Missing in Action

  “A fair enough point, Commander,” he allowed. “Obviously, we indeed have to hang together, as you put it. But there’s…more to it than that.”

  “Really.”

  He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, looking as if he would rather be anywhere other than where he was and saying what he was about to say. “The gods work in mysterious ways…Soleta.” She blinked in surprise at the intimacy implied at his using her name, which he had never done before. She hated to think it, but she liked the way it rolled off his tongue. “I had never comprehended their motivation in assigning you the command of this prestigious vessel.”

  “In defense of the gods, I don’t think any of them actually signed the orders,” she said dryly.

  He seemed genuinely to appreciate the wryness of her remark, and actually smiled in a manner that caused the edges of his eyes to crinkle. “I’d say that’s a fair guess.” Then he looked at her with sober assessment. “The point is…I think I now begin to understand their grand plan.”

  “Do you. Then I hope you wouldn’t be opposed to running it past me, for I am admittedly a bit in the dark about it.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not immediately, no.”

  “When we were confronted by those ships…I, along with every full-blooded Romulan on the bridge, was far too trusting. You—being a half-breed—did not appraise or approach the situation in the same manner. And because you did not…because you did not simply trust those who meant to destroy us…we were able to escape. Had it been up to me, I would have taken them at their word and we would have been boarded and imprisoned by now. Imprisoned…or perhaps blown to bits. We have ties to the Romulan Star Empire that blind us to what is best for all concerned. The fact that you do not have those same ties makes you our first, best hope of coming out of this in one piece.”

  Soleta was suspicious…but she was also relieved. Lucius was saying exactly what she had hoped he’d say. So much so, in fact, that she practically had to pinch herself to assure herself that she wasn’t dreaming it. It was just that word-for-word perfect.

  Before she could respond, he continued, “Do you have any thought as to what our next move is going to be?”

  By this point her hand had moved away from her weapon and was resting easily on the desktop. “I have several thoughts…none of them ideal,” she admitted. “When one comes down to it, the proper strategy is to approach this in a logical manner.”

  “And what does logic dictate?”

  “Two options. Either we return to the Romulan Empire and take our chances…or we do not.”

  “That sounds simplistic on its face, but truly…there really aren’t any other options,” he admitted. “And since the former would appear to be closed to us, what opportunities does the latter present? If we do not return to the Romulan Empire, whom then do we serve?”

  “We serve ourselves,” she said. “We go where the mood takes us. Take on the jobs that interest us.”

  “For which side?”

  “For whatever side suits our fancy,” Soleta told him.

  “I do not know,” he said slowly, “if the crew would be enthused over dealing with certain races that we have traditional enmity toward…such as the Vulcans, for instance.”

  “Tribune, we are in an unusual situation. And that unusual situation requires unusual approaches. If the crew of the Spectre is to follow me and be essentially on its own, the least I can do is attend more closely to its wishes than a command officer would normally be required.” She leaned forward on her elbows, steepling her fingers. “My suggestion would be for all of you to submit to me a list of those races and individuals with whom you would not want to see us doing business. Barring something truly unusual, I doubt I’ll have much of a problem with any preemptive requests.”

  “What if we are asked to spy on the Romulan Empire itself. Would we do so?”

  Although his tone of voice hadn’t wavered, Soleta knew that this was a danger-laden question. She was beginning to suspect that Lucius wasn’t just speaking for himself, but instead voicing the concerns of many other crew members. They wanted to know whether the Spectre was going to act in a manner running contrary to the interests of the Star Empire.

  “I would tend to think,” she said, “that that would be one of the preemptive requests. Simply because the planet we call ‘home’ has turned away from us doesn’t mean that we are justified in turning against it.” Then she added, “Make no mistake, Lucius. It is my firm belief that the present situation is temporary only. Matters in the Romulan Empire are far too volatile to remain this way for long. Sooner or later, leadership in the Empire will change hands, and an amnesty will be extended to us. All will be forgiven…‘all’ including our loyalty to a Romulan who no longer rules, or is even alive.”

  “What about…” His voice trailed off.

  “What about what?” she prompted him.

  “What about the possibility of not waiting for matters to sort themselves out? What about the possibility of going in and trying to take charge of matters ourselves?”

  “You’re talking about a coup.”

  “I’m talking about taking actions that would very likely be in accordance with the desires of the Praetor,” Lucius replied. “I will admit a hard truth to you, Soleta. The Praetor thought very highly of me…but he thought even more highly of you. He was childless, you know. I believe he saw in you the daughter he would have liked to have. He had great plans for you, Soleta. Great plans.” He leaned toward her, speaking in a confidential tone. “Your command of the Spectre was merely the starting point. He was watching you carefully, I’m sure of it, and grooming you for…well, I couldn’t know for sure. But…”

  “Are you saying he was thinking of me to succeed him when the time came?”

  He nodded.

  The thought had never occurred to Soleta. “The council never would have—”

  “The council would have acceded to his wishes, is my opinion. Sadly, we’ll never know for certain. The point is…if we return to Romulus, perhaps we can put you into the place that the Praetor thought you deserved.”

