Captain's Log: Stardate: 59048.2: We've begun our investigations on preparing Lt. Commander Hoshi Sato and Lieutenant Liz Dowler on their mission into Breen territory. However, we do not know much on the Breen and have asked Commander Ezri Dax and Doctor Julian Bashir to assist us since they have had experience with the Breen.

"Their biology makes no sense." Dustin said.

"What do you mean?" Liz asked.

"It's inconsistent." The chief engineer replied.

"Oh that clears up a lot of things." Liz said with a sarcastic undertone.

"I mean that there are four totally different physiological profiles for the Breen." Dustin said. "One report says they're humanoid with canine snouts, but that's speculative."

"Because of the armor." Hoshi said.

Dustin continued. "Another says their bodies are sacks of ammonia with skeletons and they just go poof at temperature above thirty-two degrees."

Alex came over holding another padd. "A Klingon file says they're silicon based, but Starfleet thinks they're carbon based. One file says the Breen have four lobed brains and no blood, and another says they have no organs at all."

"Did you see anything that could help us when you were taken prisoner by the Breen two years ago, Dustin?" Allensworth asked.

The chief engineer shook his head. Images of the ship's corridors flying past him as he sprinted down the halls, trying to get away from the Jem'Hadar that the Breen had created. Then images of him beating the Jem'Hadar into submission flashed through his mind which then forced his thoughts to think of his deceased sister Avery. "No, Captain. They all wore the same armor and spoke in their machine like speech. I saw no unarmored crewmembers or anything like that."

"What about you, Commander Dax?"

The joined Trill shook her head as well. "Nothing really stood out that I could see. Worf and I were constantly planning our escape and we were being shocked most of the time the Breen came into the room."

"One thing is for certain though. If this was really their physiology, they'd have no use for M class worlds." Alex said. "They'd be all over P class planets like Andor or any other glaciated planets. But they colonize M class planets almost exclusively."

Liz looked down at her padd and the notes she had jotted down on it about Breen physiology. "So what is our official hypothesis about their physiology?"

"It could be that most of them are humanoid." Hoshi said. Everyone looked at Hoshi, who wasn't really prepared for everyone's immediate attention at her comment. "What? Did I say something incredibly stupid?"

"No, not at all." Allensworth said. "But are you suggesting that there's more than one kind of Breen?"

Hoshi nodded. "Yeah. When I was fighting against the Xindi in the 22nd century, we found out that there were five different kinds of Xindi. There were six but one of them went extinct. There were Reptilian, Insectoid, Aquatic, Arboreal, and Primate. The Avian part of the Xindi were the ones to die off."

"Then that puts us back at square one with their physiology." Allensworth said. "Let's go ahead and study their language." He shifted his gaze toward the ceiling. "Computer, play Breen speech extract one." A harsh metallic screech filled the room. It made Liz think of dueling drills and grinding gears.

"Computer, pause playback!" Hoshi said. Everyone looked at her as to why she suddenly stopped the recording. "That's not organic syntax. It's artificial. It's the kind of signal a universal translator creates when it parses one language into another."

"So the Breen language is computer generated?" Liz asked. "What are they androids?"

"No, I'm saying there is no Breen language." Those vocoders aren't for translating or amplifying, they're for scrambling. They hide the speaker's true language."

"Why?" Dustin asked.

"I'm not sure." Hoshi said.

"It could be that Breen society is based on misinformation and obfuscation, inside and out. They hide their true natures from each other as well as from outsiders."

"Wait." Liz said. "You just did the same thing again, Commander. You referred to the Breen in a plural manner, implying they have more than one nature."

"I just have this idea in my head that there is no such thing as Breen physiology because Breen is not a species. Breen is a arbitrary social construct."

Captain Allensworth walked over to the wall viewer and studied its data. "How many species do we think the Breen are comprised of?"

"From a couple to maybe a dozen." Hoshi said. "I don't know, it's just a notion in my head that I can't get away from."

"Don't worry, it's a good thought. It wouldn't be the first time that one species ended up being several different species." Allensworth said.

"They all appear to be essentially humanoid in form." Bashir said. "But even while wearing all that armor and speaking through those vocoders, they exhibit subtle variations in their body language."

"What kind of variations?" Allensworth asked.

"Variations such as: preferred distance while speaking to a subordinate, reactions to the presence of superiors, the way they shift in weight while at rest."

"During the Dominion war, Colonel Kira disguised herself as a Breen and she noticed that the coolant pack was just for show. So that means that not all Breen need to be constantly cooled." Dax said.

Liz looked at Hoshi and Allensworth. "This is our way in. If the Breen use those suits and helmets to mask their identities even from one another, we can modify two sets of armor and practically walk right in."

"We could modify the helmets' translators to turn your voices into Breen noise and vice versa." Dustin said. "Even in a crowd of Breen, no one would know."

"The suits also are made to mask the wearer's vital signs." Bashir said.

"I think we're forgetting one major part of the plan." Alex said. Everyone stopped talking and looked at the Alexandria's first officer. "How are we going to get up to the front door?"

