Unification - Jeri Taylor [83]
A few of their number had regrouped at the cavern, and then decided immediately that they must not meet there again; they could expect periodic raids, and the location of the cave was compromised.
D’Tan had been posted as a lookout, to waylay any of their number who might mistakenly seek sanctuary there, and to be alert for security guards who might want to pay a return visit close on the heels of the first sweep.
He peered down the long road leading to Dartha. It was rough country out here, craggy and barren, with only this thorny native bush as covering. In the distance, the towering structures of the city rose like a dark growth of sinister crystal spires. D’Tan looked toward the skies, usually gray with volcanic particulates, and actually saw patches of blue beyond the haze. He wondered if ever he would sail those heavens toward Vulcan, as he had longed all his life to do.
He thought he spotted movement on the road. Tensing, he crouched lower in the brush. Was it the guards? Or dazed survivors of the Krocton massacre? He strained to make out the figures as they made their way up the road toward the caves.
When he realized who they were, D’Tan’s heart leapt, and he could not contain himself. He burst out of the wagi brush, the thorns tearing at his clothes and skin, but he was oblivious. He went running, hard as he could, toward the advancing trio. Hope was pounding in his heart once more, and he felt the wind on his face and his feet pounding on the hard Romuian clay. It felt good to be running again.
Picard saw the lithe figure corning at them, waving and shouting. He could not restrain a smile as he saw the child D’Tan fling himself into Spock’s arms, hugging him and crying with joy and relief. Spock looked faintly embarrassed by this indulgent display of emotion, but he tolerated it patiently from the young boy.
Within half an hour, D’Tan had led them to a new range of rocky hills, and another subterranean cavern. They descended through a slippery passageway of loose shale, unsure of footing, clutching for support against the damp walls. There were no kekogen lights here; D’Tan carried a palm beacon that provided the only source of light.
But soon they emerged into a chamber lit by portable lamps, and saw a group of Romulan citizens —the small core of survivors of the dreadful massacre.
“Pardek never saw these caves,” explained D’Tan. “It’s safe, they won’t find us here.”
Picard’s gaze swept over the people in the cavern. Some looked stunned and abstracted; all carded the grim look of those who have been witness to butchery. Many were wounded, and wore makeshift bandages on various parts of their body.
But there was an undeniable spirit that radiated from them, an unquenchable quality of endurance. These people had survived; more importantly, they had not lost hope. Their strength and determination hung in the air like a palpable presence.
“What will you do now?” Pieard asked simply.
A young woman spoke immediately. “What we’ve always done. Continue to teach. Pass on the ideals to a new generation. Work for the day when new thoughts may be spoken aloud.”
Picard glanced toward Spock, saw him listening to the young woman with intent, saw him glance toward D’Tan, whose eager face shone from the crowd.
“The Federation will welcome that day,” Picard assured the young woman.
“Captain,” reminded Data, “we will need to reach our transport site within an hour.”
Picard nodded and as they began to move away from the others, he felt Spock touch his arm. Picard turned and looked into the ambassador’s eyes, and suddenly he knew what Spook was about to say.
“I will not be coming with you.”
Picard wanted to protest, wanted to show him how illogical such a decision would be. It was clear that Spock should