Star Trek New Frontier 04 End Game

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Captain's Log, Stardate 50927.2 A slight wrinkle has presented itself in our dealings with the Nelkarites.

I am attempting to deal with the situation in a Starfleet-prescribed manner of diligence and patience.

First Officer's Personal Log, Stardate 50927.2 We are faced with a somewhat disastrous situation. We

have brought four dozen refugees to the planet Nelkar, at the invitation of the Nelkarites, who agreed to

give them shelter. However, the Nelkarites are now using the innocent refugees in a bizarre power play.

This is a classic sectionC-5 hostage scenario which calls for careful handling, but Captain Calhoun has

displayed nothing but intransigence. If Mackenzie Calhoun thinks he can simply write off the lives of four

dozen hostages and follow it up by bombarding a planet I am simply going to have to set him straight on

that. And if I fail, then God help me, I may have to try and assume leadership of the Excalibur on the

basis that Mac is simply not fit for command .

LAHEERA

THE REFUGEES FROM THE CAISSON bleated in fear as they were herded into a large auditorium.

Pacing the front of the room was the woman whom they knew to be Laheera apparently a high

muck-a-muck in the hierarchy of the world of Nelkar. She looked at them angrily, her fury seeming to

radiate from her in such a manner that it was measurable by instrumentation. Standing next to her was

Celter, the governor of the capital city of Selinium, which was their present location.

One of the group's leaders, an older, silver-haired man named Boretskee, took a step forward and said

with slow uncertainty, "Is there a problem? We were about to be moved into our new homes when"

"Yes, you could say there's a problem," Laheera said, making no effort at all to contain her fury. It was

rather an impressive combination the golden, almost angelic hue of Laheera combined with unbridled

fury. "We have asked that the Excalibur provide us with a simple form of 'payment,' as it were.

Compensation for the trouble that we are going to provide you with a new home."

The refugees looked at each other uncertainly. Gary, who was standing next to Boretskee, said, "

'Payment'? We, uhm" She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "We had not been under the

impression that any sort of payment was going to be required. We would I mean, obviously, we would

like to cooperate. Anything that we can do"

Celter now spoke up. "We do not desire payment from you. You are merelyto be blunta means to an

end. We are not looking for monetary gain, but rather a simple barter situation. We have what you

desirea place for you to stayand the Excalibur has advanced technology which we find desirable. We

give you what you need, and we're given what we need. All benefit."

"The problem is that the Excalibur captain has refused to cooperate," Laheera cut in. "He has made it

clear that he does not care what happens to any of you. He cares for his rules and regulations and for his

own foolish pride. That is all."

"Happens to us?" Boretskee was now profoundly confused, but he knew he didn't like the sound of that.

"In what sense do you mean 'happens' to us?"

But now Gary, Boretskee's slim, brunette wife, was looking around, and a terrible suspicion was

beginning to dawn on her. "Where is Captain Hufmin?" she asked.

"Ah yes. The fearless leader of the good ship Cambon , "said Laheera, dripping disdain. "I'm afraid that

we had to make an example of him. Best solution, really. His incessant pawing of me was beginning to

get tiresome."

"An example," Gary said slowly. "You you don't mean you can't mean he's"

"If the word you're searching for is 'dead,' yes, that's correct," Laheera said flatly.

There were gasps from among the hostages. One young girl, named Meggan, began to cry. The others

were too much in shock to do much more than reel at the news.

Drawing himself up, Boretskee said sharply, "And now we're next, is that it? Is that how this goes?

Unless the starship does what you tell it to do?"

"That is correct, yes," replied Celter. Laheera nodded in silent agreement as Celter continued, "Now

listen carefully to me. You have one chance, and one chance only, to survive. Captain Calhoun has made

it clear that he is perfectly willing to let you die. It is up to you to change his mind. If you do not, we shall

kill you all. Is that clear?"

Boretskee took a step forward, his body trembling with rage. He was something of a scrapper, and his

dearest wish was to tell Laheera and Celter and every member of the Nelkarite race to simply drop dead

and do their worst. But then he saw the frightened look on his wife's face, and saw likewise the fear in the

expressions of the other refugees, reduced to nothing more than pieces in a sick power struggle between

the

Nelkarites and the Excalibur . And he could not help but feel that his was the responsibility. Calhoun had

voiced apprehension about the Nelkarites, but Boretskee and Gary had insisted that taking the Nelkarites

up on their offer was the right way to go. And now look where everyone stood. No, if anyone was going

to do something about this mess, by right it had to be Boretskee.

