“This is a spectacular view,” Sisko said. Though he found the air a bit cold, the sheer rock walls apparently protected the balcony from the wind.
“So much of Achernar Prime is beautiful, Captain,” Donatra said. She had moved to the railing, where she stood gazing out at the sea. “But this is not home.” She turned to face Sisko. “Vela’Setora is home,” she said, offering up the name of a major Romulan city. “Romulus is home.”
“I understand,” Sisko said.
“Do you?” Donatra asked. “You said it was ‘evident’ that Tal’Aura wants to unite the two Romulan empires. I infer from that statement that you do not believe I want the two empires united.”
“I did not mean to imply that, Empress,” Sisko said. “But because yours is the—” The word breakaway occurred to him, but he discarded it. “—newer nation, that would suggest that any uniting of the two would favor Tal’Aura’s government.”
“That is what she would have people believe,” Donatra said. “Do you know of the unity protests throughout the empires?”
“I learned of them just this morning,” Sisko said. “I understand that they’ve been going on for a couple of days now.”
“They have been staged for a few days, yes,” Donatra said.
“‘Staged’?”
“By Tal’Aura,” Donatra said. “The protests call for one empire, under her rule.”
“I understood that the protestors spoke out against both you and Tal’Aura.”
“There are token objections to Tal’Aura, but most of the remonstrations target me,” Donatra said. “Even within the Imperial Romulan State, where most of the people have supported me. Even here on Achernar Prime.”
Sisko knew that he needed to tread lightly. He did not want to anger Donatra enough that she sent him back to Robinson without learning what he had come here to learn. “Is it possible,” he asked carefully, “that public opinion has changed?”
“Of course it’s possible,” said Donatra. “But it’s not what’s actually happened. Public opinion didn’t change to support Tal’Aura; she’s using these protests to drive public opinion.”
“So you’re opposed to such dissent?” Sisko asked.
“I am opposed to Tal’Aura’s political agenda masquerading as public dissent,” Donatra said.
Something occurred to Sisko, and he thought he could follow it to where he needed to go. “Empress, do you recall a man named R’Jul?”
A puzzled expression dressed Donatra’s face. “R’Jul?” she said. “No, the name does not sound familiar.”
“He was a security officer in the Romulan Imperial Fleet,” Sisko said, studying Donatra’s reactions. “He served aboard the Valdore, eventually getting promoted to chief of security.”
“As the commander of Valdore, I would know my own crew, Captain,” she said. “I had two chiefs of security during my command of the ship, both of them women, neither of them named R’Jul.” She paced over to where he stood and looked him in the eyes. “Why do you believe otherwise?”
“That is the information I was given,” Sisko said.
“Obviously,” said Donatra. “But why is it important that you convey that information to me?”
Sisko looked away from the empress and moved past her, walking over to the edge of the balcony. Farther from the cliff walls, the wind felt stronger. Sisko gazed out at the waters of the Verinex Sea and debated how he should proceed. He found that he judged Donatra’s reactions as genuine, and so he opted to tell her the truth. “A man named R’Jul may have killed an assassin some months ago on Romulus.”
“And because you believe this R’Jul connected to me,” Donatra reasoned, “you naturally think that I am also connected to the assassin . . . that I had the assassin silenced in order to prevent that connection from becoming known.”
“If you knew R’Jul,” Sisko said, “it would logically follow, yes.”
Donatra shook her head, an aura of melancholy suddenly about her. “Assassination has played a strong role in Romulan politics for a long time,” she said. “Too much of a role, and for too long.” She paused, as though considering something. “Believe me when I tell you that I would not shed a tear if Tal’Aura died tomorrow. But the violence and self-interest plaguing the Romulan government must end. I did not order an assassination of Tal’Aura, or the killing of the assassin.”
Again, Sisko believed her, and this time he said so. “But the assassin did not attempt to kill Tal’Aura,” he said. “He attempted to kill Spock.”
