Текст книги "What Judgments Come"

Автор книги: Dayton Ward

Соавторы: Kevin Dilmore
сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

My, aren’t we melodramatic in the morning.

Stifling an urge to yawn—itself a consequence of having been roused from slumber that was already too short and prone to interruption—Nogura reached for the steaming cup of green tea sitting on his desk. As he cradled the cup near his chest and allowed it to warm his hands, he savored its aroma. Its effects were soothing, helping to alleviate the foul mood that had hovered over him since he was awakened. If only solving all of the other problems he faced could be accomplished with such ease.

Turning his attention from the viewscreen to the cadre of officers he had assembled at far too early an hour, he took a first, tentative sip of his tea before asking, “So, what’s the story?”

Lieutenant Haniff Jackson, Starbase 47’s brawny chief of security, was the first to answer, “At approximately 2240 hours last night, one of our informants observed an altercation between Diego Reyes and one of the Omari-Ekon’s Orion employees.” Standing near the viewscreen, Jackson consulted the data slate he carried, which appeared small and fragile in his large hands. “My informant doesn’t know what caused the fight, only that it took place shortly after Reyes met with Tim Pennington near the bar in the Omari-Ekon’s central gaming hall. By his account, the Orion seemed to be acting in a belligerent manner toward Mister Reyes, before attempting to restrain him from leaving the bar.”

“Restrain him?” Nogura repeated, frowning.

Despite his composed bearing, Jackson smiled. “That was his word, Admiral, but based on his report, I don’t know if I’d go that far. Apparently, Reyes and the Orion exchanged words, and when Reyes tried to leave, the Orion grabbed him by the arm. Mister Reyes promptly demonstrated the risks that come with such foolhardy action.”

“That sounds like Reyes,” said Lieutenant Commander Holly Moyer, Starbase 47’s ranking representative of Starfleet’s Judge Advocate General Corps, from where she sat in one of the two chairs positioned before Nogura’s desk. Recently promoted to her current rank, Moyer at present was standing in as the station’s interim JAG liaison until Starfleet decided what to do about replacing Captain Desai, who had departed the station following Nogura’s granting her a transfer to an Earth-based posting. While he had been reluctant to approve her request, it had become evident from Desai’s conduct and attitude that she harbored no small measure of disapproval of Operation Vanguard’s classified nature as well as decisions and actions which had come about as a consequence of maintaining that secrecy. Following Desai’s departure, Starfleet had promised a proper replacement for her at the earliest opportunity, and until then Moyer was shouldering a formidable load. So far as Nogura could tell, the commander was adapting to her new responsibilities with aplomb.

“I take it he’s okay?” Nogura asked, blowing on his tea to cool it.

Sitting next to Moyer, the station’s intelligence officer, Commander Serrosel ch’Nayla, nodded. “Yes, Admiral. Mister Reyes was not further challenged after the incident, and our informants say that, so far, neither Ganz nor any of his people seem interested in pursuing the matter.” The Andorian chan shifted in his seat as he cleared his throat. “However, it’s worth noting that the Orion who initiated the exchange, Lekkar, seems to have gone missing.”

Moyer’s expression was one of concern. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

From where she stood behind ch’Nayla and to the left of Jackson, Lieutenant T’Prynn replied, “It would not be out of the question for Ganz or his employer, Neera, to sanction the removal of an employee who posed potential security risks.” The Vulcan woman’s hands were clasped behind her back, her expression passive even as her right eyebrow arched. “It is a proven method of Ganz’s when dealing with persons he finds threatening or otherwise undesirable.”

Turning in her seat, Moyer said, “A simple ‘yes’ would’ve sufficed. So, we believe Ganz or Neera ordered this Lekkar killed. Do we know why?”

“No,” Nogura said, “nor do I particularly care. What I do care about is whether Ganz, or Neera, or whoever, might decide that a better long-term alternative to killing their own people is simply getting rid of Reyes. We need to get him out of there.”

“So that we can arrest him again?” Moyer asked.

Nogura eyed her with annoyance. “That’s what is usually done with those who’ve divulged Starfleet secrets, and consorted with the enemy to place Starfleet or Federation personnel and property at risk.”

“With all due respect, Admiral,” Moyer countered, “we don’t know the whole story. Diego Reyes is a lot of things, but a traitor? I find that hard to believe.”

