Star trek double helix, p.109
Star Trek - Double Helix, page 109
His gaze shifted to Mark McHenry. McHenry was exactly as Riker had seen him before. He was tilted back in his chair, his eyes closed. He wasn’t snoring. He didn’t even quite seem alive. No one else on the bridge, however, was taking notice of it.
Shelby noticed what had caught his attention, and she smiled slightly. “I went through the same thing,” she said. “Trust me…it’s fine. He’s completely attuned to the ship. Check if you want.”
Riker paused, wondering how one could possibly “check” such a thing. Then a thought occurred to him. He walked over to the tactical section of the bridge, quietly gesturing for the man on duty there to step aside. He did so and Riker glanced over the array. He tapped a control…and the ship’s primary defense shields snapped on. There was no signal of an alert, although there was a slight rerouting of energy that was part of the natural defense systems process.
The effect on McHenry was instantaneous. He sat bolt upright, glancing at his board and looking at the main screen at the same time. “Are we under attack?” he asked.
Riker couldn’t believe it. He looked to Shelby, who shrugged in a “told you so” manner.
“He’ll do,” Riker said after a moment, and then walked out of the bridge with Lefler right behind him, leaving a puzzled McHenry checking his readouts.
They walked briskly down the corridor, Lefler saying, “Ensign Beth down in engineering said that Burgy is down in the holodeck, working out. She checked with Burgy, though, who said we should feel perfectly free to come by.”
“‘Burgy’ is what you call him?”
“That’s what everybody calls hir. Hermats have their own pronouns. ‘Hir (H,I,R)’ and ‘s/he.’”
He shook his head. “Hard to be—”
Then he stopped as a woman headed down the hall toward him. She was a dark-haired, older woman, with a rather aristocratic air about her. And she looked stunningly familiar.
“Hello, honey,” she nodded to Robin.
Lefler kissed the woman lightly on the cheek. “Mom…this is Captain William Riker. He’s in temporary command of the ship while Captain Calhoun is on another assignment. Captain, this is my mother, Morgan Lefler.”
“An honor.” She shook his hand firmly and then tilted her head in polite confusion. “Is something wrong, Captain?”
“It’s just that…” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “You just…you remind me of the mother of someone else I know.”
“It’s entirely possible, I suppose. I have gotten around quite a bit.”
“Mom’s very long lived,” Robin said cheerfully.
“Aren’t they all,” Riker said. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. “I’m…sorry, Mrs. Lefler. It’s just…the resemblance is uncanny.”
“Yes, I’m sure it is. Well, you go on about your business; I’m sure you have far more important things to do than standing around, ogling me. I’ll see you for dinner, Robin,” and with that, she headed off down the hallway.
“Incredible,” Riker said as he watched her go. “They could be twins. It’s like looking at the same woman. Voice, attitude, everything.”
“Captain—?”
He shook it off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t allow myself to get distracted by things that probably don’t mean anything.”
They chatted about assorted other matters as they walked to the holodeck. When they arrived, Riker leaned close to the door, frowning. He could have sworn he heard something that sounded like…growling. “What is Burgoyne doing in there?” he asked.
“Let’s find out.” She tapped the control padd on the doors and they obediently slid open.
The sight that greeted them upon entering was a rather astounding one.
Burgoyne was dressed in a skintight workout suit, and s/he was surrounded by a forest environment. There was a vista of trees as far as the eye could see. The ground was uneven around them, with dirt and gravel that made traction difficult. At that moment, Burgoyne was perched in a tree, crouched on a branch, and s/he had hir mouth drawn back in a feline snarl like a cornered cat.
Below her was roaring a massive creature with thick white fur, leaping up at hir and swinging its clawed hands, trying to get a piece of hir and drag hir down from the branch.
“Lieutenant Commander Burgoyne,” Lefler said, “this is—”
Burgoyne leaped from the branch, seeming not to have heard Lefler or even noticed her presence or that of Commander Riker. Hir speed carried hir between the outstretched arms of what looked to Riker like a white furred monster, and drove the creature flat onto its back. They rolled across the floor together, hissing and snarling at each other. Then the monster braced itself and twisted, hurling the lighter but more agile Burgoyne back. S/he landed on hir feet, and the way that s/he had her hands poised, s/he looked for all the world as if s/he had claws.
Riker had had enough. “Lieutenant Commander, I hate to break in on your exercise…”
And suddenly Burgoyne was flattened from behind.
What looked to Riker’s surprised eyes like a white furred creature was atop hir, roaring its fury. Burgoyne twisted around within its grasp and grabbed it by either wrist. S/he managed to get the creature’s hands from around hir throat, but apparently it was everything s/he could do to stop it from tearing hir to pieces.
“Computer, freeze program!” shouted Riker. Burgoyne, intent on hir opponent, didn’t seem to hear him.
The creature was straddling Burgoyne, and appeared to be doing its level best to kill the struggling Hermat.
