Calhoun’s voice dropped dangerously. “And did you?”
“Of course not, Captain. But it didn’t matter. Mark McHenry just showed up out of nowhere and he just . . . he took her. He just . . . how did he do that, Captain?”
He realized that not everyone on the ship was aware of the changes that McHenry had undergone. “I’ll explain it later,” he said. “Calhoun out.” He heard Halliwell start to ask another question but the link shut down before she could get it out.
For a long moment, there was silence on the bridge.
Then Calhoun slammed his armrest and shouted, “Grozit!” Then, more softly, he repeated the Xenexian profanity.
The silence stretched out after that, and then Burgoyne said, “Orders, sir?”
Calhoun had absolutely no idea what to do. There was no sign of the wormhole, which was their entire reason for coming to Sector 221-G in the first place. And now, against his specific orders, Robin Lefler had departed the ship and had obviously surrendered to the Thallonians. She was being carted off to New Thallon and he had no clue what they were going to do to her.
“Senior officers to the observation lounge,” he said briskly.
This prompted confused looks between the bridge crew. “Sir?” said Burgoyne. “The conference room?”
“Yes. It’s where we go to discuss our next move.”
Burgy didn’t have to say what every single one of them was thinking: Mackenzie Calhoun did not typically discuss his next move. He simply took it. But no one was about to say that to him.
They headed to the observation lounge.
ii.
CALHOUN STARED AT the officers who were seated around the table: Burgoyne, Tobias, Xy, and Kebron. He waited for someone to say something and realized that they were waiting for him to speak. For the first time in his career, he was unsure of what to say to them. He felt as if he was letting them down.
Except that wasn’t true. He knew exactly what to say.
“We need to get Lefler back,” he said.
“Sir,” said Burgoyne, “that would mean heading to New Thallon. They know we’d be coming; they’d be ready.”
“And considering that they’re somehow able to penetrate our cloaking device,” pointed out Tobias, “we’d be battling the entirety of their fleet.”
“Yes, how the hell did they do that?” demanded Calhoun. “I thought that the cloaking device was supposed to be impenetrable.”
“It should be,” said Xy. “We tested it thoroughly. There is no reason for it to have failed while in the field.”
“For every device that’s created,” said Kebron, “there’s another to overcome it. We have to assume that somehow, in some way, the Thallonians have managed to crack the cloaking device. We could guess how, but that’s all they would be: guesses.”
“They could be doing anything to her,” said Calhoun. “We have no idea . . .”
“We do have an idea,” said Burgoyne. “And that idea is that McHenry is with her. I think we can safely surmise that if they did try anything hostile, that he would prevent any harm from coming to her.”
“Do we know that for sure?”
“It’s McHenry,” said Burgoyne. “I’m honestly uncertain we know anything for sure when it comes to him, but that’s how I felt about him while he was serving here. Now that he’s off on his own and become whatever the hell he is, that uncertainty is even more so. But, the man I once knew would never leave a fellow crew member in harm’s way. I have to believe that’s still true.”
“What choices are we left with?” said Calhoun. “There’s no wormhole. We’re in the middle of Sector 221-G, we are unable to accomplish the mission. There is simply no way that—”
Suddenly Calhoun’s combadge beeped at him. He tapped it. “Calhoun, go ahead.”
“Sir,” came Soleta’s voice. She had remained on the bridge, at her own request. She had been reluctant to join the other officers, and she wanted to continue searching for the wormhole. “I found it.”
“The wormhole?” Calhoun couldn’t quite believe it.
“Yes, sir. It just flared into existence, exactly where it was supposed to be.”
“Why did it disappear? You said it was stable.”
“I have no idea, sir. But for whatever reason, it’s back. The current readings indicate that it is going to remain in place for slightly over ten minutes, and then it may well vanish again, for I don’t know how long.”
“We’ll be right there. Calhoun out.” He hit his combadge again to close the connection and turned to the others. “So now what? We leave Lefler and her son behind, in order to go into a wormhole that we have no idea if it will reopen so we can return?”
The others nodded in unison.
“Great,” said Calhoun, “just so we are in agreement.”
“We don’t need to be in agreement, Captain,” said Burgoyne. “You lead, we follow. That’s how it’s always been.”
“And always will be,” said Kebron.
Slowly Calhoun nodded, and then he stood up. “Stations,” he said.
The officers returned to the bridge. The wormhole had returned. It hung in space, the interior of it rippling with energy. Calhoun paused a moment to look at Soleta, who was still at ops. Perhaps she felt his gaze upon her, because she turned and stared back at him and, to Calhoun’s surprise, smiled.
“Tobias,” said Calhoun, “take us in.”
The Excalibur hurtled forward and dove into the wormhole.
New Thallon
i.
SHINTER HAN COULD not believe it.
“It all worked out exactly as you said it would,” he said to Xyon.
Xyon was in Han’s office, and he was looking exceptionally pleased with himself. “Of course it did,” he replied. “Lefler was naturally going to give herself up. And my father would have no other choice except to let her do so.”