  Soleta shook her head. “No. It’s far too soon for that. The struggle for power represents a potential bloodbath, and I’ll not thrust my crew into the midst of that in an attempt to grab power for myself.”

  “It will not be seen in that way…”

  “So say you, Lucius. But these are dangerous times, and I think it best to proceed cautiously rather than precipitously.”

  “But Soleta…”

  “Lucius,” she said patiently, “how could I remotely believe that the Romulan Empire would accept me as Praetor if I can’t get my own tribune to honor my opinion?”

  He nodded and half-smiled. “With all respect, I believe you are selling yourself short. I reserve the right to disagree with your opinion, but I honor it all the same.”

  Soleta felt as if she were seeing Lucius for the first time. There were still faint suspicions floating around in the back of her mind. But Lucius, for all the disagreements that she’d had with him in the past, had always been one of the more honorable Romulans. It was difficult for her to think that everything he’d said to her just now was some sort of elaborate ruse. She wasn’t ruling it out…but it didn’t seem likely. Still, she didn’t want to throw aside all caution and—

  And he’s damned attractive besides…

  “Quiet,” she snapped and then added quickly, “Not you,” when she saw his puzzled expression.

  Her com unit sounded. It had taken her a little while to adjust to the wristband units the Romulans used, as opposed to com links on their shirts. She touched the band and said, “Yes?”

  “Commander,” came Maurus’s voice, “we’re coming up on what appears to be a derelict in space.”

  “And…?” Derelicts were not uncommon, and she wasn’t especially interested in risking people on a pointless salvage mission.

  “It appears to be the Excalibur.”

  Her ey
es widened. All else forgotten, she said, “On my way.”

  Lucius stepped aside graciously and gestured for her to precede him. She came around her desk, her mind whirling with questions and possibilities. She stepped through the door, and it was only by the most miraculous of chances that her peripheral vision caught a sudden movement just behind her.

  She turned and started to bring her arms up defensively, but she was too slow and too late. A bottle of top-quality schnapps crashed against the side of her skull, landing with such fierce impact that the bottle shattered. Soleta’s head nearly went with it. As it was, she dropped to her knees, the world spinning, and fought off a terrible urge to vomit. The floor was wet beneath her palms, and for a heartbeat she thought it was blood before she realized that, no, it was the alcohol. She couldn’t smell it. She couldn’t focus on anything. Bits of glass scattered on the floor dug into her palms. Ludicrously, she was dwelling on the lack of wisdom involved in keeping genuine glass bottles on a space vessel, because look how easily they could shatter.

  Soleta tried to look up and the motion alone caused her to fall over completely, her shoulder thudding against the floor. She tried to stand, her feet thrashing out helplessly like an overturned tortoise’s. Desperately trying to focus her eyes, she looked up and saw what appeared to be Lucius with the neck of the bottle in his right hand. She couldn’t make out his face; it was far too blurry.

  “Ex…cali…bur?” she managed to say.

  “Not there,” replied Lucius. “A subterfuge to distract you for the moment I was going to need.”

  She fought once more to rise to her feet, but then she felt a massive weight thud against her head which, as it turned out, was Lucius’s fist. The blow sent her head thudding to the floor. She tried to command her body to move, but it refused to obey her.

  Lucius, continuing calmly, said, “Don’t worry. No one’s going to kill you. You’re too useful a bargaining chip for when we return to Romulus. So really…this is your lucky day.”

  Soleta wasn’t feeling lucky. What she was feeling was ready to pass out. And seconds later, that was exactly what she did.

  U.S.S. Excalibur

  i.

  Xyon was discovering that he was starting to enjoy the concept of making himself useful. He had spent so much of his life on his own, serving his own needs and no one else’s, that working for the greater good of a community was a novel experience. Not that it was anything he planned to make a habit of, of course. There was only so much “good feeling” that any sane person could be expected to withstand.

  As it was, he was working cheerfully in the engineering room, working in tandem with chief engineer Craig Mitchell’s staff as they sought to run systems checks throughout the ship. They had to be especially meticulous since, according to Burgoyne, there was an outside chance that miscalculations at this point—in this bizarre and anomalous realm in which they were trapped—could cause the entire vessel to blow up. That would naturally be A Very Bad Thing.

  He had just extracted some damaged data chips from their slots and placed them neatly in a container. He turned to bring them over to the repair unit and almost tripped over Moke, who was standing six inches away from him. As it was, he jumped back and nearly spilled the chips.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Moke looked up at him. Xyon thought for a moment that he was seeing something like dark clouds passing through the boy’s eyes, but chalked it up to an overactive imagination.

  “Why did you haul me into your ship?” he asked finally.

  “Because I was trying to protect you,” Xyon replied, putting the box of chips down carefully.

  “I know that.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “Because I wanted to know why you were trying to protect me.”

  Xyon stared at him, then glanced around suspiciously. “Did someone send you here to ask me this just to annoy me or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you asking me something this stupid?”

