Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [82]
Hello, again, Troi thought, forcing down a shudder of foreboding as she looked around the spacious room. Thanks to her still-green memories of Shinzon—and his viceroy Vkruk—she couldn’t help but feel foreboding in this place that Shinzon had so recently occupied.
Yet no matter how uncomfortable this chamber made her feel, she knew this was no time to allow herself to become distracted.
She noticed then that both Will and Admiral Akaar were watching her, their emotional auras blazing brightly with concern for her even though their faces remained impassive. The only other member of the four-person away team who wasn’t studying her was Security Chief Keru, who had eyes only for the large empty chamber in which they had materialized. Though Keru hadn’t produced a weapon—Will and the admiral had agreed that it wouldn’t be wise to do anything to make the Romulans any more nervous than they already were—he was clearly ready for anything.
She could see that he had good reason. The dark wood and stone walls, though resplendent with ornate red tapestries and elegant green statues of predatory birds set into high sconces, cast shadows that could have hidden a dozen snipers.
Will stepped to Troi’s side, straightening his white dress-uniform jacket as he moved. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, a bit more tartly than she had intended. She was sensing a great deal of apprehension and confusion coming from beyond the room from just about every direction, almost like a pall of smoke rising above a fire. She found the emotions difficult to sort out, and had to focus her attention very tightly to prevent them from getting in the way of the business at hand. The confused intensity that she sensed reminded her that the city of Ki Baratan had been experiencing social upheavals of various kinds ever since Shinzon had killed the Senate.
“Where are the Romulans?” Will asked, looking around the empty room.
As if cued by the captain’s words, a quartet of hard-faced, uniformed uhlans appeared, each soldier entering the chamber from a different cardinal direction. The disruptor pistols in their hands told everyone that they didn’t share Keru’s reticence about openly brandishing weaponry.
“You will accompany us directly to the Senate Chamber,” said one of the uhlans before turning on his heel and leading the way into and through a branching corridor.
Moments later, the group was standing beneath a gigantic silver sculpture fashioned in the shape of a hawklike avian that loomed over the curved tiers of desks and chairs where the late Romulan Senate had done its deliberations for centuries. Surrounded by blue pillars and abstract, rust-colored wall hangings, the room’s expansive stone floor was dominated by a circular mosaic of smooth marble, half blue and half green, and inlaid with lines and circlets of gold. A wavy ribbon of turquoise bisected the mosaic, at once separating and joining the two halves together. Golden icons faced one another across the length of the divide, arrayed like chess pieces.
On the green side, far off-center and larger than every other element on the mosaic, was the stylized image of a star and two nearby planets.
To Troi, the symbolism was both obvious and shocking…and perhaps indicative of a disturbing cultural mindset. Here, at the very heart of their power, was the Romulan worldview: an image not of the Empire entire, with Romulus at its center, but rather, a symbol of enmity, of its centuries-old antagonism with its old foe, the Federation.
And it dominated the very floor of the Senate Chamber.
Is this how they see themselves? Troi wondered. Always on the verge of war with us? Or does the central placement of the Neutral Zone speak more to a feeling