“Oh. No, that part did not turn out as you predicted, as it so happened.”
Xyon stared at him, bewildered. “What do you mean? My father didn’t turn Robin Lefler over to your men?”
“No, he did not. But she was able to turn herself over.”
“How in the world did she do that?”
“In the company of some stranger who apparently was able to transport her to our vessel through . . . I’m unclear on exactly how he accomplished it.”
Upon hearing this, Xyon was immediately suspicious. “Who was the stranger?”
“His name is . . .” Han consulted the report that had been delivered to him. “McHenry.”
“Mark McHenry?” said Xyon.
“We did not get another name.” Han frowned. “Why? What is wrong?”
Xyon had gotten up from his chair and was now standing a meter away, near the office door. “You do not know McHenry. He is . . . powerful.”
“Powerful in what way?”
“Well, he was able to transport Lefler to the ship over my father’s objections, to start out.”
“So he is a teleporter,” said Han dismissively. “That hardly makes him dangerous.”
“Believe me, there is more to him than that. I am uncertain of how much more; that is the problem. McHenry has . . . unpredictable abilities. You may have taken on more than you anticipated with him.”
“One man against the combined might of New Thallon? I am not concerned.”
“That’s exactly the point. You should be.”
“I would not worry,” Han said confidently. “We can handle him the same way we handled the Excalibur.”
“Yes, well . . . you did that, at least. So it’s destroyed.”
“Actually, no. Our fleet captain left it intact. I will be having words with him over that, I can assure you.”
Xyon closed his eyes in obvious frustration. “They left it intact. Wonderful. So between th
is and McHenry, the entire mission accomplished nothing.”
“It didn’t accomplish ‘nothing.’ We got Lefler and Cwansi. It’s what we wanted.”
“You’re not understanding,” Xyon said with increasing anxiety. “I wasn’t allowing for the idea that my father wouldn’t want to turn her over. I wasn’t allowing for the presence of some manner of . . . whatever McHenry is.”
“What are you suggesting?” said Han suspiciously.
“I am suggesting,” said Xyon, endeavoring to hold on to his patience, “that you may want to rethink this plan. That you may want to have your battleship turn around and return Robin Lefler to the Excalibur. Because you don’t know what McHenry is capable of, and the reason you don’t know that is because I don’t know that.”
Han chuckled. “Well, I appreciate your concern . . .”
“I don’t think you do, no. But you know what? This is no longer my problem.” He made a sweeping bow to Han. “If it is all right with you, I think I’ll take my leave of your wonderful world.”
“Not so fast,” said Han. “It is possible that we may have further need of you.”
“I am unsure why,” said Xyon. “If you’re ready to disregard my advice regarding McHenry, I don’t think you’re going to require it for anything else.”
“Nevertheless, it is my wish that you stay.”
“It isn’t mine.”
Han’s voice dropped in tone. “If you are remotely interested in being paid for your time and involvement, I would strongly advise that you rethink your decision.”
Xyon stared at him incredulously. “Money? You think I did this in the interest of gold-pressed latinum or some other method of payment? You could not be more wrong. I did this out of a desire to undermine my father. To exacerbate his uncertainties. To undercut his confidence. To destroy him, except your fleet commander messed that up. Being paid for my time would be appreciated, of course, but it is hardly mandatory. So if it is all the same to you, I will be departing now, and if you are disinclined to pay me, well . . . that’s your decision.”
“I’m afraid that you are wrong, Xyon,” said Han. He tapped a button on his desk and said, “Send the guards in, please.”
Immediately the doors burst open and three security guards strode in, weapons drawn. Xyon glanced at them but seemed more amused than anything else.
“Xyon,” said Han, “these gentlemen will escort you to your quarters, where you will be kept until such time that I have need for you once again.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s what you think will happen. However, I believe that you’re going to very quickly discover that not everything is going to turn out the way you think it will. Lyla, bring me home.”
“Lyla?” said a confused Han. “Who would that b—?”
He didn’t have the opportunity to finish the question because suddenly the sounds of transporter beams filled the office. As the guards watched helplessly, Xyon slowly dissolved into free-floating molecules. Seconds later, he had disappeared.
“Son of a—!” howled Han. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, sir!” said the leader of the guards, providing no useful information whatsoever.
“He must have transported to his ship,” said Han. “Alert planetary defense systems. Don’t let him leave. Bring his ship down if necessary.”
Han’s efforts to prevent Xyon’s departure, however, were doomed. Xyon’s ship was small enough that it was easily able to elude New Thallon’s best efforts to find it and bring it down. There was no one to blame for it, really. Planetary defense had been constructed to prevent New Thallon from being attacked by vessels that were large and dangerous. Xyon’s ship was the exact opposite of that and thus was able to avoid being detected.
