Nearly 45 minutes had passed, and there was no word from the Sword of Lycurgas. The mammoth vessel just hung in space, like a wounded lion. But, this lion was healing before their eyes, and was, in all likelihood going to show itself to be the single most powerful starship in the quadrant, and possibly beyond that. Friendly enough, at first communication.

But they had said they'd get back to the Enterprise shortly, and deviation from the protocol was very undiplomatic. But then, the communication hadn't gone like a first contact exchange at all. The Brother-Captain had spoken courteously, but had expressed no curiosity. Indeed, hadn't really commented on the contact at all, save to say hello, and inquire as to the location.

Picard pondered the rank. Brother-Captain. Captain could mean a number of different ranks, even within human military structures. A captain would be a relatively low rank in the army, but a relatively senior one in the navy. The presence of the "brother" prefix implied some sort of monastic or religious leanings.

"Sir, Commander Ryalak is ready to beam aboard."

Picard looked over at Captain Keenan, on his left. The man shrugged. Picard's call. He pushed a button on the arm of his command chair.

"Acknowledged. Have security escort him to my ready room. Respectfully. He is an ally, at the moment, and we will treat him as such."

"Aye, sir."

Picard looked back at Keenan.

"Shall we prepare to meet him, then?"

"Yes, Jean-Luc, I think we should."

"Commander Yee, Commander T'Marid, if you'll join us in the ready room."

Commander Ryalak and Centurion Ree arrived a couple of minutes later. Picard stood and offered his hand to the Romulan commander. He looked at it for a couple of seconds, then looked Picard in the eye as he took it. Picard spoke as they did so.

"Commander Ryalak. Again, I wish we could have met under less pressing circumstances."

"Yes, Picard. You are a near legend, on Romulus. Either famous, or infamous, it's sometimes hard to tell which. But a legend, for all that. This is my science officer, Centurion Ree."

The Romulan indicated gave a curt nod to the four federation officers. The atmosphere was somewhat surreal. Romulan and Federation officers didn't just cordially beam over and start talking about how to resolve a problem. It was, in fact, almost unheard of. But it was happening.

Although, admittedly the circumstances under which it WAS happening were a little unusual. Ships didn't pop into existence on a regular basis. And ships like the Sword were one of a kind, also.

"If you'll join us at the table, Commander Ryalak, we can begin. There's a great deal to cover."

The six men sat down, and five of them turned their gazes to Picard. Not that that was unexpected, but he could not help the feelings that the burden of responsibility brought. And few of them were pleasant.

"First things first, lets collate what is known about this ship and its crew. Specifically, and perhaps most interestingly, the ship is human in design."

Centurion Ree was quick to respond.

"So what sort of Federation plot is this then, Picard?"

"Centurion. Remember yourself" Ryalak interjected.

The Romulan's subordinate clamped his mouth shut, but his glare remained in place. His voice was stilled, but his question stood. It would have to be addressed. Keenan began.

"Now wait just one damn minute, here. There is no way you can even think that…"

"Captain, please. The Centurion's question needs to be answered."

The senior captain turned to address the whole room. The emotions on each face were markedly different. Centurion Ree, hostile and distrustful. Commander T'Marid, cautiously optimistic. Keenan, impatient, but curious. Yee, patient and calm. Ryalak… something else.

"Centurion Ree, while your concern is entirely understandable, it is misplaced. Note that I said human, not Federation."

The two Romulan officers glanced at each other with identical raised-eyebrow-bearing expressions. Picard would have smirked if the situation hadn't been tense.

"The crew of that ship is 99 per cent human. With approximately one hundred non-human life-signs. The non-human lifesigns are of an unknown species. Their lifesigns read similarly to Klingon ones."

Keenan and T'Marid looked thoughtful. They hadn't yet been briefed on this.

"Further, I think we're all in agreement that that vessel is a combatant. As I have discussed with my crew, there are too many obviously militant features for it to be anything but."

