Lt. Elizabeth Kyle sat alone in the officer’s lounge.  It was a quiet night.   Most of the crew were either in bed or on the station enjoying some time away from the ship.  For Elizabeth she had no desire to visit the station, and for some strange and unexplained reason she couldn’t sleep.  So here she was.  Sitting in a bar drinking alone and generally being anti-social.

She sighed staring out the window.  She loved this ship.  It was her first posting as cheif engineer,  and she felt ownership over it.  Like it was her own.  She certainly had seen places that no one else on the crew has seen.

Elizabeth noted the entrance of a familiar face over the top of her glass.  She didn’t know the Klingon woman very well,  but probably better than anyone else on the ship.  Not, that that was saying much, but she hoped there was at least a mutual respect.  Elizabeth definitely respected Q’orvha, and as such resisted her human urge to wave the strategic operations officer over.  If she wanted to visit she would do so on her own accord.

Which, as it turns out, on this occasion, she did. The pale Klingon moved swiftly across the lounge with her steps leaving little sound to register, almost as if she were a ghost, though she broke her silence with an uncharacteristicly loud seething angry sigh as she dropped herself down into the chair across from Elizabeth, tossing the PADD she held onto the table.

”I sincerely hope your day is going better than mine, Leuitenant” Q’orvha growled sourly. “I have need of someone to vent and commiserate with, as my usual outlet for such things went away when the Holodecks got turned off for the EPS realignments on Deck 12.”

“Yeah… sorry about that.   If I didn’t assign someone to it a power surge could blow out all the emitters, and then it would be weeks before I can get them working again.”

”…as acting Captain and Stragetic Operations Officer, I was just cleared via communique on whom will soon be arriving to take over as Commanding Officer of this vessel.” The Klingon explained, only to pause for a moment and then lean forward to speak with more quiet and cautious care. “…and it’s a damn barrel of cold dead pressurized gagH that Command is serving us, just waiting to rot and turn in an explosively hyperthermic reaction…right…in…our…faces.”

Elizabeth blinked at that. Klingons were known for their passion.  Klingons are such drama queens, but this is odd though.   Q’orvha was normally more level headed than this, she thought. “That’s quite the description,” she said out loud. Taking a sip of her synthehol she set her glass down and considered her next words. After a moment she spoke, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, and dumb it down for this simple cowgirl.”

“As you may have surmised from all the ordered repairs and resupplies…” Q’orvha continued, her voice a terse whisper. “…we are about to head into the Romulan refugee territories on a mission of mercy…one could argue this is misguided, especially given the sins of broken promises of Starfleet past…so, Command has put in place what they seem to think will a solution that will…ease…tensions we’ll encounter with the locals.”

“Well, not the most glamorous of assignments,  but it’s a good deed,” Elizabeth replied.  Klingons and Romulans never got along, but she had a feeling that there was more to this.

“Romulans are untrustworthy lot by nature, and that goes both ways…one should be extra wary around them, and their macro-culture tends to produce a heavily cautious and paranoid lot…which, fair enough I say…there is healthy respect to be found in that outlook.” The klingon slid the PADD forward, across the table towards Elizabeth, and activated the display. “So, who better to command such a mission than a fellow Romulan?”

The PADD brought up a Starfleet Personnel file, that started with a profile picture of a middle-aged Romulan woman with a mess of raven hair and a prominent duelling scar across her cheek. In this instance, she wore an older style command-red Starfleet uniform, with the triple pips of a Commander displayed on her collar…though the rank designation below appeared to have been updated to “CAPTAIN”. Alongside the picture was the name: VAELANA i-TERRHA t’KAEYN.

Most of the data that followed however, was blacked out with Starfleet Intelligence censoring.

“Now, this is interesting. Certainly not the call I would have made, and I can see what has set you off.” Unsure of what else to say she frowned.  “I don’t know.”

Q’orvha picked the PADD back up and scrolled down to the service record, which included several public records from the old Romulan Star Empire, as well as some recent Starfleet assignments…but again, there was a substantial amount of censor warnings and even a few decade long gaps. “Do not get me wrong, having a Romulan face for the mission…there is some sense to that…and the Federation’s greatest diplomatic strengths have always laid in the realms of ‘soft power’…By the dark Gates of Gre’thor, missions of mercy and aid were practically what led to the Klingon and Federation alliance for years after both the Praxis and Khitomer disasters.”

