StarSword: This is my second collaboration with another author, this time my forum buddy and fellow Janeway-hater worffan101. He's got three different recurring crews, two of them "ragtag bunch of misfits" types, and this one stars the ragtaggiest of them all. The leader, a Romulan by the name of D'trel ir'Aehallhah tr'Rihannsu, born an orphan and chewed up and spat out by the system, then joined the Unificationists and fell in love only to have the group brutally destroyed and her lover raped to death by a Tal'Shiar unit under Hakeev. Yes, THAT Hakeev.

She escaped Romulus by enlisting aboard a T'liss-class warbird and after decades under a variety of pseudonyms ended up on Virinat. You can guess what happened after that. After "A Day on the Farm" she forms a motley command crew with a Jem'Hadar First who attributes religious maxims to Odo, an indeterminately gendered alien, a flamboyantly gay Lethean engineer who doubles as her therapist, and a wide-eyed Ferasan noob. Heavily medicated for depression and prone to homicidal rages at the mere mention of the Tal'Shiar, D'trel is nonetheless extremely good at her job.

And here she works alongside the career military Morgaiah t'Thavrau. We've been trying to work up a crossover between the two crews for months, and with the prompt for this piece, "Broken Threads", we decided to put D'trel out of her depth and have her and Morgan close off the dangling plotline of what, exactly, became of the remnant of the Romulan Star Empire. Enjoy.


Saith Daehpahr hrrafv Llaiirevha

The two women were sitting quietly before the closed double doors, one twiddling her thumbs and the other at bored rest, sipping from a thermos of tea.

Suddenly there was an explosion of shouts and insults in High Rihan on the other side of the door, which slammed open abruptly. Four Rihannsu in formal robes stormed out with their Tal'Diann bodyguards close on their heels, followed closely by Velal tr'Hrienteh, Fvillhu of the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan, and two armored Khhiu'draao s'Shiar commandos. They vanished around the corners at opposite ends of the hall and doors slammed shut moments later.

Then the door opened again and a tanned Terrhaha in Lloannen'galae dress whites, ops colors, stepped out of the conference room muttering something that the women on the bench couldn't make out. "Commander Khoroushi," said one of the women, taller, with long obsidian hair turning silver at the temples. "What happened?"

"Well, apparently we said hello, insulted each other, and broke for recess."

The other woman, a wiry brunette with cropped brown hair, snorted at that. "Can't say it's unexpected," she said. "Imperials always have had issues with putting people in good places. What are they upset about, colony worlds in Psi Velorum?"

"Admiral," warned a dark-skinned Letheha lurking to the woman's left. "Calm. Remember what we discussed?"

"Yes," groused the Admiral. "I remember. Peace treaty. Could end the stupid fighting that's still interfering with shipping near the Imperial border. Very important to D'tan. Don't mess it up. I'm not messing it up, it sounds like those chattermouths are doing a good job of it already."

"It would be wise to allow the Human to finish," rumbled a massive Jem'Hadar, standing like a grey-scaled mountain behind the brunette. "For doth not the Thirteenth Word of Odo'Ital state that 'Information is key to any endeavour'?"

"Thank you, Omek'ti'kallan, but I was finished," Jaleh Khoroushi said, absentmindedly tugging at her collar. "Honestly, I would've expected Praetor Velal to be more accommodating. I mean, this was his idea."

"Maybe it's the negotiators," suggested the Letheha. "Put High Admiral D'trel in a room with your usual babbling diplomats and she'll lose her patience faster than a night-talon loses its prey in the daylight."

"You mean like that Bah'jorha at Khre'Riov Tuvok's conference in January?"

"The one that made people actually forget about what Quinn's psychotic dog said about the Proconsul?" asked the brunette. "Yeah. That makes sense. Khre'Riov Morgaiah, none of those diplomats have any military experience. I served under Velal during the Dominion War—distant command, as in our ship was the cannon fodder of the task force—and he always seemed like a good soldier to me…"

"I agree," said the taller woman. "I will speak with D'tan and Deihu t'Hei. We may have better luck if we negotiate personally."

