The heavy odor of sweat and ale permeated the thick atmosphere in a dank and dirty Romulan saloon. From his cramped booth in an isolated corner, Solek, first officer of the USS Venture, watched the comings and goings of the clientele with keen interest.
The patrons that frequented this establishment were a filthy and foul-mouthed lot, most of whom had just shuffled in from long shifts in the dilithium mines that were so populous on Remus.
Small, dim lights hovered discretely in the center isles, well away from alcoves and corner tables—no doubt to preserve the anonymity of certain members of the clientele whose faces were hidden in the darkness and who could very well be watching him. Solek imagined that more than a few sordid dealings and treacherous plots had been hatched in this seedy black hole of a bar.
Under normal circumstances, Solek wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this—his strict Vulcan teachings would not condone it—and he considered himself a true Vulcan now, having spent his better years on Vulcan and serving the Federation.
The Vulcan's had saved him from a life that would have only led him down a sordid path to a violent end, and under normal circumstances, he dared not dishonor them by reverting back to his old Romulan ways.
Rarely did he allow himself to relax his austere composure, however in this place, so immersed in the culture he had once shunned and drew out of his body like the poison it was, he found that he could still easily blend and interact with Romulans as if he had never left. Under ordinary circumstances, he would find this discovery to be disconcerting to say the least, but these were no ordinary circumstances. Someone had tried to murder his former captain . . . his friend. The time had come for Solek to reconnect with his former ways…and to take a little vengeance.
He glanced furtively up at the lengthy bar situated near the crowded entrance. Lt. Verdi, dressed in a similar fashion as he, in a loose fitting cloak with dirt smudged on her face, was conversing with a Romulan woman nearly twice her age and girth. Judging by the apparent ease of their conversation, Verdi fit in well. Her disguise was a testament to B-4's brilliant handiwork. The tapered ears and slanted brows gave her smooth dark face a keen and warrior-like visage. She just might get out alive.
She caught his gaze and shook her head slightly. Still no sign of the man they had come to meet. Solek turned his gaze to the drink in front of him and considered his options.
Perhaps their contact had been captured. The likelihood of the Tal Shiar discovering their rendezvous was very real and would have horrendous consequences for all of them. If Verdi and he were captured in Romulan territory, the Federation would suffer scandal of disastrous proportions. Then of course there was the Tal Shiar's legendarily brutal treatment of its political prisoners, many of whom chose death as their only means of escape. Solek did not consider their capture a viable option, especially where Verdi was concerned.
Verdi had no qualms about this mission. She was an exceptional woman and one whom he prized greatly as a lover and friend. When he confided his plan to her, she insisted in coming along in case he came to trouble. As much as he wanted her to remain behind on Venture, he could not refuse her. Her first assignment had been in security, with her skills as a fighter and her keen sense of observation, she would be an asset in this endeavor. Verdi was loyal to him and above all…she loved him, and that was something he still could not understand.
Solek's gaze was drawn to a couple who had just entered the establishment and had apparently already visited all of the other bars on this bawdry stretch of road outside the mines—they'd had a bit too much to drink. Or so it would appear to the untrained eye. Solek's Vulcan education had given him an advantage. Even though they appeared to be inebriated, he could sense their unease.
They staggered by his table and the male unceremoniously slumped down into the bench across the table from him.
"This is the only place to sit, comrade," he said. "You don't mind if I stay here for a moment to catch my breath? I just lost a fortune at the tables down the hall and I must stay clear of them for the rest of the night."
"That is not my concern," replied Solek in a threatening tone.
The man plopped a latinum square on the table. "For your trouble."
Solek glanced at the coin and slowly looked into the man's bloodshot eyes. "You take me for a Reman, sir. You insult me and then expect me to accept this mere coin as recompense?"
The other man smiled keenly and held a dangerous glint in his eye as he slapped down two more. "We are even now, my friend."
Solek pocketed the coins and the man nodded curtly to his accomplice. The woman gave Solek a stern once over and left them alone.
Contact having been established, the brusque man spoke in a low voice. "You risk much, Vulcan. The eyes and ears of the Tal Shiar are everywhere."
"The risk is even greater for you, who would be considered a traitor to the empire," Solek replied. "But we are not here to speak of our motives."
"Yes, then to the business at hand. Your man, this Crevlin…is vile. He has no courage. He is using the generosity of our great Praetor to keep his skin safe in Romulan territory. It is most disgraceful," the man said. His brows furrowed into deep ridges on his forehead, but he spoke evenly. "My benefactor, he sees the humiliation from the Romulan peoples' eyes. He wants that scum dead. Is this something you can accommodate, Vulcan, or does this request fly in the face of your 'logical' ideals?"
The question gave Solek pause. His primary reason for going after Crevlin had been for vengeance. That motivation had been the driving force behind his actions ever since the terrible day on Onari when the Banquet Hall fell down around him. Long ago, Captain Paris risked everything for a boy, a Romulan stowaway who had no name. He owed Paris his life. Solek never questioned that the course on which he now moved was the right one, but he could hardly call it logical.
"Sir, Vulcan's believe in the logic of justice. This is all I seek."
