Star Trek - Unification Part 14

Gretchen Naylor seemed to be trembling slightly, mouth open, eyes focused on empty s.p.a.ce in the room. She drew a breath, struggling once again for composure. "Actually, I didn't even go to the funeral. I had divisional tests that day." And she burst into tears.

Troi offered her tissues and let her cry for a while, occasionally patting her shoulder and murmuring supportively. She knew the acc.u.mulated grief of years was coming to the surface, a mourning that had never taken place. Crying wouldn't erase that pain, but it would help bring it closer to the surface.

After a while, Naylor mopped at her face. Her words, when she spoke, were occasionally interrupted by bouts of fresh sobs. "I never got to take care of him. Everyone else held him, and took him for walks, and sang songs to him. I would hear them from my room while I was studying. But they wouldn't let me take the time from my work." She cried for a few minutes more, then looked up at Troi. "He was a beautiful little boy... so tiny and helpless... but he had eyes like mine. We were the only ones in the family with green eyes... and I always thought he belonged to me a little... but I hardly even got to hold him."

She rose and started pacing again. "Once I snuck into his room when everybody was asleep, and I sat by his bed all night and whispered to him, about how much I loved him and all the things we'd do together when he got well. The next morning I fell asleep in cla.s.s, but I didn't care."

She stopped pacing and looked at Troi. "That night, he got a very high fever. Before they could bring it down, he went into convulsions, and... and he died. I loved him so much I thought my heart would crack into pieces. But I couldn't even go to his funeral."

She sat down again, wiping at her eyes. "I'm sorry, Counselor. I haven't thought about this in years."

"I'm sure that's true." "This won't happen again, I promise you."

"I hope that's not so, Gretchen. You've never grieved for that little brother. It's time you went through that." "I don't want to think about it."

"I know. But you must acknowledge the pain, not bury it."

Naylor took a great shuddering breath, tried a crooked smile. "We were talking about finding a hobby, and it turned into this."

And a thought struck Troi. "Do you think you might like to volunteer in the nursery?" Naylor looked at her curiously. "The nursery?" "There are always a number of babies being cared for there. Many of the couples on the Enterprise both work, and put their children in care centers during the day. The nursery is always looking for extra hands to hold and cuddle the babies."

Troi could feel Gretchen rolling the idea over in her mind, tasting it, trying it. "Maybe," she ventured.

Troi had an instinct that this young woman might take pleasure in giving care to a helpless creature. She had been cheated from so much of life, and certainly she had some healing to do regarding her baby brother. The nursery might be just the place for her.

Gretchen composed herself and, after promising to see Troi professionally for a few weeks, departed. Troi had an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. Being a counselor might not be the most exciting job on the s.h.i.+p, but when things happened right, there was nothing quite like it. This kind of fulfillment was buoying to her, and she imagined that even a captain like Jean-Luc Picard would value these small moments of triumph.

Riker was standing on the bridge of the Enterprise, looking at the viewscreen. There he saw the bridge of the Klingon s.h.i.+p Kruge, with Picard, Data, and the Klingon captain all in evidence. Riker had been running down his experiences at Qualor, and the information he had pried loose from the Ferengi dealer, Omag.

"As soon as I heard this Barolian s.h.i.+p was at Galorndon Core, I started to think Romulans," he concluded, and saw Picard absorb the intelligence and try to determine its significance.

"And the Romulans are suddenly very interested in bonding with the Vulcans," Picard mused. "Spock has been meeting with the new Senate proconsul about reunification."

Riker was stunned. A formal realigning of the Vulcans and Romulans? Such a possibility had never entered his mind. "Reunification?" he repeated lamely.

"The Romulan proconsul says he is prepared to endorse peace talks," Picard continued, and Riker found that statement even more surprising. A Romulan leader pus.h.i.+ng for peace? "What about Spock?" he asked.

"The amba.s.sador is skeptical but he cares a great deal about reunification. As long as there's a chance of success, he will pursue it."

Troi spoke up. "I'm afraid I don't see where a stolen Vulcan s.h.i.+p fits into all this."

