“Plot an intercept course, Chief. We’ll leave at my signal, best speed. I want to drop out of warp just outside the Romulan fleet’s sensor range and stay inconspicuous. If they dodetect us, I want them to think we’re nothing more than a sensor shadow.”
“Aye, sir. Are you expecting combat?”
“I sure as hell hope not, Chief. Riker out.”
“Aye, Captain. Bolaji out.”
Troi saw Will and Tuvok exchange a silent look and equally silent nods. Then the Vulcan tactical officer rose and quietly exited the room. Must be checking on the weapons systems,she thought. Just in case.
Donatra turned to face Will. “I must return to the Valdoreto confer with Commander Suran. We will depart when Titandoes, and follow a parallel course.”
“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” Will said, nodding. “Your warp signature will make it easier to pass ourselves off as a sensor shadow if your fleet manages to detect our approach.”
Tchev stood, as did Dekri. “We will return to the Dugh,”said the Klingon captain. “As will the rest of our crew. My people will not participate in this… targhunt.”
“Your vessel is so much wreckage,” Donatra said. “She would only slow us down. You might consider abandoning her.”
Dekri sneered openly at Donatra. “We will not leave her to the tender mercies of whatever scavengers frequent these parts. We will make such repairs as we can before attempting to re-cross the rift.”
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to post the Dughnear the rift while Titanand Valdorego hunting,” Vale said. “Somebody ought to keep an eye on it close up. And watch for more escape pods from the Neyel ships.”
Tchev nodded to Will. “We will remain vigilant until you return, Captain. Or until we complete sufficient repairs to attempt a return voyage through the rift.”
“All right,” Will said. “Make sure they have a working subspace transmitter, Mr. Vale. And whatever other assistance they might require.” He turned to Donatra again. “If you have no objections, Commander…”
Donatra shrugged. “What is the human expression? ‘It’s their funeral.’If they wish to hasten theirs by attempting to cross the rift unassisted, then it is none of my concern.” Troi sensed eager anticipation of the Klingons’ departure lurking beneath the commander’s calculated display of indifference. Donatra clearly cared not a bit whether or not the Klingons survived their captain’s perhaps reckless decision.
Frane rose as well then, the red chess piece clutched so tightly in his hand that Troi thought it might shatter. His pleading gaze was solely for Will.
“I wish to remain aboard Titan.And I want all the other survivors from the Neyel fleet brought here as well. There are only about twenty of us.”
Will looked toward Donatra, who merely responded with another “suit yourself” shrug. He crossed to the Neyel then and took the large gray hand he offered in a firm clasp.
“My diplomatic officer will issue guest quarters for your people, Mr. Frane,” Will said. Troi made a mental note to confer with Tuvok about security issues as she set up accommodations for Titan’s new guests.
Frane’s stiff features smoothed into a grateful smile. Troi experienced a sensation of something akin to joy, a feeling that made her think of long-overdue family reunions.
Disengaging his hand from the Neyel’s, Will crossed back to Donatra. “It’s going to take several hours to reach the fleet’s current position. It might be a whole day before we actually catch up to them.”
“I’ll make sure we’re on the lookout for Neyel military patrols along the way,” Vale said.
“Good,” Will said, nodding. “According to Excelsior’s reports, they weren’t a very trusting bunch.”
“And after we catch up to the Romulan ships, what then?” Vale wanted to know.
The room fell silent yet again. A cloud of uncertainty permeated the observation lounge. Still, Troi could sense Will’s faith that he would find an appropriate course of action, that a better explanation than “possession” could be found for the behavior of Donatra’s fleet. Titan,the Valdore,and the Dughwere going to need the help of those ships and their crews if they were to stand any real chance of getting home in one piece.
And Troi knew that the clock was ticking relentlessly toward the time when even the combined power of Donatra’s fleet wouldn’t be enough to save them.
Chapter Nine
STARDATE 57028.3
“Please, come in, Admiral,” Deanna Troi said, looking up at the towering, snow-haired man who stood in the doorway of her office.
“I understand that you requested to see me, Commander?” Admiral Akaar ducked slightly as he entered the room. He remained standing, not quite at full attention, but remained straight enough to be more than a little imposing. “What can I help you with?”
Troi stood from behind her desk and gestured toward the plush turquoise settee near the one wall that was lined with crowded bookcases. “Please, sit, Admiral.”
Akaar regarded her with a silent stare for a moment, then moved to the couch and sat. “Should I assume I am here for a professional visit, Counselor? Are you sensing that I require therapy?”
Troi smiled as she sat down on a nearby matching chaise longue. “Professional, yes. Therapy, no. I wanted to get some more background on the Neyel.”
“Then I suggest you speak to Frane. Or perhaps one of our other Neyel guests.”
“I’ve already done that, Admiral. And the captain and I have both learned quite a bit about the Neyel that way—and the non-Neyel aliens who accompanied Frane—despite the reticence I sensed from several of our guests after they learned about my Betazoid talents.”
“And what new insights have you gleaned?”
“Well, for one, the non-Neyel aliens we brought aboard are all members of races the Neyel Hegemony treats as second-class citizens.”
“Former slaves?” Akaar said.
“Evidently. I’m glad the Neyel seem to have done away with slavery as an institution, but they have a long way to go in terms of establishing equality.”
Akaar offered her a small smile. “No one knows better than I that such things take time, Counselor.” Troi knew that he had to be talking about his homeworld of Capella IV, which would no doubt enter the Federation someday—though probably not during the admiral’s lifetime.
Troi nodded sadly. “I have also learned that the Neyel people’s pride in their self-reliance seems to be quite ingrained. It explains their continued insistence that they don’t need outside help to deal with the current crisis.”
Akaar nodded soberly. “That is not surprising. The earliest generations of Neyel overcame almost unimaginable adversities merely to survive. And those adversities made them understandably distrustful of outsiders.”
“Yes, it’s certainly understandable. But their ‘go it alone’ attitude might be working counter to the survival of their species now.”
“I agree. How may I help?”
“I want to try to get a better sense of who these people are,Admiral, based on what we know about who they were.Fortunately for me, I have two primary sources to consult: Commander Tuvok and yourself.”
Although Akaar’s face remained impassive, Troi sensed a flare-up of intense emotion being restrained when she mentioned the Vulcan tactical officer’s name.
“What can I tell you that was not already in my report, or in Captain Sulu’s?” Akaar asked. “Remember that it hasbeen eighty years since I last set eyes on a Neyel. I do not enjoy admitting that I am growing old, Counselor. Yet here I am, eight decades older, more stubborn, and—some would say—none the wiser.” His smile returned. “What do you wish to know?”