Star Trek: The Original Series: Rihannsu: The Empty Chair by Duane Diane

Author:Duane, Diane [Duane, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3
Publisher: Star Trek
Published: 2006-11-28T05:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

IN HOUSE KHELLIAN on ch’Rihan, Arrhae was sitting in her dayroom and sipping a cup of hot herbdraft, trying to get some command of her nerves. It seemed that any chance noise or sudden occurrence could make her start. She lived in fear of the commlink going off again.

There was a scratch at the dayroom door. She jumped where she sat, and then cursed most fiercely at herself.

After a moment the door opened. “Mistress,” Mahan said, putting his head in the door, “my pardon.”

She found a slight small smile for him. “It wasn’t you I was cursing, Mahan.”

“I’m glad of that,” he said, and managed to sound slightly disapproving of her language. “But, mistress, there’s a person here at the door.” Mahan looked briefly confused. “He says he desires to speak with the noble deihu—and there’s something odd about him.”

Arrhae looked at him, her heart already starting to beat fast and hard enough to leave her certain it could be heard from right over there. “Odd in what way?”

“Mistress, it’s hard to say,” Mahan said. “He seems nothing much like the military or government people we’ve seen in and out, these latest days.”

“Perhaps that’s a relief,” Arrhae said. Not military. While she was relieved, there were still too many things that could mean. Intelligence? “Of what kind is he?”

“He is a dark-visaged man, and bears himself quietly,” Mahan said. “In fact, I may have misspoken myself. He is not in uniform, but he has something of the look of a man who might have been in service once himself.”

She shook her head. “Mahan, I will go to the door with you. Perhaps with a precaution or so.”

He nodded. Together they made their way through the front hall, and to the door, and there Mahan paused for a moment. He glanced at Arrhae, and then at the little cupboard inset behind the hinge side of the door. She understood the look quite well. In there, finger-locked to her and Mahan and a few other trusted household staff, were several small but highly effective hand weapons. Mahan quietly turned to the little cupboard and put his thumb to the lock. The door popped open.

Arrhae glanced at the cupboard. “If it is an Intelligence operative, and he really wanted me, none of this would stop him. Nevertheless, open the door, Mahan. Let’s see this strange caller.”

Mahan touched the door open, stepping into place behind it, as was proper when he was opening it in the presence of the mistress of the house. The dark-clothed shape standing on the doorstep now turned as the door opened, looking into Arrhae’s face.

For a moment or so, Arrhae’s mind went quite blank with confusion. She fumbled for recognition as one will sometimes do on seeing a person from a shop or stall out on the street and out of their normal place. For that frozen moment, as she and the man looked at each other, Arrhae felt disoriented. But a second later, memory locked into place, and she realized whom she was looking at.

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