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Authors: Dayton Ward
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predictable, at least to some extent. The Klingons, when they remained brash and brutal, were consistent. It was when they chose subtlety or cunning over direct confrontation that they became enemies to be watched and feared.
This, Solow had realized upon first reading the report submitted by Captain Thomas Blair, commander of the
U.S.S. Defiant,
was looking to be one of those times.
“A cloaked Klingon vessel,” he said, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. No matter how many times he had read Blair’s report during the past three weeks, the words simply did not sound correct or even believable to his ears. “And I thought I’d seen it all when it came to dealing with the Klingons.”
Now referring to whatever notes she carried on her data slate, Allen replied, “Comparative analysis of the
Defiant
’s sensor logs showed that the ionized plasma emissions they detected, while faint, were a definite match for the impulse engines of a Klingon D7 battle cruiser.” She looked up from her notes. “The Klingons aren’t in the habit of trading or selling military hardware, are they?”
Solow smiled, knowing the question was rhetorical, from her tone as much as the fact that Commander Allen was well-versed in the machinations of the Klingon military. Indeed, she was one of Starfleet Command’s foremost experts and advisers. Still, the notion was not without merit.
“Maybe not,” he said, “but if that was a Klingon ship playing games with the
Defiant,
then they had to get that cloaking technology from somewhere.” He let the sentence trail off, watching as Allen’s expression melted into a frown.
“The Romulans?” she asked. “Working with the Klingons?” She shook her head. “That’s going to keep me up nights.”
Offering a slight, humorless chuckle, Solow nodded. “It’s one possible explanation, but I’ll be damned if we’ve got the slightest hint of anything like that going on.” None of the reports he had been reading from Starfleet Intelligence had provided even the most inconsequential evidence to support the notion that the Klingons and the Romulans—or representatives who might or might not be operating with the authorization of their respective governments—had entered into some sort of alliance. While the very idea might be laughable to the casual observer, Solow knew that Starfleet Tactical had among its vast library of simulations and strategic planning more than one scenario featuring Federation starships pitted against combined fleets of Romulan and Klingon ships. So far as Solow was concerned, the results as provided by computers devoted to the execution of seemingly endless tactical war games were, to say the least, rather less than encouraging.
“For the Klingons to partner for any reason with the Romulans would suggest something’s upsetting someone somewhere,” Allen said, “perhaps for both sides. Are they that worried about us?”
Solow nodded. “Anything’s possible. After all, we’re not exactly overflowing with useful intelligence data so far as our friends across the Neutral Zone are concerned.”
Despite the period of isolation the Romulan Star Empire had imposed upon itself for decades following its defeat at the hands of Earth and its small band of allies, Starfleet Intelligence had made a handful of attempts to insert covert agents into the Romulan government and military. Most were never heard from again, and those who had survived detection had done so only by immersing themselves in Romulan society to the point of invisibility. Contact with such agents was sporadic at best, and with the care nearly every citizen of the Empire seemed to employ in order to safeguard information, reports offered by the operatives often were of little use.
“It certainly doesn’t make any sense on the face of it,” Allen said. “Romulan and Klingon cultures are so different, it’s hard to imagine them ever agreeing on anything, let alone getting along to the
This, Solow had realized upon first reading the report submitted by Captain Thomas Blair, commander of the
U.S.S. Defiant,
was looking to be one of those times.
“A cloaked Klingon vessel,” he said, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. No matter how many times he had read Blair’s report during the past three weeks, the words simply did not sound correct or even believable to his ears. “And I thought I’d seen it all when it came to dealing with the Klingons.”
Now referring to whatever notes she carried on her data slate, Allen replied, “Comparative analysis of the
Defiant
’s sensor logs showed that the ionized plasma emissions they detected, while faint, were a definite match for the impulse engines of a Klingon D7 battle cruiser.” She looked up from her notes. “The Klingons aren’t in the habit of trading or selling military hardware, are they?”
Solow smiled, knowing the question was rhetorical, from her tone as much as the fact that Commander Allen was well-versed in the machinations of the Klingon military. Indeed, she was one of Starfleet Command’s foremost experts and advisers. Still, the notion was not without merit.
“Maybe not,” he said, “but if that was a Klingon ship playing games with the
Defiant,
then they had to get that cloaking technology from somewhere.” He let the sentence trail off, watching as Allen’s expression melted into a frown.
“The Romulans?” she asked. “Working with the Klingons?” She shook her head. “That’s going to keep me up nights.”
Offering a slight, humorless chuckle, Solow nodded. “It’s one possible explanation, but I’ll be damned if we’ve got the slightest hint of anything like that going on.” None of the reports he had been reading from Starfleet Intelligence had provided even the most inconsequential evidence to support the notion that the Klingons and the Romulans—or representatives who might or might not be operating with the authorization of their respective governments—had entered into some sort of alliance. While the very idea might be laughable to the casual observer, Solow knew that Starfleet Tactical had among its vast library of simulations and strategic planning more than one scenario featuring Federation starships pitted against combined fleets of Romulan and Klingon ships. So far as Solow was concerned, the results as provided by computers devoted to the execution of seemingly endless tactical war games were, to say the least, rather less than encouraging.
“For the Klingons to partner for any reason with the Romulans would suggest something’s upsetting someone somewhere,” Allen said, “perhaps for both sides. Are they that worried about us?”
Solow nodded. “Anything’s possible. After all, we’re not exactly overflowing with useful intelligence data so far as our friends across the Neutral Zone are concerned.”
Despite the period of isolation the Romulan Star Empire had imposed upon itself for decades following its defeat at the hands of Earth and its small band of allies, Starfleet Intelligence had made a handful of attempts to insert covert agents into the Romulan government and military. Most were never heard from again, and those who had survived detection had done so only by immersing themselves in Romulan society to the point of invisibility. Contact with such agents was sporadic at best, and with the care nearly every citizen of the Empire seemed to employ in order to safeguard information, reports offered by the operatives often were of little use.
“It certainly doesn’t make any sense on the face of it,” Allen said. “Romulan and Klingon cultures are so different, it’s hard to imagine them ever agreeing on anything, let alone getting along to the
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