Tuvok immediately revised his opinion of Spock’s manner. He knows how to speak to these people in a way they understand, he thought. Diplomacy is clearly best left to those with the skill and temperament to carry it out.
“I must further assume that you have found some common ground among all three races,” Tuvok said aloud. He wasn’t certain what that commonality was, but if anyone could negotiate peace between the Romulans and the Remans, on his way to unifying Romulus and Vulcan, it was Spock.
“Two standard months ago, I told you that the tensions between the Romulan Senate and the military factions were swiftly headed toward a breaking point,” Spock said. “None of us could have guessed how swiftly the crisis would come to a head, nor what the ramifications of Shinzon’s actions would be.
“While you were incarcerated, the Romulan Star Empire was brought to the very brink of ruin. Although logic dictated that the Unification movement would stand little chance of success in the current climate of political upheaval, I have attracted more followers to my cause than ever before. And not solely from the obvious sources.”
He paused for a moment, steepling his fingers before him. “I have come to realize the value of brokering rapprochement and peace with the Remans. The Federation seeks peace only with whoever controls the Romulan Star Empire’s levers of power; but it has underestimated the will of those within the Empire who believe that the established power structure on Romulus has reached the end of its useful life.”
“Surely you realize that whoever currently controls Ki Baratan’s political and military hierarchies will never step aside voluntarily,” Tuvok said.
A look akin to sadness played across Spock’s eyes. “Yes.”
Tuvok felt a deathly chill slowly ascend the length of his spine. “It sounds as though you are working with the Remans to engineer an outright armed rebellion. Have you been away from Vulcan so long that you have forgotten the teachings of Surak?”
Spock gestured toward Colonel Xiomek. “The Remans have not moved against the Empire, although I can assure you they have the capability of doing so. Were that to occur, the fires of violence that still burn within the Romulan heart might be stoked beyond anyone’s ability to bank them again.”
And what would become of your life’s work then? Tuvok thought, nodding. “I see,” he said aloud.
“I am attempting to show the Reman leadership the need to curb their people’s desire for revenge, and to seek other methods of redress and social change,” Spock continued. “They may even have a better affinity for pure logic than that of our Romulan cousins—at least, those who reject out of hand the path of Unification.”
Though his respect for Spock’s accomplishments and expertise remained vast, Tuvok could not deny his growing sensation of foreboding. “You cannot be unaware of the dangers inherent in trying to engineer even a nonviolent revolution,” Tuvok said, turning the cool communicator over and over in his left hand. “If you were to cause a civil war here, however inadvertently, your name would be—”
“Reviled forever,” Spock said brusquely, interrupting. “My reputation matters little when placed in the balance against the cause of Vulcan-Romulan Unification.”
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, Tuvok thought, recalling an aphorism from Surak’s Analects. “But are you really willing to risk engendering further violence—merely to advance the uncertain end of Unification?”
Spock paused, staring pensively off into the darkness. He seemed about to answer when Tuvok noticed a rippling shimmer begin to gather in the air around the aging diplomat. A millisecond later, he saw it appear around himself as well, and felt the familiar, momentarily vertiginous tug of a transporter beam.
The rocky cavern walls and shocked faces of the Remans and Unificationist Romulans were replaced by the smooth and comparatively sterile interior of a Starfleet shuttlecraft. Tuvok found himself standing on a narrow transporter pad, alongside Spock, whose surprise was being expressed entirely through his right eyebrow. Turning, Tuvok then saw a bearded Trill who was clad in a battered black utilitarian suit, no doubt designed for stealth operations. He wasn’t sure whether or not he had seen the man before. Commander Keru?
The Trill favored Tuvok with a grim smile as he swiped his hand downward over the transporter controls on the console beside him.
As he dematerialized yet again, Tuvok couldn’t help but wonder what effect Spock’s unplanned departure from the caverns beneath Romulus would have on his supporters.