Holding up a hand, Nogura shook his head. “I’d like nothing more than to share your doubts, Commander, but at the very least, there are questions to be answered. If nothing else, Reyes is still a convicted criminal, with a prison sentence waiting in the wings if and when all of this insanity finally shakes out. Even if it’s decided that he still has to be sent to that penal colony on Earth, it’s a better fate than anything Ganz has planned for him.”

“That goes without saying,” Jackson said.

T’Prynn said, “I also do not believe Mister Reyes to be acting in a treasonous manner. I spoke with Tim Pennington following his excursion aboard the Omari-Ekon, during which he met with Reyes. Mister Pennington told me that Reyes’s actions, particularly his dealings with the Klingons, were guided by the desire to minimize any unnecessary casualties to station personnel.”

“He requested sanctuary aboard that Orion ship,” Nogura countered. “He gave the Klingons everything they needed to launch a mission of espionage and sabotage against us.”

Nodding, the Vulcan replied, “Indeed he did, sir, but as he told Mister Pennington, the Klingons were going to conduct such an operation with or without his assistance. According to him, Reyes only provided information essential to allowing the Klingon-contracted operative the access he needed to carry out his mission with a minimum of collateral damage.”

Though he started to retort, Nogura stopped himself and instead considered what he had just heard. Was it possible that Diego Reyes, faced with the possibility of watching helplessly as any number of the personnel he once commanded suffered injury or death at Klingon hands, had chosen the lesser evil, sacrificing any hope for his own freedom and perhaps even his life? Of course, the admiral conceded, but Starfleet and he were a long way from making such a determination. Doing so would require access to Reyes himself.

As though reading Nogura’s mind, Jackson asked, “Does this mean we can think about staging an operation to go in and get him?”

Ch’Nayla turned to regard the security chief, his antennae shifting atop his head. “That would not be prudent.”

“It also wouldn’t be legal,” Moyer added. “Admiral, we’ve been over this. Any attempt to extradite Diego by force would be tantamount to an act of war against the Orions.”

Nogura could not help a snort of derision. “Given everything I know about the Orions, they’ll bend over backwards to avoid an all-out confrontation with the Federation. They’re just as liable to view any ‘disagreements’ we have with Neera and Ganz as the cost of doing business, and cut their losses.” In his experience, such decisions were the norm more often than not for the Orion central government, such as it was. The small, independent state relied heavily on trade with Federation as well as nonaligned worlds, and to a lesser degree with the Klingons, the Tholians, and other upstart adversaries of the major interstellar powers. Nogura was confident that any incident involving a lowly merchant gaming ship—which may or may not be involved in any manner of illicit activities—would suffer only brief, superficial scrutiny before being forgotten in the interests of preserving the faзade of peaceful relations with the Federation.

“That may be true, sir,” Moyer replied, nodding, “but you’d still be taking a big risk. Going by the book, a court-martial wouldn’t be out of the question.”

Releasing a small chuckle, Nogura said, “Commander, you don’t get to my position and standing in Starfleet without ruffling several sets of feathers along the way. I’ve been threatened with court-martial no less than a dozen times during my career. So far, there have been no takers.” Of course, the duties with which he currently was charged, and the secrets he was responsible for keeping, far outweighed anything he had overseen during his years of service. “Still, your advice and warnings are sound. We will continue to tread carefully.” For how long, Nogura was not certain.

“Admiral,” ch’Nayla said, “there may be another avenue available to us.” He then turned and gestured toward T’Prynn.

The Vulcan stepped closer. “While Mister Pennington’s original intentions for visiting the Omari-Ekon were legitimate, in that he hoped to meet with Mister Reyes, I co-opted his excursion to the vessel for another purpose. I asked him to relay a specific phrase that was agreed upon by Mister Reyes and myself as a means of determining whether he was agreeable to undertake certain actions on our behalf. Based on his response, he has indicated his willingness to do so.”

“You mean spy?” Moyer said, making no effort to hide her disbelief. “For you?”

Nodding, ch’Nayla said, “T’Prynn enlisted Mister Pennington’s assistance with my authorization, Commander. It seemed an idea worth exploring, and Mister Reyes’s consent does afford us a singular opportunity.”

“How in the hell did you get a message to him in the first place?” Jackson asked. “I mean, before his meeting with Pennington.”

