STAR TREK – THE NEXT GENERATION

by Soledad

EP#1: THE NEUTRAL ZONE

Author's notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc., see Chapter 1

There are lots of honest-to-Romulus canon characters in this chapter, with the exception of the Praetor himself and t'Luin. You're free to guess who's who. *g* The Praetor is "played" by Benedict Cumberbatch, t'Luin probably by Jolene Blalock, although I might change my mind about that.

Warning: The Romulan language, name-giving tradition and cultural aspects have been originally created by Diane Duane in her novels "My Enemy, My Ally" and "The Romulan Way". I find her take on the Romulans richer and more interesting than what little canon threw at us, so I'm following book canon. Meaning that I don't accept anything said in the "Enterprise" series or the "Nemesis" movie. If you disagree with that choice, I'll ask you respectfully to hit the Back button now because you won't like this story.

Feel free to ignore the footnotes while reading this chapter – they're mainly the translations of the Romulan words/phrases and their meaning can be deduced from the context. They're just for the more geeky ones among us. :)


CHAPTER 03 – THE ENEMY

Commander Tebok ei-Mheissan tr'Hwaehrai was sitting in the center-chair in the bridge of the huge D-deridex-class Warbird, the Ra'kholk(1), motionless like a statue. While he appeared to be routinely watching the activity of his hwaeyiir(2) with half an eye, his keenly intelligent mind was occupied with the enormous task before him.

And with that he didn't mean the simple (yet meaningful) move of crossing the Neutral Zone – again! – and delivering the representative of the Fvillhaih(3) to the perhaps most important conference since the Rihannsu(4) first met the Lloann'mhrahel(5) some two hundred years previously.

Tebok – like their Vulcan cousins, the Rihannsu only revealed their call-names to outsiders, while calling each other by their House-names as a sign of respect, unless related to each other or close friends – was in a somewhat delicate position. His family, though old and respected, came from ch'Havran(6), which meant that they had always had to work much harder for success than those who originated from the more dominant one of the twin homeworlds. In the tangled web of intrigue that was Rihannsu society, it paid off to be present where the web was being weaved.

That he had been able to climb the ranks and become the commanding officer of one of the brand new, powerful Warbirds at such a relatively young age was due to the patronage of House s'Khellian, the House of the Hunter, one of the oldest, wealthiest and most influential praetorial Houses on ch'Havran.

Members of House s'Khellian had traditionally been sitting on both sides of the Tricameron(7), being a senatorial House by inheritance and a praetorial one due to their wealth and influence. The s'Khellian hru'firh, the Lord of the noble House, had always sent promising sons and daughters of allied Houses to the military, including the Tal Shiar, to ensure their own safety. Because without military support, not even such old Houses could have prevailed.

Of course, other Houses did the same; the power struggle never ended in Rihannsu society. They were a competitive warrior race, their lives were based on alliances, old traditions and an ancient code of honour so ingrained in their very being that few of them could entirely ignore it.

Outsiders liked to say that Rihannsu had no honour at all; but that was, of course, not true. The principle of mnhei'sahe raised high demands towards the Rihannsu character – demands that no outsider could truly understand. Demands that led to situations like the current composition of the Ra'kholk's crew, with the conflicting loyalties each individual had to work out for him- or herself.

"Rekkhai(8)," Subcommander t'Luin turned around with her chair from the screen displaying the readings of the long-range sensors. "We have crossed the Neutral Zone and are approaching our rendezvous point with the flagship of he Lloannen'galae."

"Hrafirh'rau!(9)" Tebok replied curtly. "Ta'rhae(10)!"

T'Luin projected the tactical view of the sector onto the main screen of the hweyiir. It showed the nearest stars, closer up the uninhabited planetoids along the Federation side of the border of the Neutral Zone, among them the gleaming artificial structure that was Starbase 39-Sierra… and far, far away still, the tiny dot marked by the arrow-like Starfleet symbol and the ID-code of the U.S.S. Enterprise, approaching at high warp from the opposite direction.