"Neither do I, Counselor." Picard's eyes sought out Riker again. "How soon can you be at Galorndon Core, Number One?"

Riker checked the calculations on his chair console. "Little over eight hours," he replied.

"It may be a wild-goose chase, but I don't think we have a choice, do you?" "Agreed."

The image on the viewscreen suddenly began breaking up, and Riker saw Data turn from the console on the Klingon bridge. "We are losing our Romulan carrier wave, sir," he announced.

Picard turned to Riker once more. "We'll advise you further when you get there, Number One. Picard out."

The signal snapped out completely and Riker found himself looking at stars once more. He turned to the ensign at Conn. "Ensign, set a course to Galorndon Core. Take us to warp eight."

He settled into the command chair and watched as the stars turned from pinpoints to streaks as the ma.s.sive s.h.i.+p jumped to high-warp speed. The solution to the mystery had been eluding him all along this journey. Maybe he would find the answer at Galorndon Core.

Chapter Eighteen.

CAPTAIN K'VADA WAS ALL but salivating with glee. The android-that glorious creature who had returned his shoulder to its rightful position, where it was now mending nicely-had managed to tap into the Romulan information net. The possibilities this opened for K'Vada were infinite. He listened carefully as Picard and Data huddled over the computer where the android was accessing information.

"Captain, the Romulan subs.p.a.ce logs identify a transmission from the Romulan surface to a Barolian s.h.i.+p near Galorndon Core twelve hours ago."

Picarcl nodded as though this had some significance, and K'Vada felt compelled to set him right. "Galorndon Core is along the Barolian trade route. They trade a great deal with the Romulans. It's probably just routine."

But Data spoke up. "This would not appear to be routine," he a.s.serted. "I have been able to trace the source of the transmission. It incorporates the code prefix of Romulan intelligence."

K'Vada's salivation increased. Rornulan intelligence! He would be lauded far and wide for bringing this plum to his people. "Can you access it, Data?" Picard was asking. Data's fingers flew over the controls. K'Vada noted that he functioned at a higher rate of speed than either humans or Klingons, and filed that away for future reference. "It appears to be a short sequence of numbers," he announced. "One, four, zero, zero."

Picard frowned. "Nothing else?"

"No, sir."

The Starfleet Captain paced for a moment, then turned back to them. "I want to advise the amba.s.sador immediately. Mr. Data, you will accompany me to the surface."

K'Vada's temper flared a bit; now, just when he had everything at his fingertips, they were going to prolong this foolish mission! Picard was heading for the portal; he turned back and said to K'Vada, "Captain, maintain an emergency transport schedule at our beam-in coordinates."

K'Vada simmered. Not only would they not be able to leave here, but he had to act as a wet nurse to the two Starfleet officers, staying on alert until they decided to come back to the s.h.i.+p. The words were out of his mouth before he thought. "I do not take orders from you, Picard," he snapped.

He was unprepared for the response this produced. Picard turned on him and, in perfect Klingon, barked, "P'tah J'ginQuoE Ktah!" K'Vada blinked. The intensity of the oath was surprising.

"You will lock on those coordinates at sixty-minute intervals after our arrival."

K'Vada did not answer, and Picard and Data moved to the portal. K'Vada overheard the android say mildly, "That was not very Vulcan of you, sir." And they went out.

As soon as the portal had shut behind them, K'Vada began to laugh. He liked this Picard! Any human who could swear like that won his respect. And anyone who could stand up to K'Vada was a man who was not going to be stopped by the Romulans.

Picard and Data would be back on his s.h.i.+p. They would make their way through the Neutral Zone and then back to the Klingon home world. K'Vada would bring great honor to himself with his information about Romulan intelligence; he would spur the development of an artificial life-form and that would only enhance his position. He would give up the wandering life of a stars.h.i.+p captain and settle down with K'kam -who would of course give up her own career to be with himmand they would live out their days in glory.

Captain K'Vada settled into his command chair. If only there were truly fresh gagh on this s.h.i.+p, everything would be perfect.

