Star Trek - NF - 005 - Martyr Read online

 

  "It's nothing, my lord," Saulcram said nervously.

 

  "If it is nothing, then it is of such little consequence that you should not hesitate to tell me what it is. Correct?" He made it sound so pleasant, so simple. He prodded Saulcram under the chin less than gently with his staff. "Now you will tell me, yes?"

 

  Saulcram looked to his friends, and then back to the High Priest. "We're just . . . just discussing, well . . . what everyone is discussing."

 

  "Odd," said the High Priest. "I don't recall discussing it. Why don't you share that which apparently should already be common knowledge, hmm?"

 

  "Well, it's . . . it's about . . . you know . . . the Second Coming."

 

  "The Second Coming." The High Priest nodded approvingly. "You refer, of course, to the Second Coming of Xant."

 

  "Yes. Yes, that's it exactly. Can I go now?"

 

  The end of the staff had a curve to it. The High Priest twisted it slightly so that the curve snagged Saulcram's upper forearm, keeping him serenely in place. "Well, I find this a bit odd, Saulcram," the High Priest told him. "If that was indeed all you were

 

 

 

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  talking aboutthe Second Coming of Xantthen why did you hesitate to tell me? Why were you so nervous? Why are you so nervous still?"

 

  "I . . . I swear, I don't"

 

  The High Priest suddenly gripped his staff with both hands and twisted quickly. The abrupt sharp turn of the hooked end bent down and back against the arm, and there was a very audible snap. Saulcram went down, clutching at his broken arm, and there were tears already starting to well up in his eyes.

 

  The others surrounding the High Priest took an angry step forward, and once again the High Priest glared around at them in that forceful way he had. It was a look that was usually capable of thoroughly intimidating the Alphans. This time, the High Priest made a mental note that the Alphans did not appear intimidated at all. Hesitant, yes. Unsure of whether to make a move or not. But it seemed no longer that they would hesitate to attack. Rather, it appeared that they were simply waiting for the right time, although no one seemed to know precisely when that was going to be.

 

  Other passersby were stopping to observe the altercation. A crowd was beginning to grow, and it was not something the High Priest could particularly say he liked. He raised his voice and called out, "The person of a High Priest is sacrosanct! Do not forget that! Let none of you forget that! For to injure or kill a High Priest is to spell swift and immediate doom for your entire world! Know that!"

 

  And from somewhere in the crowd, he heard a voice call out. And the voice said, "Excalibur is coming!"

 

  "Excalibur," he murmured in confusion and annoyance.

 

  "Excalibur, the force of freedom, chosen of the flame bird!" someone shouted.

 

 

 

 

 

  A third person called out, "The liberator is coming! They will destroy you, and the Redeemers, and even your precious Xant will not be able to stand before them!"

 

  Still another person shouted out, "Calhoun! Cal-houn!"

 

  The crowd began to take up the chant, repeating it over and over "Calhoun! Calhoun! Calhoun!"

 

  The High Priest had no idea what was going on, but he knew he did not like it. Not in the least.

 

  He stepped back away from Saulcram and his friends. Caught up in the defiance of the crowd, even Saulcram and those with him were calling out "Calhoun! Calhoun!"

 

  The High Priest, maintaining as much of his dignity as possible under the circumstances, made his way back to the Alpha Carinae Central Hall of Worship. Even though things seemed calmer once he put some distance between himself and the impromptu rally, he couldn't help but feel that all eyes were upon him. He kept feeling that someone would launch himself from the shadows of a nearby building. Anything from a harsh word to a projectile might have come flying his way at any moment. As it happened, however, his return to his base occurred without incident. And so it was thatwith his skin intact, albeit it with nerves somewhat strung outthe High Priest was putting through a transmission to Tulaan IV as fast as possible.

 

  Moments later he was speaking directly with Prime One, the Overlord's good right arm. At first he had been concerned that Prime One might be upset in response to what should have been a minor problem, but instead Prime One seemed amused by it all. "I know whereof the Alphans speak, Brother," Prime One said calmly. "We know well of this 'flame bird' that was mentioned. You will be most pleased to

 

 

 

  ") else document.write("

 

  talking aboutthe Second Coming of Xantthen why did you hesitate to tell me? Why were you so nervous? Why are you so nervous still?"

 

  "I . . . I swear, I don't"

 

  The High Priest suddenly gripped his staff with both hands and twisted quickly. The abrupt sharp turn of the hooked end bent down and back against the arm, and there was a very audible snap. Saulcram went down, clutching at his broken arm, and there were tears already starting to well up in his eyes.

 

  The others surrounding the High Priest took an angry step forward, and once again the High Priest glared around at them in that forceful way he had. It was a look that was usually capable of thoroughly intimidating the Alphans. This time, the High Priest made a mental note that the Alphans did not appear intimidated at all. Hesitant, yes. Unsure of whether to make a move or not. But it seemed no longer that they would hesitate to attack. Rather, it appeared that they were simply waiting for the right time, although no one seemed to know precisely when that was going to be.

