（外文电子版资料）Star Trek - VOY - 019 - Dark Matters 01 - Cloak and Dagger - Christie Golden.docVIP

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（外文电子版资料）Star Trek - VOY - 019 - Dark Matters 01 - Cloak and Dagger - Christie Golden.doc

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Star Trek Voyager #19 Dark Matters: Book One of Three: Cloak and Dagger by Christie Golden PROLOGUE TRAMP. TRAMP. TRAMP. TRAMP. The echoing sound of booted feet striding in unison on the smooth stone floor of the Senate chamber was a familiar one to Jekri Kaleh. She could not count the number of times she had entered this room to stand before the gathered Senate, and occasionally, as was the case today, even in the presence of the Empress herself. Sometimes Jekri had entered in triumph, more rarely in shame. But always, the Romulan head of the Tal Shiar came with her head held high and her bright silver eyes gleaming. Today, her heart pounded with excitement in her abdomen, though her face was nearly Vulcan-like in its lack of expression. It was not becoming for the head of the Tal Shiar to gloat. Tramp. Tramp. Tramp-tramp. Tramp. Inwardly, Jekri frowned. Their honored guest, the reason for the assembly, was out of step. Such things bothered her, but there was no help for it. And besides, if what her guts were telling her was true, the ambassador could do skip-and-turns all over the hall and no one would mind. With perfect timing—except, of course, for the ambassador—the honor guard Jekri led came to a halt before their Empress, the Senate and Proconsul, and the Praetor. The Senate chamber was a rainbow of pageantry and old opulence. The heavy stone trapped coolness here, despite all attempts at wanning the place during the winter months. The acoustics were perfect. Not a whisper went unnoticed. The huge traditional banners of every important Romulan hfihar—noble house—hung from the high stone ceiling. No disruptors or other energy weapons were permitted. Only ancient weapons could pass the scrutiny of the unsmiling guards at the entrance to the long hall. Here was welcomed the sharpened blade of the sword, the heavy stone of a club stained dark green with blood spilled centuries before, the slim, elegant lines of the dagger—the kaleh, from which Jekri Baseborn had