They didn’t even come close. Two of the huge tentacles whipped out and around, moving past them and blocking their means of exit. The rest of the creature was continuing to grow. The more that seeped into the shuttlebay, the larger it grew.
Another of the tentacles was fully formed and moving toward them.
“Lyla!” shouted Xyon. “Emergency beam-in, now! Now!”
His ship was clear on the other side of the bay, but it didn’t matter. The artificial intelligence that inhabited the ship responded instantly to Xyon’s call, and a split second later—with Xyon holding tightly to Moke—the two of them vanished into the shelter of the Lyla while the tentacle whipped around the space they’d just been occupying.
iii.
Morgan Primus and Zak Kebron reacted at almost the exact same moment—Kebron owing to the response on his board, and Morgan simply because she just knew.
“Security breach!” Kebron informed Calhoun, who was still digesting the information that they had no means of getting home. “Something’s entering the shuttlebay!”
Meanwhile Morgan jumped as if someone had hit her with an electric prod. “Something’s attached itself to the hull…no! Onto the shuttlebay doors! Some sort of containment pods. And whatever’s inside, it’s insinuating itself into the shuttlebay through some sort of molecular-displacement device.”
“A Teuthis,” said Termic in obvious surprise. “One of them survived. My apologies, Captain. That was sloppy of us. Pity…it could easily kill you all.”
“Kebron—! Security detail to the shuttlebay. Full armament.”
“Captain,” Morgan said, clear worry in her face. “Moke is down there. And so is Xyon.”
Calhoun didn’t question her pronouncement. The fact that she was essentially residing within the computer core enabled her to determine where anyone on the ship was at any given moment. Instantly he was heading for the turbolift. “Kebron, with me. Burgy, you have the conn…”
“Captain!” Burgoyne immediately said. Calhoun turned, and the look of fire in his eyes prompted Burgoyne to back off whatever s/he had been about to say. With both his adopted son and natural-born son at risk, it simply wasn’t in Calhoun’s nature to sit up on the bridge while a security detail was dispatched to try and rescue them. So instead Burgoyne merely concluded with “I have the conn, aye. Good luck, Captain.”
The doors closed behind Kebron and Calhoun, as Termic turned to Burgoyne and said, “Your captain is a dead man.”
“Fortunately, he has practice at that,” replied Burgoyne.
iv.
The security detail, ten strong, was waiting outside the shuttlebay doors. As Calhoun ran up to them, with Kebron taking up the rear, he demanded, “What are you waiting for?”
“Something’s holding the doors closed, sir,” said one of the security guards. “We’re getting a phaser torch to cut it open…”
“You do that,” said Kebron as he stepped forward, Calhoun barely getting out of the way in time. As large as Kebron’s fingers were, they could be remarkably dexterous when the situation called for it. While Calhoun looked on, Kebron carefully worked his fingers into the slot where the sliding doors met. It seemed to Calhoun that it was taking forever, even though it was only seconds.
“Got it,” muttered Kebron, and he started to pull the doors apart. Kebron’s face was routinely deadpan, and this moment was no exception, but even Calhoun could perceive mild surprise in Kebron’s visage when the doors did not immediately open for him. “Something’s holding it shut,” he said with obvious annoyance.
A security guard came running up with the phaser torch. “Kebron,” ordered Calhoun, “step out of the way.”
“Sorry, sir. Matter of pride now,” Kebron grunted, making no move to get out of the way.
“Kebron! We don’t have time for your injured pride!”
Suddenly, with a roar of effort, Kebron’s arms shoved wide and the doors ripped right out of the frame, tearing apart with an earsplitting sound of shredded metal. Glancing sidelong at Calhoun, Kebron said, “I just made the time,” as he tossed the doors aside.
