Kell leaned back in his chair. “I see, Tain, that you have the tendency of most of your kind to show off your precious intelligence gathering for no good reason. What, pray tell, does any of this have to do with what happened at the Betreka Nebula?”
“That they will fight to regain something they deem sacred,” Tain said plainly, since subtlety seemed lost on the legate.
“Let them offer to obtain it from us, then. But they cannot refute our legitimate claim on Raknal V!”
Tain had nothing to say to such tiresome posturing. Alnak, however, did: “I wonder, Legate, how you would feel if a Klingon ship lay claim to a planet on which they found ruins of the First Hebitians.”
This is it,Tain thought. Kell’s answer to this question would resolve for Tain once and for all whether or not the legate had two brain cells to rub together, or was just another typical Central Command drone.
But Kell did not answer the question. He did not say, “I would react the same way as I am now,” which would serve to strengthen his position. He did not even say, “That would be a different matter—Cardassian ruins are a matter of national import,” which would be ethnocentric, but at least in character and reasonable.
Instead, he simply sat there, fuming. It was the worst possible way to respond to the speaker’s question, and it firmly lodged Kell in the “fool” column of Tain’s mental ledger.
Part of him was relieved. Such a fool would be child’s play to manipulate. Another part was disappointed that he would be denied the challenge of a worthy adversary in Central Command. Ah, well—perhaps there are some lesser legates or guls who can at least keep things interesting.
Alnak riffled through her padds, finally coming up with one. “We received a message from the Klingon High Council, saying that they wish to stake a claim to Raknal V. They are willing to negotiate, but will fight to regain the wreckage if they have to.”
“Pfah,” Kell said with a dismissive gesture. “Those imbeciles don’t negotiate. It’s a ploy to gather their forces.”
Tain tried to keep the disdain out of his voice as he responded to Kell. He had his mind made up before he came in here.However, Tain preferred to glean information before making any kind of decision—not that he ever made a decision that he couldn’t go back on if the need arose. But the news that the Klingons were willing to negotiate was telling, and fit the available data. “The Klingons are only three-and-a-half decades removed from the catastrophic destruction of their moon. Even with Federation aid and the passage of time, their resources are limited. I would surmise that they do not wish to go to war unless they have to.”
“Then let them. If they are as weak as you seem to think, Tain, then they should be easy to destroy.”
“If they were that easy to destroy,” Tain said with a small smile, “why have we not conquered them? Or the Romulans? The Federation?”
Kell sneered. “I should think that even one such as you would understand the military reasons for that, Tain. They are too distant from our current borders. To invade the Klingon Empire would mean a great commitment of resources to a distant campaign that would leave our internal defenses weakened.”
“Congratulations, Legate,” Tain said with an amiable smile. “You have just made the best case for why we should not pursue this matter militarily.”
“Tain is correct,” Alnak said before Kell could reply. “While the Betreka Sector is closer than the Klingon border, it is still too distant for us to wage a proper campaign.”
“Your military expertise tells you this?” Kell asked, turning his sneer on the speaker.
Again, Alnak riffled through her padds. “I have here a complete list of the present troop and ship deployments of the ships under the jurisdiction of Central Command. There are only two ways to divert the necessary resources to wage war in the Betreka Sector—to leave other sectors undefended and abandon our current plan of expansion, or to construct more ships and draft more troops. The former is unacceptable—Cardassia needs to expand its borders if we are to continue our food and jobs programs—and the latter would be costly.”
Just as Tain had consigned Kell to the fool column, he found himself forced to move Speaker Alnak from “irrelevant” to “worth keeping an eye on.” The Detapa Council was mostly toothless, but they served a purpose, and knowing that its First Speaker had a brain in her head was another useful nugget of information. Tain was already thinking of ways to exploit that nugget.
Even as those thoughts turned over in his mind, he said, “The Obsidian Order’s position is the same. The expansion program is far more important than getting into a protracted and distant skirmish with the Klingons—one that we are not guaranteed to win. And even if we do,” he added quickly, cutting off the wounded reply that he knew Kell would give at his show of disrespect to the Cardassian military, “the Klingons will make this a bloody and costly conflict. Few of their wars have ever been simple or quick.”
“I appreciate the concerns that you both raise,” Kell said, “but ultimately, they are irrelevant.”
The legate’s stupidity knows no bounds.“Really?”
Kell smiled. “Central Command needs no one’s permission to wage war, Tain. That is solely our purview. If we wish to fight the Klingons for Raknal V, then we shall fight them. The Cardassian people need zenite, and Raknal V has it. That is all that matters.”
Tain smiled right back. “And who will provide intelligence reports for your military?”
Dismissively, Kell said, “We have our own intelligence resources.”
It was all Tain could do to keep from laughing in Kell’s face at the very idea. One of the reasons why the Obsidian Order existed was because of the military’s woeful lack of “intelligence resources.” Every attempt they had made to cultivate some had met with dismal failure.
Alnak fixed Kell with a gaze that might have been penetrating had her hair not been in such disarray. “And with what will you pay for this war, Legate?”
That brought Kell up short, and for the second time, the speaker left the legate speechless. Two times too many,Tain thought.
“It is true,” Alnak continued, “that the Detapa Council cannot actually stop you from waging war if it is war you wish to wage. But it is the Council that must approve of any budgetary amendments you might want to make—and you will need to make several in order to fight the Klingons. It is also the Council that is responsible for overseeing any new taxes or conscriptions that must take place. I can assure you right now, Legate, that the Council will feel no obligation to make life easy on Central Command if they choose this course of action.”
Tain was grateful that, in this at least, Alnak was on his side. He’d hate to have to kill her.
Whatever Kell’s failings, however, he knew when he was defeated. Without the support of the Order or the Council, his ability to fight the Klingons would be severely curtailed. Leaning forward in his chair, he said, “Very well. If we are to negotiate, who is to mediate?”
“The Federation,” Alnak said without hesitation. “It is the wish of the Council that we attempt to rehabilitate our relationship with the Federation after that unfortunate incident on Vulcan last year.”
Tain of course made no reaction; Kell did seethe a bit, though. It had been a joint Central Command/Obsidian Order operation to disrupt the summit at Vulcan in order to sever ties between the Federation and the Legarans. Unfortunately, as with most joint operations between the two bodies, it was a disaster. Central Command had, of course, insisted that the saboteurs were renegades, but the Federation was not made up of fools. Legara IV remained under the protection of the Federation’s military arm, Starfleet, and the Federation now viewed Cardassia as a potential foe instead of a potential ally. It was, in Tain’s experience, much harder to slip a knife into the heart of an enemy than that of an ally.