Double Helix 03_ Red Sector - Diane Carey [30]
“And the government is holding you here? Sounds like they wanted the riots to spark. Why else would they keep you here?”
With a nod, Zevon congratulated him. “Very possibly. This is not a usual holding area for political prisoners. They’re usually held in the mountains.” “So we’re hostages?”
“Certainly we carry some incendiary value for leverage” Zevon contemplated, “but neither the Empire nor the Federation can cavalierly enter a sector declared red by any major power. That is one of the few agreements between the Federation, the Empire, the Klingons, Orions, Centaurans, and others that has in fact stood the test of time and trouble. Compromise of that is considered irremediable. Relations, friendly or strained, would change instantly. The Pojjana may hope to tempt all that, but…” The young Romulan shook his head, a gesture of clear understanding of the situation. “You and I… we are on our own here for some time, I should think.”
“Alone,” Stiles echoed, “on a planet full of people who hate everybody who isn’t them.”
Shift the legs again. He forced himself to adjust. His shoulders seemed like water now. In his hand the metal rod was like ice and suddenly heavy. His elbow quivered as he tried to continue holding the rod up. “You’re a captain?” he asked, fighting for concentration. “Centurion. I have… I had command of a science vessel. My command was a royal favor. It’s common to give lower royalty command of royal barges. I thought myself very lucky not to be carting one of my own relatives about in a barge. I always remained aware that I hadn’t earned command. I ceded most ship responsibility to my subcommander. The crew understood… they never spoke ill of me. What I earned was status as a fully qualified astrophysicist. I was supervising the unit conducting quantum-warp experiments that set up a sympathetic subspace vibration of free-floating gravitons. Now the Constrictor breaks on the shores of the Pojjan planet. And no one will ever stop it.”
Zevon dropped his gaze to the messy excuse for a floor. He didn’t look up anymore.
“I’m something of an embarrassment to my family,” he went on, so quietly that Stiles could barely hear him. “I’m not…” “A ‘leader of men’ Stiles supplied.
As odd as it now seemed to see someone who looked like Zevon return a smile, the Romulan did in fact grin mildly. “Just to prove it, if you said that to any of my uncles or brothers, they would kill you just to prove differently”
Returning the grin, Stiles chuckled. “Call my mother a sow, but don’t tell me I’m no leader of men?” “Something like that.” As Stiles felt his small troubles shrink to inconsequence, he gazed at Zevon and absorbed what he had heard. A hundred questions-none good-crackled in his mind.
“Well, here we are then,” Stiles groaned. “A senior duty ensign who finagled his way into command of a landing party because of a family connection with Ambassador Spock. Big me, I thought I could distinguish myself. You know what I see when I look up the ladder? Captain Stiles, Lieutenant Stiles, Lieutenant Commander Stiles, heroes of the Romulan wars, officers on starship service… and little Ensign Stiles, who died in the pit after botching a simple evac.” He let his head drop back and gazed up, far up, to the patch of dim light at the top of the hole. “I wish I were Ensign Anybody Else.”
“Surrounded by giants,” Zevon offered. “No wonder you could barely see.”
Registering only slightly the favor just done him, Stiles clung instead to the sorrow and shame. “So here I am,” he trudged on, “trapped in a sinkhole with a Romulan duke who doesn’t want the command he’s got, and a collapsed building’s about to come down on us. Aren’t we pathetic? If you had any emotion, you’d probably cry.”
Sharply Zevon kicked at a plank that lay between them, sending it clacking into another position. His eyes hardened. “I am not Vulcan” he snapped, and instantly looked away again.
The reaction was so sincere that Stiles almost reached out physically to yank back his words. “Sorry,” he offered.