"Understood," Calhoun said neutrally.
"Captain Hufmin . . . I extend to you and your . . . cargo,"she seemed amused by the notion, "sanctuary on Nelkar. We welcome you with open arms."
Boretskee and Gary looked at each other with undisguised joy and relief. "We accept your offer," they said.
"Excellent. I shall inform my homeworld." The screen shimmered and she was gone.
"Now, wait a minute," said Shelby. "Are you quite certain about this?"
"Commander, we are not pioneers," Gary replied. "We are not intrepid adventurers like yourselves. We're just trying to survive, that's all. Whether we survive on their world or somewhere outside of the Thallonian Empire, what difference does it make?"
"Isn't there an old Earth saying about any port in a storm?" Hufmin reminded them.
"Yes, and there's also one about fools rushing in," said Calhoun.
Boretskee bristled a bit. "I can't say I appreciate being considered a 'fool,' Captain."
"I didn't say that—"
Cary cut in. "We are grateful to you for all you've done for us. You saved our lives. For that our next generation of children will be named for you. But, Captain," and Cary gestured as if trying to encompass the whole of the galaxy, "this environment you sail through—space—you're comfortable in it. You've made your peace with it. But myself, Boretskee, the others in our group . . . we're not spacefaring types. This vacuum . . . it presses on us. Intimidates us. We almost died in it. If the Nelkarites offer us safe escort and a life on their world, we'll happily embrace it."
Hufmin took in both Shelby and Calhoun with a bland shrug. "Look . . . I'm just a hired gun here. They're the passengers. Barring desires that run contrary to the safety of my vessel, I'm obligated to take them where they want to go.''
"Perhaps. But I'm not," Calhoun said. They looked at him, a bit appalled. "Captain . . . you wouldn't," said Boretskee.
"I have to do what I think is right. And I'm loath to thrust you into a potentially dangerous situation . . ."
"We're already in a potentially dangerous situation," Gary pointed out. "We're in the depths of space. That's dangerous enough as far as we're concerned. It almost killed us once. We have no desire to give it a second opportunity."
"With all respect, Captain, this shouldn't be your decision," Boretskee said.
"With all respect, sir . . . that is precisely what it is," replied Calhoun. He rose from his seat and turned away from them, his hands draped behind his back. "I'll let you know what I decide presently. That will be all."
"Now wait one minute—"
"I believe, sir, that the captain said that would be all," Shelby said calmly, her fingers interlaced on the table in front of her. "Temporary quarters have been set up to house you and your fellow passengers. Perhaps the time could be well spent discussing your options with them . . . just in the event that you're not all of the same mind."
"Apparently what we decide is irrelevant," said Boretskee challengingly. His fists were tightly clenched; it was clear that he was a bit of a scrapper, just waiting for Calhoun to react in some aggressive manner. When Calhoun did not even turn, however, Boretskee continued angrily, "Wouldn't you say so, Captain?"
Calhoun turned to look at him, and his purple eyes were as sympathetic as a black hole. "Yes. I would." The air turned more frigid with each word.
To his credit, Boretskee didn't seem inclined to back down. But Gary headed off any continuing hostility as she tugged on Boretskee's arm and he allowed himself to be led out of the room. Captain Hufmin paused at the door long enough to say, "Look, Captain . . . I don't give a damn either way. I'm making almost no money on this job as it is. But for what it's worth, these are people who have lost everything. Be a shame if they lost their self-respect, too."
Shelby waited until the moment that Hufmin was gone and out of earshot, and then she said to Calhoun, "It's not your choice, you know."
He raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"
"Regs are clear on this. These people know where they want to go. You don't have any conceivable grounds upon which to overrule their desire."
"Yes,I do."
"That being?"
"My gut."
She leaned back, arms folded. "Your gut," said, unenthused. "Funny. I don't remember reading about that in my Intro to Regs class back at the Academy. Guts, I mean.' "
"Nelkar smells wrong."
"First your stomach, now your nose. Are you a Starfleet captain or a gourmet?"
And to her utter surprise, he slammed the conference table with an iron fist. The noise startled her and she jumped slightly, but quickly composed herself. And just as quickly as she reined herself in, so did Calhoun. "I'm dealing with subtleties, Commander. Regulations aren't created for subtleties. They're created as sweeping generalizations to handle all situations. But not every situation."
"And it can't be that every situation, you do whatever the hell you want. Nor can it be that you let your frustration get to you so quickly and so easily."
"I'm not frustrated," Calhoun said. "I simply know what I know. And what I know is that Nelkar seems off. I don't trust Laheera."
"Be that as it may, Mac . . . do you want to be a dictator? With your history, do you feel comfortable with that label?"
He smiled thinly. "You always know just what to say."
"Long practice." She sauntered toward him, stopping several feet away. "Look, Mac . . . for what it's worth, I respect your gut, your nose . . . all your instincts. But that has to be balanced against conducting ourselves in an orderly fashion. We're the only Starfleet vessel out here. We're here at a time of disarray. We have to stand for something, and we can't simply come in and throw our weight around. It's patronizing; don't you see that?"
"Yes, I see that. By the same token, should I deliberately allow people to go into a dangerous situation when I can prevent them from doing so?"
She was silent for a long moment. "You mean like with the captain of the Grissom?"
With a deep sigh, Calhoun told her, "Eppy . . . you know I admire you. Respect you. Still have deep feelings for you, as much as I hate to admit it . . . although certainly not romantic, God knows . . ."
"Of course not," she quickly agreed.
"But so help me, if you bring up the Grissomagain, I may become violent."
"Really. Try it and I'll kick your ass. Sir.
" And he laughed. "You know . . . I'll bet you could, at that." But then he became serious again. "Very well, Commander. But this will be done on my terms."
"Your terms being . . . ?"
For reply, he tapped his comm unit. "Bridge . . . open a hailing frequency to the Nelkar ship. Pipe it down here."
Within moments Laheera was smiling at them in that beatific manner she had. "Greetings," she said. "Are you preparing to transport your charges over to our ship?"
"Actually," replied Calhoun, "I was anticipating that we would transport them ourselves, if it is all the same to you."
Shelby looked from Calhoun to Laheera, trying to get some hint of her state of mind. But if Laheera seemed at all disconcerted by Calhoun's statement, she did not give the slightest sign. "That would be perfectly acceptable. I will send you the coordinates for our homeworld. Laheera out."