Had the ends justified the means?
Pushing away the thoughts while knowing they would revisit him in due time, Reyes turned to Jetanien. “Okay, what’ve you got up yoursleeve?”
“It seems the most prudent course of action would be to bring our resident Klingon and Tholian delegations together for a summit of sorts,” the ambassador replied. “Perhaps by working together here, we can hammer out some form of accord that’s agreeable to all parties.”
The very notion of the Klingons, Tholians, and Jetanien all corralled into the same room for any length of time sent a fresh stab of pain to Reyes’s temples. “Why don’t I save us some time,” he said, “and just activate the station’s self-destruct protocols?”
Though Vanguard currently played host to diplomatic envoys from the Federation as well as the Klingon Empire and the Tholian Assembly—a measure seen as a judicious forethought at the time of its institution—Reyes himself had questioned the prudence of the idea. Tholians of any professional stripe could be counted upon to be reserved and paranoid in all their dealings with those not of their own race, and in that regard could be somewhat predictable. Klingon politicians, on the other hand, could be annoyingly fastidious in how they chose to comport themselves, switching indiscriminately between slavish devotion to their warrior caste’s honor code and the more nuanced, duplicitous nature that seemed to characterize their own diplomatic corps.
Or any politician, for that matter.
Despite his misgivings, Reyes was forced to admit that having representatives from the other governments had to be of some benefit with regard to the current situation. What he wondered though was whether Jetanien, even with his impressive record of diplomatic achievements, was up to confronting the formidable task of bringing the Tholians and Klingons to the same negotiating table.
As if reading his thoughts, the Chelon leaned toward Reyes. “I have no doubts that what I propose will be difficult, Commodore,” he said. “However, I see no alternative if we are to pursue a peaceful resolution to what is quickly becoming a volatile state of affairs. Rest assured that I will employ all methods at my disposal toward meeting that goal.”
“I don’t doubt that you will, Ambassador,” Reyes replied, and he meant it. He only wished he could view his own role in what might lie ahead with equal confidence.
While he was content to keep his concerns to himself, it was T’Prynn who gave them voice as she turned to regard Reyes.
“With no disrespect intended toward the ambassador, sir,” she said, “if a diplomatic solution cannot be reached, we may have to be ready with a more direct course of action in order to protect our interests in the region.”
Though couched in words that were not immediately provocative, there was no mistaking the meaning behind T’Prynn’s statement.
If there’s going to be a fight, we have to be ready to get bloody.
19
With the bedcovers carelessly tossed to the floor of her quarters, Sarith lay atop her bed in soft repose, allowing the sweat of their lovemaking to cool her body as she watched N’tovek rise and begin to gather the components of his uniform. Her right hand absently stroked the sheets beside her, still warm to the touch from the heat of his body.
“Are you in that much of a hurry to make your escape?” she asked as she watched her lover fumble for his clothes, her tone teasing. “Is that fear I see in your eyes, Centurion?” Her eyes traced the lines of his unclothed body, noting the fresh scratches across his back and the tinge of green blood highlighting them. It seemed her enthusiasm had gotten the best of her, again.
Retrieving one boot from where it had fallen next to the small wardrobe positioned against the bulkhead opposite the bed, N’tovek looked to her and returned the smile. “I don’t think there is a safe answer to that question, Commander,” he offered with mock formality as he began dressing. “Not that it matters. I must report for duty.”
Lying naked in her bed, her body still aglow in the aftermath of the brief but passionate interlude they had shared, Sarith for a moment was tempted to exercise command prerogative and simply call for a replacement to be assigned to N’tovek’s station. She just as quickly dismissed the notion, however. While Sarith knew it was unwise to fraternize with members of her crew, it would be far more damaging if word spread across the ship that she was allowing anyone to shirk his responsibilities in favor of being her consort.
In truth, she had considered simply halting any further clandestine rendezvous, but had decided against it. At first, she had argued with herself that this lone indulgence was understandable, given the long-term nature of their assignment and the very real possibility that the Talonmight not return home. Finally, however, she had offered a solitary confession to the reflection in her lavatory mirror that her reasons for keeping N’tovek’s company were simple: She enjoyed it, and him.
Further, she could trust the centurion to maintain discretion with regards to their surreptitious relationship, and the advantages to be gained by keeping his silence on the matter. Both of them understood also that if she suspected that was no longer the case, Sarith would simply dispose of him out the nearest airlock.
I’ve already made one mistake,she reminded herself ruefully. There is nothing to be gained by compounding it.
Dressed once again in his uniform, N’tovek smoothed his tussled black hair down atop his head before reaching for the gold helmet that would complete his ensemble. Donning the helmet, he melodramatically came to a position of attention and offered the traditional military salute. “Request permission to take my leave of the commander.”
A small laugh escaped Sarith’s lips even as she made a mental note to have N’tovek wear nothing but the helmet the next time he came to her. “Permission granted, Centurion,” she replied, clasping her clenched fist to her bare chest before returning the salute. “Glory to the empire; crush the Praetor’s enemies.”
That bit of mockery completed, N’tovek relaxed his stance and smiled, stepping closer until he could lean forward and kiss Sarith’s forehead. “I enjoyed this morning.”
“As did I,” Sarith responded with genuine contentment, though she caught the barest hint of worry clouding that sensation. Despite the risks that came with involving one’s self with a subordinate, the brief intervals of reprieve that N’tovek offered when they were together were a welcome distraction from the demands of her command.
Still, as N’tovek turned and departed, leaving her alone in the solace of her quarters, she continued to hear his last words. The look she had seen in his eyes danced in her memory. Was the centurion perhaps considering their trysts to be the start of something more meaningful—or dare he think it permanent? For both their sakes, Sarith hoped that was not the case, for such was a complication she most certainly did not need at this point in time.
Perhaps that airlock isn’t such a bad idea after all.
Gathering the sheets around her, Sarith reveled in the comfort and warmth of her bed. She glanced at the chronometer on the far wall and decided she could afford herself an additional hour before returning to the bridge. A brief nap followed by a refreshing bath, and she would be ready to face the remainder of the day.