“Ambassador Spock?” Donatra said, seemingly surprised. “Of the Federation?”
“Yes.”
“Why would somebody want Spock dead?” Donatra asked. “It was my understanding that Tal’Aura had decriminalized his Reunification Movement.”
“The praetor did so to allow the public discussion of reunifying Romulan and Vulcan societies,” Sisko explained, “in order to impel the public discussion of uniting the two empires.”
“That is logical, but—” She stopped as something apparently struck her. “If you believe that public dialogue of uniting all Romulans favors Tal’Aura, and if you believe that Spock’s Reunification Movement would aid such dialogue, then . . . are you accusing me of plotting Spock’s assassination?”
“I am accusing you of nothing,” Sisko said. “I am simply trying to understand what’s happening on Romulus.”
“Will there be repercussions for the death of a Federation citizen?” Donatra asked. “Is President Bacco considering revoking the Federation’s recognition of the Imperial Romulan State?”
Sisko could see that the possibility of losing the amity of the Federation troubled Donatra. And why wouldn’t it? Sisko thought. Without the Federation, she would be left with no major supporters beyond the Klingons. “I am not privy to the policy making at the Palais de la Concorde. But Ambassador Spock survived the assassination attempt.”
Donatra nodded. “That’s good, but . . . yes, that must be it,” she said, visibly upset now. “Details are being manipulated to make it look like I had something to do with trying to kill a Federation ambassador. Tal’Aura is trying to discredit me, to weaken the Imperial State so that she can reclaim it for her own. That is why she’s driving these protests: to ease the transition.”
The argument made sense to Sisko, predicated on whether or not Donatra spoke the truth. He continued to believe that she did. “I’ll make a report of what you’ve told me,” he said.
“Check whatever records you can find on R’Jul and the Valdore,” Donatra said. “You should be able to discover that they’ve been falsified.”
“I’ll make a note of that,” Sisko said. “Thank you for your time and candor, Empress.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
Sisko started toward the door, but Donatra stepped into his path. “Captain Benjamin Sisko,” she said, her manner extremely serious, “please understand that I do want a united Romulan Empire, but under just leadership. I will not do what is unjust to make that happen.”
“But what will you do?”
“I don’t know,” Donatra said. “Even if they’re driven by Tal’Aura, these protests will eventually undermine my support. I don’t have enough resources either to occupy all the worlds of the Imperial State, or to launch an attack on Tal’Aura.”
“You also just said that you would not do what is unjust to bring about unity,” Sisko pointed out. “Neither occupying worlds nor attacking Romulus is just.”
“No,” Donatra agreed. “But without additional military aid, I will not be able to keep the Imperial State intact.”
Sisko understood what the empress wanted, but he could not provide it for her. “I have no authority to offer military aid,” he said. “But even if I did, I can tell you, because President Bacco told me, that the Federation will under no circumstances engage itself militarily in a Romulan civil war.”
“Then the Imperial Romulan State will fall.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
>
“Would you at least report the situation to President Bacco?” Donatra asked. “Will you tell her what I need?”
“I will,” Sisko said, “but I wouldn’t wait for military assistance.”
Visibly distraught, Donatra turned and walked toward the edge of the balcony. For an instant, Sisko envisioned her throwing herself into the sea, and he took a step toward her to prevent that from happening. Instead, she simply stood there with her hands on the railing, her hair blowing in the wind, her gaze fixed on the vast ocean before her.
His mission complete, and with nothing more he could do, Sisko headed for the door. He would return to the reception area at the top of the cliff, transport back to Robinson, bring the ship back to Federation space, and make his report. He left Empress Donatra of the Imperial Romulan State standing there, unsure how much longer either would last.