Chapter Nineteen
U.S.S. TITAN
The shimmering curtain of light released him, and Tuvok found himself standing beside a moderately surprised-looking Spock on a much wider Federation transporter stage than the one the shuttlecraft had carried. He presumed that they were now aboard the very starship from which the shuttlecraft had originated.
“Lieutenant Radowski to bridge,” said the young male human Starfleet officer who stood behind the transporter room’s sleek control console.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” replied the resonant, businesslike voice that issued from the junior officer’s combadge.
“They’re both on board, Captain.”
“Good work. I’m on my way.”
The next moment, the doors whisked open to admit a pair of armed personnel who were obviously security guards. Seeing their hard stares, Tuvok remained where he was on the transporter stage. He was mildly surprised to see Spock step off the stage and onto the deck.
“Please remain where you are, sir,” one of the guards said.
Spock obediently stopped, though his craggy features betrayed determination rather than fear.
Less than a minute later, a tall, bearded Starfleet officer followed the armed personnel into the chamber, accompanied by a petite, dark-haired humanoid woman. Tuvok recognized them both immediately. So, too, apparently, did Spock.
“Captain Riker,” Spock said. “Commander Troi.”
“Ambassador Spock,” Riker replied, nodding to the security guards. They both remained attentive, though their demeanor relaxed from vigilant suspicion to an obvious dawning awareness of the ambassador’s identity.
Riker and Troi turned toward Tuvok, who decided that the ideal moment to introduce himself had arrived. “Commander Tuvok, currently on detached duty with Starfleet Intelligence. Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Tuvok allowed himself to be pleased by his discovery that he had not been so weakened by his prison ordeal as to have entirely forgotten Starfleet protocols.
“Granted,” Riker said. “Welcome aboard Titan.”
Tuvok replied by moving down from the stage to stand beside Spock. Tuvok realized only then that the ambassador had pointedly not asked anyone’s permission before he had stepped down onto the deck.
“I must confess to some surprise at your presence here, Captain,” Spock said, fixing his gaze squarely upon Riker. “Your arrival has greatly complicated my work on Romulus. I must return to the Remans quickly if I am to finish dissuading them from their war plans.”
“You’re welcome,” Riker said with an ironic shake of his head. “Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador, but I was under the impression that we just rescued you.”
“ ‘Rescue’ from the company of an ally and negotiating partner is hardly necessary, Captain,” Spock said dryly.
Mention of the word “rescue” had a bracing effect on Tuvok’s fatigued mind. “Captain, regarding Mekrikuk—the Reman who was helping me escape when your rescue team reached me—do you know if he managed to escape as well?”
Riker nodded. “He’s suffered some pretty serious injuries. My chief of security has already beamed him directly to our sickbay, along with our shuttle pilot and one of our security officers. But my chief medical officer is confident that they’ll both pull through.”
“I am gratified to hear that, Captain. I would almost certainly have died in that prison if not for Mekrikuk.”
“I see. Dr. Ree will do everything he can.” The captain looked Tuvok up an
d down, obviously taking in his distressed, bloodied clothing. Tuvok supposed that Riker was also inventorying his many visible scrapes, cuts, and bruises—to say nothing of the forehead surgery he had obviously undergone in order to pass unnoticed among the Romulans. “I want you to report to sickbay, too, Commander Tuvok.”
Though he was inclined to argue that his injuries weren’t that severe, Tuvok merely nodded silently.
The transporter room door slid open once again. Yet another Starfleet officer entered the room, ducking because the doorway had not been designed to accommodate his atypical height. Although Tuvok had not seen the silver-haired Capellan in decades, he recognized him immediately—and felt a surprising rush of pleasure at his presence, in spite of what had passed between them some thirty years ago. Silently cursing the extent to which his lengthy prison ordeal had obviously compromised his emotional control, Tuvok carefully schooled his features into an unreadable mask.
“Admiral,” Tuvok said after glancing at the pips on the other man’s collar. When had Akaar been promoted to fleet admiral? “You are looking well.”
