Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [110]
“The sensor nets are picking up intermittent tachyon emissions,” said Jaza, turning from the science console. “They may indicate the presence of other nearby cloaked vessels. And they don’t match the tachyon profile of General Khegh’s warships.”
“So whose ships are they?” asked Vale, who was still standing before her chair as she studied the main viewscreen.
“They’re apparently Romulan,” Keru said.
“More Remans?” Deanna said.
Riker shook his head. “I’d bet real money that they have Romulan crews.” He felt certain that Commanders Donatra and Suran wouldn’t have left the Romulan capital so utterly open to a Reman sneak attack, which they surely must have suspected was coming. But they might not have been able to post a large force—either because of dissension within their own military hierarchy, or out of fear of provoking Tal’Aura, Durjik’s hard-liners, or even the Tal Shiar.
Ambassador Spock stepped down into the center of the bridge, simultaneously facing Riker, Vale, and Deanna. “Captain, you see before you an eloquent argument in favor of returning me to the Reman leadership. Immediately.”
Riker sighed. “You may be right, Mr. Ambassador. Unfortunately, I’m afraid the opportunity to do that may already have passed.” Spock treated him to a withering glare as the captain moved up to the upper portion of the bridge, passing Akaar and Tuvok as he crossed to the tactical station.
“Any response yet from the Remans?” Riker asked Keru.
“No, sir. I’m continuing to hail.”
“And there’s still no definitive evidence that the Romulan military is intact enough to mount an effective defense,” Vale pointed out. “The Remans have a lot of ships, and there are a hell of a lot of soft targets down there.” She was still standing, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. Once again, Riker noticed that her gaze lit fleetingly on the missing dedication plaque.
Looking toward the screen that displayed the approaching Reman fleet, Riker said, “Mr. Keru, get me General Khegh.”
A moment later, the image of Romulus and the Reman-operated flotilla that threatened it shrank and withdrew to the upper left quadrant of the screen. The rest of the image area was now dominated by the ruddy illumination of the Vaj’s crowded bridge; in the foreground was the grinning, jagged-toothed face of the commander of the local Klingon forces.
“This is an exhilarating spectacle, Captain Riker, is it not?” Khegh said, punctuating his observation with a coarse guffaw.
“That wouldn’t quite be how I’d describe it, General,” Riker said, standing before his command chair. “You’ve received my tactical officer’s alert. You know that the Remans are in control of those incoming vessels, and that the Romulans might not be able to defend themselves from them. We can’t just sit by while Romulus is decimated.”
“Captain, my government didn’t send me here to fight on behalf of honorless Romulan petaQ,” Khegh growled. “We are here, in large part, at the request of our Reman allies—not their former slavemasters.”
“Damn it, General, the Klingon Empire hasn’t abandoned its Dominion War alliance with the Romulans, and you know it.”
Khegh pursed his lips as his rheumy eyes narrowed in anger. “True, Captain. But I will shed no Reman blood this day.”
Riker tried to reign in his own escalating irritation with the Klingon, without complete success. “Then I’d appreciate it if you’d give the Romulans the same consideration. Please don’t do anything to help the Remans attack