Tebok felt the pressure on his chest ease a little. The presence of the Enterprise was their best chance to make tr'Khellian's risky plan work. It was still a dangerous dance on the sword's edge, but with somebody like Captain Picard hosting the negotiations at least they did have a chance.

What they did with that chance was entirely their responsibility, of course.

Tebok rose from the command chair with determination.

"I will inform the Praetor," he announced, heading for the lift. "Ri'lae fv'htaiell, Erei'riov,(11)" he added as an afterthought for his second-in-command, Thei tr'Annwhi, who was currently standing at the tactical console. For security reasons, they were running with a skeleton crew, so the senior officers had to fill various posts, as any given situation would demand.

"Ssuaj-ha!(12)" tr'Annwhi replied crisply and was already heading down towards the command chair as ordered, with carefully suppressed eagerness.

That was the last thing Tebok saw as the doors closed on him, and he smiled grimly. Tr'Annwhi wanted so badly to have that seat for himself for true that not even in his commanding officer's presence could he completely hide it.

A mistake that might cause his downfall one day, certainly.

His executive officer came from a long line of career military and was a good, competent officer himself. Under different circumstances Tebok would have liked to have him under his command. Unfortunately, tr'Annwhi was also a plant of the Tal Shiar. More accurately, a protégée of Jaeih t'Radaik, the infamous Deputy Director of the Tal Shiar.

House s'Radaik, one of the leading military Houses of ch'Rihan, had its protégées everywhere; the same way as House s'Khellian did. Therefore, even though a Fleet officer and nominally a subordinate of Tebok, tr'Annwhi counted as a supporter of Tal Shiar politics. Just as t'Luin, despite being an officer of the Tal Shiar, was unwaveringly loyal to House s'Khellian; the same way as Tebok himself.

The lift stopped on the First Habitat Level, deep within the Warbird's hull, where the quarters of the senior staff and those of important visitors were situated. Tebok left the lift cabin, walked up to the ornate door of the VIP quarters and rang the door-chime. Then he waited respectfully.

"Come in!" the deep, rich voice of the Praetor said from within and the slide doors opened noiselessly.

Tebok stepped into his patron's antechamber. Although, strictly spoken, Lhaerl tr'Khellian was merely the brother of his actual patron and the true puppet master beyond this dangerous undertaking, Deihu(13) M'ret tr'Khellian. A senator who had just recently risen to the office of a proconsul.

The brother and the long-reaching right hand. Between the two of them, the brothers s'Khellian had their eyes and ears in both legislative-executive branches of the government… and in both branches of the military, due to their numerous protégées. Not a small task for a House that, just a century earlier, was on the verge of extinction.

As a rule, the younger brother took over the part of their shared schemes whenever physical action was needed. M'ret preferred to sit in the centre of his web in the Senate Chambers in Ra'tleirfi and manipulate things through his retainers. Lhaerl, on the other hand, was way too restless to do the same. He liked to be in the middle of the action, often regardless of his own safety – or that of those around him, which made the guards of House s'Khellian age prematurely.

Currently he was sitting in an armchair of chrome and black leather, wearing a black robe with sweeping sleeves, his fingers stapled under his chin in a fairly good imitation of the Vulcan meditation pose. It was a pose he often assumed when only his faithful retainers could see him, stating that it helped him think.

Thinking was something Lhaerl tr'Khellian held in very high regard. Higher than any other aspect of life, including food or sleep – or even breathing. He was a true eccentric, driven by the elements of water and air, as the elders would say.

"Auethn!(14)", he ordered, without changing his pose or even as much as looking in Tebok's direction.

"We're approaching the Federation Starbase 39-Sierra, Rekkhai," Tebok, long grown indifferent towards the Praetor's eccentricity, reported.

That earned him a fleeting glance of those pale, slanted eyes.

"What about the Federation flagship?" Lhaerl asked.

"A ship sending the ID-code of the U.S.S. Enterprise is coming in at high warp from the opposite direction," Tebok replied cautiously. "Of course, they could be sending a false ID-code. We can't be one hundred per cent certain until they've come into visual range."