A grin slowly spread across Akaar’s lined face. “But you have certainly looked better, my old friend. I am pleased to see you, Tuvok. I had begun to fear that the Empire’s current upheavals had proved to be your undoing.”
“As had I, Admiral,” Tuvok said, his voice hoarse, his throat suddenly feeling as dry as Vulcan’s Forge. He was grateful that the admiral had the sensitivity not to try to touch him.
“We both should have known better,” Akaar said, no doubt remembering more carefree times, when they had first served together aboard the Excelsior.
But the moment quickly passed, and Akaar turned his attention elsewhere. “Ambassador Spock.”
Something perilously close to a human smile touched the ambassador’s lips. “ ‘Spock’ will be sufficient, Admiral.”
“Spock,” the admiral repeated, the single syllable sounding almost awkward. “I am pleased, also, that you are unharmed.”
“While I, too, am gratified to see you again, Admiral, now is not the best time for reunions. I must return to the Remans immediately, so that I may prevent a likely war and return to the task of reuniting the Vulcan and Romulan peoples.”
Tuvok thought that Spock had made a good point. Perhaps now was not the best time to have summarily yanked the ambassador away from his emotionally volatile Reman allies. Would his sudden disappearance cause them to panic and take some precipitous action? Knowing what he did about the ships and weaponry the Remans had quietly accumulated during the Dominion War, he believed that they could cause a good deal of damage if given sufficient reason.
Tuvok noticed that Akaar’s already solemn expression had subtly shifted toward outright grimness as he responded to the ambassador’s request. “I regret that I cannot do that, Ambassador. At least not yet. We have pressing matters to discuss first.” Akaar then turned to address Captain Riker. “And the transporter room is a less-than-ideal place to do that, Captain.”
“Of course,” Riker said. Turning his gaze toward Spock, he added, “Ambassador, Admiral, please accompany me and Commander Troi to my ready room.” To Tuvok, he said, “Commander Tuvok, I’ll have one of my people escort you to sickbay.”
Tuvok quietly shook his head, displaying what he hoped Riker would take as persuasive determination. “I believe that can wait, Captain. As Admiral Akaar has said, we have pressing matters to discuss first.”
Striding forward in silence, Riker led Deanna, Admiral Akaar, Ambassador Spock, and Commander Tuvok—whom he had included in the meeting at the insistence of both Vulcans—across the bridge and into his ready room.
Akaar was the first to take a seat, settling on a tall chair that was situated directly in front of the captain’s desk. His eyes firmly fixed on Spock, the admiral made a simple, blunt declaration. “Ambassador Spock, the Federation Council has decided to formally withdraw all of its covert support for your Unification movement, effective stardate 57088.8. I am sorry.”
That’s only about a month from now, Riker thought.
But Akaar wasn’t finished. “The council also requests, and requires, that you cease your activities here and return to the Federation for debriefing.”
Trying to conceal his surprise at these revelations, Riker took a seat behind his desk as Deanna sat on a couch beside Tuvok, who was still clad in the distressed Romulan civilian clothing he’d been wearing at the time of his rescue. Though the bruised and battered Tuvok was clearly in need of medical attention, he was just as obviously determined to take in this meeting first.
Ignoring the seat he’d been offered, Spock remained standing, his expression impassive and all but imperturbable. He turned away from Riker’s desk to face Akaar.
“I already know,” Spock said, betraying no trace of emotion.
For the first time that Riker could recall, Akaar looked genuinely surprised. “You know?”
Spock seemed almost to enjoy the admiral’s momentary discomfiture. “I have my resources. The council, it would seem, perceives my work here to be a potential impediment to its own peace efforts. And perhaps even a danger.”
Akaar merely stared silently at Spock without denying his assertion.
Riker glanced at Deanna, who was shifting uncomfortably next to Tuvok; he’d known her long enough to see that she was reacting to someone’s particularly strong emotional spike.
