Fire On High (23 page)

"Tarella and I believed that they were markers of some sort. Perhaps even beacons, a means of sum-moning the Prometheans, although we were not entirely sure how they would function."

There was stunned silence in the room for a moment.

"Look familiar?" Morgan asked drily.

Calhoun turned to Soleta and said quickly, "Go get it." Soleta was out of her chair like a shot.

This prompted a confused look from Morgan, who turned and stared up at Si Cwan and Lefler, who were standing nearby. "What am I missing?" she asked.

"You told me they'd be interested in the medallion.

You didn't go into any detail beyond that. Is there something I should know?"

"Perhaps," said Robin. "But you've been so busy being mysterious and hard to comprehend, that I thought it only fair to give you a bit of mystery right back. Seems equitable to me, don't you think?"

"Yes," Morgan said slowly, and clearly slightly amused by the situation. "Yes, I suppose it does at that."

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Moments later, Soleta had returned, and to Morgan's utter astonishment, she placed down on the table a disk that likewise had a flame emblem on it.

Slowly, her hand trembling, Morgan reached toward it.

"Captain . . ." Shelby said warningly, but Calhoun decided to go with his gut and waved Shelby off, indicating that they should let Morgan touch it. She picked it up, turned it over in her hands, and ran her fingers along the flame symbol engraved on it. She noticed immediately that, as opposed to the medallion she herself bore, the flame emblem was indented on this one.

Burgoyne, for hir part, seemed unimpressed.

"We're wasting our time with this, Captain," Burgoyne said urgently. "The smart move is to try and get back to a starbase out of Thallonian space. Some sort of facility that can help us in extracting Sparky from the warp core."

"There is no guarantee that any facility short of the shipyards in San Francisco would be capable of accomplishing such a feat, nor do we know if even they could do so," Soleta said reasonably. "Furthermore, we do not know the full abilities of this creature. Can you imagine if the efforts of unknowing Starfleet engineers should cause the creature—"

"Sparky," Burgoyne corrected her.

"The creature," continued Soleta, "to flee the containment of the
Excalibur
only to take up residence within the core of Earth itself, as the energy creature did on Thallon? That scenario would be catastrophic, to say the least."

"You're saying we're stuck out here?"

"I am saying, Chief, that if there are other options it
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would be wiser to explore them first, no matter how far-fetched."

"Captain," Morgan said cautiously, holding the faces of the medallion and the disk opposite each other. "Do you have any objections if . . . ?"

Her intention seemed self-evident and Calhoun weighed the possible consequences. "From where I sit," he finally decided, "I don't see as that we have a lot to lose. Go ahead. Let's see if rubbing the lamp will pull the genie out."

With a deep breath, Morgan slowly brought the two metal disks together. She couldn't help but notice that the diameters were a perfect match. And not only that, but with the slightest of turns to adjust, she clicked the flame emblem of her medallion into the recess of the disk handed her by Soleta.

She wasn't sure what she had expected. A flash of light, perhaps, or a sepulchral laugh. A surge of energy or a massive telepathic bolt that would cut straight to the very core of her soul and bond with her at a spiritual level. A Chinese gong. She had no idea, really.

Unfortunately, what she wound up getting was nothing.

She simply sat there, the disks in her hand. Nothing trembled, nothing vibrated. Nothing, in short, happened.

"Are we rescued from Sparky yet?" Calhoun asked drily.

"I don't understand it," Morgan said. But then, with more firmness of tone, she added, "But then again, I didn't necessarily expect to understand it.

There has to be more to it than this, Captain, and with any luck at all, the answer is on Ahmista."

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"Any luck at all is something we haven't had in abundance." He sat back in his chair, considering the matter a moment. "Ambassador, do you know anything about this Ahmista?"

"Not really," replied Si Cwan. "A fairly small population, the planet had no particular strategic value, and the residents were not especially advanced.

It was never considered a worthwhile use of Thai-Ionian resources to have much to do with them. We knew of them, but we never bothered with them."

"Fair enough," said Calhoun. "Do you know where Ahmista is?"

"I'm not McHenry, Captain," Si Cwan said with slight amusement. "I don't carry these matters around in my head. If I could see a starmap and our relative position on it . . ."

"Soleta?" prompted Calhoun.

Soleta punched it up on the computer terminal next to her and, moments later, the desired information appeared on the conference lounge viewscreen. It displayed all the known information about Thai-Ionian space that they had, and a blinking spot that marked the
Excalibur
's location. He studied it for a moment, and then pointed to a system that was not especially detailed. "Right here," he said. "This is it."

"There's no indicator of any planets there," Soleta noted,

"I think you'll find that the Federation is not in possession of any complete starmaps of Sector Two-twenty-one-G," said Si Cwan, using the Starfleet designation rather than referring to it as Thallonian space. "My people tended to be circumspect about such matters, even after the point that such circumspection was of any use to the greater good. Nonethe-197

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less, it is most definitely here. Three planets, with the outermost being the one she refers to as Ahmista."

Shelby leaned forward, studying the location. "At warp nine, it's still three days' journey from here.

That's a best guess on my part; McHenry could probably tell you down to the second. But that seems about right."

"Can we afford to go to warp nine, Burgy?" asked Calhoun.

"I think so," said Burgoyne slowly, although s/he didn't appear all that enthusiastic. "As near as we can tell, increased warp activity makes Sparky more active. Doesn't make him more hostile though. The only hitch is . . . well, it could accelerate his development or growth. In trying to track down someone who can help us with this situation, we may be exacerbating it."

