relationship with the Klingons.”
“What would you call it?”
A small shrug. “A détente, perhaps. A beneficial exchange of technology in return for certain logistical considerations.”
“In other words, you traded the secrets of cloaking technology for a handful of warships and . . . what else? Passage through Klingon space to the Taurus Reach? Those hardly seem like a recompense worth surrendering your monopoly on the cloaking device.”
She swallowed a sip of Romulan ale. “Our monopoly lost some of its value after the Enterprise absconded with one of our devices.”
“Ah. I see.” He reached out with one clawed manus and lifted his bowl of N’va’a to his mandible, then inhaled its heady fragrance while he waited for S’anra’s patience to crumble. He did not have to wait very long.
Simmering behind dark eyes, S’anra asked, “What do you see, Jetanien?”
“Now that Starfleet has one of your devices, you’re afraid you can no longer traipse undetected through Federation space. You’ve lost your advantage against us because you were tricked, so rather than risk creating a second enemy on your doorstep, you bribed the Klingons to let you travel through their Empire, and to provide you with more powerful ships that you think can keep Starfleet on its side of the Neutral Zone.” He clicked his mandible in an approximation of the tsk-tsk noise some humanoids made. “Still, it’s a terrible price to pay for that privilege . . . unless you happen to be close to rolling out a newer, better version of that technology.”
Noting with satisfaction that S’anra’s mood had taken a turn for the petulant, Jetanien rewarded himself with another draught of the N’va’a .
The young Romulan took a calming breath and forced herself back into a semblance of composure. “An interesting hypothesis. Most imaginative.”
“Thank you. I do strive to entertain with my prognostications and analyses.” At the first sign that S’anra was starting to relax, he added, “But even those boons would not yield a sufficient return on Romulus’s investment, would they? No, it seems to me your praetor and Senate must be angling for a far greater reward, something valuable enough to merit currying favor with the Klingon High Council. Or part of it, at least.”
His speculation pushed S’anra back into an agitated state. “Such as?”
“Who’s to say? But given what I know of your praetor and the Klingons’ Chancellor Sturka, I find the notion of them sharing common ground less than plausible.”
As Jetanien had hoped, his verbal feint enticed S’anra tosmugness. “Sturka is not the only member of the High Council.”
He leaned forward, as if to share a confidence. “Of course not, but he and Gorkon hold most of the others in line. Now, if you can get to Gorkon—well, that would be a very different scenario. But it’s not likely your people could offer him anything better than what Sturka has already promised him and his House.”
Mimicking his body language, S’anra shifted forward and lowered her voice. “And what, exactly, do you think Sturka’s promised to Gorkon?”
“The Empire. Gorkon seems likely to succeed Sturka as chancellor.”
S’anra’s eyes shone with a conspiratorial gleam. “I wouldn’t be so certain.”
“I didn’t say I was certain, my dear, only that I thought it likely. Pray tell, who do you predict will be the next to sit upon the throne of Kahless?”
She sat back and waggled a finger at him. “That would be telling.”
“So it would. And I’d hate for you to incur the wrath of someone like Duras.”
Jetanien paid careful attention to S’anra’s lack of a reaction. Her face was a blank slate—perfect for playing poker but ill-suited to brazen mendacity or fervent denial. Had she pretended to confusion or surprise, he might have had a harder time gauging whether his educated guess had struck the mark. Instead, she had made such an effort to bury her surprise
“What would you call it?”
A small shrug. “A détente, perhaps. A beneficial exchange of technology in return for certain logistical considerations.”
“In other words, you traded the secrets of cloaking technology for a handful of warships and . . . what else? Passage through Klingon space to the Taurus Reach? Those hardly seem like a recompense worth surrendering your monopoly on the cloaking device.”
She swallowed a sip of Romulan ale. “Our monopoly lost some of its value after the Enterprise absconded with one of our devices.”
“Ah. I see.” He reached out with one clawed manus and lifted his bowl of N’va’a to his mandible, then inhaled its heady fragrance while he waited for S’anra’s patience to crumble. He did not have to wait very long.
Simmering behind dark eyes, S’anra asked, “What do you see, Jetanien?”
“Now that Starfleet has one of your devices, you’re afraid you can no longer traipse undetected through Federation space. You’ve lost your advantage against us because you were tricked, so rather than risk creating a second enemy on your doorstep, you bribed the Klingons to let you travel through their Empire, and to provide you with more powerful ships that you think can keep Starfleet on its side of the Neutral Zone.” He clicked his mandible in an approximation of the tsk-tsk noise some humanoids made. “Still, it’s a terrible price to pay for that privilege . . . unless you happen to be close to rolling out a newer, better version of that technology.”
Noting with satisfaction that S’anra’s mood had taken a turn for the petulant, Jetanien rewarded himself with another draught of the N’va’a .
The young Romulan took a calming breath and forced herself back into a semblance of composure. “An interesting hypothesis. Most imaginative.”
“Thank you. I do strive to entertain with my prognostications and analyses.” At the first sign that S’anra was starting to relax, he added, “But even those boons would not yield a sufficient return on Romulus’s investment, would they? No, it seems to me your praetor and Senate must be angling for a far greater reward, something valuable enough to merit currying favor with the Klingon High Council. Or part of it, at least.”
His speculation pushed S’anra back into an agitated state. “Such as?”
“Who’s to say? But given what I know of your praetor and the Klingons’ Chancellor Sturka, I find the notion of them sharing common ground less than plausible.”
As Jetanien had hoped, his verbal feint enticed S’anra tosmugness. “Sturka is not the only member of the High Council.”
He leaned forward, as if to share a confidence. “Of course not, but he and Gorkon hold most of the others in line. Now, if you can get to Gorkon—well, that would be a very different scenario. But it’s not likely your people could offer him anything better than what Sturka has already promised him and his House.”
Mimicking his body language, S’anra shifted forward and lowered her voice. “And what, exactly, do you think Sturka’s promised to Gorkon?”
“The Empire. Gorkon seems likely to succeed Sturka as chancellor.”
S’anra’s eyes shone with a conspiratorial gleam. “I wouldn’t be so certain.”
“I didn’t say I was certain, my dear, only that I thought it likely. Pray tell, who do you predict will be the next to sit upon the throne of Kahless?”
She sat back and waggled a finger at him. “That would be telling.”
“So it would. And I’d hate for you to incur the wrath of someone like Duras.”
Jetanien paid careful attention to S’anra’s lack of a reaction. Her face was a blank slate—perfect for playing poker but ill-suited to brazen mendacity or fervent denial. Had she pretended to confusion or surprise, he might have had a harder time gauging whether his educated guess had struck the mark. Instead, she had made such an effort to bury her surprise
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