STAR TREK - TNG - 56 - Double Helix - The First Virtue

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Star Trek - TNG 056 Double Helix - The First Virtue
Prologue
AS GOVERNOR GERRID THUL walked through the heavy wooden doors and entered the throne
room of his emperor, Tae Cwan, he reflected on how different the place looked.
After all, the three prior occasions on which Thul had visited were all elaborate state gatherings of nobles
and high-ranking officials in the empire. He was only a small part of them, though his stand-ing had grown
surely and steadily over the years from a respected general to the governorship of an outpost.
But this, the governor told himself, looking around at the cavernous, high-ceilinged hall and the splendid
furnishings... this was different. He frowned. He was all alone now, without a crowd to hide him.
And at the end of the rich, blue carpet that bisected the chamber's white stone floor, the illustrious Tae
Cwan himself waited for Thul. The blue-robed emper-or sat between two armed guards on a chair of
carved nightwood that had given his forebears comfort for more than a thousand years.
It was daunting. Or it would have been, if the gover-nor were one who allowed himself to be daunted.
But he hadn't risen to a rank of esteem and power by being timid.
Lifting his chin, Thul set foot on the carpet and approached Tae Cwan's presence. The chamber
mag-nified every sound-the flutter of his cape, the padding of his feet on the blue path, even the drawing
of his breath-as if the room weren't filled with sim-ple air at all, but something infinitely more sensitive and
unstable.
Finally, the governor reached the end of the carpet and stopped. His emperor gazed down at him from
the height of his chair, his features long and perfect, his expression a tranquil one.
Thul inclined his head out of respect-or at least that was the nature of the gesture. Then he smiled his best
smile. "I believe you know why I have come," he told Tae Cwan, his voice echoing in the chamber like
stormwaves on a rocky beach.
"I believe I do," the emperor replied without inflec-tion, though his voice echoed just as loudly.
Abruptly, he gestured-and a door opened behind him. A couple of attractive handmaidens came through,
followed by someone else in the deep blue
color that could be worn only by imperial blood. It was Tae Cwan's younger sister, Mella.
The resemblance was difficult to ignore. However, as often happens in a family, the clarity of feature that
made the brother a handsome man made the sister look plain and austere.
Nonetheless, the governor turned his smile of smiles on Mella Cwan, and the woman's eyes lit up in
response. Dark and vulnerable, her eyes were by far her best attribute.
"Proceed," said the emperor.
Thul inclined his head again. "As you wish, Hon-ored One." He paused, as if gathering himself. "I have
come to profess my love and admiration for your sis-ter, the Lady Mella."
A demure smile pulled at the corners of the woman's mouth. Unfortunately, it didn't make her any more
pleasant to look at.
"I ask you for permission to make her my wife," Thul continued.
Tae Cwan considered the governor for a moment. He had to know that nothing would make his sister
happier than the prospect of marriage to Thul. And yet, the governor noted, the emperor hesitated.
It was not a good sign, Thul knew. Not a good sign at all.
"I withhold the permission you seek," said Tae Cwan, his expression stark and empty of emotion.
To the governor, it was more than a disappointment It was tike a blow across his face, with all the pain
and shame such a blow would have awakened hi him.
The Lady Mella, too, seemed shocked by her broth-er's reply. She stared at him open-mouthed, her
face several shades paler than before.
Still stinging from Tae Cwan's words, Thul asked, "Is it possible you will change your mind in this matter,
Emperor? Or perhaps reconsider my request at a later date?"
Tae Cwan shook his head from side to side, slowly and decisively. "It is not possible," he responded
flatly.
Thul felt a hot spurt of anger, but managed to stifle it After all, it was forbidden to show excessive
emo-tion in the presence of a Cwan.
"I see," he said as calmly as he could. "And am I permitted to inquire as to the emperor's thinking in this
matter?"
"You need not inquire," Tae Cwan informed him. "I will give you the insight you want."
The emperor leaned forward on his throne, his fea-tures severe and impassive. But his eyes, as dark as
his sister's, flickered with what seemed like indigna-tion.
