“And what are the Klingons bringing to the party?” Dasranika mused through gritted teeth as she tapped the toe of her boot impatiently against the glowing white surface of the transporter pad.

“What do the Klingons offer anyone?” Dane replied, with a calm stillness, a lifetime of waiting on diplomats and their seemingly unending retinues having long ago taught him that fidgeting served nothing. “Blades.”

“The Concord’s technology is mostly on par with the Empire’s. I can’t imagine the Klingons have anything particularly more powerful.” Dasranika’s face turned pale suddenly as a realisation dawned on her. “Cloaking Devices?”

“My colleagues at the Diplomatic Office don’t believe so. And even if they’ve suggested it, I doubt the empire is likely to give away such a strategic asset.”

“But they could have suggested it?”

“Possibly.” Dane chewed his cheek slightly, the brief words he had traded with DS47’s Diplomatic Office were still echoing in his ears. There hadn’t been much time to relay any information, and both sides were working on assumptions and educated guesswork as much as any salient detail. “We believe that they are offering protection. The Concord wishes to expand now the shroud has been lifted; a flight of cloaked Klingon warships would be a powerful escort.”

“We could offer that and more… if we ever manage to get to the negotiating table.” Dasranika threw a furrowed brow towards the officer at the wide control console, who suddenly found themselves very busy running a set of diagnostics. “What are we waiting on?”

“Clearance, ma’am,” the young ensign replied, barely looking up from his screen.

“Maybe we should just beam ourselves over?” Dasranika hissed.

“It’s rude to barge in Millie,” Dale cautioned quietly. “You know they’re just making a point.”

“God help us if everything is going to be like this. I was hoping for something a bit more congenial.”

“From the racist autocracy?” Dane offered a wry twisting of his mouth.

“Now who’s being rude?” she spat.

Dale reached out his hand, grasping her shoulder gently and offering a light squeeze. A small gesture, and one they had agreed many moons ago, would constitute the height of affection whilst on duty.

“I’m sure once they see your winning smile, they’ll be showing the Empire the door.”

The threads of a smile crept onto the corners of Dasranika’s lips, enough to reluctantly drag her sullen frown begrudgingly upwards.

“If we get anywhere, it’ll be because of you’re honeyed words.”

“Bridge to Transporter Room 2. We have received clearance, you may proceed with transport. There is, however, a complication.”

“Don’t tell me, the Tholians have turned up?” Dasranika rolled her eyes ominously.

“Not quite, Captain. There is, however, now a Mogai class warbird on station.” T’Sunk’s measured voice announced across the comm channel like he was reporting a small rain shower.

“A warbird?” Dasranika’s stomach twitched. The Klingons were one thing, but contending with the Free State was another thing entirely.

“How did the Tal’Shiar get here?” She turned to Dane, who offered a confused shrug in reply.

“The vessel is not from the Romulan Free State.” T’Sunik replied with more frustration than his father back on Vulcan would have approved of. “The vessel is broadcasting a Republic ident.”

Dale could feel Dasranika’s nerves wriggle with frustration at the surprise addition.

“What are they playing at?” She mumbled, “Are they here as a separate party?”

“They are an interstellar government in their own right, perhaps we were foolish for not expecting them to take an interest in a literal gold mine.” Dane shifted slightly, moving his weight off his aching right knee. “We could ask Shaenor to do some digging?”

The most recent addition to the squadron, the Republic surveyor Shaenor, was still on the far side of the expanse, operating near the relative safety of the gateway. Nowhere near close enough to be of any practical help. Still, even a slight insight into the Republic’s plans with the Concord might be fruitful later.

“T’Sunik, contact Commander Harasu, see if he can get us any insight as to the Republic’s game plan,” Dasranika announced to the disembodied voice of her XO.

“I will report any useful information.”

“Can we go now?” Dane offered her a weary smile as he shuffled once again to alleviate the now aching right knee.

“Everything alright?”

“Just the old Jenokan injury playing up, old man and all that.  I’ll still be in fine fettle for dancing after dinner.” Dane smirked, a decidedly young twinkle hovering in his eye.

“Alright then, let’s join the party,” she sighed and offered a nod to the ensign, who, with a wave of his fingers, sent their atoms cascading across space.