Free Star Trek: That Which Divides by Dayton Ward Page B

a computer data tablet. As always, Sirad presented the epitome of a well-groomed Romulan officer. He did not walk so much as marched, his every movement a testament to military precision. His uniform was tailored to an exacting degree around his trim physique, to the point that Vathrael often wondered if the subcommander had himself sewn into the garments each day. His hair was cut in a short style that left the sides of his head exposed, trimmed to what Vathrael was certain was mathematical exactitude. The boots he wore were polished to a shine so bright that other officers joked about being able to see their reflections in them, though such observations were of course never made in Sirad’s presence.
    “Commander,” he said, coming to a stop before Vathrael. His body was ramrod straight as he nodded in greeting. “I apologize for disturbing you, but we have received a priority message from Fleet Command.” He paused, and Vathrael knew that his hesitation was due to the presence of Terius standing nearby, although the centurion had remained silent since Sirad’s arrival. Whatever message her executive officer had brought her, the paranoid bureaucrats who populated the halls of power at Fleet Command likely considered it to be of a sensitive nature regardless ofits actual content. It was Vathrael’s experience that such administrative drones preferred to compartmentalize and classify any and all information as being worthy of secrecy, doubtless in a bid to maintain their illusion of relevance to those higher in the chain of command. Such thinking had been entrenched within Romulan government and military affairs since long before Vathrael had first donned a uniform, and she was certain it would continue long after she bid farewell to the service. She had come to realize that fighting such institutional inertia was a waste of time and energy better spent on other pursuits.
    Regardless of her personal feelings, the regulations pertaining to such matters were explicit, and Vathrael knew that Sirad would observe them until the protocols were changed or the universe succumbed to entropy, whichever of those events should first come to pass.
    “Centurion,” Vathrael said, glancing to her subordinate, “if you will excuse us.”
    Terius offered a crisp nod. “Of course, Commander. Thank you again for the contest. Perhaps a rematch at some appropriate time?”
    “Perhaps,” the commander replied. After the weapons officer had taken his leave, Vathrael once again regarded her second-in-command. “All right, Sirad. What bidding do you bring us from our masters at Fleet Command?”
    After first checking to verify they were not being overheard, Sirad said in a low voice, “We have been ordered to leave our patrol vector for a new assignment. The Federation has taken an interest in a star system which lies in an area outside their territory but in proximity to Romulan space. Fleet Command suspects that Starfleet may be considering establishing a presence there.”
    Frowning, Vathrael nodded. “And our superiors believe this represents a grave danger to the security of the empire?”
    “That would seem to be a possibility, Commander,” Sirad replied. “Would you not agree?”
    “Things are not always as they might first appear,” Vathrael said before drinking once more from her bottle of matnaral . “What would seem to be a foregone conclusion reached within a comfortable office on Romulus is often at odds with what faces the commander and crew of a vessel operating under orders dispatched from that office.” Encounters with Starfleet vessels had been sporadic in the more than three fvheisn that had elapsed since Romulan ships had begun probing Federation territory for the first time since the war with Earth. Vathrael and the Nevathu had themselves been party to one such meeting, which had begun from misunderstanding and ended without violence. Such had not been the case during other incidents, and it was the opinion