Authors: Unknown
"Do you find that thought attractive? Or do you wish to avoid the prospect of an 'us'?"
"I know that you're not interested in an 'us,'"
Burgoyne said, sounding rather defensive.
Selar drew herself up. "Do not presume to speak for me, Burgoyne. You do not even know your own mind.
Do not think you know mine."
"Know your mind!" Burgoyne said. "I can't even
find
your mind!"
"Oh, now you insult me. How very typical. How very emotional. I should have expected as much."
"Yes!" said Burgoyne, more loudly than s/he would have liked. When s/he realized that others were taking notice of the increasingly loud discussion, s/he started to pull Selar in the direction of hir office while saying in a low tone, "Yes, you should have expected it, because the rest of the galaxy is populated by people
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who laugh and cry and get really really angry, unlike Vulcans, who think they have a complete handle on emotions simply because they never use them! I—"
Selar had stopped. She was no longer following him. Instead her legs had become practically anchored to the floor and when Burgoyne tried to pull her along, s/he was completely unsuccessful. "Selar?"
s/he said in confusion. "Selar, what're you—"
Selar wasn't hearing hir. Instead all of her attention was focused on the warp core. And inside the clear tubing, the energy being—whatever the hell it was—
began to stir.
Slowly, one step at a time, Selar began to approach the warp core. "Where do you think you're going?"
demanded Burgoyne. Selar didn't respond. Instead she continued toward the core, as if hypnotically pulled. Suddenly Burgoyne began to feel extremely apprehensive for her. "Selar! Listen to me! Back away from that thing, right n—"
S/he grabbed Selar's arm, and Selar stiffened it and shoved hir back. Burgoyne was strong and agile, there was no denying it, but the abruptness and strength of Selar's gesture caught hir completely off guard. Burgoyne hurtled backward, slamming up against a wall array and sagging to the floor, stunned.
And Selar moved unceasingly toward the warp core, beginning to stretch out her hands as she did so.
The first thing that Shelby heard was singing.
The moment that the sound of the transporter beams faded, the lyrical singing floated through the air. It seemed an aimless tune; whoever was singing it appeared to be making it up as they went. Shelby
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looked around to see that Si Cwan, Kebron, and Soleta heard it as well.
There was a steady breeze blowing that was carrying the singing to them, and it appeared to be just up ahead. They had materialized on a pathway that led up the side of a small mountain, which gave Soleta a bit of stomach cramps considering that she had more than had her fill of mountains recently. But there was no helping it.
"What is that?" asked Shelby.
Soleta listened a moment more and then said, "Off-key."
"Thank you for your opinion, Lieutenant." She gestured for the others to follow and they slowly made their way up the moutainside.
As they got nearer, however, the aimless song—
which had seemed lighthearted at first, almost playful—became darker-sounding. The singer went to a voice that sounded more base and—if Shelby were to judge—more ominous.
They came around a curve in the path and suddenly the music stopped. And so did they.
They weren't quite certain that what they were seeing was real: a woman, so skinny that she seemed, more than anything, like a skeleton wearing a skin suit. She might have been someone released from a labor camp, or who had been tortured for a year behind enemy lines before being returned to her loved ones. She appeared to be human, or at least she had been. Her eyes were sunken, her hair somewhat stringy and unkempt. Her clothes, what there were of them, were in tatters.
And she was wrapped around something that
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looked rather daunting, her arms and legs clutching it as a drowning woman would a life preserver.
If Shelby had to guess, she would have said it was a weapon of some kind. It was hard to tell, however. It was cylindrical with what could very easily be a muzzle at one end. It appeared to be at least two yards high, and a foot in diameter.
"Is that . . . a weapon?" Si Cwan asked softly.
"If so, it is a big one," replied Shelby.
