As if reading his thoughts, the Chelon leaned toward Reyes. “I have no doubts that what I propose will be difficult, Commodore,” he said. “However, I see no alternative if we are to pursue a peaceful resolution to what is quickly becoming a volatile state of affairs. Rest assured that I will employ all methods at my disposal toward meeting that goal.”

“I don’t doubt that you will, Ambassador,” Reyes replied, and he meant it. He only wished he could view his own role in what might lie ahead with equal confidence.

While he was content to keep his concerns to himself, it was T’Prynn who gave them voice as she turned to regard Reyes.

“With no disrespect intended toward the ambassador, sir,” she said, “if a diplomatic solution cannot be reached, we may have to be ready with a more direct course of action in order to protect our interests in the region.”

Though couched in words that were not immediately provocative, there was no mistaking the meaning behind T’Prynn’s statement.

If there’s going to be a fight, we have to be ready to get bloody.

19

With the bedcovers carelessly tossed to the floor of her quarters, Sarith lay atop her bed in soft repose, allowing the sweat of their lovemaking to cool her body as she watched N’tovek rise and begin to gather the components of his uniform. Her right hand absently stroked the sheets beside her, still warm to the touch from the heat of his body.

“Are you in that much of a hurry to make your escape?” she asked as she watched her lover fumble for his clothes, her tone teasing. “Is that fear I see in your eyes, Centurion?” Her eyes traced the lines of his unclothed body, noting the fresh scratches across his back and the tinge of green blood highlighting them. It seemed her enthusiasm had gotten the best of her, again.

Retrieving one boot from where it had fallen next to the small wardrobe positioned against the bulkhead opposite the bed, N’tovek looked to her and returned the smile. “I don’t think there is a safe answer to that question, Commander,” he offered with mock formality as he began dressing. “Not that it matters. I must report for duty.”

Lying naked in her bed, her body still aglow in the aftermath of the brief but passionate interlude they had shared, Sarith for a moment was tempted to exercise command prerogative and simply call for a replacement to be assigned to N’tovek’s station. She just as quickly dismissed the notion, however. While Sarith knew it was unwise to fraternize with members of her crew, it would be far more damaging if word spread across the ship that she was allowing anyone to shirk his responsibilities in favor of being her consort.

In truth, she had considered simply halting any further clandestine rendezvous, but had decided against it. At first, she had argued with herself that this lone indulgence was understandable, given the long-term nature of their assignment and the very real possibility that the Talonmight not return home. Finally, however, she had offered a solitary confession to the reflection in her lavatory mirror that her reasons for keeping N’tovek’s company were simple: She enjoyed it, and him.

Further, she could trust the centurion to maintain discretion with regards to their surreptitious relationship, and the advantages to be gained by keeping his silence on the matter. Both of them understood also that if she suspected that was no longer the case, Sarith would simply dispose of him out the nearest airlock.

I’ve already made one mistake,she reminded herself ruefully. There is nothing to be gained by compounding it.

Dressed once again in his uniform, N’tovek smoothed his tussled black hair down atop his head before reaching for the gold helmet that would complete his ensemble. Donning the helmet, he melodramatically came to a position of attention and offered the traditional military salute. “Request permission to take my leave of the commander.”

A small laugh escaped Sarith’s lips even as she made a mental note to have N’tovek wear nothing but the helmet the next time he came to her. “Permission granted, Centurion,” she replied, clasping her clenched fist to her bare chest before returning the salute. “Glory to the empire; crush the Praetor’s enemies.”

That bit of mockery completed, N’tovek relaxed his stance and smiled, stepping closer until he could lean forward and kiss Sarith’s forehead. “I enjoyed this morning.”

“As did I,” Sarith responded with genuine contentment, though she caught the barest hint of worry clouding that sensation. Despite the risks that came with involving one’s self with a subordinate, the brief intervals of reprieve that N’tovek offered when they were together were a welcome distraction from the demands of her command.

Still, as N’tovek turned and departed, leaving her alone in the solace of her quarters, she continued to hear his last words. The look she had seen in his eyes danced in her memory. Was the centurion perhaps considering their trysts to be the start of something more meaningful—or dare he think it permanent? For both their sakes, Sarith hoped that was not the case, for such was a complication she most certainly did not need at this point in time.

Perhaps that airlock isn’t such a bad idea after all.

Gathering the sheets around her, Sarith reveled in the comfort and warmth of her bed. She glanced at the chronometer on the far wall and decided she could afford herself an additional hour before returning to the bridge. A brief nap followed by a refreshing bath, and she would be ready to face the remainder of the day.

Sleep was just beginning to tease the edges of her consciousness when the all-too-familiar tone of the intraship communications system echoed across her quarters from the computer terminal perched atop her desk.

“ Commander Sarith, your presence is requested on the bridge.”

Duty calls,she admitted with amused resignation, tossing the bedclothes aside as she began the hunt for her own uniform.

“Report.”

Everyone on the Bloodied Talon’s bridge stiffened to attention as Sarith made her entrance, all save Ineti, of course. Like the mentoring taskmaster he was, her trusted second-in-command was pacing the perimeter of the small room, keeping a careful eye on the activities of the centurions on duty. He nodded in respectful greeting to Sarith.

“Our long-range sensors have detected three vessels,” Ineti said, “two Tholian and one Klingon, exchanging weapons fire.” Looking to her, he added, “The cloak is cluttering our sensor returns, however, and I was about to order a course correction to bring us closer.”

Listening to the irregular chorus of status indicators and humming machinery packed into and behind the bulkheads forming the ship’s control center, Sarith nodded at Ineti’s report. “Can we do so without risking detection?”

Ineti nodded. “Yes, Commander, if we reduce our power output as we draw closer, we should be able to remain concealed.”

“Make the course change,” Sarith ordered as she crossed the deck to a computer terminal. Like the other workstations on the bridge, the monitor and interface were built directly into a console molded into the angled bulkhead. As she activated the display, she called over her shoulder, “Do we know where either side’s ships came from?”

Still pacing around the central hub of control stations, stopping only to correct the settings on one centurion’s console, Ineti replied, “It appears the Tholians ambushed the Klingon ship, which we initially detected traveling from the direction of a nearby system. According to the star charts our agents were able to intercept from Klingon data transmissions, their military refers to it as the Palgrenax system. Four planets, only one inhabited by a preindustrial culture. From the subspace communications we’ve already decoded, the Klingons have laid claim to the system.”