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EIGHTEEN

Day Three, Month of re’T’Khutai

Wednesday, July 30, 2155

The Hall of State, Dartha, Romulus

“ADMIRAL, I HAVE UNCOVERED some of the details regarding Thhaei’s plan to help the humans repel the surprise attacks against their homeworld and colonies,“ Commander T’Voras announced from the small viser that sat atop the massive sherawood desk.

Not entirely surprised by this news, Admiral Valdore i’Kaleh tr’Irrhaimehn continued slowly running the laser sharpener along the gleaming edge of the dathe’anofv-sen, his Honor Blade, before returning the weapon reverently to the display rack mounted on his office’s rear wall.

Curious as to how his own vantage point on the Thaessu—the Vulcan cousins of the Romulan people—might differ from that of one of his most accomplished ship captains, Valdore turned to face the image hovering over his desk.

“Tell me,” he said.

“The Thaessu are assisting the hevam of Earth and its outsystem holdings in the installation and maintenance of systemwide sensor networks,” T’Voras said, his manner pleasingly crisp and disciplined. “Their purpose is to provide advance warning of the approach of hostile warp-driven vessels.”

“Precisely how much early warning are you talking about, Commander?”

“I can only estimate, Admiral. But given the necessity of coming out of warp with sufficient error margins to avoid colliding with our targets or overshooting them, the warning network could give the Earthers upwards of several dierha to prepare for our arrival.”

“That could constitute a significant fraction of a Terran day,” Valdore said, trying to come to terms with a rumor that was looking increasingly like a bitter reality. The human journalist Naquase’s initial reports about this very subject, which had reached the ears of the Tal Shiar even as they had saturated the Coalition’s public newsnets, appeared to be based upon something more tangible than hearsay.

T’Karik’s balls, he thought as he began to spin new alternative strategic and tactical scenarios on the fly. Our misbegotten leaf-eating relations really could cost us the element of surprise. And we’re going to need that if we are to claim a decisive and early victory, even with the advantage of the arrenhe’hwiua telecapture weapon.

T’Voras continued, “I have to assume, Admiral, that similar warp-detection grids could soon protect other Coalition worlds. Perhaps even all of them.”

“I agree, Commander,” Valdore said with a stern nod. “We must take no unnecessary chances.” Praetor D’deridex’s incessant tantrums and ceaseless demands notwithstanding.

“Perhaps a revision of our attack timetable is in order then, Admiral.”

Valdore raised an eyebrow inquisitively. “A revision?”

“I recommend that we move up our assault on Earth. We should attack immediately, Admiral.”

“That operation will depend greatly on our strategic assets on Isneih Kre,” Valdore said, frowning as he considered the world that the hevam called Calder II. He had been hearing entirely too much of this sort of thing from the Empire’s ever more irrational—not to mention militarily inept—praetor. “Our force buildup in the Isneih system is far from complete.”

He paused momentarily as he considered a third alternative.

“Then I will await your orders, Admiral,” T’Voras said, signaling that he was finished both with his report and with his military recommendations.

“Thank you, Commander. I will brief you and the rest of the flag-rank command staff with an alternative battle plan very shortly. Valdore out.” And with that he toggled a switch atop his desk, causing T’Voras’s image to vanish.

He activated another switch. “Nijil, this is Valdore.”

The life-sized head and shoulders of Valdore’s chief technologist manifested over the desk like an apparition a moment later.

“What can I do for you today, Admiral?” said the scientist, who wore his customary unsmiling, almost wary expression.

Speaking with a spareness and efficiency born of long practice, Valdore explained the potentially devastating change that the Vulcans had just