It was funny, he thought, how different the pace of life onboard was compared to the Academy. At the Academy, the day was broken up more—different classes, different faces, and different activities—so there was always variety. When he was on duty he was on the bridge most of the time, with the same crew and the same responsibilities, and at the end of the day he was almost always beat. He guessed he’d get used to it, and once he had a chance to start an exercise regime he’d have more energy. So far, though, that hadn’t happened, and it wouldn’t tonight.
As he made his way down the corridor to his quarters, nodding to crew members whose names he was trying to keep straight in his head, he was stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder. “Will,” a voice said, “I just wanted to thank you.”
Will turned to see Marden Zaffos looking intently at him. The security guard, a couple of years older than Will, had a thick mass of dark curly hair, and around his eyes there were dark smudged rings that reminded Will of a raccoon.
“No problem,” Will replied. “I don’t know if you heard, but Luwadis was able to quell the riot before too many were hurt. The mob is probably still mad at him for calling us in, but my impression is they’re even madder at us.”
Marden nodded, his hands folded across his chest. “Can’t really blame them,” he said. “But I know I should never have gone out onto that balcony. That was a stupid mistake. I just wanted to see ... to get a glimpse of Candelar.”
“We all make mistakes,” Will said, biting back another yawn.
“Some are worse than others.” Marden eyed the ceiling for a moment, and cleared his throat. “Can I talk to you, Will? Someplace more private?”
Will hoped this wouldn’t take long. He could almost hear his bed calling to him. “Sure,” he agreed, not wanting to turn away a fellow crew member, and potential friend, who clearly had something important on his mind. “I’m just around the corner, if that’s okay.”
“That would be great,” Marden said. “If you have something else you need to do, we could talk another time ...”
“No, now’s fine,” Will said. “I don’t have any plans except for sleeping.” He led the way to his quarters and opened the door. Marden followed him in. Once inside, Will lowered the bed and sat on it, his back up against the bulkhead. He offered Marden the desk chair.
“I should never have gone on that mission,” Marden said. “My mother’s father was from Handihar.”
“In the Candelar system,” Will observed.
“That’s right. Her mother, my grandmother, was human, and my father’s family is all human. So I just have that little bit of Handiharian in me. But my grandfather always told me these great stories about his homeworld, when I was a boy. I never thought I’d see the place. Candelar IV isn’t exactly the same thing, but I figured it was the closest I’d ever get, and I just couldn’t resist taking a look. I didn’t think it would be a problem, but I guess I wasn’t really thinking it through. I put us all in danger, and I’m sorry.”
“We were never really in danger,” Will pointed out. “We always had the option of beaming out before there was trouble.”
“That’s true,” Marden agreed. “But still—it was a stupid thing to do.”
“I won’t argue with that.”
“But at the same time,” Marden went on, “I couldn’t help sympathizing with them.”
“With the mob?” Will asked, slightly surprised. “They wanted to lynch Plure.”
Marden nodded. “And Handihar is one of the worlds he plundered,” he reminded Will. “A hundred thousand dead, there, more or less. Basically so he could extort a payment from them to make him go away. And the payment has almost utterly destroyed their economy. Handihar is a backward place, Will. Tribal, low-tech. Not wealthy. And not able to stand up to a heavily armed madman like Endyk Plure on their own.”
“Well, he’s in Starfleet hands now. A Federation trial will be fair, and he’ll be appropriately dealt with when it’s over.”
“Luwadis was right about that,” Marden argued. “There’s no fair way to deal with such a person. The best he should be able to hope for is a slow, agonizing death.”
“I understand how you feel, Marden,” Will assured him.
“I don’t think you do, Will. Those were my people. Distantly related, but still. Endyk Plure has to die for what he did, and I’m afraid that Federation justice won’t do the job.”
“So what do you propose?” Will asked. He wasn’t at all sure what Marden was driving at.
“I’ve got full access to the brig,” Marden said. “And I know the shift schedule. I can take care of it tonight, before we reach the transfer point.”
“No!” Will was shocked that Marden would even suggest something like that. “Marden, you can’t. You’re Starfleet. We have rules. Principles. You can’t just abandon those.”
“Yes, we have principles,” Marden said, leaning forward in the chair now. “But don’t you agree that some principles outweigh others? The idea that Endyk Plure’s life might be spared, in spite of all the deaths he’s caused—I just can’t take that. It’s repugnant to me.”
“But to take it all into your own hands ... how is that better?”
“It’s better because I would be killing one man, the killer of thousands. It’s just simple math, Will. One for many.”
“It’s more than math,” Will countered. “It’s what’s right and wrong. You can’t just decide for yourself that he’s guilty and decide his punishment.”
Marden stood up and paced around Will’s small room. “His punishment seems obvious to me. How could it be otherwise? Someone who is responsible for so many deaths ...”
“I’m just saying, there’s a system to determine that. When you put on the uniform of Starfleet, you agreed to enforce that system.”
“But, Will ... he ...” Marden looked down at Will, still sitting back on his own bed, and his face was full of anguish. Will felt bad for the man, but not so bad that he could agree with his plan. As tired as he was, he realized that if he could just keep Marden here, talking, maybe they’d get to the point where they were to transfer Endyk Plure to another vessel before Marden could throw away his own career. He could almost kick himself for the inspiration, but he felt he had to try.
“Tell me about Handihar, Marden. What did your grandfather tell you about it?”
Marden smiled for the first time, a little wistfully, as if remembering pleasant times with his grandfather. He drifted back over to the chair and sat down again. “Like I said, it’s mostly a tribal society,” he began. “Close to the land. It’s a big planet, huge, I guess, according to him, and his part of it is densely forested. Junglelike. They live in wooden structures, not much more than huts, I think. The air is so humid that the buildings have to be replaced on a pretty regular basis. My grandfather left there when he was a young man, but from what he has told me it’s still mostly that way.”
“Sounds pleasant,” Will said, just to keep Marden talking.
“I’ve always wanted to visit,” Marden told him, smiling a little as he thought about it. “He makes it sound kind of like paradise. But ... there’s one story he told me, Will. I think maybe it especially applies, in this case.”
Will had just wanted him to reminisce about the planet, trying to keep him away from the subject of Endyk Plure. But he guessed that sitting here talking was still better than seeking the guy out in the brig and killing him. “What story?” he asked.
Marden took a deep breath. Apparently it’s going to be a long one,Will thought. He hoped he could stay awake for it.
“Have you ever heard of a gralipha?”Marden asked by way of beginning.
Will racked his brain but couldn’t recall that he had.