Star Trek New Frontier - Missing in Action

  Kalinda let out a scream that did not remotely sound like it was coming from a Thallonian throat. The truncated tentacle thrashed about on the floor, while a comically waving stump jetted a thin stream of green liquid.

  The shock caused her to ease her grip on the sword ever so slightly, and it was all that Si Cwan required. He yanked it completely clear of the tentacle wrapped around it, and swung the blade in a blindingly fast arc. It cut through the tentacles wrapped around his legs, freeing them. Kalinda screeched again as Si Cwan dropped to the floor. The viscous green fluid was everywhere now, covering the floor, making it slippery and hazardous for Si Cwan to navigate. On his back, he rolled out of the way as two of the still-attached tentacles came crashing down on where he’d just been. The floor shattered beneath the impact as Si Cwan regained his feet and backed up against the wall.

  Kalinda was bent over, moaning, clutching at her bleeding stumps with the still-functioning tentacles. She twisted her head around and snarled in inarticulate rage at Si Cwan, her face twisted in hatred.

  He pulled a disruptor from his belt and, sword still in one hand, he kept the gun leveled with the other. “I didn’t want to use this on you,” he snarled. “You’re an alien species and I have no idea what it’ll do to you. It might kill you, and I want you alive. For proof and for questioning.”

  “Go to hell, Cwan,” Kalinda snapped. “I’ll be neither for you!”

  She moved quickly, and Si Cwan braced himself for another assault. But she headed in the other direction, slamming into the large, ornate window inset into the far wall. It shattered under the impact and Kalinda vaulted toward the newly created opening.

  Cursing himself for his slowness, Si Cwan fired off a shot with the disruptor. It struck Kalinda in the back, pitching her forward out the window. Si Cwan charged forward, leaping effortlessly over the large puddle of green fluid, and stopped at the opening. He held his weapon at the ready, glancing right, left, up, and down.

  All that was out there was a vast spread of grass, shadows stretching out into the night.

  Si Cwan leaped through and landed catlike ten feet below. From the ground, he spun and looked up at the roof to make sure that Kalinda—or whatever the hell she was—hadn’t taken refuge up there.

  No sign of her.

  Then he saw spots of green fluid on the ground in front of him, and immediately he started to run. There was no better hunter, no better tracker, on all of New Thallon. If it was at all possible to trail Kalinda, Si Cwan would be able to accomplish it.

  That was when the first drops of water from above hit Si Cwan in the face. “Oh no,” he muttered, but he kept running. The ground was a blur beneath his feet, yet he kept managing to pick out the green drops of liquid that marked his prey’s trail. And as the rain started to come down harder, the words Faster, faster hammered through his mind.

  His arms like pistons, his legs scissoring, Si Cwan was moving faster than he ever had in his life. But it wasn’t fast enough. The sky above him ripped open with an ear-shattering blast of thunder, and the rain began to come down in torrents. Si Cwan kept running. When seconds passed by without the slightest hint of green blood on the ground, he still didn’t slow, but he began to feel a sense of growing despair. Finally, long minutes having gone by without the slightest trace of her, Si Cwan came to a halt. He sucked in deep breaths of air, and then threw his arms to either side and screamed his frustrations to the gods. If they were there and they heard him, they didn’t especially care. Instead they sent a solid wall of rain down upon him, soaking him to the skin, making it impossible for him to see much of anything, much less a trail of blood that had been washed away.

  Furious beyond belief, Si Cwan trudged back to the palace. There he discovered stunned servants, summoned by the screams of the false Kalinda. They were looking at the tossed-around furniture, the shattered window, and the large pool of whatever-it-was that had soaked the floor. They were even more startled when Si Cwan climbed back in through the window. “Everyone out,” he snapped. “Send in some medical investigators. I want this…material,” and he indicated the green liquid, “analyzed. I want to know what it is.” When they stood there and stared at him, Si Cwan shouted, “Now!” That spurred them into movement.

