Koval strode into the control center of the warbird Thrai Kaleh, his thoughts dark. Speculations about the Empire’s future had weighed heavily upon his mind of late. Despite the best efforts of the Tal Shiar’s vice-chairman, Senator Vreenak, to negotiate a nonaggression pact with the sprawling Dominion, Koval found it difficult to believe that those shape-shifting Gamma Quadrant devils—and their unctuous Vorta middlemen—would honor any such agreement for long. For months now, a sense of urgency had been steadily growing within the Tal Shiar leader’s gut, an almost desperate need to prove that the best days of the Praetor’s venerable congeries of worlds had not already passed.
Of course, there were things to be thankful for, to be sure. Nine years previously, Tarod IX, a world just on the Federation’s side of the stelai ler’lloann —the Outmarches, which the Federation called the Romulan Neutral Zone—had suffered a devastating attack by the rapacious Borg collective. Koval often wondered what would have happened had the conquest-driven cyborgs continued across the Neutral Zone toward the core of the Empire. Could Romulus itself have survived such an onslaught? Would he have been forced to seek a long-term alliance with the Federation, whose continual, omnidirectional expansion many in the Empire regarded as a threat in and of itself?
If the Dominion behaves as treacherously as seems likely, Koval thought glumly, then I may yet be forced to take just such an action.
Fortunately, some of the reassurance Koval sought was now displayed upon the Thrai Kaleh ’s central viewscreen. He looked upon a vast assemblage of spaceborne constructs, a colossal loop of machinery, energy-collectors, and habitat modules that dwarfed even the largest warbirds of the Praetor’s armadas. And in the ring’s center lay a concentration of unimaginably potent forces, a discovery that promised to revivify the Empire—and perhaps, one day, even to extend its reach to every quadrant of the galaxy.
Taking a seat in the command chair, Koval silently watched the coruscating energies in the screen’s center for the better part of an hour, while junior officers busied themselves monitoring the banks of equipment. It was their responsibility to assist the energy station’s technical crews in locating and dampening out all local subspace instabilities before irreparable harm could befall either the energy-extraction equipment or the power source’s delicately balanced containment apparatus.
Koval was unpleasantly aware that the crew had failed to mask all evidence of the phenomenon’s presence; the recent unwelcome intrusion of the first Federation starship into the cloaked zone had amply demonstrated those failures. In the aftermath, an overzealous warbird captain had overstepped his authority by destroying that Federation vessel, forcing Koval to have him summarily executed. Now that the incident had attracted the attention of the Federation’s flagship, Koval would countenance no further errors or unforeseen complications.
A hatchway opened and a distraught young decurion entered the control center, practically at a run. “ Chairman Koval,” he said breathlessly. “We’ve just received a stealth signal from the Chiarosan orbital comm tether. There has been an . . . incident on the planet.”
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 appear to 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 not to 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 Kaleh within 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.