Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [123]
Come on, Will, he thought. Outside the box. He was uncomfortably aware that Xiomek was still waiting for a response, though he had probably been silent only for a second or two. Finally, he reconsidered a far-fetched idea he had briefly considered earlier, only to allow his own reticence to quash it.
“Colonel Xiomek, I have a proposal to make to you and the Reman people. What if the Federation were to offer you official protectorate status until such time as full-scale power-sharing talks with Romulus can begin? That way, you could—”
Xiomek snorted, interrupting him. “You can barely protect your own crew. How do you propose to protect us ? Humans, it would seem, are too soft and weak to properly protect anything. And need I enumerate to you how many of my people’s current woes were caused by a human? Shinzon had many grand plans, but the benefits they brought to the Reman people were fleeting at best.”
Riker was about to respond, but Xiomek held up his hand. “Captain, I have more important matters to deal with right now than you and your offers that give us nothing. You have the safety of your ship. Be grateful, stay back, and let us forge our destiny without your interference.” Then the screen went blank.
Riker let out his breath, his shoulders sagging as though deflating. He wanted to let out a string of Klingon curses fit to melt the deckplates, but he somehow held his tongue. Facing Akaar and his own bridge crew right now was bad enough without displaying any further weakness. The last thing he wanted to do now was look as ridiculous as Khegh.
And then it hit him. Khegh.
He whirled around, doing his best to suppress a sly smile. “Christine, you have the bridge. Ambassador Spock, would you please accompany me to my ready room? I believe I’m going to need some expert diplomatic assistance.”
He moved toward the door to his ready room, catching Deanna’s eyes for only an instant.
Don’t worry, Imzadi , he thought. I think I’ve finally got this thing figured out.
Chapter Twenty-two
U.S.S. TITAN
The fighting had stopped, at least for the moment.
Troi sensed both incredulity and admiration radiating from the otherwise inscrutable Tuvok. If he doesn’t report to sickbay soon, he’s liable to fall down. But the skies over Romulus still teemed with hostile, Reman-crewed warships, and Tuvok’s assistance during their attack had proved indispensable. The outbreak of hostilities had kept the intelligence operative too busy to submit to a thorough examination in sickbay, though he had found the time to exchange his torn and bloodied Romulan traveling cassock for a standard-issue Starfleet duty uniform.
Tuvok, who was working at Lieutenant Commander Keru’s tactical station, looked toward the center of the bridge, where Troi and Vale sat. “Whatever Captain Riker did, it appears to be working,” Tuvok said. “Although more than half of their vessels remain fully operational—and able to continue fighting—the Remans are withdrawing.”
“Confirmed,” Jaza said, his eyes trained on the science station’s scanners. “The Reman attack fleet has begun falling back toward Remus.”
The ready-room door swished open. Troi turned and watched as Will strode briskly back onto the bridge, followed a moment later by Ambassador Spock, who moved across the bridge with supple grace.
The turbolift doors slid open, and Troi saw Akaar step onto the bridge after a brief absence that the admiral hadn’t seen fit to explain to anyone. Perhaps he had needed some privacy in order to consult his local covert intelligence resources; she assumed he was looking in on the twilight power struggle that doubtless continued on the ground, even as the battle