Star Trek: ALL - Seven Deadly Sins Read online

  Rising from her seat, Toqel nodded. “Then it would seem we have an arrangement. Shall I expect terms of this agreement in your next transmission?” She paused, looking around the room. “Or should I plan for another clandestine meeting, perhaps this time at a location of my choosing?”

  “No need for that,” Grodak said, smiling. “I called you here because I prefer to see my allies as well as my enemies face-to-face. It’s far easier to gauge them when you can look directly into their eyes.” As though unable to resist one last attempt at riling her, he added, “It is something only a warrior would understand.”

  “My loss, then,” Toqel said, keeping her expression neutral and resisting the urge to laugh in his face. Turning to Ditrius, she instructed him to contact their transport ship, which still orbited Narendra III, before returning her attention to the Klingon. “The path we start down today may well lead to lasting change for both of our peoples, Grodak, to say nothing of the positions we hold in the galaxy.”

  “It will be glorious,” Grodak said, his wide grin exposing his jagged, yellow teeth.

  What a trusting fool you are, Toqel thought, feeling her vessel’s transporter beam beginning to envelop her. If more Klingons had shared such bad judgment, their empire might have fallen to Romulan rule generations ago.

  All in good time.

  4

  Holding the cup to her nose, Toqel settled into her chair and released a contented sigh as she allowed the tea’s aroma to tickle her nostrils. She had savored this particular blend since childhood, having inherited a taste for it from her mother and her grandfather. She had attempted without success to pass on her love of the beverage to Sarith, but her daughter had always preferred a more potent variety. During her offspring’s tumultuous youth, Toqel had on many occasions and with great amusement wondered if Sarith’s choice of tea might have been yet another means of rebelling against her mother.

  She did inherit her headstrong nature from you, after all.

  As she gazed out the window of her office in the main Senate complex and over Dartha’s sprawling cityscape, Toqel caught her reflection in the glass and realized that she had been smiling at the fleeting memory of her daughter. Rather than allowing her thoughts to turn to regret and grief, she instead cherished those happier times, enjoying them as a respite from the stresses of the two khaidoa that had passed since putting her plan into motion.

  She was tired, yet satisfied. There had been much to accomplish, and little time in which to do it. The challenges of keeping veiled in secrecy an effort of the scope she currently oversaw were numerous. Still, the people under her command had performed with distinction, meeting or exceeding every deadline she had set. In time, she hoped to reward her teams’ accomplishments and validate their efforts in the eyes of the Senate and others who doubted the ideas she had put forth.

  Soon, she decided, catching once more her smile reflected in the window.

  A chime alerted her to someone outside her office. Turning to her desk, Toqel reached for a control panel embedded in its surface and pressed a button, unlocking the door and allowing it to slide open. Standing at the threshold was Ditrius, carrying a portable computer interface pad in his left hand.

  “Ditrius,” she said as the vice proconsul entered the office and approached her desk. It was well before the start of the day’s Senate sessions, but her aide had been assigned many of Toqel’s normal duties while she concentrated on her current tasks. To his credit, Ditrius had accepted the additional responsibilities without complaint and performed admirably in his expanded role. “What brings you here at this early hour?”

  Holding up the handheld pad, he replied, “The latest testing status reports. So far, the retrofitting of cloaking generators aboard the six ships is more or less on schedule. There have been some difficulties, owing mostly to various compatibility issues with respect to different onboard systems.” He paused, tapping on the handheld and consulting the reports before adding, “The design itself does not appear to be at issue, but each of the ships has been subjected to overhauls, refits, and other post-construction modifications that all have to be taken into account. There’s also the fact that much of a Klingon ship’s power generation and routing systems are designed for maximum effectiveness of weapons and defenses.”

  Toqel nodded, already quite aware of the issues. “Our engineers have done excellent work navigating these obstacles.” The progress reports she had read were quite impressive. Most of the installation work had already been performed on one of the six vessels, the I.K.S. Kretoq, and the battle cruiser had served as a test bed for working out problems with the modifications before proceeding to the other ships. So far, tests of the field generator installed aboard the Kretoq had exceeded expectations. Not only was the cloak more effective at masking the vessel from outside detection, the generator itself operated at a level of energy efficiency that was several percentage points higher than engineers had estimated. Apparently, the disparate aspects of the two empires’ technologies possessed some benefits as well as challenges.

  “And what of our information exchange with the Klingons?” Toqel asked. “I trust Grodak is satisfied with that aspect of our new partnership?”

  Grunting in what to her ears sounded like mild amusement, Ditrius replied, “According to him, engineers are already poring over the technical schematics for the cloaking generator, as well as the prototype we provided.” He paused, uttering a small, almost mischievous chuckle. “They will spend khaidoa learning to understand it all, even with our able assistance.”

  What Toqel had naturally not shared with Grodak and his compatriots was the simple fact that the provided schematics were for the older, less effective version of the cloaking generator. The technical information she had given him—both for the cloak as well as a few weapons systems—had been modified so as to appear to be the product of more recent developments. Klingon vessels operating with such technology could still be tracked, albeit with proper scanning equipment operated by technicians who understood what they were seeking. It was a minor deception, Toqel knew, and one likely to be discovered, but probably not for some time, and by then it would not matter.