  Si Cwan eased himself off the sill back into the room. He stepped carefully over the thrown furniture, righting it, and making sure not to step into any of the green liquid. Then he tapped a panel of the wall and it slid aside, revealing a computer screen.

  “Playback last ten minutes,” he said.

  He watched the video log of the previous ten minutes unspool on the computer screen. He had wanted to have the false Kalinda in hand when contacting Fhermus, but this was going to have to do: an indisputable record of his confrontation with the creature, including his battle with her and her escape into the night.

  This was going to stop the war before it went any further. The notion cheered Si Cwan…but also filled him with a deep sense of lack of justice. Fhermus had assaulted the people of New Thallon. The blood of hundreds was upon him. And Si Cwan’s response was going to be…what? To contact him and inform him that there would be no retaliation because Fhermus had been right all along?

  How the hell was he going to face his own people? For that matter, how was he going to be able to face himself?

  First things first. He had to face Fhermus. At least that would be via long distance.

  iii.

  Fhermus watched the confrontation that Si Cwan had recorded in his quarters with widening eyes. Si Cwan, via the slightly patchy but still viewable connection he had to the planet Nelkar upon which Fhermus was located, studied Fhermus in turn, trying to discern what sort of genuine reaction Fhermus was having to the shocking images.

  It had not been easy getting a communication through to Fhermus. The man who now regarded himself as Si Cwan’s archenemy had not initially wanted to speak to him at all. “The time for conversation is long past” was all his representatives would say at first. But Si Cwan had been insistent, even openly calling Fhermus a coward because he refused to receive Cwan’s communiqué. That, as Si Cwan had suspected would be the case, was sufficient to bring Fhermus online, demanding to know what nonsense Si Cwan was wasting his time with now.

  “We have both been duped,” Si Cwan had told him without preamble, and sent through the images of his confrontation with his fake sister. Fhermus had watched the transmission, at first uncertain of what he was seeing, and then gaping in astonishment when Kalinda had begun to morph into something else. Without a word to Si Cwan, he had watched the entire thing through a second time, and then a third. Si Cwan said nothing to interrupt him.

  Finally Fhermus looked directly into the screen, back out at Si Cwan. “Who else has seen this?” he asked.

  “You are the first to whom I have sent it,” Si Cwan replied.

  “This is…” He shook his head. “This is shocking. This…creature…murdered my son? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Obviously so,” Si Cwan said. “It posed as Kalinda…”

  “Do you have it in custody?”

  “As you saw in the recording, it escaped out a window. I was unable to retrieve it. But I am already putting hunting parties out to try and track it down.”

  “But why? I don’t understand…”

  “To bring us to war, Fhermus,” Si Cwan said. “To pit us against one another in a civil war that would ideally cause us to annihilate each other’s forces…thus allowing the Priatians to come sweeping in and regain all the territory they have longed for.”

  “Gods,” whispered Fhermus.

  “And I played right into it,” said Si Cwan, unable to hide his bitterness and self-recrimination. “I didn’t recognize it for what it was. If I had been more perceptive…hell, if I’d believed Xyon…none of this would have happened. The death of your son, the attack you launched upon New Thallon…”

  “You are being too hard on yourself, Cwan.”

  “And you are being t
oo generous, Fhermus.”

  Fhermus’s voice hardened. “It is not the time now for recriminations, but for actions. The council has shattered; it is time that the fifty-seven races came together once more.”

  “Imagine the irony,” Si Cwan said dryly. “Your bombs just so happened to miss the council chamber. What luck.”

  At first Fhermus didn’t respond. Then he said, “My heart is as heavy on this matter as yours is, Cwan. I do not appreciate being duped any more than you do.”

  “Then we are in accord as to what must be done.”

  “Absolutely,” said Fhermus. “I will contact my allies, as I am certain you will yours. We will set up a time to convene in the chamber, and we will plan our revenge upon the Priatians.”