"All right," he said slowly. "Let me talk to him." And, noticing the sobbing young girl, he nodded his head

in her direction and said, "And her, too. Calhoun would have to be one cold-hearted son of a bitch to

ignore the pleadings of a child. Between the two of us we should be able to get him to do what you

want," and silently he added you bastards .

You bastard , thought Commander Elizabeth Shelby, but she didn't say it.

In the captain's ready room, just off the bridge, it was entirely possible that she didn't have to say it. She

stood there, facing Calhoun, who was looking thoughtfully out his observation window.

"You're not really going to do this thing," she said.

"Is that an order or a question?" he asked, his purple eyes flickering indamn himamusement.

"You cannot simply abandon the refugees to the mercies of the Nelkarites. Furthermore, you cannot then

exact some sort of vengeance by firing upon Nelkar."

"Why?" He seemed genuinely puzzled. "Which part?"

"The whole thing!"

"Indeed." He frowned a moment, and then started ticking off examples on his fingers. "If I had forced the

refugees to remain on the ship against their will, that would have constituted kidnapping. Kidnapping is

against regs. So, in accordance with regulation, I allowed them to settle on Nelkar. As such, they are

now part of Nelkar society. If the Nelkarites decide that they want to obliterate the refugees, that falls

under their prerogative, as per the Prime Directive. Correct?"

Her mouth opened for a moment, and then closed. Grimly, she nodded.

"That leaves the question of firing upon the Nelkarites. The Nelkarites are endeavoring to perform

extortion. Attempting to perform extortion upon a Federation vessel is a violation of Federation law. As

captain of the Excalibur , I am the authorized representative of Federation law for this sector. I consider

the populace of Nelkar guilty of extortion. Would you argue that they're not?"

"No," she said quietly.

"No reasonable person would. So they're guilty as charged, tried and convicted in absentia. I also have

broad latitude when it comes to deciding upon a sentence. So I sentence them to photon torpedo

barrage."

"There is no such sentence in Federation law," Shelby informed him.

"True, but that's the 'broad latitude' part."

She slammed the table with her open palms, much as he had done the other day. It caused the objects on

the surface to rattle. "There's got to be another way," she said tightly. "There's got to be. This isn't a word

game. This isn't a puzzle. This isn't a joke"

"I know it's not," replied Calhoun, and for just a moment he let the frustration he was feeling show in his

voice. He ran his fingers through his dark hair in frustration. "You don't understand, Elizabeth. I've faced

this sort of situation before."

She tilted her head slightly and looked at him in puzzlement. "During your Starfleet career?"

He shook his head. "No. On Xenex, when I was a teenager." He leaned against his viewing port, and for

the first time Shelby noticed that he looked extremely tired. "The Danteri captured the population of a

small village, marched the people out, and announced that they were going to kill them all unless we, the

leaders of the rebellion, surrendered ourselves."

"And did you?" she asked.

He grunted. "Of course not. We weren't stupid. They would have killed us immediately. I wish you could

have seen those people, those captives. Down to the smallest child, every one of them was filled with

Xenexian pride. Their heads held high, their faces unflinching."

"And you just just stood by and let them all be slaughtered?"

"No," he said quietly. "We attacked. We attacked the Danteri while they were in the village. As we

expected, they tried to use the citizens as shields. And there were the Xenexian hostages, shouting loudly,

'Shoot through us! Don't let them hide behind us! Don't inflict that shame on us!'"

"But you didn't really shoot through them" But then she saw the look in his eyes, and her voice caught.

"My God, you did. You killed them all."

"No, not all. Most of them survived, a happenstance attributable to good aim on our part and the Danteri

clearly being unprepared for their strategy not to work. To do otherwise would have been to bring

dishonor among the Xenexians. They were willing to die for the cause."

"Well, that's really great, Mac," said Shelby, beginning to pace. "That's just swell. But here's the problem

The people stuck on Nelkar aren't out to be martyrs. They're victims who just happen to be in the wrong

place at the wrong time."

"As were the villagers," replied Mackenzie Calhoun. "They didn't live their lives eagerly awaiting a violent

death. But they were chosen by oppressors to be made pawns. If you let people with that mindset bend

you to their will if you give in, even once it encourages further such actions."

