Chapter Sixteen
Inquisition
"Wait a minute," Mercer commands Isaac in the Sick Bay, needing a moment to catch up following the Kaylon's dramatic revelation. "Are you saying that we're facing some sort of Mirror universe Terran Empire thing?"
Kelly Grayson, knowing her ex-husband as she does, is not surprised. She realizes she hadn't known she was well off when he'd sprung that Captain's Log two mornings ago, though she admits the image of him with that gold metallic sash about his waist would be dashing if she could at least stay clear of midriff uniform fashions, but Isaac cuts the digression off at the knees.
"You have reached an unwarranted conclusion. More data is required for an accurate assessment of their origin and determination of how they were able to transpose into our cosmos."
Kelly considers this must be Kaylonian for 'do not jump to delusions; stand down and let the adults talk.'
She admits it would be easier to do had the ship not been invaded by duplicates of Mercer, Kitan and herself, bringing with them plans for destruction and war. Two of the invaders had committed suicide rather than give up their secrets, and her own twin is in force field restraint on a bed in the Operating Theater beyond the wall while the three originals, together with Finn and Isaac, strive to find out what the Hell is going on.
x
"Then what can you tell us?" Ed demands. When he had reported to Admiral Halsey, their command chief for this sector, he'd had answers that he'd thought had made sense. He doesn't want to contact Union Central with the follow-up report this is shaping up to be.
This mission had been, on the surface, so simple; a flight to Catonis II to deliver seeds and assorted farming supplies and equipment, and even when the mission had been upped a notch with the destruction caused by extreme weather and the need to involve Dr. Aronov and his Quantum Accelerator, the issue had remained manageable.
Now it seems that nothing is.
x
"What do you have," he demands of his Science Officer.
"Little more than has previously been determined and reported."
"There's one thing that scares me," Kelly declares.
Ed can hardly believe this. "One thing?"
"When those three came aboard, however they did it, they did so under cover of darkness. We were so distracted by the loss of lights and gravity no one considered it was a cover for an invasion. My counterpart said they were going to leave pretty much the same way, except without the distraction.
"But even if they could know the Orville would be on its way to Catonis II, they couldn't have known we'd sped up, so we should have missed any rendezvous they planned, yet they hit us. How did they know where we would be and when?"
"The same applies for any scheduled extraction," Alara points out.
"You're right," Ed says. "That is scary as hell. We thought these three might be an advance guard infiltrating the ship for a mission to sow fear and chaos. But someone had to tell them the where and the when."
"We've been infiltrated," Alara says. "And not just this ship."
One person has answers. He turns to Claire. "She's awake?"
"Awake, but not talkative."
"I don't care."
xx
It's still disconcerting to have his former wife and First Officer standing beside him and also lying upon the diagnostic bed, restrained by an invisible field of force. Her patient's light blue shift is enhanced by a length of gauze wrapped about her throat. Try as he does, he can find no point of difference between the two Kellys.
'Two Kellys.' He remembers all the times when one had been quite enough. 'Not once have I ever imagined this and I hope I never see it again.'
Alara, Claire and Isaac also surround the bed, an imposing image but Mercer only cares about answers, not feelings. "They tell me you're from a different quantum universe."
"Is that what they say?" the faux Kelly asks, apparently more interested in the overhead plates.
"Why?"
"We transitioned here to kill you and destroy your government leadership," is her too calm admission.
"You're prevented from suiciding; your mission is a failure and your only hope of survival rests with your answering our questions."
She has not broken her stare with the overhead so to that she says with few inflections "My life is nothing, and neither are my answers. I made the mistake of wanting to live, but I see I have nothing to live for, so I choose not to help you."
"Captain," Isaac says, his mechanical voice, his lack of a face to offer any expression gives Mercer a chill he hasn't experienced with the Kaylon in a long time. "I believe I can offer an option that will allow the rapid securement of the data you require."
"What?"
"My analysis of human methods of extracting data indicates there is an extensive storehouse of methods that will convince her to become cooperative."
Something in the toneless assurance of the words, the expressionless lack of a face, forces the certainty into his soul and he feels his body temperature drop.
"Wait a second. You're saying you intend to torture it out of her?"
The restrained Kelly's face now contains all the expression absent from the mechanoid's, all centering upon horror.
x
"It is a commonly employed stratagem in the histories of thousands of worlds, including your own."
"NO!" Kelly's voice, in two tones, comes in stereo, one outraged and the other fearful.
"We do not torture our prisoners. The Union Charter, somewhere in those three hundred pages, forbids it."
"Kaylon 1 is not an adherent to the Union. Further, the limited time remaining and the dearth of information requires expeditious action."
He would move on to his next argument but Claire Finn is more direct, stepping between the mechanoid and the immobilized woman, outrage filling the space. "You are not going to torture my patient."
"She did say," Alara cuts in, her gaze turned to the wall chronometer "that they were going to leave before we crashed into Luna 4."
It is already past the time of that extraction and their crash, so if the extraction is still going to happen, they are on borrowed time and all the woman before them would need to do is to stall.
x
Edward Mercer has had to make many unpleasant decisions in his career, most of which had consequences for others more than himself, but this is different not only in degree but essence.
