The Red King - Michael A. Martin [52]
“Aye, sir. Are you expecting combat?”
“I sure as hell hope not, Chief. Riker out.”
“Aye, Captain. Bolaji out.”
Troi saw Will and Tuvok exchange a silent look and equally silent nods. Then the Vulcan tactical officer rose and quietly exited the room. Must be checking on the weapons systems, she thought. Just in case.
Donatra turned to face Will. “I must return to the Valdore to confer with Commander Suran. We will depart when Titan does, and follow a parallel course.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” Will said, nodding. “Your warp signature will make it easier to pass ourselves off as a sensor shadow if your fleet manages to detect our approach.”
Tchev stood, as did Dekri. “We will return to the Dugh,” said the Klingon captain. “As will the rest of our crew. My people will not participate in this…targ hunt.”
“Your vessel is so much wreckage,” Donatra said. “She would only slow us down. You might consider abandoning her.”
Dekri sneered openly at Donatra. “We will not leave her to the tender mercies of whatever scavengers frequent these parts. We will make such repairs as we can before attempting to re-cross the rift.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to post the Dugh near the rift while Titan and Valdore go hunting,” Vale said. “Somebody ought to keep an eye on it close up. And watch for more escape pods from the Neyel ships.”
Tchev nodded to Will. “We will remain vigilant until you return, Captain. Or until we complete sufficient repairs to attempt a return voyage through the rift.”
“All right,” Will said. “Make sure they have a working subspace transmitter, Mr. Vale. And whatever other assistance they might require.” He turned to Donatra again. “If you have no objections, Commander…”
Donatra shrugged. “What is the human expression? ‘It’s their funeral.’If they wish to hasten theirs by attempting to cross the rift unassisted, then it is none of my concern.” Troi sensed eager anticipation of the Klingons’ departure lurking beneath the commander’s calculated display of indifference. Donatra clearly cared not a bit whether or not the Klingons survived their captain’s perhaps reckless decision.
Frane rose as well then, the red chess piece clutched so tightly in his hand that Troi thought it might shatter. His pleading gaze was solely for Will.
“I wish to remain aboard Titan. And I want all the other survivors from the Neyel fleet brought here as well. There are only about twenty of us.”
Will looked toward Donatra, who merely responded with another “suit yourself” shrug. He crossed to the Neyel then and took the large gray hand he offered in a firm clasp.
“My diplomatic officer will issue guest quarters for your people, Mr. Frane,” Will said. Troi made a mental note to confer with Tuvok about security issues as she set up accommodations for Titan’s new guests.
Frane’s stiff features smoothed into a grateful smile. Troi experienced a sensation of something akin to joy, a feeling that made her think of long-overdue family reunions.
Disengaging his hand from the Neyel’s, Will crossed back to Donatra. “It’s going to take several hours to reach the fleet’s current position. It might be a whole day before we actually catch up to them.”
“I’ll make sure we’re on the lookout for Neyel military patrols along the way,” Vale said.
“Good,” Will said, nodding. “According to Excelsior’s reports, they weren’t a very trusting bunch.”
“And after we catch up to the Romulan ships, what then?” Vale wanted to know.
The room fell silent yet again. A cloud of uncertainty permeated the observation lounge. Still, Troi could sense Will’s faith that he would find an appropriate course of action, that a better explanation than “possession” could be found for the behavior of Donatra’s fleet. Titan, the Valdore, and the Dugh were going to need the help of those ships and their crews if they were to stand any real