Missing in Action

  “That’s right,” she said, nodding.

  Relief clearly swept through him. “A test to see if I was trustworthy.”

  “Something like that.”

  “And you didn’t really know that Soleta was a Romulan.”

  “Oh, no, I really knew,” Shelby assured him. “That was all true.”

  Hash moaned and sagged in his chair once more.

  “Hash,” she said patiently, “I understand that you have personally strong feelings about the Romulans. I don’t intend to dismiss your feelings. And you likewise have strong feelings regarding adherence to duty and regulations. That’s fine. But sometimes, things just aren’t as cut-and-dried as we would like them to be. I’m taking a huge chance in trusting you to keep my secret about Soleta. Was that trust misplaced?”

  “No, ma’am,” he sighed, shaking his head.

  “All right. That’s good to know. But you must realize that, in upholding that trust, you are yourself acting in a traitorous fashion. Do you think that you’re wrong in doing so?”

  “Yes,” he said immediately, but then added with an air of reluctance, “but I don’t hesitate to do it.”

  “Should I think the less of you for it?”

  “I’d think you wouldn’t.”

  “You’d think correctly,” Shelby assured him. “And I don’t think the less of you. So why should—”

  “Why should I think the less of Captain Mueller for performing in a manner that is not thematically different from what you and I are doing, or have done?”

  She pointed a finger at him triumphantly. “That’s exactly right, yes.”

  “Well, I…”

  She could practically see the wheels spinning in his skull. Unfortunately for Hash, the wheels were running on empty. “I don’t know, Admiral,” he finally admitted. “But I…I still feel differently…”

  “Even though there’s no reason for you to?” She shook her head. “I thought better of you than that, Hash. You’re a smart guy. I was reasonably sure that you were in command of higher brain functions than pure id.”

  “Now you make me feel as if I’ve let you down.”

  “And isn’t that how you’ve made Captain Mueller feel? Hash, the—”

  The shrill sound of the ship’s hail sounded in the room. “Bridge to Admiral Shelby,” came Mueller’s voice. “Your presence is required.”

  Shelby frowned. She knew they weren’t due yet at Priatia. She’d heard no call to red alert, so she knew that the ship wasn’t under attack. “Is it anything that can wait, Captain…?”

  Something in Mueller’s tone changed. It sounded harsher, more brittle. “Elizabeth, with all respect, get the hell up here.”

  Shock rolled over Shelby even as she sprang to her feet. “On my way,” she said, and gestured for Hash to follow her. Together they exited the room, and within moments were sprinting, not walking, down the corridor.

  ii.

  Robin Lefler was staring at the monitor screen, and she was completely unaware that she was sitting on the floor. All she knew was that everyone else on the bridge suddenly seemed much taller. When Kat Mueller reached down to her and helped her up, that was the point she realized that she had tried to sit without caring that there was no chair behind her.

  “I’ve called the admiral,” Mueller said to Robin, easing her into the command chair. It wasn’t the appropriate chair for her, but it was the most comfortable. Not that she was aware of it. “We’ll decide what to do once she gets here,” Mueller continued. “I swear to you, Robin, everything is going to be fine.”

  The turbolift hissed open and Shelby stepped out onto the bridge. Hash was right behind her, but that barely registered on Mueller. “What’s going on, Captain?” asked Shelby, but then her gaze rested upon the image on the viewscreen. “Oh my God.”

  There, frozen upon the screen, was Si Cwan. He was leaning forward, as if shouting into a camera taking his picture. Assorted Thallonians were surrounding him, holding him firmly by the arms and shoulders, although it was easy to tell from the picture that they were not having an easy time of it. There were cuts and bruises on his face and upper arms, and his clothes were torn. Clearly he’d been in some sort of vicious struggle. She realized that she was seeing something that was being broadcast from within the council chamber that had once been the heart of the New Thallonian Protectorate.

  “What the hell is happening there?” she demanded.

  “It’s the final image of a broadcast that’s been going out all over the ethernet in Thallonian space,” Arex spoke up. “We just picked it up.”