 

  Other passersby were stopping to observe the altercation. A crowd was beginning to grow, and it was not something the High Priest could particularly say he liked. He raised his voice and called out, "The person of a High Priest is sacrosanct! Do not forget that! Let none of you forget that! For to injure or kill a High Priest is to spell swift and immediate doom for your entire world! Know that!"

 

  And from somewhere in the crowd, he heard a voice call out. And the voice said, "Excalibur is coming!"

 

  "Excalibur," he murmured in confusion and annoyance.

 

  "Excalibur, the force of freedom, chosen of the flame bird!" someone shouted.

 

 

 

 

 

  A third person called out, "The liberator is coming! They will destroy you, and the Redeemers, and even your precious Xant will not be able to stand before them!"

 

  Still another person shouted out, "Calhoun! Cal-houn!"

 

  The crowd began to take up the chant, repeating it over and over "Calhoun! Calhoun! Calhoun!"

 

  The High Priest had no idea what was going on, but he knew he did not like it. Not in the least.

 

  He stepped back away from Saulcram and his friends. Caught up in the defiance of the crowd, even Saulcram and those with him were calling out "Calhoun! Calhoun!"

 

  The High Priest, maintaining as much of his dignity as possible under the circumstances, made his way back to the Alpha Carinae Central Hall of Worship. Even though things seemed calmer once he put some distance between himself and the impromptu rally, he
couldn't help but feel that all eyes were upon him. He kept feeling that someone would launch himself from the shadows of a nearby building. Anything from a harsh word to a projectile might have come flying his way at any moment. As it happened, however, his return to his base occurred without incident. And so it was thatwith his skin intact, albeit it with nerves somewhat strung outthe High Priest was putting through a transmission to Tulaan IV as fast as possible.

 

  Moments later he was speaking directly with Prime One, the Overlord's good right arm. At first he had been concerned that Prime One might be upset in response to what should have been a minor problem, but instead Prime One seemed amused by it all. "I know whereof the Alphans speak, Brother," Prime One said calmly. "We know well of this 'flame bird' that was mentioned. You will be most pleased to

 

 

 

  ") if( !cssCompatible ) document.write("

 

  know that the Overlord had officially declared it to be a sign."

 

  "A sign," the High Priest repeated uncomprehend-ingly.

 

  "A sign that Xant will be returning," Prime One said with a touch of impatience. He outlined the specifics of the flame bird's appearance in as broad strokes as he could, and then concluded, "This is not a time of concern, Brother. This is a time of rejoicing!"

 

  "Rejoicing is a luxury in which you can indulge yourself, Prime One," replied the High Priest. "But the people of Alpha Carinae do not seem to necessarily share your conviction that this is a precursor to the return of Xant. They seem perfectly inclined to attribute some other cause to it."

 

  "Other?" The thought literally had not even occurred to the Prime One. "What other could there possibly be?"

 

  "This 'Excalibur' they mentioned. And another name . . . Calhoun."

 

  "Yes, we are aware of both of these," said Prime One. "Excalibur is a Federation vessel, Calhoun its captain. They were merely on the site when the bird signaled the return of Xant. They have nothing to do with the creature's existence, nor with the return of Xant."

 

  "That may very well be," the High Priest informed him, "but the Alphans seem to feel otherwise. They believe in some sort of link. That, rather than signaling a return by Xant, the circumstances surrounding the creature's appearance is an endorsement of, or a precursor to, the one they call Calhoun. They seem to regard him as some sort of . . . of liberator."

 

  "Liberator?" Prime One was thunderstruck. "Liberation from the word of Xant? From the spirit of

 

 

 

 

 

  Xant? Who in their right mind would desire to be" liberated from that?"

 

  "The Alphans apparently, sir. They have no comprehension or appreciation of all that we try to do for them."

 

  "I will inform the Overlord of this situation," Prime One said after a moment's thought. "He will want to know of the wrongheadedness in many which surrounds this clear signal of Xant's return. He may very well want to address Alpha Carinae . . . and perhaps even other worlds which may be laboring under similar delusions. Thank you for informing me of the situation there, Brother."

 

  "It was my honor as always, Prime One."

 

  "May Xant light your way."

 

  "Yours as well, Prime One."

 

  Prime One's image blinked off the screen, leaving the High Priest to gaze out the windows at the populace below him. It was a populace amongst whom he had never hesitated to walk, but now something told him that he would be most well advised to stay exactly where he was. That perhaps now was not the time to spread the good word and tidings of Xant among the Alphans.

 

  Because somehow, he had the feelinga feeling that, as it turned out, was a correct onethat the last thing the Alphans were interested in doing at that particular moment in time was listening.

 

  ") else document.write("

 

  know that the Overlord had officially declared it to be a sign."

 

  "A sign," the High Priest repeated uncomprehend-ingly.

