I had the distinct pleasure of collaborating on this piece with
Johnny R. Call, the creator of Star Trek: Liberator. It's
set before either the
"Ego Trip"
By Joseph Manno
and Johnny R. Call
Brigadier General Wellington Veers had always wanted to meet Luciano Mantovanni. This, however,
wasn't necessarily the way he'd planned to go about it.
"Just arrange to bump into him," Rear Admiral Alexander
Pierce had instructed. "Give him a hard time about something."
"About what?" Veers had replied, somewhat
indignantly. "I don't even know the man."
"Come on, Well; don't give me this, 'I'm just a marine
minding my own business' crap. The fact that he's rumored to be pretty much
invincible in hand-to-hand should ruffle even the most unflappable jarhead's
feathers.
"Come on..." he'd finished, grinning almost
mischievously. "Don't you want to just see the man for
yourself?"
So here he was, playing tag in the halls of Starbase 17 with a
navy captain when he should have been tending to his unit, all because his old
friend Alex Pierce could push his buttons better than a concert pianist rattled
keys.
His communicator sounded, and he tapped it immediately.
"Veers. Go."
"King, sir. He's headed for our position. Permission to
engage."
Oh, man...
"Gunny, no! Do not ... repeat ... do not ...
attempt contact!"
A flood of static told Wellington Veers that Gunnery Sergeant
Maxwell King, a twenty-five year veteran—and legendary brawler—had decided to
bag himself another “Fleetie.”
"Son of a...!" Veers cursed, and sprinted down the hall.
It took him only fifteen seconds to cover the distance...
...and it was still over before he got there.
Veers came hurtling around the corner, and spotted Max—who in
twenty years of service together fighting Cardassians, Talarians
and Tzenkethi, he'd never even seen off his feet—lying face down, along with
two other nameless NCOs, in a groaning pile at the "Fleetie's"
feet.
So this is Luciano Mantovanni, he
thought.
The general stopped about ten feet from the carnage; at his approach,
the captain moved into what would have appeared to a layman as a casual
defensive stance. Veers was an expert in unarmed combat, though; at the moment,
there was nothing casual about the man … or his posture.
"Are these yours?" he asked, with more than an
edge of disdain.
Despite himself, the general nearly lost his temper. These were his
marines, after all; and he was justifiably proud of them, their accomplishments
and their skills. For this man to thrash them almost casually, and then
practically sneer at a flag officer...
"Sir," Veers snapped.
Mantovanni raised a curious eyebrow.
"'Are these yours, sir?’"
he repeated. When no reply was immediately forthcoming, he touched his collar,
and gritted, "You do know what these mean, right?"
Finally, he got a reaction. His counterpart smiled insolently, and
replied, "'Always trust your car to the man who wears a star'?"
A second later, ten Starfleet security guards surrounded the
scene, and their commander—a lieutenant obviously dreading this encounter—nevertheless
requested, firmly, "What exactly is going on here, sirs?"
Without missing a beat, Mantovanni answered, "I was assisting
the general and his elite personnel in an exercise..."
Veers took up the deception easily.
"Indeed. Thank you, Captain." He nodded to the younger
man. "Gentlemen," he bluffed, looking at the guards again, "your
response time was excellent. Dis-missed!"
They looked doubtful, but ... they left.
When Veers turned back, Mantovanni was already gone.
***
"I'm just glad that when you screw up a mission, it's
something like this...”
Pierce was not exactly happy with the either the
methodology or the results of his friend's little reconnaisance.
He'd be even more
unhappy if I told him there'd been a fight,
instead of just saying, “It didn't exactly go well,” Veers thought glumly.
"Well?" Pierce demanded. There's got to be more than
that."
The general remembered Maxwell King's report again, and nearly
cringed: The grizzled campaigner had finally gotten back to his feet, and straightened
himself into a reasonable approximation of 'parade rest'; 'attention' obviously
wasn't going to happen until after a visit to the infirmary.
"Report," Veers had demanded. The other two NCOs were
still down; and neither looked like they'd be either confirming or
denying King's version of events.
At least, not until they woke up.
***
"What do you mean, 'I took Maxwell King with me'?!"
Pierce demanded.
"Hey, he's a good recon man," Veers countered, a little
defensively. What he failed to add was, He also happened to be the first man
I saw when I left your office.
"He's been demoted six times for brawling, striking a
superior, drunk and disorderly ... the man can't pass
a Starfleet officer without weighing the merits of throwing a punch!"
Veers shrugged apologetically.
"So King hit him," Pierce continued, sitting back down
behind his desk and sighing explosively. "That's just great, Well. Way to
recon."
The general, ever the small unit tactician, suddenly saw a way
out.
"No, sir," he replied smartly. "Gunnery Sergeant
King did not strike Captain Mantovanni."
Not exactly, anyway...
***
"I've never had anything like that happen before," the
veteran had grumbled.
Maxwell King certainly hadn't been a broken man, but his view
of the universe had definitely been shaken.
"Go on," Veers had prodded.
So he had.
"This guy's unreal...! He's smoother than an Andorian, hits
like a Vulcan, and has technique I haven't seen in thirty years of mixing it
up. We never even touched him.
"We got our asses whipped, sir—quick," he'd
finished, chagrined.
The general had acknowledged his statement with a nod, and then
informed him, "We'll talk about your little static trick later. Get
these two," he'd ordered, pointing at the pile, "to the infirmary
... and don't go looking for Mantovanni again, got me?"
"Sir! Yes, sir!"
