Spock gestured toward Colonel Xiomek. “The Remans have not moved against the Empire, although I can assure you they have the capability of doing so. Were that to occur, the fires of violence that still burn within the Romulan heart might be stoked beyond anyone’s ability to bank them again.”
And what would become of your life’s work then?Tuvok thought, nodding. “I see,” he said aloud.
“I am attempting to show the Reman leadership the need to curb their people’s desire for revenge, and to seek other methods of redress and social change,” Spock continued. “They may even have a better affinity for pure logic than that of our Romulan cousins—at least, those who reject out of hand the path of Unification.”
Though his respect for Spock’s accomplishments and expertise remained vast, Tuvok could not deny his growing sensation of foreboding. “You cannot be unaware of the dangers inherent in trying to engineer even a nonviolent revolution,” Tuvok said, turning the cool communicator over and over in his left hand. “If you were to cause a civil war here, however inadvertently, your name would be—”
“Reviled forever,” Spock said brusquely, interrupting. “My reputation matters little when placed in the balance against the cause of Vulcan-Romulan Unification.”
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,Tuvok thought, recalling an aphorism from Surak’s Analects.“But are you really willing to risk engendering further violence—merely to advance the uncertain end of Unification?”
Spock paused, staring pensively off into the darkness. He seemed about to answer when Tuvok noticed a rippling shimmer begin to gather in the air around the aging diplomat. A millisecond later, he saw it appear around himself as well, and felt the familiar, momentarily vertiginous tug of a transporter beam.
The rocky cavern walls and shocked faces of the Remans and Unificationist Romulans were replaced by the smooth and comparatively sterile interior of a Starfleet shuttlecraft. Tuvok found himself standing on a narrow transporter pad, alongside Spock, whose surprise was being expressed entirely through his right eyebrow. Turning, Tuvok then saw a bearded Trill who was clad in a battered black utilitarian suit, no doubt designed for stealth operations. He wasn’t sure whether or not he had seen the man before. Commander Keru?
The Trill favored Tuvok with a grim smile as he swiped his hand downward over the transporter controls on the console beside him.
As he dematerialized yet again, Tuvok couldn’t help but wonder what effect Spock’s unplanned departure from the caverns beneath Romulus would have on his supporters.
Chapter Nineteen
U.S.S. TITAN
The shimmering curtain of light released him, and Tuvok found himself standing beside a moderately surprised-looking Spock on a much wider Federation transporter stage than the one the shuttlecraft had carried. He presumed that they were now aboard the very starship from which the shuttlecraft had originated.
“Lieutenant Radowski to bridge,” said the young male human Starfleet officer who stood behind the transporter room’s sleek control console.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,”replied the resonant, businesslike voice that issued from the junior officer’s combadge.
“They’re both on board, Captain.”
“Good work. I’m on my way.”
The next moment, the doors whisked open to admit a pair of armed personnel who were obviously security guards. Seeing their hard stares, Tuvok remained where he was on the transporter stage. He was mildly surprised to see Spock step off the stage and onto the deck.
“Please remain where you are, sir,” one of the guards said.
Spock obediently stopped, though his craggy features betrayed determination rather than fear.
Less than a minute later, a tall, bearded Starfleet officer followed the armed personnel into the chamber, accompanied by a petite, dark-haired humanoid woman. Tuvok recognized them both immediately. So, too, apparently, did Spock.
“Captain Riker,” Spock said. “Commander Troi.”
“Ambassador Spock,” Riker replied, nodding to the security guards. They both remained attentive, though their demeanor relaxed from vigilant suspicion to an obvious dawning awareness of the ambassador’s identity.
Riker and Troi turned toward Tuvok, who decided that the ideal moment to introduce himself had arrived. “Commander Tuvok, currently on detached duty with Starfleet Intelligence. Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Tuvok allowed himself to be pleased by his discovery that he had not been so weakened by his prison ordeal as to have entirely forgotten Starfleet protocols.
“Granted,” Riker said. “Welcome aboard Titan.”
Tuvok replied by moving down from the stage to stand beside Spock. Tuvok realized only then that the ambassador had pointedly notasked anyone’s permission before he had stepped down onto the deck.
“I must confess to some surprise at your presence here, Captain,” Spock said, fixing his gaze squarely upon Riker. “Your arrival has greatly complicated my work on Romulus. I must return to the Remans quickly if I am to finish dissuading them from their war plans.”
“You’re welcome,” Riker said with an ironic shake of his head. “Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador, but I was under the impression that we just rescuedyou.”
“ ‘Rescue’ from the company of an ally and negotiating partner is hardly necessary, Captain,” Spock said dryly.
Mention of the word “rescue” had a bracing effect on Tuvok’s fatigued mind. “Captain, regarding Mekrikuk—the Reman who was helping me escape when your rescue team reached me—do you know if he managed to escape as well?”
Riker nodded. “He’s suffered some pretty serious injuries. My chief of security has already beamed him directly to our sickbay, along with our shuttle pilot and one of our security officers. But my chief medical officer is confident that they’ll both pull through.”
“I am gratified to hear that, Captain. I would almost certainly have died in that prison if not for Mekrikuk.”
“I see. Dr. Ree will do everything he can.” The captain looked Tuvok up and down, obviously taking in his distressed, bloodied clothing. Tuvok supposed that Riker was also inventorying his many visible scrapes, cuts, and bruises—to say nothing of the forehead surgery he had obviously undergone in order to pass unnoticed among the Romulans. “I want you to report to sickbay, too, Commander Tuvok.”
Though he was inclined to argue that his injuries weren’t that severe, Tuvok merely nodded silently.
The transporter room door slid open once again. Yet another Starfleet officer entered the room, ducking because the doorway had not been designed to accommodate his atypical height. Although Tuvok had not seen the silver-haired Capellan in decades, he recognized him immediately—and felt a surprising rush of pleasure at his presence, in spite of what had passed between them some thirty years ago. Silently cursing the extent to which his lengthy prison ordeal had obviously compromised his emotional control, Tuvok carefully schooled his features into an unreadable mask.
“Admiral,” Tuvok said after glancing at the pips on the other man’s collar. When had Akaar been promoted to fleetadmiral? “You are looking well.”
A grin slowly spread across Akaar’s lined face. “But you have certainly looked better, my old friend. I am pleased to see you, Tuvok. I had begun to fear that the Empire’s current upheavals had proved to be your undoing.”