Intel Confab

Posted on Fri May 29th, 2026 @ 6:48pm by Captain Shran dh'Klar & Lieutenant JG Kate Kono

2,413 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Sins of the Empire
Location: Captain's Ready Room

The meeting in the conference room had ended only a few minutes ago, and most of the participants had spilled out onto the bridge. Before Kate could leave Shran called for her, "Lt Kono, a moment please. In my Ready Room." He looked to Deanna and motioned for her to follow.

The Andorian made his way out onto the bridge with the Betazoid only a couple steps behind him as he made his way to the Ready Room. "Jon, you have the bridge" he said in his usual authoritative tone.

Inside his office, he waited for Kate to enter, his icy gaze on the doorway.

Kate slowed her pace almost imperceptibly as she turned to glance at Deanna, reading her expression for anything; a flicker of reassurance, a warning, before continuing across the bridge toward Shran's ready room. The door at the far end felt miles away. She had the distinct, hollow feeling of a contractor being walked to HR, Deanna's presence at her shoulder less like company and more like an escort. The past few weeks had been a cascade of things Shran might have weighed very differently than she had: the loss of an Intelligence Officer, the unmasking of a Section-31 assassin now recovering in a Federation hospital, the firefight at the outpost after Kevin broke loose from the Holodeck and Gina Jaye came to finish him. Kate's strategy had been sound. It had been Section-31 that unraveled it. But she wasn't sure how much of that distinction would matter once she was standing on the other side of that door—or whether Shran would see it as her failure all the same.

Within Starfleet, there were departments that operated in clean, finite terms; orders issued, outcomes measured, no room for the grey. Intelligence was not one of them. She had wondered more than once whether Q had placed her here deliberately, in the unit where a single misjudgment of character could unravel an entire operation, where the weight of perception bore down on every decision like a hand pressed against the back of her neck.

The department fed situational awareness to the captains and crews who depended on it, yes. But it consumed its own in the process. Reputations dissolved quietly, careers folded without ceremony, all subordinated to the final word of leaders who would never have to answer for the cost.

And the cost this time had been considerable. A person was dead; Kevin, a man Kate considered a friend for well over a year: gone by her hands. That could not be walked back. For Ensign Gina Jaye, her career had been gutted by a section that half the fleet believed had no business existing in the first place. Kate turned it over in her mind the way a tongue finds a sore tooth: had she done right? The curtain had been pulled back. The light that came through was not flattering. There were those who would call it necessary, who would commend her for it. There were others who would hold her responsible for every shadow the light exposed. She did not yet know which verdict was coming for her, only that it was coming.

The irony, of course, was that this meeting might not even be about any of it. Of all the adversaries an Intelligence Officer could face across the known galaxy, the Romulan Intelligence Network stood at the apex, a vast and shadowy apparatus of spies and assassins whose reach extended into the farthest corners of civilization. Cardassian Intelligence ran a close second, the cold precision of the Obsidian Order inspiring in Kate a mixture of dread and reluctant admiration. She was grateful, at least, that it was not the Obsidian Order at her doorstep. The Tal Shiar was fearsome enough on its own, an organization that toppled governments the way other people moved furniture. That was exactly what someone was attempting here, and Kate understood with a sinking certainty that her department would bear the full crushing weight of it during their unsanctioned mission.

She had not been briefed. Deanna walked beside her as they entered Shran's ready room, and Kate let the door close behind them like a held breath finally released. She had learned long ago that anticipation was a liability, that the mind that braced for impact was the mind that shattered on contact. So she kept herself empty, a dark vessel, and let the room fill her instead: the low light, the faint antiseptic bite of recycled air, the particular silence of a superior who had not yet chosen his words. She waited, still as deep water, watching Shran's face for the shape of what was coming.

