Declassified

The Vulcan shook her head. “No, you asked if you could offer me something to drink. I merely granted your request.” Why was she acting this way? T’Pry

Sandesjo’s mouth curled into a small, hesitant smile, and her green eyes bored into T’Pry

“No,” T’Pry

“Commander,” the aide said, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me, but I didn’t think Vulcans flirted.”

Pausing to consider her answer, T’Pry

Her blunt remark seemed to catch Sandesjo by surprise, and she blinked several times before offering a response. Then, leaning forward so that her elbows rested atop the table, she regarded T’Pry

“There are always possibilities,” T’Pry

A

At first unwilling to believe the conclusion to which her investigation had led her, T’Pry

There may be only one way to be certain.

While it might not be enough to engage the services of the Judge Advocate General or even Starfleet Security, T’Pry

“I have to tell you,” Sandesjo said, clasping her hands atop the table and looking down at her fingers as she interlaced them, “this isn’t the sort of thing I do very often.”

T’Pry

The mission must come first.It was an unconvincing rebuke, T’Pry

“Nor is it something with which I have much familiarity,” she said, sensing an opportunity to perhaps put them both at ease. “Perhaps we should ‘take things slowly,’ as you humans sometimes say.”

Sandesjo smiled again. “Perhaps, but not tooslowly, I hope,” she said, holding T’Pry

A challenge, indeed, but one T’Pry

9

Jetanien always had fancied himself rather accomplished when it came to studying and deciphering the nuances of facial expressions and body language. In particular, having lived and worked in proximity to many representatives of Earth during his long diplomatic career, he considered himself more than capable of discerning much from the way humans emoted and carried themselves.

Such proficiency was not required on this evening as he stood before Diego Reyes in the commodore’s office, looking across the station commander’s desk as the human rubbed his temples and offered the latest in a series of fervent wishes that he were anywhere but here on Starbase 47.

“They told me this job would be hard when they offered it to me,” Reyes said, shaking his head as he reached for the cup of coffee sitting on the desk near his right hand. “But I had to be stupid and call their bluff.”

Amused by his friend’s penchant for self-deprecating humor, Jetanien laughed. “On the contrary, Diego, I can think of no one offhand who I believe is as suited to this assignment. You have the perfect blend of healthy skepticism and objectivity as well as the consummate leadership skills which will be required in order to guide this mission no matter what course it ends up charting.”

“Remind me to hire you if I ever need a publicist,” Reyes said, pausing to sip from his coffee. “You can write all the press releases to go with the book I’ll write when this is all over, assuming it ends up being a story worth telling.” He reached for the computer terminal positioned at one corner of his desk and swiveled the unit so Jetanien could see its display monitor. “Take a look at this. It’s a report from Starfleet Intelligence on the latest Klingon ship movements in the Taurus Reach. It seems our friends from the Empire have taken an interest in several systems besides Traelus where we’ve been poking around.”

Studying the report displayed on the monitor, Jetanien noted that it had been coded and stamped with a top-secret Starfleet Intelligence classification, no doubt sent to Reyes under heavy encryption and intended only for his eyes as well as the small number of people who were aware of Starbase 47’s true purpose in the Taurus Reach. A perusal of the systems cited in the report gave the ambassador pause.