  “We cannot simply go in and start bombing their homeworld, Fhermus,” Si Cwan reminded him. “Kalinda is no doubt still there, and their prisoner.”

  “I am aware of that, Cwan. Kalinda is but a helpless pawn in this matter…as was my poor son. On behalf of his memory, the woman he loved must be retrieved alive and unharmed. I will not lose sight of that priority.”

  “It is good to know that, Fhermus.”

  “As annoying as it may be to admit, Lord Cwan,” said Fhermus, “we are more effective working in unison than being at odds.”

  “I concur, Lord Fhermus,” Si Cwan replied. “I most definitely concur.”

  The Spectre

  i.

  Soleta’s first awareness was a dull thudding at the base of her skull. It was, to understate it, a most unpleasant sensation. She had the feeling that things weren’t going to be improving tremendously for her as her return to consciousness progressed.

  Slowly she opened her eyes. There was nothing but blackness. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened and closed them again a few times before finally managing to make out some light. It wasn’t because the room was dark, but rather because the impact from when she’d been struck in the head had rattled her brain and her optic nerves something fierce. It was taking a few minutes for her cranium to rewire itself so that normal sight would be available once more.

  Even so, she was able to make out enough to realize that she had been stashed down in the brig. The forcefield was humming gently on either side of the door. She didn’t bother to test its durability by throwing herself against it; she already had a good idea of what the result would be.

  She discovered she was sitting on the floor. “The least they could have done was put me on the bed,” she muttered as she gripped the edge of the bunk and pulled herself slowly up onto it.

  Soleta leaned back, resting the back of her aching head against the wall. She entered a light meditative state, taking stock of her bodily processes and making sure that everything else was operating properly.

  “Lucius,” she moaned softly, “why the hell have you done this to yourself?”

  She looked up at the com panel inset into the brig…there for convenience since, in a pinch, the brig doubled as guest quarters. The Spectre was built for stealth and espionage, not luxury.

  “This…is going to be unpleasant,” said Soleta as she reached up for the com panel.

  ii.

  In the command center of the Spectre, the mood was tense. Lucius sat in the command chair, watching the stars hurtle past them as they headed toward Romulan space.

  The entire crew had been as one in their decision to take over the vessel from Soleta. Still, now that the deed was done, Lucius found that a couple of the crewmen were having trouble meeting his eyes whenever he happened to look at them. Damn her, he thought. If only she’d been capable of stopping me. Why did I have to be right? If only…

  “Is there a problem, Aquila?” Lucius finally asked.

  “Problem? No, Tribune, no problem…”

  “That’s good to hear. Anyone else having difficulties with the current situation?”

  “Not…difficulties exactly, Tribune,” Maurus spoke up.

  “Well then what, exactly, Centurion?”

  “I just…” Maurus looked down, his control panel suddenly very interesting to him. “I’ve never served on a vessel where we mutinied before. I…would not have thought it possible on a Romulan vessel.”

  “And had we a Romulan commander,” Vitus spoke up, “it would not have happened here either. That’s because a proper commander would have known where his loyalties lay, and acted in a proper manner. She was never one of us. Not really.”

  “But does that excuse…?”

  “Yes. It does,” Lucius told him firmly, rising from the command chair, fighting off his sense of guilt, trying to purge her image from his mind. “Have you a desire to see your pregnant mate again, Maurus? Or did you really desire to float about in space indefinitely, an exile from our homeworld, serving the nomadic life that Soleta would have prescribed for you?”

  “No, Tribune. I would not,” said Maurus, still looking down.

  Lucius was standing behind Maurus. Now he reached over and patted the young Romulan on the shoulder. “When we finally get home, and you see your mate and her belly swollen with your child, you will want to thank me. And my only response to that will be to remind you that ‘Lucius’ is a superb name for a youngster.”

  Maurus smiled at that in spite of himself.

  But then Aquila said, “How will we know?”