Believing there to be a holodeck malfunction, Riker didn’t hesitate. He charged toward the creature and leaped onto its back. He braced himself, putting all his strength into trying to haul the monster off Burgoyne. It didn’t seem to be paying any attention to him at all, focusing all its efforts on annihilating its chosen prey. For that matter, Riker wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do in the event that the monster actually noticed him, because the odds were that it could kill Riker without any great effort. But Riker was determined that he wasn’t going down without a struggle.
He saw Lefler standing there…and she was shaking her head, looking more bemused than anything. He couldn’t understand it. Here she was faced with a clear emergency, and she didn’t seem to have a clue how to react. “Security! Get security down here!” Riker shouted.
“Commander,” Lefler began, “this is—”
Burgoyne snarled, trying to fight back, but s/he seemed to be losing the struggle.
“I gave you a direct order, dammit! Now follow it!”
With a troubled frown, she tapped her comm badge. “Security, this is Lefler, in holodeck 4A. Get someone down here, fast.” But there was absolutely no sense of urgency in her voice.
Is everyone around here insane? Riker wondered as he redoubled his efforts to haul the creature off Burgoyne. And if he did manage to accomplish that feat, his only hope then was that Burgoyne would recover quickly enough to aid him in subduing the creature. Or at the very least, they could hold out long enough for security to get there. And why was Lefler just standing around? Granted, she was rather slight in comparison to Riker and Burgoyne, but dammit, she could certainly find something to do besides just watching it happen.
The doors slid open and a walking land mass entered. The security guard took up the entirety of the door frame. When he moved, it was slow and ponderous. He had no neck, his head apparently attached directly to his shoulders, and his skin in the dim lighting of the holodeck looked like solid granite.
“Hi, Zak,” said Robin.
“Hello. You called?” he rumbled.
Riker couldn’t believe it. They genuinely were all insane. A security officer had just walked into the middle of what was clearly a life-and-death holodeck malfunction, and he didn’t seem quite clear on what had to be done.
“Stop this thing before it kills someone!” shouted Riker.
The guard called Zak stood there for a moment, taking in the situation. He didn’t move. Instead he spoke four words:
“Janos.” Zak shouted, “Janos! Knock it off.” Zak’s loud voice almost shook the moon.
The white furred creature stopped in its tracks. Then, with a sigh, it stood fully upright rather than in the hunched position it had been using until that point. Riker was still hanging on its back, dumbfounded.
“Sir? If you don’t mind?” asked the creature, and the question was clearly addressed to Riker. “Apparently, this exercise period is over.” Riker, feeling as if sanity was slipping away from him, released his grip and dropped to the floor. Burgoyne, for hir part, was picking hirself off the floor and dusting hirself off.
Zak looked back to Lefler. “Anything else?”
“No, that should about do it.”
He inclined his chest slightly, which was his equivalent of nodding, and then he turned and walked back out the door.
VIII.
GERRID THUL WAS EMINENTLY pleased as he looked around the room of dead men.
That might not have been the most accurate of terms, he reasoned. Not all of them were men, for starters. A goodly number of males of the species were there, yes, but there was a vast array of females as well. All equally deserving, equally titled, equally dead. And to be absolutely, one hundred percent correct, he would have to admit that none of them were actually, in point of fact, dead.
Yet.
Never had the word “yet” been so delicious, held so much promise. Yet. Definitely, indisputably, yet.
As he walked through the grand reception hall that hosted the first of what was intended to be a number of gatherings celebrating the bicentennial, he couldn’t help but be satisfied, and even amused, at the way that others within the Federation were reacting to him. There were nods, smiles, a polite wink or two. And many, ever so many requests for “just a few moments” of his time that invariably expanded into many minutes.
He had been careful, so very careful in making his contacts. And what had been so elegant about the entire matter was that those poor, benighted fools in the Federation had a tendency to side with the underdog. And that was something that Thul had very much seemed. A man who was once great, who had lost everything, and who was now trying to build himself back up to a position of strength and influence. He had come to people seemingly hat in hand, unprepossessing, undemanding. And he played, like a virtuoso, upon one of the fundamental truths of all sentient beings: Everyone liked to feel superior to someone else. It made them comfortable. It made them generous. And best of all, it made them sloppy and offered a situation that General Thul could capitalize upon.
Of course, Vara Syndra had helped.
“Where is Vara this fine evening?” assorted ambassadors and high muck-a-mucks in the Federation asked. But Thul had held her back, and not without reason. Best to build up anticipation, to get them to want to see her, ask about her, look around and try to catch a glimpse of her. Vara knew her place, though, and also knew that timing was everything. She would remain secreted away until the appropriate time had presented itself, and then he would send for her.
He had a feeling that the time was fast approaching.
“Thul! General Thul!” came a hearty voice that Thul recognized instantly. He turned to see Admiral Edward Jellico approaching.
