Chapter 33: Tradecraft
November 2413
“Well, I heard somebody lost the key to the cage!”
“For a month? How long does it take to replicate a new one?”
“It can take as long as you want!”
The boisterous Klingon laughter and banter at her expense gave Kirina some measure of reassurance. Certainly their wild conjectures as to why she hadn’t spent any time in the base’s main hall were more believable than the truth. Ignoring the commentary, the Romulan proceeded to an empty table with her meal. Or at least, that’s what she’d intended.
“Maybe she got tired of listening to the likes of you!”
“Oh-ho, K’Vok, it sounds like you’ve grown protective of your little pet!”
“She is nothing! But a better medic than that spineless lizard you keep in your medical bay!”
More laughter erupted and then a fight broke out – as was so often the result when Klingon warriors were given too much downtime. Punches were thrown, and then people were thrown. Bloodwine splattered and blood flowed. Kirina’s table became a casualty of war, forcing her to relocate.
With all the commotion, no one noticed the recording device placed behind the bartop.
One down, Kirina said to herself as she (mostly) dodged a flying plate of gagh.