Unification - Jeri Taylor [51]
Riker stared at her. This was it, the connection he’d been looking for. The sensation of victory welled up in him and he laid into the keys, pulling the music up from some place deep within. At some point he realized Amarie’s four hands had joined his, and they continued to make sweet six-handed blues for a long time.
Chapter Fourteen
SPOCK SAT WITH Pardek in the outer chamber of Proconsul Neral’s suite of offices. They had climbed through the grandiose chambers of the nearly kilometer-high governmental edifice, the Irnilt, and Spock had noted the statelines of the architecture, the clean elegance of the design. The rooms were vaulted and spacious, and conveyed an impression of urbanitY and power. The grandeur of the building was in marked contrast to the rough streets of the city, the fetid passageways where people lived in abject desola-tion. The contrast was fascinating.
He had become aware, as they made their way through the building, that Pardek was a man whose time of power was waning. Pardek smiled and called out to everyone they met, and the replies were always gracious. But he was certain that Pardek was the needy part of the equation; those who possessed power did not need to seek so blatantly the recogni-tion of others. That did not concern Spock. Pardek’s value was to initiate the meeting for which they had climbed the imposing black marble stairs of the Irnilt.
Now, waiting in the outer chamber for Neral to receive them, Spock observed Pardek chatting amiably with a woman who had introduced herself as an associate to Neral. She was, Spock noted, an unusual-looking Romulan, in that her hair was blond. Pardek was avuncular and friendly to her, but Spock sensed that even she kept herself at a remove from him, and was talking out of courtesy rather than choice.
It was not a good sign that they were being kept waiting. If this meeting were in fact the priority that Pardek insisted it was, they would not be kept on this hard bench in the lobby to make conversation with functionaries. For a brief moment the echo of Sarek’s —Picard’s?—skepticism resonated in his mind.
Spock was relieved when a young man came scurry-ing from Neral’s office and announced that the proconsul would now see them. Pardek broke off his conversation with the assistant and hurried over to Spock, his round, friendly face beaming with happi-ness.
“Shall we?” he asked, and Spock rose to follow him inside the inner chamber.
The man who greeted them was younger than Spock had imagined. He had heard the proconsul described as a youthful, dynamic leader, but this man seemed almost boyish. His eyes were dark and flashing, and his smile was immediate. He moved across the room toward them, his step buoyant. “Proconsul.” Pardek’s voice was a bit ingratiating.
“Yes… Pardek … come in,” said Neral. But his eyes were on Spock. “Ambassador Spock of Vulcan,” said Pardek unnecessarily.
“Proconsul,” said Spock evenly. He held Neral’s look.
“Please,” said Neral, waving the appellation away. “I’ve never liked titles since I was a lowly Uhlan in the Romulan guard. I am Neral.” He lifted his hand, looked at it in comic uncertainty. “Now, how is it again? Pardek’s tried to show me…”
He finally managed to arrange his fingers in the Vulcan greeting. Spock returned it. “I am honored,” he said.
“Good,” replied Neral. The two men held a look once again.
Pardek smiled nervously and Spock knew he felt like the outsider here in his own country’s seat of power. “Permit me to withdraw,” he said, and Spoek caught the touch of obsequiousness in his voice.
Neral turned to Pardek with practiced diplomacy. “Will we see you and your wife tomorrow at the state dinner?”
Pardek beamed with pleasure. “We’re looking forward to it,” he said, and bowed his head slightly. Itc turned and exited.
Neral turned back to Spock; the inflection of his voice implied that they shared some commonalty as he said, “It’s been years since old Pardek was invited to an official function. He’s