  “I want to see it from the beginning. Run it again.”

  Arex was nodding, already ahead of her. The image disappeared, briefly replaced by the customary image of space, and then the broadcast started over. They were once again in the council chamber, but the only one visible there was Fhermus. He was smiling with utter complacency, and there was a sneer in his voice when he spoke.

  “This transmission,” he began, “is intended for the few allies who are still foolish enough to support the usurping fool calling himself Lord Si Cwan of New Thallon. A man whose murderous sister coldly and calculatedly manipulated my son into marriage for the express purpose of killing him in cold blood. Whose actions resulted in death and destruction when I, as any aggrieved father would do, retaliated for his brutal actions.

  “And what was his response to that? Did he attack in kind? Did he engage in a retaliatory strike, as our traditions and way of life would expect him to do?” His mouth twisted in a sneer. “No. Instead he fed me a ludicrous tale that you will now see him repeating here.”

  The screen wavered slightly and suddenly the council chamber had representatives in it. Not a full complement; it was only about three-quarters occupied. But there was Si Cwan, addressing those who had assembled, with his arms spread wide in a flourish of oratorical style. “A monster, my friends,” he was declaring. “A creature of unfathomed origins, having taken the form of my sister for the purpose of killing Fhermus’s son and causing war between our peoples. You have seen the video record I produced of our confrontation. Now you realize that we must set aside our grievances and join as one against our mutual enemies…”

  Once again the picture shifted, and Fhermus was there alone. “Can you believe the audacity?” he demanded, as if sharing mutual outrage. “The sheer gall of the man! To present an obviously falsified recording in which, naturally, the heroic Si Cwan battles a monster that threatens his beloved New Thallon. He expected that we would become swept up in his fantasy to such a degree that we would believe the absurdities depicted herein. The fact is that Si Cwan has no stomach to retaliate and seeks an easy way out to avoid sustained battle. Ever since his bedroom ties with the Federaton—a union by which every right-thinking New Thallonian was appalled—he has been weak! Far less than he was! The people of New Thallon deserve more. Thallonian space deserves more.

  “Consider the irony, if you will. His own people cried for vengeance against their attackers. But when it became clear to them that Si Cwan would go to any lengths to avoid such an undertaking, they turned against him themselves!”

  The picture changed yet again and, sure enough, Si Cwan was under assault. There, in his throne room, Thallonians were converging upon him from all directions. Si Cwan was clearly startled by the assault, caught completely off guard. He tried to battle back, and he fought with the fury of a cornered lion. Whoever was recording it was clearly having a splendid time as he kept pushing in close, then retreating, giving a constant sense of movement to the camera. The entire battle was there, long minutes ticking away as Si Cwan took on all comers, roaring defiance.

  At first viewing, Lefler had thought it was some sort of staged event. But no. Si Cwan was mowing through his opposition, snapping their necks, gouging out eyes, ripping open jugular veins with his teeth and sending blood spurting. Somehow in the melee he got his hands on a sword, and heads were flying moments later.

  “Magnificent
,” whispered Kat Mueller in admiration. It was natural that someone like her would appreciate a battle as fearsome as this one. Mueller was, in her own way, a warrior born, and Robin Lefler was perfectly aware that Mueller and Cwan had their own history together. But she was too numb to feel even the slightest flare of jealousy over the comment. Instead she was watching as the inevitable finally occurred: A lion he might have been, but even a lion can be dragged down if too many jackals descend upon it.

  So it was with Si Cwan. He fought valiantly, he fought desperately, and it seemed he fought endlessly. But the true end did finally come, and Si Cwan was dragged down to the floor, disappearing beneath a pile of bodies. When he was finally hauled to his feet, his hands were bound in unbreakable manacles and they were busy applying similar restraints to his feet.