  “Given the favorable progress with the Kretoq,” she said after a moment, “it may almost be time to proceed with next phase of the project.” Once modifications were completed on the Kretoq and the other five vessels, her plan was to deploy them on trial runs into both Klingon and Federation space. After a series of seek-and-destroy exercises with a handpicked cadre of Romulan ships and tested commanders, Toqel would conduct similar war game scenarios with Klingon vessels reporting to Grodak. The true challenges would come after that, when the new ships were tested against the formidable scanning and detection capabilities of Starfleet outposts and starships stationed near the Neutral Zone.

  Tapping a key on the handheld pad, Ditrius looked up from the device. “Our latest intelligence reports show the current positions of observation outposts along the Federation border, and recent patrol patterns of their vessels moving through the region. We will soon have a comprehensive analysis of traffic patterns and sensor coverage that will assist in preparing navigational data for the tests.”

  “Excellent,” Toqel replied, nodding in approval. “I’ll want any route we use to take us through Klingon space.” She smiled. “If Federation sensors do detect our passage, it will give them something unexpected to worry about.” While this new partnership was by no means politically entwining, the idea of a technological exchange between two of the major military powers in the sector would certainly merit the interest of the Federation. They would then spend inordinate amounts of time contemplating the ramifications of a Romulan-Klingon alliance.

  “Praetor Vrax and the Senate have received some new information,” Ditrius said, his attention once more on his pad, “which may impact our schedule. It seems Starfleet has been busy again.” Reaching across her desk, he offered her the handheld device, which she took and turned in order to read its dis
play.

  “Mav’renas,” she read aloud.

  “What the humans call Theta Cobrini,” Ditrius replied. “It’s a rather unimpressive system located on the fringe of the Avastam.”

  Toqel was familiar with that area: a region of space wedged between the borders of Romulan, Klingon, and Federation territory. The Avastam itself contained few planets of worth to any of the major powers, though Orion pirates and other parties used the region to conduct all manner of business, legitimate and otherwise.

  Scanning the data Ditrius had provided, Toqel reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. “They are constructing a base in the Mav’renas system.” The report contained computer-enhanced imagery captured by unmanned drones operating at the extreme limits of their sensors, and she called those up for study. Magnifying the images revealed unmistakable signs of construction on an impressive scale, likely the beginnings of a permanent installation with several sizable structures.

  “Starfleet is known to build support facilities for its ships patrolling the fringes of their territory,” she said, “so that in itself is not surprising.” Pointing to one image, she attempted to enhance it, quickly exhausting the handheld’s capabilities. “This structure, set away from the primary construction zone, appears to be a large-scale sensor array.”

  Ditrius nodded. “That is the assessment of the Tal Shiar,” he said, and Toqel noted the way the vice proconsul’s lips almost formed a sneer at the mention of the feared branch of the internal security division. “They do not think construction has been completed, but once operational, they believe it will offer unprecedented capability to monitor activity far into our territory. Their intelligence gathering ability would far exceed the levels they now enjoy.”

  “That would definitely present an issue,” Toqel said, considering the ramifications of this new development.

  “Politically, we have little recourse,” Ditrius said. “Despite its proximity to the Avastam, Mav’renas does lie in Federation space.” By mutual agreement reached the previous fvheisn, the Federation, Klingon, and Romulan governments had endorsed a policy of not installing any tactical assets within the border region, effectively rendering it a demilitarized zone. However, of the three major political entities, only the Federation contained a planetary system in close proximity to the Avastam that would support an operation such as the one seemingly under way.

  “Regardless of its being in their territory,” Toqel countered, “it will be viewed as an aggressive action. I suspect that installation’s defenses and any sensor apparatus in operation there will be quite formidable.”

  Ditrius said nothing for a moment, but then his mouth curled into a knowing smile. “Quite a test for our new ships, I’d think.”

  “Indeed,” Toqel replied, pleased with the vice proconsul’s deduction.

  She returned the pad to him, and Ditrius keyed another string of commands into the device before saying, “The system’s location offers a vantage point to observe some Klingon space, as well, though it’s obvious the installation’s primary mission would be observing us.”

  “Still,” Toqel said, “the Klingons may well find the presence of such a base as alarming as we do.”

  “Even the Klingons are not so foolhardy as to strike a target so clearly in enemy territory,” Ditrius said. “At least, not without direct provocation. They would see no true advantage in such an action.”

  Clasping her hands before her, Toqel steepled her fingers and rested them under her chin. “We don’t need the Klingons to strike the base. All we need are a few Klingon battle cruisers.”

  Ditrius widened his eyes as he processed the thought. “Attack the outpost ourselves, and let the Federation hold the Klingons responsible?” He paused, considering that notion. “What prevents the Klingons from redirecting the blame to us? They would almost certainly reveal our alliance, and cast doubt on their culpability.”

