ACT TWO
It had been a mistake to come here.
As he carefully picked his way across the packed streets of Coridan, Soval of Vulcan fought to contain a shiver. Dusk was approaching rapidly, and with it came a sharp wind that sliced through his thermal-weave clothes. One of the massive moons already loomed overhead, dominating the entire skyline with its rugged countenance. Light reflecting off of the satellite's surface bathed the entire valley with an incandescent brilliance that made Soval heave a sigh of relief. He had no desire to walk the remaining distance in the dark. With a disgruntled sigh, he began hiking forward once more, his every sense straining to locate any sound or movement that was out of place.
By all rights, he was supposed to be aboard a human ship creeping along toward Earth, not shivering on a planet many light years in the opposite direction. The muscles in his legs and back burned in protest as he traversed the poorly maintained road, but he paid them no mind. In the past fifty Standard days, Soval had become accustomed to discomfort.
Mere minutes after he departed the safe house, a team of armored assault troops stormed the shop, prompting Soval to abandon his plan to seek passage on the Tesmur Sa-fu. It was likely – probable, in fact – that a team would be waiting to seize him if he illogically showed up at the human ship when it was clear that they were onto his trail. He continued toward the starport, however, quickening his pace slightly even though he knew it would draw unwanted attention.
Another team of assault troops was waiting at the entrance to the starport, arguing with the local authorities about jurisdiction. Soval's name was never mentioned, but he knew that the "dangerous criminal" the armored troopers were pursuing was him. He frowned at the implication that T'Pau might be involved in this, and wondered briefly what exactly he had stumbled onto. Yuris had discovered something about the two children, something that could clearly shake the entire foundation of the Vulcan culture. Not since the revelation that V'Las had been behind the bombing of the human embassy had Soval been this troubled.
He narrowly avoided a third team of troops prowling the starport when he made a less than legal entrance through an unsecured side door. Donning the stolen uniform of a cargo inspection officer from a wall locker, he skirted the third team's notice and very nearly walked into the hands of a fourth. It was only by random happenstance that the trio of armored Vulcans missed him; a crate bearing bulky cargo passed between the two. It took Soval nearly six minutes to calm his heart rate after that narrow miss.
Escaping from the planet had actually been much easier than anticipated. A Coridan trader who recognized Soval from an ambassadorial conference quickly offered to transport him offworld. Within hours, they were racing away from Vulcan at warp six, and Soval finally let himself relax slightly. His worry returned when the Coridan trader revealed that Vulcan authorities had, in fact, warned him to be on the lookout for Soval. It was quite fortuitous that Soval's reputation among the Coridans was as positive as it was.
The whine of an aircar passing overhead nearly caused Soval to dive for cover; it was only his rigid self-control that allowed him to conceal his reaction. Nevertheless, he increased his pace slightly, barely hiding the grimace of pain that crossed his face as his muscles protested even more. No one appeared to give him a second thought as he strode through the streets, despite the fact that his clothes clearly marked him as an offworlder.
After entirely too much physical contact with distracted and busy Coridanites, Soval reached his destination. An intricately carved door constructed of solid duranium was the only indication that he had arrived at the Coridan Central Library. There were no signs or markers displayed, and Soval sighed at the illogic of such a decision.
He applied only the lightest of pressure to the immense door, but it opened without a sound, prompting Soval to give the frail-looking hinges a look of surprised approval. Had he not witnessed it, he would have doubted that the decorated bands of metal could support such weight. It should not have been a surprise, though; the Coridanites had a reputation for creative engineering.
Once past the doorway, he paused in appreciation of the muted silence that hung over the library. The room was much larger than one would suspect, with high domed ceilings that accentuated the appealing architecture. Rows and rows of archaic books lent the chamber an air of timelessness that the suspended hover-lamps only enhanced.
Seated before an immense grimoire, supported by an equally large display stand, was the object of Soval's ill-advised expedition. Once, nearly a century earlier, they had served together in the Ministry of Intelligence, and Tavaris had earned Soval's respect and friendship many times over. A mnemonic virus engineered by one of Vulcan's many enemies had forced Tavaris to retire early from field work, and left him with a paralyzing mental addiction to learning itself. His every waking hour was spent feeding his voracious appetite for knowledge, and what had seemed to be a boon at first was quickly revealed to be a terrible curse. Unable to meditate to control the wildly intense emotions that were every Vulcan's burden, Tavaris had become unstable and unpredictable. Whether out of loyalty, affection, or some other undefinable reason, only his mate and daughter seemed capable of attending to his needs as he vacillated between one emotion to another.
