Martyr

“I do not like to be touched,” he said, not unkindly.

  “Ah,” was all Robin could think of to say as she quickly withdrew her hand. Suddenly it seemed almost like an alien appendage, just hanging there on the end of her arm. Not quite sure what to do with it, she reached around with amazingly forced casualness and scratched the back of her neck. “That’s … okay. That’s fine, I can understand that.”

  “I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

  “No, not at all. Not at all.” She cleared her throat loudly. “It was simply a … a human ritual. Don’t think about it another minute. So, there’s one more planet we’ve heard from, petitioning for the Excalibur to visit.”

  “That makes, by my count, twenty-nine.” Si Cwan let out a soft whistle. “They are very, very curious about us, Robin. They want to know what the Excalibur is up to. They want to meet our captain. And of course …” He permitted a small half smile, not bothering to finish the sentence.

  “They want to see you,” Lefler was kind enough to complete it for him. “Well, naturally. That goes without saying.”

  “Yes, but thank you for saying it. I will present the captain with a detailed information list on the candidates, with order of suggested priority. He can, of course, deviate from that priority. But to do so would be quite foolish.”

  “That likewise went without saying.”

  “So which is the twenty-ninth world?”

  She checked her readout. “Zondar.”

  A jolt of interest seemed to spark in Si Cwan. He had been seated, but now he came from quickly around his desk and leaned over Robin’s shoulder to study her data padd. She became, for some reason, rather aware of the nearness of him, and endeavored to keep her mind firmly on her work. “Yes, Zondar. I have to admit, of everyone we’ve heard from thus far, they certainly seemed to be the most excited about the prospect of meeting with the captain.”

  “I am amazed,” admitted Si Cwan.

  “Why? Why should it be so surprising that they would want to see the captain?”

  “It’s not that. I am amazed that they would want to see anyone.” Slowly he circled the interior of his quarters, stopping so often to check, totally unconsciously, for any hint of dirt or dust. “The Zondarians are an extremely acrimonious race. They always have been. They’ve been in the throes of civil war for well over eight hundred years. They would fight until they were exhausted, then work out some sort of temporary peace, which would hold just long enough for all involved to catch their breaths, and then they’d“—and he made vague stabbing motions—“have at each other again. They’re not unique in that they seem rather determined to obliterate themselves from the memory of Thallonian space, but they were certainly the most insistent little bastards that my people ever oversaw.”

  “Oversaw how?” asked Lefler. She was reluctant to ask for details, for she was always concerned about some aspects of Si Cwan’s past that she’d truly prefer not to hear about. But she didn’t have much choice in the matter. She had to know as much as possible, and she simply had to acknowledge that, as part of a ruling family, Si Cwan may very well have been party to various acts that outsiders would consider to be barbaric or heartless, but in which Si Cwan had no voice and no choice. “Did you enslave them, or—?”

  “Enslave them?” Si Cwan gaped at her in clear surprise. “Lieutenant, honestly. What do you take me for? Slavery!” He harrumphed at the very absurdity of the notion. “No, of course not.”

  “Well, that’s a relief to hear.”

  “No, we threatened to destroy them.”

  “You—” She blinked in surprise. “You what?”

  “It seemed a reasonable threat,” Si Cwan said affably. “After all, they were well on their way to doing it themselves. When my ancestors were spreading the influence of the empire and arrived at Zondar, they saw a world at war with itself. One group called the, oh“—and he snapped his fingers for a moment to jog his memory—”The Unglza. Yes, that’s it. The Unglza and the Eenza. They have assorted disputes, none of which they seemed interested in settling and, most discouragingly, many that they couldn’t even seem to remember the origins of. Now is that the epitome of pointlessness? I ask you.