  “By then, it might not matter,” Toqel replied. “It may well be enough to get the Federation and the Klingons bickering with one another across their border. With tensions heightened and their focus elsewhere, opportunities might arise for other parties not directly involved in the matter.” Considering her words, Toqel knew the idea she had presented was not flawless. “Obviously it’s not something that can be done in the short term, nor is it something that should be rushed. There are too many variables to consider before formulating a cohesive strategy.” Indeed, such planning would require the best tactical minds the Romulan military had to offer, for a single attack as well as a coordinated campaign to face the likely response from both the Federation and the Klingon Empire.

  Toqel would probably not be involved in such strategizing, which she found acceptable. Grand schemes of that sort had nothing to do with the mission she had levied upon herself, and her goal of finding ways to strengthen the fleet. What happened after that was beyond her influence and, ultimately, not her concern.

  “What does Vrax want us to do?” she asked, dismissing the thoughts that seemed determined to affect her focus on the work still before her.

  “Just as you’ve suggested,” Ditrius replied. “Once you feel the test ships are ready, you are to take them to the Mav’renas system and investigate this new facility. He shares your belief that such an exercise is vital to determining the effectiveness of the new cloaking generators, and an unparalleled intelligence gathering opportunity. Imagine the surprise on the faces of the Federation Council when they learn our ships can assume orbit over their worlds and either scan or destroy them at the push of a button?”

  Silence hung in the air between them for a moment. Her plan, which Toqel knew would require much consideration and refinement, was bold—one Sarith would have appreciated. Her daughter would not only have approved of such a daring scheme, but she also would have wanted to play an active role.

  Perhaps I can make you as proud of me as I always was of you.

  “Well,” she said, forcing her thoughts back to the business at hand. She tried without much success to ignore the possibilities she now faced with regard to changing the course of Romulan history. “It seems we have much work to do.”

  Much work, indeed.

  5

  Captain Thomas Blair stepped from the turbolift and onto the bridge of the U.S.S. Defiant, pausing to allow the circulated air to cool his sweat-dampened skin. Wiping his face with the towel draped around his shoulders, he glared at the main viewscreen, upon which was displayed the now-familiar Alamedus asteroid field. The region had been the target of the Defiant’s survey assignment for the past two weeks, but the asteroids currently visible on the viewer, varying in size from meters to kilometers in diameter, were not his concern. Instead, it was the metallic, cylindrical object at the center of the screen that demanded his attention.

  “What’s the story?” Blair asked, nodding toward the viewer. Letting the towel fall back around his neck, he made his way around the upper deck toward the science station.

  Rising from the command chair at the center of the bridge and turning to face him, Commander Kamau Mbugua eyed Blair and his exercise attire, which consisted of perspiration-dampened gray sweatpants and a matching shirt emblazoned with the Defiant insignia. “Apologies for disturbing you, sir, but I thought you needed to see this.” The first officer was a large, imposing man of African descent, broad-shouldered and muscled beneath his gold uniform tunic and presenting the very epitome of physical fitness if ever Blair had seen such a specimen. Just looking at the younger, robust Mbugua caused Blair to recall the days when he too could take pride at being in top form.

  That was twenty years and thirty pounds ago. Happy fiftieth birthday to you.

  Indicating his state of dress with a dismissive wave, Blair reached to pat his midsection. “I already promised Doctor Hamilton that I’d make up the abdominal drills later.” With a wry grin, he added, “Not that it won’t stop her from denying me my slice of birthday cake and consigning me to dietary salads for the next month.” Putting aside the
pleasantries, he nodded toward the viewscreen. “What’ve we got?”

  Nodding toward Lieutenant Commander Erin Sutherland, who stood waiting at the science station and holding a data slate at her side, Mbugua said, “You’re on.”

  Sutherland pointed toward the viewscreen. “It’s a communications buoy, sir. Older model, in common use until about ten years ago or so, mostly by civilian colony and freight-hauling ships. They turn up on secondary and black markets from time to time, as the internal components are useful in all sorts of other equipment. The crews on Orion ships in particular tend to like them.” Pausing, the science officer reached up to brush away a lock of red hair that had fallen across her eyes. “We detected it about five minutes ago, sir, when it began broadcasting a transponder signal on a wide band.”

  “How long has it been here?” Blair asked.

  Her eyes shifting to glance at Mbugua in an expression the captain realized was one of nervousness, Sutherland replied, “About five minutes, sir.”

  Blair frowned. “Come again?”

  “There are no other ships or artificial constructs anywhere in the system, sir,” Mbugua said, folding his arms across his chest. “No background radiation or electromagnetic fields interfering with sensors, either. The place is a graveyard, Skipper.”

  The captain nodded, already knowing this based on Sutherland’s initial report on the Alamedus star system as well as the scant data collected by unmanned sensor probes more than a decade ago and culled from the Defiant’s library computer banks. A notable lack of properties that might impede the effectiveness of sensor equipment was one of the prime reasons Alamedus asteroids were receiving further scrutiny. If all went according to plan, several of the larger bodies would be selected and ultimately relocated to predetermined coordinates along the border separating Federation and Klingon space. Once moved into position by teams of Ptolemy-class towing vessels equipped with heavy-duty tractor beam systems, the asteroids would become the foundations for new observation outposts, similar to those currently in use along the Federation-Romulan Neutral Zone.