This is as much an issue of morality as of security. Even leaving off the law, there is a matter of agonizing immediacy. There may, or may not, be a time constraint but this is information they must have. Hundreds of worlds may hang in the balance, billions of lives potentially lost or saved. Isaac is a machine; he knows only programming, data, logic and efficiency. If he orders it, he has no doubt the Kaylonian will work with the utmost efficiency to secure the answers.
If only there were someone impartial whom he could consult. Kelly, Claire, and to a lesser degree Alara transmit their thoughts in their faces. Alara's decision may not be one sided; a Security Officer must see a situation like this through a different lens, perhaps enough to leave her ambivalent in this matter. He will not consider a new crew person like McGee, regardless of her professional detachment, because even without knowing her he's sure of her stand. Gordon? John? Mooska?"
There is no one to make this decision with him. In the end, there is only one with whom he can consult.
He steps past Claire, looks down into the eyes that twin those of the woman he'd loved and married, and lost and found and fought and still loves. He wishes they were different.
"You must understand that if I tell him to, he will extract that information. Make it easy on yourself and talk."
The faux Kelly breaks her stare with the overhead that she had maintained through the debate and turns her head until their gazes lock. "You are more of an imbecile than I'd thought."
x
He turns to Isaac. "Do it."
"CaCapEdpttainin!" is an indistinguishable, three-ply protest he must cut through.
"Move out." None of the outraged women want to move. "That's an order."
He is the last to move and, as he looks back, he sees thin filaments extend from each of the Kaylon's fingertips.
xx
In the outer room they are unprepared for the immediacy of the first scream which cuts through the wall that should have contained the most horrid cries of wounded crewmembers. Claire has turned on him first but Mercer's upheld hand halts her charge. Before she can give voice to her outrage a piercing screech cuts through the barrier.
He wants to stop this. They need the information this woman has.
"Ed!" Kelly's voice cuts through nerves. He can imagine her thoughts at what the implacable Kaylon is doing; he won't allow himself to picture her on that table, but a long shriek tears at his soul.
The three had infiltrated the ship with plans to kill. Even now the Union stands on the precipice of disaster.
He knows that inside that room Isaac is employing the most efficient methods devised over millennia on worlds the number of which he doesn't want to consider, and all with the same emotional content the Science Officer would employ in listing the circuits found in a door panel.
He has to get this information to Union Central. Who can say how many lives hang in the balance?
He clenches his fists as another scream cuts through him, and it goes on and on to the point when agony empties lungs, and quite probably the pain does not diminish.
He can't stop it. They would have killed his crew, hundreds, maybe thousands of others and plunged the galaxy into war.
A few seconds later a screech, even louder, blasts through the wall.
"That's it, I've had this," Claire grates, starting past him.
He grabs her arm. "They were willing to die rather than reveal –."
"I don't care!"
What he would say is cut, not by a scream but by a soft voice amplified from the overhead.
x
"Good afternoon," the woman's voice says, her tone floating in a gentle Irish brogue. "Merry and Blessed Christmas, Chanukah and all other appropriate greetings. This is Lieutenant Crystal McGee. I'm, well, I invite you to the First Service of Christmas, that is, the Christmas Eve Service of Lessons and Carols, to be held in the ship's Holodeck at 1700 hours. Thank you."
The invitation is punctuated by a shriek.
x
He whirls toward the door, restraint broken so sharply he pulls the physician instead of restraining her.
"Stop!" is out before the portal is fully open.
Mercer can see, in that first moment, an unknown number of filaments retract into Isaac's mechanical fingers and the tips of those digits close.
He doesn't want to know.
Isaac turns about, as emotionally vested as though he were seated at his post. On the table the woman's chest heaves in huge gasps, her sobs loud upon their souls.
"The process is incomplete," comes almost in a chiding tone. "I have not succeeded in extracting the information you require," he says with all the emotional content he would employ in giving an atmospheric analysis of the room.
"Never mind that. Back off."
x
When the four surround the table the gasping woman upon it is bathed in perspiration and yet shows no marks of the torment she had suffered. Mercer has no doubt that no marks would be found upon or in her body. The torture had been very efficient and could have lasted a full day or more at that terrible level.
"Will you tell us?"
The woman slowly turns her head and it takes a deep and tightly held breath to regain enough control with which to say "No."
xxx
Ed Mercer had not wanted to contact Union Central and the white-haired Admiral Halsey so soon and with so incomplete a report, but between himself and Kelly Grayson they manage to complete a sufficient summary of the situation.
"Admiral, I don't believe we will get anything out of her at this point, not without using methods of … questionable merit." He hadn't reported yet what methods had been used. Such a report is not to be given other than in person. If there are consequences, they must fall upon him alone.
"Neither do I," the venerable man replies. When next he speaks, his tone is grim. "Transport the woman and the bodies of the other two to Central Security; I am sending a ship to rendezvous with you. After this, resume your course to Catonis II. Dr. Aronov will be waiting with his machine. Then resume your mission." He leans closer toward the pick-up. "You and your crew are relieved of all responsibility in this matter. It is being classified Top Secret. Your orders are to reveal nothing to anyone outside the Admiralty. Signify your understanding of this."
Both Mercer and Grayson formally acknowledge the order.
"We owe you all an unrepayable debt. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Admiral."
And with that the image switches to the Planetary Union sigil, a definite period to the conversation.