"Good idea. Daysnur, Omek, you're my aides, I'm an ambassador for the day. We'll do it like we did the meeting with Obisek. Plus we've got Morgaiah as backup in case I screw up—her record is second to none. How the Ariennye did I get into this, anyway? I'm a soldier, not a diplomat!"


Five days earlier…

Rahaen'Enriov D'trel ir'Aehallah tr'Rihannsu, fresh from a promotion ceremony and a lengthy psychotherapy session, strode briskly through the corridors of Raenasa, Daysnur and First Omek'ti'kallan keeping pace behind her.

The petite, wiry woman wore her usual tight expression, the lines on her middle-aged face forming a slight frown. She felt the light itch in her brain that was Daysnur monitoring her to ensure that her new, lower dose of medication was working properly.

D'trel approached Proconsul D'tan's massive office doors—finely carved Terrhain mahogany, considerably fancier than the adapted warbird interior the top officials had been using—and knocked sharply.

"Enter!"

"Proconsul," said D'trel with a crisp salute as she entered. "My apologies for being late, I was taking the Kholhr on a quick test drive to ensure that the modified frame really can take the new armaments. What is the situation?"

"Peace," said D'tan grandly. "Peace with the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan at last!"

"I'll believe that when I see it," scoffed D'trel, taking a seat as Daysnur lurked behind her left shoulder, Omek looming to her right. "Ah, Khre'Riov Morgaiah ir'Sheratan," she said, seeing the other woman already seated. "I am honored to meet you at last. May I introduce First Omek'ti'kallan, my first officer, and Enarrain Daysnur, KDF exchange officer, my therapist and associate chief engineer."

"Jolan'tru," Morgan t'Thavrau greeted her. She gestured to the two figures behind her, one a stocky, ruddy-skinned man with a scar under his eye, the other a Terrhaha woman in Lloannen'galae service blacks. "Riov Sarsachen i'Amriel, my ih'hwi'saehne, and Lieutenant Commander Jaleh Khoroushi, my Starfleet liaison."

"Not for this mission, rekkhai," the commander said, shaking her head. "Can I offer you some tea, Enriov? Or something stronger?" she asked D'trel, pouring a measure of ale for herself.

"I thought you were a Muslim, Enarrain Khoroushi," said the Proconsul.

"I am, but I gave up trying to keep halāl on deployment years ago, lhhai."

"Well, thank you for the offer," D'trel answered. "I'd like some—"

"Tea," said Daysnur firmly. D'trel swiveled and glared at him, but he didn't so much as flinch. "Sir, you know my policy on new medication regimens. I need a good clear reading on how you're handling the lower dose."

"Fine," grunted the brunette. "If you've got tea, that'd be great. Just plain tea, nothing added. If anyone needs something to eat, I can call Zel for some jumbo mollusks. So. What's the plan?"

Khre'Enriov Klau tr'Kererek spoke up now, passing out PDAs to the women. "Fvillhu Velal has contacted us with a request to meet for negotiations. He says that he wishes to end the ongoing war and recognize Kreh'dhhokh mol'Rihan as an independent nation. Proconsul D'tan values this potential for peace very highly, and so we are sending our two best commanders with their ships as escorts for our delegation."

"Latest intelligence from our undercovers says that Velal's managed to restore something resembling order in the Shiar core worlds," Sarsachen added. "However, a number of planets, including my homeworld Kevratas, declared independence in protest after we broke the news about Hobus last year, and the Tal'Shiar have completely gone off the reservation. Source CARDINAL even reports a skirmish in the Abraxas system between Tal'Shiar vessels and the regular Galae s'Shiar Rihan under Khre'Enriov t'Shelyarin."

D'trel leaned forwards intently at that. "Really, now? Given what we saw in Hakeev's facilities and in Hveid-kustais, I can't say that I'm surprised."

"Honestly I'm more surprised it took this long," Morgan remarked in a dry tone. "When I was in the Galae they were the enemy almost as much as the Khe'lloann'mnhehorael or the Lloannen'galae."