The weapon pointed straight up. The woman had stopped singing altogether, but she didn't seem to be completely aware that the away team was approaching her. "Hello," Shelby said in as quiet a voice as she could, for something in the air around her made her feel as if a hushed tone was required. Although she was armed, she made sure to keep her hands clear of her phaser. She didn't want to give the impression that she was hostile. Putting aside that she had no desire to frighten the woman, if that thing was indeed a weapon and the woman suddenly aimed it at her and fired, there would be nothing left of Shelby's upper body with the possible exception of a few fond memories. "I'm Commander Shelby,
U.S.S. Excalibur.
This is Lieutenant Soleta, Lieutenant Kebron, and Ambassador Si Cwan."
Si Cwan bowed slightly. "You're looking fit, madam."
Kebron looked at him incredulously. Si Cwan shrugged at him in a sort of
What did you expect me
to say?
manner.
"Would you like to tell us your name?" Shelby said.
The woman said nothing. She merely rocked back and forth, ever so slowly, and she looked into midair and appeared to see nothing.
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"Would you . . ." Shelby took a few more tentative steps forward, and didn't seem to get any particular reaction out of her. "Would you like to tell us where everyone else went? In case you didn't notice, this planet is fairly deserted. Was it deserted when you came here?"
And she spoke.
It was a frightening voice, a voice that sounded like the lid to a coffin slowly creaking open. It was difficult to determine just exactly how old or young the woman was, but her voice sounded like the voice of one who had been dead for centuries.
"They wanted to take away my lover," she told them.
"Oh," Shelby said sympathetically. "That's . . .
that's too bad. Who would 'they' be?"
"Them." She started to hum once more in that odd tone of hers. "All of them. But my lover, it's strong. It protects me. It protects us."
"May I ask who precisely it protected you from, ma'am?" Soleta inquired. "There doesn't seem to be anyone around."
For the first time, the woman seemed to focus on them. She looked at Soleta and there was something approaching demented amusement in her face.
"Not anymore," she said.
They looked at each other, and it was Si Cwan who said, with as much control as he could muster, "Are you saying that. . . your lover . . . got rid of all the people who wanted to separate the two of you?"
"It protects me. That's why it's a good lover."
"Listen," Si Cwan said. "Madam, you know, this would be easier if we knew your name."
"Should I tell them my name?" She was whispering
Peter David
to the large cylinder, talking to it as if it were a close friend. "Should I—yes. Yes, you're right, of course. It doesn't matter." She looked at them and said, "I am Tarella."
Immediately the name was familiar to Shelby. That was the name of the friend who had accompanied Morgan on her search for the Prometheans.
"Tarella," said Si Cwan. "Tarella, we have a very complicated situation here. But I am certain that we can work it out in such a manner that—" Then he paused. "Why do you say it doesn't matter if we know what your name is?"
"Because," said Tarella, "we're going to kill you now."
"You had to ask," muttered Kebron.
And he unslung his rifle.
Zak Kebron wasn't a big fan of phasers. He generally preferred to rely on his own strength and bulk.
However, the captain had ordered that they go armed, and he had obeyed the captain's instructions.
Normal-sized phasers, however, were even more problematic for him than they were for the large and hairy hands of Ensign Janos. He could operate a normal phaser, but it wasn't easy for him. So when he went on away missions, he generally preferred to carry a Type III phaser rifle. It was slung across his back and looked fairly impressive hanging there.
Now the phaser was in his hands, leveled at Tarella, and he thumbed it to a high setting as he warned her,
"Do not move or take any threatening physical action."
"You want to take my lover," Tarella said, her voice rising. "You want to take it away. But I won't let you.
It's mine. I won't let you take it away."
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"Tarella," Shelby said urgently, "there's someone back on our ship that you should really see. It's your friend, Morgan,"
The name seemed to have an effect on her. Her body trembled slightly and she clutched the weapon more tightly than before. And from her cracked and dry lips hissed out the words, "Morgan is dead. Don't you say her name."
"But—"
"Don't you say her name!!!"
And the weapon erupted.
