The Returned, Part II Read online

  “I am Xenexian,” said Calhoun. “Soleta is a Vulcan.”

  “I have never heard of either race,” said Nyos. “And I have to admit, that surprises me as well. I thought I was familiar with every race that walked the starways. So this is a most educational day for us. But it remains surprising to me that you have not heard of us. We are quite the superior race, you know.”

  “I’m sure you are,” said Calhoun, taking care not to point out that declaring oneself to be superior is a sure sign that one is anything but. Truly superior individuals were typically marked by their modesty. Then he glanced around and asked the question that he was dreading the answer to. “Did your people do this? Slaughter all these beings?”

  “Yes, our people did,” Nyos said. Then his eyes narrowed. “Are they allies of yours?”

  “Absolutely not,” Calhoun said. “They are unquestionably our enemies. They were responsible for wiping out the entirety of my race.”

  “Genocide, eh? That would certainly not be atypical for the D’myurj and their Brethren,” Nyos said grimly. “Just one of the many reasons that we are their sworn enemies.”

  Calhoun certainly liked the sound of that. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. “Then I see we have something in common. What happened here?”

  “It was relatively straightforward,” said Nyos. “One of our destroyer vessels came upon this ship. They offered the D’myurj the chance to surrender. The D’myurj instead opened fire. Our people had no choice but to come aboard this ship and destroy everyone on it.”

  Calhoun glanced around. “Why did they feel the need to come onto the ship? Why didn’t they just assail it from their own vessel?”

  “That is not our preferred method of combat. We will of course engage in ship-to-ship battle when the need demands it. But we generally prefer to battle our foes face-to-face. If nothing else, it helps us to ensure that our enemies are truly dead, rather than having found some means of escaping.”

  “That makes sense,” said Calhoun slowly.

  “I assume that you have some manner of vessel hereabouts,” said Nyos, glancing around as if it might be hidden somewhere in the bridge. “Is it armed?”

  “Yes. We are not designed to be a battleship, but we can handle ourselves in combat.”

  “That is excellent news. And your timing could not be better.”

  “Really?” said Calhoun with an eyebrow raised. “How so?”

  “Because we are in the midst of a final war with the D’myurj. It is our intention to wipe them out. Would you like to aid us in our endeavor?”

  That sounded absolutely perfect. Calhoun would have liked nothing better than to obliterate the D’myurj and the Brethren. The bastards had destroyed his people. What could be a more fitting retaliation?

  Then he caught a glimpse of Soleta staring at him. Her face was impassive as always, but he thought he caught something in her eyes. A look that was intended to warn him that such an endeavor was most definitely not something that he should be engaging in. They had come to this universe on a search-and-rescue mission, not search-and-destroy. It wasn’t up to them as Starfleet officers to try and wipe out a race, no matter how much they were personally appalled by them.

  All of that went through his head, and then he came to the realization that he did not care in the slightest. His obligations as a Starfleet officer, his motivations as a man—none of that mattered. Here he was being presented with a race that, for whatever reason, despised the D’myurj as much as he did. He would be a fool to turn up his nose at them.

  “I absolutely would,” said Calhoun. He ignored the brief look of disapproval that flitted across Soleta’s face. “We are definitely in.”

  Another of the Dayan was operating the control console. A screen flared to life, much to Calhoun’s surprise. It showed empty space.

  “Where is your vessel?” said Nyos, clearly a bit puzzled. “I see nothing.”

  “It’s cloaked.”

  “Cloaked?” Nyos snorted at that. “No cloak can deceive our sensor devices. If your ship was here, we would know it.”

  Calhoun knew that he was going to have to take a chance. There was always the possibility that Nyos was lying to him. That they had every intention of trying to do to Calhoun’s crew what they had done to the crew of this ship. But he didn’t see he had any choice. Deciding to roll the dice, he tapped his combadge. “Excalibur, this is Calhoun. Drop your cloak.”

