Fred looked with concern at Catères

Fred looked with concern at Catères. He put a supporting arm behind her as she set up on one arm. The Reman looked around at each of them as her eyes seemed to clear. She looked up at him and gave him a very human nod.

"I am…better," she said. Dominique started up.

"Take it easy, partner," Watson cautioned. She reassured him that she was okay. He asked her what happened.

"I don't know," Catères answered. "I felt a sudden sharp pain in my head and then…then it felt as if I lost control and then I remember looking up and seeing all of you."

Watson looked around at Micah Brack and Commodore Stiles. He had heard stories about the legendary billionaire. He wasn't surprised to see him here. Right now Fred wouldn't be surprised if President Thorpe showed up with the Romulan praetor, so fouled was this situation with conflicting loyalties. He looked back down at Dom.

"How is your…radar?" he asked her.

Rather than reply verbally she looked at each of them in turn. She froze when she got to Brack. Watson leveled his rifle at him until Catères reached up and told him it was alright. Dom continued looking at the industrialist.

"How…," she left the question open.

Brack hung his head. "I wish that I knew."

"What are you two…?" Watson asked. He was confused and didn't like that.

Catères looked away from Brack. "It is nothing Fred. Mister Brack is himself as is the commodore."

"Who are you?" Stiles asked. Her voice held suspicion and surprisingly to Watson, authority; especially for one so young. He guessed that her nickname "Iron Maiden" was well earned.

"She's…gifted," Watson supplied. "Reed is not who…or what you think he is. I told you that he committed murders. You would find the rest hard to accept." He told Stiles about the geneticist who had been tortured and then gutted.

"You can prove that?" she asked him.

"Reed started his killing on Alpha Eridani," Watson told her. "I can offer you evidence."

"So you are just going to execute him?" Stiles asked. "I would have figured a law officer would be above that."

"I told you that there is more to Reed," Watson answered. He was frustrated but also understood that this Stiles was privy to only a small part of what was going on. He jumped as Catères tensed and pulled out her sidearm.

Watson spun on his knee and leveled his needler at the vault's hatch. Admiral Erica Soames stood in the doorway. Her pistol was at her side. Her helmet was off revealing her lank, greasy mop of hair. Fred reflected that spacesuits didn't exactly accommodate a person's vanity. Soames mopped at her face. The silence penetrated through the vault. Fred turned to see Dominique looking hard at the admiral.

"Nothing," Catères said at last.

"Reed…the drak'ha is dead," Soames announced. "The body is in there. You better examine it Miss Catères." Fred looked at the admiral, still unsure of her. Soames seemed to sense that for she handed her pistol, butt end first, to him.

Dominique scrambled to her feet and went into the vault. Brack followed her cautiously. Fred wanted to make sure that he asked the Reman what she had read in the billionaire. Watson stood back and listened while Soames told them of the final battle with Reed and how he had received a bullet in his brain. Catères emerged several minutes later with Brack.

"It is done," she announced.

"What is a…a drak'ha?" Stiles asked.

Stiles backed the shuttle out slowly. She thought of the vault and all that was in there. She remembered Reed's words to her. They had seemed pointless to Jocelyn until she had discovered a hastily written paper note balled up like garbage on the shuttle's deck. Stiles was sure that Reed had left nothing like that. Jocelyn maneuvered the shuttle while acquiring the Ptolemy on radar. Soames had discovered the old module's station keeping thrusters.

They had decided not to blow up the familiar comet. Soames had devised a plan where the module would be kicked out of the comet's tail and then safely destroyed several hundred kilometers away. Stiles wondered if Reed and the admiral hadn't had a secret arrangement. Her knowledge of navigation told her that Soames was taking up an odd angle to fire from. Stiles supposed that could be accounted for as a way to protect the freighter's occupants.

Jocelyn waited. She rotated the shuttle so that she could see the blast. The sight of the comet was momentarily replaced by a small sun. Stiles knew that the sensor net would be turned this way very soon. She accelerated at a rate that overcame the gravity web and pushed her hard back into her seat. She cut the impulse drive as she passed back through the tail of the ancient comet. The forward view pane changed to black space with cold hard points of light as she left the tail. Stiles gunned the impulse drive and made for the military training routes.

Local control was soon scanning her and verifying her route. She flipped on her comm and told the controller that she had scanned something strange. Stiles gave a location that would leave any prying eyes with nothing to see. She returned to her original course and grabbed a sandwich. Mars was almost twenty hours away. She had orders to return to command. Beagle was docked, repaired, rearmed and waiting. Stiles thought about what was next as she examined a holo that the Sinjan's camera had recorded as she had flown through the tail of the comet. The booster module was tucked neatly behind the comet where it had been.