“Admiral, I came to Romulus to request Ambassador Spock’s temporary return to Earth,” Tuvok said. Though he spoke quietly, Riker could see from the set of Tuvok’s jaw that he was the source of Deanna’s distress. “However, I was told beforehand that Unification had the council’s full support. When did the council reverse itself?”
“The initiative began the day the council learned of the assassination of the Romulan Senate,” Akaar explained.
“The day the Romulans took me prisoner,” Tuvok said, apparently staring off into some horrible memory hole. Recalling his own recent maltreatment as a prisoner of war on Tezwa, Riker shuddered involuntarily.
Grave-faced, Akaar nodded to Tuvok. “Much changed that day. The formal decision to order Spock’s return came later, after several weeks of…spirited closed-door debate. I am sure I need not remind anyone here how profoundly and quickly the fall of the Senate changed the Federation’s relationship with the Romulan Star Empire.”
“Indeed,” said Spock. “But I trust that the council’s decision does not comport with the wishes of President Bacco.”
“It does not. But the Federation president is not an autocrat. She can be overruled by the council. Perhaps if you had been present on Earth weeks ago for the meetings you had scheduled with the president and the security council, the outcome of the council’s deliberations might have been different.”
“I might have come to Earth per those plans, had I believed the council to be persuadable. And had the post-Shinzon Romulan-Reman political landscape left the Unification movement in less desperate need of my direct guidance.”
Riker wondered briefly why the ambassador hadn’t had any official communication with anyone in the Federation for more than seven weeks, his disagreements with the council notwithstanding. Then he decided that Spock, who had somehow maintained a subterranean existence on Romulus through four praetorships and the assassination of an emperor, knew better than anyone when it wasn’t safe to put one’s head up.
“We’re here to help calm down the political landscape, Mr. Ambassador,” Riker said. “By doing everything we can to build an understanding between all the competing Romulan and Reman factions.”
His right eyebrow rising, Spock looked toward Riker. “Curious, Captain. The Federation Council decides to cease supporting Unification, the one political movement on Romulus that holds the greatest hope of achieving lasting peace. Then, in place of that support, it sends a flotilla of armed ships.”
Riker shook his head. “Ambassador, this is a relief convoy. Not an attack wing.”
�
��And we are operating our ‘flotilla’ out in the open,” Akaar pointed out, “rather than continuing a program to covertly run supplies to what can only be described as an illegal dissident group.”
“Indeed,” Spock said, nodding and steepling his fingers before him. “However, the distinction you have drawn might be too subtle for either the Romulan or Reman eye.”
“I think you may be selling these people short, Mr. Ambassador,” Deanna said. “Particularly the Romulans.”
“Not at all, Commander Troi. In fact, I believe I understand Romulan psychology far better than anyone else here. Paranoia is etched deeply into their culture and character. Why else would the large star map that adorns the floor of the Romulan Senate make such a prominent display of the Neutral Zone, the symbol of everything that either inhibits or threatens the Romulan Empire?”
Riker watched Deanna silently concede the point, and had to admit himself that Spock’s observation made sense. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Federation Council, for all its good intentions, might not have taken this component of Romulan psychology sufficiently into account.
Spock turned to address Riker. “Colonel Xiomek tells me that your convoy appears to consist of four Starfleet vessels, accompanied by three heavily armed Klingon warships.”
“That’s correct,” Riker said.
“And Titan is one of Starfleet’s twelve new Luna-class vessels, is she not?”
“Right again, Mr. Ambassador.” Riker wondered how the ambassador was able to stay so up to date on such relatively recent developments within Starfleet. Of course, he could have learned a great deal about the Luna-class starships being developed at Utopia Planitia during his most recent visit to Earth two years earlier.
“Which means,” Spock continued, “that Titan is hardly unarmed herself.”
Riker’s brow crumpled involuntarily into a frown. “If you’re aware of the Luna program, then you know that its purpose isn’t to wage war.”
“I understand, Captain. Just as I understand that good intentions are necessary but insufficient requirements for success here.”
Titan, Book One Page 24
