Unification - Jeri Taylor [40]
The Romulans made no such effort. Their passions raged unchecked. They were violent, turbulent, vicious, and cruel. They channeled their native intelligence into warfare and conquest, their productivity into armament and weapons—instruments of death.
Centuries had passed since the original separation. Was it possible, after all that time, that the two nations could find a rebirth in unification? Picard’s mind scrambled to understand the nuances of this monumental plan. “What is this ‘first step’ that Pardek suggests?” “There is a new proconsul of the Romulan Senate, Neral. He is young and idealistic. He has promised many reforms. Pardek believes he may be receptive to discussing reunification.”
Picard digested this. “Why would you not bring something this important to the attention of your people—or the Federation?”
He could see Spock’s mind reeling backwards—one hundred thirty years of memories, how could one contain them all?—and light on a painful incident. “A personal decision, Captain. Perhaps you are aware that I played a small role in the first overture to peace with the Klingons…”
“History is aware of the role you played, Ambassador.”
“Not entirely. It was I who asked Kirk to lead that peace mission. And I who had to accept the responsibility for the consequences to him and his crew.” Spock’s dark eyes held his for a brief moment. “Quite simply, I am unwilling to risk anyone’s life but my own on this occasion. I would ask you to respect my wishes and leave.”
Picard had to suppress a smile. “Ambassador, your logic escapes me. If I didn’t know better, I would say your judgment had been influenced by emotion.”
There was a new timbre to Spock’s voice as he replied. “You speak as my father would if he were here, Picard.”
Hearing the bite to that speech, Picard retorted in kind. “I speak as a Starfleet officer. And I cannot ignore the risks to you—” “I was involved with ‘cowboy diplomacy,’ as you describe it, Captain, long before you were born,” Spock came back. They were polarizing again.
“Nevertheless, sir, I am not prepared to leave until your affairs are completed.”
Spock hurled him a look of withering disdain. “In your own way, you are as stubborn as another captain of the Enterprise I once knew.”
Picard repressed the smile. “Then, sir,” he stated calmly, “I am in good company.”
Spock stared at him for what felt like an hour and was probably only seconds. Finally, he nodded— which Picard was only too glad to take as acquiescence.
Chapter Twelve
CAPTAIN K’VADA’S SHOULDER was not healing well. At night he suffered awfully and could not find any position in which the lancing pains did not interrupt his sleep. Each time he adjusted his body his shoulder felt as though a fiery brand were being jabbed into it, and he had to force himself not to cry out.
He would mutter vile oaths toward K’kam, willing the most ghastly catastrophies to befall her for having caused him this grief. When he saw her again he would punish her himself, and he briefly derived some satisfaction from a vision of K’kam, her strong, sinewy body glistening with sweat, begging him for mercy.
Days brought some relief from the pain, which seemed to ease with activity, but lack of sleep made him irritable, and his crew was beginning to dread his appearance on the bridge. He had already ordered disciplines for several and had had another locked in chains for several days without food or water. He had finally relented when he visited the wretch and found him near unconsciousness from thirst, his lips cracked and bleeding, but who refused nonetheless to beg for mercy. He glared at K’Vada with burning eyes, proudly silent, and K’Vada was moved by his courage.
Now K’Vada sat in his command chair, shoulder throbbing with each beat of his heart, and