By Peter David
Captain MacKenzie Calhoun has confronted terrific odds sooner than, yet not anything he has ever skilled may possibly organize him for the simultaneous threats from of the main harmful forces he’s ever encountered. the 1st is the D’myurj—a mysterious and robust alien race bent on both the full domination of humanity or its destruction . . . a probably gigantic threat to the very foundations of Starfleet, person who is going so deep it’s most unlikely to figure out whom to belief. the second one is much more alarming: Morgan Primus, as soon as a dwelling creature with a soul and a moral sense, now an extremely subtle machine simulation taking on place of abode in the very middle of the U.S.S. Excalibur . . . and fast turning into a transforming into threat for the Federation. MacKenzie Calhoun is enjoying a deadly video game as he makes an attempt to outwit and outmaneuver those new enemies, with the destiny of the Excalibur workforce participants and almost certainly the lives of billions at stake. . . .
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Additional resources for Blind Man's Bluff (Star Trek: New Frontier 18)
So removing oneself emotionally from the fray was the best way to survive it. This was the philosophy under which M舗k舗n舗zy had lived his life and, as a result, he had continued to live. It was uncertain, however, just how much longer he was going to be able to claim that status. Where the hell are they? M舗k舗n舗zy wondered yet again. He did not allow fear for his followers to cloud his concerns. It was more irritation that they were not where they were supposed to be. He had waited long enough to realize they were not going to meet with him as intended.
The Admiral blinked once, twice, and then pulled herself back into the real world. 舡 The doors hissed open and Mackenzie Calhoun strode in. Despite everything that he had been through and all that had happened recently, his back was as ramrod straight as ever, and there was a dangerous determination in his eyes that underscored his indefatigable personality. He was a cork in an ocean, capable of being pushed down by waves and storms but always bobbing back to the surface. He could never be kept down.
It was the one vulnerability in Calhoun舗s intellectual makeup, and the only one that she was in a position to exploit. She intended to do just that. And the first step in that process had already been put into motion. Nechayev was sitting in her office, absolutely immobile. Anyone glancing in at her would have thought that she was either dead or a statue. Her gaze focused on thin air, as if she had selected a particular point at random and was now putting all her attention on it. She could have remained that way for an indefinite period.