Текст книги "The Red King "

Автор книги: Michael Martin

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

He looked up at her, frowning. “Are you saying that Romulans can’t be trusted as a species?”

“No, of course not. But I amsaying that it takes time to build trust. And I’m also saying that you can’t expect to win everybattle.”

Glancing up at her, he smiled gently. “ ‘Sometimes you get the bear, and sometimes the bear gets you.’ Hey, I think I may have finally found our elusive dedication plaque motto.”

She chuckled. “Keep on looking, Will. But there’s a useful truth there, too. You may think Donatra ‘played’ you, but you’ve had your share of success recently doing the very same thing to the Romulans. In case you’ve forgotten, youmaneuvered Praetor Tal’Aura into accepting a Klingon-Reman protectorate right in her proverbial backyard just last week. And you’ve just had an even moreimportant success: Without you, the Neyel and who knows how many other species would probably have been entirely wiped out of existence.”

“Because I persuaded Donatra to use her fleet to close the rift.”

“Exactly.” She was beginning to wonder if he was being deliberately obtuse, until his dark mood argued otherwise. Clearly, there were aspects of this mission she didn’t yet completely understand.

“I just spoke with Dr. Cethente about that,” he said, his words punctuated by a wave of sorrow that seemed almost capable of knocking her off her feet. “We really don’t know for certain that closing the rift stopped the Red King from ‘rebooting’ all the matter and energy in the affected sectors of Neyel space.”

Her jaw dropped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He offered her a small, sad smile. “There wasn’t any point in holding a senior officers’ briefing about it. After all, it isn’t as though we can do anything about the outcome, two hundred and ten thousand light-years away from Ground Zero.”

“How soon will we know exactly what happened?” Troi asked.

“Cethente says that even with our most powerful subspace telescopes, it could take decades to find out exactly what that emergent protouniverse did after we entered the rift and sealed it after us. So there’s no way to know if our Red King eventually woke up and annihilated the entire Neyel Hegemony, or if he settled back down for another harmless, billion-year nap.”

She nodded. “So I guess there’s no point in agonizing over it. Right?”

“Try sitting in the big chair for a while, Deanna. From that perspective, it’s usually pretty tough to do anything butagonize. Take the away team on Vanguard, for example. I finallymanaged to find out that they were all safe only about ninety minutes ago. So what’s a captain to do in the meantime? Agonize.”

She nodded again, caught in another gale-force wind of his sadness and self-recrimination. She almost felt she had to raise her voice to cut through it.

“Then I suggest you focus on your unambiguous successes, Will. For instance: There are over two million people aboard Vanguard right at this moment. You saw to it that they survived, regardless of whatever might or might not have happened to the rest of Neyel space.”

He rose then and took her in his arms. His icy blue eyes were bright with unshed tears. “Thank you, Deanna,” he said before pausing momentarily to recover his composure. Being an empath, she found the gesture endearing.

“Oh, by the way Counselor,” he added. “I never gave you a formal ‘welcome aboard’ after Ree sent you back to Titan.”

They separated then, though not enough to break the embrace. They regarded each other in silence, and she met his tired smile with a wry grin of her own.

“I’m glad you finally noticed that,” she said. “But I know how busy you’ve been.” Everyonehad been busy.

“I’m sorry, Imzadi.I expect things to calm down by tonight, at least a little, once Ra-Havreii completes the damage inspections on Vanguard and we get back underway with her toward the Neutral Zone. Then I plan to execute a new plan.”

Her grin widened. “Oh? Do tell.”

“It’s called Operation: Welcome Home, but as far as the rest of the crew is concerned the code name is Operation: Do Not Disturb. You are requested, and required, to participate. Captain’s orders.”

“I’m intrigued. Brief me.”

His smile quickly glissaded from fatigued to playful. “Phase One involves my leaving the keys to the store in Chris’s capable hands. During Phase Two, I’ll go to our quarters and open that bottle of jakarine merlot that I’ve been saving. And Phase Three is actually a lot easier to demonstrate than it is to explain.”