Thot Prazz stood on a scaffold beneath the bow of his half assembled fast attack cruiser prototype and gazed into a firefall of sparks. Glowing motes rained down from a team of hull welders working high above him. The torrent cascaded over his shoulders and ricocheted off his armored chest and the snout of his helmet.

My masterpiece will need a name. Something fitting. Prazz thought to himself.

An electronically processed voice squawked inside his helmet. "Command to Thot Prazz. Do you read me, sir?"

"Yes, Trax. What is it?"

"Our visiting dignitaries insist on meeting with you. I told them you were busy, but they were quite adamant."

Masking his annoyance with boredom, Prazz asked, "Where are they?"

"In your office, sir. Should I have them escorted to their quarters?"

Prazz began to the slow walk back to the airlock. "Not necessary, Trax. Tell them I will be there momentarily. Prazz out." As he crossed the catwalk, Prazz was thankful for the magnetic pads in the soles of his boots. They kept his footing solid as he traversed the microgravity environment that surrounded his work in progress.

Massive flood lamps focused blinding light on the dart like starship, the reflection from which illuminated the rough hewn stone interior of the classified shipyard. The rocky walls were reddish brown and studded with shimmering hunks of crystal and glittering patches of metallic ore. There had been times during Prazz's years of service to the Confederacy when he had envied starship designers who worked in open space beneath a curtain of starlight; this was not one of those times. As claustrophobic as this wholly enclosed drydock had seemed to him when he'd first arrived, he had to admit that he also found it beautiful in a peculiar way that so far he had been unable to describe to anyone else.

At the end of the catwalk, he keyed his security code into the panel beside the airlock door, which slid open to the left. As soon as he stepped inside, he felt the pull of normal gravity, and the magnets in his boots automatically disengaged. The out door closed behind him, the chamber pressurized in seconds, and the inner door opened, permitting him ingress to the command center for the shipyard. IT was a short walk to the lift, and a few minutes later he was standing in the doorway to his office, facing the two newest impediments to his success.

"Thank you for seeing us." General Tomeck, a Romulan who had come on the behalf of the Tal Shiar, the intelligence apparatus of the Romulan Star Empire, to monitor Prazz's progress. Tomeck nodded in the direction of his companion, a high ranking Gorn officer known as Sonath. "We trust you and your team are making swift progress on the prototype."

"Yes." Thot Prazz said. "Thank you for your confidence." He hoped that adopting a dismissive attitude toward his unwelcome visitors might cut the meeting short, but his experience with Romulans kept him from being optimistic.

Tomeck narrowed his eyes. Despite being middle aged, he sported a full head of jet black hair and an intense demeanor. "My people took a great risk to extract your field operative from the Federation's shipyard. We also honored your requests for his privacy while we ferried him here. I should think our actions would serve as evidence of our good faith in this joint endeavor."

"Your people have honored the terms of our agreement to the letter." Prazz said. "So have mine. We provided an operative who could and did access the plans and we are constructing the prototype as agreed."

Sonath's voice was as rough as his fangs were sharp. "But you have not been sharing your prototype's test data."

"Because that was not part of our agreement." Prazz said. "You pledged to provide us with the requisite rare ores and finished components. We promised you six operational cruisers in return."

"Our leader insists that you share your research into the slipstream drive, so that we may begin training crews to operate it." Sonath said.

"Unfortunate then, that your leader failed to specify such terms when the parameters of our partnership were set."

The Romulan stepped between Prazz and the Gorn. "Friends, there is no need for us to argue, or to be bound by unnecessarily narrow language of politicians. I'm certain that if we discuss this in a rational manner, we can arrive at a mutually beneficial arrangement that allows for greater cooperation."

"Our arrangement is already one of mutual benefit." Prazz said. "If you wish to see it changed, that is a job for diplomats. I am an engineer and a soldier. Amending treaties is not part of my job description."

"Forgive me." Tomeck said. "But you are being most unreasonable. My people and Sonath's are both skilled ship builders. If you would share the design schematics and your latest notes, our engineers could help you. It might shave days or even weeks off the schedule." Adding a touch of soft menace, he said, "Time is a factor for this project, in case you've forgotten."

Prazz resented Tomeck's insinuation that he and his crew were unequal to the task of finishing the prototype. "I have not forgotten." He said. "And I am on schedule, assuming we end this meeting now so I can return to work."

A low growl rolled behind Sonath's razor sharp grin, and Tomeck's taut smile was no less threatening. "As you wish." The Romulan said. He followed the Gorn to the door. After Sonath stepped outside, Tomeck looked back at Prazz. "For your sake, Prazz, I hope you remain on schedule. Because if you do not, I assure you that I will amend the terms of our partnership."

Tomeck walked away, and Prazz pressed a button to close and lock the door, just in case the Romulan or his reptilian pet decided to come back. He blamed the politics for this state of affairs. In the past, Prazz knew he would have been free to sped a few years developing slipstream technology without drawing the attention of the Confederacy's galactic neighbors. But now the Breen were yoked to the Romulans' paranoia, the Gorns' ambition and the Tholians's xenophobia.

All I ever wanted to do was to build great starships. If I had known it would mean dealing with politicians, I would have become a writer.