Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [75]
Finally he spoke. “My friends,” he said, “I ask you to look at us. We, the students of Surak, have done nothing worse than embrace peace and a rational way of life. For this, we are considered enemies of the state.
“Why? Because knowledge—any knowledge—is considered a danger to the Empire. And the most dangerous sort of knowledge is that which diverges from state policy. To possess such knowledge is to be branded a traitor.
“However, I ask you … is there anyone here today who has not had a traitorous thought—a thought in conflict with official laws, proclamations, or histories? Yet you are loyal citizens. Should having such a thought make a traitor out of you?
“Indeed, what can be the future of a government whose laws make its people traitors? What happens to that people when the Empire’s surveillance and enforcement capabilities catch up with its ideology?”
He paused. “I do not wish to alarm you. After all, it is not as if you must fear this government for long. The day is coming soon when the Empire will collapse of its own weight.
“How can I be sure of this?” He fixed on one thoughtful face in the crowd, then another. “How can I speak with such certainty? Because I have studied Surak’s teachings. And he tells us that any system which fears new ideas as this one does is destined to self-destruct.
“New ideas are essential to growth. And growth is essential to the survival of any being or system. Not the sort of growth that the Empire pursues, with conquest after conquest, and world after subjugated world—but the growth of the spirit.
“We who follow Surak have experienced that growth. Perhaps some of you will experience it as well, someday. Perhaps you will see that a system based on cruelty and injustice is simply not—”
“Stop!” cried Tharrus, suddenly on his feet, his voice a surf that seemed to break everywhere at once.
“—logical,” the Vulcan finished.
The governor’s eyes narrowed with fury. He pointed to the Constantharines.
“You have heard the words of treason from the traitors’ own mouths. They do not dispute the charges. They freely admit they are guilty of the worst crime a Romulan can commit—the destruction of our society from within.”
Tharrus gave the spectators a moment to consider his words. Then he turned again to the students of Surak.
“After appropriate deliberation, this tribunal finds you guilty of the crimes of which you have been accused. The penalty is public execution.”
Pausing dramatically, the governor waited for a response from the crowd—the sort of approval that greeted him earlier in the proceedings.
But this time, silence was his only answer. And in that silence, Spock believed he saw the eventual end of the Romulan Empire.
Scotty poked his head around a corner, aimed, and fired. His borrowed disruptor turned the corridor blue with its gleam as it slammed into yet another Romulan, sending the man sprawling.
He took just a moment to make certain the guard was unconscious, like the two Scott had dispatched before him. Then, satisfied that they were in no immediate danger, he gestured for his companions to follow him.
“Nice shooting,” Riker commented,
“I used to be a wee bit better,” the older man told him.
As they threaded their way among the three unconscious Romulans, the Enterprise officers all stooped to pick up the guards’ hand weapons. Not that it would be necessary, if all went according to plan, Scotty reflected—but then, what plan had ever gone forward without a hitch?
Fortunately, this one was very near to reaching fruition. At the end of the corridor, Scotty made a skidding right—and saw the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
Except in this case, the tunnel was a mercifully short hallway and the light was actually a door. A sign just over it, laid out clearly in Romulan characters, designated the room beyond as a transporter chamber.
Scotty was gladder than ever that foreign-language studies were part of the captain’s exam. At least, in his day.