Frane appeared to realize all at once that it was again his turn to move. His knight took the bishop with which Riker had captured the red rook. “You’re right. It’s not just your admiral.”
“What, then?”
“It’s…your entire crew.”
That blunt declaration brought Riker up short. “I’m quite proud of this crew, Mr. Frane. It’s the most diverse group of sentients currently serving in the entire fleet.”
“I don’t doubt that for an instant. But…”
Riker sighed, his impatience getting the better of him. “But?”
Frane cleared his throat and started over. “You keep assuring me that your intentions are benign. Yet you’ve acquired slaves from just about every world across your galaxy.”
Riker was glad he wasn’t drinking anything at that moment; he almost certainly would have sprayed a generous amount across the chessboard and into Frane’s lap. “Slaves?”
“You run this ship and command her crew, don’t you?”
“Titanis under my command, yes.”
“And you’re a human. Commander Vale, your first officer, is also a human. Commander Troi, your diplomatic officer—whom I’m given to understand is also your wife—is half-human, and certainly looks human enough to pass for one, as does that staring admiral—”
Nettled, Riker interrupted. “What are you saying?”
“Only that this ‘diverse’ crew of which you are so proud answers to a small group of powerful humans—or else to beings who so resemble humans that no one can tell the difference. Just as most of the elder species of M’jallanish space answer to a relative handful of their Neyel overlords.”
Riker watched in stunned silence as a cold-eyed Frane moved the red queen, placing Riker’s white king in check. The Neyel began absently playing with the bracelet on his wrist as he continued looking down at the board.
“You obviously missed a lot of the nuances of our historical database,” the captain said at length. “Our Federation is based on mutual cooperation. Not conquest.”
Frane looked up at him. “Then why do humans seem to be at the top of all of the Federation’s most significant hierarchies?”
Riker castled, buying himself a move or two. “The Federation Council has always had equal representation, Frane, and a good number of nonhuman presidents. Bolians, Grazerites, Andorians, Efrosians—”
“But a human sits in that office presently. Correct? And humans have held it more often than any other single species.”
Riker found that he was back in check yet again. “Humans are a big constituency in the Federation, Neyel racial guilt notwithstanding. So, yes, garden-variety humans are bound to get into the Palais de la Concorde from time to time. But that doesn’t make us conquerors. I admit that humans have assumed a large role in running the Federation. It’s a heavy burden of responsibility, but it’s one we share freely with many other species. Humans also assume our fair share of the risks involved in maintaining and defending the Federation. But the Federation is a big place, and we don’t see ourselves as having—or deserving—a dominant position in it.”
Frane looked impressed, if not altogether convinced. “What about that large, white-skinned fellow I saw when I visited your doctor in sickbay?”
“You mean Mekrikuk. He’s a Reman—they’re recent wartime allies from outside the Federation—and he came aboard temporarily just before the…accident that brought us here.”
“Ah. I noticed that he seems to be confined to your infirmary, even though very little appears to be wrong with him. Is his enslavement justified by his being from ‘outside the Federation’?”
Riker sighed, unused to such cynicism, particularly from someone of Frane’s tender years. “Mekrikuk is no slave, Frane. At least, not since we freed him from those who hadenslaved him and his people. At the moment, Dr. Ree is still keeping him under observation. But I won’t lie to you—Mekrikuk does present us with certain…security concerns.”
Riker felt uncomfortable being reminded that he wasn’t going to be able to keep Mekrikuk detained this way forever. Once he was well enough that Ree felt he could discharge him, the Reman would have to be declared either friend or foe, bound for either guest quarters or a security cell. And Mekrikuk himself had complicated matters greatly by having made a formal request for political asylum.
Riker was also beginning to feel discomfiture about something else: the notion that some of the prejudices Frane was projecting onto him might, even in some small way, be real. He considered the initial revulsion he’d felt when Deanna had introduced him to Dr. Ree. And Frane’s trenchant observation that despite Titan’s highly variegated crew, humans dominated the ship’s command hierarchy. Am Ireally as species-blind as I’ve always given myself credit for being? When I chose Chris to be my exec, was itreally because I thought she was the best candidate? Or was it because I thought I might relate better to a human first officer?
It suddenly became very important to Riker to end this particular debate. “Let me ask you something, Frane: Should I assume the aliens we found with you in your escape pod are yourslaves, just because of your people’s history as slavers?”
“But they wereslaves of my people, in reality if not in legal fact. At least, that’s very much how it seemed before we came together in common brotherhood as the Seekers After Penance.”
“Ah. Your pilgrimage to wake up the Sleeper. And to punish the Neyel for being slavers, as well as everyone else around here for having allowed the Neyel to enslave them.”
Frane gave a rueful nod, his eyes haunted. He looked as though he was ready to bolt. Riker decided that now might be a good time to change the subject.
“That’s an interesting bracelet,” he said, looking down at Frane’s gray wrist. The Neyel’s tail suddenly rose behind him, going rigid as his other hand pulled the sleeve of his robe down to cover up the bracelet. Obviously, it meant a great deal to him.
Riker tried to make his tone of voice as soothing as possible. “Relax, Mr. Frane. Remember, you’re among friends.”
Frane reached forward and moved one of his rooks. “Checkmate. Thank you for the game.” He stood. “Please excuse me, Captain. I wish to be with Nozomi and the others, to meditate.” And with that, he headed for the exit. Riker watched the Neyel’s retreating back long enough to see Lieutenant Hutchinson from security discreetly following.
Riker continued sitting, and stared dolefully at the board and its scattered game pieces as though he were surveying an ancient killing field.
“How’d it go?” said a gentle voice from across the table.
Riker looked up and saw that his wife had somehow taken Frane’s place without his having noticed.
“I think this is the last time I’ll try working your side of the street, Counselor.”
“That bad?” she asked, extracting his right hand from the wreckage of battle and holding it between both of her own.
“Let’s just say he’s got ‘daddy abandonment issues’ that make mine pale by comparison.”
Deanna, with whom he had been sharing every fact he’d been able to tease out of Frane to date, fixed him with a look of mock surprise. “No. Do you suppose he’s auditioning you as a replacement for his own late, emotionally distant father?”
“Very funny, Counselor. You really think I’m ‘emotionally distant’?”
“Not at all,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But the relationship Frane had with his father strikes me as very similar to the one you had with yours. Maybe he’s picked up on that, and therefore sees you as a kindred spirit.”
Riker shrugged. “There’s a lot more going on with him than father-figure issues, though. He’s also carrying around at least a couple of centuries worth of collective racial guilt on his shoulders.”
“That much was fairly clear to me from the beginning,” she said, nodding. “My impression is that ‘slavemaster guilt’ attitudes such as Frane’s are fairly common among Neyel of his generation. His reverence for the native religious tradition of the Sleeper may even be part of a growing Neyel countercultural movement. And another thing about Frane is even clearer to me now as well.”