The Sarpeidon Chronicles Part 6

Fan fiction only. No copyright infringement intended. +

Chapter 7

The pain in his stomach came and went, and at times Selyk almost felt capable of rolling himself off the bed and forcing himself to take a few steps across the room. Then, just as quickly, the numbness would snake through his limbs again, and the buzz in his head would force him back down into the pillows.

When his vision was clear, he could gaze through the open door that led to the outer room of the cabin. There, someone was always set up to act as his guard and attendant, bringing him water and whatever bland foods he could keep down.

Sometimes Jarrod came, sometimes Jarrod's mistress. "Don't worry," they said to him when he longed, aloud, for death. "It's just temporary." He knew that by the time he recovered, Starfleet would be there to take him into custody. And he would be able to do absolutely nothing about it.

Weak—so weak, in body and spirit alike. They'd tempted him with sweet-tasting poison and he, like all the others, had given in to it so easily. Now, as if to deepen his shame, they'd set only an elderly human man to guard him. Worse still, Selyk himself knew he had no chance of prevailing in a fight. Every time he tried to stir, his mind swam and his limbs seemed to melt against the bedclothes. Before long, he'd be lost in one bizarre daydream or another, only to be jarred awake by the incessant prodding in his guts.

At first, when he saw the room's single window being wrenched open and a figure crawling through it, he assumed it was just another of his many hallucinations. But that was before impatient hands clutched his shirtfront and pulled him up into a sitting position.

"They're here," Therov whispered in an urgent tone. "Starfleet. They've come for us."

"We have to go," Selyk replied groggily.

"Come on, then. I'll help you." Therov hoisted Selyk off the bed and threw him over one shoulder, wrapping a muscular arm around his knees. They had started back toward the window when the old man, who had been dozing at a small table in the next room, spotted them through the open door and jumped to his feet.

"Hey!" He shouted. "You! Stop!"

Selyk was a little surprised to hear Therov bark out a laugh. They continued toward the window as Sandoval rushed into the room, reaching for Selyk as if to physically pull him out of Therov's grasp.

"Get off, would you?" the Andorian asked in an incongruously carefree tone. When the old man continued to grapple with them, Therov calmly swung around, never loosening his hold on Selyk, and brought his right hand down swiftly. The Romulan disruptor he clutched in his fingers made a cracking sound as it impacted with the side of Sandoval's head.

Then, suddenly, Selyk felt himself being hoisted out of the window. He hit the ground painfully, but what was a little discomfort compared to the prospect of being free again? Already Therov was dragging him toward the woods, where the two of them could take cover.

"It's strange to think how quickly this will all be over," Leila said as they trailed after the security contingent on its way to retrieve Selyk from his cabin. Behind them, the stricken Romulans were in the process of being transported to the Wellfleet's brigs. "It felt like years while we waited for our hybrids to grow…even longer for them to take effect."

"Time didn't exactly fly while we were taking care of them, either." Jarrod sighed. "In any case, your idea worked to perfection. Starfleet will probably issue you a commendation, at the very least."

"I'd rather they didn't. I wanted to save the colony, not develop a botanical weapon. We came here to do agronomic research. How did we ever stray so far off course?"

"I guess you have me to thank for that. They came because I was here."

"Surely you don't think anyone blames you. I know that I'm glad you found your way to us, even if there were unexpected consequences." As they walked, she reached out and touched his hand lightly; when he didn't respond, she let her fingers drop to her side again.

"That would be one way to put it." He didn't meet her eyes.

"It doesn't matter now. The Romulans will be gone soon, and things can get back to normal."

"No doubt." He kept silent for a while, then cleared his throat and spoke in a strained voice. "But, Leila…the Romulans won't be the only ones gone. When the Wellfleet leaves, I plan to be aboard. You know I wish you success in rebuilding the colony and continuing your research—you'll have it do it without me, though."

She clutched his sleeve and pulled him to a stop. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I need to go home for a while, given everything that's going on there. I'm also saying that I probably won't return to Gamma Aurelius. I think you can guess why."

The stricken look on her face filled him with pain he struggled not to feel, not to show. Had his father experienced the same ambivalence when he'd left her? Had she plied him with the same utterly desolate expression?

"I—I don't want to stay here without you," she finally choked out.

"Without some part of him, you mean." His eyes narrowed. "You still think of my father every time you look at me, don't you? I've known it for a long time—I just chose not to deal with the implications."

"There's no answer to that question that would please you. Even if I denied it, you'd accuse me of lying."

"And you would be. So don't."

They stared at each other until Leila's eyes turned as stony as his.

"Well, I can't make the decision for you. Go with your sister, if that's what you want. You may keep your regrets to yourself…as I will."

He was spared the necessity of replying by a shout from the cabin they'd been heading toward. Elias had emerged onto the porch, and the four security officers had rushed up the steps to meet him. He was clutching the side of his head with one hand. Even from a distance, they could see that blood oozed between his fingers.

"The Federation isn't bugging your cell," the prosecutor said, taking a perfunctory look around after he had waved Spock's guards away. Another solitary chess game was in progress; aside from the slight rearrangement of the pieces, everything was as it had been during their previous conversation a few hours earlier. "Embassy regulations forbid it, and in any case I have never requested it. We may speak freely, as before."