"Down!" shouted Kebron, knocking the others back with a wave of his huge arm as he fired off a shot from his phaser rifle. The blast from the phaser rifle struck the energy ball disgorged by the weapon, by the lover, and it roared forward but off its intended flight path, deflected ever so slightly by Kebron's phaser blast.
The energy ball roared through the air. It missed them—but just barely—barreled through a clearing, and struck a mountain range.
And destroyed it.
The mountain range exploded on contact. The main brunt of the hit caused the range to be reduced instantly to ashes, but the rest of it erupted skyward, showering the entire area with pulverized debris. It rained down everywhere, including upon the stunned away team who had taken up refuge some feet away behind a wall of rock. Seeing, a half mile away, the complete demolition of a mountain range with one shot of the weapon that Tarella was clutching was enough to make the away team realize that their temporary shelter was going to shelter them from precisely nothing.
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Shelby hit her commbadge so hard she wound up leaving a bruise on her chest. "Away team to transporter room! Get us the hell out of here!"
Then they heard Tarella howl, "I don't want you! I don't want Morgan! And I don't want your ship!"
And with that pronouncement, she unleashed the power of the weapon straight up.
The shields came on automatically before Boyajian at tactical realized that they were under attack. The computer also sent the
Excalibur
into immediate red alert. "Captain, incoming!" shouted Boyajian. "Some sort of energy plasma! Readings off the scale!"
"McHenry, evasive maneu—" was all that Calhoun was able to get out as the energy ball smashed into the
Excalibur.
For all the good that the shields did, the ship might as well have been protected by plastic wrap. The energy ball slammed amidships into the vessel, and anyone standing throughout the entire ship was thrown to the ground.
Calhoun had been standing and moving toward the command chair when the ball hit. He was sent flying, crashing into Morgan and tumbling to the ground.
Morgan clutched the armrests of her chair desperately and managed to maintain her place, but the impact of the ball was the least of the problems.
McHenry's station nearly exploded as a concussive buildup blasted him back and out of his seat. McHenry smashed his head against the upper rampway and went limp, blood trickling from his mouth. The conn station was in complete disarray, flames starting to shoot out. Overhead extinguishing systems were out of commission, and Morgan desperately grabbed an emergency hand extinguisher in a wall compartment,
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staggering across the bridge to get to the conn and put the flames out.
The bridge filled with smoke. She tried to make out her daughter and saw that she was slumped forward at the Ops station, a huge swelling already appearing on her temple. She was barely conscious and trying to pull herself together. "All stations, report!" she managed to get out. "This is Ops, report status, all stations!"
The ship lurched, and Morgan managed to snag on to a chair and prevent herself from tumbling over. But then she saw the viewscreen, saw the planet lurching toward them . . . No. No, they were spiraling down toward the planet.
Morgan dropped into place at the conn station, tossing aside the extinguisher, and looked at the distressed readouts. If she was at all thrown by the calamitous nature of what she was facing, she gave no hint of it. As if she'd been doing it all her life, she began rerouting controls, trying to restore helm control so that she could pull the ship out of her dive . . .
before it was too late.
Burgoyne, for all hir cat-like reflexes, was nonetheless knocked off hir feet as the ship was hit hard.
And Selar stumbled forward and struck squarely the exterior of the warp core.
And deep within the warp core, the entity residing in there—whatever it was—seemed to move down toward Selar. She clutched the warp core tube as it coalesced within around the area that she was touching.
Burgoyne scrambled to hir feet, stumbled over toward Selar, and tried to pull her away. To hir
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surprise, s/he had absolutely no success at all. It was as if Selar were suction-cupped to the warp core and under no circumstance was she about to let go.
Her eyes were glazed, and her lips seemed to be trying to form a word, or words, but Burgoyne couldn't make any of them out. All s/he knew was that somehow, in some way, Selar was in direct connection with whatever the hell it was in the warp core. Since Burgoyne didn't know precisely what was going on, s/he wasn't sure if it was safe to try and pull her away.