not with the plumage of Romulan raptors, but with the harsh script of the forbidden language of those who worked the stones.
Vast orbital refineries that would make Terok Nor look like a shuttlecraft wheeled above the Calypso, spewing clouds of superheated rock vapor, bringing pollution to the pristine vacuum of space. Ion freighters driven by thrusters venting light-speed streamers of plasma rose past the Calypso with holds overfilled with raw dilithium ore. Their blistering exhaust would devastate the surface of any other world. But Remus was beyond devastation.
It was a resource to be exploited, its veins of exotic minerals no different from the individual lives of the Remans who toiled within its caves. A rock crushed. A Reman life expended. Both had equal meaning to those who ruled from the sister planet.
Most Remans never saw that world to which they gave their lives. But for those few thousand trustees picked from among the buried millions, who crewed the freighters and the orbital refineries, who built and maintained the surface domes and structures, who had a chance to see the sky—that sister planet was more often than not a glittering green star, the brightest in the heavens.
But other times, as it was now, when the resonant orbits of the two worlds came into opposition, approaching within a million kilometers of each other in an echo of the single world they once were before they were shattered, Romulus was a disk that grew until its bands of green vegetation and soft white billows of clouds filled the sky like a window into Paradise.
Some Remans held within their hearts the secret wish, the secret dream, that Romulus was where their souls would be reborn after death, their reward for the punishment of their lives in the mines.
But other Remans knew that their only chance for reward was in this life, and that reward would come only when the inhabitants of Paradise—their Romulan brothers—were punished for their transgressions.
Shinzon had not been the first to arise from among the oppressed to fulfill the ancient legends of change and revolt.
But he had been the first to gain the ear of the Romulan Senate.
He had been the first to be given the ship and the soldiers to pursue his dream. And the truth that was known to those who had supported him, guided him, directed him, was that if only Shinzon had kept his word and pursued the one pure goal of Reman freedom, then Shinzon would have succeeded.
But Shinzon did not keep his face turned to the sun. He was not watchful.
As he accumulated power, he forgot the legends of the Old Ways, the lessons of the Clans. He allowed himself to be distracted by petty personal desires, and those distractions brought his downfall.
But those who had supported Shinzon were not defeated by his failure.
They had armed one surrogate to fight their battle, and they could arm another.
As many as it might take to bring the inevitable day of change.
Not the change the Remans dreamed of, but something even more satisfying, more welcome, more peaceful, more in accordance with the true reality of existence.
“I say we tell him everything.” Visual sensor implants glistening, Geordi La Forge looked around the narrow galley of the Calypso, as if daring anyone present to object to what he had so plainly stated.
But Picard couldn’t argue with his engineer. Indeed, he appreciated the irony that the one member of his crew who had been blind since birth was often the one person who saw a problem’s solution most clearly.
However, Picard was also very much aware of the holographic doctor studying him, awaiting his decision. And given current circumstances, there was only one decision Picard’s orders allowed him to make.
“That’s out of the question,” Picard told La Forge. He nodded at the Doctor, who stood at the side of the ship’s tiny galley. He was the only one present who wore a Starfleet uniform, and he apparently preferred not to crowd in with the others at the small table. The Doctor gave a tight smile and folded his arms as if acknowledging victory. “At least, at present,” Picard added, and enjoyed seeing the Doctor’s smile change to a frown.
“Well, I agree with Geordi,” Crusher joined in. “The whole point of this mission was to get to Romulus. Being sidetracked to Remus puts everything at risk.”
“We are merely delayed,” the Doctor said, giving a wonderful holographic impression of being exasperated. “Not derailed.”
“But for how long?” La Forge asked. “The longer we’re stuck on Remus, the greater opportunity there is for evidence to disappear on Romulus. And if we can’t find out who’s responsible for Ambassador Spock’s murder, then…” La Forge frowned in frustration.
Picard turned to the hologram. “Doctor, believe me, I understand what Admiral Janeway’s orders require of us.”
“That’s quite a relief,” the Doctor said without waiting for Picard to finish.
“But I also agree with my crew’s assessment. Conditions have changed, and I believe we, and the mission, would be better served if we brought Jim, and Doctor McCoy, and Mister Scott into our confidence.”
“Absolutely not,” the Doctor said flatly. “The renowned Captain Kirk is a maverick. A lone wolf. He barely functioned within Starfleet’s chain of command when he was officially in service, and now, as a civilian, with a child who is the focus of his concern, there is not the slightest chance that we can rely on him to put the needs of the Federation above his own.”
Picard tapped his finger on the narrow galley table, which looked like polished wood, but clicked like metal. The small room with its so-called gourmet food replicators was only large enough to hold ten people at a time, and under normal circumstances with a full crew and passenger load, people aboard the Calypso would have to eat in shifts. On the first day of this voyage, Picard had explored the ship and quickly decided it would be a safe place for private meetings with his fellow co-conspirators. It was far enough forward and away from the engine room that anyone approaching would be revealed the moment the turbolift doors opened in the quiet corridor outside. “Doctor, it was you who said that Kirk’s child would not be in any danger on this mission.”
The hologram looked offended. “That was Starfleet’s determination and I support it. We’re not monsters, Captain. No one at Command would even consider placing a child in harm’s way. And, in point of fact, it seems young Joseph is to be treated as an honored guest by the Remans.”
“Guest?” Crusher repeated in surprise. “I’m at the communications console, remember? From the messages flying back and forth, I’d say Joseph is considered to be a long-lost child at last returned home.”
The holographic doctor wasn’t convinced. “I fail to see how that translates into the possibility of harm.”
“Doctor,” Crusher said earnestly, “now that he’s here, I don’t think the Remans have any intention of allowing Joseph to leave.”
Before the hologram could reply, Picard added, “And if that is the case, then what do you think Jim’s reaction will be?”
But the Doctor took Picard by surprise, reversed the question. “What do you think his reaction will be?”
“The same as any other parent’s, with the added complication that Jim has more than enough skill and experience to reclaim his child from any Reman authorities rash enough to keep father from son.”
“Exactly,” the Doctor said, as if delivering the last unassailable word in the argument.
But Picard didn’t understand what point the hologram was making. “You’ll have to be clearer than that.”
For better or worse, the Doctor never seemed averse to talking in detail. “If you think our mission is in difficulty now, what do you think the repercussions will be for us if Kirk goes on a parental rampage on Joseph’s behalf, stirring up a diplomatic incident at the least, or an act of war at worst?”
“Don’t you think that it falls to us to prevent that?” Picard asked. “As a group.”
The holographic doctor looked up at the low ceiling of the galley, and Picard was struck by how convincing the artificial life-form’s emotional subroutines appeared to be. He felt a pang of loss as he thought of Data, and wished that the android and the hologram had had a chance to discuss their similarities and their differences. There’s never enough time, he thought. Not for any of us.
“Captain Picard,” the Doctor began sternly, “must I remind you that what passes for the current semblance of order in the Romulan Empire is so precarious, that the slightest provocation from an outside entity, such as the Federation, could ignite the civil war that is already within weeks, if not days of beginning.”
La Forge shook his head, his earlier frustration growing. “You really believe that Captain Kirk defending his child is enough to start a war?”
“Commander La Forge,” the Doctor argued, “there is no question that the forces of civil war are already in place at the heart of the Romulan Star Empire. If Shinzon hadn’t attempted to make his ill-fated attack on Earth,
