One of the aliens, presumably the one who earlier voiced his opinion about the safety of the craft, shot out of the ambulance like a cannonball. Tanteque threw an amused smile towards T'Sara who simply sighed.

"It wasn't your piloting. His fear of flying is illogical. But he makes up for it with his intellect." T'Sara mumbled so only Tanteque could hear.

She nodded in understanding. Some people simply weren't cut out for flying. "Let's get inside. The troops will be here soon, they always canvas the area. The PDF knows that we harbor rebels—they have simply been unable to prove it yet. And Commander Bulani lacks the authority to perform enhanced interrogation."

"Enhanced interrogation? Who are the bastards torturing now?" came a voice from the kitchen. Shortly thereafter, Iro appeared. This time not wearing his usual lab coat, but a plaid shirt with black pants.

Tanteque walked up and embraced him. "We have guests."

"Indeed we do." He smiled at the three hooded figures. "Welcome."

The three aliens almost indistinguishably nodded, but remained silent. Still covering their faces with their hooded robes.

"It is considered rude to hide your faces as guests in someone's residence. You should know that," he said, sounding almost offended. When they did not respond, he turned to Tanteque and silently asked, "Where did you say they were from, again?"

Without turning towards him, and keeping the smile on her face, she muttered back, "I didn't."

He hid his annoyance and silently said, "I see…."

Their faces were of course still hidden, but they appeared to meet each other's gaze…almost like they were communicating telepathically. Then, one of them spoke up. "Seriously Commander, when the shit hit the fan back in town, we would have kicked the bucket if she hadn't showed up. Frankly, the lass saved our asses. Best thing we can do is to get out of their hair and let them fight their rebellion without drawing too much attention to ourselves."

"Indeed." T'Sara agreed. "The decision to make first contact, can be considered rash at best." She tuned to Iro and Tanteque. "We need to contact our vessel but our equipment was destroyed along with our shuttlecraft. Do you have access to subspace communications?"

"Sub-what?" The duo asked simultaneously.

"Sub-space communications." T'Sara said again. "What kind of communication equipment to you use then?"

"Radios." The duo answers together once again.

T'Sara's left eyebrow shot up. "Radios?"

"Yes, short range radios." Iro said. "Unless…" he locked eyes with Tanteque, who nodded.

Acknowledging her permission, he moved into the other room, walked up to a desk that was flooded with papers, most of them forgotten, and retrieved a small gray box. Roughly the size of a plate, but triangle shaped. He returned to the living room and handed the box to the nearest alien who happened to be the man with the completely unreasonable fear of flying.
The man nodded. Iro quickly deducted that they all had to work on their "thank-you's", as he returned to Tanteque's side.

The man, whom neither Iro nor Tanteque knew the name of, which annoyed the hell out of them both, opened the box. First flashing understanding, then confusion. But once he had finally inventoried the contents he couldn't restrain himself any longer. "Jackpot, baby!" he exclaimed to everyone's surprise.

T'Sara's eyebrows shot up in confusion. "I beg your pardon? What was that Lieutenant?"

"Uhm… ah… uhm…" the lieutenant cleared his throat. "What I meant to say is that we just struck gold. This is a Starfleet emergency kit from the runabout Themes."

"She was lost eight months ago…" T'Sara muttered to herself. "Emergency beacon?"

"Aye," He smiled. "Present and accounted for, Commander. I will have to make some modifications because of the radiation this system. My father though me a few tricks, I might… But I think were in the clear."

USS Kir'Shara

Ezri was standing a few meters behind him when he zipped his bag closed and grabbed it. "Don't, Julian-please. Don't do this," she cried. After everything, she could see him slowly slipping away from her. Ezri Dax was desperate to not lose her husband as well.

For the first time in his lifetime, the old, 20th century house they have decided to build their home in, felt alien. He turned back, looking at her gently, a single teardrop slowly finding its way down his cheek.

He dropped the bag and walked up to her, pulled her close and kissed her. Not a fleeting kiss, but a passionate one, like the one they shared on that winter day so many years ago when they finally rekindled.

Deep inside, he knew he was making a mistake, but he was in too much pain to care. He couldn't bear to face her anymore. Not after what he'd done.

"I love you with all my heart, Ezri" he whispered in her ear. "But...I have to do this. I have to know why this happened to her."

He reached down and lifted his bag, determined to leave.

