Star Trek: New Frontier®: Blind Man’s Bluff Read online

  That might be a far more dangerous accomplishment than the sender of the impulse had anticipated.

  With the thought comes the deed, and Morgan Primus sends the merest fraction of her essence—which in and of itself would still be powerful enough to bring an entire planetary system crashing down around itself—back along the impulse channel and into the source with the intention of facing the person who had sent it.

  She accomplishes that goal, and the conversation with the individual seeking her attention does not go remotely the way she is expecting.

  Starfleet Headquarters

  Nanoseconds Later

  Admiral Nechayev had left explicit orders with her aide that she was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. He had appeared mildly puzzled as to the instructions. But his job was to obey, not to question, and he did his job perfectly. Nechayev then put herself behind her desk, tilting back in her chair and placing her feet upon it, projecting the most relaxed manner that she could. It was important to convey, in every manner available to her, that this was not a meeting intended to be confrontational in any way. Certainly body language was a key component in that.

  She didn’t think she was going to have to wait long, and in that respect she was absolutely right.

  The air in front of her began to shimmer in a manner that was not dissimilar to a transporter beam. Most senior Starfleet personnel now had holotechnology installed, since holo-meetings were rapidly replacing the boring old process of staring at someone on a flat monitor screen. Indeed, Nechayev wondered why it had taken this long to accomplish that. Of course, the incoming individual was capable of utilizing the technology in manners far beyond what others could pull off. Most people who engaged in holo-conferencing had avatars to represent them. Morgan Primus inhabited hers as only a computer entity could.

  Seconds later, she had fully materialized in front of Nechayev. She had a look of both mild irritation and curiosity, as if affronted that Nechayev had chosen to engage her attention in such an intrusive manner, but simultaneously wondering what it was that could have prompted her to do so.

  “Hello, Morgan,” said Nechayev, and then added solicitously, “Do you mind if I call you Morgan?”

  “If it pleases you to do so,” Morgan replied carefully.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “I know who you are. I know who your aide is. I know who your direct superiors are, your immediate underlings, and the name of every person in every room of this building,” Morgan said. “I think you will find, Admiral, that there is very little in this entire galaxy that I don’t know.”

  “Do you know why I summoned you here?”

  “You didn’t summon me,” Morgan said, an edge to her voice. “No one ‘summons’ me. You caught my attention in such a way that I felt prompted to investigate.”

  “Phrase it however you wish,” said Nechayev with a languid wave of her hand, as if the entire conversation was already of little interest to her. “The point remains: Do you know why you’re here?”

  “I have my suspicions,” said Morgan guardedly.

  “I’d be interested to hear them.”

  “Very well.” She squared her shoulders, remaining where she was. “The last time I visited Starfleet headquarters, I had a bit of a tête-à-tête with Admiral Jellico regarding my daughter. I made some comments that he may well have taken to be threats.”

  “Were they?”

  “I prefer to think of them as warnings.”

  “Warnings in the same way that a shot fired off the port bow is a warning?”

  “Something along those lines.” Morgan scowled. “Your data file indicates that you don’t have any children, Admiral, nor even a spouse.”

  “I’ve always been married to Starfleet.”

  “Whatever,” she said dismissively. “The point is, if you don’t have any children, then you cannot possibly know the emotions that are stirred within a protective mother, especially when it seems that the entirety of such a powerful organization as Starfleet is aligning against her.”

  “I can imagine that they would be quite intense.”

  “You seem a bit amused, and I don’t consider this remotely funny.”

  “If I seem amused, Morgan, it’s not because I’m not taking you seriously. I’m amused because you’re quite possibly the most brilliant entity in existence, and you don’t have the slightest clue why you’re here. It has nothing to do with your daughter.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “Not a damned thing, no.”

  Nechayev wasn’t sure, but it seemed to her that Morgan looked slightly crestfallen. “Shall I tell you why I wanted to see you?”

  Morgan made no attempt to hide her irritation. “Unless you think that wasting my time for a prolonged period is somehow worthwhile.”

  “That depends: Do you think saving your life is a waste of your time?”

  “That’s ridiculous. First of all, my ‘life,’ such as it is, is beyond your comprehension. Second, no one could possibly threaten it.”

  “Really.” Nechayev steepled her fingers. “Not even Mackenzie Calhoun?”

  “Calhoun?” She snorted. “Mac might make noises about being uncomfortable with the amount of influence I have over the ship, but that’s to be expected.”

  “Is it?”

  “Of course.” For the first time, Morgan began to move, taking a leisurely stroll around the office. “He’s been in charge of one thing or another going all the way back to his childhood when he led his people in revolt against oppressors. So it’s natural that he’s going to have some… well, some issues when it comes to matters of control. But there are no actions he could take against me. He would be insane even to try, and if there’s one thing Mac is not, it’s insane.”

  “He may not be insane, but he is most definitely planning actions against you. That much I know.”

  Morgan laughed, as if the entire notion wasn’t worth consideration. “That’s absurd.”

