Long strands of ebony hair fell conveniently over the shell of her ear, hiding the small white disc that rested snugly in its canal. Slender, elegant fingers rose to brush that hair back, discreetly adjusting the bug's settings as they passed it. Devi frowned as she listened to the upped volume. There, the Reman commander's voice was definitely louder now, but not as clear as she would have liked. She hesitated, then stepped around the corner and walked down the corridor, stopping halfway and leaning against the wall. She was now in plain view of any assembled in the Romulan senate who decided to look through the decoratively barred doors behind them. At least the sentries had been dismissed. It was a risk she had to take, and in any case it looked like the private meeting was about to wrap up.
The five Remans and four Romulans inside all had their backs turned to her, so involved in whatever was being said that the only threat of discovery was if Praetor Shinzon or the viceroy at his shoulder chanced to raise their eyes. It didn't look like that was going to happen, either, and even if it did there was nothing she could do about it. She took another side-step closer to the doors. The commander was speaking in the Reman language, and Shinzon was replying in it, no doubt in part to irk the Romulans. Devi's Hazthash was rusty, something she would have to remedy when she had the time--something she would have remedied, if her employers had given her the damn time. For now, she would have to play the bug later tonight and listen carefully. She was still relieved that she more than half-understood what Shinzon was saying, even catching a few nuances that were second-nature when she had been fluent.
"The Enterprise will be here on schedule, Commander." Praetor Shinzon pushed back his cape and leaned forward in his seat, staring down the Romulan who had again dissented. His voice was silky and harsh. "And even if it is not, there is little we can do about it. I tire of explaining to you that we need to download the position of the Federation fleet from a starship before we can proceed, and therefore we must wait. Tell me, why does that concept not sink through your skull? It was a rhetorical question," he snapped as the commander opened his mouth. "Now," he surveyed the others with distant arrogance, "does anyone have anything else to add?" Shaking heads and murmured negatives circled through the group. "Good." Shinzon settled back, hooking one leg over the arm of his seat. He glanced up over the heads of those assembled and stiffened.
A woman stood several meters back from the doors, weight rested and one leg folded up against the wall. She could almost be called tall, with hair as black as the emptiness of space hanging just long enough to drape over her shoulders. She straightened when she saw him looking, her expression inscrutable. A human woman. How long had she been standing there? How did she even manage to get into the outer Forum? Shinzon felt his mouth go dry as her gaze met his dark, predatory one: her eyes were all at once blue and green and amber and silver, swirled together like the colors of a nebula.
The contact lasted only a heartbeat, then she turned and quickly vanished around the corner. Shinzon again focused on his collaborators, forcing his voice to be hard and steady. "You may go."
One by one, every Romulan and Reman bowed their head and took their leave. The Praetor stared at the spot the woman had been as they went, unable to shake the feeling of those eyes on him. "Shinzon." A familiar hand on his shoulder accompanied the gravelly voice. He looked up into his viceroy's face. "What is it?"
Shinzon looked back. He shook his head. "Nothing."
****
He saw her again at dinner later that night. It was a lavish affair, the official ceremony that would be decorated with enough speeches from enough important people and enough impressive toasts to send a message to the rest of the Romulan empire: Shinzon was Praetor now. The food was good and the atmosphere formally festive, but Shinzon found himself rather bored until he caught sight of her from across the banquet hall, dressed in gauzy, draping fabric that accented broad shoulders and the curve of the hip, mingling as boldly as you please with the people. She was the only alien in the entire room; Shinzon wondered how he could have missed her, unless she had just come in. He made his way to the long buffet table, smiling and greeting all manner of politicians and generals as he went, where she was surveying the Romulan selection. Shinzon had always preferred Romulan fare himself, even after ten years of the gruel fed to slaves in the dilithium mines. He supposed his human tongue would never agree with Reman tastes, and he felt an absurd thrill of relief to see that he was not the only one.
He picked up a plate and took a place several meters away from her, pretending to look over the food himself. He caught his viceroy's eye and motioned him over with a subtle tilt of his head. "Who is she?" he asked in Hazthash when the Reman was within earshot, taking care to remain focused on depositing a few strips of meat onto his plate but not bothering to lower his voice below normal speaking level. To his dismay and shock, he saw her head drop sharply toward the shoulder closest to him from the corner of his eye, tension in the smooth neck that was exposed by a simple but elegant bun. Did she know their language, then?
"A business representative," his viceroy answered, but murmuring. "She works for Independent Shipping."
"Do they run our weapons?" Shinzon hissed as the woman began to move away.
The viceroy dipped his head. "She was negotiating a contract with the commerce department, last I checked."
Devi felt Shinzon's gaze following her as she returned to her seat. "Lovely," she breathed to herself as she dipped her spoon into the soup. She had better get back to her rooms, and fast, but not before finishing what was in her bowl. After her first taste, though, she almost wished that she had filled it more than halfway: the soup was excellent, delicately sweet and fragrant. She took another spoonful; let it linger on her tongue this time. Fermented something, she decided. Fermented rice? And damned if that isn't sweet olive flower.