T’Prynn said, “I exploited a vulnerability in their subspace communications system in order to contact Reyes via the communications panel in his quarters aboard the Omari-Ekon.”

“They let him have access to the comm system?” Nogura asked.

“It was deactivated and a lockout had been placed on it,” T’Prynn replied. “However, that is not an obstacle to someone trained in the circumventing of such measures. I was able to forge an access code long enough for me to have a brief conversation with Mister Reyes. We used this opportunity to set up a means of initiating covert information exchange through the use of gobetweens to be identified at a later time. Our entire conversation lasted less than two minutes.”

Nogura pondered what he was hearing, before allowing himself a small smile. “There seems to be no end to your talents, Lieutenant.” He had at first been reluctant to grant Commander ch’Nayla’s request to retain T’Prynn’s services and give her an active role in the Andorian officer’s ongoing intelligence efforts. Despite his initial misgivings, there was no discounting T’Prynn’s skills, and her knowledge of the key players not only on the station but also on vessels like the Omari-Ekon made her a valuable asset. Regulations had required Nogura to mete out punishment and demote her for her disobedience and flouting of Starfleet regulations and protocols. He naturally wondered—if only for a moment—if T’Prynn might cast aside the logic and maturity expected from a Vulcan of her years and seek retribution for her conviction, either against him directly or against the station and its crew. Her own actions, even while acting as a fugitive from Starfleet authority, along with his own instincts, told the admiral that her engaging in any sort of traitorous behavior was an unlikely scenario. By all accounts, official and otherwise, Lieutenant T’Prynn had presented herself as someone for whom the past had been put to rest, and that she was ready to get on with whatever duties she might be assigned. For now, and while operating under ch’Nayla’s watchful eye, Nogura was willing to let things play out. “I’m sensing this contact method of yours was of the single-use variety?” he asked.

“That’s correct, Admiral,” T’Prynn replied. “I was unable to mask my entry into the system. Instead, I made the illicit communication appear as though it was initiated by one of Ganz’s lower-level enforcers to a discreet contact off the ship. According to unconfirmed reports, that person is no longer in Ganz’s employ.”

Frowning, Moyer asked, “Are you saying you set up one of Ganz’s men to take the fall for your espionage?”

“I’m saying I deflected attention from Mister Reyes,” T’Prynn replied, “thereby preserving his safety for at least a while longer. How long the status quo is maintained will depend entirely on his actions as well as our own.”

Though she clearly was uncomfortable with the harsh yet unspoken reality of the likely consequences of T’Prynn’s subterfuge, Moyer’s only other reaction to the Vulcan’s revelation was to draw a deep breath before asking, “What is it that he’s supposed to be doing?”

“We need to know where Ganz obtained the Mirdonyae Artifact he gave us,” ch’Nayla said. “The only way to get that information is to access the Omari-Ekon’s navigational logs.”

A silence fell over the room, during which Nogura leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands before him and touching his forefingers to his lips. “Interesting,” he said after a moment. As incredible as it had been to discover that Diego Reyes had somehow parlayed his way to sanctuary aboard the Orion’s ship, learning that Ganz also had in his possession a twin to the enigmatic object Ming Xiong had brought back with him from Mirdonyae V was something else altogether. While there appeared to be no evidence that the merchant prince had the slightest notion of the artifact’s origin or purpose, or how it fit into the complex tapestry that was mystery of the Shedai, Ganz was no fool. Rather, Neera, Ganz’s superior, was no fool. Even without specific knowledge of the artifact itself, she comprehended its value to Starfleet and to Nogura in particular. That, along with the possibility of somehow repatriating Reyes, was the primary reason the admiral had returned the Omari-Ekon’s station docking privileges.

“You’re kidding,” Jackson said, his eyes wide. “We think Ganz might know where those things come from?”

T’Prynn replied, “That, or he can lead us to someone who does. Given what Doctor Marcus and Lieutenant Xiong and the rest of the research team have discovered about the Mirdonyae Artifacts and the power they control, particularly with respect to the Shedai, it is vital that we find the objects’ origin before anyone else.”

