“Son of a bitch,” muttered Shelby, the irony of the observation—considering what Anubis looked like—not being lost on her.

She knew that she had no particular reason to care about the fate of the Tholians. They were a belligerent, territorial, and duplicitous race. But needless death remained needless death, even when it happened to someone for whom one felt no affection. And it further underscored the tremendous menace that the Beings represented.

“Captain,” said Hash, turning in his chair. He looked slightly pale and shaken by what he’d witnessed. “Just before the Tholian ship was destroyed, they got out a distress message to the Tholian Assembly. They, and their allies, know what just happened here.”

“It’s going to be all over the ether in no time,” Gold said.

“Mac,” said Shelby as she stared at the emptiness of space. “Burgy. You still there?”

“I’m here, Elizabeth,” came Calhoun’s voice.

“Here, Captain,” said Burgoyne.

“I’m thinking, gentlemen ... that we may have a war on our hands.”

“Very likely.”

It was neither Calhoun nor Burgoyne who had replied, however. Instead a woman was standing on the bridge, clad in a lightweight, Greek-styled toga, with a quiver of arrows slung over her back.

Shelby rose from her chair, knowing instantly. “Artemis,” she growled.

“We are fully aware that this assault will likely bring more attackers,” said Artemis airily. “That is acceptable. But it will bring more worshippers as well. People who understand what it is we have to offer.”

“That being a quick and horrible death to anyone who doesn’t accept your word? Who doesn’t bow down to you?” demanded Shelby.

“Yes,” said Artemis with a flatness that was chilling. “We came with an offer. We were initially rebuffed. But the Danteri accepted us. Others will as well. Those that don’t ... will be annihilated. We will be worshipped. And loved. And respected. And those that don’t will pay the price that blasphemers and nonbelievers have paid throughout history.”

“That price being having to put up with poseurs laboring under the delusion of godhood?”

“Captain,” said Artemis slowly, “do you desire to have your ship encounter the same tragic end as the Tholian vessel just did?” She paused and then repeated, more sharply and with greater warning, “Do you?”

There was vast tension on the bridge. Her jaw twitching, Shelby said, “No. I don’t.”

“Ask me not to.”

“Are you threatening this ves—”

“Ask me not to.”

There was a sudden shaking and shuddering of the Trident,and Shelby was almost knocked off her feet, grabbing the back of the command chair to steady herself. Others grabbed at their consoles, and Artemis simply stood there, her arms folded. Alarm systems were going off all over the bridge.

“Don’t destroy this ship!”shouted Shelby.

An instant later, the shaking ceased. Artemis smiled then, and took a step back. “You see? That wasn’t so difficult. It was almost a prayer. But that will come in time. At least, you’d best hope it does ... lest it come too late.”

And with that, she vanished in a burst of light.

Shelby stood there, her face flushed with humiliation and anger, her eyes flinty and filled with anger.

“Elizabeth,” came Calhoun’s voice. “Are you still there.”

“Calhoun,” said Shelby, in as controlled a manner as she’d ever spoken, “round up our people and get back up to Excalibur.I’ll meet you there. I’ve had it with these creatures. It’s time to kick their asses back to whatever mountaintop they crawled down from.”

“Sounds like fun,” said Calhoun.

EXCALIBUR

I.

MOKE WAS VERY AWARE that something big was going on.

The atmosphere in the Excaliburseemed to have changed. Everyone appeared to be very focused as they went about their duties. There was very little chatter between crewmen, very little of the relaxed mood he’d come to know. The crew seemed very much “all business.”

But then Moke realized that it was an attitude that he’d be well advised to emulate. He too had business, after all, and it was up to him to attend to it. And that business very much involved speaking with Mackenzie Calhoun.

He knew that Calhoun was back on the ship. He’d tried to raise him on the com link, but when he’d identified himself, Calhoun’s voice had said brusquely, “Moke, is something wrong? Are you okay?”

“Wha—? Uh ... no,” said Moke. “No, I’m fine. It’s just—”

“Then I hate to be abrupt with you, but there’s a great deal going on at the moment, so this will just have to wait until later.” And with that, he cut the link.

Moke would have been fully aware that there was a lot going on even if Calhoun hadn’t told him. Captain Shelby had returned, and she’d brought both Mueller and also a man that Moke didn’t recognize. He was the first man whom Moke had ever seen that he would have described as “pretty,” and there was something about him that Moke definitely didn’t like. Moke tried to say hello to her, but Shelby was too deep in discussion with the man and barely glanced at him.

He didn’t take offense. He knew she had grown-up things on her mind. But he also knew that he had to talk to Mac, because “it was time.”

Coming from another direction was Zak Kebron. He looked different somehow to Moke. His skin was glistening, almost as if it was brand new. He was holding what looked to be a kind of short, curved sword, swinging it in leisurely fashion back and forth without apparently thinking about it. Several people had to jump out of the way to get clear of it. Kebron didn’t seem to notice.

“What’s that, Zak?” inquired Moke.

Kebron stopped briefly and held it up. “Well, the science department has gone over it thoroughly in tandem with engineering. As near as they can determine, it’s some sort of energy funnel. But it has not storage capability of its own. Nor are they clear on precisely what type of energy it’s designed to channel, or what it could be used for. Does that answer your question?”

Moke stood there, stunned. He hadn’t anticipated Kebron answering with anything more than two or three words at most, and probably not even that. This copious explanation was entirely outside his expectations or Kebron’s typical behavior. All Moke could manage was a nod, at which point Kebron reached out with his huge hand toward Moke’s head. For an instant, Moke thought that Kebron was going to crush his skull, but the Brikar simply ruffled his hair with one finger and then continued on his way. Moke was so surprised that he completely forgot to tell Kebron he needed to see Calhoun until it was too late.

He sprinted after Kebron, his shorter legs no match for the Brikar’s stride. He got to the turbolift moments after Kebron had already entered it, and even though the next one came along in mere seconds, it seemed an eternity to the boy. Passersby saw Moke saying “I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!” to thin air and wondered if he wasn’t becoming addled in some way.

He stepped into the turbolift and suddenly realized he wasn’t sure where to go. “Morgan,” he called out.

Morgan’s voice promptly filtered into the turbolift. “You’re the only one who calls me by name, Moke. It’s very much appreciated. What can I do for you?”

“Can you tell me what deck Kebron got off on? Or where Mac is? I need to—

“Zak Kebron is joining Captain Calhoun in the deck-three conference lounge. Would you like me to take you there?”

“Yes, please.”

As he made his way to the conference lounge, he kept running through his mind what he was going to say. The problem was that he didn’t fully comprehend it, which was frustrating, because he felt as if he should. Every so often he would mutter back to the empty air next to him, getting more confused looks from crewmen.