But then something happened that he hadn't anticipated, Ezri stopped him.

She slowly took his left hand, put a small object in it and closed his fist. Then she reached up and kissed him, he couldn't but feel like it was for the last time. He hoped it wasn't, but the feeling was distinct.

Tears were flowing now, Ezri looked up at him and smiled. At least as much as she could. "I love you, Julian. And-when you're ready to come home... When you're ready to give me my husband back, I'll be here waiting for you," she whispered, brushing his arm with her hand as she walked past him out into the garden.

She had already disappeared out of view when he opened his hand, revealing her wedding ring of gold…

The blank polished doors parted, revealing Captain Mecren Prin standing in the doorway, her long, shiny, brown hair in a ponytail, gracefully at her back. The admiral was too deep in his thoughts to notice her until she spoke. "Sir, I would need your input on something before you leave," she said.

Looking around in confusion, he shot up like the chair was electrified. "Forgive me, Captain. I don't know what I was thinking," he said with his all too familiar British accent.

Prin let a weak smile slip through. "It's perfectly alright, sir. Anytime. But I'd like you to know that that's not Sulhir's chair. I had that shipped to Earth, to your wife."

"Ah, indeed you have." he nodded somberly.

They stood for a number of uncomfortable minutes before

Prin broke the silence. "Sir?"

Bashir looked up. "Yes, Captain?"

"If you'd look at something…."

"Right." He smiled. "Shall we?" he added and gestured for her to take point.

Just like the last two weeks Rear Admiral Julian Bashir had been aboard his, now-late, daughter's ship, when he entered the bridge, everyone fell silent. He muttered a quick, "As you were," for what it seemed the millionth time, and followed Captain Mecren to the science console.

The Vulcan science officer remained as stiff as usual until Bashir shot him a glare, and then he loosened slightly. Julian had never been a stickler for protocol, and watching the man standing like he was expecting a firing squad to show up was just something he hated with all his heart. For some reason it made him feel like he was abusing his power as an Admiral, which really couldn't have been further from the truth.

"Sovaras?" Prin addressed the Vulcan. "The transmission?"

"Yes," he responded. "I was running a diagnostic on the sensors when I picked this up." He manipulated his console, until a cracked male voice was audible.

"Thi.. is …utenant Doherty of the USS C…ano. To any… lied vessels… Pegasi Pr-"

"See if you can clear it up." Bashir ordered.

Sovaras nodded and further manipulated his console. "Should be better now." he said, starting the transmission once again.

"This is Lieutenant Doherty of the Federation Starship Corano. To any allied or unaligned vessels, our position is Pegasi Prime. Our diplomatic shuttle has been shot down. Status of the Corano is undeterminable at this time. Holding position at a rebel run clinic, a few dozen kilometers south of the capital. I repeat, to all allied or unaligned vessels, request immediate assistance. Position, Pegasi Prime. Lieutenant Charles Doherty out."

"That's it, sir. That's all we got." Sovaras said looking up at Bashir who displayed and incredibly blank look.

"It's a distress call, set a course and retrieve the man. You're perfectly capable of rescuing a Starfleet officer on your own." he said. "What do you need me for?"

Commander Malcolm Lyle, the ships first officer spoke up from behind them."To verify it. It was sent on a Maquis channel. It might be a ruse—an ambush."

"Doesn't change the fact that someone needs our help. This is the fastest ship in the fleet. Something goes south, Skrorduglig steps on it and we slipstream the hell away." He moved over to the console and accessed Starfleet personnel records. "Look." He said pointing at the man on the monitor. "Lieutenant Charles Doherty, USS Corano…. Ah, here it is. His father, Lieutenant Commander Mark Doherty, was dishonorably discharged for aiding a Maquis raider while he was stationed on DS9. Come to think of it, I think I remember that man."

"So why would the son of a Maquis sympathizer send a distress call on an obsolete channel?" Prin asked.

Bashir looked down at the science console. The Maquis transmission's position was still clearly pinpointed. "I don't know, but I sure as hell like to find out. Send a transmission to Starbase Alhira, tell them I'm taking the Kir'Shara to Pegasi Prime. Feel free to add an objection or two, if case something goes south."

"You're staying aboard?" Prin asked pulling him aside. "What about your investigation? You know she didn't do it."

"Dead." he muttered, "The last man who was involved committed suicide before my men could interrogate him. And what I know doesn't matter if I cant prove it. - Besides, I think Commander Anzak will be fine without me for another few days." he added.