***
"Well, thank goodness for that, anyway," Pierce sighed
in relief. "Mantovanni's no idiot; as a matter of fact, he's well known
for tactical brilliance. The fact that you and I are friends won't escape him
... he'd have assumed I sent you after him to check him out. A fight, though,
would have convinced him I'd sicced your men on him,
as well. That wouldn't be conducive to a pleasant first encounter."
"No, it won't," Veers murmured, beneath even his
friend's Vulcan hearing. When Pierce glanced suspiciously at him, the general
repeated, more loudly, "No, sir, it wouldn't."
After a smart salute, he made for the door.
"Have a good trip, Admiral..."
***
"He's quite eager to meet you, sir."
Commander Sa'lanna offered that as a
conversational gambit, hoping for some kind of reaction from her captain.
He'd been silent since well before the ride had begun. While she,
along with the rest of Alexios' crew, was
accustomed to his famed brooding, he'd never been what she would consider
unapproachable. As a matter of fact, there'd been numerous occasions where his
arid sense of humor had been tremendously entertaining.
For the last few hours, though, Mantovanni had said precisely
nothing. Once or twice, his eyes had narrowed in what looked like irritation;
however, he'd never actually come out and spoken.
Sa'lanna was, slowly, despite her best efforts, growing quite nervous at the
prospect of seven hours alone with the two most formidable men she'd ever
known.
"Sir?" she nudged.
"Yes, Commander, I heard you," he finally replied, as
she brought the
"I, however, feel like we've already met."
***
Other than the most cursory of introductions, neither of them
spoke for the first three hours.
It didn't seem to be a sullen silence, Sa'lanna
noted. It was almost as if they were engaging in the old samurai custom of
absolute stillness, until one or the other broke from nervousness.
I can't take much more of this, she
thought.
"Admiral," she finally began, throwing out the first
reasonable attempt that came to mind, "you'd mentioned to me that you found
some of Captain Mantovanni's tactical innovations to be of value while you were
in command of the
He nodded slowly. "Yes, I did. Many facets of his career have
been ... colorful."
It was rare to see a raised eyebrow directed at a Vulcan:
Mantovanni had perfected the technique in his youth on his adopted home world,
and he employed it now.
"I've gone through your personnel file; it makes for
interesting reading," Pierce mentioned, in a tone that he probably
considered conversational.
Sa'lanna nearly cringed. This was already going badly; she could
see the look in her commander's eye, the glint of Sicilian steel that usually
meant he was preparing some barb that could vary in edge from impossibly keen
to unutterably blunt.
To her astonishment, though, he said nothing—at first.
Pierce raised an eyebrow, smiling coolly. "Well? Do I have to
carry the entire conversation, Captain?"
Mantovanni grinned in reply—and it was like they were crossing
swords.
Oh, no, Sa'lanna
thought. This is not happening...
"Commander, give me a Level Two diagnostic on the flight
control systems, please," Mantovanni abruptly instructed.
It was abundantly clear he was getting rid of her: such an
analysis could only be performed from the pilot's station in the cockpit. That
of course, was well out of earshot, even for her—especially considering that
her commanding officer had been raised on Vulcan, and knew precisely how
sensitive their hearing was.
"Aye, sir," she replied. "Excuse me, Admiral."
Pierce nodded distractedly; he was already turning back in
interest towards the interrupted dialogue.
"My apologies," Mantovanni
answered, even as she made her way forward. "I assumed you had something more to add, sir."
Stop right there, Sa'lanna pleaded silently. That was perfect, just...
"As to your..."
The words became unintelligible.
She hoped, for everyone's sake, that things in the passenger suite
stayed as civil as they'd so far been.
***
No such luck.
Mantovanni, after determining she was gone, went on to add, "As
to your carrying most of the conversation, sir ... it's been my experience that
admirals invariably have something more to say, ad infinitum, ad tedium, ad nauseum ... and I've never known one who couldn't carry
on both sides of a debate—whether their audience particularly wanted to
hear it or not."
Without question, the comment was borderline insubordinate; but
since it spoke of admirals in general rather than a specific individual, it
managed to flirt with the frontier without quite crossing over.
Pierce, however, wasn't about to be outdone.
"Well, you're everything your file says you are," he
parried. "And here I was, thinking that someone had to have
exaggerated."
Mantovanni leaned forward in his seat, and confided in a voice
just above a whisper, "Doesn't do me justice, does it?"
The admiral was fast approaching the limits of a notoriously short
fuse. He smiled broadly, and replied, "Indeed not.
“This definitely adds something to your legend … or perhaps that's
what you wanted?"
If there was one thing Mantovanni could appreciate, it was the
subtle psychological dig; and while Pierce's
statement hadn't been a hit, he was certainly starting to find the range.
Both had learned, in a just a few passes, to circle a little more
warily before committing.
Suddenly, the small craft lurched violently, forcing its occupants
to fight to keep their seats—as well as their composure.
As soon as the shaking had subsided, the two rushed forward into
the cockpit, where Sa'lanna's hands were literally a
blur over the controls.
"Report," Pierce commanded, his 'business face' now
securely in place.
"Two Talarian attack scouts
vectoring in astern," Mantovanni answered promptly, as he slipped into the
co-pilot's position.
The little ship was jolted by another attack, and he added,
"I think we can take that as a subtle indication they'd like us to
surrender."
"Shields at 57%," Sa'lanna
informed them calmly. "Initiating evasive maneuver Delta Two."
"Transferring tactical control to this station,"
Mantovanni added, more as a courtesy than anything else. His X-O would be too
busy running to do much shooting.
