Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [115]
Zevon grasped a network of root filaments and ripped them from up to down. “I do not wish to leave, Eric! Not for the sake of the royal family or the empire or the Federation. I also do not wish to be exposed. Orsova provides me with cover and lets me work. Every day I can make up a little of what I have done. Do you know I am virtually the only alien this planet trusts?”
Stiles paused as his uniform shirt caught on a thorn and he twisted to disengage it. “Just because you were part of what started all this, you don’t owe them your whole life. They can do a few things on their own, can’t they? You’ve become way too custodial about these people. You even dress like a Pojjana!”
Zevon whirled and stopped dead in front of him, enraged and insulted. “I am Pojjana!”
They stood in a sluice of muck. Up ‘ahead, Spock stopped and waited, his expression grim; curious. “And elephants have four knees” Stiles chided. “So what?” A flurry of anger rose in Zevon’s face. “You should know better than anyone! Your own people would never have come for you if not for that elderly physician with so many tricks. Have you forgotten? Since coming here my eyes have been opened. I was stifled in the imperial system. Here, unfettered, unrestricted, with Orsova to field the-“
“I know, I know, you’ve proven yourself brilliant;’ Stiles confirmed. “You’ve kept a lot of people alive. I always knew you could. Even the Federation doesn’t have that beam you put on us. If you could be that brilliant and save that many lives and you still have to hide behind Orsova because these idiots are so xenophobic that they won’t accept help from an alien, then to hell with ‘em. You’ve done enough. Somebody else needs you more now.”
“The royal family? All these years I knew you were not the one who failed. I knew they had simply decided not to bother getting me out. Did you think I had no comprehension of my own blood ties? I have worse than apathy for the Romulans, and their way, and their crown. I have hatred for them. Some day, either the Federation or the Bal Quonott or the Romulans will come and overran the Pojjana, and when that happens I am determined that my people, these people, will be able to defend themselves, hold their own, and even prevail. I have no prime directive. I am free to help anyone I want to help.”
Fired by the depth of Zevon’s conviction, Stiles raised the utility phaser. “I won’t leave you here a second time. Just turn around and walk. I swear to God I’ll stun you.”
Zevon did move forward after the ambassador, but continued his point with ferocity. “Even without space infrastructure, we have learned to build and operate survival equipment and refined the barometer so that we not only have warning, but can also predict to some degree the intensity of the waves. My equipment requires almost constant attention. If I leave and intensity is misread, millions could die. Does that mean nothing to you? Have you changed so much?” “Keep walking. I don’t want to hear any more.”
He kept it that way. With his manner and his expression he cut off any further discussion, as they made way through the swamp and finally broke out into the open valley beyond. Now they couldn’t see the city at all, nor hear the alarms anymore, only hear the occasional drone of a distant search plane. So far, so good.
When Stiles broke out of the ferns and growth, freeing his leg from the last of the grasping roots, Zevon and Spock were already