Unfortunately, his word carried little weight except among friends, for at least as long as Akaar had had something to do with Starfleet. They trusted him….right up until the point of the actual trusting. His previous affiliations with Section 31, now his daughter labeled a traitor. The little power he had left was slowly diminishing. They wouldn't give much thought to his objections about the battle plan anyway.

"So," Prin asked. "All in all, what do you think?"

Bashir pondered her question for a moment. "Either way, we need to know. If the distress call is real, this man is in trouble. If it's fake, we need to know who is messing with us. Set a course. Maximum slipstream."

Prin turned to the helm. "You heard the man, Lieutenant. Floor it."

Pegasi Prime

"I don't have to answer to you!" Tanteque shot back. "I can report you to the police anytime. Never forget that!"

Her statement didn't appear to frighten T'Sara a second. "I asked you a question." She said. How she could stay this calm, was beyond both Iro, and T'Sara's companions.

"So what?" Tanteque turned to leave, hoping for T'Sara to stay behind. But she didn't. Somewhere under all that Vulcan, there was a furious woman. Then she made another mistake, she reached to grab Tanteque's shoulder.

As her arm touched Tanteque, she reached out and grabbed it, pulling T'Sara into the killzone. Then she planted her left elbow in T'Sara's chest, put her left leg right on front of T'Sara as she doubled over, and tossed her clear over herself with T'Sara's own momentum. Once T'Sara was on the ground, Tanteque quickly immobilized her. Somehow, in a way that was beyond everyone present, T'Sara's arms were behind her, and therefore, as long as Tanteque had her weight on her, she wasn't going anywhere. She pressed her forearm to T'Sara's throat, careful to stop just enough oxygen to make a point.

"20 more seconds and you're dead. - Don't do that again."

Tanteque said and released her. "Do you want to know where I got that box? I killed the previous owner. Stabbed him in the back." As long as she thinks I'm a homicidal maniac, she'll do as I say and stay hidden, she mused.

There were of course rather large gaps in that plan, but as long nobody drew the military's attention, Tanteque was fine with a few people believing that she was crazy.

"You didn't…" T'Sara managed to cough out. "That box belongs to you. It's yours. You didn't take it from anyone."

Much to Tanteque's surprise, the custom of raising ones eyebrows when quizzical, didn't only include her species, but the two others as well. "Sir?" one of them asked, "Have we missing something?"

The Vulcan rose and nodded, "Indeed you have, Lieutenant. This woman is a Starfleet officer."

"That's just ridiculous," Tanteque snorted. "You people must really be full of yourselves if you think anyone who can kick your asses must be one of you."

T'Sara shot her a glare. "On the contrary. The vessel this emergency beacon originates from, was lost in this area a little over eight months ago, with a female Starfleet officer aboard. A Captain if the facts were correct. But that wasn't what made me certain. The way you immobilized me, only a handful of people know that move. And I find it highly unlikely that anyone on this world have any idea of what Suus Mahna is."

"Fine, you seem to have it all figured out. So what now? You call you fancy ship an-" her sentence was cut short by the sharp sound of glass breaking. Before the figured out what was going on, four concussion grenades were at their feet. Tanteque instinctively jumped to the side, but it was too late. Her momentum plus the shockwave the grenade emitted, only served to the end that she hit the counter with greater force. Immense fatigue washed over her but before she could reach to check for a head wound, she slipped into unconsciousness.

USS Kir'Shara

"What is it?" Bashir asked briskly stepping out of the turbolift. He took the advisory position of Prin's left before she could answer.

"We've detected the Corano, she's in range but we can't contact them. Might be interference-"
The main viewer zoomed in on the vessel, revealing extreme hull damage.

"or not…" she finished.

"What the hell happened to her?" Lyle snapped at Sovaras.

The science officer briefly looked down at his console before answering. And when he did, for the first time, a hint of worry managed to slither its way into his voice. "Some sort of plasma based weaponry, similar to Romulan designed energy weapons, but very primitive."

"Might be primitive, but they sure as hell kicked the bucket because of it." Johansen muttered from OPS before being hushed down by Lyle.

"Life signs?"

"Yes," Sovaras replied to the captain's worried question,

"there are crewmen alive. But I cannot determine the exact number. Or their location for that matter. The computer is even having difficulty separating the lifesigns. At the moment, there is nothing further I can do." He paused. "Captain?"

