Chapter 20

"I should thank you," Loxus said to Skaal through the clear door to the detention cell.

Loxus had made an excuse to the security guard about requiring information from the prisoner about something he'd done to the comm system while in Ops, but in truth he just wanted to confront Skaal one last time. Humans would call it closure.

"Oh?" Skaal said, raising an eyebrow. Although defeated, he maintained an arrogant stance.

Loxus clasped his hands behind his back. "I have been conflicted regarding the differences in my... strict upbringing and the recent changes to Vulcan society. Indeed, to galactic society. I had thought, as you do, that a cold, militant approach was required to prosper, and that we did not need to rely on 'inferior' aliens, nor accept their influence, but now I see that, although such a system does get results, they are temporary and insufficient in the long run. That uniting with others, cooperating peacefully in understanding, is inevitable. To deny that when all evidence suggests it... is illogical."

Skaal stepped up to the glass, sneering. "This Federation will only lead to ruin. To domination by lesser races and the corruption of all that is purely Vulcan."

Loxus stared the older man down. "If you truly believe that, then you have a flawed understanding of what makes a society prosperous. I see now it is not conquest and mindless obedience to the state... it is to ensure that all citizens are cared for, allowed to pursue their own personal lifestyle, and to be happy. A better life for everyone creates a better society for everyone."

Skaal sniffed, turning away back into his small cell. "If you believe that then it is your understanding that is flawed, Sylor."

Loxus cocked his head. "Then why are you the one in a cell?"

Skaal had no answer.

Content (and a little smug) to leave it at that, Loxus reached to switch off the cell intercom, but Skaal half-turned.

"I wonder what your alien friends would make of your request for passage to the Tarod system? So close to the Neutral Zone..."

That gave Loxus pause. He doubted that one so low-ranking and simple-minded as Skaal suspected him of being a Romulan, but perhaps he thought him a collaborator, which was not unheard of. Although Tarod IX was known for illicit activity now, and maybe Skaal just thought him involved in criminal enterprises.

He steeled himself. His undercover training had taught him to think on his feet.

"A necessary deception," he said. "In order to gain your trust. Such a radical request would make me seem committed to your cause."

Skaal seemed unconvinced and turned away again. "Hm. Very well then. Leave me to the mercy of these savages. I would offer the traditional Vulcan farewell, but you seem to despise the old ways."

"On the contrary, Skaal. I believe that is it the Federation that will live long and prosper."


To his own surprise, Loxus had actually meant his words to Skaal.

He was mildly concerned that Skaal would report his request for transport to Tarod IX, but Loxus could tell his superiors the same excuse about a necessary lie to gain Skaal's trust. Another benefit of being a "good guy" was that they were more likely to believe him than a terrorist. Tomorrow, the Kir-alep would take Skaal and his followers to Alpha III to stand trial, and then they'd all be locked up for a long time, of no more concern.

Back in his quarters, at his desk, Loxus looked over the covert transmitter which he used to send reports back to Romulus. He had not received a response in two years, adding to his disconnection from his home. From his past life.

But he saw now that his loyalty, his patriotism to that life was sustained by lies and threats, just as Skaal and those like him clung desperately, blindly to their old ways. Change, especially change for the better, was necessary. And, as T'Ling had said, preconceptions must be challenged. If they withstood those challenges, then they were true, and much of his Romulan upbringing had fallen before the alternatives he'd seen living among Humans.

Humans had defeated the Romulans in the war not through military might or strategic cunning, but through their alliances with other races. Romulans, like him, fought because they were told to; Humans fought for a better way of life. And that make them unstoppable.

T'Ling and T'Nox's words about Surak and Vulcan history had also moved him. So different from the lies he'd been told on Romulus. Another example of how his people maintained control.

Loxus had tried, at the last minute, to reembrace his old ways, to flee this base under the belief he'd been brainwashed, but seeing Skaal and his followers had been like looking in a mirror. He knew now he could never go back.

He had to become Sylor forever.

And he found this agreeable.

He placed his transmitter down on the floor and activated its self-destruct. It was designed to be easily disposable to avoid detection, and within seconds had vaporised itself, similar to how their troops escaped capture.

It was gone, and, with it, the last trace of his past.

Time to begin a new life.

He pressed a button on his desktop monitor. "Computer... display information on Surak of Vulcan..."


The cold air was crisp and dug into the very soul this high up, while the sharp smell of icy rock emanated all around. North panted, his breath misting before him, as he made his way from where the shuttlepod had landed halfway up the mountainside. He could hear the faint sounds of metal on metal in the distance, no doubt wherever the Tellarites were constructing their mining facility.

Licking his dry, cracked lips, he paused a moment to take in the view. There was still vibrant greenery down below, showing itself off before disappearing for winter, and the skies were turning grey. He remembered the first time he'd been up this mountain, almost a year ago, just after the starbase had been officially opened. He'd come to negotiate a truce with the then-aggressive Draco.

How far they'd come since then.

Ahead, at a cavemouth, was Caeldon, waiting for him. He smiled as he approached the great lizard, making sure his translator was pinned to his coat and switched on.

"Clan Mother Caeldon. I apologise for not visiting sooner. It's been an... interesting few days."

She bowed her large, scaly head. "No need for apologies, Commodore Zachary North. I am pleased to see you now. And I am pleased for all that you have done for us. For all clans. You have made us stronger, given us new stories, helped to heal us, turned enemies into allies."

North smiled, allowing himself some pride. "Thank you. I was actually just thinking about all we've done together. I... I will miss you while you sleep, Clan Mother. You and all the Draco."

She blinked her yellow eyes at him. "There may be more of us out there. Like the one you encountered to the north. Our ancient tales say that we once covered this world, and there could be others still elsewhere."

North hadn't considered this. "We'll have to look out for them."

Caeldon's long neck lowered. "I wish we could talk more, Commodore Zachary North, but I must begin hibernation soon. The cold hurts my wings."

He nodded. "Right. I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure I'll have lots of new stories for you when you wake up."

"Of that, I am certain." She turned her massive, scarlet body towards the cave, but twisted her neck to face him. "We will sleep for many thousands of days, Commodore Zachary North. Your people have changed much in your short time here... I wonder what the world will be like when we wake."

North looked up at her, contemplating her words. Their scientists had estimated that winter on Berengaria VII could last up to 40 Earth years. It could be the 23rd century before he saw Caeldon again, if he lived that long.

"Yes, Clan Mother," he said softly, but with a smile. "I wonder that myself."