  “Know what?” asked Lucius.

  “How will we know that we’ll still be welcome on Romulus? They tried to destroy us, remember.”

  Vitus spoke up. “Because they didn’t want this vessel in the hands of a half-breed with no loyalties to the Empire, now that the Praetor who commissioned her is no more. Our loyalties, however, stem from shared blood and shared heritage. Our loyalty will not be questioned. In fact, we’ll be heroes.” He nodded as if convincing himself. “Yes. Heroes to all. Kill us? They’ll want to hold us up as examples of—”

  “Tribune,” Maurus suddenly said. “I’m receiving a communication.”

  “From one of our people?” asked Lucius, looking at the unwavering sea of stars before them.

  “No, Tribune. From the captain. She’s using the com link that’s installed in the brig.”

  “I always meant to have that removed,” he sighed. “All right. Put her on the overhead.”

  “You’re on with her, Tribune.”

  Lucius leaned back in the command chair. “Soleta. Joining us back in the land of the living, are you?”

  “So it appears. Although I must say that we all won’t be residing in it for the same length of time, should you not rethink your rash actions immediately.”

  “Rethink?”

  “Yes, Tribune, as in release me. We ascribe all this to a panicked move, put it behind us, and go on with our lives.”

  “Panicked?” Lucius cocked an eyebrow. The others looked amused. The notion of Lucius panicking was simply too silly to contemplate. “I assure you, Legate, that this move was well considered.”

  “So we’re back to ‘Legate’ now, are we? And here I thought we had an understanding.”

  “Well, Legate, as is the case with many things, you appear to have thought wrong.”

  “Let me guess: You still intend to return with me to Romulus and utilize me as some sort of bargaining chip.”

  He nodded, even though naturally she could not see it. “Your deductive faculties remain undiminished.”

  “Considering your cowardly blow from behind, I’m fortunate my ability to speak remains undiminished.”

  Lucius shrugged. “Your ‘cowardice’ is my convenience.”

  “Indeed.” She paused, and then something in her voice changed. When her voice filtered through again, there was something akin to pleading in it. “Lucius…do not do this thing. Do not force me to retaliate.”

  Everyone on the bridge laughed. Everyone, that is, except Maurus, who looked concerned. “Legate,” said Lucius. “You’re down in the brig. We’re up in the bridge, and crewmen are throughout the ship. You’re hardly in a position for retaliation. Alt
hough if you’d like, I can post a guard or two outside the brig in order to make you feel more of a threat. I hadn’t bothered since the force screen is quite secure and we don’t have a lot of men to spare.”

  “Lucius…I’m serious here. You don’t know what you’ve done. You don’t know what you’re about to unleash. I’m giving you a chance now to do the right thing.”

  “Legate,” he sighed, “that’s what you don’t seem to comprehend. I have done the right thing. The fact that you disagree with it…and are, indeed, the victim of it…is neither here nor there.”

  “It is both here and there, Lucius. I am here, and safe. You are there, and in mortal danger.”

  “Tribune,” said Maurus with a touch of concern. “Perhaps we should…”

  “Should what? Concern ourselves over a desperate bluff?” He called out, “Legate…unless you have something useful to say, I will be ending this conversation.”

  “I have three things to say, Lucius, if you do not mind. And then I will have said all that I need to say.”

  “Say them.”

  “First, I was going to make one more, last-ditch attempt to appeal to reason. But I see now that it will be perceived by you as craven begging.”

  “True enough. Two more things, you mentioned?”

  “Yes. The second thing is that while you’re busy thinking of me as a bargaining chip, you have neglected to think of me as that which is actually the most pertinent in this situation…namely, a former science officer, for whom it is second nature to analyze her environment and learn how things work.”

  “Tribune,” Maurus said, now genuinely worried.

  Lucius waved him off. “The tattered bravado of a beaten woman,” he said in a low voice. Then, louder, he called, “And the third thing you want to say, so we can end this conversation?”