudable. Take it, I said.”
Calhoun took the box from him. It had a bit of weight to it; he could see why Quentis had had trouble holding it steady.
“And now,” said Quentis, “I would like you to do me the service of killing me.”
Calhoun blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“I told you, I no longer have a job. I am a historian for a race that no longer has a history. My son is dead. My wife died some years ago. The rest of my race is dead, including my fellow historians. There is, quite simply, no reason for me to go on. So if you would be so kind”—and he nodded toward Calhoun’s phaser—“I would very much appreciate it if you took that weapon of yours, aimed it at me, and fired.”
“I’m not going to do that,” said Calhoun.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not an executioner.”
“You and your crew effectively aided in the extermination of my race. How is this different? Because you have to look into my eyes as you do it?” Quentis was starting to lose control of himself, his voice rising along with his ire. “Because you actually have to look upon the result of your action while you’re doing it, rather than simply the aftermath? Or are you a coward, Calhoun? Afraid to do the job when it is your own finger on the trigger?”
Calhoun said nothing, did nothing. He simply stood there.
“You disgust me,” Quentis finally said when it became obvious that Calhoun was not about to gun him down. “If you had the courage of your convictions, you would not hesitate to grant my wish. But no, you are perfectly okay with killing my people as long as you are not the one doing it. You can give the orders and have others carry them out for you. You selfish bastard.”
“That’s right. I’m selfish,” said Calhoun, and his own anger was starting to build. “And if it’s of any help, I know exactly how you feel because your people did it to me. And the fact of the matter is that I wanted to kill myself as well. You think I didn’t go through that? That’s the real reason I stayed on Xenex for three months. Not because I thought I was going to find someone. Because that’s where I wanted to die. There are many cliffs on Xenex. All over. Hundreds, thousands of kilometers high. And at the end of every single day, I stood on the edge of a cliff and stared at the drop and kept trying to find the inner strength to jump off it. Every. Damned. Day. I wrestled with the question of whether to keep on living my lousy existence or simply putting an end to it. For three months. And every day I discovered that ending my life was not an acceptable solution.”
“I’m very happy for you, Captain,” said Quentis sarcastically. “If it is all the same to you, I am not interested in spending the next three months on a voyage of self-discovery. Are you going to shoot me? Yes or no?”
“No,” said Calhoun.
“Fine. Then if you will excuse me, I am going to see if I can find a cliff to throw myself from.”
It was at that moment that the sound of the Dayan transporter sounded from nearby. It was enough to cause Calhoun’s stomach to knot up; the Dayan were unquestionably the last individuals that he wanted to see at this point. Unfortunately, it could not be helped; they were transporting to the surface, and there wasn’t a damned thing that Calhoun could do about it.
Seconds later Nyos and several of his men had materialized. They seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood, and Calhoun could readily surmise why.
“My good captain!” said Nyos with excess cheer. “How splendid to see you! And look who you have with you! The last of the D’myurj!”
“One of the two last,” said Quentis, before Calhoun could stop him. “There is a second one in the Excalibur sickbay.”
“Is there!” Nyos sounded insufferably cheered to hear that bit of information. Calhoun was starting to regret that he had not blown Quentis to bits when he had had the opportunity. “How marvelous. So which one are you?” he said to Quentis.
“I am Quentis. I am a historian.”
“Well, it seems to me that you are out of work.”
“I was just making that same point to Captain Calhoun.”
“It is a valid one. We have surveyed the area and have not uncovered any remaining vessels. It appears that we have managed to destroy the entirety of your race.”
“Except for me. And the one on the Excalibur. The one who was responsible for destroying the whole of Captain Calhoun’s race.”
“Is that a fact!” Nyos seemed insufferably pleased to have learned this particular bit of information. “Then it seems that we will be able to attend to your needs as well, Captain. We will destroy the last of the D’myurj and thus satisfy your desire for vengeance.”
“That would be most considerate,” said Quentis. He fired an annoyed look at Calhoun. “I asked the captain to kill me, but he seemed reluctant to fulfill my request.”
“I assure you there will be no reluctance on our end,” said Nyos.
He gestured toward his men and they immediately unslung their rifles.
Oh, this is not good, thought Calhoun.
Kebron immediately stepped between the Dayan and Calhoun, a gesture that Calhoun appreciated, even as he worried that it wouldn’t be of any help.
“Excellent!” said Quentis, which was about the worst thing he could have said. He tried to step around Kebron, but Calhoun reached out and grabbed him by the arm. Quentis turned and gaped at Calhoun. “They’re perfectly willing to do what you refused to do! What in the world is your problem, Captain?”
“The problem is that you’re my prisoner,” Calhoun said tightly. “And I am not going to let them gun you down!”
“So now you’re being possessive? Are you listening to yourself?”
“The D’myurj makes a valid point, Captain,” said Nyos. “We had an agreement. You were to hand this creature over to us once we had completed our work here.”
