The Red King - Michael A. Martin [93]
His own rising anger answered the question for him. How dare they refuse to help save themselves? Their race? His blood burned. We may be sacrificing everything by trying to save them, and yet they refuse to help themselves.
He closed his eyes, made a decision, then opened them again and stalked toward the turbolift.
Once inside, he barked an order into his combadge. “Computer, locate Chief Axel Bolaji.” He hated taking the new father on a mission that would place him directly in harm’s way. But until Titan returned home, everyone was in danger.
And right now, he really needed a good pilot.
VANGUARD
Frane slumped exhausted against the wall of a public gallery. The gentle upward curvature of the floor, which conformed to the overall cylindrical shape of the asteroid in which Holy Vangar had been built, wasn’t at all apparent at the moment. This might have been because of the growing, surprisingly orderly crowds of refugees. Or it could have been a result of his own fatigue. At the moment, he neither knew nor cared.
What he did know was that it had been around six hours since he had taken any nourishment, and his energy level was declining quickly. And yet he wondered how he could stop to replenish himself when so much depended on him.
Hundreds of thousands of Neyel and native Oghen refugees had now been ferried up to Holy Vangar, and he had worked tirelessly, right alongside Harn and his men, in greeting and feeding the newcomers, organizing and prioritizing their many needs, and even enlisting the help of those who weren’t too badly shocked or injured to assist in those same efforts. Frane hadn’t taken much time as yet to consider the irony of the situation, though he was certainly aware of it; he was now actively working against the cause he had supported for so much of his young life, the cause of the Sleeper and the self-flagellating Seekers After Penance.
After all, how could a just god allow the wholesale destruction that was happening now? He hadn’t considered the ramifications of the punishment he had formerly wished upon his own people.
Until now. I was naïve, he told himself. The Sleeper was unworthy of both his worship and his respect if it could make no exceptions for those who were anrorli, innocent of the sin of slavery.
Even as his faith in his dread god crashed and burned around him, Frane knew that his faith in others was being restored. The humans from Titan and the countless Other Races of Men who also crewed that vessel were giving everything they had, risking their lives to save the Neyel and the natives alike. Even the Romulans, who had seemed so devious and treacherous when he had first encountered them, were not only assisting, but were providing most of the power required to make the evacuation of the Coreworld a success.
He felt his legs collapse beneath him, and spots began to appear across his vision.
A human appeared, a slender woman with dark hair and dusky features. He recognized her from the medical chambers aboard Titan. But whatever it was that she was saying was lost in the buzzing that had suddenly filled his ears.
She pointed one of her devices at him, her eyes alternately looking at him and the readout on the device. Then she removed another object from the bag that was slung over one of her shoulders. She pressed it up against his neck, and he felt a tiny sting.
Almost immediately, his vision began to clear and his hearing began to return to normal. He looked up at the woman, and into her large brown eyes.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
Frane nodded. “What happened?”
“Looks like your blood sugar crashed, and all this excitement didn’t help,” the woman said. “I gave you some glucose and tri-ox. That should keep you going for a while, but I’d suggest you get some food into you soon.”
She reached down to pull him up. “I’m Nurse Ogawa, by the way.”
Frane allowed her to help pull him back to a standing position, using his tail as leverage to help steady himself. “Yes, I remember seeing