Tr'Khellian shook his head, sending his curls flying. He wore his hair longer than the usual military crop that even many of the civilians had adopted in recent decades.

"No, they won't do that," he said in confidence. "This… conference is as important for them as it is for us. They won't endanger the negotiations at such an early stage – not before they had even begun – by such a minor technicality. They may wonder why we've insisted on having the Enterprise host the conference, but they'll cooperate – for the time being."

Tebok nodded in agreement. It was a very Federation thing to do.

"May I ask a question, Rekkhai?" he then asked; and at the simple nod of the Praetor, he continued. "Why do we insist on the Enterprise being the location of this conference? A Galaxy-class starship is more than a mach for our Warbirds; to extricate you from the Starbase itself in case of an emergency would be much easier."

"It would also be easier for t'Radaik to have me assassinated," tr'Khellian replied dryly. "It may still count as a dishonourable act, but when did the Tal Shiar care about honour? Besides, even if they got caught and publicly shamed for it, I'd still be dead, wouldn't I? And in the current phase of our long-term plans my role is still too crucial to afford getting killed."

Tebok didn't ask any questions about the plans mentioned. He did not need to. He was one of the very few loyal retainers who knew them all.

The plans for the most immediate trade negotiations that enabled them to contact the Federation in the first place.

The plans behind those plans, aiming for a possible military alliance with the Federation, and even the Kll'inghann(15) that – as much as he hated the mere thought of it – might be needed against the new, unknown and disturbingly powerful enemy that apparently made no distinction whose outposts it annihilated.

And the plans behind the plans behind the plans; a secret so deep and so dangerous that he preferred not to think about them. Not even when he was alone in his quarters. A secret that no-one dared to speak of, unless in cautiously phrased allusions that only a selected few insiders would understand.

So yes, tr'Khellian's chance to be assassinated was fairly good in every phase of each level of those plans. The trick was to prevent an association before he would have played his role in the whole intricate game to its end. For his role was of a very special nature. A role in which he couldn't be simply replaced, as his unique abilities – paramount for the success of the plans, if there was any success to have – were as rare as a snowy day on Vulcan.

"In what way would you be safer aboard the Enterprise, though?" Tebok asked doubtfully. "Their tactical officer is a Kll'inghann; and quite a few crewmembers lost family in the Tomed Incident."

"So have our people; and unlike the Lloan'na(16), we actually know the ugly truth about the Tomed Incident," the Praetor replied with a shrug. "It doesn't matter. The Lloan'na are clearly desperate to make this conference a success, and the Enterprise is a controlled environment; much more than a Starbase of the size of 39-Sierra. And Captain Picard is known to have successfully hosted delicate diplomatic meeting before. He even managed to settle a dispute between the Gemarians and the Dachlyds(17) which, according to my brother, could easily have escalated into an interplanetary war."

Tebok nodded. He knew about the incident. The planet Gemaris V was in a star system fairly close to the Neutral Zone – in galactic terms – and its inhabitants, as well as their planetary neighbours, the Dachlyds, were know for their stubborn and aggressive nature. Getting them to agree about anything must have been an impressive feat and spoke highly of the diplomatic skills of the human officer.

"But that's not the only reason, is it?" he asked quietly. "There's more behind this, isn't there?"

"Isn't there always?" tr'Khellian replied with a tight smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You have read the crew manifest of that ship, haven't you?"

Tebok nodded. "They have people on board that can prove useful for the long-term plans, I assume."

"Au'e!(18)" tr'Khellian said emphatically.

Tebok gave the matter some thought. "One of the Vulcans or the Betazoid?" he then asked.

"Half-Betazoid," the Praetor corrected. "There might be others, too. I won't know until I've met them in person."

"Which would put you at great risk… on several different levels," Tebok warned. Not that tr'Khellian wouldn't know that. But doing so made him feel better.

The Praetor shrugged. "I know. It can't be helped. But I'm not completely helpless, as you know; and I'll take Aidoann with me, just in case. That has to be enough."