Commander Ryalak once again spoke up.

"Captain, what is there to assume that a militant group has not captured another races' ship, and is using it for whatever purpose they have devised. It would not be the first time such a thing has happened."

Picard smiled ruefully. Wouldn't that be nice… then Commander T'Marid answered, the Trill officer displaying a surprising grasp of human history.

"The ship is practically covered in iconography from several periods of Earth's pre-warp history. The runes on the hull, the pictograms on the bow, the style of architecture. The layout of the thing. If it isn't human, it's the best imitation I think I've seen. The pictograms and painted emblems, sure, a religious group could do that. But the whole thing looks like a space-going temple. The refit work would be too intensive to be practical. That's a human ship, Centurion. Not Federation. Human."

"How do we know it's not some elaborate Federation attempt to undermine the Empire?"

An incensed Ryalak roared back.

"CENTURION. You will hold your tongue or return to the Minnkash'Maen. I will not tolerate disrespect to our hosts."

Picard responded lightly, almost chuckling, but not quite.

"Commander Ryalak, Centurion Ree, if that was a Federation ship, we'd have no need to be subtle at all. Number one, if you'd share the technical details with our guests."

Commander Yee nodded once to his commanding officer, then began speaking. His basic was fractionally accented, with his oriental roots flavouring his grasp of English slightly.

"The vessel has been identified to us as the Sword of Lycurgas. For reference, Lycurgas was an ancient human warrior who codified a series of laws for use by a human military-state, nearly three thousand years ago. The ship does not match any design specifications or records found in any Federation technical archives, and I'm assuming the same on the Romulan side.

The Sword of Lycurgas is eighteen kilometres long, and sweeps of the hull indicate that it is close to four thousand years old. The hull is composed of several distinct materials, including a petro-steel derivative, a ferro-crete based substance, and adamantium. In fact, there is a great deal of adamantium on that ship. There is more adamantium on that ship than has ever been located in one place, before."

What Commander Yee didn't say was that he seriously doubted the Federation had enough adamantium within its borders to build a ship that size.

"It has weapons, of that we are sure, but they have yet to be revealed to us, and are not of any recognised design. Scans have been unable to pick up any numbers or throughput/output calculations with any degree of certainty, as the technology they're using is very different to that which we are used to."

Yee stood, and walked over to a part of the wall of the ready room, and pressed some buttons.

"Computer, lights to 25 percent. Show schematics, Sword of Lycurgas."

The projector turned on, showing a 3D representation of the warship, rotating slowly along its Y-axis.

"Increase projection size, 50 percent, indicate launch bays".

The projection grew in size, and four areas of the ship began flashing red. Yee began again.

"As far as we can tell, these areas here are launch pads, shuttle bays, or something of that nature. The main doors to those bays, as far as we are able to ascertain, are in the order of fifteen metres high, and approximately eighty metres wide. They are located, as you can see, spaced along the line of the hull, along both the port and starboard sides."

He gave his audience time to digest that information, then continued.

"Computer, display probable-command centre"

A flashing blue light appeared on the high aft of the Sword.

"This is what we believe to be the bridge. It is very prominent, and we believe heavily armoured as well as shielded. There are also, as you can see, a great deal of protrusions from many points along the hull, and several larger than most. We believe that many of the larger ones are weapons, but this is hypothetical."

Another voice command, and the rear of the Sword was highlighted in electric blue.

"Engines. Their power is unknown."

He shut down the projection.

"The greatest note so far, as I'm sure you're all aware, is the vessel's shields. They are sizeable. Behind those shields, that vessel is all but impervious to our weaponry."

He paused again, eyes roving across his audience.

"There are twelve thousand, four hundred and fifteen lifesigns aboard. One hundred and twelve are non-human. Both figures have fallen since first contact was made. We do not know, but we estimate that they were casualties that did not survive."

