Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [120]
“What is this man doing on the bridge?” Batanides said sternly. Picard gathered that she thought that a man whose people had just voluntarily entered the Romulan Star Empire ought not to have the run of the Federation’s flagship. He had to concede that she had a point.
“I understand your apprehension, Admiral,” Troi said in placating tones. “But I can assure you that Grelun poses no threat to us now.”
“Nor have I been unsupervised,” the Chiarosan said, baring his razor teeth in a vaguely disquieting smile. Picard found Grelun’s presence and bearing impressive, to say nothing of his immense size. He probably could have brushed the bridge’s vaulted ceiling with his fingertips had he extended his arms fully above his head.
Picard turned toward Riker. “Have the Chiarosan ships contacted us yet, Number One?”
“No, sir. But I don’t think it’s any mystery why they’re here.”
Ruardh wants Grelun, and very badly, Picard thought. He reflected uncomfortably on Grelun’s petition for political asylum, a request which he was bound morally, ethically, and legally to honor. Even if First Protector Ruardh-or her new Romulan masters-decided to play rough.
“Let’s have a look at them, Mr. Daniels,” Picard said, seating himself in his command chair. Three rather beat-up looking Chiarosan spacecraft, each of them about the size of a Starfleet runabout, appeared on the viewer. They were approaching the Enterprise at a leisurely pace, the nearest of them now lying some thirty thousand kilometers off the starship’s port bow.
“Give me a tactical appraisal, Number One.”
“Sensors show nothing but simple disruptors and low-powered deflector shields,” Riker said as he took the seat to Picard’s right. “They wouldn’t stand a chance against us in a real firefight.”
“They might not have to,” Picard said soberly. “Especially if they’re being backed up by a cloaked warbird.”
“Hail them, Mr. Daniels,” said Riker. A moment later, the image of the approaching Chiarosan ships was replaced by a pair of dour faces. One belonged to a Chiarosan female, whom Picard immediately recognized as Senator Curince. He had last seen her two days ago, when First Protector Ruardh had made her initial demand that Grelun be remanded to government custody. The other visage belonged to a young and supremely confident-looking Romulan. His gray uniform and the insignia on its collar testified that he held the rank of centurion.
Why bother keeping the Romulan diplomatic corps around when the military can simply take over? Picard thought, struggling to keep his expression carefully neutral. To Curince, he said, “It would seem that the balance of power has shifted somewhat today, Madame Senator.”
She bared her teeth, perhaps in a smile, or perhaps not. “I shall not play games with you, Picard,” she said, purring the words as if she were some great predatory cat. “Grelun must come with us.”
“He has asked for political asylum,” Picard said. “And until and unless he withdraws that request, he will have our protection. I cannot allow First Protector Ruardh to execute him.”
The Romulan interposed himself into the conversation. “Ruardh undoubtedly would have him executed. However, Ruardh no longer enjoys the autonomy she once did.”
Picard wasn’t the least bit sorry to hear that. He smiled with grim amusement.
Curince addressed Grelun directly. “Where would you go if you could go anywhere you willed, Grelun? What would you do?”
Grelun’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I would go back among my people,” he said after a deliberate pause. “I would gather the Army of Light about me and strike like an avenging hammer at those who murder our children.”
“In other words,” the Romulan said, “you would bring order to what is now in terrible disarray.