The Klingon started to let out an exasperated sigh that shifted into a low quiet growl as it was let out. “This particular Romulan however…Captain Vaelana definitely would have pertinent skills and knowledge for this area and this task…especially once we move beyond the old Neutral Zone and into the gutted husk of the late Star Empire…”

“She would have the necessary knowledge of the area,” she agreed thoughtfully.

“The problem…” Q’orvha explained, once again placing the PADD down. “…is that Vaelana has a reputation in certain circles…and most definitely other baggage besides…and officially, she got her Starfleet posting after defecting from the Imperial Star Navy and spending the post Hobus years as a privateer…how do you expect the Romulans we encounter to react when they find out how the face of our little errand ended up with a red Star Fleet Uniform?”

“That’s the problem isn’t?  We could use a ‘guide’ to act as a liason between the people and relay to us the politics and players but… this Vaelana is a problem.  She hasn’t been in this middle of this mess. She’s been in the Federation so, she’s just as clueless as the rest of us, and then to add a nice little cherry on top she’s a traitor to her people. I wouldn’t respect or trust her if I were one of the Romulans in the area, and I expect you feel the same.  It would be like Duras marching into the Empire commanding a Federation ship trying to ‘just help’. And those redacted parts in her dossier is… uncomfortable.  Granted my cousin Ethan’s looks like that while he was in Starfleet Intelligence.  A result of some ‘damned distasteful work’. His words, not mine.  Vaelana is an unknown quantity. It changed Ethan and Trinity for the worst, but…” She cut herself off realizing she was rambling. “Well, I don’t know if I can trust her either. Spooks are a different breed.”

”Yes…we are.” Q’orvha replied, allowing herself a small quiet chuckle, a brief reprieve from the anxious doom and gloom of the subject matter. “The blacked out parts are actually less of a problem for Romulans…it is said that anyone who has served in the Galae Command- The Romulan Star Navy…for more then a single tour, inevitably acquires some in their dossier…no, the real issue is the reason why there is so much proverbial black ink.”

Q’orvha folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, pausing to choose her next words carefully. When she finally spoke again, her voice had returned to a ghostly hissing whisper.

”Among the, as you say, Spooks, there are a few names that have gotten…notoriety…and it’s never a good sign when that happens within an industry that deals in clandestine secrets and subterfuge.” The Klingon scrolled back up to the top of the displayed dossier and then tapped on the Romulan’s last name. “There is…or was…a Tal Shiar colonel who had a hushed infamy and reputation inside of even the halls of both Starfleet and Imperial Intelligence…not to mention the public persona she held within the Star Empire itself. Storied tales of fringe experimentation, sector wide machinations, destablization of entire planetary systems, and assassinations that would cause even me to blush.

“That Colonel’s name is…D’Kaeyn. The matriarch of Clan Kaeyn…and Vaelana’s mother.”

“I never put much store in the sins of the father troupe, but that is a bit of a… concern.”

”Oh, believe me, I do not place too much stock in the whole concept of ‘sins of the father, passed down unto the son’ that the Empire espouses…“ Q’orvha replied. “…even if it has proven itself as a frustrating accurate memetic over the years…Duras…and Vaelana herself appears to have spent most of her career actively avoiding the usual political machinations that the Tal Shiar swim in…the parts of her career I could uncover, that is…but, the reputation of Clan Kaeyn will precede her in almost any interaction we have once we get into that dead husk of an empire.”

“So…. What should we do?  I am not ready to join in a mutiny.  Perhaps we should give her a chance before we make up our minds.”

”I would never suggest a mutiny…” Q’orvha replied, silently contemplating that a clean assassination and transfer of command down the ship’s stated hierarchy was often more efficient in the long run…at least, on a Klingon ship… ”…and giving her chance seems to be the only option left in lieu of that. So I agree, for the most part…we bide our time, we watch, and we keep what we know now in mind…with any luck, we can catch a disaster before it happens.”

Elizabeth considered her friend for a moment.  She was fairly certain the Klingon was overreacting, but she certainly had a point, and there was cause for concern.   “One thing is certain: this is going to be an interesting tour of duty.”