The insistent ringing of the commlink forced me to consciousness in what felt like the middle of the night. I groped for my dressing-gown and stumbled towards the terminal. Good luck rather than good aim enabled me to hit the audio-only answer key on the first try.
"Morning, ma'am," said the polite voice. "Ms Uhura is here to see you."
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, as if that would somehow help me to hear better. "I beg your pardon?"
"Ms Uhura, ma'am. From Starfleet. Here to see you."
I couldn't seem to focus on the terminal's chrono display. "What time is it?" I said stupidly.
"Almost eight a.m., ma'am. Should I send her up?"
"Yes, of course." Still half asleep, I managed to propel myself to the bathroom. A quick cleaning of my teeth seemed to help a little, as did a facecloth wrung out in icy water and applied to my puffy eyes. My hair needed much more than a few seconds' attention, so I ignored it and went to welcome my guest.
Uhura was burdened with an assortment of bags and parcels and traveling-cases. She dropped them in a heap on the floor and bent to take off her boots. "I woke you, didn't I? I'm sorry. I'm still on Greenwich time."
"It doesn't matter. I should be up anyway." So that I might pretend I have something to do or somewhere to be ... I was about to make a flippant reference to the number of parcels she was carrying, but the look on her face caused me to think twice. "Nyota, are you all right?"
She shook her head, then suddenly hugged me with all her human strength; I returned the embrace gently, so as not to damage her. "My God, Aerlyn," she said, clinging to my hands. "I heard one of those peace demonstrators make a speech about you on the in-flight news. Why didn't you tell me? How can they think of--I don't even want to say it! And for something that wasn't your fault? Is this what passes for law on your planet?"
"Come, Nyota," I said, trying to calm her. "That's uncalled for. Romulan laws are drafted to protect individual and communal rights." Or so I'd been told numerous times by Venn, usually when he was in his cups and trying to rationalize his choice of profession. In reality, I'd never come into personal contact with the Romulan justice system, and wasn't looking forward to doing so. "Please don't be upset. I promise you that demonstrator doesn't know what he's talking about."
"He said that if you were sent back home, you'd be sentenced to--"
"Never mind. I can guess what he said."
"Is it true, Aerlyn? Just tell me that. When you go home, are they going to execute you because of what happened with the cloaking device? "
"Nyota," I said, holding her cold hands in mine, "don't you remember the day we discussed this? You said that losing my command was the worst thing that could happen. And you were right; it was and is the very worst thing. Whatever additional punishment the Senate might see fit to impose on me is nothing in comparison with the loss of my ship and crew. Any commander, including Captain Kirk, would agree with me." I wanted to say that my prospects were not as grim as she imagined, but that would have required an explanation of my part in planning Adjuvant's mission, something I had no intention of disclosing. Still, Uhura, like Tilendi, might be content with a grain of truth ... "Have you had breakfast?"
"Breakfast?" She seemed surprised by the change of subject. "No, not yet. I came straight here from the shuttleport."
"Then let's make a pot of coffee and prepare some food while we talk. Things may not be so hopeless as you think."
* * *
"My father is a respected scholar," I said. "That counts for something in the Empire." I watched Uhura spread butter on a muffin, then followed her example. "His Senate seat has been held by the family for six generations. My mother is a commander-general in the Romulan Fleet. My sister governs an important colony system. My brother is a war hero, decorated twice by the Senate and once by the imperial praetor himself. So you see, they are not without influence." It occurred to me fleetingly that I was trying to reassure myself as much as Uhura. "They will stand by me."
"But is their support going to be enough?" She appeared much calmer now, and ready to discuss the subject dispassionately. "The man who made the speech said that you'd probably be charged with dereliction of duty, and under Romulan law that's a capital crime."
"This person apparently thinks himself well versed in our jurisprudence. Who is he?"
"I don't remember his name. He's a law professor at Sturgis College."
"With all respect, Nyota, he hasn't a clue about the complexities of Romulan justice."
"Maybe, but he knows how to make a political issue out of your repatriation. The Federation isn't going to send you back to Romulus if there's even a chance that you'll be sentenced to death."