He moved in to kiss her and she turned her face toward his.

She was utterly unsurprised when his door chime sounded. It never, ever fails,she thought as the mood shattered. Ever.

He disengaged from her, his eyes tightly closed as he massaged his temples with both hands. The gesture made him look like a Vulcan attempting to perform a mind-meld on himself. “Come!” he said sharply.

The door whisked open. Frane entered, followed by Tuvok and Akaar, who had to duck slightly to avoid brushing his head against the top of the doorway.

“Have we come at a bad time?” Akaar said.

Will gestured toward the couch that was situated along the wall nearest the desk. “Not at all, Admiral. What can I do for you?”

Tuvok sat first. Moving with surprising grace, the big Capellan took a seat beside the Vulcan. This was the first time Troi had seen them both together since the evacuation of Oghen had begun. Though neither of them were displaying any more overt emotion than usual, Troi noticed immediately that something fundamental had changed between these two very reserved men. Have they finally put aside their differences, whatever they were, after all these years?

“I have been in touch with Starfleet Command, Captain,” Akaar said. “A contingent of SCE vessels will rendezvous with Titanand Vanguard at the Federation side of the Neutral Zone. The Federation Council has granted Donatra’s fleet permission to tow Vanguard that far. From there, Vanguard will be towed back to the Sol system, where I will confer with Starfleet Command and the Federation Council on the problem of finding the Neyel and the other species aboard Vanguard a permanent home.”

“I hope we have the option of visiting Auld Aerth itself,” said Frane, who had remained standing. “If not settling there.”

Auld Aerth.In Troi’s perception, the young Neyel’s almost worshipful emotional state, coupled with his strange pronunciation of the name of Earth, conferred an almost mythic status on her father’s homeworld. Of course, to Frane—to all the Neyel refugees in the O’Neill habitat—Earthis mythic. A bedtime story told to children. The stuff of legend.

“Lieutenant Pazlar is already searching the stellar cartographic records for a suitable permanent home for the refugees aboard Vanguard,” Tuvok said.

Akaar nodded. “The search could take some time, however. Vanguard may serve indefinitely as a short-term home for the refugees while the council debates the matter, consults with the Neyel leadership, and takes its final decision.”

“Mr. Frane has made an intriguing suggestion,” Tuvok said. “At his request, Lieutenant Pazlar has widened her planet search to include K– and L-Class worlds that might be amenable to reasonably achievable terraforming efforts.”

Will nodded, and Troi saw at once that he grasped Frane’s reasoning even as she did. “To encourage the Neyel refugees to work cooperatively with their former slaves, rather than falling back into their old habits of exploiting them.”

“Where in the Sol system does Starfleet Command intend to relocate Vanguard in the meantime?” Troi asked.

“Perhaps the asteroid colony can be placed in high Earth orbit in its original L-5 position,” Akaar said. “The Neyel are humans, after all. Or it could be set in orbit around one of the Jovian or Saturnian moons.”

Frane smiled broadly, though he still seemed unaccustomed to such facial gestures. “Saturn’s moons intrigue me most, I think. Titan, for example, sounds like a nice place to get comfortable for a while.”

Will smiled at that, and turned back to Akaar. “Speaking of Titan,Admiral,” Will said. “When can we resume our original mission to explore the Gum Nebula?”

“Very soon, after you have stopped at Starbase 185 for repairs, and an inspection by Admiral de la Fuega. I caution you, Captain: she is tough.”

Will’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Coming from you, Admiral, that’s saying quite a bit.” The huge Capellan responded with the subtlest of smiles.

Troi noticed then that Frane, his tail absently switching back and forth behind him, was looking with evident curiosity at the top of Will’s desk. “What’s this?” he said, pointing at the dog-eared book that lay open there.

