Star Trek: ALL - Seven Deadly Sins (2 page)

Larael bristled at the obvious, veiled accusation. From reading a series of classified reports, he knew of at least two separate clandestine missions undertaken by Romulan vessels into Federation territory. While one of the ships had been sent on a circuitous route to a distant area of largely unexplored space currently disputed by the Federation, the Klingon Empire, and the Tholian Assembly, a second vessel had been dispatched across the Neutral Zone to test Starfleet defenses. It was the first such mission since the ending of the war between the Empire and Earth more than eighty
fvheisn
earlier, and there was much to be learned about how far the enemy had advanced since that costly conflict. The lone vessel had carried out several successful attacks on Starfleet outposts stationed near the Neutral Zone, though it had not fared nearly so well after engaging another
Constitution
-class starship near the border. Its commander was forced to destroy the ship rather than allow it to be captured, a fate which many believed to have befallen the first vessel, as well.

As the human had intimated, the incident near the Neutral Zone, along with other, more recent encounters, might well have been enough to pull the Federation and the Empire into a new and perhaps protracted, costly war. Cooler heads had prevailed on those occasions, and Larael did not relish the prospect of any action being taken today that might not be handled with similar restraint.

Maintaining eye contact with Wesley and making sure his voice
was loud enough for the human to hear, Larael said to Bochir, “Scan the smaller vessel again.”

The centurion leaned over his console, peering at several of the displays and the data scrolling across them. “As before, Commander, the vessel appears to possess only limited defenses, which are not active. Its primary power generators are off-line. I am unable to determine the reason for the power loss, but there is no detectable external damage to the ship.”

It certainly was possible that this was all a ruse designed to conceal espionage. Such a scenario was a likely if rather obvious cover for crossing the border and carrying out covert surveillance. If it was in fact an act of deception, then it lacked any manner of creativity, something Larael would not expect from the notoriously imaginative and unapologetically deceitful humans. There was also the fact that in addition to being a defenseless vessel, it as well as the
Revoth
was nowhere near any target of worthwhile military value. If the people on that ship were spies, Larael concluded that they might be better off pursuing some other vocation.

“You will continue on your present course at your current speed, Commodore,” he said after a moment. “Any deviation, no matter how slight, will be considered a hostile act against the Romulan Star Empire. My further advice to you is to inform your superiors that future incursions into our space are unlikely to be indulged in similar fashion. Do I make myself clear?”

“Commander . . .” Bochir began, and Larael forced himself not to react to the centurion’s questioning tone. A simple glimpse was enough to silence the subordinate.

On the viewscreen, Wesley nodded.
“You do, Commander. I appreciate your trust, and you have my word that it’s not misplaced. Safe journey to you and your crew. Wesley out.”
The image on the screen dissolved into static before being replaced by a display of the Federation ships continuing on their way.

“Helm,” Larael said, “mirror their course and speed, but maintain this distance. Place weapons on standby.” Turning to Bochir, he kept his voice low and steady as he regarded the younger officer with a hard glare. “Now, Centurion, what is it you wished to tell me?”

Bochir had the good sense to appear nervous as he replied,
“Commander, our orders are to protect the Empire’s borders. How can our commitment to security be respected by our enemies if we do not answer their defiance with force?”

“Soldiers do not attack indiscriminately, Centurion,” Larael said, allowing the merest hint of annoyance to creep into his voice. “The Federation ship was a match for us, and yet they did not raise their shields or bring their weapons to bear. They were at our mercy. I do not attack unarmed vessels, at least not until I have confirmed they are a threat. To do otherwise is to act no better than lawless thugs, and we hold ourselves to a higher standard. Do you understand?”

Nodding, Bochir replied, “I do, sir.” He paused, as though weighing the potential risks of what he might say next, before adding, “I only hope that our enemies do not mistake your compassion for Romulan weakness.”

