The Red King - Michael A. Martin [53]
And Troi knew that the clock was ticking relentlessly toward the time when even the combined power of Donatra’s fleet wouldn’t be enough to save them.
Chapter Nine
STARDATE 57028.3
“Please, come in, Admiral,” Deanna Troi said, looking up at the towering, snow-haired man who stood in the doorway of her office.
“I understand that you requested to see me, Commander?” Admiral Akaar ducked slightly as he entered the room. He remained standing, not quite at full attention, but remained straight enough to be more than a little imposing. “What can I help you with?”
Troi stood from behind her desk and gestured toward the plush turquoise settee near the one wall that was lined with crowded bookcases. “Please, sit, Admiral.”
Akaar regarded her with a silent stare for a moment, then moved to the couch and sat. “Should I assume I am here for a professional visit, Counselor? Are you sensing that I require therapy?”
Troi smiled as she sat down on a nearby matching chaise longue. “Professional, yes. Therapy, no. I wanted to get some more background on the Neyel.”
“Then I suggest you speak to Frane. Or perhaps one of our other Neyel guests.”
“I’ve already done that, Admiral. And the captain and I have both learned quite a bit about the Neyel that way—and the non-Neyel aliens who accompanied Frane—despite the reticence I sensed from several of our guests after they learned about my Betazoid talents.”
“And what new insights have you gleaned?”
“Well, for one, the non-Neyel aliens we brought aboard are all members of races the Neyel Hegemony treats as second-class citizens.”
“Former slaves?” Akaar said.
“Evidently. I’m glad the Neyel seem to have done away with slavery as an institution, but they have a long way to go in terms of establishing equality.”
Akaar offered her a small smile. “No one knows better than I that such things take time, Counselor.” Troi knew that he had to be talking about his homeworld of Capella IV, which would no doubt enter the Federation someday—though probably not during the admiral’s lifetime.
Troi nodded sadly. “I have also learned that the Neyel people’s pride in their self-reliance seems to be quite ingrained. It explains their continued insistence that they don’t need outside help to deal with the current crisis.”
Akaar nodded soberly. “That is not surprising. The earliest generations of Neyel overcame almost unimaginable adversities merely to survive. And those adversities made them understandably distrustful of outsiders.”
“Yes, it’s certainly understandable. But their ‘go it alone’ attitude might be working counter to the survival of their species now.”
“I agree. How may I help?”
“I want to try to get a better sense of who these people are, Admiral, based on what we know about who they were. Fortunately for me, I have two primary sources to consult: Commander Tuvok and yourself.”
Although Akaar’s face remained impassive, Troi sensed a flare-up of intense emotion being restrained when she mentioned the Vulcan tactical officer’s name.
“What can I tell you that was not already in my report, or in Captain Sulu’s?” Akaar asked. “Remember that it has been eighty years since I last set eyes on a Neyel. I do not enjoy admitting that I am growing old, Counselor. Yet here I am, eight decades older, more stubborn, and—some would say—none the wiser.” His smile returned. “What do you wish to know?”
She was tempted to ask Akaar who might have any reason to question his wisdom, now that he and her husband finally seemed to have worked out the differences that had brought them into conflict during the recent diplomatic mission to Romulus. Then she considered the tension she had been sensing lately in both the admiral and his old Excelsior crewmate Tuvok whenever circumstances forced the two men into close proximity; she realized that she had answered her own question.
Putting those ruminations aside, she said, “I’m trying to get a sense of just how much these people and their culture may have changed over the past eight decades.”
“Because of the influence