Fire On High (14 page)

"I'd be happy to honor your . . ." Burgoyne blinked a moment in confusion. "Your ring? What ring?"

"Well . . ." She cleared her throat. "Since you asked . . ."

In the conference lounge, Calhoun was holding up the disk, carefully examining it front and back. Standing directly behind him, looking over his shoulder, was Shelby. "I take it, Lieutenant, that despite your time already spent in this sector of space, that you've never seen anything like this?"

"No, sir, I have not," said Soleta. "The symbol on it has no particular meaning. The material itself is not
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especially abnormal. An alloy with a mix of at least twelve different elements to it. No internal circuitry that I can detect; it appears to be solid throughout."

"Looks like a metal hockey puck," Shelby observed.

"Since I'm unfamiliar with that device, I will take your word for it," Soleta said.

"And you said that it talked to you somehow? That it channeled some sort of a . . . a mind?"

"So it seemed, Captain. But to be honest, everything happened so quickly that it is difficult to know precisely what happened. It's as I described in my report: I touched it, I felt some sort of warmth, and suddenly there was this . . . this voice in my head.

Events unfolded rather quickly after that."

"Yes, so you said. Nice that you made it back in one piece." He sat back and said sadly, "I just wish that there had been something left there for us to study."

"As do I, Captain. Unfortunately, there's definitely nothing left. The force blast that blew off the top of the mountain was rather comprehensive. It was designed to obliterate everything that was there. From my firsthand observation, I would have to say that it more than did the job."

"And you're convinced," Shelby said, slowly walking along the interior of the room, "that the image you saw was Ontear.
The
Ontear of Zondarian history."

"That is my conclusion, yes."

"And mine as well," Calhoun reminded her. "I saw him, too, when I was a captive down there."

"You're not going to tell me this was a ghost, are you?" Shelby warned, clearly not sanguine over that prospect.

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"Far from it. I think he was all too real," said Calhoun.

Soleta was nodding as well. "From your accounts, Captain, and from my own experience, I believe that what we saw was a crude form of observational time travel. Ontear utilized technology that enabled him to project himself forward in time, to observe and, if he desired, interact with whatever he encountered while never truly leaving his own period of time. Since he amassed himself a considerable reputation as a seer, I would surmise that he pursued these endeavors within his local arena of time as well. There is not all that much difficulty in being a soothsayer—"

"If you have firsthand access to the sooth," Calhoun said. "Charming little deal he has worked out.

He goes to the future, watches it unfold, then in his own time he predicts its coming."

"But he had to be judicious about it," Shelby pointed out. "He had to do things in such a way that it wouldn't result in the future actually being changed.

That could have jeopardized the entire time line that he was trying to observe."

"From my preliminary research," Soleta told them,

"at least half of his predictions involved natural disasters. Warning people of floods, quakes, and such.

Nothing that foreknowledge could possibly have made any difference in."

"I disagree," said Calhoun. "Let's say that Citizen X was destined to die in a volcano. If Ontear targets the volcano, and Citizen X knows to get the hell out of there or he winds up roasted in lava, then history could indeed wind up being changed."

"We will never know for certain," Soleta admitted.

"Although I would like to think that, at the very least,
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he was selective in whom he dealt with and what particular moments, if any, he chose to interfere with.

He might have been bright enough to target the potential focal points in time that could seriously have disrupted the path of Zondarian history."

"We can only hope," sighed Calhoun. He slid the disk back across the table to Soleta. "Check this with Si Cwan. See if he knows anything about it or has ever seen anything like it. This is supposed to be his home turf, after all."

"As you wish, sir."

With a glance at the both of them that seemed to indicate they were finished with their business, Calhoun rose and headed back to the bridge. Soleta was about to follow when she heard her name spoken very quietly, just under someone's breath. She turned, mildly surprised, to see that Shelby was whispering her name, barely mouthing it. Shelby knew that Soleta's rather sharp hearing would detect it. She hung back since Shelby's desires were clear: She wanted to speak to her privately for a moment. As soon as Calhoun had departed, Soleta turned squarely to face Shelby with a questioning eyebrow raised.

"Soleta, may I ask your opinion about a personal matter?"

"Of course you can, Commander."

"I just . . ." Shelby's hands seemed to move in vague patterns. "I . . . wanted to talk to another woman for a moment."

"Do you wish me to find one for you?" Soleta inquired.

"No, I—" Shelby laughed softly. "I meant I wanted to talk to you. You're the highest ranking woman on the bridge aside from me. Maybe that's a silly criteri-115

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on, but nonetheless I feel a sort of . . . of connection with you in that respect."

"It is flattering that you think of me with such regard. Very well, Commander, how may I be of service?"

Shelby walked slowly around the table with a bit of a swagger to her step, as if endeavoring to bolster her confidence, as if she were discussing something that was mere silliness at best. "You seem to be a fairly sharp judge of character, and you've had a chance to observe the interactions of all concerned fairly closely since the launch of the
Excalibur,
and I suppose that one of your strengths is analysis, which would make you an ideal person to ask about this. I fully admit, I'm not entirely comfortable discussing it, but I'm a strong believer in talking things out, getting opinions and feedback. You understand, don't you?"

"Understand what? I confess, Commander, I am still uncertain as to precisely what it is that we are discussing."

"Love. Desire. Attraction. That kind of thing."

She looked at her askance for a moment. "Commander, are you propositioning me?"

"What?"

"I admit that science is synonymous with experimentation, but I—"

"No!" Shelby put up her hands as if shoving the notion away. "No, Soleta, that's not what I'm talking about at all."

"I see. Then clarification might be in order if we are to proceed."

"Look, I just want to check how something might be perceived, that's all. In your opinion, would you or any members of the crew . . ." She shifted uncomfort-116

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ably in place. "Does anyone think that I have romantic intentions toward Captain Calhoun?"