"And it disempowers you, because you know you can be manipulated."

He nodded. "Yes. I'm pleased you understand."

Shelby stroked her chin for a moment, and then said, "If you don't mind my asking who gave the order?

To shoot through those hostages, I mean?"

She knew the answer even before he said it "I did."

"And how did that make you feel? Knowing that they might be killed when you opened fire?"

"I had no feelings about it one way or the other," he said quietly. "I couldn't afford to."

"And you have no feeling about these hostages now? These people trapped below us on Nelkar?"

"None."

"I don't believe that," she said flatly. "The Mackenzie Calhoun I know wouldn't be uncaring. Wouldn't be

writing them off."

He had looked away from her, but now he turned to n face her and said, in a very quiet voice, "Then I

guess you didn't know me all too well."

"That may have been why we broke up," she mused. Then, after a moment's further thought, she said,

"Captain, there has to be some other way. Some middle ground. Some way to proceed between the

extremes of simply writing off the hostages as lost, and giving in to the Nelkarites completely. Perhaps if

you study precedents"

"Precedents?" He had a slight touch of amusement in his voice, which for some reason she found

remarkably annoying. "Such as ?"

"I don't know specifically. Actions taken by other captains, other commanders. Some way that will

enable you to find guidance. You have to find a way to work with these people on some sort of equitable

basis."

"I understand what you're saying, Elizabeth. And there may very well be merit to it. Still, I"

At that moment, his comm badge beeped. He tapped it and said, "Calhoun here. Speak to me."

"Captain," came Robin Lefler's voice, "we are receiving an incoming hail from the Nelkarites."

Calhoun cast a quick glance at Shelby, but she was poker-faced. "On my way" was all he said, and he

moved quickly past Shelby out onto the bridge. His crew, although maintaining their professional

demeanor, nonetheless looked a bit apprehensive. He knew that they had considered his pronouncement

a short while ago to be somewhat disconcerting. The concept of sacrificing the hostages in the face of a

greater concern it was difficult for them to grasp. They were good people, a good crew but, in this

instance, perhaps a bit overcompassionate. It was not something that he could afford to let influence his

decisions, however. "Put them on visual," he said crisply.

A moment later, the image of Laheera appeared, and with her was Boretskee.

"There are some people here who wish to speak with you, Captain," Laheera informed him. She nodded

to Boretskee.

Boretskee looked as uncomfortable as a person possibly could. He cleared his throat loudly and said,

"Captain, I understand that we that is to say, that you have been placed in a rather difficult position. I we

regret this inconvenience and"

Laheera made an impatient noise. He tossed a look at her that could have cracked castrodinium, and

then resumed what he was saying. "There are innocent people down here, Captain. People whose lives

are depending upon what you will do next."

Laheera now spoke up. "And do not get any charming ideas about using your transporters to solve the

difficulties, Captain. We've scattered the hostages throughout the city. They're at no one location from

which you can rescue them. For that matter, if you attempt to lock on to our transmission and, say, beam

me out so that I can be used as a hostage they will be killed. You've said that, as far as you are

concerned, they are dead, and you will act accordingly. We both know it is easy to say such things. I

invite you, however, to look upon the face of the 'dead.'"

She reached out of range of the viewer and dragged someone else into the picture. It was Meggan, the

little girl with her hair tied back in a large bun, her eyes as deep as the depths of space.

Calhoun looked neither right nor left, did not look at any of his people. Instead he kept his gaze leveled

on the screen. When Laheera spoke it was with grim defianceand yet that annoying voice of hers, with its

musicality, made her life-and-death terms seem almost charming to hear. "Now then, Captain your

stubborn nature might be slightly more reasonable when the depths of your situation become apparent.

You have said that you will open fire on us if we slay the hostages. My question to you is Do you really

have the nerve to stand there and let us kill them? You have said that the Excalibur is on a humanitarian

mission. What sort of humanitarian would you be if you followed the course that you have set out for

yourself, hmm? So, Captain what will it be?"

Calhoun seemed to contemplate her with about as much passion as he would if he were peering through

a microscope and watching an amoeba flutter around. And then, very quietly, he said, "Very well,

Laheera. You are correct. This is a pointless exercise."

"I'm pleased you are listening to reason."