Deanna stood behind Kate for a few moments, a slight grin on her face. The apex of Betazoid ability, Deanna had chosen to join StarFleet because she did not wish to be what her people would demand of her. The freedom she sought was quickly curtailed in the Academy, but she regained that long-sought freedom when she met Shran as those long years ago. He recruited her, trained her, mentored and befriended her, and had on more than one occasion saved her life, though she could say that she had repaid that gesture a few times as well. She had a bond with Shran, something that am Ojnas friend named Sachzny had once described as akin to their familial bonds. She sent a very simple telepathic message to Shran.

Shran for his part turned away, not wishing to let Kate see his amusement at what Deanna had gleaned. He restored his composure and turned to look at the young Human, "I am aware you think I have called you here about all that Section 31 matter, but I am unconcerned with it. I am a little amused by your thoughts on the Tal Shiar and Obsidian Order, especially since the Obsidian Order hasn't existed in nearly a decade, and the Tal Shiar is most certainly a group we'll be encountering in the coming days."

The Andorian made his way to his desk and sat. "Tell me lieutenant, what do you know of the Duras family and their ties to the Romulans."

Kate’s gaze drifted downward to the pale gray carpet beneath her boots, its short fibers matted into an unending sea of color that absorbed the muted overhead lights. She raised one heel and tapped its fibrous weave with the tip of her black leather shoe, coaxing a hollow, reverberating thump from the padded floor. “I know a little, I guess,” she began, her voice sliding out soft and low, its concern woven through each syllable. “The House of Duras isn’t just another Klingon noble line; it’s the Empire’s primo example of corruption and treachery. From the start they’ve placed personal power above all else, and decades ago they forged a covert alliance with our allies’ enemies, the Romulans, plotting to seize the High Council from within.”

She glanced sideways at Shran, eyes unreadable beneath his sharply arched brow. When he gave a subtle nod, she felt a flicker of relief. Sliding onto the nearest chair, she felt its cool metal frame against her slender build through the thin fabric of her uniform. Unfazed, she folded one leg over the other and leaned forward, ready to unravel every sordid thread she’d uncovered.

“It all began in 2346 with Ja’rod, the family patriarch. While posted at Khitomer, he betrayed his own people by slipping the defensive shield codes to the Romulan fleet. That night the Romulans struck without warning: the Massacre of Khitomer; leaving over four thousand Klingon colonists slaughtered in their own homes. Ja’rod fell in battle, but the High Council buried the truth. Rather than admit the betrayal, they blamed Mogh, Worf’s father, to avoid tearing the Empire apart in civil war.”

Kate tilted her head, eyes rolling upward as if charting the date across an invisible holosheet. She tapped a slender stylus against her palm; the thin metal rod spun like a dancer’s baton between her fingers. “Twenty years later, his son Duras took up the mantle of treachery. In 2366, Worf uncovered evidence linking Duras to Khitomer, but Duras lied through his teeth, accusing Mogh instead. Worf, bound by honor, accepted discommendation rather than see the Klingon Empire split apart. Meanwhile, Duras scrubbed every hint of his family’s past from the archives, securing his place on the High Council.”

The little stylus flicked through the air as she spoke, a silent metronome marking out her memories. “Then in ’67, that jerk just wouldn’t quit. This time with a hidden Romulan molecular decay bomb that crippled several council members in a bid to eliminate his political rivals. After that, Ambassador K’Ehleyr discovered his secrets and ended up stabbed dead in her own quarters. Worf tracked Duras to his private vessel and challenged him to a blade duel. They fought, and Worf screwed him up before Starfleet could intervene.”

Kate rose, half-walking toward the replicator at the far wall. The unit hummed with energy as she approached, its light shifting from pale blue to a deeper teal. She tapped a sequence on the control panel and watched the chamber spin into focus. A glass of crystalline water materialized in her palm. She squinted back at Shran for silent permission—or perhaps kinship—then raised the glass to her lips. The cold liquid slid down her throat, steadying a tremor in her hand from being put on the spot.