“I don’t remember our agreement in that way,” said Calhoun.
“You can remember it however you wish. The fact is that you are outmanned and outgunned. If you bring up your hand to activate your communications device, we will open fire before you can get a word out.” He dropped his voice from a threatening tone to one that sounded quite conversational. “Captain, this does not have to happen. The D’myurj wants to die. We want to kill it. And we want to kill the other one on your ship, the one who oversaw the crimes committed against your people. There is no need to turn this into some sort of battle. Especially since it will not work out well for you.”
“You’re the ones who are waving weapons around and trying to turn this into a battle,” Calhoun pointed out. “We just want to return to our ship.”
“With the D’myurj?”
“Yes,” said Calhoun, even as Quentis said, “No.”
“There seems to be some disagreement,” said Nyos. He sounded more amused than anything by the disagreement.
“I wish to die,” said Quentis. “If Captain Calhoun will not accommodate me, I am perfectly happy to have you attend to it. I suppose ultimately it would be poetically just. You killed the rest of my race, so why not me?”
“Because there are still things that you can accomplish!” Calhoun rounded on him. “You have no idea of the opportunities that may still present themselves. If you are as educated and worldly an individual as you present yourself to be, then you should realize that there are still many possibiliti
es open to you. Death is not the only option left to you.”
“And if I think it is?”
“Then you’re wrong,” said Calhoun. “If nothing else, you can be the official historian of the Excalibur.”
Quentis cocked his head in curiosity. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that our ship has no historian,” said Calhoun. “No starship does, to the best of my knowledge. The captain maintains a log that discusses in broad strokes the various missions the ship undertakes. But we could use an outsider to maintain a history of our voyages. I want you to be that individual.” He nodded toward the silver box. “You can keep it on the ship’s computers so that you don’t have to write out everything by hand.”
“That might not be so bad,” Quentis said thoughtfully.
Nyos was staring at them. “I am so pleased that you seem to have worked this all out. Unfortunately, you are forgetting the fact that we have our weapons aimed at you. And yes, you have the Brikar currently in our path, but there’s half a dozen of us and two of you. We can easily spread out and shoot you from behind. Do you truly desire to engage in a firefight that you will doubtless lose?”
Calhoun was now holding his phaser and he looked ready to open fire. “I was just going to ask you the same question,” he said defiantly.
Nyos had his weapon leveled at Kebron as if ready to try and blow a hole through him to get to Calhoun. No one said anything for what seemed the longest time. Calhoun realized that he had stopped breathing, waiting to see what was going to happen.
Then, somewhat to his surprise, Nyos raised his weapon so that the muzzle was pointing straight up. He raised a finger and said, “A moment, please.”
To Calhoun’s puzzlement, Nyos stepped back and the rest of his crew clustered around him. They spoke to each other in voices so low that Calhoun couldn’t make out what they were saying.
In a quiet voice, Quentis asked, “Were you serious about that offer, Captain?”
“Absolutely.”
“You weren’t saying it simply to prevent the Dayan from opening fire?”
“If they’re determined to open fire, Quentis, there is nothing I could say that would deter them from doing so.”
Quentis nodded, realizing the truth of that.
Nyos turned back to Calhoun and said, “We are willing to offer you a deal, Captain. One that we hope you will find accommodating.”
“I’m listening,” Calhoun said cautiously.
“We will allow you to take the historian back with you to your vessel. You may keep him. And you may also keep the other D’myurj on your ship, the one who was responsible for the death of your people. We assume that it is your intention to bring him to justice?”
“That’s correct,” said Calhoun.
“Very well. You may take the both of them with our compliments.”
“And what do you want in return?”
“Quite simple, Captain. We are interested in your point of origin. We find you a fascinating species and desire to get to know the others of your kind. It is our desire that, if we allow you to take the D’myurj with you, you willingly escort us to wherever it is you originate from.”
Quentis whirled to face Calhoun, who put up a hand to silence him. The captain was reasonably sure what Quentis was going to say, but he had no desire for the Dayan to know that they were aware of the information Quentis wanted to tell them.
Thankfully, Quentis responded to Calhoun’s unspoken cue. But the concern was visible in his eyes.
“That sounds perfectly reasonable,” Calhoun said slowly. “Once we leave the area, we will guide you to where we came from. You are, of course, welcome to join us.”
“Then feel free to depart,” said Nyos.
Calhoun nodded as he tapped his combadge. “Calhoun to Excalibur. Three to beam up.”
As the away team dematerialized, Calhoun never took his eyes from Nyos’s face.
The Dayan was smiling.
And Calhoun knew beyond question that they were in serious trouble.
New Thallon
MARK MCHENRY WAS lying in bed next to the sleeping Robin Lefler. He fiddled idly with her hair and stared into her face, amazed by how peaceful she looked. He supposed that was typical for a sleeping human, that look of contentment, but he nevertheless found it charming.