But Calhoun had now turned his back to Laheera. Instead he was facing Boyajian, who was standing at

the tactical station, filling in for the absent Zak Kebron. "Mr. Boyajian," he said, and his tone was flat and

unwavering. "Arm photon torpedoes one and two."

If Boyajian was surprised at the order, he was pro enough not to let it show. "Arming photon torpedoes,

sir. Target?"

"Torpedo one should be locked on to the origin point of this transmission. Torpedo two" He hesitated a

moment, considering. "Run a quick sensor sweep on Selinium. Find a densely populated section of

town."

"Populated?" Shelby spoke up, unable to keep the astonishment from her voice. "Sir, perhaps a

technological target might be preferable? Some area of high energy discharge, indicating a power plant

or"

"Power plants can be rebuilt," Calhoun said reasonably. "People can't. Mr. Boyajian, have you got those

targets locked in yet?"

"Yes, sir." Boyajian didn't sound happy about it.

"Projected casualty count from both torpedoes?"

Boyajian felt his mouth go very dry. He licked his lips, checked the estimates, and then said, "Ap" His

throat also felt like dust. "Approximately five hundred thousand, sir."

All eyes were now on Calhoun. From her science station, Soleta's face was stoic and unreadable. At

conn, Mark McHenry actually looked amused, as if he was certain that Calhoun would not do what he

was preparing to do. Only Robin Lefler at ops was allowing her concern to show. She was biting her

lower lip, a nervous habit that she'd been trying to break herself of for ten years. She wasn't having much

success, and moments like this weren't making it easier on her.

And Shelby

Shelby was looking at him, not with anger, as he would have guessed, but with a vague sort of

disappointment.

All of this, Calhoun took in in a second or two.

"Haifa million. Impressive. Mr. McHenry, how long until we're in range?" he asked.

"At present orbital speed, one minute, three seconds," said McHenry, without, Calhoun noticed,

checking his navigation board. Below them the blue/gray sphere that was Nelkar turned beneath them as

they circled it.

"And once we've fired the torpedoes, how long until they reach primary targets?"

"Forty-seven seconds."

He nodded and then said to Boyajian, "Engage safety locks on the torpedoes, Mr. Boyajian.

Forty-four-second cut-off."

"Engaging safety locks, aye, sir."

On the screen, Laheera watched the activity on the bridge without fully understanding what was going on.

"Captain, what are you playing at? May I remind you we have the fate of the hostages to consider."

"There's no need. What you don't understand is that I am determining their fate. Not you. Me. And I'm

determining your fate as well. Your earlier point is well taken. There's no need for me to stand around

waiting for you to murder the hostages. For that matter, you've already killed one Captain Hufmin. For

that alone, you should consider this your punishment. A pity that others have to die with you, but those

are the fortunes of war." And with what seemed virtually no hesitation on his part, he turned back to

Boyajian and said crisply, "Fire photon torpedoes, and then give me a countdown."

For the briefest of moments, Boyajian paused, and then in a firm voice, he replied, "Aye, sir." He

punched a control and two photon torpedoes leaped from the underbelly of the Excalibur and hurtled

downward toward the unprotected city. "Torpedoes away," he said. "Forty-seven forty-six forty-five"

It sounded as if Laheera's voice had just gone up an octave. Boretskee and the small girl were looking

around in confusion, not entirely grasping what had just occurred. "What have you done?!" demanded

Laheera.

"I have just fired two photon torpedoes. They'll be slowed down a bit as they pass through your

atmosphere, but they'll still have sufficient firepower to level whatever they hit."

" thirty-seven thirty-six" Boyajian was intoning.

"You'll kill them! You'll kill her!" and Laheera shook the young girl, who let out a squeal of alarm. "You

wouldn't!"

"Yes, I would."

"They're blanks! You're bluffing!"

" thirty twenty-nine" came the steady count from Boyajian.

"They're running hot, I assure you," he said with quiet conviction. "But they're armed with safety locks. I

can abort them during the first forty seconds. In the last seven seconds, however, nothing can turn them

back. Agree to release the hostages, or within the next"

" twenty" supplied Boyajian.

"Thank you, twenty seconds you're dead. You, and about half a million Nelkarites. Gone, in one shot,

because of the threats and strong-arming of you and Governor Celter for shortcuts. Decide now,

Laheera."

For a moment she seemed to waver, and then she drew herself up and said firmly, "You are bluffing. I

can smell it from here. Do your worst."