Even as her anticipation enabled the little ship to dodge a
particle beam strike that might have holed them, she commented, "It would
appear that the Talarians are still engaged in
sporadic raids rather more freely than Starfleet thought."
"They just can't resist the scenic spots," Mantovanni
muttered.
The Vulcan sent her charge knifing under their foes; Pierce
watched her only peripherally. His attention was mostly on his new acquaintance.
Mantovanni, for his part, resisted the temptation to divide the
runabout's fire between two vessels, and thus hurt neither. In the few seconds
he had a clear shot, he waited until the relative speeds of the various craft
had slowed to near zero.
Reconfiguring the tactical console on the fly, he fired the
phasers in a concentrated burst, nearly blowing out the emitters... and
followed that up with a pair of micro-torpedoes—preceded by, strangely enough,
a brief, high-intensity tractor beam that didn't do those systems any
good either.
The stars outside the runabout shifted and blurred as the craft
jumped into warp. Only one of the Talarian ships
followed; the vessel he'd targeted was quickly being left behind.
"That was ... interesting," Pierce commented. It was
clear he wanted an explanation of what he'd just seen.
"Just a little contrivance I wasn't sure would work even
once," Mantovanni told him. "I used the tractor beam to momentarily
prevent their shield generators from reinforcing the spot where the phaser
strike had hit. One of the torpedoes must have sneaked through and damaged
their warp drive."
"Good thing we didn't blow out both.”
He had meant it as a compliment on a gamble well taken.
Mantovanni perceived it as exactly the opposite.
"Perhaps you'd like
the second ship back, instead?"
Pierce almost reacted angrily, but then realized how the comment
could have been taken ... by someone who'd just been in an argument with you.
Instead, he said nothing.
Both officers noted that their current velocity was far above even
the emergency "safe rating" for such a vessel. The building
hum—nearly subsonic to Mantovanni, but no doubt quite audible to the two Vulcans—let them know that this would be a sprint and
nothing more, despite Sa'lanna's innovation.
"We won't be able to keep this up for long," Pierce
noted.
"This is why we never let her drive," Mantovanni
commented drolly.
Sa'lanna smiled briefly at her commander, but responded to her father's
observation, with, "Two point seven-nine minutes.
"The Beta Hallor system is our only
hope of evading the enemy."
"The second planet is ... habitable," Mantovanni added.
"I once led an away mission there. You two'll
just love it ... the humidity makes it quite a charming place for Vulcans. It's nice and chilly, too."
"Our communications system is completely destroyed."
This information, supplied by Pierce, didn't exactly bolster spirits.
"Well, that pretty much rules out the distress signals—well,
other than the whimpering," Mantovanni mentioned sardonically.
And I thought I was a smart ass,
Pierce marveled.
A moment later, he chided himself.
Then again, you're no prize today either, are you, Admiral?
His sense of self-recrimination continued to grow as he watched
the troubled face of his daughter. Despite impressive composure, it was
apparent that she was quite a bit off her stride. The fact was she'd already
been nervous when this little jaunt started—and neither Mantovanni nor he had
particularly noticed.
We've been too busy exchanging broadsides.
"Starbase 17 will no doubt divert the Alexios
Komnenos and other vessels to mount a search ...
eventually," she speculated.
Pierce recognized his daughter's tone. Hmmmm
... wonder what she's come up with...
"Unfortunately, the key word in that statement is
‘eventually,’" he challenged.
"One minute to automatic warp core shut down" Sa’lanna turned to Mantovanni.
"I'll drop to sublight five seconds
before the computer would have done so, detach the cockpit module, and send the
rest back into warp with the safeties off.
"We'll coast into the atmosphere, and, with any luck, the Talarians will slow down to investigate—but continue after
the runabout's drive section."
Now this was the Sa'lanna Pierce
knew—innovative under pressure.
He spotted the flaw in the plan immediately, though, and flashed a
look at the other man.
Good. He does, too. How will he handle it?
What the admiral decided to say was, "There’s a good chance
their scanners will pick up the cockpit."
"True enough. Let's make it more difficult for them."
Gone was the sarcastic edge which had pervaded most of Mantovanni's statements
until now.
"What do you mean to do, sir?" Sa'lanna
asked.
"As we drop out of warp, I'll mine our trail with the
runabout's micro torpedoes, set for proximity blast. When the Talarians slow to impulse, they'll emerge in the mines'
midst; and, hopefully, the detonations will saturate the immediate area with
enough radiation to confuse their short range sensors."
Nodding her approval at the tactic, Sa'lanna
turned back to her console.
It was only then that Pierce saw Mantovanni's unguarded
expression; it was obviously meant for him, and implied something to the effect
of, Yeah, I know it probably won't work, but it's all we've got.
They'd obviously both decided, in the same moment, to
protect her as best they could.
Sa'lanna brought the runabout out of warp with a jolt, pushing the
inertial dampeners to their limit.
"Fifty-two seconds to cockpit separation," she informed
them.
Mantovanni watched, impressed, as his X-O programmed an escape
route for the command module with her left hand; while simultaneously laying in
a complex set of course changes for the star drive section with her right. It
was an astonishing display of compartmentalized thinking and ambidexterity.
Both were trademarks of the Vulcan people, and Sa'lanna
had mastered the former ability to a degree he'd seen exceeded only by only one
person—the half-Vulcan Sera MacLeod.
He flashed on his master, Sevek,
intoning, 'Do not concern yourself, Cicero, at your failure to master this one
discipline. There is, after all, something to be said for single-mindedness,'
and smiled at the memory.
"Dispersing 'mines' in two ... one ... mark."
The small but deadly weapons scattered behind them.