It wasn't, not even taking t'Luin's unparalleled skills in unarmed combat into consideration, and they both knew that. But they didn't have any other choice. The stakes were too high.

"Anything else I can do to help?" Tebok finally asked.

Tr'Khellian gave him another one of those tight smiles. "Au'e! You can keep the Tal Shiar off my back. Even if it means ridding yourself of your second-in-command. It might come to that, you know. T'Radaik keeps her retainers on a very tight leash."

Tebok nodded unhappily. "I know. And I will act without hesitation, if I have to. It would still be a shameful waste, though. Tr'Annwhi is a very competent officer. I would hate to lose him."

"Your loyalty towards your subordinates in amendable," the Praetor said coldly. "Make sure it won't clash with the loyalty you owe to our House. Now, leave me alone! I need to think."


In her underground office, stated in the otherwise fairly insignificant town i-Ramnau on ch'Rihan, Khre'riov(19) Jaeih i-Mnaeha t'Radaik was pondering over the latest report of her subordinates with a disapproving frown on her flawless face.

The current Deputy Director of the infamous Tal Shiar was rather young for such an important position. A position that she achieved due to her high intelligence, diligent work and a ruthless nature that counted as exceptional even among Tal Shiar officers who'd made ruthlessness an art form.

A ruthlessness no-one would have expected from her at first sight.

She was the classical Vulcanoid beauty rarely found among the Rihannsu in these days, after millennia of being separated from the main gene pool of the mother race: tall, whipcord thin, with broad shoulders and small, firm breasts. Her face was jus a hint sharp-featured with high, exotic cheekbones, a fine, proud scimitar of a nose, very delicate forehead ridges and wide, deep blue eyes.

She had a thick mane of jet-black hair, which she wore long, in blatant disregard of military regulations, twisted into a tight knot on the top of her head. But, of course, regulations were for the regular military. A high-ranking officer of the Tal Shiar could expect allowances, unless he or she was assigned to a starship on active duty.

The same was true for wearing a military uniform. T'Radaik never wore one if she could avoid it. The current uniform tunics were drab and shapeless, with their exaggerated shoulder pads; the shortened uniform trousers an insult to anyone with the slightest hint of a refined taste, and the boots reminded her of the ancient rubber footwear Terran fishermen had used while on sea, centuries ago.

She preferred the form-fitting black Tal Shiar uniform with its versatile utility belt, in which one could store just about everything, from an astoundingly broad scale of weapons through scanning devices and data rods down to emergency rations. Her utility belt was currently draped over the left arm of her chair, and she was wearing tailor-made, low-heel black boots to her uniform.

A low, melodic sound – audible for keen Vulcanoid ears only – alerted her to an incoming call.

"Ta'rhae!" she said softly, and the virtual screen obediently popped up in front of her.

She allowed herself a faint, content smile. These holographic screens were relatively new technology; an achievement in which the Rihannsu had managed to beat Federation science. They were handy and amazingly accurate; as if her assistant, K'haeth t'Viaen, had been sitting across her desk, instead of 'holding the fort' for her in the capitol, as the Terrans would say.

"Hanfiv'ran!(20)"s he said.

"Daise'riov(21) tr'Tal wants to consult you, Khre'riov," t'Viaen reported dutifully, her voice and her expression carefully neutral.

Nonetheless, the warning came through with utmost clarity.

The Daise'riov was the Director of the Tal Shiar, bearing the same military rank as t'Radaik, but he was a generation older and one position higher up. Basically the most powerful man of the Empire; the only one who could order t'Radaik around. Which, being an intelligent man, he rarely did. He knew she was best when left to work independently.

This was an exception, and like all unexpected events, it made her extremely wary. As she wasn't aware of having made any mistake, her superior probably wanted an update. A personal one; one that could not been overheard. So she'd have to go to the capitol. No channel was secure enough for the things they discussed in private.

"See to it that my meetings get rescheduled," she ordered her assistant, but something in the younger woman's non-expression startled her. "What is it?"