“Agreed,” Nogura added. The two artifacts currently were being stored in the Vault, the secret research facility hidden within the bowels of the station and dedicated to studying all aspects of the Shedai and their technology. Each of the artifacts held a Shedai trapped within its crystalline confines. Despite what had been learned about the ancient, all-powerful alien race to this point, the research team had not yet found a way to communicate with the entities contained within the objects. Further, simple guesswork and experimentation without any true understanding of the artifacts had come at an appalling cost. After learning that the team’s use of the objects in attempts to make contact with planets suspecting of harboring Shedai technology resulted in the obliteration of eleven worlds, testing on the artifacts had been suspended.

Even the Shedai themselves seemed afraid of the power the things contained, if the attack on Starbase 47 itself by a Shedai entity was any indication. That much, at least, seemed to make sense, given Lieutenant Xiong’s theory that the crystals looked to have been constructed by some race, possibly as a weapon to be used against the Shedai. The alien that had attacked the station in an apparent quest to get at the artifacts had wreaked considerable damage, from which Xiong and the Vault team were still recovering. Though much of the exterior repairs to the station were complete, work continued in some areas of the Vault. As for the crew and civilians residing aboard the starbase, the overwhelming majority of whom were unaware of the Shedai’s true origins and power, they had resumed their normal schedules, but Nogura knew an air of apprehension remained. Would other Shedai come? There was no way to know the answer to that question, just as there was no easy solution for how the station might deal with another, perhaps larger assault. It was only through the most fortunate stroke of luck that Xiong had figured out how to employ one of the Mirdonyae Artifacts to capture the alien. Since then, it had been learned that each of the crystals was imprisoning up to a dozen of the creatures in similar fashion.

Who knew what other abilities the objects possessed, either individually or working in concert with others of their kind? It was clear they represented something of a threat to the Shedai, which made finding their source and learning more about their capabilities a matter of paramount importance. Even in their most innocuous state, the Mirdonyae Artifacts represented unparalleled power that could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.

The main problem with that, Nogura mused with no small amount of cynicism, is that there’s no guarantee ours are the right hands.

“With all due respect to everyone in the room who outranks me,” Jackson said after a moment, “that being everyone, we need to be sure we all understand what we’re talking about here. If we get Commo … Mister Reyes to help us, and he gets caught, the Orions won’t show him anything even remotely resembling mercy.”

“He will not be caught,” T’Prynn said. “The situation we face here is far more controlled than when we sent Cervantes Quinn and the late Commander McLellan to infiltrate the Orion freighter captured by the Gorn. We will be able to anticipate and react to unforeseen complications with greater speed and resources than what Quinn and McLellan had available on their mission.”

Nodding, Nogura replied, “That’s certainly true.” After an Orion freighter had been damaged by an unknown gravitational anomaly in Gorn space, it was determined that the phenomenon it had encountered had displayed elements of the Jinoteur Pattern, an energy waveform that, when employed in concert with the Taurus Meta-Genome, appeared to be the key to decrypting the massive artificially engineered raw genetic material created by the Shedai. The pattern had received its name from Lieutenant Ming Xiong, who had employed the moniker in reference to the equally enigmatic solar system determined to be the source of the Shedai and all the technology and power the ancient race once commanded. Though it had fueled much of the research and discovery conducted by Operation Vanguard since the top secret project’s inception, all traces of the waveform appeared to vanish along with the Jinoteur system itself at the hands of the mysterious entity known as the Shedai Apostate. The powerful alien had engineered the staggering feat as a means of preventing the other surviving members of his race from regaining control over their technology and the immense power it once had given them.

As for the damaged Orion ship, it had been captured for study by a Gorn military vessel. Operating with the clandestine support of the U.S.S. Endeavour, Quinn and McLellan attempted to obtain sensor and navigational logs of the anomaly that had crippled the freighter. During their operation they almost lost the valuable data to a Klingon spy who also was pursuing the information. The covert agents ultimately were successful in their mission: preventing the Klingons from obtaining knowledge of the Jinoteur Pattern reading or its source. They also had received information from the Shedai Apostate about the existence of even more of the artifacts, which might be the key to defeating the rest of the astonishing being’s race.

If only McLellan had been so lucky on her next assignment, Nogura mused, with no small amount of regret. The retrieval mission had spawned yet another assignment for Quinn and McLellan, with a similar goal of keeping out of Klingon hands not only Shedai technology, but also that of the Tkon, another ancient, long-dead race, and the one responsible for the Mirdonyae Artifacts. It was while carrying out that demanding task that McLellan had given her life in order to preserve the mission objective.

