“Tell me, Commander,” HoD Kragor opened, skewering a large meaty flank as he looked at the Romulan far too young for the insignia on her collar. “What brings you to this table?” Age did not make wisdom, he knew, but for such youth to be here said she mattered to someone, and that made him curious.
“An invitation,” Vilo Kendris responded with a sweet smile. “Curiosity, too.” Whereas the Klingon around were dipping into their meals, Vilo, like many of the Romulans, was far more restrained. A knife and fork, careful cuts, gentle pulls with the fork when needed. To her credit though, she hadn’t shied away from a rather experimental plate with a mix of culinary experiences before her. “Though I suspect that wasn’t the heart of the question, now was it?”
“An invitation allows you to sit at the table, but it does not bring you to it,” HoD Kragor noted. “Only your intentions do that.” Each had their reasons for being here, and he wanted to know hers… or at least what she would claim them to be, for one could never fully trust her kind.
“Before the secondment program became reality, I participated in an officer exchange program, serving aboard the Atlantis briefly before assuming my own command within the Republic Navy. Naturally, that placed me well for secondment when Terix had finished working up. That, and I had pushed for the assignment.” Vilo’s knife had been precise in cutting up meat on her plate with smooth, straight cuts, even through the toughest of meats. “When the invitation for dinner was presented, I was naturally intrigued to come and gauge the quality of our companions, one and all.”
“An officer exchange…” HoD Kragor considered the idea for a moment. “An exchange presumes bilateral benefit so what was it they exchanged for you?”
“An Efrosian, chained to a wall,” Kendris joked with a deadpan tone and a wry smile, drawing a light smirk from the Klingon captain. “Truthfully, some young, up and coming officer who spent six months under my former commanding officer. Never met them, but we’ve exchanged correspondence. A chance to share knowledge and ways of working, yes?”
Or a way to study them, HoD Kragon thought to himself before glancing over in the direction of Ambassador Drake. “And what have you learned so far in your time among them?”
“That some of them have truly abysmal tastes in music,” Kendris said as she finally speared a piece of targ onto her plate, dipping it gently in sauce before inspecting it. “That others are such gossips that they would wind the Tal Shiar, Obsidian Order and Klingon Intelligence in circles because they like to stir chaos. They have some of the sharpest minds in the galaxy, exploring for no other reason than because they’re curious, and far too many of them have the determination of character worthy of Klingon song.” The fork was raised, held short of Kendris’ mouth. “And you, HoD Kragor? What brings you here? What have you learned from the Federation, besides roast targ pairs well with balsamic vinegar glaze?”
“Starfleet and I, we have a… common interest,” HoD Kragor explained. “The matters of the borderlands are matters to us both, and blades that move as one are more effective than those that don’t.” He glanced over at the old ambassador once more. “I invited myself to this table, and Drake was not fool enough to rebuff me.”
“I see,” Kendris responded slowly, contemplating what next on her plate to pick at. “And how would you consider tonight’s festivities so far, HoD Kragor?” Kendris’ pronunciation, without the aid of the universal translator, was spot on. Well practised, but slightly clipped. “To your liking?”
“I would say it has been of benefit to both so far, this table and the secondment both,” HoD Kragor shared as he finished off the last flank on his plate and then dove headlong into a pair of Romulan mollusks. “Take Anglesia, a disaster of Starfleet’s own making, but what if it had fallen? What if we had not assisted? A shift in the balance of trade… another refugee crisis… I rather like the dynamics as they stand, and I’d rather not have…” He looked straight at her as he eviscerated a pulpy mollusk, considering how the loss of Romulus had rippled across the quadrant. “Even more troublesome migrants fumbling about.”
“Yes, a situation that could likely be improved.” She had been about to say something else, but had hesitated and then decided against it. “Perhaps, through this secondment program, we’ll all be able to see that we’re not too dissimilar, yes? And with understanding, perhaps more able to understand the plight of fellow sentients and less likely to take… balance-disrupting actions?”
“We are each our own,” HoD Kragor replied. He was not one to believe they would all ever see eye to eye, that somehow they were all that similar. Not on all things, at least. But they didn’t need to be either. “But I am in favor of less balance-disrupting actions.” His eyes drifted to his own, the other HoDs and their staff ringed around the table. His people were not without their factions, those who would rather thump their chests to prove their valor, and they were as much a threat to his empire as any threat beyond its borders. “And on that, I suppose we agree?”
“I suppose we do,” Kendris nodded as she idly continued working at her plate. It was theatre to appear busy, engaged, while avoiding eating too much. “The challenge then is turning agreement and intent into action moving forward, yes?”
But for HoD Kragor, action had never really been his problem.