There was a three-second silence before Ryalak spoke.

"Our scans were unable to penetrate the vessel's hull. Are you certain of those numbers?"

Picard answered for his subordinate.

"As certain as we can be, Commander. We don't know what technology this group is utilising, so we can't be certain that there aren't more aboard. Nor can we, more importantly, be certain of their intentions."

T'Marid looked like he was about to interject, but Picard kept going.

"They have claimed a navigational error. It's certainly within the bounds of possibility, but not altogether likely. I don't even remember the last recorded instance of a starfleet vessel just plain getting lost. And aside from a number of instances along the neutral zone, I'd wager the same thing with regard to Romulan vessels."

Everyone at the table, Romulan and Federation, chuckled at that. There was no politics here. And Picard found himself quietly wandering why the entente between the United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire had taken so long to manifest. But no matter. They were thoughts for another time.

"Needless to say, their actual intentions remain unknown. I'd like to say we'll handle it when we find out… but, in all honesty I don't know that we can."

Picard's words hung in the room. No one had admitted it yet. No one had wanted to admit it. But that hadn't changed the fact of the matter. The three ships that the Federation-Romulan task force had between them were hopelessly outgunned.

"I propose to send a message to Starfleet, informing them of the magnitude of this situation, and its possible repercussions. I intend to request that command hold a fleet in reserve to respond if this situation spirals out of control."

Picard turned and looked straight at Ryalak, piercing eyes boring straight past all of the Romulan commander's mental defences and conveying the hidden urgency behind Picard's words.

"I request that you make the same request of Romulus, Commander."

Releasing Ryalak from his eyeshot, he addressed the rest of the room once again.

"Until I receive word from Starfleet, I will attempt to ascertain the motivations of this 'Brother-Captain', and what he intends to do with that ship of his. Any questions or comments?"

The room was again quiet for a couple of seconds, before, perhaps predictably, Ryalak spoke.

"Captain Picard, I must inform you that there is no guarantee that Romulus will agree to send more ships. The political situation is… delicate. Praetor Donatra… is finding that she feels more comfortable maintaining fleets closer to Romulus than many of her predecessors. Without a directly manifesting threat to the Empire, she may choose not to intervene."

The silence around the table suddenly became far, far, far more awkward. Ryalak couldn't have dropped more of a bombshell if he had asked Picard if he could sell the Enterprise to a Ferengi. Ryalak had just, in one sentence, illustrated a fact that could alter the balance of power in the Alpha Quadrant.

Praetor Donatra, former captain of the Valdore, had the distinguished position as first female Praetor of the Romulan Star Empire, and was well known for her generally positive stance towards the Federation. Her rise to power was based upon her success at combating the Reman uprising that had previously swept Praetor Shinzon to power. That she had quelled the Reman uprising with Federation assistance, and had fought alongside Federation forces at the Battle of Bassen Rift, worked both for and against her on Romulus. It would seem that the balance remained fairly precarious. THAT was unfortunate news for the Federation. Praetor Donatra was widely regarded as the best thing for Federation relations since the Khitomer Accords. Her replacement would be a huge blow to Federation interests… and quite possibly to Romulan attempts to interact amicably with the rest of the universe.

She knew it. Her supporters knew it.

And now the Federation knew just how dire her position was, if one of her supporters had been forced to admit that she may not be able to spare the ships to fight for her allies.

That meant complications. Without Romulan assistance, the Federation would have to handle the situation on its own… with the Minnkash'Maen as token Romulan assistance. Hawks within the Federation Cabinet would want to use this as an excuse not to allow the Romulans access to any positive outcomes from the presence of the Sword of Lycurgas. That, in turn, would undermine Praetor Donatra's position further, and undercut the gradually building groundswell of support for the Federation amongst the Romulan citizenry in the aftermath of both the Reman coup and the earlier Dominion War.