That was when what appeared to be huge tentacles whipped past them, moving quickly, and one of them struck Kebron in the chest. He grabbed it without hesitation and yanked as hard as he could. Calhoun had no doubt that he could have ripped the thing off whatever it was attached to, but it was slick and slimy and so was able to yank itself out from Kebron’s grip before he could get a firm hold on it. Quickly it withdrew into the shuttlebay.
One of the security guards handed a spare phaser to Calhoun, and he called out, “Behind me!”
“Captain,” began Kebron.
“Behind me!” Calhoun repeated even more forcefully and—not remotely interested in discussing protocol insofar as the safety of a captain was concerned—charged into the shuttlebay even as he thumbed the phaser to maximum level. He had no intention of taking chances with whatever it was he was going to encounter in there.
His head whipped right and left, trying to see where the tentacles might be coming from next. He heard a loud splutch sound from the far end of the shuttlebay, as if something huge and glutinous had spilled out onto the deck. Kebron was directly behind him, and the rest of the security squad was bringing up the rear. Tossing aside caution, he shouted, “Xyon! Moke! Where are you? Where—”
Then he looked straight ahead and came to a halt. Kebron bumped into him and, save for Calhoun’s reflexes, would have knocked the captain to the floor. Calhoun looked up, and up, and had never felt that a phaser in his hand was as inadequate to a task as this one was. He needed a phaser cannon. Or perhaps photon torpedoes.
The thing was gargantuan. It did not take up the entirety of the shuttlebay in terms of its width, but its height brought it all the way up to the ceiling, a good thirty feet high. It was impossible to determine how many tentacles it had; they were in constant motion, snapping around so quickly that he couldn’t begin to get a fix on them. The center of its body was practically amorphous. It had an almost columnar look to it, but there were no eyes that Calhoun could discern, nor a mouth. Instead, its center seemed to serve mostly as something for the tentacles to be attached to. The entire creature was a sort of deathly gray, and it made no noise other than the thick smacking sound that was coming from its tentacles as they slapped against the wall or floor.
Calhoun looked around frantically, seeing no sign of either of his sons. A horrific dread rose within him as he feared that…thing…had devoured both of them. Fury burning behind his eyes, he raised his phaser and shouted, “Prepare to fire on my—!”
“Greetings.”
The pleasant, almost mellifluous sound of its voice—hon-eyed, soothing tones—resounded throughout the shuttlebay. The tentacles continued to move, and the damned thing still looked like a creature spat out by the imagination of a horror novelist. But it made no move to attack. Instead it remained exactly where it was, although Calhoun couldn’t be entirely sure that the thing was simply unable to move at all.
“Take me to the mate of this ship, please,” it continued, not sounding especially nonplussed by the circumstances within which it found itself.
Calhoun took a cautious step forward. “I am the ma…the captain. The leader of this vessel.” He kept the phaser aimed squarely at what seemed to be the middle of the thing’s centralized “stalk,” for want of a better word. “There were two of my people in here! What did you do with them!”
“Nothing,” it replied mildly. One of its many tentacles stretched over and stroked the top of Xyon’s small vessel, safely ensconced within the shuttlebay. “They retreated to this box. Not that it was necessary. I would not have hurt them.”
“Xyon! Moke!” Calhoun raised his voice. “Are you in there? Are you in the Lyla?”
There was a pause, and then Moke’s voice sounded over the small ship’s loudspeaker. “Mac! Are you out there? It’s hard to make anything out on the viewscreen in here!”
“I’m here, Moke! And
Xyon’s in there, too?”
“Yeah! But I can send him out to die if you need him to.”
“You see?” said the creature. “I would not have hurt them, as I said.”
“It’s easy to say that now,” Calhoun reminded him, trying not to let the relief he was feeling distract him from the job that needed to be done. “Considering they’ve gotten to safety and you’ve got an entire array of our weapons aimed at you.”
“It is easy to say because it is true. Just as what I say to you now is true. Do you know who I am?”
“I’m guessing,” Calhoun said slowly, “one of the Teuthis.”