30
Gell Kamemor, designated elder of the Ortikant clan, entered the library of her family’s ancient stronghold. When she had done so almost two hundred seventy-five days ago, she had held on to a sense of hope, a feeling that the praetor’s appeal to reconstitute the Senate could mark a positive turning point for Romulus. As she crossed the threshold into the library this time, though, personal sadness filled her, along with an overall despair that her people would never find the right leadership to guide them out of the wilderness.
Inside, she saw far fewer than the seventeen members of the clan she expected. Several of those who had deliberated previously about who the Ortikant should send to the Senate had clearly been asked to return this time: Ren Callonen, Roval D’Jaril, and Anlikar Ventel, the grandson of Kamemor’s sister. She could describe the other six present as genuine clan elders, all of them much farther along in years than she. While Kamemor welcomed the voices of experience, it made little sense to her that she had not been invited to stand aside so that one of the true elders could preside over the gathering.
As Kamemor stepped up to the head of the large conference table, the two people not already seated quickly took their places. At the far end of the room, the great stone hearth functioned as static decoration only, the warm temperatures outside making a fire unnecessary. The air inside the library felt close, despite the room’s large size. As always, the scent of old paper filled the space.
“Jolan tru,” said Kamemor after she had taken her seat. Then she bowed her head and offered the family benediction. “Ihir ul hfihar rel ch’Rihan. Ihir ul Ortikant. Ihir dren v’talla’tor, plek Rihannsu r’talla’tor.” When she raised her gaze to the others, she saw each of them waiting expectantly.
“We have come together today in the face of tragedy,” she said, her voice low and even. Although everybody present surely knew what had happened, if not all the details, tradition and her own sense of decorum dictated that she honor the lost by recognizing the terrible events. “Three days ago, Senator Xarian Dor collapsed on the floor of the Senate. The Hall of State’s medical staff arrived immediately and administered life-saving techniques, without result. Senator Dor was rushed to Ki Baratan Medical Center, where he was pronounced dead upon his arrival.” Kamemor felt pressure behind her eyes as she fought not to weep.
“An autopsy confirmed no sign of violence perpetrated against him,” she continued. “Death occurred as the result of Velderix Riehn’va.” The virulent disease, often called The Usurper, struck at the arteries in the brain, weakening their walls and resulting in multiple aneurysms. Left undiscovered and untreated, ruptures typically occurred and resulted in instantaneous loss of life. “The doctors report that death for Senator Dor was immediate. All other members of the Senate, as well as their staffs, have subsequently been tested for the disease. Fortunately, Senator Dor’s appears to be an isolated case.”
Kamemor paused to take a breath and settle her emotions. “This loss is a tragedy not just for our family but for the Romulan people. This young senator, with his sharp mind and absolute dedication to duty, held within him the promise of a brighter future for all of Romulus. Many, myself included, expected that he would rise quickly through the Senate, and then through the Continuing Committee, and that he might one day lead the Romulan Star Empire as its praetor. His loss, in our hearts and in our government, leaves a void not easily filled.” Kamemor saw a dazed expression on the face of Anlikar Ventel, and suspected that she wore a similar visage.
“As difficult as it may be,” Kamemor said, “it now falls to us to find a suitable successor for Xarian Dor in the Senate. Though it will be impossible to replace his—”
“Gell.”
Kamemor stopped, but so quietly had her name been uttered, she could not even tell if she had imagined it. She peered at the members of the Ortikant around the table, and when her eyes found Minlah Orfitel, the grande dame of the family spoke again. “Gell,” she said, “I would ask that you voluntarily stand aside so that I may lead the clan representatives through our obligations.”
Kamemor required no further prompting than that to relinquish her duties. She stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor as she pushed it back. “I withdraw at once,” she said. She stepped aside and waited for Orfitel to take her place. The revered old woman, three-quarters of the way through her second century, with a heavily lined face and a mass of thinning gray hair, rose slowly from her seat. When she arrived at the head of the table, Kamemor helped her into the chair.