The young officer had courage, Larael gave him that. Of course, being the son of a prominent senator tended to enhance one’s self-confidence, whether or not such feelings were justified. Larael supposed he should be wary of how he treated Bochir, knowing full well that any dissatisfaction would inevitably be relayed back to Romulus and his father’s sympathetic ear. The notion was as quickly dismissed. After nearly thirty
fvheisn
spent in service to the Empire, Larael had long since tired of looking over his shoulder and worrying how the wrong action or spoken thought might be viewed by those in power. He simply was too old for such games.

Still, he was forced to admit that young Bochir had made a valid observation. With encounters between Federation and Romulan ships increasing as both powers continued to expand into previously unexplored space, it was only a matter of time before a more violent confrontation resulted. The Empire would be forced to act, lest it find itself trapped within its borders and at the mercy of its rivals.

And on that day, will we once again find ourselves at war?

Larael took no comfort in knowing the answer to that question.

As it always seemed to be these days, at least so far as Proconsul Toqel could tell, the Senate was a hive of agitation.

Even before the towering, heavy doors to the chamber opened to allow her entry, the sounds of heated debate carried to Toqel’s ears. No less than five senators, she judged, were talking at rapid pace over and around each other. None of them seemed content to pause for the shortest interval in order to comprehend or even acknowledge what their peers were saying. This sort of discourse had dominated the past several sessions, and not for the first time, Toqel frowned in private disapproval. Accounts of such decorum, should they travel beyond the confines of the Senate and to the citizenry of Dartha, would almost certainly instill at least some uncertainty within the very fabric of Romulus’s capital city. How could those in power expect to hold sway over the populace if they could not even comport themselves with some small shred of discipline?

Is this how it was prior to our last war with Earth and its allies?

The question taunted Toqel as the massive doors opened and she, along with her assistant, Vice Proconsul Ditrius, stepped into the grand hall that was the Senate chamber. Once inside, she could not resist a moment’s distraction as she took in the room’s dignified splendor. Marble columns rose from the granite tile of the debate floor to support the translucent domed ceiling, through which the filtered light of
the morning sun illuminated the gold and silver embellishments of elegant tapestries hanging around the room’s perimeter. For generations, this chamber had been a focal point for some of the Empire’s greatest minds and most fervent defenders. Many of the historic decisions and policies that had guided the Empire through prosperity as well as adversity had been born here. It was, Toqel believed, an almost divine place, worthy of solemn, unwavering respect.

Unfortunately, that grandeur was, in her opinion, spoiled by the unshielded, raucous dialogue that seemed poised to consume the storied hall. Seated at their ornate, ceremonial desks situated atop the raised dais that dominated the room’s northern wall, most of the senators, along with Praetor Vrax himself, listened as Levok, one of the Senate’s longest-serving and most accomplished members, stood before them on the debate floor. Stepping farther into the room, Toqel realized she and Ditrius were just in time to watch the veteran senator in the middle of yet another of his famed dramatic tirades.

“How much longer will we stand idle as our enemies intrude open our territory all but unchallenged? How many more incursions will we allow before one of their vessels finally reaches a vital target?” With what Toqel recognized as a practiced bit of zealous flair, Levok pointed toward the chamber’s debate floor. Inlaid into the tiles was an elaborate star map representing the area of space claimed by the Romulan Star Empire, along with the border separating it from the United Federation of Planets. “How long after that until our enemy finally gathers the courage to cross the Neutral Zone and launch an all-out offensive? My friends, hear me well: The longer we wait to put the humans in their place, the weaker we will appear.”

Seated at her desk on the dais, Senator Anitra said, “We know that the Federation has made their own significant technological advances since the war. That much has already been made quite obvious, just based on our most recent encounters with Starfleet vessels. It’s quite possible that they are already more formidable an adversary than we are prepared to face.”