"You won't need to leave, Khre'riov," t'Viaen said, her face unusually pale for somebody who worked for the Deputy Director of the Tal Shiar and was privy to things that would make strong men shake in their boots. "The Daise'riov has already left by his own vessel and will arrive in i-Ramnau shortly."

T'Radaik felt her stomach clench painfully. This was a first. As far as she knew tr'Tal had never left Headquarters before just to check on one of his subordinates. Which was the reason why she'd chosen to establish her own centre of activities in i-Ramnau – aside from the act that she'd grown up in the town and knew it inside out. It gave her a feeling of safety – as much as it was possible on ch'Rihan.

And now tr'Tal was coming here. T'Radaik still wasn't aware of any mistake made in recent times; but that didn't mean there wouldn't be anything her superior would see as a mistake. The higher one had risen in the ranks of the Tal Shiar, the deeper and more abrupt the fall could be, should one have lost the trust of one's superiors.

Well, that couldn't be helped now. She'd learn what this was about as soon as tr'Tal arrived and not a siuren(22) before.

"Mnekha(23)," she said, dismissing her assistant who couldn't have done anything to help her, sitting thousands of miles away in the capitol as she was – and needed there.

Then she instructed the computer to alert him as soon as the Daise'riov arrived and reached for the reports again. Whatever would happen in the next hours, she still had work to do.


In many things Daise'riov Che'srik Tal was very different from his fellow Rihannsu. To begin with, he belonged to the small minority of ranking military officers who hadn't come from a noble House. He had worked through the ranks to reach his current position on his own, which few officers could say about themselves.

Nor was he ashamed of his simple origins. Although he had earned the privilege of founding a House of his own (which he did) and was therefore entitled to the ennobled version of his name (it would have been Che'srik ei-Brel'kar tr'Tal then) he never bothered to use it. When asked – and few people were foolish enough to do so – he simply answered that the old name had been good enough for his father and grandfather and it would serve him just fine, too.

He was also one of the very few who used their family name in their dealings with foreigners. His family followed a small, isolationist philosophical school that stated that one's call-name was the essence of one's personality and thus it should be kept within the closest family, and he frequently quoted this axiom.

In truth, he didn't base his decision on this philosophy at all. Tal was a short and easy name, simple and unburdened. Che'srik, on the other hand, was a name from ancient legends, and with such names came always a great responsibility, with which he didn't want to burden himself. Besides, most people (even the average Rihannsu) couldn't pronounce it properly; and false pronunciation always tended to attract bad luck to one's name.

Yes, he was a slightly bit superstitious, like most people originating from the Lesser Meres, thank you. It was nobody's business, was it?

The one thing in which he wasn't different from his fellow Rihannsu was his looks. The man who entered t'Radaik's office was the typical Vulcanoid male from the previous century; before the beginning of the genetic experiments that, in the end, resulted in the development of the distinctive, V-shaped forehead ridges that emphasized the arched eyebrows of the two most recent generations.

In tr'Tal's youth Rihannsu isolationism had not yet gone far enough to create visible physical differences from the mother race, just to make a point. And, unlike most career officers, he refused the surgical alterations later on.

"What counts is within," he used to say. "I don't need cosmetics to show that I'm not a bloodless grass eater from Vulcan. My deeds speak for me."

Since that was very true, after a while his superiors left him alone. And when he'd risen to the chair of the Director of the Tal Shiar no-one could tell him what to do ever again.

No-one would dare.

He came into t'Radaik's office in civilian clothes and without ceremony: a tall, willowy male in that indefinite age all Vulcanoids showed after growing out of their first youth yet before entering the final phase of their natural lives.

T'Radaik happened to know that he'd passed a hundred and thirty-five – counted in Federation Standard, which even the Rihannsu had taken over, as the two homewords had different rotation cycles and because all other races did the same; it made it easier to deal with each other – but by the sight of him, he could have been of any age between eighty and a hundred and eighty.

His short, curly brown hair was barely greying, but his narrow face did show that elusive hint of hardness often seen by people beyond their first century and that had nothing to do with the person's nature or actual job. His deep-set eyes were hazel and very observant, with only a few fine wrinkles in the corners.

