The Red King - Michael A. Martin [127]
Tuvok sat first. Moving with surprising grace, the big Capellan took a seat beside the Vulcan. This was the first time Troi had seen them both together since the evacuation of Oghen had begun. Though neither of them were displaying any more overt emotion than usual, Troi noticed immediately that something fundamental had changed between these two very reserved men. Have they finally put aside their differences, whatever they were, after all these years?
“I have been in touch with Starfleet Command, Captain,” Akaar said. “A contingent of SCE vessels will rendezvous with Titan and Vanguard at the Federation side of the Neutral Zone. The Federation Council has granted Donatra’s fleet permission to tow Vanguard that far. From there, Vanguard will be towed back to the Sol system, where I will confer with Starfleet Command and the Federation Council on the problem of finding the Neyel and the other species aboard Vanguard a permanent home.”
“I hope we have the option of visiting Auld Aerth itself,” said Frane, who had remained standing. “If not settling there.”
Auld Aerth. In Troi’s perception, the young Neyel’s almost worshipful emotional state, coupled with his strange pronunciation of the name of Earth, conferred an almost mythic status on her father’s homeworld. Of course, to Frane—to all the Neyel refugees in the O’Neill habitat—Earth is mythic. A bedtime story told to children. The stuff of legend.
“Lieutenant Pazlar is already searching the stellar cartographic records for a suitable permanent home for the refugees aboard Vanguard,” Tuvok said.
Akaar nodded. “The search could take some time, however. Vanguard may serve indefinitely as a short-term home for the refugees while the council debates the matter, consults with the Neyel leadership, and takes its final decision.”
“Mr. Frane has made an intriguing suggestion,” Tuvok said. “At his request, Lieutenant Pazlar has widened her planet search to include K- and L-Class worlds that might be amenable to reasonably achievable terraforming efforts.”
Will nodded, and Troi saw at once that he grasped Frane’s reasoning even as she did. “To encourage the Neyel refugees to work cooperatively with their former slaves, rather than falling back into their old habits of exploiting them.”
“Where in the Sol system does Starfleet Command intend to relocate Vanguard in the meantime?” Troi asked.
“Perhaps the asteroid colony can be placed in high Earth orbit in its original L-5 position,” Akaar said. “The Neyel are humans, after all. Or it could be set in orbit around one of the Jovian or Saturnian moons.”
Frane smiled broadly, though he still seemed unaccustomed to such facial gestures. “Saturn’s moons intrigue me most, I think. Titan, for example, sounds like a nice place to get comfortable for a while.”
Will smiled at that, and turned back to Akaar. “Speaking of Titan, Admiral,” Will said. “When can we resume our original mission to explore the Gum Nebula?”
“Very soon, after you have stopped at Starbase 185 for repairs, and an inspection by Admiral de la Fuega. I caution you, Captain: she is tough.”
Will’s eyes widened in mock surprise. “Coming from you, Admiral, that’s saying quite a bit.” The huge Capellan responded with the subtlest of smiles.
Troi noticed then that Frane, his tail absently switching back and forth behind him, was looking with evident curiosity at the top of Will’s desk. “What’s this?” he said, pointing at the dog-eared book that lay open there.
“It’s a journal, written by one of my ancestors,” Will said, crossing back to his desk. “He was a soldier, and a survivor. I’ve carried his life story with me on every deep space assignment I’ve drawn since I graduated from Starfleet Academy. It has always served to remind me that no matter how far away from my homeworld I traveled, I had a commitment to survive.”
Will closed the book carefully and carried it back to a broad wooden bookcase beneath a gold trombone and a bizarrely convoluted Pelagian wind instrument. He set the book