Tuvok nodded, gesturing toward something behind him. “I consider that due in part to the effect that Mekrikuk appears to have on some of the more emotionally volatile refugees, sir. He exerts an immensely calming influence.”
Akaar gritted his teeth and finally stepped forward. “Commander, what are the coordinates of the religious compound?”
On the screen, Tuvok raised an eyebrow, his gaze moving to the side as he took in the Capellan admiral. “Sending coordinates now, Admiral. However, atmospheric ionization over that region of the planet makes transporter use inadvisable. Would you like us to make another attempt to persuade them? I would have thought you would be in agreement with Captain Riker.”
Akaar sensed in Tuvok’s words something that was almost an accusation. Resentments now more than three decades old stirred again within him, but he tamped them back down. “No. Find another target. If they are determined to die for their cause, we must respect their wishes.”
He turned his back quickly, as his lips began to tremble. The rescue missions were becoming increasingly perilous as the protouniverse’s energy discharges became more frequent; one Romulan ship, the S’harien,had been destroyed, hulled directly through the engine core by a pair of simultaneous interspatial energy blasts that had appeared too quickly to be avoided. Another one of Donatra’s vessels was too damaged to continue, and would have to be taken in tow. Titan’s shuttlecraft had taken a beating as well; the Beiderbeckehad apparently just barely avoided being crushed flat by a tsunami, and had just returned to the main shuttlebay for a quick inspection.
Akaar crossed to an unoccupied bridge console and examined the data Tuvok had transmitted. The coordinates for the religious compound were located in a remote desert area, a place that had so far remained mostly untouched by the ubiquitous calamities happening elsewhere on the planet. Apparently it had been relatively easy for these reclusive people to detach themselves from the dire necessity of taking action. Their decision to refuse assistance seemed ill-considered and selfish.
Was their decision the same one he had made back on Planetoid 437 all those years ago? The decision that Tuvok had thwarted, thereby effectively ending a friendship that had begun more than half a century earlier, aboard Excelsior.
His own rising anger answered the question for him. Howdare they refuse to help save themselves? Their race?His blood burned. We may be sacrificing everything by trying to save them, and yet they refuse to help themselves.
He closed his eyes, made a decision, then opened them again and stalked toward the turbolift.
Once inside, he barked an order into his combadge. “Computer, locate Chief Axel Bolaji.” He hated taking the new father on a mission that would place him directly in harm’s way. But until Titanreturned home, everyonewas in danger.
And right now, he really needed a good pilot.
VANGUARD
Frane slumped exhausted against the wall of a public gallery. The gentle upward curvature of the floor, which conformed to the overall cylindrical shape of the asteroid in which Holy Vangar had been built, wasn’t at all apparent at the moment. This might have been because of the growing, surprisingly orderly crowds of refugees. Or it could have been a result of his own fatigue. At the moment, he neither knew nor cared.
What he didknow was that it had been around six hours since he had taken any nourishment, and his energy level was declining quickly. And yet he wondered how he could stop to replenish himself when so much depended on him.
Hundreds of thousands of Neyel and native Oghen refugees had now been ferried up to Holy Vangar, and he had worked tirelessly, right alongside Harn and his men, in greeting and feeding the newcomers, organizing and prioritizing their many needs, and even enlisting the help of those who weren’t too badly shocked or injured to assist in those same efforts. Frane hadn’t taken much time as yet to consider the irony of the situation, though he was certainly aware of it; he was now actively working against the cause he had supported for so much of his young life, the cause of the Sleeper and the self-flagellating Seekers After Penance.
After all, how could a just god allow the wholesale destruction that was happening now? He hadn’t considered the ramifications of the punishment he had formerly wished upon his own people.
Until now. I was naïve,he told himself. The Sleeper was unworthy of both his worship and his respect if it could make no exceptions for those who were anrorli,innocent of the sin of slavery.
Even as his faith in his dread god crashed and burned around him, Frane knew that his faith in others was being restored. The humans from Titanand the countless Other Races of Men who also crewed that vessel were giving everything they had, risking their lives to save the Neyel and the natives alike. Even the Romulans, who had seemed so devious and treacherous when he had first encountered them, were not only assisting, but were providing most of the power required to make the evacuation of the Coreworld a success.
He felt his legs collapse beneath him, and spots began to appear across his vision.
A human appeared, a slender woman with dark hair and dusky features. He recognized her from the medical chambers aboard Titan.But whatever it was that she was saying was lost in the buzzing that had suddenly filled his ears.
She pointed one of her devices at him, her eyes alternately looking at him and the readout on the device. Then she removed another object from the bag that was slung over one of her shoulders. She pressed it up against his neck, and he felt a tiny sting.
Almost immediately, his vision began to clear and his hearing began to return to normal. He looked up at the woman, and into her large brown eyes.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
Frane nodded. “What happened?”
“Looks like your blood sugar crashed, and all this excitement didn’t help,” the woman said. “I gave you some glucose and tri-ox. That should keep you going for a while, but I’d suggest you get some food into you soon.”
She reached down to pull him up. “I’m Nurse Ogawa, by the way.”
Frane allowed her to help pull him back to a standing position, using his tail as leverage to help steady himself. “Yes, I remember seeing you in Titan’s sickbay. Thank you for your help.”
She made an expansive gesture around them both. “We can’t have one of the heroes of the Neyel miss the rescue of his people now, can we?”
Hero?The word was an explosion in Frane’s mind, one he had never expected to hear in conjunction with himself or his actions.
He shook his head, unsure whether he was agreeing with her or trying to dislodge the very idea from his thoughts.
SHUTTLECRAFT GILLESPIE
Using the bionic hand at the end of his prehensile tail, Cadet Torvig Bu-kar-nguv reached out and tugged on the sleeve of Lieutenant Eviku, trying to capture the Arkenite scientist’s attention quietly.
“Sir, have you noticed how many more Neyel we’re rescuing than any of the other species?” Torvig asked.
Eviku pursed his lips, and looked around the shuttle. The aft section, visible through an open hatchway through which other Starfleet personnel were moving, was crammed full of refugees.
Torvig followed his gaze, mentally counting the many disparate species aboard. This was their fourth trip, and had proved to be the most dangerous one so far. The interspatial energy discharges and related natural disasters occurring on Oghen were making their rescue flights more and more dangerous by the second. It was a good thing that Pazlar’s piloting skills were so strong, otherwise the shuttlecraft Gillespiemight have gone down just like that Romulan warbird had.