  “The people have judged,” came Fhermus’s voice, and then Fhermus reappeared on the screen. “They have judged Si Cwan and found him wanting. But there are still fools out there, absurd allies, who have pledged fealty to Si Cwan even in the face of all odds and reason. Don’t think that I don’t know you’re out there. Even though Cwan’s own race believes that he has betrayed their interests, and would rather throw in their lot with me, there are still Thallonians out there who stubbornly cling to the notion that they must stay loyal to him. There are other allies as well, members of other races who would rather pursue a pointless conflict against my followers and me rather than cede to the inevitable. Now is not the time for pointless, incessant conflict. Now is the time for us to come together as a true, new protectorate, before enemies both foreign and domestic endeavor to rise up against us.

  “It has taken some persuasion, but Si Cwan himself will now come forward and beg for a cessation of hostilities. So that there is no misunderstanding,” and his voice became low and threatening, “the continued existence of Si Cwan depends upon the total cooperation of all those who currently support him. Act in opposition to us, and he will die. He does not desire this, nor do we. Hear him explain it to you himself.”

  Fhermus stepped back and gestured off camera. Seconds later, Si Cwan was hauled onto the picture. He looked as if he could barely stand, and his head was hanging down. His hands and, presumably, his feet remained manacled, and he was being supported by Thallonians on either side. “Tell them, Cwan,” Fhermus said flatly. “Tell them what is at stake.”

  For a long moment, Si Cwan said nothing. Then, slowly, he lifted his head and leveled his gaze upon whoever was recording the event.

  He spit directly into the lens.

  There were angry snarls from offscreen even as Si Cwan shouted, “Don’t cooperate! Don’t believe him! Fhermus deserves to die! They all deserve to die! My people! Fhermus’s people! The lot of them should all be rotting corpses left for carrion eaters to feast upon!” He was struggling mightily in the hands of his captors as he continued to shout, “Don’t surrender! Keep fighting! My life is unimportant! They don’t deserve order! They don’t deserve a protectorate! Burn them all! Burn them to the ground! Let nothing be left of them! Let them die in final, glorious flames of destruction! Let them—!”

  That was where the image froze, with Si Cwan’s face twisted in hate and fury, shouting imprecations and calling for the death of all who had betrayed him.

  There was a long silence upon the bridge at that point. Then, without a word, Shelby headed for the ready room. Lefler followed right behind her, and Mueller brought up the rear. As she did so, she stopped, turned, and looked straight at Romeo Takahashi. “Hash, you have the conn,” she said.

  “Aye, Captain,” Hash said without hesitation as the doors closed behind her.

  iii.

  No one was seated behind the desk in the ready room. Robin Lefler was sitting in a chair, still with a dazed look upon her face. Mueller was pacing, while Shelby leaned against the desk, her legs crossed at the ankles.

  “If we continue on our course to Priatia,” Shelby said, “and it turns out that Kalinda is actually being held there—as we suspect is the case—then that will help prove what Si Cwan said was true. Plus we need to investigate the area as soon as possible if we have the slightest hope of discovering what happened to Mac.”

  “This isn’t about proving Cwan’s story to be true,” Mueller shot back, a bit more heatedly than she herself would have liked, but unable to help herself. “They could have chosen to believe him. They didn’t. They chose to rebel against him. If that’s the case, my guess is that it was something that was coming for some time. This business wasn’t the cause. It was merely the excuse they were looking for.”

  “But why turn against him when he was fighting for mutual peace?”

  “They don’t care about mutual peace,” Lefler spoke up, sounding very distant, as if she weren’t really in the room or was speaking while having an out-of-body experience. “They’re a warrior race at heart, and they have scores they want to settle. You don’t settle scores with people by sitting down in a large room and speaking nicely to each other. You settle scores by killing as many of them as is required to make them do what you want. Si Cwan understood that. So did Fhermus. The only thing is, Si Cwan tried to act against his own nature and the nature of his people because of me. It’s my fault.”

  “Oh, Robin,” sighed Shelby, “it’s not—”

  “It is,” she said more insistently. “He tried to make himself over into something he’s not because of me.”