Erica stepped out of the boat. The warm sea breeze blew through her hair. She looked toward the shore at Griffin's villa. It would be her new home. The water went past her ankles and soaked the bottom of her dress. It was warm. She waved to the taxi driver and threw her bag over her shoulder. He started his engine and turned the boat away. Soames walked onto the beach carrying her sandals in her hands.

Erica did not miss her uniform. The war was over. The federation had come about despite the knowledge of the Vulcan Romulan connection. Star Fleet Security augmented by Vulcan troops was on Romulus. It was no longer her time. Commander Frank McCoy was running intelligence. She had been pleased when the president had made Frank's rank permanent. He had the morals and good sense that the new Star Fleet needed. He would be busy with his new daughter, but still able to lead Star Fleet Security, she thought.

Soames had bid Frank and Kanya goodbye at their New Jersey home. They had moved there after the death of Carlson. The late professor had willed the augment his possessions. At least the old man had lived to see the birth of Julianne McCoy. Erica smiled. She was retired and she was home. Arnie stepped out onto his veranda and waved. She smiled and waved back. Soames tried to recall their net conversation from last night. She seemed to be forgetting a lot lately.

"You seem to be able to move about without being seem Mister Brack," Admiral Erica Soames told Micah Brack

"Let me guess, debonair playboy by day, spy by night," Fred Watson said to him.

"Let's just say that I'm a concerned citizen and let it go at that," Brack told him. Frank McCoy had told him that the agent could be trusted. He would have had more doubt about that except that his thoughts went back to the major.

Abberline was not a name that he had heard in quite some time. He had reflected on the Ripper several times during his long life. Brack had seen his share of murderous rampages before then. He had seen many after that. Even with the knowledge that he had accumulated over the ages he had sometimes wondered if there wasn't something to the ancient beliefs of demon possession. As Frederic Abberline he had seen his share of killings but nothing with the premeditation of Jack the Ripper. Jack had wanted to terrorize.

Now Brack finally understood why. The immortal had seen men do evil but these types of murders had always impressed him as something even darker. Inspector Abberline might have understood that something deeper was involved. That it was possession by an alien energy being was something he could not then have comprehended. He still found it hard to believe even now.

"Funny how you stayed hidden on this barge." Watson remarked. Micah could hear the suspicion. He had been on both sides of the law during his several thousand year long lifetime. "Or do you have a big 'S' on your chest and you just flew alongside?"

"I added his weight into the basic weight Fred," McCoy interjected. "That's why the admiral never even knew." McCoy turned in his seat and faced them. "I'm sorry. When I realized that there might be a showdown with this thing I told Brack about it. I figured that he had some kind of mental resistance. What do you mean a big 'S'?"

"From the twentieth, Frank," Brack explained, "a superhero, red cape, and tights?"

"Oh yeah," Frank said as he snapped his fingers. "The guy who used to crawl up walls like a spider; I seen a restored holovid of him."

He watched Watson shake his head and chuckle. Brack was pleased with the diversion. "It's all the same I guess," the detective said. He turned and looked at him. "I'll give you the same warning then: stop monkeying around with things! It took awhile and the help of some alien thing—sorry Dom; present company excepted, to catch you guys. But it won't take me long at all if you start up again."

Watson looked ahead to where Soames was programming in a course change and speaking to system traffic control. She finished and turned her seat to face Watson. Frank had told him about the Reman agent named Catères. She had given Soames and all of them a second going over. None of them were carriers. Still, Micah wondered about her last minutes with the drak'ha.

"I've had enough," Soames declared in a weak tone. "I wrestled a long time before I decided to do this. I'm sorry Frank, for involving you. The vault's gone, the thing in Reed is dead and The Sons' of Terra are on their way to extinction. I'm done."

"Agreed," Brack added.

The Katra of Mistral was returned to its rightful place. The Romulans on earth had been beaten. Micah realized that there could be sleeper cells but then again their space forces were being beaten back. He suspected that the Romulans had their hands full. Earth, Tellar and Andor's civilian security agencies all seemed to finally have a grip on internal security. Brack smiled as he thought of how Christophur Thorpe had compelled them all to act, but only with the maximum respect given to citizens' rights. When they had been ready to bow to fear Thorpe had made them stand against that. Brack knew that it was all too easy for leaders to succumb to the base elements in their societies.

"Can we at least get to together and barbecue sometime?" McCoy asked jokingly.

Brack looked around at all of them. He had lived this too many times. He knew, or sensed that these wayward companions would never see one another like this again. He read in each face that they were coming to the same conclusion. There was a long minute of silence.