"Elydex said that they would try to keep me here somehow. I suppose this is what she meant."
"Well, she'll be able to give you more reliable information than I can. All I know is that these peace activists are stirring up the whole capital-punishment issue, and the Federation Council is going to have to respond."
I didn't like the sound of that. "Respond in what way?"
"I think first they'll refuse outright to send you back, and if that causes too much trouble with your government they'll offer you political asylum and try every way they know to make you accept it."
I stared at her. "You can't be serious."
"Just a guess."
"There is nothing--nothing--the Council could say or do that would make me defect to the Federation. Surely they know that."
"But they have to try, Aerlyn. Even if they're doing it for the wrong reasons--because of pressure from Starfleet or because they're afraid their constituents will boot them out of office, or whatever--they have to try. They can't send you back home to your death, especially when this whole mess was caused by Starfleet in the first place. This is the Federation."
Out of respect for my guest, I kept my opinion of the Federation to myself. "Nyota, please try to look at this logically. I've told you that my family will intercede for me with the Senate, and my colleagues will stand with me. If the Council tries to detain me after the inquiry is over, the Empire is likely to escalate this ... this mess to the point of all-out war. Your people will be doing more harm than good if they insist on keeping me here."
"Then what will happen if--when you go back?"
I'd given that question a good deal of thought while working out the proposal I intended to make to Spock. "I will be relieved of my command, of course. Then some or all of my property will be confiscated and a short sentence of banishment imposed." I reached for my coffee mug and took a long swallow. "That ought to satisfy the Senate that justice, duty, and honor have been adequately served." That, and the lucky disappearance of Al-Diraj.
"How can you be so casual about this? You're telling me that you're going to lose everything!"
"Not everything. Consider the alternative."
"I am considering the alternative! A different alternative! Aerlyn, would it really be so awful to stay here?"
"It's out of the question, Nyota. Suppose that I did stay here. I would still lose my command, my property on Romulus would still be confiscated by the Senate, and my sentence of banishment would merely be self-imposed. But my family and friends would be disgraced and very probably imprisoned or even killed, because the Senate would feel that someone must be punished for my defection. By going home and standing trial I have at least a chance of protecting them."
"But what if you had a reason to ... look, I know this might not be the right time to bring it up, but--remember when we were all together on Christmas night, and you--" She broke off abruptly at the sound of the comm chime.
I excused myself and went to the terminal, expecting to greet Tilendi or Elydex; instead, I was confronted by a very red, very human face wearing a familiar scowl.
"Good morning, Dr. McCoy," I said.
"You sound like you were expecting to hear from me," he muttered.
"Let us say I am not surprised."
"Listen, I want to talk to you."
"Then please continue."
"I mean in person. Right now. Can I come over?"
"You are always welcome, Doctor. Will you transport?"
"No, I'm gonna walk over from the OC. Clear my head. See you in fifteen minutes."
* * *
My dressing-gown might have been passably appropriate for receiving Uhura, but it wouldn't do for McCoy; I changed into an ankle-length skirt and a long-sleeved black tunic that set off the hematite pendant Uhura had given me. While we waited for McCoy to arrive, we replenished the plate of muffins and refilled the coffee pot. I glanced at the terminal's chrono display, noted in passing the shockingly early hour, and placed three crystal tumblers and a bottle of Bunnahabhain on a tray.
Uhura had apparently decided not to pursue the question of what might or might not have happened on Christmas night, which was just as well; I wasn't feeling up to having that particular conversation. And neither she nor I made any further mention of my return to Romulus, for we both knew that the topic would soon be reopened.
McCoy did not disappoint us. He was barely inside the door before he launched into a stream of invective that would have done a Klingon portmaster proud. His abuse was directed equally at Starfleet, the Federation Council, the anti-war demonstrators, and everything and everyone connected with the Romulan Empire, including me.
"Now just a minute, Len," Uhura said, frowning. "It isn't as if she has any say in the matter."
