The Neyel raised his dark eyes from the farrago of red and white chess pieces arrayed before him, and stared into the middle distance of the sparsely populated mess hall as he appeared to consider Riker’s question with great care.

“Five or six oghencycles,” Frane said at length. “Years, in your Federation parlance. It was the last time I saw my father. Before his ship picked me up near the Riftmouth, that is, when the Romulans came…” He trailed off.

Riker nodded, beginning to understand Frane’s ambivalence about the world of his birth. “Your friends in the Seekers After Penance must have been keeping you pretty busy during that time.”

He glanced briefly toward one of the room’s far corners, where the four other individuals who had shared Frane’s escape pod—including a young Neyel woman and a member of a local species whose multijointed body parts possessed the remarkable ability to separate and operate independently—were seated. Ever since coming aboard, the other members of Frane’s Sleeper-worshipping sect had largely kept to themselves, evidently as suspicious of Titan’s crew as they had been of the authorities from the Neyel Hegemony. Their initial encounter with Dr. Ree, who had cursorily examined them some two days earlier in sickbay, clearly had done nothing to ease their anxiety. They tended to venture into the mess only during off-peak times such as this; only a handful of Starfleet personnel were present, since the alpha-shift lunchtime rush wasn’t due for another half hour or so.

At the moment, the quartet was taking a meal with varying degrees of evident nervousness, with the cattle-like pair of aboriginal Oghen appearing far more fearful than the rest of the group. Only the multipartite creature, evidently known as a Sturr, seemed more or less preoccupied with the meal before it, but that may have been either because he or she was utterly nonhumanoid, or because approximately half of the creature was seated and eating while the balance of its body parts had crawled over to the buffet table to obtain more food and drink. Although the Pandronians back in the Alpha Quadrant had evolved similar adaptations, Riker decided that the Sturr was easily the most fascinating sentient he had encountered in the past several years; he had to force himself not to stare, goggle-eyed.

The lone Neyel female, whom Frane had introduced earlier as Nozomi, sat vigil over a largely uneaten green salad, watching Riker and Frane with dark eyes that brimmed over with fear and suspicion. Riker couldn’t really blame her for her apprehension; she and her fellows had been through a lot these past few days, and the Neyel military—to say nothing of the Romulans—had obviously given them all good reason to consider armed authority figures guilty until proven innocent.

“The sect devotes a great deal of its time and energy to study and meditation,” Frane said in answer to Riker’s observation, then deftly maneuvered his knight from a trap that Riker had assumed the younger man had overlooked. The move reminded Riker that it would be a mistake to underestimate Frane; despite his relative youth, the young Neyel had clearly survived a great deal of adversity and knew how to think on his feet.

“Your sect also seems to have put a great deal of its time and energy into entreating your deity to wipe out your people,” Riker said. “Not to mention a lot of innocent bystanders.”

Once again worrying the bracelet on his wrist, Frane lapsed into what seemed to Riker an almost sullen silence. Riker felt a deep sense of disappointment, which only increased by the hour; during the nearly two days since Titanhad set out for the beleaguered Neyel homeworld—her crew taking care all the while to avoid potentially lethal interactions between the starship’s warp field and the Sleeper’s increasingly frequent stirrings—Frane had once again become extraordinarily withdrawn. He continued to refuse Deanna’s repeated requests that he sit for a counseling session, and he now seemed to endure even Riker’s company only reluctantly.

And yet he finally started rooting for his homeworld’s survival just the day before yesterday,Riker thought. After years of literally praying for its destruction at the hands of a native Magellanic god.

As among humans, old habits evidently died hard among the Neyel. Even, Riker realized now, among some of the younger ones.

Frane finally deigned to break the mess hall’s deafening silence. “We sought only atonement,Captain. The atonement of the Neyel people for being slavers and heirs to slavers, and atonement for the indigenous races who allowed themselves to have been brought to such penury for so many generations.”

“Seems like an overly harsh outlook to me,” Riker said, using one of his rooks to seize one of Frane’s bishops. “Does it leave any room for forgiveness?”

Frane shrugged. “Ask the Sleeper after He awakens,” he said with audible irony, which he underscored by castling, thereby moving the red king to a place of relative safety.

Riker scanned the board again, hoping his next move would present itself in short order. He was disappointed. “Your Sleeper doesn’t seem like the forgiving sort.”

“The Neyel know the universe is not a forgiving place, Captain.”

Riker considered the plight of the Neyel Coreworld of Oghen, and was forced to agree. He moved his rook to 6g, only two spaces from Frane’s king, which had eluded him thus far.

Gotcha.“Nor is the chessboard, Mr. Frane. Check.”

Frane wasted no time taking out Riker’s rook with a bishop that seemed to have materialized from out of nowhere. “You’re right, Captain. I’ll have youin check in two more moves.”

Riker’s combadge chirped. “Vale to Captain Riker,”it said, relaying the rich, mid-register tones of Titan’s executive officer.

Riker tapped the badge. “Go ahead, Christine.”

“We’re about five minutes from clearing the Oghen system’s Oort cloud, sir.”

“Any hails or challenges?”

“No, sir. The Neyel military evidently still have their hands full dealing with trouble on the homeworld. Long-range sensors are picking up multiple spatial disruptions and warp signatures in the inner system. As well as a number of antimatter detonations.”

The Neyel ships are suffering warp core breaches,Riker thought, his belly quickening with horror. My God, how much worse will this get?

Two moves later, Riker was indeed in check. He glanced back toward Nozomi, whose fearful stare silently accused him. He couldn’t help but wonder how many of those doomed, vaporized ships had already been laden with Neyel and aboriginal Magellanic refugees, panicked men, women, and children seeking only to escape the devastation being brought their way by the progressive awakening of the Sleeper….

“Sir?”Vale said. Riker turned away from Nozomi. He noticed that Frane, too, was staring at him.

Chess really isn’t my game,Riker thought as he tipped over his king, resigning from the match. Then he stood. “I’m coming up to the bridge now. Riker out.”

He excused himself, then walked past the Seekers After Penance and into the corridor. Moments later, the turbolift doors whisked open and admitted him. After he entered and turned back to face the corridor, he saw that he wasn’t alone.

Frane had followed him, his bare, opposable-thumbed feet incongruously quiet against the deck.

Riker grinned at the impassive Neyel. “You’re welcome to come along, Mr. Frane.” As the door closed and the turbolift bore them both upward toward the bridge, Riker hoped that Frane’s presence meant that he was once again pulling for his people rather than for an ancient, unforgiving deity.

Nearly twelve hundred kilometers above the surface of Oghen, Titancrossed the terminator into the harsh glare of the system’s primary, a yellow-white F-type star.