“Mekrikuk,” he said. “My name is Mekrikuk. Like the mountain range on my homeworld. And I certainly do understand why Starfleet personnel might distrust me, given the actions of Shinzon and his Reman followers. Although I have become somewhat used to confinement, I must say you are more civilized in your treatment of prisoners than were the Romulans.”
“You are not technically our prisoner,” Troi said, moving to stand near a side wall. “You will be released to the Remans as soon as you’re judged well enough to travel.”
Mekrikuk bared his fangs in what she thought might be an approximation of a smile. “And what if I do not wish to rejoin my people?”
“I’m sorry,” Troi said. “I just assumed. We can return you to the Romulans if you would like. Though why you would wish to return to a people who imprisoned you—”
“I don’t wish to be returned to either,”Mekrikuk said, interrupting her. “Did Tuvok not tell you?”
“Tuvok is in surgery right now, having his…facial alterations removed,” Troi said. She was intrigued now. “What was he supposed to have told me?”
Mekrikuk looked back toward the ceiling, but he was clearly focusing on something much farther away. “I hope to see Tuvok when he has recovered. When we were imprisoned together, we talked of many things. He told me much about the space beyond what I have known. Though I have been to other worlds, to fight in the war against the Dominion, I have known no life other than my existence serving the Romulan Star Empire. Tuvok gave me hope that I might seek a new life were we to escape from Vikr’l.
“Hope that I might find refuge within the Federation.” He turned to look at her again. “I hereby renounce all ties to my life as a Reman and to the Empire. I ask you for political asylum, Commander Troi.”
Troi struggled to keep the look of surprise off of her face. “Well, we can certainly take that under consideration. I will discuss the matter with the captain. I think I can at least guarantee you a fair hearing.” She knew from previous experience that once any sentient being made a formal asylum request, Federation law required a starship captain to grant a formal asylum hearing unless another government could demonstrate a lawful claim of custody. She had to wonder, though, how Mekrikuk’s former status as a prisoner of the Romulan justice system would factor into the proceedings.
“That calms my spirit,” Mekrikuk said, smiling again, his sharpened teeth bared.
Troi flinched involuntarily, then did her best to return his smile.
“May I ask you something else, Commander?” Mekrikuk said.
“Certainly.”
He looked back toward the ceiling. “I sense that you are uncomfortable around me. Have I done something to offend you? Or is it because I am Reman?”
Troi felt twin fires of anger and embarrassment flare within her. “I understand that some Remans have telepathic abilities, Mekrikuk. Most cultures consider it a violation of privacy to use them on others without permission.” The irony of her own words hit her a moment later. I read people’s emotional states all the time without their permission.
“You misunderstand me, Commander,” Mekrikuk said, frowning. “I did notuse the mind-touch to perceive your distress. The mind-touch requires much effort. But noticing your behavior in my presence does not. You seem to shrink away from me, as though repelled. I apologize if my question was intrusive.”
Troi blinked slowly, realization dawning on her. Throughout this entire mission, the horrific memories of the telepathic assault she had suffered at the hands of Shinzon—an act made possible by the psionic abilities of his Reman viceroy—had never been very far from the surface. Ever since it had happened, she’d managed to hide her feelings from everyone except Will. But this Reman had seen right through her pretenses, and her empathic talents told her that his denial of having used telepathy on her was sincere.
So much for my sanctimonious lectures on diversity,she thought. That’ll teach me to tease Will about being afraid of Dr. Ree.She had never felt so deeply ashamed of herself before.
“No, Mekrikuk, I should apologize to you,”she said. “I have allowed a past ordeal to color my view of all Remans, yourself included.”
Mekrikuk shrugged. “I suspect that Remans are no more like one another than are the members of other species. I have seen members of my people who were beauty personified. I have seen those who were pure, distilled hatred. And I have seen those who cross from one side to the other, and every shade in between.”
He looked back at her, and she saw an apparently bottomless well of pain in his hard, dark eyes. “But I believe myself to be unique. Not because I am a Reman who chooses to leave his people. Nor because of the experiences that have shaped who I am today. I am unique because I am Mekrikuk. Just as you are unique because you are Deanna Troi. Neither of us could be anyone else.”
Haltingly, trusting her empathic sense of his lack of ill intent, Troi approached the biobed more closely and deactivated the restraining field. She reached toward him and grasped his hand in hers. It felt cool and rough, like un-polished marble. Its nails were long and sharp, reminding her of the delicately tapered claws of Dr. Ree, whom she knew was one of the gentlest souls she had ever encountered.
“We’re allunique, Mekrikuk,” Troi said quietly. “And I will try to do my best to remember that in the future.”
“Will Uncle Ranul ever wake up?” Noah Powell asked, his eyes as big as saucers.
Alyssa Ogawa stood behind her son in the isolation room, stroking his sleek black hair. “We don’t know yet, sweetie,” she said. “Sometimes people in comas wake up, and other times they just sleep forever.”
“Rule of Acquisition Number One Hundred and Three: Sleep can interfere with…well, a whole lot of things.” The voice behind them was grating and female. Ogawa knew that it belonged to Dr. Bralik before she even turned around.
“Hello, Bralik,” she said agreeably.
“Hi, Alyssa,” Bralik said, pulling something from her tunic. She held it out toward Noah. “And how are you, little grub? I brought you some candy!”
Noah scowled. “I didn’t like that last stuff you gave me. It tasted yucky.”
Bralik’s eyes popped wide. “The honey beetle clusters? Oh, I’m hurt.”
Ogawa tapped her son on the shoulder. “Noah, I thought I taught you to be more polite than that.”
Noah sighed dramatically and held out his hand. “Thank you for the candy, Aunt Bralik.” She deposited a hard bar of a translucent, greenish substance in his hand. He sniffed at it tentatively. “What is it?”
“Slug Slime,” Bralik said, smiling. “Now why don’t you go get Auntie Bralik some water, and she’ll forget your lapse in manners.”
As soon as Noah had scampered out of the room, Ogawa asked, “What wasthat?”
Bralik shrugged. “Slug Slime? I don’t have any idea what’s in it. But grubs of all species seem to like it.”
Ogawa snorted as Bralik sat on the chair that Noah had vacated, bringing herself level with the biobed where Ranul Keru lay.
“How is the furball, really?” Bralik asked, putting her hand on Ranul’s, atop his chest.
“We were able to get the tool out of his chest without causing much additional damage,” Ogawa said. “But he also sustained a significant head injury during the collision. There’s a good deal of brain swelling. We don’t know when he’ll wake up.”
Bralik squinted back at her. “There’s not a question of ifhe’ll wake up, is there?”
Ogawa sighed, but didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to admit, either aloud or even in her own mind, the possibility that Keru might die. He’d become a great friend to her aboard the Enterprise,and a wonderful “uncle” for Noah, and their relationship had grown even stronger since they had come aboard Titan.