The Red King - Michael A. Martin [128]
Frane continued staring at the book in wonder, and Troi sensed that he was all but overwhelmed by an emotion very akin to reverence.
Akaar rose from the sofa and approached Will, then beckoned Troi and Tuvok to approach as well. Lost in thought, Frane did not appear to have noticed.
“I have spoken with Dr. Cethente,” Akaar said in hushed tones.
“So have I,” Will said, nodding. “He says we can’t know for certain whether or not we really saved Neyel space from nonexistence.”
Akaar nodded, then trained his hard, dark gaze squarely upon Troi. “The question is: Should we tell Mr. Frane?”
“There’s no need, Admiral,” Frane said, still gazing in wonder at the book. He played absently with the elaborate bracelet on his wrist. Recalling what Will had told her of the bracelet’s significance to Frane and his ancestors, she completely understood his fascination with Thaddius Riker’s diary.
The Neyel turned to face them. “Auld Aerth existed as nothing more than a legend for centuries, as far as we Neyel were concerned. It was unreachable, unknowable, except in the realm of fables and stories.
“Oghen has been destroyed, and perhaps other key worlds of the Neyel Hegemony have died with it. Maybe all the Neyel places are gone. That is reality, and we must face that. We Neyel have been thoroughly punished for our past sins. Just how thoroughly is now a matter perhaps best left to fable and legend.
“But we endure. Enough of us, at least, to rebuild and create something worthier than fear and empire and conquest. And perhaps that is reality enough.”
Troi sensed at once that everyone present agreed completely with Frane’s sentiments. She could only hope that a majority of the people inside Vanguard were capable of seeing the universe the same way he did.
That, she thought, would be victory enough.
Chapter Twenty-one
U.S.S. TITAN, STARDATE 57053.2
“It is good to see you, my husband,” T’Pel said from the small monitor screen before Tuvok. “At last.”
Seated behind the desk in his quarters—which was illuminated at the moment only by a pair of meditation candles, the light of the monitor screen, and the distant, glittering pinpoints visible through the window—Tuvok recognized the almost chiding tone that underlay his wife’s otherwise calmly delivered words.
“I regret that I have not taken the opportunity to contact you before now,” he said evenly. Even as he said the words, he found them inadequate; he silently reprimanded himself for not making more of an effort to call home sometime between his rescue from Vikr’l Prison and Titan’s accidental detour to the Small Magellanic Cloud.
“I quite understand, my husband. My sources inside Starfleet informed me of your extended captivity on Romulus weeks ago. News of your subsequent…disappearance arrived only yesterday.”
Tuvok couldn’t help but wonder if Akaar had been among T’Pel’s Starfleet “sources.”
“I am gratified that your most recent absence was not nearly so protracted as the last one,” she said.
“As am I, my wife,” he said. Imprisonment and yet another accidental voyage to a remote region of space had made him more conscious than ever before of the brevity and fragility of life. “And I wish to take steps to ensure that we never again have to endure such a prolonged separation.”
“Have you decided to leave Starfleet again?” she asked, regarding him expectantly.
He told her his idea.
Ranul Keru stared into the mirror, then winced as he touched the scar on his chest. The spanner had stabbed deeply into him; according to Dr. Ree, his injuries would have killed him instantly had his internal organs been arranged precisely identically to those of a human. Keru considered himself extraordinarily lucky that Titan’s first voyage had only left him with a nasty scar, three missing days because of his coma, and some very bittersweet memories.
Although Dr. Ree had offered to fix the scar tissue,