Suddenly, the small vessel trembled again, as plasma began to
bleed away from the warp nacelles.
Sa’lanna gasped, "What the—?"
"Sorry," Pierce apologized from behind her. "I
thought it might help to mask the micro torpedoes."
"Well, with all due respect, Admiral, it would probably be
best if you notified the pilot next
time you decide to take an action affecting flight trajectory—unless, of
course, you would like our planet-fall to be more literal than
figurative."
Good for you, Sa'lanna, Mantovanni thought, chuckling inwardly.
"I'll remember that for next time," Pierce replied,
somewhat chagrined. To his credit, though, he seemed pleased at her boldness.
The captain listened to the exchange between father and daughter,
noting that the usual guardedness in her voice when speaking of her
father was now absent when she spoke to him.
Either the emergency has her distracted, or she's decided
'officer' rather than 'daughter' is the role of the day, he thought. Noting the gray in the older man's hair, Mantovanni
found himself wondering how just much of it had gotten there from worrying
about her.
"Fifteen seconds," Sa'lanna
said, a moment later adding, "I shall send the signal for warp jump as
soon as we're clear."
"The Talarians will join us nine
seconds after we disengage, but it would take another twenty after that for
their scanners to acquire us ... under ideal conditions," Pierce noted.
"Detaching ... mark."
She was, for all practical purposes, flying two ships.
Mantovanni knew that this was now a one-woman show. The only thing
left for them to do now was wait.
With a flash, the runabout's star drive section leaped back into
warp, leaving the command module and its three passengers behind. With their
only means of faster-than-light travel gone, the two men turned their attention
to the rapidly approaching planet before them.
"Our approach vector is too steep," Pierce observed.
Unexpected plasma venting will do that, Mantovanni thought. However, he held his tongue with difficulty; Sa'lanna didn't need the distraction of a dispute behind
her.
"A touch of the forward thrusters," the older man
advised, leaning on the chair and indicating the controls.
The Vulcan woman's face twisted as she struggled to maintain
control of the tiny craft.
She's afraid—not for herself, but of disappointing him. What a time for a lecture.
"Steady, Commander," Mantovanni said. "You're
flying this. As a matter of fact, I was going to give you a third
problem, so you could really impress us."
Pierce looked a little startled.
"That will not be necessary," she answered. "I feel
sufficiently challenged."
She brought the ship into the upper atmosphere of Beta Hallor II.
The darkness of space was suddenly filled by several bright
flashes of light originating behind them.
Seconds later, their craft was hit by an invisible force that sent
them spinning out of control.
"You were saying something about a third problem,
Captain," Sa'lanna chided him.
The three watched the view change between the blue-green sky and
the dark grey of the approaching planetary surface as the ship tumbled end over
end.
Needless to say, the inertial dampeners were not quite
fully compensating.
"Lucky thing..." muttered
Mantovanni.
"I would be interested in hearing how you could vaguely
consider our situation 'lucky,'" Sa’lanna
commented. Ironically enough, her voice was once again perfectly even.
He answered simply, "You're lucky I'm not
flying."
"I concede the point. After all, this would be considered a
normal approach for you.”
Pierce looked surprised at his daughter's seeming insubordination;
he was probably shocked that Mantovanni was actually laughing as the runabout
slammed into the surface, and abruptly ended the exchange.
***
"Admiral.”
Pierce's eyes fluttered open. Before even contemplating an attempt to
rise, he felt a subtle pressure on his chest. He forced himself to relax … and
then tried to remember where he was.
"Give yourself a minute. You had a mild concussion, but I've
already treated it. Your equilibrium should return in a minute—assuming I used
the right drugs, that is."
Ahhhh, that attitude. Now he remembered where he was.
"Sa'lanna?" was all he could
get out, at first.
Again, the sarcasm dropped away.
"Not good," Mantovanni admitted, turning away from Pierce's daughter and helping the admiral to his feet.
As one, they returned their attentions to her.
"Multiple rib fractures ... severe concussion ... some
internal bleeding ... it's bad enough that she was in a healing trance even
before I'd staggered over to the two of you."
Pierce stepped back, taking note of the
shambles around them Starfleet had once called a runabout cockpit. Then he
turned his gaze to Mantovanni, who seemed to be favoring his left side.
"What about you?" he inquired.
"Separated shoulder ... I was the luckiest of us. Can you
reinsert it?"
"Well, Basic First Aid
was some time ago, but..." He slipped behind Mantovanni, and in a swift,
smooth movement, set the bone back into its socket.
His patient, of course, didn't make a sound. Pierce accelerated
the healing process with a cellular regenerator, and he began to test its range
of motion.
"Hold still," he ordered sharply.
Mantovanni immediately froze. Behind him, the older man smiled. Good
to know you can follow instructions, he thought wryly.
"Thanks. Good job." The compliment, amazingly enough,
seemed sincere.
Pierce couldn't resist. "I'm surprised you didn't try to do
it yourself," he chuckled.
Mantovanni grinned. "Well ... I figured you'd enjoy jamming
it back into place. Who am I to deprive an admiral of his small
pleasures?"
Hmmmmm... Pierce thought. That was pretty
good, for off the top of his head.
Well, best to get on with it...
"Have you had a chance to survey our systems and survival
supplies?"
"Everything salvageable is in a pile just outside; I'll
double check in case I missed something in the first survey. I could use a
second opinion on Sa'lanna, though, Admiral. God
knows, I'm not a doctor ... you may see something I didn't."
Pierce nodded in assent, and turned back to his injured child.
She looks so small, he thought.
