Star Trek Page 5

  “I don’t know,” said Calhoun. “What do you think it is?”

  “A sword of some kind?”

  “Yes.” Calhoun unwrapped it. The polished metal gleamed even in the muted lighting of the room.

  “Where did you get it? Some sort of war souvenir?”

  “Yes.” He touched the side of his face, running his finger along the scar. “It gave me this.”

  “Really!” said Wexler, intrigued. “Presuming you don’t mean that you cut yourself shaving…may I ask what happened to the sword’s previous owner, your attacker.”

  Calhoun hesitated and then said, without looking up at Wexler, “I think you’d be more comfortable not knowing.”

  “Ah,” Wexler said. “Very well. I…defer to your wisdom on the matter.”

  There was a sudden buzz, and instantly Calhoun brought the sword up and around, looking about suspiciously for danger.

  Wexler saw and tried not to laugh. “You are a bit high-strung, aren’t you. You’ve never heard a door chime?”

  Calhoun looked bewildered. “Door chime?”

  “You must tell me about your homeworld. I imagine it’s very quiet.”

  “When people aren’t screaming in death agonies, yes, it can be relaxing.”

  The bell chimed once more and Wexler called, “Come.”

  The door slid open and Calhoun turned and faced a vision.

  “Hi, lover,” said the blond woman at the door. She was wearing a cadet uniform, same as Wexler.

  Calhoun felt as if his feet had become rooted to the spot. His mind couldn’t process what his eyes were telling him. The woman looked at him askance for a moment, as if she was trying to place him. “Have we met?” she asked.

  He didn’t know quite how to respond. Well, not met exactly, but when I thought I was dying, I had a vision of you lying there stark naked and smiling at me. You are my future, come to life. You are everything that I could ever have wanted or needed, and I loved you before I’ve ever set eyes on you….

  “I very much doubt you have,” Wexler said. He held wide his arms and she came to him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, and at that moment Calhoun unreasonably wanted to send Wexler’s head bouncing across the room. They came up for air and Wexler stepped back, but kept an arm draped around her shoulders. “This is Betty Shelby. My fiancée. Betty, this is my roommate, Mackenzie Calhoun.”

  “One-Punch Calhoun?” she said in surprise. She looked him up and down. “I thought you’d be taller.”

  “Has everyone heard about it?” asked Wexler.

  “I’d say so. Your roommate is famous, Wex.”

  He nuzzled his face against hers. “Should I be jealous?” he said teasingly.

  Calhoun was no longer considering knocking Wexler’s head across the room. Now he was envisioning what it would be like to carve his entire body into small bits.

  “Have you been…engaged for long?” he managed to ask, hoping that he was keeping his voice steady.

  “We’re not exactly ‘engaged,’” said Shelby, casting a look of annoyance at Wexler. “Wex here likes to say I’m his ‘fiancée.’ Makes him sound more important.”

  “And here I thought it gave you more credibility,” he gibed back. She elbowed him teasingly.

  “So…you’re not betrothed?”

  “Our families have been friends for years,” said Wexler. “Both old-time Starfleet families. My parents are scientists…”

  “So you mentioned.”

  “Oh, yes, so I did. Well, Betty and I…we’ve had an ‘understanding,’” he said, hooking his fingers into quotation marks. “When the time is right, we’ll get married. Not that I’d hesitate to give her a ring if I thought for a moment she’d wear it.”

  “Let’s not start that again,” said Shelby with mock annoyance. “I’m not going to wear a band on my finger that declares to all the world I’m your personal property.”

  “Would that shame you?” asked Calhoun.

  She looked at him oddly. “What a strange thing to ask.”

  “Yes. So…would it?”

  Shelby stared at Calhoun a moment longer, looked as if she wanted to say something, and then changed her mind. “You know what? I hardly know you. So we’re not having this discussion.”

  “We’re not?” He felt bewildered. “Oh.” He realized that even when he’d been staggering around in the desert after he’d been wounded—in pain, suffering from thirst, hunger, and blood loss—he hadn’t felt quite as disoriented as he did right then.