"You lie. This is personal for you. I see it in your eyes," the man said shrewdly. "It would be convenient to have someone such as yourself perform this service for us. My benefactor has great ambition. It would not bode well for him to be connected to this deed. Strangely, he has great confidence in you, though I personally do not trust a Vulcan whose logic is fuelled by emotion. I shall keep my eye on you." He shifted back. "If this is a Federation ploy, a trick, to undermine his political objectives, then I will make sure that you," He gestured to Verdi's place at the bar. "And your friend, become well acquainted with the Tal Shiar."
Solek did not glance at Verdi. He had experienced her skills in self-defense first hand in the Venture's holodeck training programs. He was confident that she could hold her own. Instead, he focused on presenting cool resolve. "Threats are neither necessary nor prudent, sir, since Crevlin's downfall will be mutually beneficial. Now, do you have the information I seek, or is my faith in your honor misplaced?"
The Romulan glowered, and after a moment's hesitation, he retrieved a package from the pocket of his tatty cloak. "In this packet you will find a memory chip which will give you Crevlin's last reported whereabouts. He does not sit still, this man. Likely by the time you retrieve this information, he will have moved on to another hiding place. At the moment, this is the best we can give you. Also, you will find a pass key to the storage facility in hangar nine." Then he added with a hint of repugnance, "where you will find the rest of your provisions."
Solek took the packet and slipped it surreptitiously into his pocket and without another word, he slid casually out of his seat at the corner table, leaving the Romulan alone to brood about the deal he had just made. He briefly caught Verdi's eye and nodded. She would follow him out when the time was right. As Solek made his way through the crowd and to the doors, the thought occurred to him that beating Crevlin at his game could prove to be more difficult than he had anticipated.
The news that Crevlin had not remained in his sanctuary in that small bit of Romulan territory near the Onari sector had not come as a surprise to him. Solek had expected as much. But time was still on Crevlin's side and he very well could be making his move against his next target. If Crevlin desired to make his presence felt again near Onari, a hit against the Federation, at the outpost on Aristarchus would fulfill this need.
Aristarchan sun shone particularly bright this morning, sapping the ground of every last drop of dew. This would be an extremely hot and eventful day. B'Elanna hoped it would also be a productive one.
They had been able to get through to Admiral Janeway over the subspace relays and the Admiral had assured them she would do what she could to get those who wished to leave, transportation off Aristarchus. She would contact them when she had procured a transport for them. As hopeful as that sounded, B'Elanna wasn't holding her breath. In order to get a transport, Janeway would have to convince the man in charge of security in the Onari sector, Commodore Preston of their dire need. Not an easy task considering that Starfleet—especially Preston—believed they had the situation well under control. He would not release security restrictions unless he had good reason.
B'Elanna sat in the shade of a storage shed outside the compound watching her husband. He stood on the edge of a short rise and studied the sky through a pair of binoculars. He had been waiting here for his first officer to arrive ever since sunrise when Solek had first contacted them. Tom had been in a nervous state of unease ever since he found out about Solek's trek to Remus, which is nestled at the very center of Romulan territory. Tom had not expected him to go that far and he was worried that Solek had been waylaid on his way here.
It would be no easy task getting through the neutral zone. If he were caught, the repercussions would be catastrophic not only for Solek, but for the Paris family as well. Tom could end up in prison for he rest of his life. The very thought twisted B'Elanna's stomach into knots, and she had not mentioned this possibility to him for fear it would drive a deeper wedge between them. This was the most terrible situation she could ever imagine, but she had no choice but to support him and try to believe he was right.
"Come and sit in the shade Tom," B'Elanna called to him. "It's too hot for you to be standing out there so long. He'll come."
Tom lowered his binoculars and walked toward the shed. He sat down on a crate beside her and swiped the sweat from his forehead.
"You need a hat," she remarked. "You're getting sunburned." She handed him a bottled water.
"I know." He took a long drink and raised he binoculars to his eyes again.
"He'll come," she said again, and she took his injured hand. "He has to."
Tom squeezed her hand, and she was surprised at the strength of his grip. "You're getting stronger."
"I feel stronger today," he said. "Though still not strong enough." He lowered the binoculars and looked over at her. "You're right. He'll come whether I'm out here or not. Maybe we ought to go in."
"Sounds like an excellent idea to me." She started to get up, but he gripped her hand again, stopping her.
"B'Elanna…I haven't always made the right choices in my life. Only time will tell about the decisions I've made here. Whether they're right or wrong, I'm sorry you're caught up in them."
"Tom, for better or worse, I'm with you. I'm going to make the best of things," she said. "I won't back away from this no matter what happens." She gazed into his blue eyes for a moment. They were bloodshot from the hot wind and his face was so burnt that he looked almost feverish. She put the back of her hand against his forehead. "You're hot," she said. "Let's go inside. I don't want you to get heat stroke on top of everything else."
"Wait a minute," Tom said and he stood up quickly, a smile spreading across his face. "He's here. Look."
He pointed at a small pin sized streak of white that marred the clear blue sky. "Damn him," he said with a laugh. He gazed through the binoculars again. "It's Romulan. The ship is Romulan."
"Could he be more obvious?" B'Elanna remarked. "You sure it's him?"
"I'm sure," Tom said as he once again walked out into the sun and waited for the ship to land.