“It seems that someone hasn’t read the intelligence briefings on the Tholians,” a voice said from behind Sarith, and she turned to see her second-in-command, Subcommander Ineti, entering the bridge from the service corridor. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, warming his cragged, angular features. “Or the very least, the material appended to those briefings by the senate’s liaison from the Medical Division has been overlooked, specifically the information pertaining to the Tholians’ formidable telepathic abilities.”

Despite a paternal, almost mentoring tone that was a perfect accompaniment to his aged countenance, there still was no mistaking the rebuke in Ineti’s voice.

“I apologize for my oversight, Subcommander,” Darjil reported as he snapped to attention. “There was much information to review, and I felt it prudent to concentrate on the military aspects of the vessels we were likely to encounter during this mission.”

Sarith suppressed a smile as the centurion delivered his weak attempt at an explanation. Despite this being his second long-term assignment aboard the Bloodied Talon,Darjil still had not yet learned that the best response to Ineti’s frequent observations on how the crew might go about improving themselves was simply to acknowledge the proffered recommendations and commence acting on them as soon as possible.

“Considering the tasks the Praetor has given to us,” Ineti replied, crossing his arms as he commenced a leisurely circuit of the bridge, “I commend you on your sense of priorities. However, if I may be so bold, Centurion, perhaps upon the conclusion of your current duty shift, rather than spending your time and your funds engaged in games of chance with the misguided hopes of increasing your meager wealth, you might instead attempt to extend your knowledge of the Tholians into areas that do not directly pertain to their military capabilities. After all, an enemy can pose a threat in many ways that do not relate to their ability to brandish a weapon. Would you not agree?”

It was the executive officer’s habit never to raise his voice or vary his inflections even to the smallest degree when addressing perceived deficiencies in his subordinates. Not that it mattered, because only a fool would mistake the subcommander’s suggestions as anything less than an ironclad directive that he expected to be followed without hesitation or stipulation.

“Absolutely, Subcommander,” Darjil replied, an unmistakable tremor now evident in the junior officer’s voice as he stood ramrod straight and stared straight ahead—even when Ineti came to a stop and leaned forward until his face was less than a finger’s length from Darjil’s right ear.

“Learn everything that you can about your enemy, Centurion, and not just those aspects which dovetail with your chosen area of expertise. Only then can you hope to truly be victorious. Now, return to your station.”

Not even bothering to wait for an acknowledgment of his order before turning away from the control hub, Ineti stepped closer to Sarith, waiting until he was out of the line of sight of any of the centurions manning the bridge’s stations before allowing a wolfish smile to grace his wizened features.

“Youthful exuberance,” he said in a low voice. “So much energy, so little focus. Was I ever like that, I wonder?”

“I don’t believe our historical records chronicle events that far in the past,” Sarith retorted as she turned from the bridge’s main deck and moved toward the small alcove that served as both her station in the ship’s command center and her office. Its dominant feature was a simple desk, fashioned from the same metal as the deck plating and jutting out from the bulkhead. Atop it sat a computer terminal and a control pad, which allowed her access to the ship’s communications system. A pair of functional chairs, bolted to the deck and the only two to be found in the already cramped control room, completed her station’s furnishings. While it was not nearly as lavish as the private chambers allotted to the commanders of larger vessels, the alcove adequately served Sarith’s purposes.

Taking the chair positioned on the outer edge of the alcove, Ineti offered a knowing grin as he settled himself. “So, another glorious victory for the Praetor, yes?”

Sarith looked about the bridge, wondering whether any of the bridge crew had overheard him. Thankfully, the omnipresent thrum of the Talon’s engines had muffled his voice, preventing it from carrying across the cramped chamber. “I wish you would learn to be more…guarded with some of your observations, Ineti,” she said. “It would better serve you in your quest to end your career on a positive note.”

“I’m afraid it’s more than a bit late for me to make such a fundamental alteration in my admittedly flawed approach to life, Commander,” Ineti replied. “Besides, it’s not as though I’ll ever be considered for a ship of my own. Such opportunities have long since traveled beyond my reach, I’m afraid.” Shrugging, he added, “As it happens, I’m content to ply my skills as a teacher, and to keep youout of trouble.”

Smiling in spite of herself, Sarith shook her head. In truth, she knew that Ineti was all but untouchable in the eyes of the Senate, Fleet Command, or even the empire’s intelligence bureau. His career, already long and distinguished even before she was born, had all but assured him a place of prominence not only in the halls of Romulan power but also in the annals of their history. A decorated veteran of numerous conflicts—including campaigns waged alongside her father during the war against the forces of Earth and its allies more than a century ago—Ineti could well have ascended to the Senate itself had he ever sought such prominence.

However, his propensity for speaking his mind—regardless of the subject or whoever might overhear—had soured him in the eyes of those who oversaw the advancement of officers into the higher echelons of military command and political office. While popular opinion prevented them from taking direct action against him, those individuals nevertheless found more surreptitious methods for making their displeasure known to him.

At least,Sarith thought with no small amount of amusement, that’s what Ineti chooses to let them believe. So far as she was concerned, the shortsightedness of certain narrow-minded cowards at Fleet Command was to her advantage, as it allowed her to continue benefiting from the aged warrior’s learned counsel.

“Keep me out of trouble?” she repeated after a moment. “If that were true, then where were you when the Tholian vessel detected us?”

“In the engine compartment, trying to learn how it was possible in the first place,” Ineti replied. “Apparently, the cloaking device’s energy dissipation rate is such that it can register on another vessel’s short-range sensors within a certain distance.”

Sarith nodded, considering her mentor’s report. “So, we approached too close to our enemy.”

“I believe that is what I said,” Ineti replied, mild amusement playing across his otherwise stoic expression. His features hardened, however, as he leaned across the narrow desk. “We were fortunate on this occasion that it was a single vessel that we easily outmatched. Such providence may not visit us next time, particularly if the Tholians were able to dispatch a distress call. We need to exercise more caution if we are to continue our mission undetected.”

“I would have preferred to avoid contact altogether,” Sarith said, leaning back in her chair and allowing her head to rest against the bulkhead behind her. Her standing orders to avoid detection at all costs made no other decision possible. “Unfortunately, the cloak’s power requirements tend to degrade the performance of other onboard systems.” In addition to its impact on the ship’s weapons and defensive systems, the cloaking device also compromised the sensors such that the only way to obtain decent telemetry was to approach objects of interest much more closely than normally would be required.