"There's still a war to win," Soames stated. "We all have some work to do."

The third planet of the Zeta Reticuli system, Nov 2158

"Well you are British enough to be Allan Quatermain," Omar Bashir persisted. Captain Michael Cromwell sighed as he readied himself for another round of digs from the civilian. It didn't help when his staff played along with the doctor. But they were all paired off into separate groups.

"I've never shot an animal in my life," Cromwell said. That was strictly speaking not true. His father had taken him coney hunting. Neither Cromwell really liked the gamey meat. Michael had suspected that the main purpose of the hunting trip was an introduction to a celebration of manhood for him and an escape for his father from his mother's numerous chores.

"It's all in the mystique captain," Bashir said.

"You must have read a number of Haggard's book at any rate," Cromwell said. Bashir had adapted surprisingly well to ZR III's arboreal equatorial belt.

"I like the finer things captain but I've always fancied myself an outdoorsman." Bashir pushed a large leafy plant out of his path. A large multi legged furry creature scampered away from the base of a tree that they were walking past. They had learned that the little creatures were harmless, or at least not aggressive.

"It's a good thing but we should be nearing the city," Cromwell said.

The shuttle trip and subsequent insertion had taken almost a week. None of the shore party was looking forward to another week's passage in the shuttle's cramped quarters. They would have to do so Cromwell thought. He did not know what if anything they could accomplish here. But he had already discovered that the Romulans had three taskforces tied up here. He wondered why as the Reticulans that they had met didn't seem capable of mounting a ship to ship attack.

They had coasted in unpowered save for their suit mounted environmental systems. A series of meteor storms similar to earth's Leonids and a highly energized ozone layer had granted the shuttle some cover. Cromwell was still worried about their departure. They would need power to climb out of orbit. He hoped that his plan for escape would work.

"I'm rather surprised that we haven't seen any locals in the countryside," Bashir commented.

"The Birds probably gathered the conquered ZR's into the cities," Cromwell said. "It seems like a common practice, at least among our human tyrants. They can dictate the captive population's food and fuel supplies. When one is scrambling to eat and stay warm it is hard to speak of mounting a resistance."

Cromwell motioned for Bashir to seek cover. He had only just heard the roar of the aircraft. Michael threw himself down into the undergrowth. Off in the unnaturally blue sky two fast moving jet aircraft were make a low level pass. They dropped several small canisters that burst into white hot fore just before touching the ground. The jets performed a leisurely turn and passed nearly overhead Cromwell. He just made out the great raptors painted on the lower fuselages.

"I thought that you said that there weren't any native buildings out here," Bashir hissed.

"We did a good holo pass," Cromwell said. "In fact, the areas around the cities are remarkably clear of housing. There is nothing there—that we can see. Perhaps the natives have formed a resistance." He brought up his rifle when he heard a snap of a twig. Marcel Dieulafoy blundered into a path along with Mariel Picard. He admonished them both to get under cover. He waited several minutes and then crawled over to where Dieulafoy lay beneath a large shrub.

"You two had the high ground," Cromwell whispered. "Did you see what the Birds were bombing?"

"It was quite odd captain," Dieulafoy answered. "There are the remains of a road, perhaps vehicular. Neither I nor Mariel saw anything except for that. Could they have been practicing sir?"

"I suppose that that is one hypothesis," Cromwell said.

Doctor Trudy Schultheiss caught up to them. Cromwell had been against her acting as rear guard but she had served some time in the Marine component of the European Hegemony. She had wanted to do that. She knelt beside the small group. Cromwell told her about the strafing run.

"Yah, I saw that too," she remarked. Schultheiss shook her head. "If they are using that as a range then it is their first time. Either that or they don't bomb that often. It looked like they were using a phosphorous compound. That usually kills the flora for several months."

"Well, we are near the outskirts of the city," Cromwell remarked.

Indeed, the points of tall metallic spires, the first sign of the alien city, were just becoming visible on the horizon. Cromwell had been momentarily surprised that there was anything left. Then it had occurred to him that the natives had probably surrendered rather than be annihilated. He decided to stay put just in case the Romulan aircraft were looking for them. Cromwell guided them into a heavily wooded depression near a stream. They waited half an hour before proceeding.

"This water is mildly contaminated with industrial byproducts Herr Kapitan," Schultheiss told him. She had used the short stay to test the water. She discarded the contents of the test tube and reassembled her kit.

"We'll follow the stream," Cromwell announced. He studied an electronic map. "Your findings make sense doctor, as it leads into what looks like an industrial section of the city. I had hoped to enter near the more populated areas but this will do."