"This entire business is a long shot at best, Captain," Shelby observed.

"Are you saying we shouldn't do it, Commander?"

"No. I'm just saying it's a long shot."

Calhoun considered the matter for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table in thought. And finally he said, "I don't want to have to give up this ship, people. Abandonment remains an option, but it's not one that I accept gladly. To say nothing of the fact that, if we do abandon, we have no guarantee that once we shove everyone into the saucer section and cut the Engineering hull loose, Sparky might not come out of the warp core and take up residence in the saucer section impulse engines, and then we'll be worse off than when we started. A long shot is better than no shot. Commander, have McHenry lay in a
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course for Ahmista. Burgoyne, monitor Sparky even more closely than you are now. Eat, sleep, and breathe in synch with his cycle if you have to, but stay on top of him. Understood?"

"Aye, sir."

"Captain," Lefler asked, "may my mother leave the brig?"

He studied Morgan appraisingly for a moment.

And then he said, "Your mother, Lieutenant, blew a hole in the door of shuttlebay two and almost cost Si Cwan his life, her subsequent actions notwithstand-ing. I don't trust her yet."

"I'm right here, Captain," Morgan commented.

"You don't have to speak of me in the third person."

"I don't trust you yet," amended Calhoun. "And until such time that I do, if ever, you can take up residence back in the brig where I don't have to expend any security forces for the purpose of keeping an eye on you."

Lefler started to protest, but Morgan was already on her feet and nodding her head in acquiescence. "I understand fully, Captain. Were I in your position, I would likely be doing the same thing. And I find that I have a fairly good track record at this point in noting what you will and will not do. Robin, Ambassador, I appreciate your efforts on my behalf. And now I believe my escort is waiting for me. Captain, may I keep this?" she asked, holding up the joined medallion.

"I would rather you didn't," he told her. "Keep your half if you wish, but return the other to Lieutenant Soleta, please."

She nodded and, with a slight effort, pulled the two
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apart. She handed the indented side back to Soleta and then said to Calhoun, "I appreciate your indul-gence in this matter, Captain."

"May I ask, Morgan, why you are suddenly being cooperative?" Calhoun inquired.

The others looked to her, clearly interested in the answer. "I wish I had an easy answer for you, Captain.

Perhaps I simply see more advantage in cooperating than not cooperating. Perhaps I think we can actually be of help to each other. Or perhaps . . ." She looked at Si Cwan. "You know, I thought, for all the time that I was incarcerated on Momidium, that I would do anything, absolutely anything, to achieve my freedom. And I discovered that, no, that wasn't the case.

There are some things that I wouldn't do to gain freedom. And I found that to be . . . heartening. Does that answer your question, Captain?"

"Not completely, no."

"Well, you may just have to live with that, Captain.

We all do to some degree or another."

He nodded in agreement, finding himself liking her in spite of himself, which was more than a little annoying.

200

XII.

SI CWAN, IN HIS OFFICE, studied the picture of Morgan Primus that remained on his computer screen. There was a slight flicker of power, but then the couplings righted themselves as the rerouted systems Burgoyne had cobbled together righted themselves. By this point, Cwan was barely noticing such fluctuations.

Like victims of any war-torn environment, difficulties that would once have seemed oppressive now had faded into mere background inconveniences.

He studied the woman's face carefully. Damn, but she was a striking individual. There was something within her, though, something that seemed to cry out of secrecy. Some deep and unending mystery at which he could only guess.

"She has old eyes," he said at last. To a Thallonian, that was a comment that had deep meaning. To have
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old eyes meant that one had an old soul, and was a rather experienced and spiritually elevated individual. Either that or it made a great pickup line when one wanted to compliment a female that one was interested in bedding.

He hadn't entirely made up his mind which it was for him yet.

There was a chime at the door. "Come," he said, leaning back in his chair.

To his utter surprise, Zak Kebron was standing there. As always, the massive Brikar seemed to fill the doorway.

Si Cwan's first thought was to wonder what sort of trouble he was in. He and Kebron had had a mutual antipathy, underscored by a sort of grudging respect for each other's personality and accomplishments.

The closest they had come to a true understanding was the realization that they would both far rather have each other as allies than enemies. Consequently they endeavored to minimize their conversation, limiting it to missions at hand, missions in the past, and missions in the near future. It made for fairly succinct discussions that consisted mainly of the imparting of specific data. This was a relationship that worked fine for both of them.

So it was with great surprise that Si Cwan saw Kebron standing at his door. "Is there a problem, Kebron?" he asked without hesitation.

"There is," Kebron said slowly. Kebron was the mortal enemy of the term "gregarious," likely to try and eliminate it from any dictionary in any language.

When he spoke it was with short, spartan sentences, although he was occasionally capable of a fairly
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morbid wit that even Si Cwan had to admit that he admired. "A problem that has to be addressed."

"A problem with me?" asked Si Cwan.

Kebron nodded. Since Kebron had virtually no neck, one of his nods more or less consisted of a slight bow.

"All right," said Si Cwan, slowly rising from behind his desk. "What is the nature of the problem? If there is anything I can do—"

"There is. When I point, say 'You're welcome.' "

"What?" Si Cwan stared at him. "I don't understand."

"I don't need your understanding. Just your cooperation." Kebron hadn't moved from the doorway.

"Can you do it?"

"Well, yes, of course, a child could do it,"