Calhoun's face was utterly inscrutable. "You're gambling half a million lives, including yours, on your

sense of smell."

"Mine? No. No, I'm broadcasting from a deep enough shelter that I'll be safe. As for the rest, well as I

said, I'm positive you're bluffing. I'll stake their lives on my instincts any day."

"If you care about your people, reconsider."

"No."

There was dead silence on the bridge, and through it reverberated Boyajian's voice as he began the final

countdown. "Ten nine eight"

An infinity of thoughts tumbled through Shelby's mind. This was the time. This was the time to do it. For

she knew now something that was previously unclear to her. Mackenzie Calhoun had spent his formative

years assimply puta terrorist. It was easy to overlook that, because one tended to give him more

flattering, even romantic labels such as "rebel leader" or "freedom fighter." But at core, he was indeed a

terrorist, and he had fallen back on terrorist tactics. Proper procedures meant nothing to him. Life itself

meant nothing to him. All that mattered was pounding his opponents until they could no longer resist.

" seven"

Now , her mind screamed, now! Take command, declare Calhoun unfit, and order Boyajian to abort/It's

not mutiny! No one on this bridge wants to see this travesty happen! They're looking to me to take

charge !

" six"

On the screen was Laheera, arms folded, smug, confident. The stunned, shocked faces of Boretskee and

the young girl were evident.

" five"

On the bridge was Calhoun, arms behind his back, staring levelly at the screen, and then, for no apparent

reason, his gaze flickered to Shelby. Her eyes locked with Calhoun's, seemed to bore directly into the

back of his brain.

Boyajian's lips began to form the letter "f" for four

"Abort," said Calhoun.

Boyajian's finger, which had been poised a micro-centimeter above the control panel, stabbed down, the

reflex so quick that he didn't even have time to register a sense of relief.

Several thousand feet above Selinium, two photon torpedoeswhich normally would have exploded on

impactreceived a detonation command. They blew up prematurely, creating a spectacular flash of light

and rolling of sound in the blue skies overhead. The people of Seliniumwho had no idea that a pair of

torpedoes had been winging their waylooked up in confusion and fear. No one had a ready explanation

for what had just happened. A number of people had to be treated for flash-blindness, having had the

misfortune to be looking directly into the explosion when it occurred. Many others had a ringing in the

ears from the noise. Even as the echo of the detonation died away, Nelkarites turned to one another for

answers and found none.

But an explanation was not long in coming. For Governor Celter immediately went on citywide comm

channels and, with that famed, calming presence of his, seemed to be looking into the hearts of anyone

who watched as he announced, "No doubt most, if not all, of you were witness to the explosion

overhead. I am pleased to announce that we have been testing a new weapons system which willI assure

yougive us a new, more secure Nelkar than ever before. This was, however, a secret test, as such things

often are, and we were not able to announce the test beforehand. On that basis, I hope you will forgive

us any concern that might have been caused on your part. We are, after all, working for a common goal

the best, safest Nelkar possible. No need to concern yourselves, and you can all go on about your

business. Thank you for your attention."

And he smiled in that way he had.

Once again there was silence on the bridge except this time it was broken by low, contemptuous

laughter.

The laughter was coming from Laheera. She could see the entire scene on the bridge of the Excalibur . It

looked as if that Shelby woman was sorry that she couldn't simply reach through the viewscreen and

strangle her. Still, Shelby's state of mind was hardly a major concern to Laheera.

Calhoun, for his part, stood straight and tall and yet, somehow, he seemed smaller.

"Now then, Captain," Laheera said, "since we know where each of us stands let's get down to business,

shall we? We can be flexible in our demands. Advance, in our weapons systems, in our warp drive

propulsion oh, and matter transportation, of course. We know that you've mastered it. Our experiments

in that realm have been somewhat less than satisfying. Our test subjects have not come through the

process inshall we saypresentable condition. We trust that you will be able to aid us in these matters?"

"Yes," said Calhoun, in a voice so soft that it was barely above a whisper.

Indeed, Laheera made a show of cupping her ear and saying, "Excuse me? I didn't quite hear that."

"I said yes," Calhoun repeated, more loudly but with no intensity. It was as if there had been fire in him

that had been doused.

"That's good to hear. Very good."

"We would like to review the information that you need," Calhoun said. "Understand, this is not an an

easy thing we're doing. We still feel that giving you what you request is fundamentally wrong and

potentially harmful. Obviously we have to cooperate with you, under the circumstances. But we want to

try and minimize what we perceive as the damage we may do you."