T'Radaik rose in respect when she saw him enter.

"Daise'riov, aefvadh(24)," she said politely. "Your presence honours me."

"And makes you extremely uncomfortable, no doubt," Tal replied in his typical, direct manner. "No need for that; this is not an investigation. I merely wanted to discuss our current problem with you in private; and knew the risk of being overheard would be much lesser here than in the capitol," he gave her a grim smile. "It does have a distinct disadvantage being surrounded by highly competent, ruthless spies, don't you think?"

Her training – and having grown up in a very formal patrician family – prevented t'Radaik from deflating in relief like one of those decadent Terran field mattresses when punctured. (How such a race of decadent hedonists could have risen to a leading position within the Federation was still beyond her.)

This was just business as usual, then. Good. With work she could deal. In her work she always excelled. That was how she'd reached her current position.

Their current problem was the planned conference on the Federation side of the Neutral Zone, of course. The so-called trade negotiations House s'Khellian had managed to manipulate the Tricameron into joining.

She knew, of course, that it had been merely an excuse. House s'Khellian had been subtly working towards closer ties with the mother race since the Tomed Incident – and the most recent, unprovoked and brutal attack from a third, so far unknown party, had given them the chance to make their first move.

It was a dangerous precedence, but the Tal Shiar had to be careful with their counteraction. M'ret, the hru'hfirh of House s'Khellian, had just risen to the office of Daisemi'in – the Terrans translated it as proconsul – an office that had not been filled for a very long time and the purpose of which was to balance things between the Senate and the Praetorate, giving him special powers no politician had possessed for at least a hundred years.

With the additional influence of his wealthy and ancient House, that made tr'Khellian a dangerous adversary. Perhaps the most dangerous one since the rise of the Tal Shiar.

Knowing that t'Radaik understood their precarious situation, Tal simply sat down to her desk.

"Show me the reports," he said.


Millions of miles away, on the second homeworld, ch'Havran, Daisemi'in M'ret ei-Leinarrh tr'Khellian – known to his selected few Federation contacts simply as Proconsul M'ret – was standing on the balcony of his family's ancient home in the Eilairiv mountains and looked down at the purple meads of Airissuin. The sight of the untamed beauty of his home always helped to set his mind at ease, enabling him to order his thoughts into tight patterns that allowed him to see the bigger picture.

If ever, he really needed to stay sharp and attentive right now. The plans towards which his House had been working since the first contact with the Federation two hundred years ago had finally begun to move. Any mistake now, no matter how small or insignificant-looking, would be fatal.

Because his enemies, the old rivals of House s'Khellian, were watching, too, waiting for their choice to bring his family down. Some of them, like House s'Radaik, had been waiting for centuries. The Rihannsu were a patient people. Patient and long-living.

And then there were other enemies. The Tal Shiar and its plebeian yet highly dangerous Director above all else. Tr'Tal had been the stoutest defender of the isolationist policy and the steadiest voice that called for war against the Federation, ever since Éodouin had lost the flagship of the Galae(25) to the Terran Kirk and his Vulcan First Officer, Spock.

Éodouin had been stripped of her rank for that tactical error – and of her name, too, never to be spoken again, because her enemies (House s'Radaik before all) had managed to present her mistake to the Praetorate as an act of treason.

House s'Khellian had not interfered on her behalf; doing so would have brought their ruin as well. Tr'Tal, with the blind loyalty of a plebeian, did not understand the subtle rules of the power game. He still blamed the Federation as well as House s'Khellian for Éodouin's fate.

Tr'Khellian wondered if t'Radaik knew that she, too, was likely considered by tr'Tal as an enemy, together with her entire House. She probably did.

An understandable mistake from one lowly born, but dangerous on a much wider scale if that person rose to great power and still followed a personal vendetta. As the Director of the Tal Shiar tr'Tal could – and most likely would – sabotage the negotiations. Or, at the very least, he would try… and that had to be prevented, at any costs.