Hushed murmurs filtered through the room, and Toqel watched as a few of the senators bowed their heads toward one another, exchanging remarks that were inaudible to her. Though younger than most of her colleagues, Anitra had in a relatively short period of time
positioned herself as one of the Senate’s most vocal, formidable members. She had garnered a reputation for holding no fears or reservations so far as conflicts with neighboring interstellar powers were concerned, though she almost always championed a deliberate, pragmatic approach to such matters. Indeed, working with Levok on several initiatives since her election to the Senate had allowed the two of them to forge an impressive tandem, with her providing reasoned counterbalance to Levok’s more reactionary views and statements.

And, as it often had in the past, Toqel knew, the tactic once again was proving successful. Despite the seeming paranoia lacing the esteemed senators’ words, the views held by Levok and Anitra were shared by several of their colleagues. Even the Praetor himself placed credence in at least some of what currently was being espoused, though he often presented a tempered response to the more inflammatory opinions.

“There is another facet to this situation that must not be overlooked,” Levok said, his attention still focused on the Praetor and the other senators. “For some time, we have watched as the Federation and the Klingon Empire continue their efforts at extending their respective grips on the galaxy. Left unchecked, this growth may well result in our being surrounded by our enemies and at their mercy. While the Federation would entertain negotiations, I certainly do not believe the same to be true of the Klingons.”

Sitting to the Praetor’s left, Senator D’tran cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as he straightened his stooped posture. “While I might agree with your assessment of the Klingons, Levok, much of the public outcry about Federation expansion would seem to be misplaced. Let us be honest here. In all our dealings with the humans, have they ever shown a propensity for
initiating
hostile action?” D’tran’s voice was subdued and gruff, owing to his extreme age. By far the oldest member of the Senate, he had always been a voice of wisdom and restraint even during the most tumultuous of debates. Toqel knew that his views on the Federation came with the credibility of direct, firsthand knowledge; as a younger man, while serving as an officer aboard a warship, D’tran had been one of the first Romulans ever to encounter people from Earth. As time passed, and given the overall lack of substantial information, D’tran and a few other individuals effectively had become
the only real experts on humans, their worlds, and their culture. It was a distinction the elder senator had solidified thanks to his recent diplomatic work not only with the Federation but also the Klingon Empire.

Bowing his head in deference to the veteran senator, Levok replied, “You are correct, D’tran. However, is it not reasonable to assume that in response to our own reconnaissance missions into their space, the Federation has decided that more direct action is in order? It’s likely that they remain as uninformed about us as we were about them. This might explain the rise of invasive incursions into our territory, yes?”

“Of course it might,” said Ditrius from where he stood to Toqel’s immediate left, his voice nearly inaudible.

“Silence,” Toqel said, chastising her assistant in a hushed whisper as her eyes scanned the senators to see if anyone else had overheard the ill-considered remark. It had not been the first time she was forced to remind Ditrius of his place, particularly when in the presence of the Senate, to say nothing of the Praetor himself. The vice proconsul was an ambitious officer, hungry for advancement and at times careless in word or deed. Toqel had found that mentoring her young protégé was but one more full-time facet of the already demanding set of official duties entrusted to her. Without that guidance, she was sure Ditrius would one day say or do something that would set him at odds with a superior, and that would be the end of his brief, albeit impressive career.

Tread softly, my determined young friend.

Despite her disapproval of Ditrius’s momentary loss of military bearing, Toqel released a small sigh, hard-pressed to disagree with his rash assessment. An effective and persuasive speaker, Senator Levok nevertheless was prone to stating the glaringly obvious, even if he tended to do so in grandiose fashion.

Though she was certain she had caught herself from reacting any further to Levok’s remarks and instead succeeded in maintaining her bearing, Toqel straightened her rigid posture when she realized that Praetor Vrax was looking past the senator and directly at her. Seated in his chair at the center of the raised dais, the elderly leader seemed to smile—if ever so slightly—as their eyes met, and he raised his hand, indicating her with a wave.

“Proconsul Toqel,” he said, his voice low and feeble. “Please, you and Ditrius, join us.”