"That's very considerate of you, Captain," said Laheera, making no effort to keep the irony from her

voice. "After all, we know that at this moment, the Nelkarites are likely your very favorite race in the

entire galaxy. Naturally you would be placing our welfare at the very top of your list of concerns."

Calhoun said nothing. There didn't seem to be any point to it.

"You have twenty-four hours, Captain. That should be more than enough, I would think. More than

enough."

"Thank you," said Calhoun. "That's very generous of you."

She smiled thinly. "I can afford to be generous in victory just as you appear to be gracious in defeat."

She snapped off the viewscreen and turned to face Boretskee and Meggan. "There," she said in that

charmingly musical voice. "That wasn't so difficult now, was it?"

Boretskee's mouth drew back in a snarl. He was so filled with fury that he couldn't even form words.

"Now then the guards will escort you to your quarters," she continued. "And there you will remain until

we've gotten what we wanted. And if, for some reason, the Excalibur does not come through as

promised well then, we'll get together again," and she smiled mercilessly, "for one last time. Now off you

go. Oh, and have the guards be sure to take you past the Main Worship Tower. It's very scenic, and I

wouldn't want you to miss it."

Shelby was prepared to console Calhoun in whatever way she could. To tell him that he had acted

correctly. That in displaying mercy, he had shown strength, not weakness. That anyone else on the bridge

would have done the exact same thing. That she was not ashamed of him, but proud of him.

She didn't have time to say any of it, because the moment that the screen blinked out, Calhoun turned to

face his crew, wearing a look of grim amusement.

" 'Gracious in defeat' my ass. I'm going to kick the crap out of them."

THALLON

II.

THALLON WAS A DYING WORLD of this, the leader was certain.

The leader was in his study when the ground rocked beneath his feet. This time around, nothing was

thrown from the shelves, no artwork hurled off the walls. It wasn't that the quake was any gentler than the

previous ones; it was just that the leader, having learned his lessons from previous difficulties, had had

everything bolted in place.

Still, that wasn't enough to prevent structural damage. The quake seemed to go for an eternity before

finally subsiding, and while he was clutching the floor, the leader noticed a thin crack that started around

the middle of the room and went all the way to one of the corners. His own, red-skinned reflection

grimaced back at him from the highly polished surface.

He drew himself up to a sitting position, but remained on the floor long after the trembling had stopped.

This place, this "palace" once belonging to the imperial family it was his now. His and his allies'.

It was what he had wanted, what they had all wanted. What they had deserved. The royal family had

ruled, had dictated, had hoarded, had been moved by self-interest for more generations than anyone

could count. It was high time that the people took back that which was rightfully theirs. And if it benefited

the leader, so much the better.

In a way, the royal family had led a collectively charmed life. Their ascension to power had its roots in the

earliest parts of the planet's history, when they had been among the first to devise the Great Machines

which had tapped into the energy-rich ground of Thallon. The machines' power had been theirs, and as

the world had thrived and later the empire had expanded so had the influence and strength of the royal

family spread as well. Indeed, the early stories of both Thallon's origins and the origins of the royal family

were so steeped in legend and oral tradition that the world itself seemed to smack of mythology. It was

as if there was something bigger-than-life about the homeworld of the Thai-Ionian Empire.

But in recent years, as everyone on Thallon knew, the Great Machines were finding less and less energy

to draw for the purpose of supplying Thallon's energy needs. Like an oil well drying out, Thallon was

becoming an energy-depleted world. There had been cutbacks, blackouts, entire cities gone dark for

days, weeks at a time. The legend had acquired a coat of tarnish, and that general feeling of

dissatisfaction had grown and grown until it had spiraled completely out of control.

When wealth and power were plentiful, it seemed that there was enough for all. When such things were

reduced to a premium, then did the remaining mongrels fight over the scraps. And the royal family had

been torn asunder in the battle.

Many had already abandoned Thallon, the stars calling to them, offering them safer haven. There were,

after all, other worlds within the once-empire that could sustain them. In addition there were places

outside the empire to which they could go.

But there were others who refused to run. The symbol of their achievements was right here on Thai-Ion.

Indeed, many of them firmly clutched on to the idea that somehow, by dint of the royal family being

dismantled, matters would turn aroundthat Thai-Ion would be entering a new era thanks to the ejection of

the royalsand there were many who did not want to take the chance of missing out.