Picard pursed his lips. Why was nothing ever easy? The Federation would work, and possibly fight, to obtain as much information on the Sword of Lycurgas as possible, and then they would likely hand it over to the Romulans. He frowned some more. In all likelihood, Picard would petition that they do just that.

A soft smile broke over his face, dispelling the frown that had so recently grown there. Who would have thought it? He, Jean-Luc Picard, as a proponent for handing over technology to the Romulans.

But there it was. The Romulans were unlikely to provide much by the way of support, and, while Picard regretted the fact, he couldn't fault the Praetor's reasoning. He'd do it with whatever he could.

But who knew? Maybe the Sword would be just fine in a couple of hours to days, would leave and return to wherever they came from, and nothing would come of it except some very strange reports going across Admiral Janeway's desk.

'Of course'. Picard thought to himself, sarcastically. 'A ship with twelve thousand humans on board appears in the middle of the neutral zone, and Starfleet will choose to ignore it and let its revolutionary technology float off into the ether'.

"Were she to choose not to intervene, Commander, then we would of course accept that, and hold true to our word. A discovery of this magnitude could have wondrous or calamitous consequences. Either way, all of the Federation would prefer a relaxed and co-operative Empire to a hostile one. Please, pass on my regards to the Praetor, when you speak to her."

Ryalak nodded his head once, a curt, dignified motion that spoke volumes about the common ancestry between Romulans and Vulcans.

"I shall, Captain. In the meantime, how can I, and my ship, be of best service?"

Another first. They were coming too think and fast to be noteworthy any more.

"To a large extent, that, and our own decisions, will be based on Starfleet's response, and whether or not the Sword of Lycurgas gets back to us at all. In the meantime, I'll have Lieutenant Brennaman send a situation report to Starfleet. If you could let Romulus know, in any case, Commander, that'd be a big help. We'll take whatever we can get, on the off chance that she can spare anything. Broadly, we can only wait."

Commander Ryalak nodded again, and Picard looked at the faces around the table. Even the moderately hostile Centurion appeared to have been placated somewhat.

"If that's all, gentlemen, then lets get back to work."

They rose from their seats and moved for the door. Picard spoke again.

"Commander Ryalak, if you have a moment…"

Ryalak dipped his head, and turned to Centurion Ree.

"Return to the Minnkash'Maen. Call a conference of the senior officers. I'lol backbrief them myself, when I return."

"It shall be as you say, Commander."

The centurion turned on his heel and walked out briskly, his discomfort at being on the Federation vessel plain to see. Ryalak turned to Picard once more. It was Picard that spoke first.

"Would you like a drink, Commander?"

Ryalak paused, a smile -or a smirk- playing on the edge of his mouth.

"Don't suppose you happen to have a Romulan ale, Captain?"

Picard chuckled. He should have guessed.

"Computer, tea, Earl Grey, hot, and a Romulan ale, authentication Picard x-ray tango three four eight seven echo."

"An authentication code required?"

"Romulan ale is substantially stronger than most of the drinks we allow on our ships, Commander. But I think this is an acceptable exception to the rules."

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

Picard went back to the table, and sat down, the Romulan commander taking a chair to his right and accepting the offered beverage.

"Commander, there isn't a great deal I would ask of you. Not a great deal that I CAN ask of you at the moment. But I just wanted to extend my thanks to you for being as accommodating as you have been."

Ryalak nodded slowly, then responded.

"Too many lives have been lost, Captain. Too many lives on both sides. Despite our frequent underhanded action, you have treated us with respect throughout our history, even while our two people fought. Praetor Donatra seeks an end to the cycle of mistrust. I concur with her objective. I hope that we can start something, here."

Picard looked at Ryalak with a fresh perspective, and more than a little hope. Who would have thought it? Then, he raised his teacup off the table, and gestured to the Romulan with it.

"To a new future."

The Romulan's face split into a rarely seen true smile, and he lifted his glass to Picard in return.

"To a new future, indeed."