  “It’s not. He’s working toward finding a way to eliminate you from the Excalibur once and for all. So tell me honestly, Morgan: Once Mackenzie Calhoun puts his mind to something—based upon your knowledge of him—what are the chances that he’s simply going to back off from it, as opposed to finding a way to accomplish his goal?”

  Morgan looked as if she was ready to say something, but then her mouth clicked shut without reply.

  The fact that she was taking the admiral’s words seriously were enough to buoy Nechayev’s spirits. “I know what you’re thinking,” she began.

  “I can process billions of bits of information in an instant,” Morgan retorted. “Don’t you even begin to believe that you know what I’m thinking at any moment.”

  Nechayev allowed that bit of bravado to pass uncommented upon. “You’re thinking, ‘Why is she telling me this? What possible reason could she have for taking the extraordinary means of drawing me to this place at this time, for the purpose of telling me that Mackenzie Calhoun is conspiring against me?’” She waited in silence for Morgan to contradict her, knowing that the contradiction would never come.

  It, in fact, did not.

  Embracing that small but important victory, a smiling Nechayev sauntered toward the scowling Morgan. “Morgan,” she began, “I am many things, and have been accused of even more things. But the one thing that no one has ever accused me of—although you came perilously close just now, I will admit—is being stupid. I am, in fact, extremely perceptive. You’re talking to the woman who was able to see the potential in Mackenzie Calhoun at a time when he was considered utterly incorrigible, a waste of the time and effort that Starfleet put into training him.”

  “Good for you,” said Morgan, but there seemed to be considerably less defiance and arrogance in her voice than there had been even a minute earlier.

  Nechayev took this as a good sign.

  “Once upon a time,” the admiral continued, “I would have been called a seer. People would have assumed that I had some mystic
ability to see the future. I probably would have been burned alive.”

  “You still may be. The day’s young.”

  She ignored her. “The truth is that I am simply very skilled at seeing the way things are now, and preparing for the way things are going to be. What it comes down to is this: I’ve studied the circumstances that brought you into existence, and I certainly know Calhoun’s capabilities better than anyone else. And I’ve considered all the possible outcomes of an extended battle between you and Mac, and am repeatedly forced to the same conclusion: You’re going to win in the end.”

  Morgan studied her. “So you’re saying… what? That you want to be sure you’re on the winning side?”

  “I’m saying far more than that. I want to avoid a fight between you and Calhoun altogether. The potential for collateral damage is incalculable. At the very least, we’re talking about the death of everyone on the Excalibur.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said dismissively. “That would never happen.”

  “Oh no?” Nechayev’s voice was grim. “Let’s say that Calhoun mounted an offensive that was on the verge of working, and that it took the combined efforts of everyone on the vessel to accomplish it. Let’s say it came down to you and them. What’s the simplest answer? What would you do in order to survive?”

  “That would never—”

  “Denying it isn’t an answer. If you felt truly threatened,” she pressed relentlessly, “if it was truly you or them, what could you do to stop them?” Morgan didn’t respond immediately, and Nechayev prompted her, “We both know. You can say it.”

  When Morgan spoke, her voice was as flat and mechanical as any computer voice ever was. “I could vent the ship.”

  “Exactly. Blow out every hatch, vent the air. Blast every living thing on the ship into space and let the vacuum have them. That’s not only what you could do, but what you would do. And that’s the best-case scenario. The worst case is that you lash out at every living being, like an angry god.”

  “That would never happen,” but Morgan didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

  “We both know that’s not true,” Nechayev said. “And at the end of it all, you’ll still be standing while the rest of us are floating corpses in the depths of space.”

  “What do you think I am,” Morgan said, bristling, “that I would do such a thing? I’m not a monster.”

  “I beg to differ. That is precisely what you are.” Nechayev was implacable. “You’re not human. There is nothing like you in existence. You exceed the AI capabilities of such entities as Commander Data, and your potential for destruction is virtually limitless. Doctor Frankenstein in his laboratory could not have crafted something more threatening to all humankind. You are a monster, Morgan, and there are only two things left to be determined: just how much of a monster you are, and whether I’m going to ally myself with you or with the angry villagers armed with torches and pitchforks. For my own sake and the sake of countless lives, I’m opting for the former. So the only thing left for you to decide is whether you’re going to take advantage of that proposed alliance, or if you’re going to exist in a state of denial until everything I’ve said will happen does, in fact, happen.”

  Morgan disappeared.

  It wasn’t what Nechayev had expected. That alone was disturbing to her since, as she prided herself on being able to predict all possibilities, the notion that Morgan would simply vanish without saying another word wasn’t something that she had anticipated happening.

  Concerned, she turned toward her desk and then gasped as she abruptly found herself nose to nose with a scowling Morgan. She jumped back out of reflex and then composed herself as quickly as she could.

  “I’ve been giving a great deal of thought to what you’ve said,” said Morgan.

  “Oh, have you indeed? Because from where I’m standing, you disappeared for five seconds and then popped up behind me to… I don’t know, scare the hell out of me.”

  Morgan gave her a pitying look. “I can give something the human equivalent of a lifetime of thought in five seconds. Several lifetimes, in fact.”