 

  "A sign that Xant will be returning," Prime One said with a touch of impatience. He outlined the specifics of the flame bird's appearance in as broad strokes as he could, and then concluded, "This is not a time of concern, Brother. This is a time of rejoicing!"

 

  "Rejoicing is a luxury in which you can indulge yourself, Prime One," replied the High Priest. "But the people of Alpha Carinae do not seem to necessarily share your conviction that this is a precursor to the return of Xant. They seem perfectly inclined to attribute some other cause to it."

 

  "Other?" The thought literally had not even occurred to the Prime One. "What other could there possibly be?"

 

  "This 'Excalibur' they mentioned. And another name . . . Calhoun."

 

  "Yes, we are aware of both of these," said Prime One. "Excalibur is a Federation vessel, Calhoun its captain. They were merely on the site when the bird signaled the return of Xant. They have nothing to do with the creature's existence, nor with the return of Xant."

 

  "That may very well be," the High Priest informed him, "but the Alphans seem to feel otherwise. They believe in some sort of link. That, rather than signaling a return by Xant, the circumstances surrounding the creature's appearance is an endorsement of, or a precursor to, the one they call Calhoun. They seem to regard him as some sort of . . . of liberator."

 

  "Liberator?" Prime One was thunderstruck. "Liberation from the word of Xant? From the spirit of

 

 

 

 

 

  Xant? Who in their right mind would desire to be" liberated from that?"

 

  "The Alphans apparently, sir. They have no comprehension or appreciation of all that we try to do for them."

 

  "I will inform the Overlord of this situation," Prime One said after a moment's thought. "He will want to know of the wrongheadedness in many which surrounds this clear signal of Xant's return. He may very well want to address Alpha Carinae . . . and perhaps even other worlds which may be laboring under similar delusions. Thank you for informing me of the situation there, Brother."

 

  "It was my honor as always, Prime One."

 

  "May Xant light your way."

 

  "Yours as well, Prime One."

 

  Prime One's image blinked off the screen, leaving the High Priest to gaze out the windows at the populace below him. It was a populace amongst whom he had never hesitated to walk, but now something told him that he would be most well advised to stay exactly where he was. That perhaps now was not the time to spread the good word and tidings of Xant among the Alphans.

 

  Because somehow, he had the feelinga feeling that, as it turned out, was a correct onethat the last thing the Alphans were interested in doing at that particular moment in time was listening.

 

  ") if( !cssCompatible ) document.write(" VIII.

 

  SELAR WAS SEATED BY HERSELF in the team room, which was how she was customarily seated. She was carefully nursing a glass of Synthehol when she looked up to see Burgoyne 172 staring down at her.

 

  "Somehow, Lieutenant Commander," Selar said slowly, "I suspected that we would be chatting in the near future."

 

  "Really," Burgoyne said. "So you're saying there's something you want to talk to me abou
t?"

 

  "Not in particular, no," replied Selar. "However, it was my suspicion that you would desire to talk to me."

 

  "Well, now aren't we full of ourselves," said Bur goyne, and Selar could see from the slightest waver in Burgoyne's bearings that s/he had already had a bit to drink. Selar was well aware (since Burgoyne had boasted of it on more than one occasion) that s/he had a fairly impressive collection of scotch back in hir quarters, a drink s/he had apparently developed a

 

 

 

 

 

  taste for while imbibing with a former engineer from another ship.

 

  "Would you care to sit down, Lieutenant Commander," said Selar, "before you fall down?"

 

  "Why don't you ask me to sit?" Burgoyne demanded.

 

  For the briefest of moments, Selar doubted her sanity. Was it possible, she wondered, that the semi-delusional state resulting from heightened Pon Fan was enough to cause her to lose track completely of time or a discussion? Hadn't she just asked

 

  She shrugged mentally. It hardly seemed worth a dispute. "Why do you not sit down?" she inquired.

 

  "Thank you," said Burgoyne, dropping down into a chair next to Selar. Burgoyne was leaning so far over toward Selar's side that she had to slide over a bit so as not to wind up with Burgoyne in her lap. That was a situation that certainly would not have been off-putting to Burgoyne, but was not something that Selar desired to explore at this particular moment in time.

 

  "How may I be of service, Chief Engineer?"

 

  "For starters, you can call me Burgoyne. Or Burgy. Most fother olks do."

 

  It took the Vulcan a mere moment to realize that Burgoyne had meant to say "other folks," and somehow the letters seemed to have gotten away from hir, to say nothing of each other. Although the familiarity was uncomfortable to her, she opted to accede to hir requests rather than risk a protracted conversation. "Very well, Burgoyne. How can I help you?"

 

  "Well, I thought that I could have helped you," said Burgoyne. S/he didn't seem particularly happy at the moment. "But I must have looked pretty foolish, huh? There I was, letting you know I was interested. Talking about how good we could be together. And it turns out you already have something going on. With the captain, no less."