  Burgoyne’s clearly surprised voice came back. “Are you sure, Captain?”

  No. Not in the least. “Absolutely,” said Calhoun.

  Seconds later the ship shimmered into existence. The response was startled gasps from the Dayan. “I will be damned,” whispered Nyos. “There it is. I cannot believe it.”

  “The cloak was designed by my people,” Soleta spoke up. “It is impenetrable.”

  “I daresay,” said Nyos.

  Calhoun braced himself. If they were going to open fire on the Excalibur, now would be the moment for them to launch an attack. However, Nyos did not seem the least bit interested in doing so. Instead he simply studied the ship. “I have never seen the like. Far smaller than my ship, of course, but nevertheless seems rather impressive. Are you the only members of your crew aboard this vessel?”

  “No. I have three more men on the ship.” He tapped his combadge. “Calhoun to Kebron, Meyer, and Boyajian. Gentlemen, it’s safe to come out of wherever you’re hiding. Report to the bridge. Should you encounter anyone on the way here, do not engage.”

  He glanced at Nyos, and Nyos nodded. “They will not be stopped in their progress here.”

  “Do you need to inform your people?”

  “I have already informed them. We are linked.” He tapped the side of his head.

  Well, that’s interesting. “Can you read all minds?”

  “You mean can I read yours.”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” Nyos assured him. “Your thoughts remain your own. I can simply connect with my own people, not with members of another race.”

  That was a relief. Calhoun was still feeling his way with this relationship. He didn’t need to find out that the Dayan could read his every thought. Should he have to plot against Nyos, that would have certainly given the towering Dayan an even greater advantage.

  Minutes later the doors to the bridge hissed open and Meyer and Boyajian walked in. Kebron was behind them, and the Dayan gasped when he strode in. Calhoun was pleased to see that several of them actually stepped back, as if worried that he was going to attack them. It seemed to Calhoun that Kebron was likely the only individual on his ship who would be capable of taking on the Dayan one-on-one in a fight.

  “These are security officers Meyer and Boyajian, and this”—Calhoun gestured toward him—“is Zak Kebron, my head of security.”

  “I am also—” Kebron began to say.

  “He is also one of the greatest warriors in our arsenal,” Calhoun interrupted, seeing absolutely no reason to inform them that Kebron was ship’s counselor. He wanted them to perceive Kebron as a formidable and deadly warrior and there was no point in cluttering it with Kebron’s other duties that were related to figuring out how people were feeling.

  “Is he?” said Nyos. He looked Kebron up and down and then abruptly turned to the Dayan standing next to him. “Cabros. Take him down.”

  The Dayan named Cabros came straight at Kebron.

  Zak was clearly surprised, or as clear as possible for his relatively immobile face to register. Cabros plowed into him, trying to shove him back. The power in the Dayan’s six arms was impressive. Kebron skidded back a meter from the impact, and that alone was surprising enough, considering Kebron’s mass. But then he managed to pull himself together and halt the backward slide. He shoved a foot back, came into contact with the wall of the bridge, and pushed himself forward. Cabros endeavored to maintain his footing, but Kebron’s mass was more than he was prepared for. He struggled to right himself, and Kebron hammered him several times in the f
ace. Cabros swayed on his feet, trying to recover, and the security chief didn’t give him the time. Instead, in an impressive display of strength, Kebron lifted the Dayan off his feet and slammed him to the deck of the bridge so loudly that it created an echo.

  The Dayan gaped in astonishment, and for half a heartbeat Calhoun was concerned that they might open fire just on general principle. Instead, they glanced at one another and then nodded as if in approval.

  “Very impressive,” said Nyos. He reached down and extended a hand to Cabros, who took it, and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. “Very impressive indeed. Granted, Cabros was going easy on you in order not to embarrass you, but that was still quite the accomplishment.”

  “Thanks,” said Kebron, looking to Calhoun in clear bewilderment.