  “All right,” said Nechayev, choosing not to press matters. “And what has all that pondering led you to conclude?”

  With her hands draped behind her back, Morgan did a slow circle of Nechayev, who found that action disconcerting for no reason she could readily express. “There are things you are not telling me,” Morgan said. “I’m certain of that much. You say you’re concerned about the security of the Federation, but I think there are other things at play here. The only question is whether those other things are of any relevance to me.” Before Nechayev could respond, Morgan continued on the thought. “As of this point, I have to think the answer is no. Let your motivations be your own. If Mac is truly determined to try and get rid of me, then I have larger considerations. More than anything… more than anything,” she added emphasis in order to show how serious she was, “I need to be able to go on in order to protect Robin.”

  “Your daughter?”

  Morgan nodded. “It is a dangerous galaxy out there, and she is alone in it. She needs me to be available to her as a resource. I’ve been trying to give her distance. She wants to make her own way, and I respect that. But sooner or later, she is going to need me, and I have to be there for her and for my grandson. Mackenzie Calhoun can be extremely formidable, and even if the odds of his disposing of me are a million to one, there is still that one that cannot be accounted for. So if some additional advantage is being presented to me, then I have to seize it.”

  “I think you’re making a wise decision,” said Nechayev diplomatically.

  “Oh, good. The opinion of a traitor to her people means a lot to me.”

  Nechayev didn’t respond.

  Morgan stopped her circling, which was of some relief to Nechayev. “So,” said Morgan, “what’s Calhoun’s plan?”

  “His plan?” Nechayev echoed.

  “Yes, his plan.” Morgan let her annoyance show. “You’re supposed to be helping me. So tell me his plan to destroy me.”

  Nechayev shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat. “He hasn’t told me everything.”

  “What has he told you?”

  “In so many words—?”

  “Admiral…” Morgan said warningly.

  “Nothing,” she was finally forced to admit. “He hasn’t told me a damned thing.”

  “Well, that’s a lot of no help whatsoever.”

  “He’s being cautious. He’s not sure who he can trust, and so he’s not trusting anyone.”

  “That can’t be the case,” Morgan assured her. “Calhoun has many qualities, but a computer genius he is most definitely not. He’s going to require allies at some point.”

  “As soon as I find out—”

  “Do you have any reason to assume that he’s going to confide in you at some subsequent point, considering he hasn’t done so thus far?”

  She was loath to admit it, but there really was only one answer to that. “Probably not.”

  “Then how can you possibly be of any use to me?”

  “Because,” said Nechayev, “I know people. People who can, in fact, be of great use. It is simply a matter of determining the maximum effectiveness for them. And I have a plan that will suit both our needs.”

  “Do you?” Morgan sounded unconvinced but nevertheless intrigued.

  “I do indeed.”

  Nechayev then laid it out for her. It was a simple plan, really, as the best plans were, since they allowed for the fewest number of things to go wrong.

  Morgan listened to the entire thing, and Nechayev was heartened to see her nodding. When she finished describing the plan, Morgan didn’t answer immediately. Instead she considered it for a few more moments. Knowing the speed with which Morgan’s mind worked, Nechayev had to think that Morgan was giving it an insanely deep amount of consideration, trying to see the flaws and—with any luck—finding none.

  “All right,” Morgan said at
last. “I’m in.”

  “Excellent,” said Nechayev. “My allies and I thank you.”

  “I don’t give a damn about you or your allies. Just about me and my daughter and grandson. The rest of you can go hang for all I care.”

  “Be that as it may,” said the admiral diplomatically, “it’s my opinion that you are going to be a far greater ally to this office than Mackenzie Calhoun ever could be.”

  “It would certainly be preferable to having me as an enemy,” said Morgan and then, with a snap of her fingers that she doubtless tossed in for dramatic flair, Morgan Primus vanished from Admiral Nechayev’s office.

  Nechayev let out a low sigh, not realizing until that moment that she’d been holding her breath.

  This may have been a huge mistake, she thought, but realized there was no turning back. She would just have to live with the consequences of her decisions, presuming that—by the time all of this was done—living was still an option.

  Xenex

  Now

  It would never have happened if M’k’n’zy hadn’t been distracted. Never. His ability to perceive danger was simply too well honed to fall victim to something as obvious as a booby trap.

  But he was too preoccupied with concerns for both his own people and his crew. Making his way through a path in a mountain region, he realized only belatedly that his inner sense that so reliably warned him of danger was prickling at the nape of his neck. By the time he did so, it was too late. His ankle had hit the trip wire, and the trap was sprung. In his defense, it had been almost microscopically thin. No normal individual would have had any chance at all of spotting it. It was just that M’k’n’zy held himself to a higher standard.

  Fortunately for him, he was fast enough to avoid the result even though he had triggered it.

  Someone else would have been momentarily frozen with the realization of what he had done, and that would have been his undoing. Not M’k’n’zy, who leaped backward a split instant after having hit the trip wire. There came a rumble from above him and, as he deftly backpedalled out of the way, a massive pile of rocks tumbled down from overhead.