"I'm glad that you agree," Trudy said with a smile on her lips. "Wouldn't it be better to have went this way all along?"

They had started the final trek into the city. "I also saw visual evidence of something different there. The Zeta Reticuli aliens have a certain architecture and design. This appears different."

Cromwell hadn't gotten to brief them on everything. Dieulafoy had reviewed the charts and had agreed with Cromwell. They had both felt that the Romulans had a base in that sector of the city. He explained his findings to the rest of the shore party.

"We'll follow this into the eastern edge and then turn north," Cromwell said.

This world seemed peaceful. He almost said bucolic but he remembered academy lectures about early explorers who had thought that bout new worlds. The deadly Denevian tumbleslug had taken its first human casualty because an ensign had thought that the creature was cute. Cromwell was cautious about where he put his hands and where he stepped. They walked for almost two hours. It was hot and stuffy and Cromwell was sweating. A brief rain shower did not cool them and when the heat and humidity returned, it was with a vengeance. Cromwell held up a hand and stopped.

He heard rather than saw the heavy ground assault vehicle. It roared past the stand of trees where the shore party lay in concealment. Michael peeked out and spied a vehicle built of the same greenish hued metal as were Romulan warships. Several Romulan troops walked behind the massive, turreted vehicle. Rather than the golden helmets that they had seen on bodies from the cruiser Tan'geira these Romulans' helmets were covered in camouflaged netting concealing a dun coloring beneath.

Cromwell watched through binoculars as the soldiers spread out. He jumped as the vehicle's gun opened fire. The weapon sounded like some massive zipper being opened. The soldiers fired a combination of laser rifles and machine guns. Michael's initial fear turned to confusion. The Romulans were blazing away at a bare patch of ground. Several of the troops were weaving and firing as they went. One of them jerked as if he were hit. That caused the rest of them to plunge to the ground as if someone was firing at them. The vehicle's weapon turned the ground into a cloud of flying debris. The firing slowed and then stopped.

The vehicle commander rose out of the top turret and shouted orders. This was the first time that Cromwell had heard the Romulan tongue. It seemed smooth and somewhat relaxing. Michael found it hard to believe that its speakers were so warlike. The dust cleared and the soldiers converged upon the area where they had been shooting. They seemed to be looking at things on the ground. All Cromwell saw was blasted dirt. The Romulans gathered their fallen and slowly turned away and started an ordered march back from whence they had come. The humans waited in silence.

"Bombing no visible targets and now this," Cromwell said. Cromwell remembered his vision that the Zeta Reticuli aliens had bestowed onto him. He looked at Trudy and guessed that she was thinking the same thing.

"You are quite right captain," a strange voice announced. Cromwell spun around and unslung his rifle.

A single gray skinned alien stood before him. How the alien had arrived without being heard he did not know. The creature's large, black unblinking eyes lent a sinister quality to the creature. Cromwell wondered if the gray was indeed really there.

"I am here physically," the creature responded. The lack of a mouth on the alien made the whole thing more surreal. No wonder the grays had so frightened early man.

"We did not mean to frighten," the alien said, or rather thought. Cromwell wondered how the alien could deal with the flood of his thoughts. He felt an emotion that seemed close to humor.

"The Romulans," Bashir began. "They are fighting an insurgency that exists only in their minds."

"You are correct," the gray answered. "We have gone through your minds. We know that you encountered some of our race. We know that you too are at war with the Romulans."

Somehow Michael concluded that the gray alien's attention was turned upon him. "We could not oppose the Romulans because we could not counter their missile technology. They have subjugated a race called Remans. Some of those possess the mental prowess to defeat us. We have not fought a war in many of our lifetimes. We were unprepared for the Romulans. Had they not conquered us they would have bombed us from a distance away."

"Surely you knew that they were out there?" Cromwell asked.

"We studied them as we studied your race captain," the alien told them. "The last expedition to their system showed them to be in a period of consolidation. Their citizens were afforded many freedoms. Our scientists conjectured that they would grow past their aggressions. They were wrong." Once again Cromwell sensed humor and also a touch of sadness. "Our explorers also conjectured that humans would destroy themselves."

"A few more bombs and that would have been true," Picard said. "What is really going on here?"

"Our few surviving ships are spiriting the survivors away," the gray answered. "We were several billion when the Romulans came. It will take time for all to escape."

"This is your world," Cromwell said. He was angry at what he had heard or had thought at him. "Will you, capitulate world after world? You will be forever on the run."

"Soon we will be more," the gray answered. "This ephemeral existence means little to us. Some of my race can now journey across the universe with only their minds."

"But not all," Bashir said.

