Feeling relief wash over him at the realization that the commodore was not—for the moment, at least—going to kick his ass all over the bar, Pennington returned the smile. “So, we have an agreement, then?”

The grin vanished.

“We’ll talk later,” Reyes said, rising from his seat and marching toward the bar without another word.

Watching the commodore leave, no doubt returning to the station’s operations center and the plethora of responsibilities that came with his rank and station, Pennington reached for his tea. The beverage might be cold, he decided, but it did nothing to quell the fire of curiosity and resolve heating up in the core of his being and beginning to spread outward with growing intensity.

I think this place just got a whole lot more interesting.

Elsewhere

50

No matter how many times he entered the hallowed chamber of the Romulan Senate, Praetor Vrax never once failed to appreciate the sensation of near-reverence he experienced. Regardless of the situation at hand and despite whatever mental burden plagued him on any given day, he always paused for a moment to reflect upon the history and power emanating from this room.

For what it lacked in size, the Senate Chamber more than compensated with its grandiose appointments, furnishings, and perhaps even the arrogance that had embodied its construction. Situated at the geographic center of Dartha, the capital city of Romulus, the circular hall remained largely unchanged from the first time Vrax had entered its storied confines as a junior senator more than a century earlier. Pairs of polished marble columns positioned equidistantly around the chamber’s perimeter supported its high, domed ceiling. Ornate tapestries decorated the walls, and granite tiles dominated the room’s open debate floor, upon which had been painted an artist’s rendition of a star map depicting the expanse of the Romulan Star Empire as well as the border it shared with the United Federation of Planets.

What Vrax also never failed to notice upon his entry into the Senate Chamber was that the map had remained unaltered for nearly as long as he had been coming to this revered place.

In due time, and with good fortune on our side, that will change,he reminded himself.

The proconsul, Sret, brought the chamber to order as Vrax stepped farther into the room. Various conversations taking place between senators and onlookers extinguished as everyone rose in deference to his arrival. Relying on his cane while eschewing his aide’s offer of assistance to reach his chair at the center of the dais situated along the chamber’s northern wall, Vrax nodded to several of the senators he passed as he took his place. Before lowering his aged body into his seat, he paused to regard the audience of politicians gathered here this evening. The audience seating area, which consisted of four rows of seats positioned opposite the senatorial stage, was empty on this day, in keeping with the private nature of this closed session.

“Greetings, Praetor,” Proconsul Sret said, offering a formal nod that Vrax knew to be no more genuine than the majority of military and political accomplishments with which the younger man chose to embellish his official biography. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us at this late hour.”

“The business and interests of the Romulan people do not usually confine themselves to anything resembling a normal schedule,” Vrax replied, the ghost of a smile teasing the edges of his mouth. “As such, we’ll forgo your execution for another time.” The comment elicited mild laughter from the senators seated around him, despite what he suspected were serious reasons for convening this session.

Any sense of informality was lost, however, with Sret’s next words.

“We have lost contact with the Bloodied Talon,Praetor,” the proconsul said, his voice appropriately subdued and grave. “Based on the last report received from Commander Sarith, we have reason to believe she may have been left with no recourse but to destroy her vessel in order to prevent detection.”

“Are you certain?” Vrax asked, his intellect already providing him with the answer he did not want to hear before Sret could even reply. He could not help but glance to where his vice-proconsul, Toqel, stood silent and unmoving near the rows of empty seats composing the audience’s viewing area. The uniform of her office was as immaculate as always and her dark hair cropped closer to her scalp in a style even more severe than that preferred by many veteran male military officers, but Vrax saw the resolute set to her narrow jaw and the dark circles seeming to add years to her age. Her expression was that of stone, belying the turmoil of emotions she must surely be keeping in check.

Again, Sret bowed his head. “As certain as we can be under the circumstances, my praetor. Commander Sarith was maintaining strict communications containment protocols in order to avoid detection, submitting her reports only at the directed intervals and frequencies.”

Stepping forward until she stood next to the proconsul, Toqel said, “According to the commander’s last transmission, her vessel was in danger of being detected by vessels traversing the region.”

Vrax already was familiar with the circumstances surrounding the Talon’s impaired condition, having read with no small amount of incredulity Commander Sarith’s report of the apparent destruction of an entire planet in what the Federation was calling the Palgrenax system, as well as the horrific experience of being caught in the midst of the resulting shock wave and debris storm. Even more unsettling was the commander’s assertion that it appeared to have been caused by a weapon of indescribable force, at least if the sensor data she had sent along to corroborate her report was any indication, and the fact that the possessors of such a weapon remained a mystery.

Who or what has the Federation angered in the Taurus Reach?

Toqel had paused in her report, and Vrax watched as the woman’s otherwise impeccable bearing was marred—if only for an instant—while she cleared her throat. He nodded to her, appreciating the vice-proconsul’s efforts to maintain her composure. He could only imagine how difficult it must be for her now, having to carry out this most unpleasant of duties, all while mourning the death of her only child.

“I grieve for your loss, Toqel,” he said, saddened even further by the fact that Commander Sarith’s final heroic act would be all but ignored by the pages of history. For the sake of security, all knowledge of the Bloodied Talon’s doomed last mission would have to be buried and forgotten, lest it be discovered by spies—either Federation or working for another government—and trigger a hunt for the dozens of other ships like the Talonwhich were at this moment conducting invaluable covert surveillance on the empire’s myriad potential enemies.

The vice-proconsul, sworn to lifelong duty and loyalty, knew this, of course. “She and her crew served the Praetor. That alone makes their sacrifice a noble one.”

To Vrax’s left and seated at one of the desks reserved for the senators, D’tran leaned forward in his chair, gathering his dark robes about him as he asked, “Did Commander Sarith destroy her ship as a precaution, or did she engage an enemy?” His voice, low and raspy, was a sign of his own advanced age; he was older than even Vrax himself.

Sret shook his head. “We are not certain, Senator, but we believe the Talonmay have been trying to avoid detection by a Klingon battle cruiser.”