The guards were genuinely concerned over bringing the news to Han, and their worry was justified. Han threw an absolute fit. Rather than remember the responsibilities that were incumbent upon being prime minister, he allowed himself to sink into an infuriated rage that lasted some minutes. The guards were concerned that he would extract his favorite disruptor from his desk and open fire on them.
Fortunately enough, after several minutes of ranting, Han was able to regain control of himself. He breathed deeply several times and then finally said, “Inform me when Castor Dule has arrived. I will attend to Robin Lefler and Cwansi myself.”
ii.
ROBIN LEFLER WAS becoming concerned that she had made an error.
She had been absolutely positive that volunteering to go with Castor Dule had been the right move. By taking that step, she had single-handedly saved the crew of the Excalibur. She had also spared Mackenzie Calhoun from having to make a terrible decision by making it for him.
Still, the more she had time to think about it, the more worried she became. What if I’ve made a mistake? We have no way of knowing what sort of reception we’re going to receive. What if they try to hurt Cwansi? What if they regard him as a future threat? What if I’ve just delivered my son into the hands of enemies who want to destroy him?
However, McHenry was dismissive of her concerns. “You’re overthinking this, Robin,” he said confidently. “Everything is going to work out fine.”
That had been his attitude on the warship that had transported them to New Thallon, and it was still his attitude as they were brought to the office of the prime minister.
Robin tried to remain calm and optimistic, although she was having trouble doing so. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised about that. She had a genuine knack for second-guessing herself.
They had been brought to a small house that she had been told was used to host important visitors and offworlders. She was unfamiliar with it and that alone was enough to concern her. But she decided that that was something that could wait. Cwansi was fussing, and he was clearly hungry.
She sat on a comfortable chair in the middle of the room. McHenry was standing nearby. She removed her shirt, and McHenry stared at her in confusion. “What are you—?”
Lefler raised her undergarment, exposing her breast. “Is there a problem, Mark?” she asked.
“What? No. No problem,” he said quickly, and turned his back to her. Cwansi’s mouth immediately sought out her breast and began to drink hungrily.
“Are you sure?” For the first time in a while, she actually felt amused. “You’ve seen a mother nurse before, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Absolutely. No, not really.” He shifted uncomfortably in his place. “Maybe I should wait somewhere else.”
“You honestly don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s just a breast.”
“I know.”
She hesitated. “You’ve seen breasts before, haven’t you?”
He cleared his throat loudly. “I would much prefer if we didn’t have this discussion.”
“Mark! Are you telling me that—?”
He put his hands over his ears.
“Mark?”
He began humming loudly so as to block out her questions.
Robin laughed and decided that it would be best not to pursue it. Instead she fed Cwansi for a time and then switched him to the other breast. Cwansi continued to feed hungrily until finally he had had enough. She then laid him across her lap and dressed herself quickly.
“He had enough to eat?” asked McHenry.
“Yes, he’s full. It’s fine.”
There was a knock at the door. McHenry and Lefler exchanged looks and then she called, “Yes?”
A voice from the other side of the door said, “Prime Minister Han wishes to see you, Ms. Lefler.”
“Yes, of course. Give me a moment.” She turned to McHenry. “Here we go. Time to say hello to our new host.”
“It’s going to be fine,” said McHenry. “Trust me.”
“I do trust you, Mark. It’s the rest of these bastards that I have a problem with
.”
She lifted Cwansi into her arms and rocked with him for a few moments. As he typically did shortly after eating a big meal, Cwansi drifted to sleep. Lefler nodded approvingly. She realized she wasn’t going to be able to do this for much longer; Cwansi would be too big within a month or so to continue breast-feeding. She’d have to be switching him to grown-up food.
Grown up.
For just a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what Si Cwan would have been like being his father. She suspected that he would have been all about raising the child in line with great Thallonian traditions.
Perhaps . . . perhaps this was the best place after all. It was not one that she would have chosen, but Lefler couldn’t help but feel that she needed to embrace Si Cwan’s traditions. It was not something that she would have either undertaken or sought out on her own, but now that she had been thrust into it, she found herself warming to it.
Granted, there was a great deal about the Thallonian way of doing things that she intensely disliked. That they had shown up and threatened to destroy the Excalibur if she declined to go with them had certainly not endeared them to her. But there was no going back; she had to think that now that she had gotten past that ugliness, maybe it was time to do her best with what had been put in front of her.
Once Cwansi was asleep, she shifted him onto her shoulder. He was breathing gently into her ear, and she smiled. He would never be able to know his father, but if he was raised on New Thallon with an education that would enable him to take over once he grew, that could be a goal that Si Cwan would approved of.
“Let’s go,” she said to McHenry.
They walked out of the house. Lefler had wondered if she would see a lot of Thallonians en route, but the narrow streets were fairly deserted. She wondered why that was. The paranoid part of her wondered if guards were stationed somewhere, making sure that the path between this squat building and the prime minister’s office was being kept unobstructed by any pedestrians. You really need to calm down, she thought. Why would they do that? Then she answered her own question. To make sure that no one sees you. So that no one will question it when you’re assassinated.