“It’s a journal, written by one of my ancestors,” Will said, crossing back to his desk. “He was a soldier, and a survivor. I’ve carried his life story with me on every deep space assignment I’ve drawn since I graduated from Starfleet Academy. It has always served to remind me that no matter how far away from my homeworld I traveled, I had a commitment to survive.”

Will closed the book carefully and carried it back to a broad wooden bookcase beneath a gold trombone and a bizarrely convoluted Pelagian wind instrument. He set the book gingerly on its display easel, right between a pair of U.S. Civil War–era Colt pistols. “At least long enough to get it back to the planet where Old Iron Boots Riker’s bones are buried.”

Frane continued staring at the book in wonder, and Troi sensed that he was all but overwhelmed by an emotion very akin to reverence.

Akaar rose from the sofa and approached Will, then beckoned Troi and Tuvok to approach as well. Lost in thought, Frane did not appear to have noticed.

“I have spoken with Dr. Cethente,” Akaar said in hushed tones.

“So have I,” Will said, nodding. “He says we can’t know for certain whether or not we really saved Neyel space from nonexistence.”

Akaar nodded, then trained his hard, dark gaze squarely upon Troi. “The question is: Should we tell Mr. Frane?”

“There’s no need, Admiral,” Frane said, still gazing in wonder at the book. He played absently with the elaborate bracelet on his wrist. Recalling what Will had told her of the bracelet’s significance to Frane and his ancestors, she completely understood his fascination with Thaddius Riker’s diary.

The Neyel turned to face them. “Auld Aerth existed as nothing more than a legend for centuries, as far as we Neyel were concerned. It was unreachable, unknowable, except in the realm of fables and stories.

“Oghen has been destroyed, and perhaps other key worlds of the Neyel Hegemony have died with it. Maybe allthe Neyel places are gone. That is reality, and we must face that. We Neyel have been thoroughly punished for our past sins. Just howthoroughly is now a matter perhaps best left to fable and legend.

“But we endure. Enough of us, at least, to rebuild and create something worthier than fear and empire and conquest. And perhaps that is reality enough.”

Troi sensed at once that everyone present agreed completely with Frane’s sentiments. She could only hope that a majority of the people inside Vanguard were capable of seeing the universe the same way he did.

That,she thought, would be victory enough.

Chapter Twenty-one

U.S.S. TITAN,STARDATE 57053.2

“I t is good to see you, my husband,”T’Pel said from the small monitor screen before Tuvok. “At last.”

Seated behind the desk in his quarters—which was illuminated at the moment only by a pair of meditation candles, the light of the monitor screen, and the distant, glittering pinpoints visible through the window—Tuvok recognized the almost chiding tone that underlay his wife’s otherwise calmly delivered words.

“I regret that I have not taken the opportunity to contact you before now,” he said evenly. Even as he said the words, he found them inadequate; he silently reprimanded himself for not making more of an effort to call home sometime between his rescue from Vikr’l Prison and Titan’s accidental detour to the Small Magellanic Cloud.

“I quite understand, my husband. My sources inside Starfleet informed me of your extended captivity on Romulus weeks ago. News of your subsequent…disappearance arrived only yesterday.”

Tuvok couldn’t help but wonder if Akaar had been among T’Pel’s Starfleet “sources.”

“I am gratified that your most recent absence was not nearly so protracted as the last one,”she said.

“As am I, my wife,” he said. Imprisonment and yet another accidental voyage to a remote region of space had made him more conscious than ever before of the brevity and fragility of life. “And I wish to take steps to ensure that we never again have to endure such a prolonged separation.”

“Have you decided to leave Starfleet again?” she asked, regarding him expectantly.

He told her his idea.

Ranul Keru stared into the mirror, then winced as he touched the scar on his chest. The spanner had stabbed deeply into him; according to Dr. Ree, his injuries would have killed him instantly had his internal organs been arranged precisely identically to those of a human. Keru considered himself extraordinarily lucky that Titan’s first voyage had only left him with a nasty scar, three missing days because of his coma, and some very bittersweet memories.