Spock hovered almost motionless over the chess pieces spread out before him. "Assuming, of course, that we have anything to speak about."

"I think we do. The Arbiter will make his ruling in less than forty-eight hours. T'Rhan will present a masterful argument on your behalf, I am certain, but we both know that you will be bound over for a formal trial. Certain outcomes are inevitable when it comes to political scandals."

"Perhaps."

"In a way, though, you might be relieved to end this ordeal. It's not as if you have much to return to, even if you were by some miracle acquitted. You can have no future with the Federation. The stain of accusation will always taint you—rightly, in my opinion, since we both know that you are beyond any and all doubt guilty."

Spock extended his right hand to sweep several pieces off the board, then briskly moved others into the vacated squares. "You appear to be giving your own summation prematurely."

"I prefer to think of it as a sort of divination—though I base my predictions on logic and not augury. As I see it, there is only one avenue by which you could hope to escape a lifetime of shame and imprisonment. That is to cultivate the favors of allies who are resourceful enough to physically remove you from Federation custody. It might not be the most ethical solution, but it could prove effective. Has T'Rhan suggested it yet? Never mind, you wouldn't tell me if she had. She has sufficient motive—but not, I fear, the sort of connections needed to effect a liberation of such magnitude."

"Presumably, though, you know of others who do."

"It is my duty to know. Over the course of my career, I have met and negotiated with operatives whose agendas even you might find shocking. I have done what I must to serve the Federation—but I have also served myself. Was that so wrong? I could have done what the rest of my people did: lay down quietly and sacrificed myself in the name of some nebulous code of ethnic honor. Instead, I chose a future for myself, and life for my family as well."

"I think I am beginning to understand why you have come to me."

Ahkafr continued as if he had not heard. "Some might have considered the price we paid for our lives to be exorbitant; in my eyes it was almost insultingly trivial. All I was asked to do was provide some then-unnamed favor to the Romulan war machine, if and when I found myself in a position to bestow one. At the time, the very notion seemed ludicrous. Yet somehow a destitute refugee, as I was, managed to gain not only respectability, but also the kind of authority I could never have dreamed of on my homeworld. I daresay someone was watching over me and ensuring my progress—I have never been able to determine who."

Spock frowned. "Indeed—such information would be most valuable," he mused. "In any event, I take it the Romulans have now called in this long-promised favor."

"They have. This should not come as a surprise—it is you. I am here to offer you safe passage to the Neutral Zone, where Romulan High Command stands ready to greet you. Time is short, of course. You will leave tonight, while everyone is preoccupied with the arrangements for your final evidentiary hearing."

"Why are you—and they—offering me this? Obviously, the risks are substantial."

"They are not as great as you might think. I, of course, will have a firm alibi as I prepare to secure your conviction. In a way, I'm almost sorry my role will never be known—it would be impossible not to appreciate the irony. As for the Romulans, they have long believed that rebels often make the best allies. They commend you for sending them Selyk. He is a prize the Federation would never have recognized. The same goes for Therov, though he has proven himself a man of theory, rather than action. The Romulans are pragmatic above all else."

"Then it was you who disclosed the location of Therov's imprisonment. As a liaison for the Security Council, you would have access to that information."

The prosecutor shrugged. "Intelligence leaks happen all the time. I cannot be expected to stem them all. You should know that no one on the Security Council actually believes you were responsible for that particular transgression—however, it made sense to add that particular charge as a safeguard, in case the others proved impossible to substantiate. We didn't count on your wife's cooperation. I must be sure to thank her in person once you are gone."

Spock's solitary game continued, though his moves now proceeded more slowly. One by one, the tiny likenesses of Vulcan historical figures took their places along both sides of the board. "What is Sumarr's role? Has he participated in your machinations at all?"

"Sumarr? No—that fool is one of the most misguided souls I've encountered in all my years among your people. He is actually misguided enough to love the Federation and all it has supposedly done for him. Luckily, his son—and you and I—know better. Now, let us conclude this before your attendants return. Let me help you. The Romulans have been generous to me—they will be with you as well."

The game was almost over now; the only pieces remaining were a pawn, an armored knight astride a Sehlat, and the tallest figure, that of Surak, which still stood untouched in the king's position. "You are making me this offer in all sincerity?"

"I am."

"Very well." Spock nodded, pushed aside the knight and raised the figure of Surak to eye level. "In that case, I must tell you something. You are correct in that your prosecution team has not been allowed to install listening devices in this cell. T'Rhan made sure of that. However, no such constraint applies to the defense. With the cooperation of the Vulcan Embassy, I have made use of that provision." Spock turned over the Surak chess piece in his hand, removed its base, and spoke casually to the figurine. "I presume you have successfully recorded our exchange, Father?"

"Indeed I have," Sarek's voice issued clearly through the same channel. "A most useful innovation, though for obvious reasons we must hope that its deployment will not be a frequent event."

For a few moments, it appeared as though Ahkafr really was preparing to flee. His body tensed as soon as his shock began to wear off, and he turned toward the cell's entrance as if preparing to hurl himself through it. Embassy guards, however, were already gathering outside the forcefield.

"Generous though your offer is, I must decline," Spock said as they drew their weapons and trained them on the former prosecutor. "My position here, as it happens, is more secure than you have been led to believe."