"Very astute doctor," the alien thought. "We are maintaining the illusion that the Romulans want to see. That saves those who have not progressed yet. Their aggression against your races has been a fortuitous circumstance for us. Our refugee ships have managed to slip by the Reman monitors and they have rescued almost a million of us. Before they engaged your forces they had three times as many ships with their Reman observers posted here."

"We had hoped to help you further," Cromwell said.

"And help your own cause as well, captain," the gray responded. Cromwell had hoped to do that but he would stand firm on ensuring that the ZR's safety. A sound or word popped into his mind. Michael realized that it was the alien's name for themselves.

"The Romulans won't expend anymore assets on this world," the gray explained, "unless there is a reason." Several more of the gray aliens entered the clearing.

The leader gray must have sensed Cromwell's concern. "We are safe here. Bentanex is the commander of the cohort that you just seen. As far as he is concerned his soldiers just ambushed one of our resistance cells."

"What of…what of their dead?" Picard asked.

"We study them and find those who have physical defects," the gray leader said. "One of those who died would soon have been dead from excessive alcohol consumption. The other one had a minor flaw in a blood vessel in his brain. He would probably have ceased unless he was near immediate medical help."

"You are caught in a lie," Cromwell said. He had thought of the whole scenario and some possible outcomes.

"We have maintained this pretense only through the most extraordinary of circumstances," the gray replied. "Once our world was occupied it quickly became an assignment for Romulan soldiers that had fallen out of favor. When their leader turned upon your races this quickly became a campaign that they wanted to forget. We could craft battles in their minds but once they returned to Romulus they communicated among themselves, discovered inconsistencies."

"How can we help?" Cromwell asked.

"We wish to spirit the weakest off world," the gray said. "We have a large fleet of what is left of our ships standing by to take on those individuals. It will not be many. Those who dwell on numbers reckon that it may be two of your centuries before all of us can be saved. The stronger will stay here. Some of us need technology to create the illusions and we have that here."

"Do you have enough left to engage their taskforces?" Cromwell asked. Rather than a reply he saw their force dispositions in his mind. Their ships, he figured were perhaps a generation ahead of those of men. He gasped as the gray projected specific details about their ships into his mind.

Rather than matter anti matter, the grays had developed a way to use an artificial quantum singularity. The power source was a recent development for the aliens. Cromwell was rather surprised that their maximum speed was only warp seven. The grays had reached the crossroad that man had faced. At that time they had had no enemies. Their ships therefore were lightly armed. The grays had designed their ships with exploration and trade in mind.

"We wish to use most of our ships for the rescue," the alien explained. "The Romulans have discovered a stellar phenomena." Cromwell saw a great passage that wound through space. "We shall use that to migrate to a faraway part of the galaxy. It will close very soon leaving the Romulans—or your races no chance to find us. Our race will then ascend."

"I can read that you wish us to stay and battle the Romulans," the alien thought at them. "Our race is older than yours. We are tired and ready for that which awaits us. We desire that you divert the Romulans long enough to save those who can't save themselves. When that is complete the Romulans will be shown a vision of us gradually beaten into submission. If your people defeat the Romulans as seems certain then perhaps we can accelerate our diaspora."

"What do you mean?" Both Cromwell and Dieulafoy asked almost simultaneously. If they knew anything about Romulan weaknesses then Cromwell wanted to hear it.

"It is a feeling in the minds of their legionnaires," the gray explained. "Their forces are ill supplied and demoralized. Bentanex has just received orders extending his tour here. His admiral has had to cannibalize two supply ships in order to maintain his warships."

"What can we do to help you?" Cromwell asked again.

"We know the ships that the Remans are on," the gray answered. "Follow us and we will lead you to a safe place where you may rest and take nourishment." Cromwell nodded at the rest of the shore party. They let the gray aliens lead them.

Cromwell had a vision of three Romulan ships. They were positioned in orbit of the planet. He also guessed what the grays had in mind. Michael wondered if that was his thought or the gray's. The alien told him that it was not his mental intrusion. The humans soon found themselves at a one story, round stone and metal building. It looked more like a work of art than a dwelling. They entered. Michael found it interior cool and inviting.

"You want us to attack those ships so that your forces can sneak by," Cromwell said.

"We are only outnumbered thirty-to-one," Schultheiss mumbled. "Sir, remember why we are in this section of space."

"We are on a secret scouting mission," Cromwell told the gray.

The aliens made them comfortable in what Michael could only describe as beanbag chairs. The grays scurried about. They put laid unidentifiable blue wedges before each of them. The lead gray, who Cromwell kept an eye on since they looked practically the same, assured the humans that the blue wedges were safe for human consumption.