"I do not wish you to be part of the royal family," he told Thul. "Certainly, you have been a dedicated and
efficient servant who has made considerable con-tributions to the Empire. However, there is also
some-thing dangerous about you-something I do not entirely trust."
The governor's teeth ground together, but he said nothing. After all, it was he who had requested Tae
Cwan's response.
"Beyond that," said the emperor, "you are well inferior to my sister in station... a former military man,
unworthy of the royal family. No doubt, she would be willing to overlook this difference now. But in time,
she would come to see it as a problem, as I do."
Mella averted her eyes, her brow creased with dis-appointment. But like Thul, she was forced to keep
her emotions in check.
"These are my reasons for disallowing your request," Tae Cwan finished. "I assume I have made my
decision clear."
"Eminently," said the governor, though he felt something twist inside him as he said it. "And though I have
not been granted my request, I remain grateful for the audience, as befits a loyal servant of the Empire.
May you continue to reign in splendor, Emperor."
Tae Cwan inclined his head, his eyes sharp and alert, though the rest of his features were in repose. "Go
in peace, Gerrid Thul."
The governor cast a last, wistful glance at the Lady Mella. But with her brother's pronouncement still
hanging in the air, she didn't dare return it
Thul cursed inwardly. As his wife, the woman would have brought him immeasurable power and
prestige-more than enough for him to overlook his lack of attraction to her. But with a few words, the
emperor had taken away that dream of power and prestige.
Enduring his loss-one that was no less painful for
his never having had the thing to begin with-the governor inclined his head a third time. Then he turned
and followed the length of blue carpet to the doors and made his exit.
But as soon as the doors closed behind him and he was left alone in the hallway outside, Gerrid Thul
turned and glowered in the direction of Tae Cwan. Emperor though he might be, the governor reflected
bitterly, he had gone too far this time.
He had humiliated one of his most determined ser-vants-one who had risked much and accomplished
much on behalf of the Empire both as a soldier and as a politician. He had told Thul in no uncertain terms
that he would never be more than what he was-the administrator of a farflung outpost
The governor swore again. Maybe he couldn't ascend to power by marrying the Lady Mella, but he was
still no beast of burden to wallow in self-pity. He was intelligent. He was resourceful. And he was every
bit as Thallonian as the feared Tae Cwan.
For some time now, Thul had toyed with an alterna-tive to marrying the Lady Mella-one that would allow
him to enjoy the prominence he craved without the need to seek the emperor's blessing. With his first
option closed to him, the second came to the fore in his mind.
And the more he thought about it-the more he considered how badly he had been treated by Tae
Cwan-the more inclined he was to pursue it.
Chapter One
thul entered the REGGANA city tavern by one of its several revolving doors, his Thallonian commoner's
clothes and attached hood uncomfortably rough against his skin.
The place was loud with jangling music and crowd-ed with a surprising number of aliens. Squinting to see
through the dim lighting and the acch'ta smoke, he took a look around.
At first, he couldn't find the one he was looking for. Then he heard a familiar laugh and traced it to its
owner-a tall, lean Thallonian youth with an antic sparkle in his eyes and a mouth that seemed ready to
break into a grin at any moment. He had clearly had too much to drink.
His companion was an Indarrhi of about the same
age. Like most every member of his species, the fel-low was slender and as dark as carbon, with
deepset silver eyes, a fleecy mop of silver-white hair, and three thick ringers on either hand.
The Indarrhi also had rudimentary empathic pow-ers. Or so it was said of them in the empire.
Spotting an unoccupied table, the governor pulled out a chair and sat down. Then he sat back and
watched the Thallonian and the Indarrhi.
"Drink?" asked a gruff but feminine voice.
Thul turned and looked up at a triangular face with a single bifocal eye in the middle of its leathery
fore-head. A Banyanan, he mused. And this one had even fewer manners than most.
He considered the question that had been posed to him. "Thallonian ale," he decided. "Room
tempera-ture"
The waitress grunted. "Room temperature." She sneered, as if it were not very likely his request would be
met. Then she turned her angular body sideways and made her way back through the crowd.