"We had a commissar with them on the Ravon once," reminisced D'trel as Khoroushi handed her a mug of tea. "The Riov airlocked him and took his gear, sent fake reports. It must've fooled someone, and I don't think we were seen as important enough to target."

D'tan started at that, but Morgan hid an amused grin behind a mug of tea and tr'Kererek nodded in approval. "Sounds like an efficient man. Now, as you can see in your briefing materials, this meeting will be taking place at Khitomer. I had to pull in a favor with Councilman Kriton, but the Klling'hannsu are willing to host the negotiations. The other option was having the Federation host the negotiations on Turkana IV"—Daysnur jerked in surprise and Khoroushi said something rude about Ambassador Sugihara in Farsi—"so we're going with the Klling'hannsu."

"I'll need two Mogai-class and a D'ridthau-class with six Dhelan-class escorts to secure the perimeter," said D'trel, looking over the materials. "Get me… Nei'rrh, Hatham, Flaihhsam s'ch'Rihan, and whatever escorts you can sling together. My ship hits like a boosted Ghorrnha, but it doesn't have the durability to face off a large fleet in the event this goes south. Morgaiah, you concur?"

"Yes," said Morgan with a nod. "I would suggest the Eyiv s'Rea and the Temer as well, Khre'Enriov. Aen'rhien will coordinate the escorts. Kholhr can use the battleship and cruisers to flank, should such be necessary."

"Sounds good to me. The Klling'hannsu will probably have a fleet on standby just in case, too."

"Velal also requested a neutral moderator be present, preferably from the Federation," Khoroushi added. "State Department decided to have me do that, since I'll already be there. However, that means I'm going to have to be impartial during the talks. And the other side's going to expect me to favor the Khre'dhhokh Mol'Rihan given my usual job, so I may need to come down harder on your people than I would otherwise. Can you live with that, rekkhai?" Morgan nodded reluctantly.

D'tan leaned forward with a rustle of robes. "Before you leave, I cannot stress strongly enough how much we need this peace. Our border war with the Empire has become a battle of attrition, and thanks to the Tal'Shiar and Tholinsu we still need outside help keeping our homeworld secure. We have been taking a greater role in galactic affairs recently, but Khre'Enriov tr'Kererek has assured me that we cannot maintain the current pace with so many conflicts ongoing. This is not just a peace deal on one front; this is an investment in the security of our nation. Go with my prayers, and be successful for ch'Mol'Rihan."

The two commanders stood. "Bedah, Ehkifv Temjahaere D'Tan," Morgan said in High Rihan, bowing formally. She executed a proper military turn and left the office with her officers trailing behind.

"Jolan'tru, Ehkifv," said D'trel brusquely. "First, Enarrain, with me." She left at a brisk walk, the hulking Jem'Hadar and dark-scaled Lethean following.


"This will not end well," said D'trel, striding into her ready room and slamming the PDA on her desk. She stuck her head back out the door and yelled to her Breen helmsman. ""Hey, Zel! Get us moving, pick up the fancy-pants diplomats if t'Thavrau hasn't already done it, and point us towards Khitomer!"

"Admiral, isn't this what you wanted?" asked Daysnur. "Peace? Better shot at Unification?"

"Yeah!" said Min'tak'allan from the open door, his tail flicking excitedly. "We could bring them in on our side against the filthy, fangless qameH quv!""

"Science Bekk Min'tak'allan, it would be wise to exercise some caution in this enterprise," said First Omek'ti'kallan. "For doth not the Twenty-Ninth Word of Odo'Ital say 'The enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy—no more, no less.'?"

"I don't cut deals with my enemies, Daysnur," said D'trel as the young Ferasan nodded thoughtfully. "I trust the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan about as far as I can throw it, and while Morgaiah t'Thavrau is one of our top battlecruiser commanders, we've got a team from the civil corps as our negotiators, and you and I both know that they can flub a simple gift exchange. No, this is not going to end well. You know our luck: even if Velal's serious, SOMEthing will inevitably happen to screw things up."

"Admiral. Fatalism. Remember what we talked about?"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled D'trel. "Got to look on the bright side. Well, on the bright side, there is in fact a non-zero chance that this mission will not fail."

