Koval sighed. Why were so many junior officers averse to speaking plainly these days? “Specificity and brevity are among the cardinal virtues, Takal. Let me have both.”
The younger man paused for a moment, composing his thoughts before continuing. “Somehow, the Starfleet detainees have escaped from the base on Chiaros IV. They’ve taken one of our small scout vessels off‑planet.”
Koval suppressed any outward show of surprise or anger, but he felt them both nonetheless. He quickly reassured himself: Even though the Federation now surely knows of the covert Romulan presence on Chiaros IV, they still have virtually no chance of correctly assessing the Empire’s larger agenda.
By the time they do that, it will be far, far too late.
“What is the status of our people there?” Koval said evenly.
“The Starfleet prisoners evidently overpowered three of our technicians, Chairman, and forced them off the scout ship before using it to make their escape. The technicians were fortunate not to have been taken hostage.”
Koval shook his head. “Not at all. There probably wasn’t enough room on the scout ship to take anyone else aboard. What is the status of the rest of our personnel on the base?”
“There were no casualties, Chairman.”
“Fortunate. Even with a memory scanner, I cannot debrief the dead. The rebel base is compromised, Decurion. Evacuate it at once. Instruct all personnel to withdraw to the secondary compound.”
“Yes, Chairman.”
“As soon as the evacuation is complete, you will purge the facility.”
“It will be done, sir.” The decurion saluted, touching his clenched fist to his chest. He turned swiftly and was gone.
Koval smiled to himself. Any scan of the base’s remains would reveal the blast signatures of Starfleet quantum torpedoes–armaments that the Tal Shiar had acquired through third parties and then hidden beneath the Army of Light complex during its construction long ago. Thus, the Chiarosan electorate would have even further proof of Federation perfidy before voting on the question of Federation membership, just two short days from now.
By that time, Koval expected to have concluded his business with Commander Zweller as well. Zweller had aided the Chiarosan rebels to sway the election in favor of Romulus, just as he had promised to do. And despite Zweller’s subsequent falling out with Grelun, a deal was still a deal. Spies had to be especially circumspect about honoring their under‑the‑table agreements. Or at least they had to appearto be. To do any less was simply bad business, and could invite unpredictable responses from one’s adversaries.
Now that Zweller had escaped from the rebels, Koval fully expected to give the commander his just due: a list of Romulan agents working on Federation worlds. A list of probably‑compromised intelligence officers who would shortly find themselves purged, their families vanished, their lands and properties confiscated. Section 31 would almost certainly execute the spy‑purge themselves, thereby saving Koval and his bureau a great deal of trouble and expense. Quietly lauding himself for his own cleverness, Koval allowed his lips to torque into an–almost–perceptible smile.
But there would be plenty of time to consider such things after the Chiarosan referendum. In the meantime, much remained to be accomplished.
Koval rose from his seat and approached Subcenturion V’Hari, the young woman who was monitoring the helm console. Though her collar did not bear the bureau’s insignia, she was, nevertheless, one of his most prized Tal Shiar staff officers, one of the many sets of clandestine eyes and ears he had positioned throughout the Praetor’s fleet. She was someone to whom he could entrust a great deal of privileged information. Most important, she refrained from prying into anything he chose deliberately notto tell her.
The subcenturion snapped to attention. “Sir?”
“I must inspect the main energy facility and witness the next series of full‑power tests,” he said, nodding toward the image on the screen. “Send the technicians who came into contact with the Starfleet escapees to meet me there for their debriefings.”
“It will be done, Mr. Chairman,” she said crisply.
“I will return to the Thrai Kalehwithin two days,” he said, and then left the control center.
Two days,he thought. At which time I will have a very important appointment to keep.
Chapter Ten
As soon as the Romulan scout ship touched down in the Enterprise’s shuttlebay, Crusher had the stillslumbering Grelun and the surviving Slaytoncrewmembers–including Corey Zweller–beamed directly to sickbay, where Dr. Anthony and Nurse Ogawa had been instructed to await their arrival. Leaving Riker in charge of securing the scout ship, Picard entered a turbolift, followed by Batanides. She was silent, almost brooding.
“Bridge,” Picard said wearily. The car began moving smoothly upward.
“Johnny, what do you intend to do with Grelun after he wakes up?”
“I want to hear his side of the Chiarosan conflict,” Picard said. “From what Riker, Troi, and Corey have already told us, Falhain’s indictment against Ruardh’s government may have real merit, after all.”
“Too bad the rebels conveniently relieved Corey of his tricorder before we could examine their alleged evidence,” she said acidly.
“Do you think Grelun’s people are fabricating the massacre stories? My first officer and counselor have made a pretty good case that they’re not.”
She sighed and seemed to let down her guard. “Since Aubin’s death I’m really not sure whatto believe.”
“But you don’t trust Grelun.”
“In my field, trust has to be earned. And I have trouble trusting people who’ve just tried to kill me.”
Picard nodded. “I understand that. And I also understand that they’re desperate people.”
“No doubt. But it still strikes me as strange that Grelun confiscated the evidence that might have convinced us that he’s in the right and Ruardh’s in the wrong.”
Picard felt the car change direction. Now it was moving horizontally toward the center of the ship. “It’s like you said, Marta. Trust has to be earned, and we have yet to earn Grelun’s. He sees us as in league with his sworn enemies. And from his own people’s point of view, we’ve just taken him hostage.”
“Then we’ve got to send him back to Chiaros IV as soon as possible,” she said. The turbolift shifted again, resuming its upward motion. “The longer he’s with us, the more tensions will escalate on Chiaros IV. And going down there again to gather new evidence to prove who’s in the right and who’s in the wrong is just going to make us targets for both sides.”
True,Picard thought. Up to now, every one of our encounters with Chiarosans has led to violence.
He looked her in the eye. “Believe me, I am excruciatingly aware of that.” He hadn’t been enthusiastic about Grelun’s capture in the first place, though he had understood the necessity of it after Will and Batanides had explained it during the flight back to the Enterprise.
“Then you agree we’ve got to send him home,” she said.
“Of course. Once Dr. Crusher has certified him fit to travel.” And after I speak with him. And Corey.
The doors opened, and Picard and Batanides stepped together onto the bridge.
Data rose from the command chair, an urgent expression on his pallid face. “Captain, we have just detected an extremely unusual energy reading, centered on Chiaros IV’s Nightside.”
“What sort of reading?” Picard said.
“It is difficult to be certain, given the atmospheric turbulence and magnetic field‑driven planetary radiation belts. But it appears that several Starfleet quantum torpedoes have just been detonated on the planet’s surface.”