Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [12]
“What is your word for it, human?” Falhain said to Roget, who was blanching visibly. “‘Genocide?’”
Zweller swallowed hard, taking in the enormity of Falhain’s charges. If they were true, then how much worse could Romulan rule actually be for these people?
“So now you’re abducting noncombatants?” Roget said.
Falhain bared his teeth, making Zweller think of a cornered animal. “Unlike Ruardh, we have at least confined our targets to those wearing uniforms. And as long as the Army of Light answers to me, we will continue to strike only at the guilty.”
“We are even prepared to listen to Ruardh’s honeyed words of peace,” Grelun said with a sneer, his anthracite-hard gaze engaging Falhain’s. “Even though doing so may well be an exercise in futility.”
Moving too quickly to see, Falhain’s hands flew to the hafts of his blades, making plain his intended response to any further challenge to his authority. Grelun remained as still as a statue for several protracted heartbeats, then backed slowly away. But Zweller could see that fire still burned in the dark-haired warrior’s eyes.
Falhain won’t be able to keep that Good Right Hand of his tied behind his back forever.
The rebel chieftain relaxed his posture and turned his cold gaze once again upon Roget and Zweller. “My people are not bandits, humans. But we are determined. We will achieve peace, either at the talking table… or with the sword.”
Then Falhain brought his impossibly limber elbows quickly together, a motion that produced an alarmingly loud noise which was half whistle and half sandpaper rasp. Responding immediately, the guards hustled the sextet of Starfleet officers out of the room.
Zweller was the first to be separated from the others. Almost an hour after the meeting with Falhain had concluded, one of the guards escorted Zweller from a rock-walled holding cell and ushered him into a small, darkened office. A pneumatic door hissed shut behind him. Zweller was now unguarded, though still manacled. He approached the door through which he had entered. It remained solidly closed. Zweller guessed that the guard had locked it from the outside.
He heard a footfall behind him, and turned quickly toward the noise. “Lights,” said an aristocratic male voice, and the chamber’s illumination immediately rose to a faint twilight level.
A tall, ramrod-straight figure stepped into view from the shadows of an alcove. He had straight raven-black hair, combed forward, and the tips of his ears came to graceful points. His upswept eyebrows lent an air of expectation to his expression, as though he were a man accustomed to receiving satisfactory answers to his every question. He wore a gray-and-black Romulan military uniform, which was unadorned except for the emblem on his collar. The stylized sigil conjured for Zweller a mental image of a voracious, predatory bird.
Commander Cortin Zweller stood facing Koval, the chairman of the Tal Shiar, the Romulan Star Empire’s much-feared intelligence bureau-an agency which even members of the Romulan Senate crossed only at their peril.
Zweller held his shackled hands up. Koval spoke a terse command to the computer on his desk. The manacles dropped to the floor and Zweller gently rubbed his wrists to restore their circulation.
“Mnek’nra brhon, Orrha,” Zweller said, a phrase that meant “Good morning, Mr. Chairman,” in the other man’s language. Sometimes it was a good idea to remind an adversary that his secrets might not be as safe as he thinks-especially an adversary with whom one expects to do business.
Koval raised an eyebrow slightly, then replied in perfect Federation Standard. “Morning? An odd choice of words, Commander Zweller, considering where we are. But I must compliment you. Your accent is virtually undetectable. Section 31 trains its operatives well indeed.” He bowed his head almost imperceptibly.
Zweller failed to suppress a wry smile. Conversational Romulan 101, he thought. Aloud, he offered, “All part of the service. And likewise, I’m sure.”
“Then let us avoid any further irrelevancies and proceed directly to the business