At Soval's approach, Tavaris looked up from the oversized book. Instantly, a look of pleased surprise crossed his face, and he smiled slightly in recognition. A wave of discomfort washed through Soval at the visible display of emotion, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. It was hardly Tavaris' fault, after all.
"If I had known you were planning a visit," Tavaris said in their native tongue, his accent still untainted by two decades among the Coridans, "I would have told T'Sai to prepare a special meal." Soval quirked an eyebrow at the mention of his old friend's daughter.
"I was under the impression that she was on Vulcan, training to become a kolinahr master," he stated calmly. Tavaris' smile broadened at the implication that Soval had been keeping an eye on his old friend's family.
"She is well advanced in her studies," Tavaris declared proudly. He winced slightly, and turned his attention back to the book before him. "It is not like you, Soval, to appear unannounced," he said as his eyes tracked the curious hieroglyphics on the pages before him.
"It was not planned," the ambassador revealed. The sidelong look that Tavaris gave him was a painfully familiar one. "I require your unique talents," Soval admitted. An expression of despair crossed Tavaris' face.
"I have no unique talents, Soval," he said sadly. "You have wasted your time, I fear."
Without replying, Soval pulled a datacard from his pocket and placed it atop the massive book. Frowning, Tavaris picked it up and studied it for a moment. Heaving a heavy sigh, he slid off the chair and walked to a nearby viewer. The machine hummed for a moment as it deciphered the data.
"There are many similarities to the second battle of the Pelaxis Drift," Tavaris pronounced immediately as he examined the digital image, "which claimed the life of Surak's firstborn son. But the numbers are too few on the side of the ambushed. T'Klaas' convoy had more than is displayed here, and the Rihannsu's numbers were smaller." The image flickered, and Tavaris leaned back in surprise. "This is a space battle," he identified, eyes wide.
"Yes," Soval confirmed calmly. He watched silently as his associate studied the data display with the eagerness of a small child. Minutes crept by in silence, and Soval glanced toward the doorway. If he was being pursued, as he suspected, he had no desire to be responsible for his old friend's death.
"The architect of this battle is Rihannsu," Tavaris declared suddenly.
"How can you be sure?" Soval asked. He could feel dread lacing his stomach with ice, as everything that he had feared was coming to pass.
"Observe." Tavaris began to manipulate the controls on the viewer, advancing the digital representation of starships at a curious rate. "This entire flanking maneuver is identical to the ground offensive waged by S'Task prior to the detonation of the first nuclear weapons on Vulcan." He frowned slightly. "It does not take advantage of the extra maneuverability afforded by zero-gee environments, but remains efficient and effective. And the maneuver that destroys this command ship is virtually the same one that S'Task's forces used to capture Surak's son." His frown deepened. "This is a recent engagement," Tavaris said aloud before pinning Soval with a flat look. "The humans?" he queried.
"Yes." The ice in Soval's stomach became solid duranium. "It is a representation of their recent defeat at the hands of the Romulans."
"So," Tavaris mused softly, "Our lost brothers have returned."
"It would appear so," Soval agreed. "I suspect they have infiltrated our government." It explained V'Las's mad schemes, he realized grimly. He glanced away, momentarily lost in thought. Surely T'Pau was not working with the descendants of those who had murdered Surak. But were any of her ministers? Or her aides? "I must relay this information to T'Pau," he said softly before turning his eyes back to his old friend. "You are in danger, my old friend," he warned. "I am afraid that I bring death to your door." The smile Tavaris gave him was not as discomforting as Soval would have expected.
"We all die eventually," Tavaris stated simply. He ejected the datacard and cleared the memory buffer of the viewer. "It has been good to see you, old friend," he said as he offered the datacard back to Soval.
"And you." Soval began to offer the ta'al before reconsidering and offering his hand in a distinctive human gesture. Tavaris quirked an eyebrow. "It is a human custom," Soval explained. "I have been the ambassador on their world for many years." His old friend nodded in understanding as he clasped Soval's hand.
"That explains your curious accent," Tavaris said with a hint of a smile. "Live long and prosper, Soval."
"Prosperity and long life, Tavaris," Soval replied, before turning away.
He did not look back.