He did not like Jellico. That, in and of itself, was nothing surprising; he didn’t like any of them, really. But Jellico was a particularly pompous and officious representative of humanity. Thul hoped against hope that he might somehow actually be able to see Jellico when the death throes overtook him, but that didn’t seem tremendously likely. He would have to settle for imagining it. Then again, Thul had a famously vivid imagination, so that probably wouldn’t present too much of a difficulty.
“Edward!” returned Thul cheerfully, perfectly matching the pitch and enthusiasm of Jellico’s own voice. He had to speak loudly to make himself heard over the noise and chatter of the packed ballroom. Furthermore, all around him the scents of various foods wafted toward him. Thul had a rather acute sense of smell, and the array was nearly overwhelming to him. Some seemed rather enticing while others nearly induced his gag reflex, so it was quite an effort to keep it all straight within him. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”
“And you as well, General.” He gestured to those who were accompanying them. One was another human, a tall and powerfully built human female. The other was a rather elegant-looking Vulcan with graying hair, and that annoying serenity that Vulcans seemed to carry with them at all times. “This is Admiral O’Shea,” he said, pointing to the female, “and this is Ambassador Stonn. Admiral, Ambassador, General Thul of the Thallonian Empire.”
“The late Thallonian Empire, I fear,” said Thul. He bowed in O’Shea’s direction, and then gave a flawless Vulcan salute to Stonn. “Peace and long life,” he said.
“Live long and prosper,” replied Stonn.
One of us will, thought Thul.
“I’m familiar with your good works, Thul,” said O’Shea. “As I recall, you were working just last month to seek more humanitarian aid for refugees from Thallonian space.”
“Actually,” Thul told her, “I have been looking into expanding my efforts. You see, in exploring what needs to be done to help our own refugees, I have stumbled upon other races that could use aid as well. Aid…which is sometimes hampered by the Federation.”
“Hampered? How so?” asked Stonn.
“It is…ironic that I would bring this up now,” Thul said, looking quite apologetic. “We are, after all, here to celebrate the signing of the Resolution of Non-Interference, one of the keystone documents of the entire Federation.”
“Yes. So?”
“So, Admiral O’Shea…it may be time to revisit the entire concept of the prime directive. All too often…and I truly do not wish to offend with my sentiments…”
“Please, General, say what you feel,” Jellico urged him.
“Very well. It seems that, all too often, the intent of the prime directive is corrupted. The letter is followed when the spirit is violated.” He noticed that several other people had overheard him and were now attending his words as well. Superb. The larger audience he had, the better he liked it. “The fact is that the prime directive was created specifically so that more advanced races would not harm less developed races. But too many times, we encounter situations where it is specifically cited as a reason not to help those races. Starfleet stands by, watches them fumble about, and simply takes down notes while observing from hidden posts. Think, my friends. Think, for example, of a small child,” and his voice started to ache with imagined hurt, “a small boy, dying of a disease…the cure for which is held by those who look down from on high. But do they help? Do they produce a medication that will save him? No…no, my friends, they do not. They bloodlessly watch, and take down their notes, and perhaps they’ll log the time of death. And who knows if that child might not have grown up to be the greatest man, inventor, thinker, philosopher, leader of that race. The man who could bring that race into a golden age, cut off…in his youth. What would it have hurt…to help that child? And what tremendous benefit might have been gained. Who among you could endorse such a scenario…and believe it to somehow serve a greater good?”
There was dead silence from those within earshot. Finally, Stonn said, “A very passionate observation, Thul. At its core, there may even be some valid points. However…interference invites abuse. It was an earthman who stated that power tends to corrupt…and absolute power corrupts absolutely. For all of the positive scenarios that you can spin, I am certain that I would easily be able to create plausible hypotheticals of abuse of that selfsame power.”
“What Ambassador Stonn is saying,” said Admiral O’Shea, “is that if the non-interference directive is, as you postulate, an error…isn’t it better to err on the side of caution?”
“Two hundred years ago, perhaps. I will certainly grant you that. But of what use is experience if one does not learn from it,” replied Thul. “There are people who need help and don’t even know that they do. Besides, is not human history rife with such ‘interference’? Were there not more advanced members of the human race who went to less-developed, undernourished or undereducated areas and brought them technology…advancement…even entire belief systems?”
“And in many instances did as much harm as good,” Jellico said. “There was also conquest, to say nothing of entire races of people who were annihilated by germs and strains of diseases that their own immune systems were completely unequipped to handle.”
“Ultimately, however,” and Thul smiled, “things seem to have worked out for you.”
“Yes, because we found our own way.”
“Or perhaps in spite of finding your own way. Think, though. If older, wiser, more advanced races such as yours, and all those represented in this room were to use their experience, their knowledge of the mistakes that they themselves made to avoid mistakes in the future…” He shook his head. “Don’t you see. But when there is want and need by other races who have never even heard of the Federation, and who could benefit so tremendously by the help…”