  “You’ll have to excuse Calhoun, Betty,” said Wexler, coming to his rescue. “He’s…not from around here.”

  “I’m Xenexian.”

  “So I’ve heard. All right…I’ll let you off easily this time. Don’t give me any more trouble, okay?”

  Their conversation was becoming no clearer to Calhoun, but he was so eager to be quit of it that he said hastily, “Okay,” and considered himself lucky.

  “And one other thing,” she said with a warning tone. “I don’t care what you hear this big lug saying,” and she elbowed Wexler gently in the ribs. “He calls me ‘Betty’ because he knows me from the old days, and that’s fine. You, however, get to call me ‘Elizabeth.’ Or ‘Shelby.’ Not ‘Betty.’ Understood?”

  He nodded. He didn’t want to speak anymore. Talking served as a distraction. All he really wanted to do was stare at her, drink in her presence like water quenching a days-long thirst.

  “Good. Just remember that, and I’m sure we’ll all get along all right.”

  “Oh, Calhoun here will be just loads of fun, I can tell,” said Wexler confidently. “He’ll be like the little brother I always wanted but Mom and Dad never saw fit to provide. Damned selfish of them, I always thought.”

  “Do you have to keep staring at me like that?” she asked Calhoun.

  “There’s another way to stare?”

  “It’s…just impolite.”

  “I stare at the stars,” he replied. “At the moons, and planets. I stare at beauty in nature. Why not you? You’re part of nature.”

  She tried to find something to say in response, and couldn’t think of anything. She settled for laughing in genuine amusement. “You always know just what to say, don’t you, Mackenzie Calhoun.”

  “Sometimes. Sometimes I always know just what to say.” But his mind wasn’t really there. It was instead light-years away, seeing a vision of her in all her glory and wondering whether it was a cruel hallucination.

  No, he decided. No, that wasn’t the case at all. She was his future. That was all there was to it. He had received a vision, and she was in it, and she was meant to be his. No ring was required to tell the world that. Calhoun didn’t care if the world knew it. He knew it, and that was more than enough.

  He wondered if he was going to have to kill Wexler so she could be his. He hoped not. If he’d gotten in so much trouble just for breaking someone’s jaw, certainly killing a fellow student would be frowned upon even more profoundly.

  Chapter Three

  Now

  i.

  Calhoun wasn’t entirely sure that Zak Kebron, head of security on the Excalibur, had heard what he’d said.

  They were seated in Calhoun’s ready room back on the Excalibur, and Calhoun had laid out for the massive Brikar just what the situation was on the Trident. Both ships were maintaining orbit around Danter until the last remains of the business with the Beings and the Tholians could be sorted out. Calhoun was grateful that Ambassador Spock was attending to that, because there was enough on Calhoun’s plate as it was.

  “Zak,” said Calhoun slowly, “did you get all that?”

  “He did not do it,” replied Kebron.

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then I think we should make it the point,” Kebron said flatly. “The point is that Ensign Janos is in no way, shape, or form the murderer of this Lieutenant Commander Gleau.”

  Although it had been a while since Kebron’s change of biology had unleash
ed a previously hidden verbosity in the Brikar, it still surprised Calhoun to hear Kebron speak in sentences of more than two or three words. “Kebron, the evidence would—”

  “To hell with the evidence,” said the Brikar. “I’m telling you what I know. He may have been temporarily assigned to the Trident while we were drydocked with repairs, but he was still under my command, and I know him better than anyone here. And I’m telling you there’s no way he could have done this thing.”

  “I’ve known him longer than you, Zak, and I’m telling you it’s not impossible.”

  Kebron was taken aback by that. “How much longer have you known him, sir?”

  “Since my Academy days.”

  “He was a fellow student? No, but…that makes no sense, you couldn’t have attended at the same time and he’s an ensign while…”

  “It’s complicated and not terribly relevant, Lieutenant,” said Calhoun.