  “In any event, we invited the Unglza and the Eenza to join the Thailonian Empire. They refused. So we took the next step we usually took in such cases, which was to inform them that they officially were members of the Thailonian Empire, subject to our rule, whether they liked it or not. Then we surrounded their world with about a half dozen of our heavy cruisers and informed them that, unless the fighting ceased immediately, we would wipe the planet clean of them. Our logic was that this solution, while violent, would satisfy everyone. Since they were out to destroy each other, this would save them the trouble. And we would be satisfied because we would still have conquered Zondar. Granted, no one would be alive. But their decomposing bodies would serve to fertilize the land, and if the Thailonian Empire had to wait an additional century or so in order to take possession, well, we had all the time in the galaxy. But they—as we made clear to them—did not.”

  He didn’t continue immediately, and Robin prompted, “What happened?”

  “They didn’t believe us.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Well, my great-great-great-great-grandfather gave them one more chance, and then obliterated the eastern seaboard of one of their main continents. Fired down from orbit, of course. Five hundred thousand Zondarians—perhaps more—wiped out, just like that, their shattered bodies sliding into the Great Sea. It’s said there were so many bodies in the water, one could have walked from the remains of the eastern territories to the neighboring continent of Kartoof without fear of sinking. An early and rather impressive display of Thallonian might. The Zondarians quickly saw the wisdom in acceding to our gentle guidance, and put themselves under Thallonian rule.”

  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “And do you think what he did was right? Your great-great—your ancestor. Was he right?”

  “It does not matter especially what I think. He did what he felt was right at the time. To leave them to their indulgence of slaughtering one another would likewise not have been a particularly positive endeavor, now would it?”

  “It’s called non-interference. It’s the most sacred law of the Federation.”

  Si Cwan guffawed. “A federation has luxuries that an empire does not.” But then he stopped laughing and shrugged. “Then again, my empire has fallen and your Federation yet stands. So who am I to judge, eh? Who am I?” He leaned on the edge of the desk. “The point is, even after that, we’ve always had to keep a very careful eye on the Zondarians. They would sneak skirmishes as part of their ongoing holy war with each other. They would try to deceive us at every turn. It was like trying to oversee petulant children. But they paid their taxes to us, albeit with complaining, and we had to discipline them only occasionally, so we managed. Not once, though, not ever, did they ever come to us or approach us about anything. They are very, very insular. So for them to be making overtures to the Excalibur is a most unusual gesture. The timing could not be better, either, for with the final fall of my family’s influence and control over this sector of space, full-blown civil war could easily break out on Zondar at any time, if it hasn’t already. The Excalibur is in a position to save a lot of lives, if the Zondarians are interested, for whatever reason, in meeting with Calhoun and getting his help or input.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you feel that way,” said Lefler as she glanced farther down the padd. “Because according to their message, they’re already in the process of putting together volunteers for a ‘pilgrimage’ to seek us out. They may be knocking on our back door just about any time.”

  “If that is the case, then I suggest with all due sincerity that you be certain and let them in. I’ll have that formal report together quite quickly. I don’t wish to take up any more of your valuable time, Robin.”

  “Oh, not at all,” she said quickly, rising from her seat while making
a few last minute notations on her padd. “Not at all. It was … it was very educational.”

  “For both of us,” said Si Cwan. “Robin, tell me, why did you really take on the assignment of being my liaison?”

  She stared at him with a forcefully neutral expression. Stared at the corded muscles on his dusky red forearms, the broadness of his chest, the piercing eyes, the towering presence and charisma that just seemed to radiate from him.

  “Aggressively seeking out new duties,” she told him, “is a good way to show one’s CO that one is a determined, take-charge officer who should be considered for further promotion through the ranks of Starfleet. That’s all. Why else?”

  He nodded, slowly and thoughtfully. “I had supposed it was something along those lines. Well, thank you for your time, Lieuteuant.”

  “Not a problem at all,” and she exited rather more quickly than she’d intended to.

  She headed down the corridor and greeted Commander Shelby. The first officer was heading in the other direction with what appeared to be a great deal on her mind, considering that she didn’t even acknowledge Lefler’s salutation. Robin Lefler shrugged and continued on her way back to the bridge.