Spock was preoccupied when he entered Krocton segment, and so he didn't notice D'Tan until the boy was almost on top of him. "Mr. Spock!" D'Tan called. "I've been looking for you."

Spock almost smiled. This boy's fervid enthusiasm was infectious. "I have been meeting with the proconsul, D'Tan," he said. It was that meeting that had so occupied his thinking. He and Neral had spent several hours outlining the parameters of the discussions that would take place following their historic announcement that the worlds of Vulcan and Romulus would begin talks that might drastically alter the future.

"Does he still speak of reunification?" asked D'Tan, and Spock smiled at the unfettered idealism he saw reflected in D'Tan's eyes.

"He speaks of nothing else," he replied. Nothing else, his mind's voice repeated, though Spock was not certain why.

He and D'Tan moved to a table at the food court. The boy pulled some objects from his pocket-small, oddly shaped blocks with carving on each one. "Have you ever seen any of these?" asked the boy.

He lay them in Spock's palm, and the amba.s.sador turned them over, inspecting them. "The syllabic nucleus of the Vulcan language," he said softly.

"They were my toys when I was small," explained D'Tan.

Spock stared at him. "Your parents wanted you to learn the Vulcan language?"

"As did their parents before them. To prepare for the day when we will live again with our Vulcan cousins."

Spock looked into the boy's eager face, and reflected in it he saw the possibilities of a glorious future-an era of peace among worlds, a reign of truth and contemplative tranquility. He was profoundly moved as he looked into the small, impetuous face.

He almost didn't notice when Jaron appeared in front of them and leaned in to speak quietly. "Your Federation friends have returned," he said. "They must see you immediately. I've told Pardek. He will meet you at the cave." Then Jaron moved off swiftly.

Spock rose and placed the small blocks in D'Tan's hand, then clasped the hand shut over them. He held the boy's hand for a moment, as though drawing strength from him, and then he turned and started for the caves.

Picard had waited anxiously until Jaron returned to tell him that he had been successful in contacting Spock; He was relieved when Jaron told him the amba.s.sador would be there shortly. And Pardek was even now entering the caves, hurrying to Picard with a look of concern on his round face.

"What is it, Picard?" he asked worriedly.

"I'11 wait until Spock gets here, Senator, if you don't mind. I'd rather brief you both at once." "Of course."

"Intelligence gathered by my crew on the Enterprise, and by Commander Data. I hope it will prove to be nothing alarming."

"As do I, Captain." With that, Pardek retired to a side wall of the cavern and sat down heavily. Picard remembered that he was as old as Spock-well over a hundred years. Hurried, anxious visits to the underground caverns must take a toll on him.

Spock arrived minutes later, and Picard immediately launched into a recounting of the events that his first otticer had encountered on Qualor Two-how a stolen Vulcan s.h.i.+p had been pa.s.sed from hand to hand and was ultimately delivered to a Barolian freighter near a Romulan-controlled planet, Galorndon Core.

And then there was the message Data had uncovered, directly traceable to the Romulan intelligence unit, a message sent a few hours ago-to a Barolian freighter near Galorndon Core.

"The only communication that was sent," he said finally, "were the numbers one, four, zero, zero." Pardek looked puzzled. "What does it mean?" There was a brief silence, and then Spock's voice, sounding strangely weary, interjected. "It means," he said, "that the proconsul has apparently been attempting to deceive me."

Spock moved away from them, as though this betrayal were a physical anguish. "For what purpose I cannot say yet," he said. "But his conversations with me have obviously been part of a greater plan involv-ing the stolen Vulcan s.h.i.+p."

"How do you know that, Amba.s.sador?" asked Data.

"The time the proconsul has set for the subs.p.a.ce announcement of our peace initiative is fourteen hundred hours tomorrow. One, four, zero, zero."

Pardek looked puzzled. "But why would they need a Vulcan s.h.i.+p?" he queried.

"That will become clear very shortly." A woman's voice rang out through the caves, and all eyes turned toward the ramp leading to the entrance. Pieard's heart went cold when he saw her. It was Sela.