She returned to her seat, setting the glass on the low table beside her. “After Duras fell, his sisters Lursa and B’Etor seized the family banner. By late ’67 they ignited open civil war, backing Duras’s illegitimate son Toral for Chancellor instead of Gowron. Romulan convoys slipped through cloaked corridors, bringing weapons and supplies at the same time all this was happening. For months it looked like they might succeed. That is, until Captain Picard deployed a Federation tachyon detection grid. Those hidden shipments lit up, their routes were revealed instantly. By early ’68, the Lursa and B’Etor’s coup collapsed beneath the revelation of all their crap.”

Kate dipped the stylus into her water, spinning it until a tiny vortex formed in the glass. She lifted it free, droplets of water clinging to the metal as she spoke again, her tone steady, assured. “Toral himself survived the purge because Worf spared him despite the boy’s lineage. But years later on Deep Space Nine, Toral tried to reclaim his family’ s honor by stealing the Sword of Kahless. That didn’t go so well. Then in 2371, the Duras sisters, desperate for fresh allies, teamed up with Dr. Tolian Soran. They rigged a hidden Romulan transmitter to spy on the Enterprise-D’s shields. But Starfleet caught on. Worf delivered an ionic pulse that forced their cloaking device to drop, exposing their unshielded hull. The Enterprise unleashed a perfect volley of photon torpedoes. Lursa and B’Etor’s ship was destroyed when them on it but sadly they delivered a blow to the Enterprise D that the ship just couldn’t come back from.”

She paused, her dark eyes shadowed by the weight of centuries of treachery. “From Ja’rod’s first act of betrayal to Duras’s conspiracies, the sisters’ deadly civil war, Toral’s frackups, and their final stand beside Soran, the Duras legacy is betrayal distilled to its purest form. They’ll sacrifice their own blood to gain power, and the Romulans pull their strings every step of the way, hoping to fracture the Federation-Klingon alliance.”

Kate exhaled slowly, sinking back into the chair as though the room’s gravity had suddenly grown heavier. She let her arms drift out to either side, wrists going limp, chin tipping upward toward the ceiling panels. She held the pose for a beat longer than was strictly necessary.

“That’s everything I know.” She shrugged. "I know it's not much but —I do what I can..."

Deanna chuckled. "She'd have enjoyed working Tolan."

Shran offered a grin. "Indeed. She is quite a bit like him." Shran shifted his gaze back to Kate, "Since you are aware of much of the history, I will simply inform you that I have a personal history with these people. I befriended Worf when he was still an officer under the command of Sisko on DS9. I later met Ba'el through Worf and was explained her situation, something I will not go into detail about. We won't just be dealing with Romulans; we will be dealing with the Tal Shiar. That is who in the Romulan government supports the Duras family. I fully expect the Tal Shiar forces to be commanded by Commander Sela, a thoroughly despicable Romulan, and quite cunning in her own right. You and your department will be put to work, and I don't want another Section 31 situation. I'll be speaking with Cmdr Smith to ensure his team is prepared for this conflict as well. I want you to get with Aidan and prepare both runabouts for potential combat assignments."

Kate took a deep breath and walked to the replicator to recycle her glass of water before turning around and straightening her uniform.

"Captain, anything that touches the Duras name eventually enters the record books." Kate looked between Deanna and Shran, letting the silence hold for a moment. "It's an honor to stand on the same page as the good men that do. But nobody walks away from this family clean. Not even the Enterprise. I know we’re making the right call, regardless of the price." She paused. "I wanted you both to know that—in case I don't get the chance to say it later."

She had used up more than her share of close calls. The Section 31 incident alone should have finished her; if Ben and AJ hadn't been there, she'd be the one getting the eulogy instead of the briefing. Luck had carried her this far, but she knew better than to keep borrowing against it. Sooner or later, the debt would come due unless she converted all it into experience and caution.

"Honored to be part of the epic ass-kicking," Kate said, already pushing back her chair. "Give me twenty minutes to loop in my team."

"Appreciate the enthusiasm but stay focused. Conflicts with the Tal Shiar and the Klingons rarely are clean" Shran replied. "You seem properly briefed. Dismissed lieutenant."

 

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