Crossover - Michael Jan Friedman [38]
“As I indicated,” Lennex repeated, “I did not deem the matter worthy of special attention.”
Eragian cursed inwardly. It was a common failing among the Tal Shiar to adopt a narrow focus when dealing with other races. After all, as the guardians of order and orthodoxy, they were primarily concerned with security within the Empire.
Naturally, this pitted them most often against other Romulans. In his position as proconsul, Eragian had to pay equal attention to enemies within and without the Empire.
Staring at the image of the human on his screen, Eragian stroked his chin. “There are nothing but questions here.”
And the proconsul knew there would be no quick answers. But he hadn’t risen to the exalted rank of proconsul without fine-tuning his instincts. And right now, those instincts were telling him that this human was important.
Hitting a padd on his desk, Eragian signaled one of his junior officers. “Alert Commander Hajak to prepare the Vengeance,” he directed. “I am traveling to the outer worlds today.”
“Do you have a specific destination in mind?” asked the officer, over the intercom link.
“I will be visiting Outpost…” Eragian quickly scanned his memory for the one nearest to the site of the Starfleet officer’s capture. “Outpost Number Forty-Eight,” he said finally.
He turned his attention to Lennex again. “See that the prisoner is not harmed, and that he is transferred to the outpost. And get me all the information you can about his vessel.”
Nodding succinctly, Lennex left the proconsul’s office. Eragian didn’t doubt that the Tal Shiar officer would ferret out every bit of data available on the starship. Sitting back in his chair, Eragian entertained the prospect of visiting a bleak, primitive outpost which could hardly have been farther from the splendor of Romulus.
He hoped the human was worth it.
CHAPTER 9
Picard was growing weary of McCoy’s company. Painfully weary.
Playing host to the old gentleman was fraying the captain’s nerves, which might be put to other and better uses. At the moment, the man was standing among the aft stations, harassing the officers posted there.
Out of desperation, Picard turned to Worf and asked the Klingon the same question he’d asked of him a half dozen times already.
“Any word from Romulus, Lieutenant?”
The Klingon grunted. “None, sir. Perhaps if I we to—”
He stopped in midsentence and looked at one of his monitors. Smiling grimly, he turned to the captain again.
“I have received a response, sir. The Romulans have granted us a secure link to their governmental center.
“With whom will I be speaking?” asked Picard.
Worf consulted his monitors, his dark eyes moving beneath even darker brows. Finally he obtained the information he needed and looked up.
“The respondent is a proconsul named Eragian.”
The captain had never heard of the man. But then, his knowledge of Romulan politics was fairly limited. And except for the Senate, the hierarchy seemed to change quite often.
“All right,” he told Worf finally. “Proceed, Lieutenant.”
In the next moment, the viewscreen filled with the image of a lean and wolfish countenance. It was a look not uncommon among prominent Romulans. However, in this case, it was especially pronounced.
For some reason, Picard had the feeling that the Romulan was on his way somewhere—that he’d remained only long enough to take part in this conversation. But of course, it was only a feeling.
“I am Proconsul Eragian,” the Romulan said by way of a greeting. “And if you command the Enterprise, you must be—”
“Jean-Luc Picard,” the captain interjected, preferring to supply his own identification.
Eragian measured him with his gaze. “Yes, of course. And what is the occasion that has prompted this communication?”
Picard prepared himself. It was time to lay his cards on the table—at least, those he was willing to show.
“The Federation,” he said, “is aware of the capture of some forty Romulan unificationists on Constanthus. As a strictly humanitarian gesture, I have been empowered to take them off your hands.”
A smile played