He made a few minute adjustments on the medical tricorder, and commenced a
thorough scan. After checking the results, he rummaged through the well-stocked
little emergency medical bag, found the drug he'd sought, and dosed her with a
rather copious amount of it.
"I'd like to put some distance between us and the runabout
before the Talarians come looking."
Pierce considered that while donned his jacket. The outside air's
chill was already filling what was left of the little ship; he suppressed a
shiver even as Mantovanni passed him his share of supplies.
Both the tricorder he received, and the thought of the
technologically less sophisticated Talarians looking
for them, sparked an idea. It took him a few minutes with the device, but
eventually, he nodded in satisfaction and tossed it back.
"That one's been reconfigured. It should block out the Talarian scanners fairly well."
The captain seemed impressed.
"Wow," he observed wryly. "Aren't you the devious
little–?"
"Don't say it.”.
"Yes, sir," he acknowledged, actually managing for a
second to look apologetic.
Pierce continued working; it took him only a moment to adjust the
second device.
When Mantovanni traded that one for the third, he murmured, "Come
on ... you want to know what I was going to say ... you know you do."
"Let me guess... how about 'megalomaniac'?"
"Actually, I was going to say 'commodore'. I never liked that
whole 'Rear Admiral, Lower Half' thing... it sounds like you're saying, 'Rear
Admiral, Horse's Ass'. But if you'd prefer that..." he finished.
"'Admiral'... or 'sir'... will do," Pierce enunciated
each word with deliberate care. Then, before his temper could really get out of
hand, he indicated the three instruments again.
"These should give us a few days.
"I'll carry Sa'lanna..." he
continued. "Vulcans
tend to have greater endurance, and you have a just healed separated shoulder,
to boot."
Surprisingly, he got no protest. "Agreed. Just don't exhaust
yourself, sir."
Pierce snorted. "Those rare moments of actual consideration
really stand out with you, Captain."
Mantovanni arched a brow in surprise: the 'old man' could really
sling the unexpected darts, too.
"You just bring out the best in me, Admiral," he
replied.
Gingerly, with the younger man standing by to assist, Pierce was
able to maneuver Sa'lanna into his arms without
unnecessarily jarring her. He agonized at every movement, straining his muscles
so as to keep her safe; and desperately tried to avoid thinking about the
bleeding that could so easily start again.
Not that there's much choice, he
thought bitterly.
***
Despite his uniquely cavalier way of delivering the news, Luciano
Mantovanni hadn't been lying.
Beta Hallor II was both humid and
cold—uncomfortably for a human, and almost intolerably so for a Vulcan. After
half an hour or so of steady progress Pierce was growing winded.
Sa'lanna had started to shiver seconds after they'd left the runabout. Her
father tried to shelter her from the wind's bite as much as he could, but it
was already apparent they weren't going to last long without shelter.
He stumbled, once—and Mantovanni was at his side in an instant,
taking Sa'lanna from his arms.
"You need a few minutes,
sir."
Pierce drew in a few deep breaths, and stretched himself as best
he could. The cold resisted his every effort to remain limber—the few native
plants clinging to the rocky terrain were covered in frost. He acknowledged it
as a minor miracle he hadn't slipped before this.
"I'll take her back in a few minutes," he told the
younger man curtly.
Again, he was startled to get no
challenge.
"Understood. She's better off with you, anyway," Mantovanni answered.
"Vulcans have a higher body temperature—she gets
more warmth being close to you.
"Besides, I'd imagine a father's touch is
comforting."
Was there a trace of something else ... maybe accusation ... in that observation? Pierce thought. His
eyes narrowed.
"What's that supposed to imply?" he asked
suspiciously.
Evidently, he'd surprised Mantovanni—who stopped, carefully turned
to face him.
"It doesn’t ‘imply’ a damned thing. It means, 'I'd imagine ... a father's touch ... is comforting.'
He then continued up the path.
Pierce was taken aback—for some reason, he'd thought his companion
was making a comment on his absenteeism as a father, when it was now clear
nothing of the sort had been intended.
Then he remembered.
Of course ... Mantovanni's an orphan ... he'd have to be, to have
been raised on Vulcan by Sevek.
He shook his head in irritation at his unintended
callousness.
Sorry, Captain, he thought.
***
They reached the foothills about three miles from the crash site
just after dusk. Six hours had elapsed, and still they'd had no sign of the Talarians.
Despite his Vulcan endurance, Pierce was tired: His daughter was
strongly built for a woman, and her extra musculature was quite a strain in the
cold. He could also feel his lungs starting to protest against processing such
mist-laden air.
Mantovanni, who'd gone off 'scouting' over an hour ago, was
suddenly in front of him. His uniform was torn, and he had a series of three
deep scratches across his left cheek.
"What the hell happened to you?" Pierce
demanded.
"I found a cave ... it's just around the bend here.”
The admiral, accordingly, altered his
direction.
"I guess the current inhabitant took exception to
sharing," he observed, half-amused: Mantovanni looked like nothing more
than an eight-year-old boy who'd had a great day
playing.
"He did ... however, we're now the current inhabitants. The
former owner's no doubt searching for some quieter little spot to bed down in
for tonight. Hopefully he'll return after we've left. I wouldn't want to have
evicted him permanently." He grinned, wriggled his eyebrows, and then took
Sa'lanna.
The cave was rather more spacious and cheery than the smallish
entrance would have indicated...even the scent of musk from the former tenant
seemed somehow comforting. There was enough room for the two men to stretch out
and relax, as well as lay Sa'lanna on a bed of
emergency blankets.