"We know of your mission," the gray said. "I apologize to all of you: it is more expeditious for us to read your thoughts. We know how you cherish privacy. Your ship is unknown to the Romulans." Cromwell looked at Trudy as she uttered an exclamation of pleasure.

"Weisswurst und pretzels!" she exclaimed. Cromwell knew that it was a guilty pleasure for her.

He took a cautious bite of a wedge. "Bloody hell," he mumbled around the food. "Fish and chips!"

There were similar exclamations from the rest of the humans while their host explained that the taste was whatever they desired it to be. Cromwell soon got past the appearance and ate with relish. Their rations had lost their taste three days ago.

"Your ship is unknown to the Romulans," the gray thought at them as they ate. "The use of nacelles to house space distortion field generators is a common practice. We have not warred in many generations but I conjecture that an unknown ship attacking the Romulans might prove to be a valuable distraction for your forces." The gray seemed to focus on Michael. "We are adept at a technology that involves holographic generation. I can give you coordinates where you can rendezvous with one of our ships. The Romulans need not know that it is your ship attacking them."

"Holographics, eh?" He spoke softly. He sensed that they would not be able to keep the technology. The gray confirmed that. "We came through a subspace eddy. Do your people have enough knowledge of those to say how long it will last?"

The gray looked at him. The entire time its expression had remained the same. For a few seconds Cromwell thought that he was looking at a frightful manikin. When the lead alien seemed to once again acknowledge him Cromwell sensed that the creature had been in communication with another.

"We shall transmit to you exact data," the gray said. "But in short: the subspace distortion will collapse in six of your months."

Michael nodded. Perhaps Daedelus should not be disguised. He mulled over some plans in his mind. The gray told them of several gravimetric folds that they could use to mask their approach.

President Thorpe and Admiral Forrest had talked of delivering a death blow to the Romulans. Cromwell had a good idea of the disposition of their forces. He held his hope in check. If they lived to get that information to the Star Fleet then the war in space had an ending. How long an invasion and occupation of Romulus would take he could not say.

Romulan cruiser Riitraxa, entering the Romulan system, the fifteen hundredth turning of the Age of Pentar'n, the season of beginning

Admiral Valdore listened to the off duty crew's cheers. They were in the exercise facility watching a repeat of the presentation of the Battle of K'arnirtha. Valdore had taken up station in what had been the Tal Shiar officer's observation node. Commander Festenza had hidden in the atmosphere of the gas giant as they had discussed. It had been a dangerous ploy and could only have been done in a system like K'arnirtha. Other systems might have such a planetary alignment but Valdore doubted that any Triple Alliance commander would step into a trap like that.

He sensed the presence of another in the chamber. "A great victory for us Vrax," he said without turning to face the senator. Unfortunate accidents had befallen the Tal Shiar operatives on Riitraxa. This space was no longer used to conduct surveillance on the crew. Only he and the senator had access. It had become a place for Valdore to go and think.

"The ships that we lost cannot now be replaced," Vrax replied.

"It is my role to be the pessimist Vrax," Valdore swiveled his seat around and looked at the senator. "You are, of course correct. I was thinking of the moral victory for our soldiers. They have seen too many defeats lately. I must act to reverse this situation soon."

"There is news about that," Vrax said. "The Imperial Network is unresponsive. I got a secure frequency with my office. The praetor has not made a new broadcast in many dawnings. Yet there has been no move from the Tal Shiar. Could the human and the Vulcan have succeeded?"

Valdore punched some studs opening a channel to the command center. "Centurion Baraza make an inquiry of dock spaces and any future openings. I will be on channel three when you are complete." Valdore punched another stud closing the communication.

"I have ordered the battle replayed. It helps that Uhlan Galen is handy with animation. He has improvised where the recording equipment could not see." Valdore changed to the cruiser's external viewing equipment. Riitraxa was in normal space, passing by the dark curve of Remus. "It is better that they see that instead of the view outside."

The light of Romulus' star reflected off of a wide field of expanding debris. None of it was recognizable as their once proud main shipyard. The Imperial Budgetary Committee had balked at the idea of building another yard. Their reasoning had been that no power was great enough to attack the empire. The Triple Alliance had showed them how wrong they had been in an instant. Valdore watched as a few scavenger ships gathered up pieces of wreckage. It would be a tenturn before a ship building facility such as what was could be built. Riitraxa glided silently past one such scavenger: its mechanical claws full of a burned section of hull.

Valdore switched back to the Battle of K'arnirtha. He watched once again as one of the enemy's monstrous Conqueror class battleships had its bow cleanly shot off. It had been too bad that Festenza had been unable to deal the behemoth a death blow. Valdore knew in the larger scheme of things that it wouldn't have mattered: the alliance had plenty of those ships. But it would have boosted morale even more. Too many legions reported encountering the new battleships only to fall silent.

