Dark Matters_ Cloak and Dagger (Book 1) - Christie Golden [14]
To her surprise, it was not the Proconsul or even the Praetor who spoke first It was the young Empress, rising from her throne and striding toward the screen with anger on her perfect features.
"Jekri Baseborn," snarled the Empress. "You dishonor all Romulans with your carelessness!"
Despite herself, Jekri flinched at the insult. She hid the gesture of weakness by inclining her head deeply hi obeisance.
"Your Excellency," she said, "no one could have predicted Dr. R'Mor's actions. His family was hi custody. He knew their lives depended on his actions. Until the moment of his defection, we had no reason to believe that Telek R'Mor was anything but a loyal servant of the Empire."
"Clearly, not as loyal as you had thought," said the Praetor in his thin, high voice. "Perhaps it is time to reevaluate all so-called loyal servants of the Empire-beginning with the chairman of the Tal Shiar!"
"No!" Fear was in her voice, and Jekri hated herself for that. Beside her, Lhiau laughed, nastily. "No, Praetor, my honor is my life." She swallowed, and for the first time since she had formally cast off the name of her illegitimate birth, she deliberately referred to it
"I had nothing before the Empire gave me a chance to prove my worth. I have worked, planned, killed for the Empire to earn this position. Without it, I am nothing. I would no longer be Jekri Dagger, but merely Jekri Baseborn. Think you for a single moment, any of you, that I would risk throwing that away for some misguided scientist's sense of honor?"
Spittle flew from her lips as she passionately defended herself. Her small hands clenched, the well-manicured nails digging into the flesh of her palms. She felt sweat gather at her hairline, break out beneath her arms. She was no Vulcan, to deny her emotions. Jekri felt her emotions deeply, and she knew she had to convince the powerful Triumvirate of her government of her sincerity, or else Telek R'Mor's family would not die unaccompanied.
For a long, agonizing moment, the faces on the screen remained angry. Then the three exchanged glances. The Empress nodded, as if she had just had something confirmed, and resumed her seat Jekri closed her eyes briefly and licked her lips. She tasted the salt of her fear on her tongue.
"Praetor, Proconsul, Empress, frankly, the Shepherds do not care whether Jekri Baseborn has clawed her way up through the ranks and whether she is to be plunged back down into the sewers from which she emerged," said Lhiau. Furious, Jekri whirled, but he continued speaking.
"Personally, I would just as soon work with someone else. But it matters little, hi the end. What does matter"-his voice dropped to a growl and he leaned
menacingly into the viewscreen-"is getting Telek R'Mor back. We want him. We need him-and that damned ship as well. Do you understand? If you want to keep your precious cloaks, you will do as I demand!"
Jekri pressed her lips together. In her entire life, she had never heard anyone address the Triumvirate in such insulting tones. The Proconsul, who loved his position rather more than he ought, was probably bursting a vein or two by staying silent.
"Ambassador Lhiau," said the Praetor, his reedy voice meant to be soothing, "please know that we are extremely grateful for the gift of the dark matter cloaking apparatus, and that we will do everything in our power to try-"
"No!" Lhiau had dropped all pretense of cordiality now. His face was flushed, his eyes wild. "You will not try anything! You will find Telek, find Voyager, and bring them to me! Or else, mark me well, Triumvirate, you will all three desperately wish you had never been born!"
He stabbed down with a forefinger and terminated the conversation. Jekri stared in open-mouthed shock. Almost immediately a red light began flashing