  The captain saw no reason to clear things up, mostly because he was still trying to figure out how the Dayan thought. They were aggressive. They had disposed of the D’myurj and Brethren on the ship without a second thought and were about to undertake an endeavor to wipe them out completely. In terms of aggressiveness, they were easily on par with the worst that the Klingons had ever been. By the same token, they also seemed remarkably pleasant. Calhoun was having trouble jibing their actions with their attitudes.

  “What species are you?”

  “I am a Brikar.”

  “Your race is quite phenomenal.”

  “Yes, we are,” said Kebron agreeably.

  “I shall wish to speak more with you about your kind at some point in the future.” Nyos returned his attention to Calhoun. “May we be allowed to come aboard your vessel?”

  Calhoun raced through his mind the possibilities of what affirming such an endeavor would mean. He had, after all, seen what they were capable of doing in hand-to-hand combat, considering that they had handily disposed of everyone on this vessel. “You may come. You and an associate. The rest must return to your vessel.”

  Puzzlement flickered upon Nyos’s face for a moment but then cleared. “Of course. You are worried that if we bring a full complement of warriors onto your ship, then we may dispose of you in the same manner that we attended to these.” He tapped the nearest dead D’myurj with his foot. “I swear to you, Calhoun, that you need not concern yourself. We have a long history with the D’myurj that requires their extermination. We have just met you and so obviously have no quarrel with you at all.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Calhoun. He wanted to believe that Nyos was being genuine in his sentiments. He certainly wasn’t looking for a reason to come into conflict with the Dayan. Focusing on trying to get rid of the D’myurj was enough on his mind as it was. He hit his combadge. “Calhoun to Excalibur.”

  “Excalibur here.” Burgoyne sounded concerned. Calhoun couldn’t blame hir. S/he had no idea what was going on over on the ship.

  “Burgy, I want you to beam over the away team and the two individuals who are going to be standing on either side of me.”

  “Guests, Captain?”

  “That is correct.” He gestured for Nyos to step in next to him, which Nyos did. He then nodded to Cabros to come with him. Calhoun wasn’t wild about the look in Cabros’s eye. He was looking at Kebron in a way that seemed to indicate he would very much like a rematch with the towering Brikar. Despite what Nyos had said, Calhoun was reasonably sure that Cabros had not held back in the slightest. He had done his best against Kebron and had been rather handily smacked down. If Calhoun was reading his personality correctly, that was not a defeat that Cabros was especially happy about.

  “I am quite excited about this,” said Nyos, sounding remarkably chipper. “I very much enjoy meeting new races. And it is comforting to know that we share a mutual hatred for the D’myurj. I can assure you, Captain, that if you were at all sympathetic to them, this first meeting would have gone quite differently.”

  It was only at that point that Calhoun remembered that they had a wounded member of the D’myurj in their sickbay. And he very much suspected that if the Dayan learned of that, the first thing they would want to do was kill him. Considering that Calhoun had no intention of allowing them to do so, he came to the realization that the Excalibur was absolutely the last place that the Dayan should be wandering around, at which point they dematerialized.

  Excalibur

  i.

  THE TWO DAYAN officers stepped slowly off the transporter platform, looking around in amazement. “This is impressive. Most impressive,” said Nyos.

  “It’s just the transporter room,” said Calhoun. Halliwell, who was standing behind the transporter controls, just shrugged and smiled.

  “Yes, but it takes up so much room. We do not have a transporter room of any sort. We simply have equipment that beams us out of wherever we happen to be and sends us wherever we wish to go. Your transporter mechanism cannot do that?”

  “It can,” said Calhoun. “But it can be a bit tricky if you don’t have someone extremely competent handling the controls. Fortunately Halliwell here is quite proficient at her job.”

  Nyos turned and stared at her. He frowned slightly. “Her ears are not pointed.”

  “What? Oh . . . no,” said Calhoun. “She’s a human. Soleta has pointed ears because she is a different race.”