Halfway to the bar, she passed the young Thallon-ian. Winking at the Indarrhi, he grabbed the Banyanan
around the waist and drew her to him. But the wait-ress was stronger than she looked. With a push, she
freed herself and continued on her way.
It didn't anger the youth in the least In fact, it might have been a game he had played with the female
before. Laughing out loud, he clapped his companion on the back and lifted a mug to his Ups.
The contents, a frothy liquid as dark and scarlet as
blood, dripped down the youth's chin and spattered the table below. Wiping himself with the back of his
hand, he swung his arm around the Indarrhi's shoul-ders and whispered something into his friend's
round-ed ear.
Yes, Thul thought disapprovingly. The Thallonian had definitely had too much to drink.
Suddenly, the youth thrust the Indarrhi away and laughed even more loudly. His companion smiled,
appearing to enjoy the joke-but not with the fervor of the Thallonian. The governor frowned.
The youth was a misfit-an embarrassment to his species. Whoever had raised him had done a stun-ningly
bad job of imparting Thallonian manners to him. Were it not for his ruddy skin and his size, one might
have wondered if he was Thallonian at all.
"Thallonian ale," said a by-now familiar voice.
Thul glanced at the serving woman as she put his drink in front of him. Then he reached into his pocket
and produced an imperial disc. "This should be enough," he said.
The Banyanan eyed it, then plucked it from the governor's hand. "It should at that," she responded. Then,
with her overly generous payment in hand, she disappeared again.
With the waitress gone, Thul returned his attention to the youth. He was just in time to see the fellow
thrust his leg out in the path of a green-skinned Orion trader.
The Orion, who had a mug in his hand, never saw the danger. With a curse, he tripped on the Thallon-
ian's foot and went flying. So did his drink-into the lap of another Thallonian, a brawny specimen with a
scar across the bridge of his nose.
Outraged, the victim rose from his seat and seized the Orion's shirtfront in his fists. With a surge of his
powerful muscles, he lifted the trader off the floor.
"Orion scum," he spat
Releasing the trader with one hand, the Thallonian drew it back and struck the Orion in the face. Thul
heard a resounding crack as the trader's head snapped back. A moment later, it lolled on the Orion's
shoul-der, and the Thallonian let him drop to the floor.
When the trader woke, the governor mused, he would have a headache. A rather considerable
head-ache.
"Damn you!" bellowed the youth, leaping to his feet. "That was my friend you bit!"
The Thallonian with the scar glanced at him warily. "The fool spilled his drink in my lap!"
"Only because you tripped him with your big, clumsy feet!" the youth roared at him.
It was anything but the truth, Thul noted inwardly. But, of course, the fellow with the scar had no way of
knowing that, and neither did anyone else in the establishment.
"Who are you calling clumsy?" the man with the scar snarled.
"You!" the youth snarled back. "Why? What are you going to do about it, you bulging sack of
excre-ment?"
The older man's eyes popped and his hand went to
his hip. "Sack of excrement, is it?" With a flash of metal, he slid a blade out of its scabbard. "How would
you like me to cut your tongue out and shove it down your scrawny throat?"
The youth grinned as he whipped his own sword free. "I would like to see you try!" he shot back.
Seeing what was about to take place, the other patrons cleared a space for the two antagonists. The
Orion, who was allegedly the cause of the youth's indignation, was the only one who remained in the
vicinity-and that was only because he was still unconscious.
The governor sighed. The youth's behavior was worse man embarrassing. It was despicable. He had
actually gone out of his way to pick a fight with an innocent man.
Still, Thul didn't do anything to stop the impending combat. He just sat there like everyone else in the
tav-ern, drinking bis ale and wondering who the victor would be.
"Serpent!" boomed the Thallonian with the scar.
"Rodent!" came the youth's reply.
Suddenly, they were at each other, their swords clashing in a blurry web of bright metal. The scarred one
thrust and the youth parried it. The youth coun-tered and the scarred man knocked his sword away.