  “It’s not stupid,” Moke said a bit heatedly, and this time Xyon was almost positive there were clouds in his eyes. But once again, they abated.

  “Okay, fine, it’s not stupid.” Xyon, shaking his head, picked up the chips and headed over to the repair station. Moke followed after him like a puppy.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “That’s probably because it wasn’t much of a question.” He dumped the chips into the main slot of the repair station. They tumbled down, making a satisfyingly loud clattering.

  “It’s not—”

  “I protected you because I wasn’t about to just let you die,” Xyon said in exasperation.

  “Why not?”

  Xyon turned and stared at him. “What do you mean, why not?”

  “I mean, why not?” Moke shrugged. “You’ve got no reason to like me, or care about anything that happens to me. If I were dead, I wouldn’t be a problem for you anymore.”

  “You,” Xyon said, pointing a finger at him, “have an over-inflated sense of importance.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re not a problem for me.”

  “But…” Moke looked utterly bewildered. “Don’t you see me as a threat? ’Cause you’re really Mac’s son, but he adopted me, and we’re…”

  “Kid,” Xyon said with a heavy sigh. He rested a hand on Moke’s shoulder. “You want my opinion, for what it’s worth? You’ve got some serious problems to work out in your head. Problems involving where you were, and where you’re going to be, and what you think your place in the world is. For as long as I’m hanging around here…or, for that matter, for as long as we’re stuck here…I’m willing to help you as much as I can in sorting it all out. There’s just one thing you have to keep in mind.”

  “What?”

  He leaned forward until he and Moke were almost nose-to-nose, and then he said with an intensely grave face, “I’m sort of an asshole.”

  That prompted Moke to burst out laughing, Xyon to smile, and Chief Mitchell to snap out a comment about how engineering was no place to just stand about laughing over nothing.

  ii.

  “What are you working on?”

  The question mightily startled Xy, who had been intensely involved in his work in sickbay. He had been walking past the table where the insensate Tania Tobias had been lying, studying the test results of the project he’d been working on on the captain’s behalf. He wasn’t expecting Tania to snap out of her comatose state with no warning at all and address him in so casual a manner…or any manner.

  He turned in place so fast that he almost tripped, although his reflexes were far too good to allow that to happen. Sure enough, there was Tania staring at him, her gentle brown eyes looking slightly amused at his discomfiture. Naturally she was still locked into place on the diagnostic table. However, he could see even from where he was standing that all her vitals looked completely normal.

  Taking a step toward her, he said cautiously, “Tobias? Are you…quite all right?”

  She tilted her head back to get her own view of the diagnostics. “Well, those would seem to indicate I am, yes. Can I get up now, please?”

  “Dr. Selar!” Xy called. In sickbay, under circumstances such as these, he would never think of calling out to her with “Mother!” Professional surroundings called for professional deportment and professional address.

  The summons was still sufficient to draw Selar over. Her face was an obvious question of “What did you need me for?” but she didn’t have to voice it. She saw Tania Tobias staring at her with a cocked eyebrow reminiscent of Selar’s own lifted brow at times of uncertainty.

  “Hello, Doctor,” she said. “Request permission to return to duty?”

  “Denied,” Selar replied.

  Xy looked astounded. “What? But Mo…but Doctor,” he quickly corrected himself. “On what grounds do we keep her here? Her vitals are all back to normal.”


  “So it appears.”

  Without a word, Selar went over to Tobias and began studying the indicators on the wall. Not only that, but she pulled out a medical tricorder as if she wasn’t willing to depend entirely on the scanners. Her face, as always, remained impassive. But Xy knew her too well. There was that hint of frustration in her eyes that always surfaced whenever something medically unusual was occurring and she didn’t have a clue as to how to deal with it. Tania said nothing, choosing to keep a respectful silence as Selar went about her work.

  Finally the Vulcan doctor stepped back and studied Tania with an air that suggested she believed Tania had engaged in some sort of practical joke. “You appear perfectly normal,” said Selar.

  The comment sounded almost accusatory, so much so that Tania contritely said, “Sorry.”

  “Apologies are not necessary.”

  With brisk efficiency, Selar undid the restraints and Tania sat up, shaking out her arms. She swung her legs around and over the table and flexed her feet to get the blood circulating. Xy continued to stare at her. She returned his gaze and flashed a smile. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’m feeling much better now.”

  “But we still don’t know what was wrong with you,” replied Xy.

  “I’m sure it was nothing serious.”

  Selar eyed her suspiciously. “You made pronouncements while you were in your ‘coma’ that were eerily prescient.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I didn’t.”

  “We heard them,” said Xy.

  “Did I shout out random phrases that could have had any number of meanings?”

  Xy and Selar exchanged a look. “I suppose that’s one way of describing it,” Xy admitted.

  “Well, then! It was nothing. Are we on main shift?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’d better get up to my post…”

  “You are going no such place,” Selar told her firmly. “You are remaining here for observation.”

  “Dr. Selar, I assure you, that’s not necessary,” Tania said.