He heard Cwansi stirring in the cradle nearby. Tossing the blanket aside, he slid out of bed and walked over to the cradle, gazing down at the tiny inhabitant. Cwansi was staring up at him, his eyes newly awakened. He seemed fascinated by McHenry’s face, studying him fixedly and then raising his arms, clearly wanting to be picked up. This surprised McHenry, because Cwansi had never seemed to express much interest in him. His focus had always been solely upon Robin; he’d never seemed to notice when McHenry was there. Now his attention was directly focused on Mark. McHenry wondered if the child had any comprehension of how his relationship with Robin had just changed.
Has it changed? Really? His mind couldn’t help but wander. I mean, her coming on to you seemed more impulsive than anything else. A spur-of-the-moment lust that probably originated as much from her mourning her late husband as anything else. It may well have less to do with you as an individual than it does with the fact that you were standing here and you are friendly and had a pulse. You have no idea how she really feels about you. You could have simply been a matter of convenience. Her true priority is her son. Maybe her only priority.
He turned away from Cwansi, who was happily burbling. He walked across the room to the window so that he could stand there and watch the sun rise. As he did, he saw Robin’s sleeping body reflected in the glass. What a beautiful woman she was.
Why are we here? The question flitted through his mind, not for the first time. Granted, we came here as part of a deal to allow the Excalibur to pass through Thallonian space. But the ship is long gone. There is nothing that the Thallonians can do to force us to stay. So why the hell haven’t we left?
Yes, Robin says that she wants to be here. That she feels that this is the best place for Cwansi to grow up. That he can be helpful to everyone on this world by picking up where his father left off.
But is that really going to happen? The damned Thallonians were responsible for executing his father. It’s entirely possible that now they regret it, but who knows if that is going to be their attitude? What if Cwansi grows up here and endeavors to take over his father’s place, only to find out that they want to kill him as well?
Why don’t we just leave?
He turned around and stared at Robin. She was still sleeping peacefully. He wondered how she’d react if she woke up and discovered she was back in her cabin on the Excalibur. Yes, it would mean breaking her word to the Thallonians, but what point was there in keeping it? Shintar Han had tried to kill her. He had hired an assassin to come in and slaughter them. What possible reason was there to worry about keeping their promise to remain on New Thallon?
Cwansi began to whimper now, and the baby’s noises awakened Robin. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and glanced over to the other side of the bed to see that McHenry was no longer there. “Hey,” he whispered, and that immediately got her attention.
She smiled at him. “Hey back,” she said. She sat up, keeping the sheet modestly in front of her naked breasts. “You sleep okay?”
“Very soundly.” He walked toward her and dropped onto the edge of the bed. He reached out toward her hand and she took it, squeezing it affectionately. “And did you? Sleep okay?”
“Oh yes. Better than I have in quite a while.”
“Was I . . .” He dropped his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
“Were you what?”
“Was I . . . okay? I mean,” he added hastily, “I don’t really have a ton of experience. So I wasn’t really sure that I was, you know, making you happy.”
“Aw, Mark,” she said, and laughed. She squeezed his hand a second time. “Yes. Yes, of course. You made me very happy. What, you couldn’t tell?”
“Not really. I mean, I kind of could. Sort of. Yes. I mean, you shouted all the right things. And I mean that in only the most positive way. That is to say . . .” His voice trailed off because he saw that Robin was desperately trying not to laugh and was spectacularly failing. “What’s so funny?”
“I’ve missed this. This you. This type of you.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Ever since you returned,” said Lefler, “you’ve been this . . . this godlike being. It only seemed that you were human through happenstance. For a little while there I was having trouble relating to you as the man I used to know. But this seems more like you. Like the typical you, at least.”
“Well, thanks, I guess.”
Cwansi was becoming increasingly fussy. She glanced toward him and then said, “Would you mind?”
“Hmm? Oh, sure. No problem.” McHenry reached into the cradle and lifted the infant out of it. Then he sidled over and handed him to his mother.
Robin lowered the sheet to expose her breasts and put the baby’s eager mouth to her left one. The baby began to drink down his breakfast and she smiled down at him, stroking the side of his face as he ate.
“We could leave, you know,” he said in a low voice.
She glanced up. “What?”
“I was just thinking, we could leave. There really isn’t any reason for us to remain here.”
“We gave our word.”
“We gave our word to a murderer who tried to have us killed. I don’t see that that puts us under any obligation to remain.”
“This is Cwansi’s home. His people live here.”
“The people who killed his father. Again, I’m not seeing the need for loyalty.”
Robin paused, gathering her thoughts. “Mark,” she said finally, “I’ve given this a lot of consideration. And here’s what I’m convinced will happen: Let’s say that we do leave here. That we return to the Excalibur. That I raise Cwansi to be his own, independent young man.”