Although Dr. Ree had offered to fix the scar tissue, Keru wanted to keep it. It was visible now when he was shirtless, but eventually the hair they’d shaved off his chest would grow back again and cover most of it. It was a wound that he had earned,and one that would remind him not only of his own mortality, but of the gains and losses inherent in his job. He considered it almost a badge of honor.

He’d been determined from the start never to lose or sacrifice a member of his security team—as Lieutenant Commander Worf had done years ago back on the Enterprise—and thus he had trained his people hard, working them to the top of their potential and demanding still more beyond that. And yet, circumstances had led to his own injuries and coma, the loss of Feren Denken’s arm after the prison rescue mission on Romulus, and more recently, the choice he had made on Oghen that had resulted in T’Lirin’s death. He was aware of the curse of wearing security gold—their job was to put themselves in harm’s way, after all—but he had never expected things to go so badly so quickly.

He closed his eyes and once again saw the bottomless stein of bloodwine that still haunted some of his dreams, frothing and bubbling malevolently. He recognized it now for what it was: not just his anger and resentment toward Worf for killing Hawk, but also his fears that he, Keru, would also turn into something he hated.

As he reached for his tunic, he came to a decision. It’s time to concentrate on looking forward. And maybe it’s also time to start talking to someone about Worf.But not Deanna. She had been too close to the situation; Keru recalled hearing her mention that she had once been romantically involved with the Klingon officer. On top of that, he didn’t want to appear in any way weak or vulnerable in front of the captain’s wife. He hadn’t gotten a read on Counselor Haaj yet, and the tiny, blue-furred Counselor Huilan seemed a bit too cutely creepy to be taken entirely seriously as a therapist.

But there was one person aboard he knew he could start talking to immediately, someone who had also experienced the loss of a loved one, and who had also known the Klingon who had brought him so much pain. And he knew that he could trust Alyssa Ogawa to minister to his emotional health as a friend just as she had helped repair his body in her position as Titan’s head nurse.

Keru checked the chronometer mounted on one of the wall panels, tugged his tunic down one more time, then exited the room. The instant he entered the corridor, a body crashed into him, but the other, more slightly built figure took the brunt of the impact.

“Sorry, Commander Keru,” the young man said. He held up a padd. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

Keru recognized the man as Lieutenant Bowan Radowski, the transporter chief, though he knew little else about him. “No harm done,” Keru said, grinning. “But you might want to watch yourself in these corridors. You might trip over Chwolkk next time, and bumping into a Horta can be a head-over-heels experience.”

“Understood, sir,” Radowski said, then turned and walked away.

Keru took a few more steps, then turned to look at the retreating transporter chief. He saw Radowski turn back to do the same, then blush and turn away quickly.

Interesting,Keru thought.

He made his way to the turbolift, up to the bridge, then to the captain’s ready room. Inside, Commander Vale was chatting with Captain Riker. Vale had a steaming cup of raktajinoin one hand and a padd in the other as she sat in one of the chairs that fronted the starboard side of Riker’s desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Keru,” Riker said, standing and extending his hand in greeting across the desktop. Vale laid aside her padd and smiled up at Keru from where she sat.

“Captain, Commander Vale.” He shook Riker’s proffered hand, nodded to Vale, then assumed an at-ease stance immediately in front of the captain’s desk.

“I have a…modest proposal to make,” Keru began.

Immediately after Keru left the ready room, Riker tapped his combadge and summoned two other members of his senior staff.

Tuvok was standing at attention in front of Riker’s desk almost before his terse acknowledgment had ceased reverberating in the air.

“Commander Tuvok, reporting as ordered,” he said as the ready room doors opened again, this time to admit Deanna, who stood beside Tuvok, looking equally businesslike.

