Seleya Soleta had been caught completely flatfooted....a conditioni that was, to her, extremely annoying.
She was standing in her apartment in Los Angeles. Her marvelous view of Fleet Academy out of the window had always provided a curious comfort for the Vulcan woman. Now it seemed to serve only as a kind of ironic counterpoint; out there would be possible rescue for her current odd situation, but it might as well have been on Venus.
On her computer screen, the words "Don't Move"----a message which had seemed very odd indeed when she first read it---still glowed at her in dark letters. "What kind of message is that?" she had demanded of the empty room.
That was when she had learned that the room was, in fact, anything but empty. From directly behind her, she'd felt the gentle but disturbing firm prodding of a weapon, and coldly spoken words: "It's the kind of message," a soft but threatening voice said, "that you should pay attention to. Now----you'll do exactly what I say---and may God help you if you don't, because nobody else will be able to help you. That, I can assure you."
Soleta was too well trained to let her astonishment show in either her voice or her demeanor. She acted, in fact, as if the identity of her unknown visitor were of no interest to her at all. "I am impressed," she said. "My hearing has always been rather keen. That you were able to gain access to this apartment and hide in here without my detecting you is, as noted, impressive. That you were able to then get close enough to me to threaten me with a weapon, again without my hearing your movement, is nothing short of amazing," and then, as an afterthought, she added, "which would have more impact, of course, were I capable of being amazed."
"You're unafraid," said the voice. "You haven't changed."
The voice struck a cord in Soleta's memory. She frowned almost imperceptibly. "We've met, have we not."
"Think of an opulent corridor," the voice told her, almost seeming to relish prolonging the moment. "Think of an escape attempt gone awry...."
"On Centauri Prime," she said slowly.
"Right."
"Vito Turhi."
As if saying the name somehow released her from the threat of impending violence. Soleta turned to face him. Towering over her was indeed the formidable Lord Vito Turhi, late of the Centauri Empire. He had taken two steps back, clearly a respectful distance. "Stay where you are," he said firmly. "I'm not interested in leaving myself vulnerable to the assorted Vulcan tricks at your disposal."
"Nor am I interested in utilizing them," replied Soleta, eyeing him with undisguised curiosity. "I still do not understand how I was unable to hear you come up behind me."
He shrugged as if it were an insignificant matter. "It's a technique I once learned. It's convenient for one who's as conspicuous as I to be able to blend in when such is needed. I had a good teacher."
"I should say so." She gestured to a nearby chair. "Would you care to sit down?"
Waving the barrel of his weapon slightly, he indicated another chair a few feet away. "After you," he said with exaggerated cordiality.
She nodded slightly and sat A moment later he followed suit.
"The last time I saw you," said Turhi as casually as if they'd run into one another at a local pub, "you and Ambassador Spock were endeavoring to escape from Centauri Prime. You'd staged a rather impressive breakout from your cell and were hoping to flee the palace when we happened to run into one another. Do you remember what happened?"
"Of course," she said. "You allowed the ambassador and myself to depart....after returning this to me," and she tapped the IDIC pin she wore in her hair.
He nodded. "All this time and you still wear it. It's comforting to know that some things in the ever-evolving universe remains unchanging."
"What happened after our escape?"
"Guards were disciplined. Palace security was improved. Drills were held."
"Nothing more----severe?"
"If what you are asking if anyone was executed over their inability to keep you prisoner, no," Turhi assured her. "After all, the fundamentalist truth is that I allowed you to escape. Had I not done so, you would not have done so. It was a private decision I made, and one that I elected to keep private even as the investigation of your breakout was held."
"Why? You were a nobleman. Certainly you weren't afraid of retribution."
"Even noblemen have no desire to appear weak to their subordinates. It increases the difficulty of maintaining control."
"And yet," Soleta said evenly, "you lost control anyway. Your family lost control of the Centauri Republic."
"A valid point," he admitted. "And, in fact, the reason that I am here." He seemed to regard her with intense interest for a moment, and then abruptly he holstered his blaster and placed his hands in his lap. The meaning of the gesture was unmistakable: It was time to put threats and attempts at intimidation aside. To be candid with, and trusting of, one another, if such a thing was possible."
"There are other things in this ever-evolving universe that should also remain unchanging, I should think," Turhi told her. "One of those is gratitude. Gratitude and appreciation for services provided, particularly when those services result in prolonging one's life."
"I would assume you are referring to the fact that I'm indebted to you for having allowed me to escape Centauri Prime."
"Quite so."
She looked down for a moment, and there was a slightly rueful expression non her face. "Were I fully Vulcan," she said, "my attitude would be that, in allowing my escape, you acted in a most illogical manner. Behaving illogically would have been your prerogative as a non-Vulcan. Once you had decided to behave in an illogical manner, however, my attitude toward you would have been one of....." She paused, searching for the proper word. "Contempt, I should think. Contempt and even a bit of fascination that one could achieve a position of power while pursing such illogical thought patterns. 'Gratitude' would never enter into it."
He nodded grimly. "That would explain Ambassador Spock's attitude. I appealed to his sense of gratitude during a private meeting, asking him to do my bidding. He refused, and even seemed puzzled as to what I was talking about when it came to feeling obligated to me."
"Ambassador Spock is likewise not fully Vulcan. However, he had had far more time to come to terms with that fact and compensate for it. Out of curiosity, did you threaten him with a weapon as you did me?"
"No," he admitted. "I decided to utilize it this time around for the purpose of emphasis." He considered the situation a moment. "May I take it from what you just said that you are not fully Vulcan? What are you?"