The trip hadn't done her much good, either. Her lungs also
had entirely too much fluid in them; labored breathing indicated that it was
interfering with her healing trance, too.
"What about a decongestant for you both?" Mantovanni
asked. "That might help."
"You were right before ... you're not a doctor," Pierce responded,
a little more harshly than he'd intended. A second later, he added, more
gently, "The first rule is, 'Do no harm,' and since we really don't know
what other effects it would have, it's better to simply keep her warm, and hope
the healing trance does what it's supposed to
do."
"Yeah. I should have realized that," his subordinate agreed.
"That was rather stupid."
Pierce shook his head. "Not at all,
Captain. You can't be expected to make the right decision, to have the
brilliant idea, every time. Stop riding yourself so. You can consider that
an order."
Mantovanni nodded. "Understood, sir..." He moved to the
mouth of the cave, then appended, "... though I bet you pride yourself
on always having the correct answer." He winked, and ducked
out.
Pierce smothered a smile. No wonder Sa'lanna
says he's always a step ahead of her.
***
Dinner was some tubers and a kill the cave's inhabitant had been
forced to abandon—some reptilian thing that, surprisingly, was quite flavorful.
The only other alternative would have been the hypo-administered nutrients they
were forced to give Sa'lanna: most of the rations had
been lost in the drive section; and, as luck would have it, the rest had been
in a section of the cockpit torn away by the crash.
"They should be wondering about us even now," the
admiral speculated. "Let's see if that crew of yours deserves its
reputation."
Mantovanni rolled his eyes. "You're just lucky Sa'lanna's with you; otherwise, it'd be a large assumption
that anybody'd want you
back."
Pierce nearly choked on his lizard (for lack of a better
word).
"You're a vicious son-of-a-bitch, aren't
you?"
"Actually, that was a joke. Other than the fact that
you're a colossal pain in the ass—which, frankly, is endemic in the
Admiralty—you're a lot of fun to be fighting for my life with...
sir."
I'm spending too much time with this man, Pierce thought. I actually feel complimented by that.
He nodded slowly: a plan for terrible vengeance was beginning to
form in his mind. "You know, I'm going to make certain you get someone just
like you as a subordinate in the very near
future..."
For a time, they sat in silence.
Eventually, Pierce took a nibble of the gathered ‘greens’ … and
grimaced.
"Thanks for the effort to find me something at least vaguely
vegetarian, but—and I never thought I’d be saying this—I think the lizard
tastes better.”
Mantovanni answered with, "Oh, stop fussing and eat your
veggies."
They both chuckled.
As the meal wore on, though, the admiral grew increasingly
restive. He began to examine the walls of the cave. All the while, his frown
grew deeper.
"I ... feel like I've been here
before."
"Really? You don't strike me as someone who's usually overcome by deja vu, Admiral..."
Mantovanni's voice trailed off as he took a better look at Pierce:
The man's expression had become nothing short of
haunted.
Let's dispense with the sarcasm, for the nonce, the captain told himself.
The admiral turned and examined him, almost suspiciously.
"You mean to tell me this place doesn't seem familiar to you?" When
the other shook his head minutely, No, it seemed to agitate him even
more.
"The caves of the Shi'lar Mountains, on Vulcan? You did grow up there, after all ... how could you have learned
some of the disciplines without having walked the Gaarai
Caverns? All devotees go there at one point or
another."
"My education was ... unique, Admiral," Mantovanni
admitted. "Sevek decided to forgo many of the
usual acolyte training patterns with me. Since Vulcan mysticism has a strong
theological element, and he felt a duty to raise me in the faith of my parents,
he decided to combine the psionic exercises of his
own people with the esoteric wisdom of
mine."
"So he broke the rules for you," Pierce remarked; he
couldn't keep the hint of bitterness out of his voice. "You didn't have to
listen to all that ... yammering about logic and Surak...
"Too bad," the admiral finally sighed. "Those
little jaunts the Kolinahr
initiates used to make into the Shi'lar mountains to
get in touch with their katras
... well, that's just not to be missed,
Captain."
The icy sarcasm that accompanied Pierce's
recollection of his homeworld and its legacy would
have been unmistakable, even to someone not at all familiar with the admiral or
his past.
Mantovanni was neither. Sevek hadn't
taught him in precisely the manner he had other students, but he'd presented
the same copious amount of knowledge—much that, ironically enough, most Vulcans themselves didn't possess. His master had a
prophet's vision, and, thus, he had heard the
tale.
Sevek had spoken to his human charge about a
unnamed young initiate who had, during his sojourn in the caves, stumbled upon
an ancient tome in a room hollowed out millennia before. The book contained
knowledge of disciplines which had been repudiated by the philosophical
descendents of Surak, and symbolically abandoned
there.
Rather than simply contemplating the wisdom of the ancients who
had shunned this dark part of their nature, the defiant acolyte had ignored the
warnings of Surak himself, which were written in the
ancient teacher's own blood on the leathery
cover.
Instead, he'd opened and read.
When what he'd done was discovered, he was confronted by a Triad
of Judgment, consisting of a master and two initiates. Their decision—to strip
him of his knowledge by eradicating his memory—did not sit well with him. He'd
fought, desperate to protect his mental integrity …
…and lost control of power he never should have
had.
The three who had challenged him died for their
effort—screaming.
Why he had been exiled, and not killed, for what had occurred had
never been made plain to him: Those who made the decision believed it
unnecessary to justify themselves to one who had spilled the blood of his
judges. Amongst the political and spiritual leadership of arguably the second
most powerful member of the Federation, this then-youth was persona non grata, and would remain so for as long as he
lived.