The food here really was exceptional. It was too bad she couldn't stay any longer. Leaving before the final toast would look odd, but this was yet another risk she had to take. Her lips pursed. She had been forced to take too many risks already today. I can always plead sick, or space-lag, or something, she thought as she rose from her chair and excused herself graciously to the two Romulans sitting on either side. Shinzon watched her go.
The five Remans and four Romulans inside all had their backs turned to her, so involved in whatever was being said that the only threat of discovery was if Praetor Shinzon or the viceroy at his shoulder chanced to raise their eyes. It didn't look like that was going to happen, either, and even if it did there was nothing she could do about it. She took another side-step closer to the doors. The commander was speaking in the Reman language, and Shinzon was replying in it, no doubt in part to irk the Romulans. Devi's Hazthash was rusty, something she would have to remedy when she had the time--something she would have remedied, if her employers had given her the damn time. For now, she would have to play the bug later tonight and listen carefully. She was still relieved that she more than half-understood what Shinzon was saying, even catching a few nuances that were second-nature when she had been fluent.
"The Enterprise will be here on schedule, Commander." Praetor Shinzon pushed back his cape and leaned forward in his seat, staring down the Romulan who had again dissented. His voice was silky and harsh. "And even if it is not, there is little we can do about it. I tire of explaining to you that we need to download the position of the Federation fleet from a starship before we can proceed, and therefore we must wait. Tell me, why does that concept not sink through your skull? It was a rhetorical question," he snapped as the commander opened his mouth. "Now," he surveyed the others with distant arrogance, "does anyone have anything else to add?" Shaking heads and murmured negatives circled through the group. "Good." Shinzon settled back, hooking one leg over the arm of his seat. He glanced up over the heads of those assembled and stiffened.
A woman stood several meters back from the doors, weight rested and one leg folded up against the wall. She could almost be called tall, with hair as black as the emptiness of space hanging just long enough to drape over her shoulders. She straightened when she saw him looking, her expression inscrutable. A human woman. How long had she been standing there? How did she even manage to get into the outer Forum? Shinzon felt his mouth go dry as her gaze met his dark, predatory one: her eyes were all at once blue and green and amber and silver, swirled together like the colors of a nebula.
The contact lasted only a heartbeat, then she turned and quickly vanished around the corner. Shinzon again focused on his collaborators, forcing his voice to be hard and steady. "You may go."
One by one, every Romulan and Reman bowed their head and took their leave. The Praetor stared at the spot the woman had been as they went, unable to shake the feeling of those eyes on him. "Shinzon." A familiar hand on his shoulder accompanied the gravelly voice. He looked up into his viceroy's face. "What is it?"
Shinzon looked back. He shook his head. "Nothing."
****
He saw her again at dinner later that night. It was a lavish affair, the official ceremony that would be decorated with enough speeches from enough important people and enough impressive toasts to send a message to the rest of the Romulan empire: Shinzon was Praetor now. The food was good and the atmosphere formally festive, but Shinzon found himself rather bored until he caught sight of her from across the banquet hall, dressed in gauzy, draping fabric that accented broad shoulders and the curve of the hip, mingling as boldly as you please with the people. She was the only alien in the entire room; Shinzon wondered how he could have missed her, unless she had just come in. He made his way to the long buffet table, smiling and greeting all manner of politicians and generals as he went, where she was surveying the Romulan selection. Shinzon had always preferred Romulan fare himself, even after ten years of the gruel fed to slaves in the dilithium mines. He supposed his human tongue would never agree with Reman tastes, and he felt an absurd thrill of relief to see that he was not the only one.
He picked up a plate and took a place several meters away from her, pretending to look over the food himself. He caught his viceroy's eye and motioned him over with a subtle tilt of his head. "Who is she?" he asked in Hazthash when the Reman was within earshot, taking care to remain focused on depositing a few strips of meat onto his plate but not bothering to lower his voice below normal speaking level. To his dismay and shock, he saw her head drop sharply toward the shoulder closest to him from the corner of his eye, tension in the smooth neck that was exposed by a simple but elegant bun. Did she know their language, then?
"A business representative," his viceroy answered, but murmuring. "She works for Independent Shipping."
"Do they run our weapons?" Shinzon hissed as the woman began to move away.
The viceroy dipped his head. "She was negotiating a contract with the commerce department, last I checked."
Devi felt Shinzon's gaze following her as she returned to her seat. "Lovely," she breathed to herself as she dipped her spoon into the soup. She had better get back to her rooms, and fast, but not before finishing what was in her bowl. After her first taste, though, she almost wished that she had filled it more than halfway: the soup was excellent, delicately sweet and fragrant. She took another spoonful; let it linger on her tongue this time. Fermented something, she decided. Fermented rice? And damned if that isn't sweet olive flower.
The food here really was exceptional. It was too bad she couldn't stay any longer. Leaving before the final toast would look odd, but this was yet another risk she had to take. Her lips pursed. She had been forced to take too many risks already today. I can always plead sick, or space-lag, or something, she thought as she rose from her chair and excused herself graciously to the two Romulans sitting on either side. Shinzon watched her go.