"I recommend giving this mission your all, Admiral," rumbled Omek'ti'kallan. "For doth not the Seventeenth Word of Odo'Ital say 'You can't know that you can't do something until you've given it your very best effort.'?"

"Point, that," remarked D'trel. "Right. Daysnur, head back to your man, and Omek, take the bridge. I need to think."

She motioned for them to leave. Omek did so, pulling the Ferasan with him. Daysnur lingered at the door for a moment, opened his mouth, paused, shook his head, and left.

The door shut, leaving D'trel to sit in her chair and stare silently at the wall.


Morgan linked her wrist communicator into the Aen'rhien's intercom as she, two deihuir, and their aides and staff materialized on the transporter pad. "All hands, all hands! Prepare to get underway! Set course for the Khitomer system! Senior staff briefing, ten minutes!" She turned to Deihu Hannam t'Hei, and in a deferential tone told her, "Llhei, I will show you to our VIP quarters. This way."

"How long will it take to reach Khitomer, Khre'Riov?"

"Four days, five hours, as the mogai flies."

The deihu was singularly unimpressed with the accommodations. "Is there nothing bigger?"

"Deihu khlinae'eri, this is a combat starship, not a luxury liner. Even my own quarters are far smaller than this, and the enlisted bunk in shifts."

The other woman shuddered and said, "I suppose it will have to do."

"Bedah, Deihuir t'Hei and tr'AAnikh." Morgan bowed and left them to do whatever it was that deihuir did. "Civilians," she muttered to herself as she stalked towards the turbolift to the command deck, nameless crew standing aside for her.

In the wardroom all seven members of Morgan's command staff sat waiting. They came to their feet as she came into the room. "As you were." She poured a glass of ale and sat. "You all know the basics, but let us set some ground rules. Item the first, nobody on this crew is to pick a fight with any Shiar personnel. I don't care if they say your mother was a fvai and your father smelled of eigen berries, you will not throw the first punch. That goes for you especially, Veril." The slim Havranha grunted something belligerent and Morgan took an apologetic tone. "I'm singling you out because they'll single you out. You are Havran, and I don't need to remind you what that means. But the ekhiv temjahaere informs me that getting an armistice is critical to our national security, and that means our conduct is critical to our national security. If somebody fucks this up, this warbird will not be responsible.

"Next, a personal warning for you, Arrain t'Khnialmnae." The small, dark auburn-haired woman shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Do not ever mention your… prior affiliations in Rahaen'Enriov D'trel's hearing."

"I was a gunnery officer!"

"You were Tal'Shiar."

"I never—"

"I know. But D'trel does not, and if she finds out, you may not have time to explain."

Sahuel t'Khnialmnae stood and faced the wall. Presently she quietly said, "I believed I was doing what was right for our people. Keeping order."

"You were on a ship that was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of refugees," Emira t'Vraehn said. "This ship!"

"Doctor!" Morgan cried warningly.

"That was an accident!" By now the redhead's eyes glistened with tears. "And I wasn't even on duty!"

"It's not about you personally, Sahuel," Jaleh told her. "D'trel's lover, among many others she knew, was tortured to death by Colonel Hakeev's secret police unit. She won't see the difference between you and him."

"All we can do is hope that your defection with the Aen'rhien and our subsequent actions will be enough to cleanse the stain on its name," Sarsachen added.

Morgan stood and placed a hand on her tactical officer's shoulder. "I have forgiven you, Sahuel i'Tlhira. If that is not enough, then help me win peace for our people."

"I'm with you, as always, Khre'Riov."

"Good." She turned back to the table. "Back to business. Tr'Khev, your intelligence assessment?"

"Velal's desperate, or else he wouldn't have approached us. According to my contacts and our official sources, he managed to get the Deihuit and the core worlds to back him after rh'Rhiyrh Sela disappeared at Brea, but he's short of everything but hot air. He needs peace at least as much as we do."

"What about Velal personally? Anything we can use?"