And, unfortunately, there were a fewa precious fewwho wanted the royal family back.

"You look preoccupied."

The leader glanced over and saw Zoran standing in the doorway. The tall, powerfully built Thallonian

seemed to occupy the entire space as he stood there, staring in mild confusion and amusement. "Do you

find it particularly comfortable on the floor?"

"In case you didn't notice, we just had another quake."

"Yes, I noticed. Nothing that any true Thallonian should be overly concerned about, though."

"You think not? Your confidence is most reassuring," muttered the leader, making no effort to hide his

sarcasm. He rose to his feet and dusted himself off. "I am concerned that these quakes are going to

continue to occur until"

"Until what? The planet explodes?" Zoran made a dismissive noise. "Such things are the province of

fantasy, not reality. This world is solid, and this world will thrive again. And you stand there and act as if

it's going to crack open like a giant egg. You need to have a little more confidence."

"And you need to have a little less," said the leader. He began to pace, his hands draped behind his back.

"I expected to hear from you via subspace radio. The lengthy silence was not anticipated."

"I felt it would be better to run silent," Zoran replied. "Transmissions can always be intercepted."

"Fine, fine," the leader said. "How did it go? Was the ambush successful? Was M'k'n'zy lured to the

science station, as we anticipated?"

Zoran was mildly puzzled at the leader's attitude. He would have anticipated some degree of urgency in

the questions, but instead the leader seemed barely interested. "No. The signal was sent out, as planned,

and the Excalibur did receive it, but they did not show up."

The leader looked mildly surprised. "Odd. Ryjaan was positive that they would, as was D'ndai."

"Really." Zoran did not even try to suppress his smug grin. "And did either Ryjaan, the Danteri fool, or

D'ndai, the idiot brother of M'k'n'zy Calhoun, tell you that Si Cwan was aboard the ship?"

The leader's face went a deeper shade of red as he stared in astonishment at Zoran. "Lord Si Cwan? He

lives?" He seemed to gasp, his surprise apparently overwhelming.

"Not anymore. He and a Starfleet officera Brikarflew out to the station on their own, in a runabout.

Supposedly they were to provide temporary aid until the Excalibur could join them later, but what really

caught Si Cwan's attention was that we listed his sister among the passengers."

"Why did you do that?"

"We thought that listing a member of the former royal family would be an additional lure and incentive for

the Excalibur . We didn't want to take any chances of failing to catch their attention. Kalinda was the only

one who is officially still listed as missing." He smirked. "One might consider it 'divine inspiration,' I

suppose. I plucked her name out of the ether, and as a consequence, got the brother."

"You mean Lord Si Cwan is dead."

"That is correct."

"I see." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "And it never occurred to you that if we disposed of him in a

more public forum say, here on Thallon that it might better serve our interests."

"My interest was in seeing him dead. Period." Zoran was beginning to bristle a bit. "I would have

expected a bit of gratitude from you. Some thanks. I tell you I wiped out Si Cwan, the man whom you

hated more than any, and all you can do is stand there and make snide comments."

"No. That is not all I can do." And then, with a move so quick that Zoran didn't even see it coming, the

leader's fist swept around and caught Zoran on the point of his chin. Zoran, caught off guard, went down.

He sat there for a moment, stunned, the world whirling about him. From above him the leader said

mockingly, "Do you find it particularly comfortable on the floor?"

Zoran's anger, barely controlled even at the best of times, began to boil up within him. "Why why did

you"

"He's not dead."

"Yes, he is," Zoran said forcefully as he staggered to his feet. "I blew him up! Blew up the station! Ask

Rojam if you don't believe me! Ask Juif! They were there!"

"Yes, I know they were. And so was D'ndai."

Zoran gaped. He could barely get any words out, and the one word he was able to manage was "What?"

"You heard me."

"He wasn't! He was nowhere around!"

"He showed up just as you departed. He wanted to check on your progress, to see if the Excalibur had

fallen for the bait. He had intended to leave as quickly as he had arrived, but when he saw your hurried

departure and no sign of the starship anywhere, he scanned the science station and discovered that there

were two individuals aboard and an energy buildup that indicated a bomb set for detonation. Since you

had clearly deviated from the plan, he opted to take no chances and beamed them aboard his own

vessel."