  “With all respect, sir, it may indeed be relevant if—”

  “It’s not,” Calhoun told him in a tone that indicated no further discussion along those lines would be tolerated. “Look, Kebron…the truth is that no one really knows what anyone else is or is not capable of. You’ll have to take my word for it that his nature doesn’t rule it out, and even if I thought it did, the DNA evidence makes any discussion of his capabilities moot.”

  “DNA evidence?” he argued.

  “Of course. Kebron, we’re not embarking on a grand murder mystery here. We’re not looking for fragments of clues—some telltale ashes, or a partial fingerprint that might lead us to our killer. Doc Villers’s people went over the scene with forensic tricorders. They were exceedingly thorough, and there is simply no mistake. Janos’s DNA tracks are all over Gleau’s body and all over the site of the murder itself.”

  “They could have been planted somehow,” said Kebron.

  “Planted? Zak, DNA traces from Janos’s claws were found in the chunks of Gleau’s body that had been ripped apart. That sort of thing can’t be planted artificially.”

  “Just because it hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Just that it hasn’t yet.”

  “Granted. But if you’re thinking to use this as a test case to prove Janos’s innocence, then you’ve picked a hell of a case to try and make forensics history on. Elizabeth’s people inform me that their investigation is more or less airtight.”

  “Even airtight seals can develop leaks when they’re not properly constructed. What’s Janos had to say about it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Kebron was astounded.

  “Not a thing.”

  “But this is absurd. Certainly a simple bioscan would prove beyond a doubt whether he’s telling the truth or not. He must be willing to submit to that.”

  “He’s not,” said Calhoun.

  Kebron wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard him right. “He’s not willing? But why?”

  “I don’t know. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming about it.”

  “But a bioscan would vindicate him. Isn’t he aware of that?”

  “Perhaps, Mr. Kebron,” Calhoun said, not unkindly, “perhaps his concern is that it won’t vindicate him at all. That it will simply make his problems worse.”

  “He stands to be prosecuted for murder. How could they conceivably get worse?”

  “I’d rather not think about that,” said Calhoun dryly.

  “And of course he cannot be forced to take a scan.”

  “Not for a criminal investigation, no. It would be an abrogation of his rights. If he volunteers, he can do it in a heartbeat. But regulations protect him against self-incrimination. If he doesn’t want to have it done, we can’t force him. His refusal, however, can be used as evidence in his court-martial.”

  Kebron paused a moment, then said, “I want to be assigned to the case.”

  “We have no standing in the matter. It happened on the Trident.”

  “He’s my officer!” said Kebron with urgency. “More than that, he’s my friend. We can’t just abandon him!”

  “No one’s abandoning anyone, Kebron. He’s still protected by Starfleet, no matter what—”

  “He’s alone over there, Captain,” Kebron said firmly. “No matter how you look at it, he’s surrounded by people who are not his crewmates, and he’s accused of murdering one of them. He’s not going to get a fair shake.”

  “My wife isn’t going to railroad him, Kebron.”

  “Sir…respectfully, you don’t have the luxury of thinking of her as your wife. She’s the captain of a vessel that’s probably already made up its mind about Janos’s guilt and, as such, presents a threat.”

  “That’s a crock, Kebron,” and Calhoun was starting to get angry. “Captain Shelby is just as interested in learning the truth as anyone.”

  “Then my endeavoring to seek it out shouldn’t pose a problem.” He sounded eminently reasonable about it.

  Calhoun leaned back, shaking his head. “You’re something else, Kebron, you know that?”

  “Yes, sir. I do. Now please…get me aboard Trident to start investigating. It may well be Janos’s only chance at vindication.”

  ii.

  Calhoun couldn’t have been more surprised when Shelby readily agreed to have Kebron come aboard and handle his own investigation. “It’s an excellent idea, Mac,” she said. “Frankly, I’m amazed you didn’t suggest it immediately.”

  “You are?”