"The hell she hasn't!" His scowl was ferocious. "She can do just what that guy said in his speech. She can stay here, where she'll be safe!"
"You needn't refer to me in the third person," I said, looking from one to the other. "And Lieutenant Uhura will tell you, Doctor, that I have good and sufficient reason for returning to Romulus as soon as possible."
"What reason? You got a death wish, Commander? You like the idea of ten days of torture topped off with--"
"Len, that's enough!" Uhura shouted. "Stop it!" For an instant I thought she might strike McCoy. Evidently he thought so too: he subsided at once.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that." He lowered himself onto the sofa and stared down at his hands, now knotted into fists. "I got a bad conscience, and I shouldn't be takin' it out on anybody else." He looked up at me, his eyes bleak. "Least of all you."
"I accept your apology, Doctor." I turned to Uhura, who looked ready to cry, and decided that someone had better assume command in a hurry. "Lieutenant," I said gently, "would you mind bringing in the coffee and muffins? Doctor, may I ask you to open this bottle for me? I think we could all use a drink of your favorite whisky."
* * *
"Ironic, isn't it?" McCoy said, twirling his glass and staring glumly at the contents. "You're the one who's gotta go home and stand trial for your life because of something that deserves maybe a docked payslip and a slap on the wrist, and yet you end up holding our hands and telling us that everything's gonna be all right."
"And it's just as I have told you, Doctor. My family and colleagues will stand by me, and the chances are good that their influence will carry weight with the Senate." In fact, I was tired of telling him: I'd had to repeat my speech of reassurance after McCoy calmed down enough to listen to me. If nothing else, this episode had confirmed me in my belief that I would never understand these humans, whose conception of honor differed so radically from my own. A slap on the wrist. Their attitude was puzzling, frustrating, and--though I would never admit it aloud--touching. Looking at the two of them, I felt a surge of mingled annoyance and affection. They cared about me, only the gods of Remus knew why. More astonishing than that, I was beginning to think that I cared about them.
"Saw Jim this morning," McCoy said. "He told me he talked to you last night. Bet he had a thing or two to say about this."
"He was angry. At the Empire, and at himself."
"Yeah ... there's more than one bad conscience around the Officers' Club these days." McCoy was silent for a moment. "Jim's not gonna let you go without a fight, you know. He likes you and he respects you, and he feels responsible for the pickle you're in."
That actually made me laugh. "Doctor, he is responsible for the pickle I'm in."
"Touché." McCoy raised his glass.
"Let me rephrase that. He is responsible for his actions, as I am for mine. My culpability lies in my own negligence. The charge of dereliction of duty is justified, and it's only logical that I should be called to account for it."
Apparently I had said the wrong thing. "Damn it!" McCoy's voice rose. "I don't want to hear logical! This isn't about logic! It's about your life! You can't tell me Romulan and Vulcan brains aren't built the same! Your goddamn minds work just alike! Weigh this, balance that, solve the equation, step back, don't for God's sake let any feeling enter into it or you might--"
"Len." Uhura's soft voice interrupted him. "You're not being fair, and you know it. And this isn't helping."
As suddenly as it had flared, McCoy's anger faded. He rubbed his eyes, and I noticed for the first time how tired he looked. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry. Blowin' off steam. He smiled crookedly at me. "And yes, ma'am, I do remember that we agreed to disagree."
"Then may we also agree to abandon discussion of this subject, at least for the time being?"
"We can't just stand by and do nothing--" McCoy began.
"Let's drop this," Uhura said quickly, shooting a warning glance at him. "We're not going to accomplish anything today, and not by ourselves. After all, the inquiry won't even begin until sometime in the new year." She turned and looked straight at me. "Anything could happen between now and then."
* * *
I had no time to reflect on Uhura's words. As soon as she and McCoy departed, another visitor arrived.
I opened the door for Elydex and nodded to the human security guard, whom I recognized; he made a nervous, uncertain gesture of greeting or salute towards both of us, then withdrew quickly. "Good morning, Counselor," I said, extending my hand. "I'm glad to see you." And I was: I had missed her visits over the past few days.
