“Do you think for one minute I can’t find a way around your ‘security measures’?” Pennington asked, his voice low and cold as he spat the words through gritted teeth. “I will be heard, Commodore, one way or another.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Reyes said, his voice and demeanor remaining composed even as his eyes bored into Pennington’s, “just as you should have no doubts about my not tolerating anything which undermines the safety and security of this station, whether that disruption is caused by someone wielding a sword ora pen.”
Swallowing a lump which had formed in his throat, the reporter nodded. “Well, I suppose I should appreciate your being forthright about the situation.”
“Then we have an understanding,” Reyes said, adopting a wistful expression. “Life is so much easier with a few understandings, don’t you think?”
Seething, Pennington only nodded.
The commodore leaned forward, adopting a lower tone. “Listen, I know you see things, hear things. You have your ‘sources,’ and I know that when you’ve poked around here, sometimes you’ve gotten two from me and two from Starfleet Command, and it’s added up to five in your book. Am I right?”
Intrigued at where the discussion might be heading, Pennington also leaned toward the table. “You have my attention, Commodore.”
“Maybe things even added up to five while you were writing about Erilon. Your gut was probably giving you signals, and you thought that, with a little digging, you might even score that story you’re hoping will resurrect your career. You’ll be back in the good graces of your editors. Your readers would believe you again. Your wife…”
“Lora is gone,” Pennington said, cutting off Reyes.
Pausing a moment, the commodore nodded. “Sorry.”
“I said she’s gone,” Pennington repeated, his voice harsher and louder this time as he relived the scene that had greeted him upon entering his apartment after returning to the station with Quinn. During his absence, Lora had returned and stripped his living quarters clean. Not a single piece of furniture, clothing, or even food remained.
The only thing left to greet him was the single sheet of paper, pinned to one bare wall, announcing to all who read it that Lora Brummer sought divorce from her husband, Timothy.
“She even took the lighting elements from the fixtures,” Pennington said, only now realizing that he had recounted the entire depressing scene aloud. “What kind of twisted individual takes the bloody lightingelements?” he asked, anguish enveloping the words as he regarded Reyes.
The commodore studied him a moment before replying. “I said I was sorry, Mr. Pennington, as in ‘I’m sorry, and I understand,’ not ‘I’m sorry, please feel free to discuss it at length with me.’”
Embarrassed at having divulged the disheartening turn his personal life had taken, Pennington cleared his throat, reaching for his now quite cold tea. “My apologies, sir.”
Shaking his head as if to clear it of the sudden detour in the conversation, Reyes said, “What I’m trying to say is that I know you could have made this a huge pain in my ass, but you didn’t, for whatever reason. My guess is that you’re probably waiting for bigger fish to fry. Regardless, I appreciate the restraint you showed, and the respect you paid to those who died on Erilon. I’m here to say thank you, and to tell you that this is something I’ll be keeping in mind for next time.”
“Next time?” Pennington asked.
“Sooner or later,” Reyes said, “you’re going to want to talk to me about something important. Maybe it’ll be something you learn about before I do.” His expression hardening, he added, “Though I doubt it. Anyway, at some point, you’re going to need something from me. If I can trust you to do what’s right—for everyoneinvolved—then I’ll be more inclined to help you.”
“If you’re proposing some sort of partnership,” Pennington said, “then I’ll need more from you and your people than what I’ve gotten to this point, the sort of in-depth information to produce a credible, objective account of what’s going on out here. You promise me that, and I’ll promise you’ll never get sucker-punched by anything I write.”
Saying nothing for several seconds, Reyes nodded. “That requires a level of trust you’ll have to earn. You’re a journalist, Mr. Pennington, and a damned good one. It’s second nature to dig for the great story. What assurances do I have that you won’t run with every juicy little tidbit you get your hands on?”
Pennington shrugged. “I haven’t told anyone you’re sleeping with Captain Desai.”
Even as he uttered the words, he imagined the ambient noise of Tom Walker’s place abruptly dropping to total silence, as every person in the bar turned to face him and regard him with matching expressions that all conveyed the same question now sprinting through his mind: Are you insane?
That did not happen, of course, though neither did Reyes say anything, his expression no more malleable than the bulkhead behind him. Then, a broad grin materialized as if by transporter. “Point taken.”
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.