Unification - Jeri Taylor [43]
He stopped as he felt the arrival of the matron: he had not seen her here before and was unwilling to take the chance that even a whispered conversation might he overheard. The woman sat before them bowls of gletten, eyed the flower, looked hard at them, and then moved off.
“The spread of these groups has become a serious concern to the Romulan leadership,” Spock then continued.
“Serious enough for the leaders to suddenly embrace a Vulcan peace initiative? I have a difficult time accepting that.”
In that sentence, Spock heard the intransigence and stubbornness that disturbed him. He admired the fact that this captain had courage; he would never be intimidated into altering his position. But could he not embrace the possibility of change? Was he thoroughly inflexible?
“I sense you have a closed mind, Captain,” he retored. “Closed minds have kept these two worlds apart for centuries.”
He saw Picard give him a look that suggested puzzlement. Perhaps he had spoken a bit sharply. Spock continued, determined to win his support. “In the Federation, we have learned from experience to view the Romulans with distrust. We can either choose to live with that enmity or seek an opportunity to change it.” He paused and looked at Picard with his most penetrating gaze. “I choose the latter.”
Picard seemed unaffected by the stare. “I will be the first to cheer when the Neutral Zone is abolished, sir. 1 only wonder if this movement is strong enough to reshape the entire Romulan political landscape.”
Again, it was a familiar tone that Spock heard from this man. Surprising that it did something to his stomach that was vexatious.
His eyes shifted and fell on the flower in the glass, already wilted and gasping in the Romulan heat. “One can begin to reshape the landscape with a single flower, Captain.”
He didn’t look at Picard to see what response that observation had produced, because he had noticed D’Tan approaching, his wiry child’s body full of angles and joints. He was carrying something.
“Jolan tru, Mr. Spock,” he said. D’Tan always spoke as though he were half out of breath, probably because he never walked when he could run. “Look what I’ve brought you.”
“This is my friend D’Tan,” Spock told Picard. “He is very curious about Vulcan.”
“Hello, D’Tan.” Picard’s voice was friendly, if somewhat cautious. Spock sensed a man who, though warmhearted, was not comfortable with children.
D’Tan handed Spock a book and he turned it in his hands. It was worn, with a cover made of wood that had been carved by hand, and pages that were smudged and brittle. “It is very old,” ventured Spock. “Where did you get this?”
“They read from it at the meetings. It tells the story of the Vulcan separation—”
A new voice knifed into the conversation, startling them all. “You should not bring that out here, D’Tan. You’ve been told many times.”
They turned to see Pardek approaching, his benign face a ruddy red from the heat. D’Tan looked sheepish and took possession of the book once more. “I just wanted to show it to Mr. Spock,” he said lamely.
Pardek’s smile was not threatening. “Off with you. We will see you later tonight.” D’Tan’s eyes sought Spock’s, as though to feed from him once more before he left. “Will you tell us more stories about Vulcan?” he asked.
“Yes,” answered Spock, and enjoyed the smile that D’Tan gave him in return. Then the boy sprinted off, hurling back over his shoulder as he did, “Jolan tru.”
Spock saw Pardek casting his practiced eye around the denizens of the food center and lighting on the grim-faced old woman who had brought their gletten. “Perhaps this is not such a good place to talk,” he murmured,