Sevek had told him something else, too... but Mantovanni was certain
even the iron will of Alexander Pierce was not prepared to hear
it.
So it was you.
A low rumble shook the cave. Pierce, alarmed, reached for his
tricorder to take a reading, but was stopped by a raised
hand.
"Don't bother, sir ... that'll be the Talarians..."
"You’re sure?”
"Pretty much..." Mantovanni affirmed. "You see, I
rigged the runabout cockpit to explode if it detected Talarian
life signs within three meters."
Pierce was, for a moment, shocked at the guerilla
tactic.
"You may want to consider letting me in on your intentions,
next time," he nevertheless declared, a bit irritated. "What if you'd
been killed, and Sa'lanna and I forced back there in
the company of the Talarians?"
"Then you'd have been better off dying in an explosion than
watching them rape your unconscious daughter while they tortured you for
information," Mantovanni answered coldly. "That is fairly standard Talarian policy for captured female prisoners; you know as
well as I do that women have little status in their society—and those who dare
presume to the stature of men even less.
"Any other objections?" he finished, that infamous
sarcasm back—in spades.
Pierce made as if to reply... and instead coughed explosively; it
bent him over with its intensity.
Mantovanni was at his side immediately, helping him sit
down.
The admiral was able to wave him off a moment
later.
"I'm all right," he assured the younger
man.
"Yeah, you sound great ... I bet you're deep into making those plans for spending your next leave here."
Pierce grinned. "Only if you can be with me
... for ambience."
"Heh..." the younger man
chuckled, then turned suddenly and began to dig through the medical
pack.
Eventually he tossed something to Pierce: it was one of the two
emergency respirators they'd salvaged. "Can you reconfigure these to
function as dehumidifiers?"
Pierce gave it a moment's thought.
"Well, I think you have an exaggerated idea of my technical
skills..." he began.
"False modesty doesn't suit you, Admiral," Mantovanni
declared flatly. "With all due respect, sir, I suggest you get started ...
I don't want to listen to you wheezing all night.
"I'll be back ... oh, and since I'm supposed to let you in on
everything I'm doing ... I'm going to go out and to kill some more Talarians—with your permission, of course?"
***
After about an hour, and a moderate amount of cursing in Vulcan,
Federation Standard, and a bit of Orion he'd found quite useful in his time,
Pierce managed to get the respirators to do what he wanted them to do.
He donned one, and placed the other carefully over his daughter's
face.
The difference was noticeable almost immediately: his lungs
started to expel the fluid they'd taken in. While he wasn't fond of having a
hacking cough, and it couldn't be doing much for her either, it was
better that than having them both slowly drown in what amounted to four lungs-full
of water.
When Mantovanni returned, nearly three hours later, both Pierce
and Sa'lanna were breathing
easier.
"Did you find anything?"
The younger man sat down, heavily. He was again favoring his left
arm—this time, though, it was streaming blood from what looked to be a shard of
rock imbedded in his shoulder.
Pierce grabbed the tricorder, horrified at the amount his
companion must have already lost.
"Yes: Talarians," he finally
answered. "Originally ten; that's the full complement of an attack
scout."
"They've obviously decided to kill us no matter the cost; their
ship must be in orbit on full automation," Pierce
guessed.
"I imagine they're infuriated we had the unmitigated temerity
to actually resist when
attacked.
"From what I could piece together with these,"
Mantovanni explained, pointing to the infrared binoculars he was wearing,
"the explosion at the crash site killed five of them, and injured another
one pretty badly. The other four have been trying to find us. If not for your
doctoring of the tricorders, we'd probably already be
dead. As it is, they'd have found us by now if not for my little 'excursions.'
"I jumped two more." He didn't have to say he'd killed
them; Pierce could see the raptor's gleam in his eye. "Unfortunately, the
third one—the one I didn’t see—got a shot off at me…" He flicked his gaze
ruefully at the injured shoulder, "…and this was the result."
"One picked up Sa'lanna's tricorder
about an hour ago—I dropped it off the trail into a pile of rocks. He wasn't
stupid, I'll give him that ... he scanned to see if the thing had any explosive
devices before he retrieved it.
"He was probably pretty surprised when it electrocuted him—well,
briefly."
Pierce winced at the thought.
"Hold still," he told the captain. "I'm going to
remove this piece of rock."
He tugged, hard; it became apparent that it had penetrated the bone;
even the stoic Mantovanni's eyes widened as Pierce pulled the offending object
free.
The Sicilian sighed in relief; then looked back and whispered,
"You're just having a field day with me, aren't
you?"
"Sorry," the admiral mumbled, and meant it; he could
tell that that had to have been agonizing. Now for the really fun
news, he thought.
"You have nerve damage; it's pretty extensive. Your arm's
going to be useless until we're picked up."
Sicilian dialect, was, unfortunately, not
one of the languages programmed into a standard communicator's universal
translator. Thus, he wasn't able to catch the stream of curses that
followed.
Mantovanni, guessing at his curiosity, glanced up and translated,
"That means 'Darn', sir."
"Mmm hmm," Pierce
acknowledged, amused. His expression then grew grave. "I'm assuming you've
been using Vulcan biorhythmic techniques, and other more ... esoteric
disciplines taught you by Sevek to keep yourself
going, despite loss of blood and systemic shock."
"You're a ... pretty sharp guy, Admiral," his
subordinate acknowledged.
"So..." Pierce evaluated. "Eight of ten definitely
dead; one alive and uninjured; one alive and probably in no condition to fight.
So we'll assume two active, angry foes."