Back and forth they went, knocking tables and chairs aside, slashing away at each other with wild
abandon. The scarred one was stronger and steadier, but the youth seemed more skilled. In time, the
gover-nor mused, skill was likelier to win out
His theory was borne out a few moments later. The scarred man saw an opening and brought his sword
down at his adversary's head, but what seemed to be an opening turned out to be a trap. The youth
side-stepped the blow, then swung his blade at his oppo-nent's shoulder.
The metal cut deeply, eliciting a spray of blood and a cry of pain from the scarred one. Then his enemy
struck again, battering the sword from the scarred one's nerveless fingers.
The older man stood there, waiting for the death-stroke that did not come. Instead, the youth smiled and
knelt beside the Orion, who had been all but for-gotten in the melee.
Some of those present might have expected the youth to drag the trader to his feet, since he had claimed
the fellow as his friend. But he didn't do that at all. He merely used the Orion's tunic to wipe his blade
clean.
Finally, he stood up again and addressed the scarred one. "Next time," he said grimly, "be careful whose
wine you catch in your lap." Then he tossed his head back and howled with laughter until the rafters rang
with it.
The scarred man, who was clutching his wounded shoulder, just glared at his adversary. He glanced at
the sword he had left lying on the floor, no doubt wondering if he might have a chance at revenge if he
moved quickly enough. But in the end, he thought better of it and slunk away.
Remarkable, Thul reflected sourly. The youth had made an art form of arrogance and braggadocio.
Downing the remainder of his ale, the governor got to his feet and crossed the room. When he was
halfway to the swordsman, the Indarrhi took note of him and said something.
The youth turned to cast a glance at the governor over his shoulder, his eyes intense in the hollows of
their sockets. At the same time, his hand wandered to the hilt of his weapon.
Thul stopped in front of him. For a moment, the youth seemed ready to gut the older man where he
stood. Then the governor tossed his hood back, revealing his identity.
Slowly, the fire in the swordsman's eyes dimmed. His features softened and his hand left his hilt "Father,"
he said, humor and surprise mingled in his voice-along with something like distrust.
Thul gazed at him. "Strong drink does not agree with you. You have looked better, Mendan."
The youth grunted scornfully and cast a sidelong glance at his companion. "Have I really?"
"And you have exhibited better manners," the governor went on, unperturbed. "Was it really nec-essary
to create a scene? To wound an innocent man? And all to prove your valor for the hundredth timer
His son sneered at him. "Among Thallonians, is the first virtue not courage? And are you not the one who
taught me that, before I was old enough to eat with a fork?"
Thul nodded. "I did," he conceded. "But one truly confident of his courage does not pick fights to
demonstrate it. He knows life will give him plenty of opportunities to show how brave he is."
The youth shot a conspiratorial look at his compan-ion, the Indarrhi. "You see how it is, Wyl? The man is
a font of wisdom." Then he turned back to the gover-nor. "I will try my best to remember what you've
taught me, Father. I have always tried to remember what you taught me... even if I am only your
bas-tard."
Thul shook his head, knowing Mendan had no intention of remembering anything. "You are my son... the
son of a high-ranking Thallonian official. It would be a pleasant surprise if you acted according-ly."
Mendan eyed him. "Why have you come slum-ming, Father? Do you know how far you are from
anything resembling the imperial court?"
Thul's hands clenched into fists at the thought of what had happened at court. With an effort, he
unclenched them. "I have come," he said, "because I have a mission for you-one that cries out for a man
who can navigate the underside of society."
The youth's eyes opened wide. "So, naturally, you thought of me. Mendan Abbis, the benighted product
of a drunken revel twenty-two years ago. And you dare lecture me about making merry!"
"If you perform this mission," the governor contin-ued evenly, "you will be rewarded beyond your wildest
dreams."
That seemed to get his son's attention. "My dreams may be wilder than you think," he said warily.
"I doubt it," Thul said with the utmost confidence. He leaned closer, grasping the back of his son's chair.
"If all goes well, Mendan, you will become the crown prince of a brand-new empire."
The bastard looked at him. "You're joking."
The governor shook his head. "I'm not."
Mendan considered the answer for a moment. Then he said, "Let's talk," and pulled over an empty chair.
"Outside," Thul insisted.
