Some time later, a very angry Romulan woman strode into the Orion's Ten Forward and headed straight for the bar. "Romulan ale," she snapped, glaring at the bartender/cook.
The latter, a towering Klingon known only as Maj, made no comment, only served a tall glass of an orange liquid. Ranka Tyreth glared at it, too.
"This isn't Romulan ale," she declared.
"No, it is not." Maj had a deep, growling voice that sounded like it had been dragged only reluctantly from the depth of the Klingon's chest. If the bar hadn't been between them and if Tyreth hadn't been in a foul mood, or if she hadn't known the Klingon, she would have taken several hasty steps backwards. Maj continued: "You are still on duty, and the ship's protocol clearly states-"
"I don't give a damn about protocol," Tyreth shot back. But she opened her jacket and hung it off the back of her chair. "Anyway, I'm now off duty and I'm still thirsty."
"We are out of Romulan ale," Maj growled without missing a beat.
Tyreth scowled, but she was unwilling to take her chances with the replicators. The Klingon was probably lying but she couldn't prove it and it didn't seem worth it to press the point in any case. Instead she took a drink of the orange liquid and nearly gagged. "What is this?" she demanded. "It's vile."
Instead of answering the question, Maj just took back the glass and put in a replicator, where it dissolved into thin air, the molecules separated and stored for later use. "You are upset," Maj observed.
Fuming, Tyreth thought back on the morning's events. "It's that Cardassian," she growled. "Came down and poked around for a 'surprise inspection' of Engineering. Of course nobody told me about it and the damn spoonhead picked up half the ship's defense specs before I even knew she was there." In Romulan, Tyreth let fly a particularly vile expletive. "Has everyone on this blasted ship forgotten that these people are our enemies?"
"So are the Romulans," Maj observed in his low growl, polishing a glass. In his large hands, the glass looked like a tiny, delicate child's thing. He could crush skulls with those hands.
"I've proved my loyalty to the Federation," Tyreth snapped. "And I've had to work longer and harder than anyone else on this ship to get my post. But this Cardassian, she just drops out of nowhere and we're supposed to hand over the ship's secrets? Why not just broadcast the codes for the planetary defence system across the border?"
"It was not the Cardassians who suggested this exchange," Maj reminded her.
Tyreth scoffed. "That doesn't matter. I fought in the war, remember? I know Cardassians. You can't trust them: Something's up."
"It would seem-" Maj began, but was interrupted by Captain Hughes on Tyreth's combadge.
"Hughes to Tyreth."
Sighing, she tapped her badge. "Tyreth here. What is it, Captain?"
"The staff lunch begins in ten minutes. I hope to see you there."
Tyreth gave another long, exasperated sigh. "I'll be there," she promised.
"Have a good time," Maj said. Tyreth threw him a death glare and stalked out of Ten Forward, jacket slung over one shoulder.