Pennington offered an uncertain nod. “No problem. Look, I suppose I came here because I wanted to know what happened to you. I wanted to know how a man with your record and reputation could turn his back on everything and everyone he cared about. I can’t believe you’d just walk away from all of that, and I sure as hell could never believe you’d do it to partner up with the enemy.”
“I’d watch your words here if I were you, Mister Pennington,” Reyes said, glancing toward the Orion behind the bar, who was doing his level best to keep his attention on the drinks he was concocting. “There are people skulking about who might not take kindly to some of your views.” If he understood what Pennington was trying to do so far as throwing off the bartender’s covert observations were concerned, he offered no sign. “As for me turning my back on anything, hopefully you’ll recall that I was heading for a penal colony when the ship I was on got blown out from under me. Everything I’ve done since then has been motivated by simple survival.”
His eyes narrowing, Pennington asked, “Does that include collusion with the Klingons?”
Pausing as though to consider his answer, Reyes frowned. “Let’s get something straight: the Klingons were planning that raid on the station. I gave them the information they needed to get in and get out without inflicting casualties.”
“But what about the security concerns?” Pennington asked, struggling to process what he was hearing. “What if we hadn’t been able to get back what they stole from the station?”
“It still wouldn’t have been worth anyone getting hurt,” Reyes said, biting every word. He reached for his glass and gulped down a substantial portion of its contents, after which he all but slammed his glass down onto the bar. When he spoke again, there was no mistaking the new edge in his voice. “Now, are we done here, Mister Pennington?”
Holding up his hand in a gesture, Pennington cast another glance around them before responding. With the exception of the bartender, who truly was doing a very poor job of feigning disinterest, none of the bar’s other patrons appeared to give a damn about anything that did not involve their own drinks or ogling the Orion women serving them.
Damn, this is harder than I thought. It took physical effort for Pennington to keep from repeating his hurried looks around the bar, or otherwise tip off any alert observers that he knew he and Reyes were being watched. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to imply anything, but look at it from where I’m standing. Now, I don’t for one bloody second believe that you could ever betray Starfleet or the Federation, no matter how disillusioned you might’ve become with them.” When Reyes regarded him with a quizzical expression, he added, “Yeah, I heard about what you said at your court-martial.”
Pennington had not been surprised to learn that Reyes had offered no defense for his actions. The commodore had been forced to order Gamma Tauri IV’s destruction in order to contain an attack by a group of runaway Shedai sentinels which had wiped out the Federation colony there. An encounter with other Shedai entities on their apparent home planet resulted in the destruction of the entire Jinoteur system. Reyes had violated his orders and given Pennington approval to write an article for the Federation News Service, recounting what he had witnessed firsthand in the Jinoteur system, along with a companion piece detailing the events on Gamma Tauri IV. Pennington was certain that there was much more to the mystery of the Shedai than had been made public. He also knew that what Reyes had allowed him to expose was damaging to the veil of secrecy in which Starfleet had wrapped Starbase 47’s true purpose in the Taurus Reach.
“Those records are supposed to be sealed,” Reyes countered, lowering his voice so that Pennington could barely hear him above the crowd. “Classified. Top secret, and all that other bullshit.”
The journalist nodded. “And they are, but you still have friends, Diego, whether you want to believe that or not. No matter what you might’ve told those blokes at your trial, you’re still you, and the Diego Reyes I know would never betray his oath, no matter how pissed off he might get at the idiots in charge. Doing what’s right is part of your DNA. That’s why you did what you did and said what you said, and why you allowed me to write what I wrote.” He paused, noting that the bartender seemed once again to be hovering too close. Directing his attention to the Orion, he said, “If you’re going to keep standing there, at least bring me a decent shot of whiskey. In a clean glass, if it’s not too much trouble, mate.” The bartender responded with a menacing glower before turning to reach for a rectangular blue glass bottle on one of the shelves behind the bar.
With the Orion now otherwise engaged, at least for a moment, Pennington redirected his gaze to Reyes. “So far as I and a lot of other people are concerned, you’re a bloody hero for what you did, but none of that matters when we see you consorting with Klingons and Orion pirates. And to help the Klingons steal Shedai technology from the station? You do understand that to casual observers, you look like a traitor, right?”
His gaze fixed on his own glass, Reyes nodded. “I know what I look like.”
“So,” Pennington said, stepping closer, “tell me the casual observers are wrong.”
Both men stood silent as the bartender returned with Pennington’s drink before holding out a beefy jade hand, palm up. It took Pennington a moment to realize the Orion was waiting for payment. “Put it on my tab.”
“I’m closing out your tab,” the bartender replied. “You’ll be leaving soon, and I don’t want you skipping out on your bill.”
Pennington saw Reyes’s expression change as he looked toward the entrance to the gaming floor. “Security’s coming,” he said, scowling. “You’ve got about fifteen seconds before they get here. Anything else you want to say before they toss you out on your ass?”
Turning to look toward the door, the reporter saw a pair of burly Orion males heading toward him. They were bare-chested save for the leather bandoliers that crisscrossed their muscled, jade-green torsos, and their heads were shaved bald. Both guards sported an assortment of gold and silver rings, studs, and other piercings on their faces and bodies, and there was no mistaking the disruptor pistols and sheathed knives each Orion wore suspended from the thick leather belt around his waist.
Uh-oh.
Doing his best to appear resigned to his forthcoming departure, Pennington turned back to Reyes. “Guess that’s my cue,” he said, struggling to maintain his casual demeanor. “Any messages you want me to pass along? Something for Doctor Fisher or the admiral? Hell, if you want, I could even pass on a note to your mother.” Though Pennington saw recognition in Reyes’s eyes as he spoke that last word, the former commodore’s features remained fixed, and he even shrugged before nodding in apparent understanding.
“If you can get word to my mother,” Reyes said, “let her know I’ll try to send a message soon.”
Well, that’s bloody insightful, Pennington thought, but kept his musing to himself. What the hell was Reyes’s response supposed to mean, anyway? Rather than spend too much time contemplating that question, he instead offered a simple nod. “You got it, mate.”
His reply was punctuated by the pressure of a large hand on his shoulder, and he turned to the owner of the hand, one of the Orion security guards, towering over him. The guard’s expression was one of controlled disdain, and Pennington was sure that the Orion would happily kill him where he stood with only the slightest provocation.
“Mister Pennington,” the guard asked, his voice low and gravelly, as though he had spent the past few hours inhaling some of the pernicious substances people around the bar were smoking, “we’ve been asked to escort you to the docking port.”