"I had planned to move quickly once we arrived but now we must be cautious," he told Vrax.

"Both our plans and those of Vrinak would only work so long as there was a living praetor," Vrax said. "What if Praetor Karzan went beyond? Not as a result of any plots but answering the call of his spirit?"

"Then perhaps my only recourse is a conciliation with Vrinak. Let him have the power that he craves in return for releasing the legions over Venador to me." Valdore hated his next words. "I would lend him my support so that the empire might be victorious."

"All attempts to contact Vrinak have failed," Vrax said. "That is the second thing that is puzzling. Tal Shiar activity is at a standstill. Random arrests have nearly stopped. Rumor has it that several citizens have banded together to seek retribution against certain Tal Shiar operatives. Three segment controllers and several monitors were caught and burned alive. There has been no official reply. It is as if our government is crippled."

"That cannot be permitted," Valdore said. The ancient punishment of burning might have been warranted but order was the way of Romulan society. He applied his military training to the situation. If the praetor died, under normal circumstances the senate would appoint a successor from the House of Regents: those who could claim at least a minor blood relation to Careaza or his brother. Valdore knew how tenuous that claim was in these times. Romulan blood was diluted and he guessed that no regent could claim more than two percent direct ancestry.

All of that was before the dawnings of the Tal Shiar and Vrinak's power. He understood the obvious paralysis that was coming from the senate. Fear of Vrinak probably stopped any official line of questioning. But why, he wondered, had Vrinak not acted? Surely the Tal Shiar director knew of Karzan's condition and had prepared for his passing. Something was missing Valdore knew. Some vital piece of information was absent. That left him, for once, indecisive about his course.

He could not just proclaim martial law without a reason. That could well be the trap laid by Vrinak to get rid of him. But he also knew that this paralysis and growing civil disorder had to stop. The Triple Alliance would not stop to wait for them to get their house in order. Valdore made a decision.

"Has anyone in the senate petitioned the praetor?" he asked Vrax.

"Alvega Gesaam recently issued a petition," Vrax replied. "He has self interests but he is a patriot. There has been no answer in two dawnings. There is no reason for the praetor, if he lives, to heed the request of one senator. I have contacted Gesaam and indicated my support. That should attract more signers to a petition and force an answer of some kind." He saw Vrax's look of consternation. "I am sorry if I sidestepped your authority Valdore--"

"No worries old friend," Valdore interrupted. "I would have asked you to do so anyway. You took the initiative. Add my hand to the petition." Valdore rose from the comfortable seat. "Inform the senate of my return and request that they issue an order putting the legions at Venador under my command. They have the power until and unless they appoint a new leader. If Vrinak is alive let him come forth, and spring his trap."

The commutation channel buzzed annoyingly. Valdore selected channel three and answered. "Admiral," Centurion Baraza began, "the information that you requested is available. I have sent it to your information bank."

"Very good," Valdore replied. He switched over and brought up the data that Baraza had obtained. "Make preparations for orbit but prepare to bend space as soon as possible. I must, unfortunately cancel morale time. I suspect that either we will be leaving or else I shall be dead."

"I shall do as you bid admiral," Baraza told him. Valdore ended the communication. He scrolled through numbers and port entry times. The System Control Bureau kept tight control of the ships that entered the Romulan system.

"There," Valdore proclaimed. "A section is cleared for several dawnings from now. Someone of high rank is arriving."

"Sinphius?" Vrax asked.

"It has to be," Valdore replied. "The mystery deepens. We must find out what has happened on our world and act on it."

The victory that they had just achieved and the release of the legions to him could provide the impetus that the empire needed to win. Valdore knew that the alliance worlds were each dipping deep into their capital. If he could destroy the new Star Fleet's shipyard at Utopia Planitia thus striking a blow at the humans, then perhaps he could stop their advance. Valdore knew that they had underestimated the humans. That they would become the primary movers behind a galactic empire had come as a surprise to him. He would not be surprised anymore.

The Jeweled Forest of Ath'reshaar, Romulus, the earth winter of 2158

Tarang Gupta floated comfortably in the volcanically heated water. Praetor Karzan seemed to be better than he had been in many dawnings. The old Romulan was sitting by the hot spring and reading a book. Gupta could see the script on the book's title cover. He recognized it as the script used by the ancient Romulans while they were still locked in internecine warfare on Vulcan. There were several books like it in the library of the great estate. Karzan ceased his studies when T'Pol sat a plate of cold vegetables before him.