  Shelby, meantime, wasn’t entirely certain where she was going until her feet, apparently of their own accord, guided her into sickbay. It was only then, as she stood there while various medics walked past her, glancing in her direction before going about their business, that she realized her body had already made the decision on behalf of her mind.

  She glanced across the sickbay and saw Dr. Selar in her office, briskly going through assorted reports. She folded her arms since she didn’t know what to do with them, and then let them dangle at her sides as she took a deep breath and then strode with authority across sickbay. For some reason that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she felt as if one leg was suddenly a bit shorter than the other. Since no one else seemed to be taking notice, she had to assume that it was her imagination.

  She stood in the doorway of Selar’s office, and at first Selar seemed to take no notice of her. Finally, however, without glancing up, Selar said, “Yes, Commander?”

  “How’d you know it was me?” she asked.

  “My hearing is sharper than the human norm, Commander, and you tend to tap your foot if you are impatient.”

  “I do?” Shelby was intrigued as she sat in a chair opposite Selar.

  “Yes. Quite rapidly, I might add. Softly enough so that it does not disturb anyone, but it is detectable to me.” She turned away from work and focused her attention on Shelby. “How may I be of service?”

  “Selar—do you mind if I call you Selar?”

  “If you are asking my preference, I prefer ‘Doctor.’”

  “Oh. Say, what do you call the person who graduates last in their medical class?”

  Selar stared at her for a long moment. “Fascinating,” she said at last. “I can easily believe that you and the captain have a history with one another. He reacted in exactly the same manner when I made the same request of him, with precisely the same joke. He was also under the impression that the answer—‘Doctor’—was somehow funny. I had once thought that humans were difficult to understand, but I have become willing to widen the parameters to non-Vulcans as a whole.”

  “It’s just that, well, I wanted to discuss something personal, and addressing you with a title seems to keep a distance between us.”

  “I find that preferable.” When she saw Shelby’s look, she added, “It is not intended as a personal slight, Commander. I assure you. I prefer distance when it comes to dealing with others. It is one of the qualities that makes me a good doctor: the ability to keep a professional distance between myself and my patients. A doctor must never become emotionally involved with her charges.”

  “Granted. But a doctor should at least show some empathy, don’t you think?”

  “Germs do not care about empathy, Commander. Nor do phaser wounds, multiple lacerations, cancer cells, stopped hearts, collapsed lungs, or any of the many calamities that can befall the human body.” Selar sat perfectly motionless in her chair. She might have been carved from marble, and Shelby was having a difficult time picturing this woman in the throes of any mating urge. Selar raised one inquisitive eyebrow and asked, “Did you come here to discuss my medical techniques?”

  “No,” Shelby said evenly. “I came to discuss your request of the captain.”

  “Yes, that would be the logical reason for your visit. Since discussion of my personal life is doubtlessly moving apace throughout the entire vessel thanks to a faulty door, there is no reason that you and I should not converse about it as well.”

  “Look, Sel—Doctor … I could come to you as a first officer. I’d like to come to you as a friend.”

  “Friend?” She tilted her head slightly. “I was unaware that you consider us friends.”

  “I would like to. You must have friends. On Vulcan, at the very least.”

  “There are … others,” said Selar after a moment’s thought. “Other Vulcans with whom I associate. We have discussions of philosophy, and we devise puzzles of logic in order to hone our skills and direct our thought in proper channels. I do not know, however, that the human word ‘friend’ would apply. There is a Vulcan term—Ku’net Kal’fiore—which roughly translates as, ‘One For Whom You Have Use.’”

  Shelby tried not to make a face, and was only partly successful. “No offense intended, Doctor, but that doesn’t sound very pleasant.”

  “I said the translation was rough,” Selar said defensively. “On Vulcan, that is actually a term of endearment.”