She fixed him with a level gaze and then said, with a softness that almost hinted at vulnerability, "I would rather not discuss it." There was silence for a moment, and then she said, "What did you want of Spock? For that matter, what do you want of me?"
"I need to get aboard the Universe. I need to be brought along, back into Cenaturi space. It's important to me and, furthermore, I can be of use to you."
"You have already put in this request with Fleet, I take it."
"Yes, and I was denied. They denied---me," and it was clear that the thought still rankled him.
"Why?"
"Because they're fools. Because I'm not a member of Fleet. One man, a man named Hammond, forbade it, and the others would not gainsay him. They united against me."
"And what would you have me do?"
"Get me onto the ship."
She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I do not know the captain," she said, "but I can certainly speak to him once I am there. Arrange a meeting between the two of you...."
"I'm growing tired of meetings," Turhi said angrily. He rose from the chair, pacing furiously. "I'm tired of groveling, tired of begging over matters that should be accorded to me out of sense of correctness, of respect."
"Are you expecting me to sneak you aboard somehow?" she asked skeptically.
And Soleta was completely unable to hide her astonishment when he replied, "Yes. That's just what I want you to do."
"How? You're not exactly a nanobot, Turhi. You're at least six feet tall. How would you suggest that I smuggle you aboard? Fold you in half and put you in my suitcase?"
"I leave that to you and your resourcefulness."
"But if we talk to the captain...."
"He could say no. He very likely will. I expect that he'll march in lockstep with his Fleet associates."
"Even if I could somehow get you aboard without anyone knowing," she said doubtfully, "you couldn't hide indefinitely."
"I'm aware of that. Once we're in Centauri space, I'd make myself known to your captain. By that point, it'll be too late."
"Ship captains are historically not especially generous when it comes to stowaways, Lord Turhi. In extreme cases, the captain would be authorized to punt you out of the ship in an escape pod with a homing beacon and no further obligation to see to your welfare. And since the captain is the one who defines what constitutes 'extreme,' he'd have a lot of latitude."
"I'd deal with it."
"This is not a logical plan, Turhi. If you really wish to go back into Centauri space, you can hire a private vessel. As you well know, Sector 332-J is no longer forbidden territory."
"It is to some."
She raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
He dropped back into the chair opposite her, and with barely controlled anger, he said, "Understand me, Soleta. I still have followers. Many followers. At risk of sounding self-aggrandizing...."
"A risk I'm sure you'll take," Soleta said dryly.
If he picked up on the sarcasm, he didn't let it show. "----I was one of the most popular members of the royal family. The mercy I showed you and Spock wasn't an isolated incident. I helped out others from time to time, when such judicious displays could be performed without undue attention. In certain quarters, I was known as compassionate and fair, a reputation that was, quite frankly, deserved."
"Congratulations."
"By the same token, I also had enemies. One in particular, a man named Cartagia, was almost insane in his hatred for me. I never knew quite why; or that Cartagia would have done anything to see me and the rest of my family wiped out. In any event---there were supporters who helped me and other members of my family to escape when the republic fell. And we were...."
His voice trailed off, as if he was recalling matters that he would rather not be thinking about. Soleta waited patiently.
"We were supposed to meet at a rendezvous point," he continued moments later, as if he hadn't lapsed into silence. "Meet there and get out together. I was the only one to make it to the rendezvous point. I heard secondhand that most of the others were caught and executed."
"Most?"
The whole time she'd been watching him, he'd maintained an imperious demeanor. But now it almost seemed as if he were deflating slightly. A great sailing ship, becalmed, its mighty canvas sagging. "I have heard nothing of Ovidia."
She was about to ask who that was, but then she remembered something. She remembered when she had first met Turhi, seen him sitting on his mount, proud and regal. And next to him was a young girl, laughing, clearly adoring the man next to her.
"The little girl who was with you?" she asked. "When I was first caught?"
"Yes. My sister. My little sister, who never did harm to anyone. Who was filled with joy and laughter." He looked at Soleta, his dark eyes twin pools of sadness. "Ovidia. I called her O. I have been unable to determined her fate. I don't know whether she's alive and in hiding, or...."
As if he was suddenly aware of, and self-conscious over, his emotional vulnerability, he pulled himself together quickly. He drew his regal bearing around him like a cloak. "It is galling to admit, but I need the protection that only a starship can provide. Protection from enemies such as Cartagia. The influence such a vessel could provide. And a means through which I can search for my sister. None of these could be garnered through the hiring of some small, on- or two-man ship."
"Lord Turhi, I wish I could help you, but..."
"No," he said sharply. "No 'buts.' Not in this matter. I have need of your help, and you will help me. Once we're in Centauri space I'll more than prove my worth, but I need your assistance in getting me there. You owe me your life, Soleta. Not all the logical arguments, all the rationalizations in the world, are going to change that one simple fact. If it were not for me, you'd be dead, some rotting corpse in an unmarked Centauri grave. If you have a shred of honor, you'll acknowledge your indebtedness to me and do as I ask."
"I would be putting everything at risk, Turhi," she warned him. "If my complicity in such an endeavor were discovered...."
"It would not be discovered through me," he told her in no uncertain terms. "That much, at the very least, I can promise you. Don't take this the wrong way, but you'd be merely means to an end. But you are a means I must take advantage of, for I see no other way at this point. I can't force you to help me, obviously. But I ask you now, for the sake of your own life, which you owe me....for the sake of my sister's life, which might possibly yet be saved....help me." And then he added a word that he couldn't recall using at any time in his life.
"Please."
And from the depths of her soul, Seleya Soleta let out a long, unsteady sigh, and wondered just who she should get to represent her at court-martial.
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