The youth gestured for the Indarrhi to come along. Then he got up and led the way out of the tavern.
The alley outside was cold and wet, but it had the very important virtue of being private. Thul pulled up
his hood against the weather and watched wisps of white steam emerge from his son's mouth.
"Well?" Mendan asked, his eyes alive with curiosi-ty. "How do you intend to make me heir to an empire?
And why would that pompous windbag Tae Cwan allow such a thing to take place?"
The governor glanced at the Indarrhi. "He can be trusted?"
The boy nodded. "With our lives. Now answer my question."
Thul's jaw clenched at his son's audacity. Clearly, Mendan had a lot to learn. "Why would Tae Cwan
tolerate the formation of an empire that would rival his own?" the governor asked. He didn't wait for an
answer. "He wouldn't-if he knew about it."
The bastard's mouth pulled up at the corners. "I see." "I won't lie to you," said the governor. "It won't be
easy to keep this from the emperor. And there are a number of other problems as well... which may not
loom quite so large if you are successful at your task."
"My... task?" Mendan echoed.
Thul shrugged. "Did you think it would all be placed in your lap?"
His son shook his head. "I suppose not."
The governor imparted the most basic details of his plan. It didn't take him long-only a few minutes.
When he was finished, he eyed Mendan and waited for his reaction.
The bastard seemed hesitant. "Why should I trust you?" he asked his father. "You've never spoken to me
this way before, like an equal instead of an inferi-or."
"An oversight for which I apologize," Thul told him. "Before, I was blinded by ambition. Now, my
eyesight is a little sharper-and I see more clearly who is important to me and who is not."
Mendan's eyes narrowed as he considered the proposition. Finally, he nodded. "All right What do you
want me to do?"
The governor told him.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Stargazer was looking forward to a most rewarding day.
His vessel was about to become the first to conduct an in-depth study of the long-vanished civilization of
Zebros IV, in the Archaidae sector. Briefly charted about six years before and ignored ever since, the
planet was reported at the time to have little to offer in terms of either strategic importance or natural
resources.
The only entry, made by one Captain Philip Ter-rance, was a brief, almost disparaging comment. "The
ruins on this world," it said, "are testament to the fact that this was once a thriving society."
But nothing more... nothing to whet the appetite of the Federation Council. That was why it had wait-ed
such a ridiculously long time to authorize a proper exploration of the place.
To each his own, Picard reflected, as he stepped onto his ship's raised transporter pad in his
Starfleet-issue envirosuit, his helmet in hand. The few images taken by Terrance's vessel might not have
inspired Terrance himself or the council, but they were enough to make the Stargazer captain's heart beat
a little faster.
And the fact that the Federation had chosen to ignore Zebros IV for so long? That was quite all right as
far as Picard was concerned. He and his crew would have an even better excuse to pick through the
ruins at their leisure, as the first sentient beings in a millennium or more to handle long-buried examples of
Zebrosian art and architecture.
But then, wasn't time one of the perquisites of lengthy deep-space missions like the Stargazer's? If Picard
and his people were really fortunate, they might even discover some bit of information that would cure a
disease or enhance a Federation technol-ogy.
But even if they didn't, Picard thought, even if all they did was gain an appreciation of Zebrosian cul-ture,
that would be all right. He would still be perfect-ly content with the result.
After all, he had been in love with archaeology for a long tune now. Since his days at the Academy,
actu-ally. And that love hadn't dimmed in all the years that had gone by since.
Yes, the captain thought, donning his helmet and locking it into place, it would be a rewarding day
indeed. And eventually, if Zebros IV was as intriguing as it appeared, it might be a wonderful month. It
was difficult not to smile at the prospect, but he managed.
His away team, he noticed, was less circumspect about its enthusiasm than he was. Tall, gangly
Lieu-tenant Cabrini, for example, was grinning almost ear to ear in the transparent dome of his helmet,
and dark-skinned Lieutenant M'ketwa was chuckling with pleasure. Ensigns Kirby and Moore
looked-and acted, Picard thought with a bit of a frown-like Academy cadets on leave as they joined him
on the transporter platform.