"I do not know," Soleta said, sounding no less puzzled than she had before. "Are you asking me to conduct a survey? If so, as soon as I have completed my current studies, I shall embark on a survey of—"

"No!
No, I don't want you conducting a survey, Soleta! I just want to know if I come across to you as being enamored of Captain Calhoun! That's all."

"Commander," Soleta said slowly, "to be perfectly blunt, it has never even entered my mind. Your performance as second in command of this vessel has been above reproach. Your interactions with the captain on the bridge have been nothing less than professional at all times. If you are indeed possessed of some sort of intense romantic feelings for him, it is not evident to me. Granted, I am not the ideal individual to form commentary in regard to human mating or sexual habits, but I would have to say in my assessment as a Starfleet officer that, at the very least, whatever emotional feelings you may possess for the captain have not in any way compromised or interfered with your ability to do your job." She paused and cocked an eyebrow. "Is that sufficient response for you, Commander?"

"Yes," smiled Shelby. She raised a hand for the purpose of placing it in a friendly manner on Soleta's shoulder, but then thought better of it and simply turned it into an apparently casual scratching of her own neck. "I appreciate the time, Soleta, and I also know I can count on you to keep this discussion between ourselves."

"Of that, Commander, I can most uncategorically assure you,"

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Shelby walked out of the conference room as Soleta gathered up the disk. The science officer watched her go, then shook her head and murmured, "Commander, you are so in love it borders on the ludicrous."

Soleta walked up to the turbolift and the door hissed open. She was mildly surprised to see Dr. Selar in there, and she nodded her head slightly to her fellow Vulcan in greeting as she entered the lift.

"Soleta," Selar said after a moment as the doors hissed closed, "I do not believe I have properly thanked you for your help with my difficulties during the time of
Pon farr.
Any discussion I had with off-worlders about the matter was most . . . difficult.

Your aid, to say nothing of your efforts in mindmeld-ing to provide diagnosis of the situation—"

"No thanks are required, Selar," replied Soleta.

"You were in distress and I provided assistance. To do any less than what I did would have been illogical."

"Nonetheless, your aid is appreciated. And you will be pleased to know that the matter has been successfully concluded. I believe I am indeed pregnant, and the mating urge has passed."

"My congratulations, Selar." She turned to face her formally and raised her fingers in the customary gesture of blessing. "May your child live long and prosper."

"Thank you."

"I am about to see Lieutenant Commander Burgoyne on another matter. Would it be good form for me to extend congratulations to hir as well?"

Selar seemed to study her a moment, and abruptly she said out loud, "Computer, halt lift." The turbolift promptly came to a halt and Soleta regarded her with
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open curiosity. "Soleta, may I ask your opinion about a personal matter?"

"I'm beginning to feel a bit like ship's counselor."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Of course you may, Doctor."

"I simply feel that, due to our mindmeld and your involvement earlier, I feel a sort of connection to you.

And I am ..." She appeared to be searching for the right word. "I am conflicted in my attitude toward Burgoyne."

"Conflicted in what way?"

"In every way," she admitted. "The bond of
Pon
farr—
" Selar paused, then continued. "The point is, I am accustomed to having distance from others. Not simply physical distance, but the emotional distance not only granted me by my nature, but demanded of me by my profession. I abandoned that distance when I gave myself over to Burgoyne. I am not certain now if it is possible for me to recapture it, nor am I certain that I am even desirous of doing so."

"The gate has already been opened, Doctor. I am not altogether certain it is possible to close it."

"Perhaps it is," replied Selar.

"Selar, you believe that you are bearing Burgoyne's child. That would seem to give hir some sort of permanent place in your life. Or did you not consider that?"

"To be honest, I had not. I had many considerations driving me, Soleta, but long-term planning was oddly enough not one of them. I do not know if I subscribe to your belief that Burgoyne's presence in my life is mandated. It is not at all impossible for me to raise this child on my own. And tell me, as a Vulcan, Soleta, can you envision Burgoyne as a lifemate for me? S/he
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is so different, so very much the antithesis of all that we are. Let us say that I were to return to Vulcan, on a temporary or even permanent basis. There would be no place for Burgoyne within our society. Nor would I easily fit in with Hermat society. We are too different, Soleta."

"Is that your real concern, Selar? How each of you

'fits in' to your respective worlds of origin?"

Selar considered it a moment and then slowly admitted, "No."

"I did not think so. In my opinion, Selar—since you asked—I believe that you feel rather vulnerable in the presence of Burgoyne. That it is that vulnerabil-ity you consider to be the most daunting aspect of your present situation, and that might be a problem whether you were with Burgoyne or any member of our own race. The problem that presents itself is that, while another Vulcan might be equally and comfortably withdrawn, Burgoyne would require continued displays of intimacy, both physical and emotional.

You are not at all certain whether you are capable of providing those. Am I correct?"

"I would have to say that your assessment is more or less accurate."

"More? Or less?"

"More," sighed Selar.

"Selar, if I may be so bold, do you love hir?"

"I do not know if that is a particularly relevant question."

"I disagree, Selar. I think it may well be the only relevant question."

Selar seemed to be staring intently at the door of the lift, as if she were capable of seeing straight
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through it and down to Engineering. "I do not know,"

she admitted.

"Then it seems to me," Soleta said slowly, "that once you have worked out the answer to that question, the rest of the answers should be forthcoming on their own."

Selar said nothing for what appeared to be a very long time, although Soleta knew internally that it was only eleven seconds. "Computer, resume lift function." Obediently the turbolift smoothly reengaged on its path as Selar said, "I believe you are correct, Soleta. I shall give the matter careful consideration and endeavor to come to a logical conclusion."