It was large and cylindrical, with moorings that had fused it to the floor, ceiling, and walls so that it was impossible to move. It beeped imperturbably, and it was counting down.
Si Cwan's face darkened as Kebron turned to face him. "All right, Cwan. All yours. Handle it."
Si Cwan approached it tentatively. There was a small display on the face of it, counting down. "I think it's a bomb," he said.
"Yes. A superheated thermite bomb, if I'm not mistaken. From the readings and the power escalation, I'd say it's going to detonate within two minutes. If I had to guess, I'd surmise that Zoran is long gone, and has left us to the bomb's nonexistent mercies."
Trying to fight down desperation, Si Cwan's fingers explored the outer casing. It was seamless. "Kebron, I'm no munitions expert. You have to disarm it."
"I have sworn I would not interfere in the outcome of the battle. The bomb was obviously left by Zoran; it's part of the battle. For me to take any action would be in violation of my oath. It would be dishonorable. I'm afraid I can't do that."
Si Cwan looked at him with undisguised incredulity. "Is this some Brikar idea of a joke?"
"I'm quite serious." He paused. "You could, of course, release me from my vow . . ."
"I release you! Irelease you!"
The moment he heard that, Kebron crossed quickly to the bomb and began to look it over. Putting his strength into it, he attempted to twist open the casing. When it resisted his efforts, he pulled experimentally at the moorings, and then with greater force. The metal bars held firm. He paused, contemplated the situation a moment, and then turned to Si Cwan and put a large hand on Cwan's shoulder. "May you have the eyes of the gods upon you, and success and glory in all future endeavors."
"Don't just yammer at me! Do something!"
I am doing something, he said unflappably. "I'm wishing you well in the afterlife. Aside from that, my options are somewhat limited."
"Disarm the bomb!"
"With two hours to work on it and a Starfleet bomb squad backing me up, that might be an option. As it is . . ."
"You have a phaser. Shoot it! Disintegrate it!"
"Any attempt to do so will set it off. Furthermore, do you see this indicator?" and he pointed to one panel. "It's a motion sensor. Any attempt to move the bomb will also set it off."
Si Cwan was already in motion. "Let's go."
"Where?" asked Kebron curiously.
"To the far end of the ship!"
"Cwan, when this thing goespart of the ship is going to be the far end. It's going to be scattered all over the system."
In helpless frustration, Si Cwan stared at the bomb and came to the same realization that Kebron had come to the moment he'd seen it.
There was a long silence, and then Si Cwan turned to Kebron and said, "I want you to understand: I am not afraid of death. In some ways, it's almost a blessing. But it angers me that I die while Zoran gets away. It angers me very much."
"Life is loose ends."
Si Cwan nodded, watching the bomb tick down, and then he patted Kebron on the shoulder. "You are a fine warrior, Kebron. I regret that we did not have more time to work out our differences. At least. . . at least I go to be with my sister, as you go to be with your parents."
"My parents."
Kebron looked at him blankly. "Yes. Your parents. Killed on the mining colony by Orion . . . pirates . . ."
"Oh, that," and Kebron's massive shoulders moved in something akin to a shrug. "It seemed like a convenient thing to tell you at the time. Actually, my parents live on Brikar. My mother is a politician, my father a salesman of motivational programs. They're alive and well. Thank you for your concern, though."
Si Cwan stared at him. "You made it up?"
"Of course I did. I wanted you to feel we had something in common so that you'd listen to me rather than run about like plan."
The bomb ticked down to zero.
"I hate you," said Si Cwan.
And the ship blew up.
LAHEERA
VIII.
CALHOUN WAS ON HIS WAYup to the bridge,anxious to speak with Shelby and Lefler, who had just returned from the surface of Nelkar. In heading to the turbolift, however, he met Selar in the corridor. "Doctor," he greeted her, his voice carefully neutral.
"Captain," she replied, inclining her head in return and continuing on her way.
Unable to resist, he turned and said, "Dr. Selar . . . is everything all right?"
She stopped and faced him, her arms folded across her chest. "That is a broad question, sir. Could you be more specific?"
"I could. Are you going to force me to be?" She simply stood there, staring at him with feigned disinterest.
"All right." He took a step forward. "I—"
Then his comm badge beeped, and he tapped it. "Calhoun here."
"Captain, we're receiving a communication from the Nelkarites," came Shelby's voice.
"On my way," he said. "Doctor . . . we'll continue this later."
"I look forward to it, sir," she told him, and it was only after Calhoun had walked off that she came to the startled realization that she'd just told her first lie.
Calhoun walked out onto the bridge, noting that Soleta was back at her science station, and reasoning that it would be pointless to pump her for information regarding Selar. From the tactical station, Boyajian said, "On screen, sir?"
"Not yet. Shelby, Lefler . . . report, please." He sat in the command chair and steepled his fingers.
"The facilities that we were shown for the refugees, although hardly luxurious, are far from spartan," Shelby informed him. "The Nelkarites seem genuinely interested in providing aid, and accepting the refugees into their society."
"And the refugees desire to remain there?"
"They have made that quite clear. I even suggested that they return to for a final debriefing; instead they voted amongst themselves, and it was unanimously requested that their possessions be sent down to Nelkar. They wish to stay. They seem happy there."
"I'm overjoyed," Calhoun said with what seemed a significant lack of enthusiasm. "Lefler?"
"Their society is not terribly advanced by our standards. They seem . . . lazy' doesn't seem the right word. 'Unmotivated,' perhaps. They have no major scientific research programs. They merely acquire things from other races and use those things to advance themselves. They sort of 'piggyback' on the accomplishments of others."
"All right. Recommendations?"
"There doesn't seem to be much to offer in that department, Captain," Shelby said. "The refugees have made their desires clear. They wish to stay on Nelkar. We cannot interfere in their stated wishes, nor should we. It would be contrary to the Prime Directive. More than that. . . it would border on the tyrannical."
Calhoun looked at her with mild surprise. "Commander. . . I may be many things. But 'tyrant' is hardly among them."
"I'm very aware of that, sir," she said reasonably. "That's why I'm afraid there really isn't much choice."
He drummed his fingers on the armrest for a moment. "It certainly appears that way. All right, Boyajian . . . put them on screen."
A moment later, an opulent room appeared on the monitor. There was Captain Hufmin, swathed in fine blue robes. There was a smile plastered on his face, and considering the drink in his hand and the manner in which he was swaying, the smile wasn't the only thing that was plastered. Next to him was Laheera, and the somewhat inebriated Hufmin was no longer making any attempt to hide his leering appraisal of her.