"My father was an aide-de-camp for him during the Dominion War. He's a pragmatist, doesn't waste people if he can help it. But he's also a patriot."

Morgan let out a breath. "That could be a problem. All right, keep your ear to the ground and coordinate with the Klivam security forces. You find anything you think I should know, tell me immediately, night or day."

"Ie, rekkhai."

"Braeg, I'm going to need you to act as my aide. You were in the Galae ih'Shiar more recently than I was. You may pick things up that I don't."

"Ie, Khre'Riov," her science chief agreed.

"Any questions? No? Then man your stations. And may the Elements be with us."

Four Rihannsu, one Havranha, and one Lloannen'galae officer stood and made their way out of the room, but the battle-scarred ih'hwi'saenhe stayed behind. "I've never seen you in quite this mood before, rekkhai," Sarsachen tr'Sauringar commented. "Not since Erei'Riov tr'Sevron died. You're actually smiling."

"Peace, Sarsachen. If this works out, I am one step closer to my quiet vineyard on Virinat."

"And if it doesn't?"

Her smile faded and she gave him a hard look. "Then we do our duty, and hope the Elements grant us better fortune tomorrow."


"Incoming vessels, identify yourselves and state your business," the voice on the communicator stated.

"Khitomer Control," the communications officer answered in Federation Standard, "this is Imperial Warbird Lost Road, and escorts. You do not have clearance for our business."

"I say again, IRW Lost Road, state your business or the orbital defense grid will fire on your ship, romuluSngan."

A lean, muscled Rihanha in formal robes sitting at the back of the bridge said, "Khitomer Control, this is Praetor Velal tr'Hrienteh of the Rihannsu Star Empire. If you wish, you may contact Governor Leskit's office for the information for which you are cleared, but rest assured our mission here is peaceful."

"Why should we believe you?"

"If our intent was otherwise, we would not be having this discussion and a third of this planet's population would already be dead, Klivam."

There was a pause. "Are you threatening me, petaQ?"

"No, I am stating a simple fact. It is also a fact that our presence here was approved by the High Council, which you would know by now, had you bothered to check with the governor. Now stop wasting my time and direct us to a parking orbit before I contact him for you and inform him of your rudeness and abject incompetence."

"Fvillhu!" the sensor officer suddenly interjected. "I have a D'deridex-class warbird decloaking one light-minute out! Galae s'Kreh'dhhokh Mol'Rihan!"

Then another voice, female, a melodic mezzo, broke in. "Khitomer Control, this is Subadmiral Morgaiah t'Thavrau, Republic Warbird Bloodwing. The praetor and his men are to be accorded the respect due their stations as foreign ambassadors. Clear them for orbit now, or I will take this up with Councilor Ba'wov of the House of Chel'tok at the next opportunity. Is that clear?"

Velal waited. Finally, "Perfectly, Subadmiral. IRW Lost Road, transmitting orbital insertion vector to your helm."

"Thank you," Velal's flag captain said. "Lost Road out."

"Arrain," Velal addressed the communications officer, "hail the khre'riov, please."

"Daie, Fvillhu."

A black-haired, somewhat weathered-looking woman in a D'deridex-class warbird's command chair appeared on the screen. "Fvillhu Velal."

"Khnai," he cautiously thanked her. "You know, I had a warbird named Aen'rhien under my command at ch'Card'hass. Rescued a third of my crew from space after the Jem'Hadar destroyed the D'ridthau."

"Same warbird, llhai, though not the same leih. Happy to help. I may see you dirtside."


Eighteen hours later…

Fvillhu Velal, Dominion War veteran and respected leader of the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan, entered the conference room with a rustle of his crisp uniform and the clanking of his bodyguards' armor.

"Greetings. I was informed of the change in negotiators; I hope that you will not mince words with me as the others did."

"We don't plan to," said D'trel. "I am Rahaen'Enriov D'trel ir'Aehallah tr'Rihannsu, and this is Khre'Riov Morgaiah ir'Sheratan t'Thavrau. Now. What do you want from this deal?" She forced the last sentence through a lemon-sucking grimace.