Young and lithe, she strode down the ramp, her beauty radiant in the damp of the cave. Part Romulan, part human, her short, cropped blond hair glistened in the light of the kekogen lamps. She wore the uniform ofa Romulan commander and held a disruptor in her hands. Her eyes were blue ice.

From all sides, Romulan guards entered, quickly taking Picard and Data's weapons and surrounding the small group of men. It was swift and well Orches-trated. Picard realized with consternation that they had been set up for this capture. He turned to face Sela. "Captain Picard," she purred. Her voice was silken honey; it belied the evil of which she was capable. "Welcome to Romulus. I trust you've enjoyed your visit."

He did not respond. He would not play games with Sela. She smiled and glanced toward Data.

"And this is the android I have come to respect in battle." The irony in her voice may have escaped Data, who said politely, "Lieutenant Commander Data."

Sela. That he should encounter her again, here- was there some predestination involved? Some or-dained fate that threw their lives into synchronous collision? And was she Tasha's daughter?

No matter. Whatever her genesis, she was a creature without conscience, and her presence in this underground chamber gave a frightening new twist to this situation.

Sela stared at the Starfleet captain known as Picard and felt an undeniable thrill of triumph. She had heard this man's name from the earliest time she could remember-and had grown up hating him. Her mother had talked of him constantly, as she did of all her fellow officers on the Enterprise, and Sela had gradually decided that each of those people was her blood enemy.

It was bad enough that her mother was human, and a common prisoner. That she failed to realize the honor that had been bestowed on her by General Meldet, who chose to mate with her-this was what Sela could not forgive. Her mother was not only foolish but unworthy.

Sela was the product of the union between the captured Starfleet officer and one of the highest-ranking generals in the Romulan guards. And during the brief part of her childhood while her mother still lived, she was subject to Tasha Yar's endless stories of the vast stars.h.i.+p on which she had served, and the wonderful people she had worked with. It was a strange story, and Sela didn't fully understand it. Tasha kept saying that Captain Picard had sent her "from the future." Sela didn't know what that meant until she was older, and even then she couldn't comprehend it. But what Tasha had said was that her s.h.i.+p, the Enterprise D, had somehow encountered its counterpart from the past-the Enterprise C.

It was some kind of s.p.a.ce-time distortion, obviously, and who could truly explain those? However it happened, heI' mother had been sent by Picard to join the Enterprise C-the s.h.i.+p from the past. And that s.h.i.+p was attacked by Romulan forces and destroyed, with all but a handful being killed immediately.

Tasha was one of those survivors. After standard interrogation, she had caught the eye of Meldet, who desired her. And, in order to spare her life and the lives of her fellow prisoners, Tasha Yar consented to become Meldet's consort. Sela had been born a year later.

And, for over four years, heard the stories of the Enterprise crew.

Sela had probably loved her mother at one point; she couldn't remember it, but surely love had been there once. However, her adoration of her father was immediate and constant. He was powerful and exciting-tall, with a deep voice that Sela loved. Her father was feared and respected by everyone.

How could her mother not adore this man?

But she didn't. She tolerated him, but she did not love him. And, one night when Sela was four, her mother had come to her in the middle of the night and, warning her to be very quiet, bundled her up and carried her out of their compound.

Only when they were outside did Sela realize that she was being stolen away, away from her beloved father, away from her home, away from everything she held dear. And so she cried out for the guards.

Her father had offered this woman her life. He had given her a home, protection, a daughter. And how did Tasha Yar repay him? With betrayal.

Sela stood with her father and watched as Tasha was executed. Everything in her that was human died with her mother that day. All that was left was a Romulan, who burned with the desire to destroy the crew of the Enterprise, those to whom Tasha had been loyal. Those who had caused her to betray Sela's father.

And now, standing in this damp cave, looking at the astonished faces before her, Sela realized that she had the glorious Picard in her power. She would see if he measured up to all her mother's overblown praise. She doubted it. Before she was through, he would be revealed for the petty, inadequate human that he was. And Sela's lifelong dream would be realized.