Once Kamemor had taken her own place, Orfitel began to speak. “I want to thank Gell for presiding over the gathering to this point, and for taking over such duties when we first needed to name a new senator.” She looked over at Kamemor, who forced a wan smile in return.
“As Gell has said, we must choose another member of the Ortikant to serve as senator,” Orfitel went on. “A number of significant issues face Romulus. Tal’Aura and Donatra have divided our empire, and public opinion continues to grow that we must take action to unite all Romulans. We also must meet the challenges of dealing with our new alliances as a member of the Typhon Pact. And of course, there are always the interests of the Ortikant.” Orfitel peered down the table to another of the elders. “Velephor, would you address that last point?”
Velephor, nearly as old as Orfitel but without a touch of gray in his hair, nodded. “Over the past three days, I and other members of our clan have met with business partners old and new. The general consensus among them leans heavily toward stability. They would eschew war with the Klingons and the Federation, as well as martial engagement with our own people, even should they remain under Donatra’s control. The Typhon Pact presents us with strong alliances both military and economic, but since the governments manage, fund, and supply the various fleets, we stand nothing to gain if we go to war, and much to lose.”
When Velephor finished, Orfitel looked over at Kamemor. “What do you think of that, Gell?”
The question nonplussed Kamemor for a moment. She did not understand why she was being singled out among those assembled, but then realized that Orfitel sought to relieve any slight Kamemor might have felt when the elder had taken charge of the gathering. “I concur,” she said, “but for more than simply economic reasons. I think that the actions of government possess a moral component. I am well aware that the history of the Empire is rife with violence, much of it justifiable, but we do not necessarily have to kill in order to provide an environment in which our citizens can have full, satisfying lives. From a practical standpoint, it is impossible to keep people satisfied if they have lost their lives in battle.”
“So you would leave the Empire divided in two,” Orfitel asked, “rather than risk the lives of Romulans?”
“I would, but not because I don’t desire a united Empire,” Kamemor said. “But I judge that all that will be required for unity are vigilance and patience. We have already seen citizens filling public squares across both Romulan states. It seems inevitable that a time will soon come when no choice will remain but that of a single Empire. Our people will see to that themselves.”
/> “And what of the Typhon Pact?” Orfitel asked.
The elder’s continued attention made Kamemor feel uncomfortable, but she could hardly refuse to respond. “I am in favor of the Pact,” she said. “I believe that the alliance will benefit Romulus in many ways. Certainly, the strength of a large coalition brings with it robust military and economic protections, but in addition, our people—and even our government—will find opportunities for new relationships, new experiences, and new challenges. We can teach our new partners many things, and from them, we can also learn many things.”
Orfitel nodded, apparently satisfied with Kamemor’s replies. The elder stood up once more, her hands steadying her along the edge of the table. “Gell Kamemor has lived her life in service of the Romulan people. She has served as a diplomat, as a teacher, as a military liaison, and as a governmental leader, managing both a city and then a territory. She is a Romulan loyalist, but not an apologist, and forthright in her politics.” She gazed over at Kamemor, who felt as though she’d suddenly been caught in the headlamp of an oncoming maglev. “There can be no better choice for the Ortikant, and for all of Romulus, than to select Gell Kamemor as our next senator.”
The maglev in Kamemor’s imagination proceeded to run over her. “Elder Orfitel,” she said, but her words went unacknowledged.
“I ask for an appointment by acclamation,” Orfitel said. “Is there any opposition?”
Kamemor looked up and down the table, almost willing somebody to speak. Nobody said a word. She opened her own mouth to object, to say that she had retired from public life and that she had no desire to return to government. She wanted to vow that even if appointed she would not serve. But then she stopped short of doing so. She felt the weight of her societal obligation, but more than that, she understood that serving as senator would provide her the opportunity and the responsibility to set the agenda for her people—an agenda that, some time ago, had gone badly awry.
Star Trek: Typhon Pact: Rough Beasts of Empire Page 25