Death in Winter - Michael Jan Friedman [56]
If Sela were to offer them a cure, they would suspect it was the work of the human physician. Instead of the Empire receiving credit for an uncharacteristic act of kindness, the Federation would be identified as the natives’ benefactor-and far from dampening the fires of revolt, Sela would find herself fanning them.
So the Kevrata would remain at the mercy of their disease. And if that created more of a mess for her to clean up, so be it.
Squinting against the assault of the weather, Sela watched her centurions take their places around Phajan’s house. “Your vigilance,” she told the tax collector, “is to be applauded.”
“I only did my duty,” said Phajan. “May the Empire vanquish all her enemies.”
Sela nodded in approval of the sentiment. Picard was certainly an enemy worth vanquishing.
As for Phajan… it was not so long ago that he had been an enemy himself. Now he was reduced to a tool, to be used by whoever was in charge on Romulus.
More than a decade earlier, Phajan had been part of a scheme to smuggle defectors to the Federation. Both the Imperial Defense Force and the Tal Shiar had become aware of the operation at about the same time.
Fortunately, the Defense Force got to it first. The smugglers it took into custody were given a choice: they could give up the identities of their comrades or they could die a crushingly painful death. Most of them opted for death. Only Phajan and a couple of others chose to live as turncoats.
For a while, they continued to accept overtures from potential defectors, who expected to obtain passage to the Federation like those before them. Thanks to Phajan and the other traitors, these people were instead seized and destroyed.
Eventually, the truth about their fates must have leaked out. The flow of overtures slowed to a trickle and then stopped altogether.
With the ring disabled, there was talk in the Defense Force’s inner circle of turning Phajan and his cohorts over to the praetor, who would almost certainly make examples of them. Then Shinzon took over and the discussion was set aside.
Because of that turn of events, Phajan and the others were allowed to live. Sela was glad of it, considering the opportunity it was even now presenting her. But then, traitors often managed to come in handy.
Come in handy…
It was one of her mother’s expressions. Sela felt like spitting-and would have, were it not for the flap of garb that kept her face warm. She wanted nothing to do with her weakling of a mother. It was bad enough that she had inherited some of Tasha Yar’s genes when it came to her appearance.
Inside, she was a Romulan-and she would kill the individual who said otherwise.
“Commander Sela,” said Akadia, her second-in-command on Kevratas. “Your centurions are in place.”
Sela nodded. “Then let us root out these intruders.”
“As you wish,” said Akadia. He turned to Phajan, looking down on the tax collector with the hauteur of a career military officer. “Come with me.”
Without a word, Phajan did as he was instructed. They were followed by the rest of the troops Sela had brought with her, except for the two Sela had designated as her bodyguards. As Akadia’s party approached Phajan’s front door, his centurions fanned out on either side of it.
Sela couldn’t hear Akadia’s instructions to Phajan over the incessant hissing of the storm, but she had an idea of what he was saying: something along the lines of “Open it.”
The tax collector punched a code into a narrow strip beside the door, which sat just below a communications grate. The security system was of the type Sela had ordered installed in all Romulan domiciles. In fact, it was one of the first commands she had issued after her arrival on Kevratas.
After all, these were dangerous times. Romulan citizens had to be protected from the vagaries of the natives.
As she thought that, Phajan’s door opened and Akadia led the charge into the house. Phajan remained outside, his face turned away, his back pressed against a wall lest he be struck by