"I realize today's mission will be of extraordinary interest to all of us," the captain told them, his voice
muffled slightly by the confines of his helmet, "but let us conduct ourselves as scientists and not as
school-children, shall we?"
They sobered up at once, causing Picard to regret the sharpness of his words. These were some of the
brightest and most eager young people Picard had ever had the privilege of working with. Of course they
were excited. They relished the opportunity to get at those ruins, just as he did.
"After all," he added on impulse, "scientists are not compelled to come in from recess."
His quip was rewarded with a surprised but pleased smile from Ensign Kirby as they dematerialized.
Chapter Two
bin nedrach couldn't have asked for a better day.
The pale green sky that arched over Melacron V was clear and bright. The planet's two moons, Mella
and Melusha, were easily visible near the horizon. There was no wind to speak of, no precipitation, no
thermal inversions... and the dark cloud, the mete-orological phenomenon called Lai'bok that scoured the
surface of Melacron V from time to time, was not supposed to appear for several more weeks.
He had timed it brilliantly.
From his perch on the roof of a commercial edifice slated for demolition, Bin Nedrach shifted his
posi-tion. He had been in the same spot since well before dawn. However, having rehearsed his task
repeatedly, he was familiar with every inch of the old building.
There were three different ways he could swiftly flee once his task was completed, and four places where
he could effectively hide himself in the unlike-ly event that all three exits were blocked. It had been a long
time since he had had so many escape options.
Calmly, his two hearts beating slowly and regular-ly, Bin Nedrach examined his long, shiny energy rifle
again. He had checked it thoroughly already, but the Melacron had learned it was always a good idea to
double- and triple-check one's equipment.
The trilanium barrel was unmarred, nor was there any debris inside it which might clog the passage of the
energy beam. The red safety keypad glowed softly and invitingly.
Bin Nedrach pressed it with a long, sharp-nailed finger and it changed color to yellow, indicating that the
safety was off. Then he fingered it again and the safety was restored.
Good, he told himself. Working perfectly.
Faint sounds of activity wafted up from the plaza below. It was very convenient for Bin Nedrach that the
officials of Melacron V had clustered all their important buildings around the same square. Of course,
once his assignment had been carried out, it was entirely possible that the government would rethink that
policy.
Street vendors were setting up shop, their little tents creating a colorful parade of cloth. The sweet scent
of roasting shu seeds, wafted up to Bin Nedrach's single wide nostril and he inhaled deeply. The more
pungent aromas of grilled trusk flesh and
pastries filled with a variety of berries mingled with the heady smell of the shu seeds.
They made Bin Nedrach hungry. He could do with a hot stick of grilled trusk or a bag of roasted shu
seeds, he told himself. But with the iron discipline that had gotten him to the top of a dark and dangerous
profession, he put aside his body's needs.
Time enough for food-good, exotic food-when his pockets bulged with latinum, he mused. For now, he
had to concentrate all his faculties on the work at hand.
Little by little, the day grew brighter. There was more activity in the square below. Talk and laughter
floated up to Nedrach's small, furred ears and they pricked upward, listening for more significant sounds.
There was the patter of the scarf seller, as usual. But then, he was setting up for what promised to be a
brisk business with the holiday of Inseeing just around the corner. And there was the laughter of the little
girl, dancing for a few coins like a leaf borne on the wind while her father played tunes on an old,
bat-tered p'taarana.
Everything reeked of normalcy. Everything was just where it should have been. And that was very much
to Bin Nedrach's liking.
Abruptly, he heard the soft hum of an approaching hovertran. The sound made Bin Nedrach's hearts
race. His black tongue snaked out to moisten thick, dry lips.
摘要：

StarTrek-TNG056DoubleHelix-TheFirstVirtuePrologueASGOVERNORGERRIDTHULwalkedthroughtheheavywoodendoorsandenteredthethroneroomofhisemperor,TaeCwan,hereflectedonhowdifferenttheplacelooked.Afterall,thethreeprioroccasionsonwhichThulhadvisitedwereallelaboratestategatheringsofnoblesandhigh-rankingofficials...

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