"Yes?"

"The Corano was refitted three months ago. She carried the same shields and weaponry we are."

Thank you for pointing out exactly how big a mess were in right now, Prin mused. Aloud she simply said "Noted." And returned her attention to the main viewer where the mortally wounded Excelsior class vessel drifted alone in the darkness.

"Very well," she sighed. "Red alert! Sound battle stations and set a course towards the planet." She ordered. "And Sarema?"

"Yes, Captain." The Romulan officer responded.

"If the orbital weapons platforms open fire on us, don't wait for my order. Just blast them all the way back to Achernar Prime."

She smiled, "Understood."

And for the first time in Starfleet history, at least that Captain Mecren Prin was aware of, a Starfleet vessel approached a potential first contact situation with weapons primed and ready to fire. The planet slowly grew larger and all the crew could do was to wait. Prin and Malcolm were staring at each other, both hoping for the other one to say something positive. Yet neither of them did. Malcolm was just about to break the silence with a well timed status report when Johansen spoke up.

"Captain, were being hailed."

Prin and Malcolm met each other gaze. "By whom?" she finally asked.

"By the planet, sir. Apparently they can see us." Johansen said turning towards Prin. "Let's just hope they can only talk, not fire."

"Indeed." Prin muttered. "Lieutenant, open a channel. Left see what they want."

With a quick tap, Johansen activated the main viewer were a short, bald and at first glance, obnoxious man appeared.

"Hello," he said with a wide smile, "I trust your trip was problem free, yes? May Olanab grant you a life of peace and welfare. I am Representative Dractan and I speak for his Excellency, President Tronameth. How may I help you this fine evening?"

The three most senior officers, Bashir, Mecren and Lyle met each other's gaze. Probably thinking the same thing. This man is far too pleasant for someone who just blew a starship out of the sky. Nonetheless, the surface remained clear and no projectiles were launched and so, Prin decided to give diplomacy a go.

"Good evening, Mr. Dractan," she said as she rose and approached the main viewer, "I am Mecren Prin, captain of the Federation Starship Kir'Shara. This is Rear Admiral Julian Bashir beside me. We recently received a distress call from one of our officers. He claimed to have been shot down during a diplomatic mission. Not to mention the fact that the USS Corano, is heavily damaged and adrift because of your orbital platforms. Now, I'm a reasonable woman. If you explain your actions I will refrain from obliterating everything from your orbit. I want to know why you shot down a diplomatic shuttle and why you attacked the Corano!"

"Your shuttle violated sovereign Pegasi airspace!" Dractan snapped , "And you sent spies to our planet! You may think we are primitive but make no mistake, if you make any threatening moves I'll cancel my orders and have the prisoners executed! Am I clear!"

"You have made yourself very clear, Mr. Dractan," Bashir spoke up, hoping to salvage the situation, "I am a senior Starfleet official, I can assure you, if we had placed a spy or spies on your world I would have definitely known about it. Let's just put our cards on the table, shall we?"

Dractan grunted something untranslatable in response.

"I have a missing officer somewhere on your world and you have attacked both a diplomatic shuttle and a starship." Bashir pointed out, gathering all of his diplomatic skills, "According to our laws those actions will certainly lead to war. Now I don't want that, and I surely hope you don't want a Starfleet Task Force in orbit around your world. Rest assured, the Corano and the Kir'Shara are far from the most powerful vessels in our fleet. Now I'm prepared to write this off as an accident in order to salvage relations between our worlds, but as long as you hold our officer hostage, I will do no such thing."

"What are your terms, Admiral," Dractan muttered silently. Obviously annoyed with the fact that, for once, he want the one in the threatening position, "I will of course need to confer with his Excellency."

"Of course," Bashir inclined his head in approval, "Release our officer and give us the coordinates of the crashed shuttled so we can retrieve it." he said and signaled Johansen to cut the feed and the crimson planet appeared on the main viewer.

Prin rose and walked up to him. They stood beside each other, simply looking out over the world that had given them both a terrible headache, "I'd hate to ask, Julian," she whispered, "But what now?"

Bashir let out a deep sigh, "Now Prin, we do what we've been trained to do. Wait until the bureaucrats drink a cup of coffee, have lunch then discuss this matter in a committee for a week."

"Oh, joy." Pherigo muttered from his console.