  “Of course.” She was on the viewscreen as the two captains communicated ship to ship, and she was nodding slowly over the apparent wisdom of his request. “Not only does it make sense that you’re concerned, since Janos is your crewman, but this Gleau business is a delicate situation. Apparently Gleau put a number of noses out of joint, including my executive officer’s and my chief of security’s. And, frankly, he didn’t make my life any easier. All the logical people to take charge of an investigation on this ship have been compromised. I want everything done by the numbers, and Kebron would be an outsider who also has some familiarity with the principles. It’s certainly better than bringing in a Starfleet IAD to handle it. Which, of course, we’ll probably have to do eventually, but the more groundwork we can cover on our own, the better. But then, I’m sure you already thought of that.”

  “Well, naturally,” said Calhoun immediately.

  “Tell Mr. Kebron that we will be happy to extend our fullest cooperation.”

  “I never doubted it for a moment,” Calhoun assured her.

  iii.

  Shelby was waiting for him in the transporter room when Zak Kebron materialized aboard the Trident. “Oh” was the first thing she said. Then, obviously recalling more appropriate reactions to have under such circumstances, she added, “Welcome aboard, Mr. Kebron. I only wish the circumstances were better for a reunion.”

  Kebron couldn’t understand her initial reaction, but then he realized. “Ah. Yes,” he said. “This is the first time you’ve seen me since my recent change.”

  “Yes, Captain Calhoun mentioned something about that.” She looked him up and down. “Your skin seems so much smoother…and a different shade of brownish gray. And you seem…what’s the word…”

  “Chattier?”

  “That’s not what I was thinking,” she said, “but it’ll do. Come. You’ll want to be seeing Mr. Janos, I suspect.”

  “If that doesn’t pose a problem.”

  “Not at all.” They headed out into the corridor. Kebron noticed that crewmen were staring at him as he passed. He’d forgotten what that was like, since the crew of the Excalibur had grown accustomed to him. There were not that many Brikar in Starfleet, so the sight of one of his hugely proportioned race was a novelty for the Trident crew.

  “So you…grew up? Is that it? All at once?” she asked.

  “I had been the equivalent of what you would consider a teenager, yes,” said Kebron.

  “Well, that would certainly explain the surliness and reticence. And then you…grew out of it?�
�

  “More or less. But certainly the details of Brikar biology are secondary to the issue at hand, don’t you agree?”

  She looked taken aback at the way he’d expressed it, but she recovered quickly. “Yes, I’d definitely agree. Here. You should have this.” She handed him a blue isolinear chip. “This is a record of the entire investigation up to this point, so you can bring yourself up to speed. I’ll set you up with a space you can work out of. You can learn as much about this as we’ve learned, and take it from there.”

  “I’ll have free access to all suspects?”

  “Suspects?” She stopped, turned, and looked up at Kebron. “Mr. Kebron, just so we understand each other…there’s no plural of ‘suspect’ here. Ensign Janos did it. The DNA information doesn’t lie.”

  “To say the case is open-and-shut based on DNA information alone is premature, Captain. Any number of further explanations present themselves.”

  “Such as?”

  He ticked off possibilities on his fingers. “The DNA information could have been falsified through means we have not discovered. Ensign Janos could have been under some sort of mind control. Some sort of duplicate, ranging from a clone to an alternate version from some parallel universe, could be responsible. Someone with a long-standing grudge against both Janos and Gleau could have committed the murder and then planted the evidence.”

  “Those don’t sound like very likely scenarios, Lieutenant.”

  “Well, Captain, Ensign Janos as a cold-blooded murderer doesn’t sound like a very likely scenario to me. That’s why I’m here. To see which unlikely scenario is the truth.”

  “Very well, Lieutenant. You can certainly count on our help in discovering it. All we care about is the truth.”

  “I never doubted that, Captain Shelby.”

  The “command center” that Shelby had arranged for Kebron was perfectly adequate for his needs, and he reviewed the case information on the chip. It was more or less as Shelby had described it. All the physical evidence pointed to Janos. What was missing was motive. What possible reason did Janos have to shred Gleau?