Of equal interest to her was her exact location. Stepping closer to the door before her—its duranium surface coated with a synthetic polymer designed to simulate the dark wood of a native Earth tree—T’Prynn reached out and with her fingers caressed the small black plate etched with white lettering that denoted the apartment number. It took only an instant to search her memory and recall the identity of the resident assigned to these quarters.
Timothy D. Pennington.
Of all the places on the station to which she might have come, why here? The reporter was not a friend of hers, or even a casual acquaintance, their only interaction coming as a result of his bothersome investigations into the Bombayincident and the steps she had taken to neutralize the threat his efforts represented.
Perhaps regret has guided you here, or even guilt.
T’Prynn could not determine if the voice taunting her was Sten’s or a product of her own turbulent thoughts. Regardless, she refused to accept the notion. Diffusing the credibility of the story Pennington had submitted regarding the loss of the Bombayand the Tholians’ culpability in the incident had served a valuable purpose, of that she was certain. That the journalist had endured both professional and personal difficulty as a result of her actions was an unfortunate yet necessary collateral consequence. While one life had been disrupted, to be sure, countless others that would have been at risk in the face of a Federation-Tholian conflict had instead been safeguarded.
Logic demanded no other course.
Is it truly that simple?
“Enough.”
The word, spoken aloud, startled T’Prynn, and she looked around to see if anyone might have overheard her. She was relieved to see that the corridor remained empty, but it would not stay that way. It would be prudent to depart before her presence here engendered questions from passersby that best were left unasked.
Still, returning to her quarters was not an option she welcomed. While she knew meditation would ease her current mental turmoil, the truth was that fatigue was tugging at the edges of her consciousness. Attempting to meditate in such a state would be problematic at best.
Alone in the corridor, T’Prynn allowed the ghost of a smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. No, she decided as she turned and headed for the row of turbolifts servicing this area of the apartment complex, another means of relaxation would be better.
45
Silence engulfed the bridge of the Bloodied Talon,acutely palpable and yet seeming so vulnerable that Sarith feared any movement or hint of sound might destroy not only the envelope of quiet but also any chance for survival remaining to her and her crew.
“Distance three thousand mat’drih,”Darjil said, his voice low. “Approaching from astern, Commander.”
Sarith heard the mounting tension in the centurion’s voice despite his best efforts to maintain his bearing. Hearing the younger officer provide the report from sensors that normally would have been delivered by N’tovek was like an abrasive pad rubbed against an open and raw wound. She ignored her personal grief, pushing it aside as duty demanded, and instead returned her focus to the Klingon battle cruiser depicted on the main viewscreen.
Sensors had first detected the vessel near the end of the previous duty shift. The ship’s presence followed that of an automated sensor probe, also of Klingon design, which had passed within three light-years of the Talontwo days earlier. Analysis of the cruiser’s course showed that it was mirroring that of the drone, perhaps searching for signs of Tholian activity in the vicinity of the Palgrenax system.
“It seems someone knows we are here,” Ineti said from where he stood beside her.
Nodding, Sarith replied, “They know something is here, that much is certain.” Stepping toward the central hub, she leaned closer to Darjil in order to see his workstation’s sensor display. Recognizing the standard search pattern the Klingon ship was effecting, she shook her head. “I suppose it was only a matter of time.”
The portent of unfortunate things to come had arrived in the form of a systems status report delivered by her chief engineering officer, Jacius, during the early hours of the previous day. One of the distribution nodes channeling power to the Talon’s cloaking device had failed and, according to Jacius, there were no replacements.
All options to manufacture a substitute using available materials had also been explored and exhausted, the result being that while the cloak still functioned to maintain the ship’s practical invisibility, the concealment of its power emissions no longer was total. Though the odds were fair that a passing vessel might not register the wounded ship’s presence, if someone were to take the time to examine sensor readings for anomalies, they might find sufficient reason to arouse suspicion.
The destruction of a planet surely was enough to heighten someone’s vigilance,Sarith mused.
With that in mind, she had ordered a circuitous route out of the Taurus Reach, plotting a course that would not offer any clues that the ship, if discovered, was making an attempt to travel toward Romulan space. It was a simple plan, though one she hoped would at least avoid providing any additional clues as to their identity should they be detected.
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.