"Good assumption," Mantovanni slurred. Even his
indomitable will was starting to fail in the face of simple exhaustion and loss
of blood.
"You rest, Captain," he commanded; to enforce his
decision, he jammed a hypo-spray full of the first sedative he could think of
that wouldn't harm him in this state—handrolin—into
his erstwhile protector's neck.
"That's it ... drug all your
enemies..."
He slumped over, and Pierce caught him with surprising
gentleness.
His thoughts were almost fond. You always manage the last word,
young man.
He then went over to his daughter, whose healing trance seemed to
be coming to what, for Vulcans, was invariably a
violent climax.
I can't help you, little frog, he
thought. He bent to kiss her brow.
I can, however, make certain that when and if you wake, you and
your astonishing commanding officer have no enemies left to trouble you.
He then went to do just that.
***
This is not exactly what I'd expected, Pierce thought.
As he'd left the cave, his Vulcan ears had picked up a
high-pitched whine. It would continue for anywhere between ten and fifteen
seconds, stop for a moment or two, and then begin
again.
Carefully, he'd made his way back towards the crash site, finding
the bodies of three dead Talarians along the
way.
The noise was getting louder.
Finally, as he neared his destination, he
saw.
There were his foes … or, rather, foe: a Talarian
youth, at most eight years old ... he was sitting on the ground, cradling the
head of a now-deceased companion, and keening his sorrow in the traditional
manner of his kin.
The ... b'nai, I
think it's called.
There was debris—some recognizable, some not—everywhere. The
weapons he could see—particle accelerator pistols—told him that there'd been no
intention of capturing them.
The explosion had, indeed, killed quite a few of them. It looked
like there'd been nine adults, all told, and a single child with
them.
Probably on his first cruise.
My God, he
thought.
He suddenly realized what must have happened: Mantovanni had
ambushed the Talarians, and done his duty in a
ruthlessly efficient manner—until confronted by a frightened boy wielding a
particle beam pistol.
He'd had a choice between killing him, and holding his
fire.
I bet you tried to adjust your phaser, didn't you, Captain? You
probably ducked and rolled, desperately trying to set it on stun, with a
crazed, terrified child firing wildly at you the whole
time.
Only he was a little luckier then we all would've
hoped.
Then you realized you were injured pretty badly, and chose to
disengage.
With a combination of compassion and remorse, Pierce adjusted his
phaser … and did what he had to do.
***
Pierce carried the unconscious boy back to the cave; now that he
could actually breathe, it was a much easier
trip.
It had only been an hour, but, amazingly, Mantovanni was actually
struggling to his feet when he entered.
"You'll have to teach me that," the admiral mentioned.
"You should have been down for at least half a day."
"No, Doctor, you just went for the wrong stuff,"
was the groggy response. "Handrolin,"
he continued, picking up the empty hypo, "is one of the few drugs that's a
lot more effective against Vulcans than it is
humans."
Pierce shrugged. "I was in a hurry." Changing the
subject, he inquired, almost casually, "I'm curious: Why didn't you just
stun the boy? Why didn't you tell me the only one left was a
child?"
Mantovanni sighed, a little irritated; whether at circumstance,
him, or both, Pierce didn't know.
"My phaser was hit by one of those shards I took. The damned
thing still worked, but it was jammed on level seven... that's not really conducive
to stunning someone. As far as telling you about the boy, Admiral Super Genius,
you're the one who cost me another pint of blood and then drugged me before I
was done with my report."
I know that's not all of it, Captain, but ... I suppose it'll do.
The older man nodded. "Good point. Well, we may have the
means to get out of here even before being
rescued."
As if on cue, their comm badges
sounded.
Mantovanni, smiling sardonically, murmured, "Or
not."
"Alexios to
The two men exchanged looks that said, Great.
We should have just holed up here.
***
Sa'lanna opened her eyes.
Her first sensation was astonishment. Her father and her captain
were standing together.
And no one seemed to be bleeding.
"We are aboard the Alexios,"
she surmised. "In Sickbay."
"You're fine," Pierce assured her. "Your healing
trance was nearly complete. Doctor Matsuoka was able to ease you out of it, and
into a more normal sleep."
"What happened after the crash?" she
asked.
"Your captain saved us both," he
declared.
Mantovanni protested immediately. "Actually, it was the
admiral who—"
Sa'lanna interrupted with, "I'm sure you both had something to
do with it." She smiled. "Try not to kill each ... before ...
wake..." Unable to resist, she drifted off
again.
Her father seemed momentarily mesmerized by
her.
"She's a good woman, and a fine officer—despite my best
efforts," Pierce muttered, in a glaring episode of
self-flagellation.
"Oh, please. Now who's riding himself?" the younger man
asked, pointedly.
Pierce nodded, conceding the observation; and looked lovingly back
at his child, who was at last safe.
"She's beautiful," Mantovanni observed. When the admiral
glanced up sharply, he added, "Thank God she doesn't look like
you."
This time, they both found it in themselves to laugh.
***
Wellington Veers had found himself keenly anticipating Alexander Pierce's return.
After being informed his friend was back, the general had set out
on a stroll across the starbase that was calculated down to the half-second.
As always, his timing was impeccable.
The door, to his surprise, though, was open—and the admiral's
attaché was nowhere to be found.
"Come in, Well," came a voice
from the inner office.
Veers, after a sharp salute—and a waved 'at ease' from
Pierce—dropped into one of the admiral's plush guest chairs, and asked,
"So... how was your trip?"
His commanding officer grinned wickedly, and replied, "So...
there was no fight, eh?"
The general's grin faded away.
"Oh, crap..."