was a young male, with a curious band of gold under his left eye. Kirk couldn’t decide if it was some sort of applied decoration, an enhancement implant, or even a metallic tattoo. Whatever it was, he had never seen a Romulan with facial ornamentation, so while noting it, he was not too obvious in his examination.
Sen and Nran both deferred to Virron, and he led the conversation.
“I trust you are not feeling too beleaguered, Kirk, meeting so many of us at one time.”
Feeling the weight of another agenda descend on this new, smaller gathering, Kirk reverted to his earlier cautious approach, and so ignored the question that was asked. He asked his own instead.
” ‘Of us?’ All of those people were related to Teilani?”
Virron regarded Kirk calmly as if he knew exactly the tack Kirk was taking, and subtly acquiesced. “Not formally, as we are.” He gestured to include Sen and Nran. “But in spirit, yes.”
When in doubt, Kirk thought. “I don’t understand,” he said bluntly.
“Everyone in this room—” Virron held out his hand to Facilitator, who remained a silent presence at the side. “—everyone,” he emphasized, “is part of a larger family.” Virron looked at Nran, as if giving him permission to continue.
“The Jolan Movement,” Nran said. Kirk heard the respect, almost the awe, with which the young Romulan spoke those words. Strictly by instinct, and by nothing rational, that tone of voice put Kirk on alert.
“Jolan,” Kirk repeated, and he was even more concerned by the reflexive way in which the three Romulans smiled at the word. “I heard many of the people here say that. Farr Jolan, I believe.”
“It is our way of greeting,” Sen said.
“A blessing, really,” Nran added.
“Though we don’t emphasize that nature of it,” Virron explained.
“Because…?” Kirk asked.
Nran and Sen looked to Virron, and he answered, choosing his words with care. “The Jolan Movement is from another age, Kirk. Indeed, it arose on Romulus at the same time Teilani’s parents were taken from Remus to become the first generation of the Chalchaj ‘qmey. A time of impending war and uncertainty, as you know.”
Kirk moved directly to what he thought the conclusion would be. “A peace movement?”
“There is no need for war,” Nran said. The young male’s voice was fervent.
Kirk read the guarded expressions on each of his hosts. It was painfully obvious that they were holding back information from him. So he responded to the challenge by deciding to see how much he could draw from them. “A peace movement within a military society at a time of impending war…it can’t have been easy for the movement.”
“Dark times, indeed, Kirk,” Virron agreed. “On Romulus, the movement was a failure. Today, only an echo of it remains. Farr Jolan, said in greeting. Jolan True, said in parting. What once were meaningful blessings are now empty rituals, their true meanings forgotten. Which is the only reason the government tolerates their use.”
“What are their true meanings?” Kirk asked.
Virron shrugged, as if the answer were inconsequential—something Kirk did not believe. “Farr Jolan…’peace awaits’…the truth is near…a greeting among those who believe a better time is to come. Jolan True…’find peace’…may your day be filled with peace…. Each follower finds his own meaning, her own meaning. Surely on your world there are similar sentiments expressed, whose meanings have changed over time?”
Kirk was aware his probing was being deflected, but chose not to press the issue with his reticent hosts. Once he returned to the Calypso, he could get a coded message back to the Titan. That starship’s language databanks would shed more light on the Jolan Movement and its rituals.
“On every world, I would think,” Kirk said. Then he deflected the conversation himself. “So how is it the Jolan Movement came to survive on Remus?”
“I think what you mean to ask,” Virron said, “is how did the Movement come to survive among Romulans on Remus?”
Kirk gave him that one. “Fair enough.”
“It must come as no surprise to learn that we Romulans ‘assigned’ to Remus are outcasts from the homeworld.”
“I know very little of Remus,” Kirk said truthfully.
“Then you are like most Romulans.” Sen spoke without bothering to hide the bitterness she obviously felt.
“The Remans are a slave population,” Virron said gravely. “At the time of the Arrival, the First chose their own worlds for their own reasons. Romulus, as a world to build homes, plant crops, live a free life. Remus, as a source of riches. To fuel the creation of a new society.
“Those among the First who chose to come to Remus—the engineers and the miners—they did so believing they would give a portion of their time and their lives to the common dream of freedom, then share in the fruits of their labor on Romulus with the others.
“It was a difficult time—the first years of any colonization project always are. Transport ships between the two worlds were small, limited. Travel time could take weeks and life-support requirements, of course, diminished the amount of ore that could be returned. The First found they could not return to Romulus as frequently as they had hoped. Inevitably, as the years went on, families formed here. And the Divide began.”
Virron clasped his hands together, leaned forward in his chair as if imparting a critical secret. He even dropped his voice to a whisper. “On Romulus, Kirk, all the ancient records have long been purged. But in the oral tradition of the Remans, the tale is told that perhaps two or three generations after the Arrival, there was a war between the two worlds. The government on Romulus today would never permit this discussion to take place, but we were Vulcans then. Fierce, proud warriors. And unlike the world of our birth, we did not have the weapons that could eradicate ourselves, and thus there was no brake on the savagery we could unleash on one another.
“But those who would become Romulans controlled the spacelanes, the high ground. Those who would become Remans were starved. The war lasted little more than a year, from one planetary opposition to the next. And in the end, what had begun as a partnership had become, instead, the relationship between the conquerors and the conquered. We were Vulcans no longer. We were master and slave. Romulan and Reman.”
For all that Kirk distrusted Virron and his unstated purpose for this meeting, he heard the anguish in the old man’s voice as he related the secret, tragic history of his people.
Kirk did not hide his compassion. “Even on my world, this is not a unique story, Virron. I know that can bring no comfort, except, perhaps, the knowledge that other worlds and other species have faced similar horrific situations, and have, in time, risen above them.”
“It is rare to have such an honest conversation with an alien,” Virron said.
Kirk sought to capitalize on the moment of rapport. “You were telling me you were outcasts on this world.”
“The correct term here is ‘Assessor.’ “
“And that, you said, was your function on Remus. Primary Assessor.”
The Romulan’s face tightened. “It’s a clinical term, Kirk. The one preferred by our masters on the homeworld. In any other language, it would mean what it is—slave driver. Overseer. Monster.”
Virron settled back in his chair, as if he had surprised himself with the anger Kirk had teased from him.
“You must forgive him, Kirk,” Sen said. “These are not easy times for us. Since Shinzon…”
Kirk suddenly saw a connection. “Were you involved in Shinzon’s coup?”
Nran’s words tumbled from him. “There was not supposed to be a coup! For generations, we have had no voice on the homeworld, and Shinzon was to speak for us.”
Kirk had been briefed on Shinzon’s rise and his coup—at least, he had been told as much as Starfleet knew, which admittedly was not complete.
“The day Shinzon set foot on Romulus,” Nran continued with undisguised pride, “as a guest officially invited to address the Senate…it was such a proud day for all Remans.”
“Yet, Shinzon was a human,” Kirk said.
“No,” Virron said. “Not matter what their species, those who are consigned to Remus are Reman. Whether like Facilitator, their family’s roots stretch back to the time of the Arrival. Or, like ours, are only a few generations removed from the homeworld. Or, like Shinzon, an alien brought here as a child. In truth, there are no aliens on Remus. The moment any being is sent here to work the rock, they are Reman.”
Kirk saw the threads of Virron’s story come together then. “Virron, I apologize if I’m straying into a subject