  “Ah. Yes. And you are Xenexian, you said.” He glanced at Meyer and Boyajian. “And they are Xenexian?”

  “No, they’re human as well.”

  “Quite the mixture you have here.”

  “That has always been one of the hallmarks of the Federation,” said Calhoun. “Our ships have an abundance of races on them.”

  “The Federation? What might that be?”

  “It’s what we’re a part of. It’s an organization, a union, of worlds, operating together to keep our galaxy peaceful.”

  The Dayan chuckled at that. It was not laughter that Calhoun was entirely comfortable with.

  “I think that is extremely noble,” said Nyos. “I have never heard of such a thing. Races pulling together in order to form a more perfect union. Honestly, I would never have thought it possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because, Captain, everyone wants something for themselves. They may say that they are willing to work together, but ultimately, they are usually governed by self-interest. I would never have thought that fundamental selfishness could be set aside in the name of a greater good. It would seem that there is much I can learn about your Federation. Although I find it odd that I have never heard of it. You must be quite far away from your home.”

  Calhoun wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that. He didn’t feel inclined to inform Nyos that he and his race were residing within a pocket universe, if for no other reason than that he wasn’t entirely sure he understood himself what the nature of the pocket universe was. All he knew was that continuing the conversation in detail would be a waste of time. “We are,” he confirmed. “We’ve come a long way in hunting down the D’myurj. And we would very much like to assist you in your endeavors against them.”

  “I look forward to the opportunity,” said Nyos. “But first things first. I want to see this cloaking device of yours.”

  “Of mine, actually,” Soleta spoke up. “It was developed by my people, the Romulans.”

  “I thought you were called a Vulcan.”

  “I am a mixture, actually.”

  “Excellent. Then you can tell me all about this cloak.”

  “Let’s retire to engineering, and you can inspect it for yourself,” said Calhoun.

  They headed out of the transporter room and into the connecting corridor. As they headed down it, Calhoun noticed the surprised looks from some of his crewmen as they beheld the Dayan. There was not an overabundance of multilimbed beings back in their own section of the universe, and the Dayan—in both their size and physical composition—were definitely making an impression.

  Nyos, for his part, continued to be perfectly convivial. He greeted the crew, introducing himself as if he were a new arrival at a party. The longer
it went on, the more relaxed Calhoun became. Nyos’s attitude was completely consistent with everything that he said he was.

  You just want to trust him because he wants to destroy the D’myurj.

  Calhoun had to admit that that much was true. It might well have been that he was too welcoming, too ready to set aside his suspicions, because the Dayan were on the same page that he was on when it came to the D’myurj.

  Why not trust them? They could have killed you and Soleta back on the ship with no problem. They have been nothing but friendly, their sparring match with Kebron notwithstanding. Perhaps you should stop being so suspicious and looking for reasons to distrust people. You may well have been handed a gift, and it would be nothing short of sinful for you to turn it away.

  The more Calhoun thought about it, the more he realized that he was doing himself no favors by distrusting the Dayan. They had spoken nothing but the truth thus far and had made no attempt to attack.

  They walked into the engineering room. Nyos looked around, taking in the warp engines and the design of the place. Chief Engineer Craig Mitchell strode over and looked them up and down, making no pretense of being anything except fascinated by their appearance. “Visitors, Captain?” he asked.

  “Guests, Mister Mitchell. They want to see the cloaking device.”

  “This way,” said Mitchell, and he started off. The Dayan, Calhoun, Soleta, and Kebron followed the engineer. Meyer and Boyajian had returned to duty since Calhoun had seen no reason to keep them with him. If a fight broke out, there was probably nothing that they could do that Kebron couldn’t. It seemed unlikely that there would be a need for additional security.

  Mitchell led them over to the cloaking device and pointed. “There you go,” he said.

  “Cabros, look at this,” said Nyos. By way of explanation, he added, “Cabros is my chief technician. There is no form of instrumentation and mechanical engineering with which he is not familiar.”