  “All right, fine. How I want to talk with you is somewhere between a first officer and a friend. Can we agree on that?”

  Selar let out a small sigh. “With all respect, Commander, if it will get you out of my office sooner so that I may return to my work, I will agree to virtually anything at this point.”

  “All right, fine. Here’s the thing: You’ve put the captain in a very awkward position.”

  “Not yet,” replied Selar matter-of-factly. “I do not envision utilizing anything beyond your equivalent of the standard missionary—”

  “That’s not what I meant,” she waved her hands to get Selar to stop. “You asked the captain of this vessel to have sex with you! To sire your child!”

  “Yes, I believe the news is just coming through on the Interplanetary Network. Do not worry; if we miss the broadcast, I am quite certain it will be repeated.”

  Shelby’s lips thinned. “I was unaware that Vulcans could be so sarcastic.”

  “We have many exemplary traits.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Shelby paused, and then pushed forward. “It was … inappropriate of you to approach the captain in the fashion that you did.”

  “Inappropriate for whom?”

  “For protocol. A captain should not fraternize with his subordinates.”

  “That, Commander, is illogical. Since the captain is by definition the most highly ranked individual on a ship, that point of view would require that a captain remain celibate throughout his tour of duty. That does not seem reasonable.”

  “Perhaps. Nonetheless—”

  “Besides, I am not asking for fraternization. Merely to have sex. I doubt there will even be a good deal of conversation.”

  “Doctor …” She tried to find a different way to approach it. “The captain of a ship … he’s not like everyone else. In a way, he does have to keep himself apart. Because everyone, sooner or later, will come to him for a decision … a decision that may very well have consequences for everyone else on the ship. When a captain makes those decisions, he has to be able to make them, free and unencumbered by other, irrelevant concerns. If intimacies of any sort factor into the equation, it can skew the decision into a direction that may be the wrong one.”

  “I do not quite comprehend, Commander,” said Selar. “Are you implying that, in this instance, the captain could develop some sort of attachment to me that w
ould cloud his ability to make appropriate decisions?”

  “Doctor,” she said and leaned forward, resting her hands on Selar’s desk, “trust me on this: I know Mackenzie Calhoun. He’s not the type of man who simply has casual sex. If he is intimate with a woman, he immediately considers that they then have an ongoing relationship. He’s not a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. It’s not part of who he is, or the way he was raised.”

  “The way he was raised? Commander, it is precisely because of the way he was raised that I approached the captain in this matter.”

  Shelby opened her mouth a moment, then closed it. “I’m sorry?”

  “Commander, I did not choose the captain simply because of his rank, his rugged good looks, or his ‘animal magnetism.’ As befits my heritage, I approached this in a logical manner. I researched all the males on this vessel for compatibility and cultural background that would lend itself to attending to my needs. The captain’s background on Xenex was the most thorough match.”

  “I’m not following,” said Shelby, her confusion evident on her face. “His background? You mean from Xenex?” In all their time together as a couple, Calhoun had never gone into excessive detail about his life on Xenex. From what she knew of it, it was so filled with memories of war, heartache, and loss, that even to broach the subject was painful to him. So they had not discussed it overmuch. “What about his life on Xenex can possibly apply to your situation. Xenexians don’t have Pon Farr.”

  “Granted, Commander. However, they do have their own traditions and customs. One of them is that if a woman of the tribe has become widowed, and she wishes to conceive, thereby fulfilling what is perceived as the woman’s role in the tribal order—and please”—she put up a hand to forestall exactly what she anticipated Shelby saying—“do not spend time telling me that women are capable of fulfilling many more functions besides childbirth. Since you and I have both chosen careers in Starfleet, we can take that to be a given in both our personal philosophies. The point is, if she wishes to conceive, then it is the responsibility of the tribal leader to perform the necessary services. Mackenzie Calhoun was indeed a tribal leader. Therefore I am merely asking him, in a manner of speaking, to fulfill those same obligations.”