Riker gestured toward the empty chairs beside the one Christine Vale occupied in front of his desk. “Please have a seat. You’re both probably wondering why I’ve called you.”

“I presume it has to do with the personnel rotations being planned for Titanafter her arrival at Starbase 185,” Tuvok said as he and Deanna sat.

“Right. I want to talk to you about the future.”

Tuvok’s left eyebrow lofted itself. “Indeed.”

“I want you to stay aboard Titan,Mr. Tuvok. Permanently.”

“Sir?”

Riker thought that Tuvok’s face was registering about as much surprise as a Vulcan could handle. Deanna and Christine were both taking this in stride, of course; both were already in the know about his decision, particularly Vale.

“You heard me, Commander,” Riker said, smiling. “In a very short time you have become an invaluable member of this ship’s crew.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Your experience in Starfleet as a teacher, an intelligence operative, and as Voyager’s second officer makes you too valuable an asset for us to lose. Unless, of course, you’re determined to leave.”

“Respectfully, sir, I have merely been filling in for Commander Keru during his convalescence. I am certain that Dr. Ree will soon pronounce him fit to resume a full duty schedule, if he hasn’t done so already.”

“I think you’re misunderstanding us, Commander,” Vale said. “Commander Keru is staying on.”

“Captain Riker has merely decided to…reallocate his duties,” Deanna said.

“Commander Keru was initially assigned to Titanin a dual role as security chief and tactical officer,” said Riker. “Ranul himself suggested that we split those jobs up. He has agreed to stay on as chief of security—if we can count on you to serve as Titan’s permanent senior tactical officer.”

“Of course, this posting would be very different from teaching at the Academy,” Vale said, “or skulking around alien capitals for Starfleet Intelligence.”

Tuvok nodded, and lapsed into a contemplative silence that lasted for several seconds.

“Were I to accept this position,” he said at length, “I would have to make one request that might seem somewhat unorthodox.”

Riker grinned. “You’re aboard Titan,Commander. Unorthodox is what we do best.”

Tuvok paused again, as though to gather his thoughts. “Titanappears to be more tolerant of shipboard family living arrangements than other vessels of comparable tonnage,” he said finally.

Riker exchanged amused smiles with his wife. He noticed then that Christine seemed to be blushing, and saw that Deanna had noticed it as well.

“Well, I suppose there’s no denying that, Commander,” he said to Tuvok. “Just ask Nurse Ogawa, or the burgeoning Bolaji family. So what’s your ‘unorthodox request’?”

“When Voyagerwas lost in the Delta Quadrant, I was separated from my wife, my children, and my grandchildren for seven standard years. Over the past week, I narrowly avoided experiencing another protracted exile.”

Vale looked alarmed. “This ship has a three-hundred-and-fifty-person complement, Mr. Tuvok. This isn’t a Galaxy-class luxury hotel. We’re not exactly set up to accommodate extended families.”

“Of course not, Commander Vale. Nor would I make such an imposition. My children are grown, after all. However, my wife T’Pel and I have already discussed her joining me on my next posting, whatever that proved to be. I believe she may be amenable to living with me aboard Titan,subject to the captain’s approval, of course.”

“Done and done,” Riker said. “As long you agree to one of myrequests.”

“Captain?”

“You have to accept the job of second officer as well,” Vale said. “Third in command, right after yours truly in Titan’s cutthroat power hierarchy.”

Tuvok’s eyebrow rose. “I would be honored.”

“As will we,” Vale said.

“Congratulations, Commander,” Troi said with a smile.

Addressing Riker, Tuvok said, “Then I suppose I should get started in my new position immediately.”

“Dismissed, Mr. Tuvok,” Riker said, smiling.

“Thank you, sir. All of you,” Tuvok said, then turned and exited the ready room.

As the ready room doors hissed closed on Tuvok’s retreating back, Riker realized he had finally, at long last, found that elusive perfect epigram for Titan’s bridge dedication plaque.