“After everything I have experienced since Vikr’l Prison, I would find a certain amount of boredom agreeable,” Mekrikuk said in a pleasing tenor voice that didn’t at all comport with his fierce countenance. “Besides, I do not believe my continued presence would be appropriate aboard a ship of exploration. I am certain that Starfleet would agree with that assessment.”
“You have unique talents, Mekrikuk,” Tuvok said. “Those talents saved countless lives on Vanguard, and will be sorely missed.”
Mekrikuk nodded at the man the Romulans had once so brutally imprisoned with him. “Let us all hope then that your need for such talents remains infrequent, Commander Tuvok. Perhaps our paths will cross again one day. After my…immigration issues have been fully resolved, of course.”
“Has Admiral de la Fuega scheduled a hearing yet on your request for political asylum?” Troi asked.
Mekrikuk shook his head. “I suspect that Starfleet Intelligence will wish to debrief me first.”
“I’m sure they will,” said the captain. “But only under Admiral de la Fuega’s direct supervision.”
Troi sensed some trepidation coming from Mekrikuk, whose Romulan interrogators and jailers had doubtless more than justified such fears.
“Don’t worry,” Troi said. “Starfleet Intelligence is notthe Tal Shiar.” At least, not most of the time.
Will nodded. “And Alita de la Fuega is an honorable woman. I wouldn’t want to trade places with any SI interrogator who tries to step out of bounds on herstarbase.”
He nodded, and Troi sensed that Mekrikuk was greatly reassured. Then he turned again and stepped up onto the transporter stage.
“Good-bye, Mekrikuk,” Troi said.
“I am sure we will all see one another again,” the Reman said. “Someday.”
“Peace,” Tuvok said. “And long life.”
“Farewell, my friend,” Will said.
“Farewell. Thank you all, and may Tenakruvek watch over you.”
Will nodded toward Radowski, who slid his right hand forward across the top of the transporter control console. Mekrikuk and his escorts were instantly engulfed in a curtain of shimmering light, and then vanished entirely.
STARDATE 57080.6
Seated in her chair near the center of Titan’s bridge, Troi set down the padd she was reading and trained her eyes on the main viewscreen. She was rewarded with a vision of the beautiful blue world Titanwas orbiting. But as lovely as the sight was, she felt more than ready to move on, as did everyone else on board. The buzz of eager anticipation that energized the entire crew buoyed her, almost burying her traumatic memories of the death of the planet Oghen.
Almost.
Titanwas quickly approaching the daylight terminator of Iota Leonis II, the aquamarine M-Class world upon which the sprawling Starbase 185 compound lay. The starbase’s position in the Federation’s Beta Quadrant frontier made it not only the closest starbase to Titanafter her return to Romulan space, but also made it an ideal jumping-off point from which to access the rimward reaches of the Milky Way’s vast, mostly uncharted Orion Arm.
The time had come to resume Titan’s original—and interrupted—mission of exploration; that mission had been the new starship’s raison d’être prior to the emergence of almost simultaneous crises in the Romulan Empire and the Neyel Hegemony.
Now Titanwas ready to get back to her real work. The last of her repairs, which had primarily involved the replacement of a number of compromised hull plates, EPS relays, and a few related circuits, had been completed hours ago. Every crew member who had taken shore leave at the starbase was now back on board. The repair technicians that Admiral de la Fuega had loaned to Dr. Ra-Havreii had all been returned to the planet’s surface. Titanwas ready, at long last, to cast off into the unexplored, as was her crew. Ahead lay the Gum Nebula, and the seductive beckoning of the Unknown.
But Troi knew that this ship wasn’t going anywhere until Will tended to one final piece of unfinished business.
Glancing to her right, Troi noticed that Christine Vale seemed to be having similar thoughts.
“You’re still staring at it,” Troi said to Vale’s back, obviously not referring to the planet that was turning majestically on the viewscreen, hundreds of kilometers below.
Vale chuckled as she turned the captain’s chair back toward the front of the bridge. “Sorry to be so fidgety, Deanna. But when Will took down my suggestion box, he left a huge, conspicuous bare spot on the bulkhead. I have to look right at it every time I use the turbolift. It’s impossible to avoid, the way your tongue keeps going after a missing tooth.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, Chris. I still have all my teeth.” Troi grinned broadly, displaying them.
Vale returned her smile with almost equal wattage. “I know, Deanna. Have I told you how much I hate you for that? You obviously never worked in security.”
Troi stifled a guffaw behind the back of her hand as the turbolift whooshed open. She turned toward the sound and watched Bralik and Cethente moving out onto the bridge, the latter perambulating so smoothly on his four, outwardly splayed lower limbs that he almost could have been mounted on wheels.
Bralik stepped over to the bridge railing near where Jaza was working at the main science station. Troi noticed then that the Ferengi geologist had a bottle tucked under her arm. The bottle complemented the rack of delicately fluted champagne glasses that hung from one of Cethente’s four tentacle-like upper appendages.
Bralik immediately fixed her gaze on the bare spot on the bulkhead that Vale had pointed out. “Good. They’ve finally taken the suggestion box down. Looks like the decision’s been made. I just hope we haven’t missed the ceremony yet. When do the festivities start?”
Personally, Troi had had more than enough of ceremonies of any sort, after the recent memorial services for Chief Engineer Ledrah and Lieutenant T’Lirin. The latter, who had been lost during the Oghen evacuation, had been memorialized in a very brief but dignified service, per the Vulcan security officer’s own written directives.
But with T’Lirin’s memorial still only five days in the past, Troi could well understand the need that some of her colleagues might have for other, more life-affirming rites in the wake of so much recent sorrow.
Vale rose and crossed to the railing that ringed the bridge’s central section, approaching Bralik. “Ceremony? We hadn’t planned to make a huge production out of this, Bralik. It’s really not a big deal.”
Bralik’s eyes grew large. “Not a big deal? Nota big deal?”She raised the bottle and produced a gleaming corkscrew with all the panache of a professional stage magician. “Any time a starship gets its official motto installed is a cause for celebration. It’s like…” She paused, seeming to have to grope for an acceptable metaphor. “…like when a Ferengi business concern publicly unveils its mission statements.”
“ ‘Statements’?” Troi asked, rising from her chair. “Why do they need more than one?”
Bralik regarded her as though she belonged to some newly discovered variety of idiot. “There’s the one the company shows to the Ferengi Commerce Authority. And then there’s the realone that management shows its employees.”
Vale shook her head. “I still wouldn’t make too much out of this, Bralik. It’s just a dedication plaque, for crying out loud.”
Bralik snickered as she opened the bottle, which made a loud “pop” but fortunately did not shower the deck with the bottle’s contents. The Ferengi addressed Cethente as she accepted a glass from him. “ ‘Just a dedication plaque,’ she says.” To Vale, she added, “So why did you spend weeksagonizing over piles of quotes and epigrams from all over the galaxy?”