What Judgments Come

“I don’t think so, sir,” the science officer replied, unable to keep the hint of a smile from playing at the corners of her mouth. “For one thing, the energy signatures our sensors are picking up didn’t match against anything on file in the computer banks, which would include anything the Enterprise sca

“Well,” Mbugua said, “I suppose we can give thanks for small favors, then.”

Nyn answered, “That might be the end of the good news, sir.” She gestured to the array of eight status monitors positioned above her console, then waited until Blair and Mbugua returned to stand behind her before pointing to one of the monitors. “While the residual energy readings I’m finding here don’t match anything exactly, there’s still a hint of something similar to Tholian energy weapons.”

“How could a Tholian vessel do that?” Blair asked, waving toward the viewscreen. “Everything we know about their ships tells us they’re outmatched by Klingon D7s, as well as our Constitution-class ships. The only way they have a chance in a stand-up fight is if they bring enough ships to the fight in the first place.” He had read the report of the U.S.S. Bombay’s destruction more than three years ago at the hands of six Tholian ships. The enemy vessels had employed their greater numbers and maneuverability to overcome the Starfleet ship’s greater size and more powerful weapons. They had inflicted sufficient damage that the Bombay’s captain, Hallie Ga

Mbugua said, “Maybe it’s a new weapon—something they’ve managed to keep secret from us. If the Tholians excel at anything, it’s playing their cards close to their vest.”

“Well, we know they’ve got some of the best poker faces around, at any rate,” Blair replied, punctuating his indiscreet observation with a humorless chuckle. “Okay, enough of that. Nyn, prep a briefing packet for Admiral Nogura and his intelligence people back on Vanguard. Include all of your relevant sensor data about the energy readings. Let’s see if they can’t co

Turning from the science station, Blair made his way around the bridge until he stood in front of the main viewscreen. He shook his head as he took in the sight of the destroyed Klingon ships, marveling at the power it must have taken to inflict such damage on the vessels. What might such a weapon, whatever it was and however it might work, do to the Defiant?

Not that I’m in any hurry to find out.

One thing Blair knew—and it was a fact that definitely would be playing into the ever-evolving and always fragile nature of the Taurus Reach’s interstellar diplomatic situation—was that the Tholians appeared to have had quite enough of the Klingons or anyone else pushing them around. Certainly the Klingons would argue that any tolerance the Tholians had shown in the past would seem to be coming to an end. Might the simmering yet still deteriorating relations between the two powers finally be coming to a full boil? Sooner or later, the Federation would be forced to act, if for no other reason than to protect its own interests.

Blair sighed, knowing that when the time for such action finally came, it probably would not be good for anyone involved.

I wonder if it’s too late to retire?

13

Feeling more than a bit exposed, Diego Reyes tried not to look too curious or nervous about the number of patrons inhabiting the bar of the Omari-Ekon’s gaming deck. Though the ship had its slack periods—so far as visitors to its casino, bar, and even its bordello were concerned—it was never truly empty of passengers and other guests, even at this hour in the middle of the day.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” he whispered, covering the act of speaking by rubbing his nose and trying to move his mouth as little as possible. The deception was easy to carry off, mostly due to the noxious odor of cigar smoke coming from a portly Tellarite sitting in an adjacent booth.

Thanks to the subcutaneous transceiver supplied to him by Doctor Fisher, he heard T’Pry

“But you didn’t say whether you thought it was going to work,” Reyes said as he regarded the gaming console set into the table at which he sat in one of the booths along the bar’s rear wall. Like most of the other tables, the system before him allowed a customer to play computerized versions of the various games of chance available in the Omari-Ekon’s casino, either alone against the computer’s simulated dealer or against players sitting at other stations in the bar. The interface was a simple, graphics-driven affair that allowed some customization with respect to presentation, such as the player’s native language. “I don’t see how playing blackjack is going to help us here.”

“I have created a method of infiltrating the central computer via the gaming subsystems,” T’Pry

This entire scheme had been of T’Pry

Wonder if T’Pry