"Shaoi kon, Fvillhu Velal i'Ra'tleihfi," said Morgan with a respectful nod.

"Shaoi ben, Khre'Riov," said Velal, returning the gesture. "Good to meet you in person. Before we begin, let me make one thing clear. While the actions of the former Fvillhu Taris and Riov Hakeev were unforgivable, I still personally consider all involved with your movement to be traitors to the Rihan people. But the simple fact is, my government no longer has the resources or political will to do anything about that so continuing our war is foolish and impractical. I have ordered the Galae to cease offensive actions against your forces for the remainder of this summit, but understand they will return fire if attacked."

"Responsible," said D'trel with a vicious half-smile. "I like that. But you dare call us traitors to the Rihanh when your precious Shiar is a nation of empty words and broken promises? There's a reason I became a Unificationist, you know."

Omek'ti'kallan gently but firmly laid a massive hand on D'trel's shoulder. Morgan focused her considerable willpower on not slapping her face.

"Empty words?" snarled Velal. "Broken promises? You DARE insult my mnhei'sahe? What do you know of our Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan, Thaessu-loving traitor?"

"Fvillhu," began Morgan, but D'trel's temper had already gotten the better of her.

"Fvadt you, Velal! I thought you were a decent man! I served under you in the Dominion War, damn it!"

"You?" scoffed Velal. "What ship? I suppose you'll claim you were on the Aen'rhien and personally won the Battle of ch'Card'hass?"

"Rahaen'Enriov…" tried Jaleh, but D'trel was on a roll.

"The Ravon. T'liss-class. We were the cannon fodder of the fleet, and you somehow didn't lose all of us, unlike the other fools with thousand-ship fleets. And here you are calling me a traitor for trying to save us from ourselves."

"What are you babbling about?" snarled Velal. "You act like the Empire is broken, unredeemable! But I myself know—"

"YOU KNOW NOTHING!" shouted D'trel, slamming her palm down on the table hard enough to crack it. "You have no idea what it was like in the system! Being given a random name, thrown in with every other rejected infant, being bullied as long as you can remember for having a 'pretentious name' because some lazy clerk was writing a novel in their spare time and accidentally named a dozen children names like 'The' and 'And', and gave others honorific prefixes by mistake; being unwanted for three decades, rejected and cast out by the parents you so desperately wanted, the older children who scorned you, the younger ones who feared you, finally finding someone who wanted you just for being you and having her ripped away by a monster in a man's skin… you know nothing. I learned things in the system, Velal. I learned what a pile of hlai dung the Shiar always was, and I learned who I am. I protect those who cannot protect themselves. I punish those who violate the innocent, no matter the cost to myself. I protect even those whom I hate, so long as it is right. You'll never understand it. You have to live it to understand."

"Admiral," rumbled Omek'ti'kallan, squeezing the Rihanha's shoulder. "Please stop."

D'trel took a couple of deep breaths, tears running down her face. Velal was staring, momentarily stunned by her outburst.

"My apologies," said the brunette Rihanha. "That was rude of me. I should have had better control."

"Lanat bar sheytun," Jaleh grumbled. "Everyone, take five. We'll reconvene in an hour."


Velal was studying an intelligence brief when he heard a knock on his door. "Llhai," Erei'Riov t'Nennian, one of his bodyguards, said through the door, "Khre'Riov t'Thavrau is here to see you."

"Odd. Well, send her in."

The door opened and Morgan stepped inside with a bottle of ale and two glasses. "Jolan'tru. I brought a peace offering of sorts."

"Your companion is quite the spitfire, Khre'Riov," the fvillhu remarked as she poured a generous dollop of aquamarine liquid into the glass.

"She has reason to be. The Elements seem to consider her their personal plaything."

Velal sat back down and held his glass of ale up to the light, checking the clarity and color. Definitely not replicated. He took an experimental sip and let it trail fire down his throat. Flavorful, malty and not overly harsh. "Elements, but that is a fine brew."

"Thank you."

Something about her tone made him look at the woman's weatherbeaten face. "Yours?"

