ship with a thought if she were so inclined? How the hell was that going to go? Not particularly well, he had to think.
Then he yanked his thoughts back to the here and now. This was not the time for long-term planning. He needed to find a way to save his brother. If he were on his own ship, there was every chance that the sickbay might have the means to deal with the catastrophic nerve damage that D’ndai had suffered. Here, on Xenex, where the medical facilities were still fairly primitive…
“You must be out of your mind.”
It was a soft, low female voice, one that he recognized instantly.
Many Xenexians were still cheering, but some were now watching in confused silence, unsure of where this new arrival had come from. She had simply popped into existence, out of nowhere, wearing a Starfleet uniform and a contemptuous expression. She was standing over M’k’n’zy, the hero of Xenex, and speaking in a taunting manner. That alone was enough to prompt several of them to want to kill her just on principle, but they held themselves in check.
“How dare you,” said Calhoun with a snarl, “disguise yourself as my wife.”
“We are the D’myurj. We appear as we wish.”
“Then die as we wish,” said Calhoun, and without hesitation he brought up his phaser and took aim.
“You’re just going to hit one of your own people,” said “Shelby.” “I’m not really here.”
Calhoun frowned and then saw that the being standing in front of him wasn’t casting a shadow. It was true; she was just a mirage.
“You see?” she continued. “You see how I’m being solicitous of your peoples’ safety? More than you are, I should observe. This person is mortally wounded on your behalf and that one over there,” and she indicated the woman who had been badly burned and was being carried away by several Xenexians to seek medical aid, “has only one chance in three of surviving, judging by the severity of the damage she sustained.”
Calhoun wanted to snarl at her that the mortally wounded person she so casually referred to was his brother. But he caught himself; why give her the knowledge of the emotional blow he had just sustained? Instead what he needed right then was information, something that he could conceivably use against this… this creature. “I thought you D’myurj and the Brethren had had a falling-out. That you were no longer allies.”
“That is true for many of my misbegotten race. But not I. I had the foresight to forge a different agreement with the Brethren; one that would take all of us to a more positive destiny than my weak-willed kin, who were dedicated to shepherding along the development of other races rather than taking charge as we should rightly do.”
That was when Calhoun knew who he was dealing with. Soleta had described to him the insufferably smug member of the D’myurj she had encountered back on AF1963, the one who had turned traitor against his own species and set the Brethren against them. This was his handiwork.
“Shelby” knelt near him as if she were about to give him friendly words of advice, wife to husband. “Listen to me carefully, Calhoun. You’re a smart fellow; you can’t possibly think this is going to be the end of it. The Brethren will come and they will arrive in force. And your fellow Xenexians can celebrate all they want, but ultimately, anyone who stands between the Brethren and you is going to die. Is that what you want to bring down upon your people? Death and destruction? When the Brethren return, your only chance will be to surrender. In fact, if you tell me right now that you surrender, the ship will beam you up and you will be brought to us with no more danger to any of your people.”
And without hesitation, Calhoun was ready to agree to it. It was the simplest way to avoid any further horrors visited upon the innocent Xenexians.
But before he could speak, D’ndai’s hand suddenly gripped his forearm with astounding strength. Calhoun looked down at his brother, surprised.
D’ndai spoke with effort, gasping for every breath. He sounded as if his lungs had collapsed, which they very well might have. “They could… could beam you up… right now… now that they… know where… you are…”
Calhoun realized that his brother was right. How could something as patently obvious as that have eluded him? They had a direct sightline to him, and he knew the Brethren had