“Not one of. The. The leader. I escaped from my escort vessel when we were savagely assaulted by our enemies. And you…you are visitors from outside Teuthian, are you not?”
“More like prisoners than visitors. And…outside what? What did you call it?”
“Teuthian. We named the sphere after ourselves. We felt it only fitting.”
“Yes, of course you did,” Calhoun said dryly.
He couldn’t tell if the thing was looking at him or not. The center stalk was twitching a bit, and the tentacles were in perpetual motion, but it was impossible to determine where its focus was.
“You participated in the destruction of my vessel.”
“At the time it seemed the wisest course of action.”
“Yes. I imagine it would…to you. And you have been speaking to the Bolgar, no doubt. They have spoken to you of what a rapacious, destructive race we are. How it is our desire to destroy all life in Teuthian that is not our own race.”
“Do you deny it?”
“Not at all. We’re proud of it. For far too long there were far too many races endeavoring to destroy each other. Warfare was constant. By destroying all our enemies, we will finally be able to achieve peace.”
“Peace!” Calhoun started to advance. He was immediately halted by Kebron, who placed a large and immobile hand on Calhoun’s shoulder. It was unusual for the Brikar to treat the captain in such a manner, and at first Calhoun was annoyed. But then he realized that Kebron was simply doing his job and preventing his commanding officer from getting nearer to this unknown creature than was wise for him. “Your people showed up in our…sphere…and may well have started a war!”
“We started nothing. We merely defended ourselves against the inevitable threats from the warlike races that already resided there. It was nothing more than a preemptive strike to serve our interests.”
“You’re telling me,” Calhoun said, “that you were so sure of potential danger to yourselves, that you instigated a war in order to prevent war further down the line.”
“That is correct.”
“That is completely ridiculous!”
The Teuthis leader made what sounded like a distant coughing noise. “You would be amazed how many there are who would disagree with you.”
“You could have exercised other options. You could have used diplomacy. You could have made certain that those in Sector 221-G knew you were interested in living in peace…”
“Such actions would have made us look weak. Overtures of peace are not the means by which peace is achieved. War is the means through which peace is the final result. Overtures of peace simply assure your enemies that you have no resolve. Only those willing to obliterate any who stand in their way can know true serenity.” He paused and then added, “You are an intellectually stimulating individual. Are all your race similar in their thinking?”
“Now look, you—”
“Do you wish to return to your own sphere?”
That brought Calhoun up short. He regarded the creature suspiciously and then said, “Yes. Of course we do.”
“Then aid me in destroying the Bolgar. The technology for creating our entryway to your sphere resides in the remains of the vessel that envelops us. You cannot access it. Neither can the Bolgar. But I can. Termic is the leader of the Bolgar. Help me annihilate him and his followers and I will send you home. Throw your lot in with the Bolgar, and you can resign yourself to having many more of these intellectually stimulating discussions…for you will not have much else to keep you occupied.”
There was dead silence for a moment, and then Xyon’s voice rang out over his ship’s speaker.
“If anyone’s asking me, I vote for the giant tentacled guy.”
“Me too,” Moke’s voice piped up.
Calhoun rolled his eyes. “Grozit,” he said softly. Then louder, he said, “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”
“I swear it,” the Teuthis leader replied, “on this, the most holy of our ancient relics. The symbol of my leadership.”
From somewhere within his own vast body, he pulled out what appeared to be some sort of weapon. Calhoun braced himself, ready to move fast…but then he realized what he was looking at.
It was the prosthetic gun-arm of a Borg.
“I’ve got to get me one of those,” said Kebron.
New Thallon
Excerpted from Lefler’s logs:
One of Si Cwan’s greatest strengths is his intrinsic belief that, sooner or later, he will triumph over adversity and his opponents. Even at his lowest point, even when he was reduced to stowing away on the Excalibur so he could return to Thallonian space, he was never less than one hundred percent certain that he would find his missing sister, Kalinda, and be restored to his proper place in the Thallonian hierarchy.