"They're safe?!" Zoran was trembling so violently one would have thought another quake had begun.

"They're safe! I left them for dead, Si Cwan and the Brikar both! They're safe ?!"

"No, they're merely alive. 'Safe' is a very subjective term. D'ndai has both of them in lockup on his vessel.

He's bringing them here."

"Here! Why here?"

"Because," said the leader, and his voice became deep and harsh, "we're going to hold a proper

execution. His will not be a fine and private death. All of Thallon will see the execution of Si Cwan. They

will see him writhe, and cry out, and soil himself. There are some, you see, who still hold him in esteem.

Still have an image of him as being a protector of the people, someone who cares about them. But I

know him, you see, as do you. Know him to be as arrogant and insufferable as any of his brethren. And

when the people see him wallowing in his own misery, then finallyonce and for allthey will put aside all

thoughts of their previous leadership." He clapped a hand on the shoulder of Zoran and smiled. "It will be

glorious."

"Do you think that it will work out so easily?" asked Zoran. "Are people truly that easily manipulated?"

"The masses will believe what we want them to believe," replied the leader. "You would be amazed how

easily people can be persuaded to accept whatever it is you want, particularly when you appeal to any of

their four most basic motivations Greed. Fear. A contempt for weakness. And self-preservation. When

those are brought to the forefront of people's minds, governments topple, and the citizens congratulate

each other and call themselves patriots."

LAHEERA

III.

THREE HOURS BEFORE she was confronted by a bloodthirsty mob, Laheera first learned that she

had a serious problems on her hands.

She was in her office in the main government building. As military head and right arm to Governor Celter,

she was naturally entitled to rather impressive quarters not only in the main wing, but also in the

subterranean shelter from which she was capable of conducting subspace negotiations with relative

assurance of her own safety. It had been barely two hours since the communique with the Excalibur

wherein she had signed off by congratulating Calhoun on being a gracious loser. She was busy trying to

calculate how best to profit through acquiring the technology that would provide near-instantaneous

matter transmission, when Celter had come running into her office. He slammed open the doors with his

shoulder, barely slowing down, and his gold skin had gone completely ashen. "Have you heard what

they're doing? What those bastards are doing? Have you seen? Have you heard?"

She looked up at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? What"

"It's all over the comms! All over everything! Everywhere! Everyone's heard about it! You've killed us,

Laheera! You've killed us all!"

He was becoming hysterical, words tumbling over each other, becoming impossible to understand. She

rose from behind her desk angrily, crossed the room, and stood before him, arms folded impatiently.

What she really wanted to do was slap him but, aside from slitting the occasional throat or blowing an

opponent out of space, Laheera tried to avoid violence whenever possible. "Would you calm down and

tell me what you're talking about?"

For answer, Celter pulled a remote off his belt, aimed it at her viewscreen, and thumbed it to life. The

screen snapped on

and Laheera was seeing the bridge of the Excalibur . The angle was from over Calhoun's shoulder as he

was facing the viewscreen

and she was on the screen. She was sitting there, conversing with Calhoun, and she was wearing an

insufferably smug expression, and Calhoun was saying with a deadpan expression, "You're gambling half

a million lives, including yours, on your sense of smell."

"Mine?" Laheera was smirking. "No. No, I'm broadcasting from a deep enough shelter that I'll be safe.

As for the rest, well as I said, I'm positive you're bluffing. I'll stake their lives on my instincts any day."

"If you care about your people, reconsider."

"No."

Laheera watched, feeling the blood drain from her face until her tint matched Celter's. Her mouth moved,

but no words emerged, as the entire scene played itself out. Then the screen wavered slightly and the

entire scene began again.

"Do you have any idea how this makes us look!" Celter was nearly shrieking. "There's the noble captain

of the Excalibur , trying to save the hostages that we're holding and yet valuing Nelkarite lives so highly

that he preserves the lives of our citizens while we ourselves are willing to throw them away!"

"They were never in danger," Laheera tried to stammer out.

"Well, they don't see it that way!"

"Shut the picture off," she said, and when Celter didn't respond quickly enough, she grabbed the remote

out of his hand and did it herself. She whirled to face him. "It's originating from the Excalibur , isn't it?"

"Of course it is! Where else?!"

"Jam it," she said tightly. "Jam the transmission!"

"We tried! They kept overriding it!"

"Shut it down, then! Shut down the entire comm system! Take it off the air!"

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