Studying the sensor data, Sarith frowned as she weighed the situation. “They are sweeping the area with full sensors,” she said. “Their weapons are armed, but their shields are down.” She shook her head. “Typical Klingon arrogance.”
“You expected something else?” Ineti asked, offering a small smile. “So far as the Klingons know, they possess the most formidable vessels in this area of space. The Tholians certainly have nothing to stand against them.”
It was a logical assessment, Sarith agreed, even though it did not take into account the capabilities of whatever ships the Federation might have deployed into the region. While spies had smuggled information on Starfleet’s current and proposed starship designs back to Romulus over the years—information that Sarith had read and absorbed prior to departing on this mission—that was altogether different from seeing such a vessel firsthand.
Once more, she felt momentary regret that she would not have such an opportunity, a sensation she had experienced several times since misfortune had fallen upon the Talon. Facing off with a Starfleet vessel was something to which many Romulan ship commanders aspired, all of whom had been raised on stories of the war the empire had waged and failed to win against Earth and its allies.
Sarith would not achieve that goal, just as she knew she had failed to accomplish her primary mission here. The Federation’s motivations for venturing into the Taurus Reach, and why that expansion had triggered such vociferous reactions not only from the Klingons but the Tholians as well, would remain a mystery to the Romulan people for a while longer.
“Sixteen hundred mat’drihand closing, Commander,” Darjil reported, looking away from his station to regard her with an expression of heightening anxiety. Sarith understood the centurion’s cause for concern. The enemy ship was mere moments from being able to detect her own wounded vessel.
“Are they in contact with anyone?” she asked.
Darjil shook his head. “No, Commander. They have not established communications frequencies or dispatched any messages since entering sensor range.”
“That means they still do not know for what they search,” Ineti said, stepping closer to the central workstations. “If we are going to act, Commander, then now is the time.”
“Agreed,” Sarith said, knowing without the need for clarification what her trusted friend was implying. What she did not tell him was that it was not the action he had implicitly proposed but merely his concerns with which she concurred. He was right to suggest what he had, of course, as it was the one option that would ensure her ship was not discovered and captured by the approaching enemy vessel.
As she considered the measure, her eyes drifted to the control console situated along one side of the bridge’s central hub, the single station that was coded for access only by herself and Ineti. She regarded the set of switches positioned there, her mind recalling the proper sequence needed to set the protocol into motion. It would take only seconds, and when it was over, there would be nothing left of her ship for an enemy to recover.
Duty demanded Sarith take that action—now.
She felt her jaw clench at the notion as she regarded the Klingon ship on the screen. The idea that she must commit suicide because of the chance wanderings of pitiful dregs such as those crewing the approaching vessel made her want to vomit. No,she decided, there is another way.
At the sensor console, Darjil called out, “Enemy vessel has altered its course, Commander, heading directly toward us. Eight hundred mat’drihand closing.”
Straightening her posture, Sarith turned to Jacius, who had come to the bridge to monitor shipboard systems from here rather than dwell in the depths of the ship’s engineering section. “Can we arm weapons without being detected?”
Jacius nodded. “Yes, though our power signature will become more noticeable if the Klingon ship comes any closer.”
“Let it be noticeable, then,” Sarith replied as she locked eyes with Ineti. “With the exception of the cloak, reroute all power to the weapons. On my command, channel that power to forward disruptors, as well.”
Ineti smiled. “One last triumphant battle for the Praetor?” he asked.
Unable to return the expression, Sarith nodded before turning her attention to the expectant faces of her officers. As one, they all looked to her, loyal to the end, ready to carry out whatever orders she gave them in service to the empire.
Then her eyes fell on the battle cruiser now dominating the viewer, its bulbous primary hull looming as though preparing to burst through the screen. She imagined she could almost see the faces of Klingons looking out through the ports peppering the hull, unprepared for what was to come next.
“One last duty to perform,” Sarith said after a moment, her reply punctuated by the proximity alert signal emitted by the sensor console, notifying everyone on the bridge that the Klingon ship had closed to prime weapons range and telling her it was time to issue her final order as commander of the Bloodied Talon,servant and protector of the Romulan Star Empire.
“Execute.”
46
Even with the added quiet, given the absence of the steady thrum of the Endeavour’s warp engines, which were deactivated while the ship was cradled in the embrace of Vanguard’s docking bay three, Khatami found that the solitude and serenity of her quarters did little to enable her concentration on the task at hand. Despite hours spent at her desk, perusing file after file from the ship’s personnel database, she seemed unable to make what was turning out to be one of the most difficult decisions of her still young captaincy.
“Captain’s Personal Log, supplemental,” she spoke to the computer. “So the question remains: Who’s my first officer?”
Once more—she had long since lost count of how many times she had repeated this process during the evening—her eyes scanned her desktop viewer, reviewing and comparing the service records of her top three candidates. She had stalled the decision long enough, she knew, waiting until after returning from Erilon, part of her feeling as though she still occupied the post herself. It could be delayed no longer.
“Lieutenant Commander Norton does a fine job leading beta shift,” she said. “He has experience and his record clearly makes him the strongest candidate, but he’s prickly and overly officious.” Shrugging to herself, she added, “There’s Lieutenant Stano from gamma shift. She’s very capable and very respected by her team, but she’s not the most efficient person in Starfleet. And I know she’s on the sciences track, but I can see some real leadership qualities in Lieutenant T’Pes….”
Khatami let her voice trail off as she wondered whether she would be able to build a quick confidence and rapport with any one of them, as she had done with Ensign Klisiewicz. Through their shared need to immerse themselves in the secret information about the meta-genome, they had begun to forge a bond of trust, and it was one she appreciated more than he might realize. Other than herself, there was no one on board who understood more about the meta-genome and Starfleet’s greater mission in the Taurus Reach than he did.
She had made a point soon after the Endeavour’s departure from Erilon to meet with the young ensign and express her thanks; not only for the assistance he had lent her on the bridge during that mind-numbing first attack, but also for his willingness to step quickly into a role of research and responsibility. He surely must be viewing his posting on the starship as a much greater job than he ever imagined, she remembered asking. And she knew she never would forget his reply.