It would be a foolish act that could harm the Empire greatly, but the Rihannsu – unlike their Vulcan cousins – were a passionate people. Tr'Tal would work against any possible cooperation with the Federation with the same single-minded intensity that hat enabled him to found a House of his own and to rise in power like no-one of common birth had done for a very long time.

He was a capable man and an exceptionally strong-willed one. M'ret regretted not having him as an ally. But everyone had the right to follow their own interpretation of mnhei'sahe, even if it resulted in complete ruin. M'ret was determined to see that it would be tr'Tal's ruin, not that of his own House.

A barely audible shuffling of feet alerted him to the arrival of his personal assistant, a petite, dark-haired beauty with the liquid eyes of a Terran deer and delicate hands that could kill a grown man in thirty different ways in half a siuren.

"Ie, Arrhae?" he asked, a little impatiently.

She wouldn't disturb his thinking process, unless something of importance had happened. She handed him a holographic notebook.

"The newest reports, Rekkhai," she said in her low, melodic voice. "The Ra'kholkh has crossed the Neutral Zone and established visual contact with the Federation flagship. No effort of communication has been made so far, from either side."

"Estimated time of physical contact?" M'ret asked.

"Six standard days sixteen hours, Rekkhai," she replied. "The Enterprise approaches Starbase 39-Sierra at high warp. Save any unexpected delays, they'll come into physical contact within the week."

M'ret nodded thoughtfully. Things were going according to plan so far; but the real gambit wouldn't start until his brother was allowed to set foot on the Starfleet ship. In any case, at the moment there was nothing he could do to speed up things in this particular corner of the game board. He could afford to turn his attention to the long-term efforts that still needed some refined detail work.

"Have you contacted Deihu Pardek?" he asked.

Arrhae nodded. "Only a regular check, of course. Things are going according to plan on his end as well. The ship will be launched at the appointed time. Otherwise he chose to lie low for a while, as to not draw too much attention."

"Llilla'hu(26)," M'ret said. "Keep him under tight surveillance, just in case. He appears too eager for my comfort; and he's been far too visible lately. Go now and send me in N'vek. It's time we begin planning the next move."

~TBC~


Translation of Rihannsu (Romulan) terms:

(1) Ra'kholkh = Avenger, a popular name for Romulan starships

(2) hwaeyiir = the flight bridge of a starship, as opposed to the oira, the battle bridge

(3) Fvillaih = Praetorate (see: Fvilla =Praetor)

(4) Rihannsu = Romulan (a Romulan person is called a Rihannha)

(5) Lloann'mrahel = the Federation (literally: "those from there")

(6) ch'Havran = Remus, the less important one of the twin homewords. Romulus is called ch'Rihan

(7) Tricameron = the legislative-executive body of the Romulan government, consisting of the Senate and the Praetorate

(8) Rekkhai = Sir

(9) Hrafirh'rau! = Let me/us see it!

10)Ta'rhae! = Screen on!

(11) Ri'lae fv'htaiell, Erei'riov = the Romulan equivalent of "Take the conn, Subcommander!"

(12) Ssuaj-ha! = Understood! – as addressed to a superior

(13) Deihu = Senator (literally: Eldest)

(14) Auethn! = Advise me!/Inform me! (literally: answer the question)

(15) Kll'inghann = the Klingon people

(16) Lloan'na = slang for "the Feds"

(17) Canonically, this event happened several seasons later; I moved it forward to prove Picard's diplomatic skills.

(18) Au'e! = Oh, yes! (empathically, as opposed to the simple "Yes", which would be Ie)

(19) Khre'riov = commander-general

(20) Hnafiv'ran! = Let me hear it!

(21) Daise'riov = Chief Commander

(22) siuren = minute

(23) Mnekha! = good, satisfactory, correct, as said from superior to inferior. In this case it means "All right!"

(24) Aefvadh! = Be welcome!

(25) Galae = Fleet, most specifically space fleet. Lloannen'galae = Federation fleet or battle group.

(26) Llilla'hu = That will do.