“There’s a larger issue,” Moyer said. “If the Orions catch him, they’ll turn it into a public relations nightmare for us. They’ll broadcast whatever show trial they decide to hold for him across subspace, and they’ll execute him in front of the entire quadrant.”

Jackson added, “The Klingons would provide a clean execution, but not these thugs.” He paused, shaking his head. “That’s no way for anybody to go.”

“Then we should probably take steps to ensure that doesn’t happen,” ch’Nayla said.

Nogura rose from his chair. “That would be my preference, Commander.” Crossing his arms, he began walking the length of his office, aware of his officers turning to watch him. “However, let us make no mistake, if we enlist Mister Reyes in this effort, the priority must be obtaining any and all information that might help us to track the source of the Mirdonyae Artifacts. His safety, as well as any black eye the Orions could give the Federation if they were to capture him, would regrettably have to be viewed as secondary concerns.” Halting his pacing, he turned to T’Prynn. “Lieutenant, are you certain he’s willing to take on such a risk?”

“I am, Admiral,” the Vulcan replied without hesitation. “I believe Diego Reyes to be incapable of shirking his duty, regardless of his current standing.”

Nodding in agreement with her assessment, Nogura reached up to stroke his chin. He was no stranger to difficult decisions, and this certainly would not be the first time he issued orders that put people at risk. So, why did this feel different, and for reasons he could not explain?

I’m damned if I know.

“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Commander ch’Nayla, Lieutenant T’Prynn: you may proceed.”

7

Music filled the evening air over Paradise City.

Ambassador Jetanien stepped from his third-story office onto his small balcony, itself the lone architectural indulgence he had allowed himself when outlining his facility needs to the Corps of Engineers attachment tasked with the building’s construction. His vantage point offered him an unobstructed view of the city’s main courtyard, and out here the music was loud and vibrant. Not that the song being played necessarily was to his liking—he believed it to be an inventive take on a traditional Tellarite work chantey—but it was a vast improvement over construction noise, shouts of disagreement, or other flavors of cacophony he had grown accustomed to hearing in recent weeks.

Leaning over the balcony railing, Jetanien looked down at the street to find the source of the song. He saw what appeared to be the beginnings of a street party, complete with musicians occupying a small performance stage at the center of the thoroughfare. A pair of block-long rows of dining tables and benches radiated from the stage and down the street, and booths lining the sidewalks offered freshly prepared dishes from the cuisines of a dozen species. A crowd that Jetanien judged to be several hundred strong, representing easily half of the new settlement’s population, had already collected in the courtyard to enjoy food and fellowship. The atmosphere in the streets was one of warmth and welcome.

“Happy Great Hope Day!”

Turning at the sound of the voice, Jetanien stepped back into his office to find his administrative attachй, Sergio Moreno, waiting for him. Extending his manus in greeting to the smiling, brown-skinned young human standing near his desk, Jetanien said, “And I do think it will be, Mister Moreno.”

Moreno returned the gesture by clasping Jetanien’s scaled mitt within his hands. “Are you watching the celebration? I think we’re getting a great turnout.”

“As this is likely to be the only social event this evening in Paradise City, let alone on all of Nimbus III,” Jetanien said, “I would certainly hope so.” He added a few clicks of laughter that seemed to cause Moreno’s smile to fade. “Don’t get me wrong, Sergio. I’m very encouraged by what I see.”

“Your plan to create a citywide celebration is being well received, Ambassador,” Moreno said as he released Jetanien’s manus. “A new holiday we can call our own is not only a great unifier, but a boost to morale after a lot of hard work.”

Jetanien felt a small surge of pride upon hearing that. While not overly grand in scope, the street festival to celebrate Great Hope Day had been his idea, and it certainly was something he hoped might succeed enough to continue as an annual event for the colony. He had marked the date on his calendar weeks ago, eyeing it as a means of rewarding the efforts of Paradise City residents for completing construction on the experimental colony’s first phase. Events in past weeks, including a few altercations and accusations among the colonists themselves, apparently had begun to take an emotional toll on all involved in the endeavor. Such behavior was not unexpected, of course; it was part of the natural and unavoidable growing pains for the first settlement ever to be shared by citizens of three such disparate political and social entities as the United Federation of Planets and the Klingon and Romulan empires. Despite these and other minor issues, in the end the colonists had persevered, and the results were all around them.