And that confidence radiates to all those around him. To his associates, to his allies, to every servant at every level. Ultimately, people like to believe they’re on the winning side, and when you’re in Si Cwan’s company, that confidence always seems to be well placed.
But the assault on New Thallon…it was catastrophic. It wasn’t just limited to here at the palace. Cities all over the world were devastated. Si Cwan has people off surveying the damage, trying to determine what the hell happened. In the meantime, all the survivors here look like the walking wounded. Any loud noise causes people to jump, and they look to the skies with fear and trepidation.
And when they look at Si Cwan now, there’s no reverence in their eyes. Instead there’s concern, unease…and mute accusation. They blame him for this. It’s only natural, since he blames himself. I’ve tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he looks at me angrily and says, “If not mine, whose? Fhermus didn’t make this happen. I allowed this to happen.” He burns with a cold fury that I can’t even begin to quench.
I feel as if I’m watching the slow collapse of a star. And I am just as powerless now as I would be in witnessing such an astronomical event. I don’t like this feeling. I like being able to problem-solve. I like having resources.
I have none such here. This situation cannot be allowed to continue. I have to do something.
And more and more, I’m starting to believe that that something is going to involve Kalinda…
Si Cwan stared at the reports in front of him and shook his head in annoyance.
“You summoned me, my lord?” came a familiar voice.
Seated cross-legged on the floor in his inner sanctum, he held the reports as he gestured for Robin to enter. “I know you were going for humor in your salutation, my dear…but I have to tell you, I liked the way it sounded when you said that.”
“Well, don’t get used to it.” She gestured toward the reports. “Problem?”
“I am…quite simply disgusted,” he said, shaking his head as Robin sat on the floor opposite him. “As near as has been determined, the entire assault against us was thanks to the actions of a single traitor: one Topez Anat.”
“Topez Anat.” She rolled the name around in her mouth. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“He was the latest in a long family line of service to our House,” Si Cwan told her. “You were there when I accepted his pledge of fealty. His ancestors performed their service good and true for generations. And then this bastard comes along…”
“What did he do?”
“He sabotaged us,
that’s what he did!” Si Cwan threw down the reports in disgust. “Used his position at one of our planetary defense stations to sabotage our entire defensive grid.”
“I wouldn’t think such a thing was possible.”
“It shouldn’t have been. The sophistication of what he did…” Si Cwan shook his head. “Fhermus must have bought him off. Provided him with the technology, the ability…”
“Are you sure he was responsible?”
“He had to have been. There was no one else.” He growled in disgust. “I shall issue a proclamation having his name stricken from any and all Thallonian records that have ever existed and ever will exist. He will not even be immortalized as a traitor. Instead every trace of his life will be erased. His family will not be allowed to mention him, in public or private, ever again, lest they be subject to the same disgrace that will forever accompany Topez Anat in his final voyage to the afterlife and beyond.”
“That sounds…very thorough.”
Si Cwan, still towering over her even though they were both on the floor, looked down at her. “Are you mocking me?” he demanded. “Mocking the seriousness of—”
“Mocking it? Cwan, I could have been killed by it, same as everyone else!”
“And you shall be avenged, as will those who actually died at Fhermus’s hands,” Si Cwan said angrily. “In short order we will launch a counterattack that will—”
“I just…”
“I love when you interrupt me,” he said.
Ignoring the mild rebuke, she continued, “I just…I want to make sure that you’re sure. About Topez Anat.”
“Of course I’m sure! Why wouldn’t I be sure?”
“Because things aren’t always what they seem, and this may be one of those instances.”
“Are you saying these reports are wrong?”
“I’m saying you may be looking in the wrong place if what you’re seeking is a traitor.”
“Robin,” he said with obviously dwindling patience, “you’re dancing around something, and I find it very unbecoming if for no other reason than that I don’t have time for it. It—”