"And I you." The suction pads on her fingertips were cool against my wrist. "You look a little pale. Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I just haven't been sleeping very well. Please, sit down."
She sat, placing herself on the very edge of the sofa. "I won't keep you long. I am on my way to meet with Ambassador Tilendi and Counselor Venn. I wanted to look in on you first."
"Venn is eager to talk to you," I said. "Something to do with his research. Don't ask me for the details, though. He lost me in the first two minutes of his explanation."
I sensed rather than saw her smile. "His diligence is appreciated. We have a good deal of work ahead of us. I hadn't planned to see him until Friday, but I was called back from San Francisco to appear on behalf of my ministry at a press conference this morning."
"A press conference? Why would you want to talk to the press?"
"I cannot say that I want to, Commander. But the recent demonstrations have created a serious public relations problem for the Federation and for Starfleet, and we must do what we can to defuse the issue." She tilted her head questioningly. "Did you watch the news yesterday?"
"No. But from what Captain Kirk said, the speeches were highly inflammatory. He was very upset."
"Perhaps I shouldn't have given him permission to see you at such a late hour. But he was indeed upset, and I was reluctant to deny his request. I am sorry if his visit caused you any distress."
"Believe me, I wasn't the one who was distressed. How can a military officer be so naive? Surely he would have had to face some kind of sanction if he were in my position."
"But not a capital sanction. In the Federation, imposition of the death penalty is viewed as the ultimate barbarism. And it didn't help that the speaker's rhetoric was rather ... graphic."
"I know. I've just had a conversation about Romulan justice with McCoy and Uhura."
With the suggestion of a sigh, she murmured: "That must have been difficult."
"I tried to make them understand that it's a matter of balancing accounts. I told them that I owe a debt of honor to my family and my crew."
Her tone was carefully neutral, as always. "Perhaps, Commander, the Romulan Senate might accept that there is more than one way to discharge such a debt. By payment in kind, for example."
Telling myself that she couldn't know--couldn't possibly know--I tried to keep my own voice blandly noncommittal: "I don't follow you, Counselor."
"Ah," she said softly. "Just so. Well, in any case, you should be prepared to listen to more rhetoric from all parties for the next while. Once Ambassador Sarek convenes his inquiry, though, that will come to an end. Sarek will not tolerate any political posturing in or out of the hearing room."
"Am I supposed to be preparing somehow for this interrogation?"
"You are merely a witness in these proceedings, Commander, just as the officers of the Enterprise are. No one is on trial yet. The commissioners will expect you to recount only those facts of which you have firsthand knowledge."
"What kinds of questions will they ask me?"
"Essentially, they will require a chronology and description of events from the moment your ship's sensors detected the Enterprise until you were taken into custody aboard her."
That was exactly what I didn't want to hear. "I don't suppose they would permit me to make a written statement? A deposition or an affidavit?"
"You are a material witness. Unless illness precludes your appearing in person, it isn't likely that you'll receive such a dispensation."
"And what if I'm asked a question I don't want to answer?"
"As to that, Commander, you needn't concern yourself. Venn and I will ensure that their questions remain strictly on point. Your name may be spoken aloud--there is no way to avoid it--but your privacy will not be invaded in any other respect." She laid her hand on my arm and added, "I myself will reassure Commander Spock on this matter, if you like." In the dark depths of her eyes I saw understanding, and perhaps even compassion. I wanted to close my own eyes, to withdraw from her touch, but found that I lacked the will to do either.
"Some people say that Reticulans are precognitive." I could hear the tremor in my voice, but I was powerless to control it. "I think 'clairvoyant' must be a more accurate term."
"And the literal meaning of that term is 'seeing clearly,' Commander, nothing more. I should hesitate to ascribe any mystical significance to it. When you next speak with Commander Spock, ask him about the basic schema of the Vulcan control disciplines. Specifically, get him to show you some of the techniques he uses to regulate the outward manifestation of inward thought. As I told you when we were on the Enterprise, your expressions are easy to read."
© 1996, 1999 Kathleen Dailey. All rights reserved.