  “Si Cwan is a grown man and makes his own decisions, and you can’t go blaming yourself for them,” said Mueller. “Frankly, I think he’d be offended if he heard you saying that he basically couldn’t make up his own mind as to what was the best way to proceed and needed you to decide it for him.”

  “I didn’t decide it for him. I never said that,” and now Lefler was on her feet, anger rolling off her. “And I resent the hell out of you right now, and I think it’d be best if you shut your damned mouth!”

  Mueller didn’t come close to backing down. “Do you make it a habit to tell the captain of a starship what to do, Lieutenant Commander?” she demanded icily.

  Before she could respond, Shelby came between them. “She doesn’t, but I do, and I’m telling both of you to back off,” she snapped. “Robin, we can’t lose sight of our mission…”

  “And I can’t lose sight of the fact that my husband is in terrible danger!”

  “What if it’s some sort of hoax? Is that possible?” asked Shelby, looking to Mueller for her opinion.

  Mueller shrugged. “I wouldn’t understand the thinking behind it. What would it accomplish? All it would do is serve to inflame an already inflammatory situation.”

  “Perhaps to throw the Priatians off guard? If their goal is to create war, then making them think they’re accomplishing their aim can…I don’t know. Draw them out, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.” But Mueller didn’t sound convinced.

  Lefler, for her part, wasn’t convinced by a long shot. “It’s a stretch at best, Admiral. And it’s not a chance we can afford to take!”

  “We can afford to take it,” Mueller reminded her, “if the admiral says we can afford it.”

  Robin ignored her, instead focusing her attention on Shelby. “Admiral,” she said, pleading in her voice, “we’re standing here discussing ‘what if’ scenarios when it may well be my husband’s life on the line.”

  “I know that. But in case you’ve forgotten…”

  “Your own husband’s life may well be on the line as well, yes, I know,” said Lefler, feeling a surge of frustration and helplessness. “I…don’t know what to say here. I don’t know that my own judgment can be trusted because it’s going to be colored by my concerns for Cwan.”

  “That would be the husband who rejected you.”

  “Didn’t yours reject you once?” retorted Lefler.

  A terrible silence descended upon the ready room at that point. Robin lowered her eyes in shame. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That…was out of line.”

  “You’re d
amned right it was,” Shelby snapped back.

  “I…can’t do more than say I’m sorry. I’ll say it again. I’ll do anything. But please, don’t let resentment against me—”

  “Quiet. Just…be quiet a moment.” Shelby rubbed her temples, feeling as if her brain were on fire. “All right…all right, just…” She inhaled deeply and then let her breath out slowly. She tilted her head back, stared at the ceiling for a moment, then brought her head forward and fixed her gaze upon both women facing her. “Here’s the bottom line: Kat. It’s your ship. I didn’t mind taking charge so I could order you to throw the ambassadors off and undertake this career-ending adventure. But we’ve got a crisis point now. Some tough decisions have to be made, and I think you’re in the best position to make them. I’m too close to the Mac side of the equation, and Robin, naturally, has her concerns tilted entirely toward Si Cwan. I think you might have a more evenhanded view on the matter. So, as ranking officer, I’m willing to defer to you.”

  “As am I,” said Robin.

  “How nice for you,” Mueller said to Robin. “However, since I outrank you, your deference one way or the other doesn’t really mean a thing, does it.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Good.”

  Mueller, for the first time in the entire meeting, ceased her pacing. Instead she stared for a time out the viewport, watching the stars flash past. She looked as if she were seeking guidance from them.

  Finally, without saying a further word to either of the women, she turned stiffly on her heel as if she were on military dress parade and walked out onto the bridge. “Mr. Gold,” she said without preamble. “Lay in a new course.”

  “New Thallon?” he said immediately.

  She didn’t even make a pretense of being surprised. “Correct.”

  As was his custom, Gold didn’t even wait to confirm that the order was to be given. Instead he simply said, “On our way.” The Trident turned gracefully and angled in the direction of far-off New Thallon.