The Romulan War_ Beneath the Raptor's Wing (Book 1) - Michael A. Martin [175]
It occurred to Trip that the loss of that one ship might well have represented much of the reason for Vulcan’s withdrawal; risk-averse by nature, the Vulcans would not have wanted to allow the Romulans any further opportunities to co-opt their technology.
Looks like that genie might already be out of the bottle, though, Trip thought as his gaze drifted down the Vulcan ship’s nacelle-hoop and down to the second, though nearer, vessel. A kind of bastard offspring of the larger Sh’Raan-type ship it floated beside, it bore the sleek lines and backswept, delta-wing nacelle configuration that he’d seen several times already in the V’Shar intel files—not to mention in the electronic notes and hand-rendered drawings made by the slain Romulan scientific eminence, Doctor Ehrehin i’Ramnau tr’Avrak.
There could be no mistaking it for anything other than what it obviously was—the Romulan Star Empire’s prototype warp-seven starship.
Which left Trip with one very immediate worry—a reprise of his concern about the lack of a night crew. “Why doesn’t anyone seem to be keeping watch over this place?”
“Never assume the Romulans are being lax in their security procedures, Sodok,” Tevik said as he hefted the massive toolbox that Trip knew held a good deal more than spanners and scanners.
“Romulan security is exactly what concerns me right now, Tevik,” Trip said, trying with only indifferent success to keep his voice level.
“My sources tell me that the Romulans have recently developed priorities other than security redundancies,” Ych’a said. “Nevertheless, I would recommend caution.”
Sound advice, Trip thought as he pulled out his scanner and began searching out a means of accessing some of the larger umbilicals that connected both ships to the rest of the facility.
FIFTY-ONE
Bird-of-Prey Terrh’Dhael
Haakona
THE FLEET HAS far more urgent duties to attend to than adventures such as this, Commander T’Met er-Iuruth t’Hveinn thought, her eyes fixed upon the gold-and-amber disk that was slowly expanding on the command deck’s central viewer. This is a waste of time and resources that would best be deployed elsewhere.
But Commander T’Met did her best to conceal her persistent, gnawing misgivings about the fight that lay ahead, and relayed the initiate order to her command-deck crew scant moments after having received it over the vastam comm bands. She knew that the order, as well as the complex attack plan it was intended to start, had come directly from Admiral Valdore, so she had scant cause to question either its reason for being or its prospects for success.
Except for the fact that T’Met also knew, thanks to her fortuitous consanguinity with Senator Karzan, a key member of the Continuing Committee of the Romulan Senate, that the only reason Valdore had formulated and instigated the Haakona campaign was because of the obstinate insistence of an increasingly irrational Praetor D’deridex.
“We will be within standard orbital distance of Haakona Prime in three siuren, Commander,” Centurion R’Tal reported crisply from his science station, his silver helmet blending in with the dull chromium finish of his hooded scanning/monitoring device.
Subcommander D’ridthau, who had been standing beside T’Met’s chair, turned to face the young science officer. “Have the Haakonans detected our presence yet?”
“I see no evidence of that,” R’Tal said.
“No hails or challenges yet, either from space or from the planet’s surface,” reported Uhlan Tomal, who was manning the communications post.
“I don’t like this,” D’ridthau said, turning his sharp gaze upon T’Met.
“Meaning that you do not enjoy achieving your victories too easily?” said Centurion Belak before T’Met could respond. “Or that you are still calling the wisdom of this campaign into question?”
A tense silence fell across the command