“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.”
Troubled murmurs echoed through the Senate Chamber at the mention of the empire’s longtime enemy. Though there had been no direct hostilities with the Klingons in many years, Vrax had known at the time of the Bloodied Talon’s departure for the distant Taurus Reach that the possibility existed for the vessel to encounter battleships in service to the Romulan people’s storied foe. Indeed, the report he had read of the ship’s earlier close call with a Klingon warship was still fresh in his memory.
By Vrax’s recollection, it had been decades since the last known encounter with the Klingon Empire. There had been a brief conflict in the years following the protracted war against Earth and her allies, as Romulus attempted to expand away from the region of space claimed by the then-fledgling United Federation of Planets. The Klingons, always on the hunt for new worlds to conquer owing to their ceaseless need for resources that were unavailable within their own territorial borders, had attempted to establish footholds within Romulan space, perhaps thinking Romulan forces depleted in the aftermath of the protracted conflict with the humans.
And our forces, weak though they may have been, certainly showed our enemies the errors of such thinking.
“It seems,” Vrax said after a moment, “that we are not the only ones with thoughts of expansion. In addition to the humans, our old adversaries from the Klingon Empire seem to have been gripped by a similar desire.” He knew also that hostilities would almost certainly be an inevitable consequence of this action, particularly in instances of newly claimed territory being disputed.
“All things being equal, Praetor, I would agree,” replied D’tran, the chamber’s subdued illumination reflecting off his thinning silver hair. “From what we know of the Federation, they would seek peaceful coexistence rather than enter into a dispute over territory. Why, then, would they seek to expand their borders into a region of space that is flanked by two potentially fierce enemies? Surely they know the risks they run by angering the Klingons, and the Tholians are little more than xenophobic reactionaries. The humans and their allies would seem to be asking for war.”
Senator Anitra, a woman far younger than most of her companions on the dais but as comfortable with her position as those who had served far longer, rose from her seat and stepped onto the main floor. “According to our intelligence reports, the Federation seems preoccupied with their usual glut of pursuits and would appear all but oblivious to the political maelstrom they’ve helped to engineer. They have established settlements on dozens of worlds. A handful of those are large, permanent colonies. A network of trade vectors has already been enacted, to say nothing of regular patrol routes for several Starfleet ships assigned to the sector.”
When Anitra paused and held up her hand, her dark, calculating eyes locking with his own, Vrax almost surrendered to the urge to smile. What the young senator lacked in age, she more than compensated for with her passion and flair for the dramatic.