Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [67]
But the unending struggle between the praetorship and the Tal Shiar is by no means resolved, she thought. It is merely postponed until more convenient circumstances arise.
Glancing down at the palm of his pudgy right hand, Pardek saw the time displayed on his chrono-ring, and noted that the meeting would not begin for nearly four full veraku. He loitered in the Hall of State’s vast library, alone except for a half-dozen extremely vigilant armed uhlans and a handful of nervous-looking scholars who were clearly trying to look completely intent upon their various academic research projects. The sun streamed in through windows high in the domed roof, casting long shadows across the towering ancient bookshelves and the lowslung modern computer terminals in the otherwise unlit chamber. Everything looked peaceful enough, though Pardek could hear the emergency vehicles, their echoing klaxons reminding him of the cries of distant seabirds. A slight ozone tang hung in the air, evidence of the fires that had raged for weeks across much of Ki Baratan’s South Quarter, and which still smoldered in the nearby ancient district known as the ira’sihaer.
During his first term in the Senate more than a century earlier, Pardek had developed the habit of arriving early for critical meetings such as the one scheduled for today, the better to size up his adversaries from some unobtrusive nearby waiting area before following them into the meeting chamber proper. He rose from the chair where he had sat beside one of the computer screens and deactivated his link to the newsnets. There was still ample time for another stroll around the spacious courtyard that surrounded the Hall of State. Within a few minutes, he had circled the courtyard and stepped into one of the secluded alcoves that led back inside the great domed building that held the praetor’s audience chamber.
“Senator,” a sharp voice intoned from a short distance ahead of him.
Pardek saw two men in civilian clothes approaching him from the direction of Tal’Aura’s audience chamber. He recognized the shorter of the pair immediately as Rehaek, the current leader of the Tal Shiar. This was the man who had killed the hated Koval, the Federation-tainted criminal who had slain Tai’lun and Talkath, Pardek’s wife and only daughter. As such, Rehaek could almost be considered an ally. Almost.
“Jolan’tru, Director Rehaek. I wasn’t aware you were to be present at the coming meeting.” Pardek was confident that Rehaek knew of the meeting, and that he was therefore revealing nothing that the clever young Tal Shiar chief hadn’t already discovered for himself.
After nodding to his impassive companion, Rehaek turned his gaze back upon Pardek. He smiled with surprising mildness. “I won’t be present…at least, not directly.”
Ah, Pardek thought. The Tal Shiar need not send a representative. They have eyes and ears everywhere, not all of them living ones. He shuddered involuntarily, recalling how casually Koval had thwarted his security system more than six years earlier, invading his home and threatening the life of his only child in an effort to intimidate him.
Pardek reminded himself not to allow the satisfaction he had taken in Koval’s recent death to lull him into lowering his guard. The Tal Shiar was still the Tal Shiar. And he had no assurance that Rehaek’s Tal Shiar was any less likely to get into bed with the Federation, or perhaps even other far more dangerous foes of the Empire.
“It appears you have the praetor’s ear, Director Rehaek,” the former senator said, choosing his words cautiously.
“All loyal Romulans should rally around our new praetor, particularly when the Empire is in jeopardy. Should we not?”
Pardek sniffed, allowing the other men a glimpse of the political outrage he usually kept tightly wrapped, except perhaps in Tal’Aura’s presence. “The legitimacy of Tal’Aura’s praetorship is still open to debate, Director. In fact, I find her automatic inclusion in today’s Federation-mediated talks to be highly