She nodded. "I have a small sideline as a brewer. Had a vineyard on Virinat as well, before the attack." She took a pull from her own glass.

"You're not as hostile as D'trel."

"I saw a better side of the Shiar growing up. Mother was a civil servant, an aide at the Deihuit. We split our time between Ki Baratan and the family estate on Sheratan VII."

"Your father?"

"Mother never said. I suspect she was sparing a deihu's mnhei'sahe." She placed her empty glass on the table. "I didn't go through what D'trel did. I was too young to serve during the Dominion War—I'm younger than I look, llhai, too many years of farm work—but I did serve after that, during the Havran uprising and the Civil War."

"Then why—"

"Why the Kreh'dhhokh Mol'Rihan? Because the Tal'Shiar took it all. Everything I had, everything I'd worked for, thrice. They destroyed my career twenty years ago, then they destroyed the life I built in exile, and then we learned last year that they had destroyed my family among the dead of Hobus. And the Shiar wasn't helping anymore. It was all built on lies and politics and it bickered and postured while our people starved and died of bloodfire. D'Tan is a naive idealist and I don't agree with his politics, or D'trel's, but he's trying. It gives me a reason to believe in something again. A future where I can lay aside my weapons at last." She looked him in the eye. "I will die for that."

"I believe you. And under other circumstances I think we could have been friends."

"For now I'll settle for not being enemies, Fvillhu. Shall we try this again?"


Twenty-two light-years away, Erei'Riov Alhari t'Ihaimehn, tactical officer of the ch'R Maens, was sitting in her chair enjoying a cup of tea and the silence of ship-night. So far the patrol on the southern fringe of the Shiar ih'Saeihr Rihan had been quiet. No distress calls, no unexpected anomalies. For once even the retrofitted replicators on the old D'dhael Aish'anh-class warbird were behaving themselves.

"Rekkhai, I have an odd signal here," the sensor officer said.

"Fvadt," she swore. "I knew it was too good to be true."

"Rekkhai?"

"Never you mind," t'Ihaimehn told him, making her way through the cramped space to his console. "Show me."

It was a tachyon burst, superluminal matter being dragged below c and consequently self-annihilating. T'Ihaimehn swore again. "Better wake the leih."

"That could mean any number of things, rekkhai. Ow!" The amnhhei'saehne smacked him across the back of the head with her hand.

"Yes, 'any number of things', and most of the list consists of things I would not wish to face without Riov t'Khellian on the bridge."

"Look, there goes another one." He paused, then his puzzled expression changed to one of fear. "Elements. Rekkhai, sound red alert, now! Beginning gravimetric scan!"

T'Ihaimehn yanked the microphone from overhead, "Red alert! All hands stand to for action! Riov t'Khellian to the bridge!"

"Rekkhai! Two Dhelan-class warbirds decloaking off our starboard bow! Range, 1,500 kilometers and closing fast!"

The erei'riov vaulted a row of consoles and hammered the key to bring the forward shields online, muttering, "Elements preserve us," under her breath and hoping the generators would behave. The Galae was so short on ships now that they'd begun bending any warbird they could find to the cause: the Maens had been a museum ship at Artaleirh, hurriedly retrofitted with systems scavenged from two too-damaged Mogai-class warbirds.

For once the Elements were smiling on her: the shields came up without complaint, and not a moment too soon as the sensor officer screamed, "Missile separation!"

"Returning fire!"


"So we're agreed on the location of the border, then?" Khoroushi checked.

"I have no objections," said Velal. Morgan also assented, as did D'trel, with prompting.

"Good. Adding that to the treaty proposal for the Deihuit. Next on the agenda—"

The chamber door shot open and a blonde Galae s'Shiar Rihan officer rushed in. "What is the meaning of this, Arrain?" Velal demanded. She dashed up to him, dropped a datapad on the table in front of him, and began whispering urgently in his ear. His expression darkened and he abruptly stood. "This… farce of a summit is over," he spat.

"What? Why?"

"One of our ships in the Alpha Onias system has just been the target of a surprise attack by two warbirds of your Kreh'dhhokh Mol'Rihan."

END OF PART ONE