“New holiday?” Jetanien asked. “I appreciate your optimism, Sergio, and I can only hope that it’s contagious.”

“I’ll do my best to spread it,” Moreno replied as Jetanien settled onto his glenget, a special chair constructed to fit his large, ungainly physique, which allowed him comfortable access to his large stained-wood desk. “Will you be going to the festival yourself?”

“Of course,” Jetanien said. “I first have a brief meeting to attend, after which I shall do my level best to … what do you humans say? Dance the night away.”

Sergio asked, “Then you have time for a few progress reports? Unless you would prefer that I submit them at our morning meeting.”

Jetanien twisted his mandible to affect an expression he had learned best approximated a human’s smile. “You aren’t seeking an excuse to avoid the celebration yourself, are you, Sergio? Surely the smell of the Klingon food isn’t enough to keep you off the streets tonight.”

The attachй smiled. “No, Ambassador, I’ll be going. Actually, I’m waiting for S’anra to arrive so I can accompany her this evening.”

Recognizing the name, Jetanien nodded in approval. “And is this your first date with a Romulan, my good man?”

“Oh, no,” Sergio replied, though Jetanien noticed the color shift in his face indicating the young man was embarrassed.

“Ah!” the ambassador exclaimed. “So, you make a habit of entertaining Romulan women? And what would your mother say?”

Moreno seemed to trip over his own laughter before replying, “No, Ambassador, I mean that this isn’t a date. We’re simply immersing ourselves in the idea of ‘cultural exchange.’ It’s actually more of a wager, to be honest.”

This piqued Jetanien’s curiosity. “How so?”

“We’re each going to see who can find the most foods that the other will like,” Moreno replied. “I talked one of the vendors into using my grandfather’s recipe for chorizo. Very smoky and very spicy. Any Romulan would love it.”

Jetanien nodded. “And I trust you know just what you’ll be letting yourself in for?”

“Oh, I’m fine with anything but the Andorian dishes,” Moreno said. “I’m just not into tuber root and cabbage. I need more meat.”

The chime to Jetanien’s office door sounded, interrupting their discussion. “Come in,” he called out, and the door slid aside to reveal an aged Romulan male, his thin white hair neatly trimmed around his pointed ears. Straight bangs all but covered his brow, and his face, deeply lined and wan, contrasted with the ruddy ceremonial robes draping his withered body.

“Senator D’tran,” Jetanien said, surprised and happy at the sight of his guest. “Please, join me. My aide was just leaving.”

If Moreno was at all surprised by his abrupt dismissal, he did not reveal it through facial expression or body language, a response Jetanien noted as indicating a level of self-control that would befit a successful member of the Diplomatic Corps. Sergio Moreno was the youngest and least experienced of Jetanien’s two-member staff on Nimbus III, but the ambassador considered him well suited to the challenges that came with the significant if not historic mission of overseeing the prototype community of Paradise City. The young man’s soft-spoken demeanor and amiable, accommodating approach to problem-solving seemed to ingratiate him to the diverse local population, which certainly could benefit from as much social lubrication as Jetanien’s office might provide.

“Yes, Senator, I was,” Moreno said. “And Happy Great Hope Day to you, sir.” When D’tran said nothing, the attachй returned his attention to Jetanien. “Enjoy your evening, Ambassador. Should you need me for any reason, don’t hesitate to call.”

Jetanien shook his head. “I cannot imagine needing to interrupt your … cultural exchange. Please give my best to S’anra.”

That prompted D’tran’s first words since his arrival. “She is sure to inform you that her duties in my office will start promptly at our usual hour in the morning.” His voice was low and raspy with age, lending it an edge of intimidation that evoked a wide-eyed expression from Moreno. “And if she does not inform you, you will inform her.” When D’tran’s eyes met Jetanien’s, it was all the ambassador could do not to laugh.

“Certainly, Senator,” Moreno replied, his words tinged with pronounced sincerity. He passed through the doorway, and D’tran waited for the door to close before allowing his smile to widen. “Youth. It is wasted on the young.”

Now free to laugh, Jetanien released a string of clicks and chirps as he indicated a chair in front of his desk for the elderly Romulan. “You enjoy that sort of thing, don’t you?”

Назад к карточке книги "What Judgments Come"