"Thank you Promise," the old Romulan said. He sat the book down and proceeded to eat. When T'Pol seemed about to leave him at it he stopped and bid her stay. "I have access to the classified network; what Vrinak has left of it. Still, I believe that the answers to our current dilemma lie in our past." He cast a sharp, intelligent glance at T'Pol, "and in our future."

Karzan had been a wreck for many dawnings. He had spoken to people that as far as Pakesh knew were now dead. He had started to move about, slowly and painfully at first. Sometimes he had neglected to dress. But through all of that Karzan had showed some lucidity. That clarity had improved with each dawning. The praetor, besides becoming more lucid, also seemed to have developed a paternal attachment to T'Pol, Pakesh and Tarack. Gupta knew that the praetor's sons had died many tenturns ago. Two daughters had also perished early.

Pakesh emerged from a study in the estate. The great building was in a zone that was literally forbidden. A plague had swept through the early Vulcan colonists here. This area had been sealed off. Gupta could not recall its name but he remembered an island, intentionally contaminated with anthrax by early man. That island had become forbidden for many decades after that. This stretch of forest, occupying a position in the lap of a great mountain range in the southern continent was isolated both by accessibility and fear. Deposits of metals confounded even newer types of scanning devices. It had become a secret retreat for the empire's praetors.

The estate, a great stone edifice looking like it was carved from the mountain rock was overcome by the growth of weeds, shrubs and trees. For all of that it still looked regal and commanding. Pakesh stepped carefully down the stone pathway to the edge of the hot spring. He bowed before Karzan.

"What of the past, Pakesh," Karzan asked.

"Our expedition did not discover the third family my praetor," Pakesh answered. "But I believe that they were relying on data that was derived from a different base number system. I think that I may have come up with a coordinate system and converted it."

"What of the writings?" Gupta asked. He had climbed out of the water and was toweling himself dry. The praetor encouraged them to speak their minds around him.

"I had dwelt long on those during my exile," Pakesh replied. "I believe that the first family, our true ancestors, warred among themselves. They split into two camps but decided in the end to send out seeds; their DNA. They were able to follow up their work for a short time. One group flourished. The other seemed to be failing but still showed promise. If they exist then they are probably quite primitive in their development. We are the group that flourished—on ancient Vulcan."

"And nearly destroyed ourselves," Karzan said as he closed the book. "So much hatred then, we could not unify ourselves. That was why Reunification was so important. We flourished until we battled among ourselves. We can only be great together. I allowed Vrinak to turn Reunification into a tool of politics." This last was angry and mumbled so that Tarang barely heard it.

"Vrinak is no more," Pakesh proclaimed. Gupta felt flush. He had murdered the Tal Shiar director in a fit of rage. That certainly had not been Valdore's bidding. Gupta suspected that the admiral wanted to reach an agreement with Vrinak. Romulan society was so interlaced that one group could not dominate. It was all a power play.

"You are a loyal citizen Tarack," Karzan said. "It is no small feat for me to admit that I was Vrinak's prisoner. I was ready to surrender my life before all of this. It was my dream to see Reunification but I believed that we needed another tenturn to accomplish the work that would be needed. I was content to have lived to lay the groundwork. Now our brothers will never accept us; all of that so that Vrinak could seize power. I do not see how we can salvage this situation."

Gupta saw an opening. Syrran had impressed upon him the need to conceal the identity of the Romulans. Syrran, in typical Vulcan understatement had thought that the secret would cause a great stir in Vulcan society. Tarang's experiences had convinced him that Syrran was correct. Not the least damaging was the knowledge of Careaza and Surak's shared identity. Gupta had seen enough on Vulcan and now here to convince him that that secret would soon be discovered. He had seen what the knowledge had done to T'Pol.

"It is too bad that the empire could not somehow go back in time, praetor," Gupta said. "Perhaps the fortune of war would go one way but our--" He had almost said your. "Our identity might remain secret; until our two races are ready for Reunification."

"It is possible Tarack," Karzan said. "I must face a thing that no praetor has had to face: we are losing the war, all to secure power with one group. Our forces are mighty but it appears that they were misused. The industrial reports are all bad. The bulk of the legions are stationed here and around Venador. We cannot win a war in space by remaining stationary. I recall Valdore when he was a commander. I do not understand why he is not fighting the war with vigor."

"He is not in charge praetor," Gupta said and instantly regretted it. Karzan turned sharp eyes onto him and asked him for a further explanation. He could feel a sense of warning from T'Pol.

Gupta debated what he should do. "Yes idiot, fill us in further on your knowledge of military affairs." Pakesh's voice was full of suspicion. As Tarack he had never strayed too far into politics.

Gupta took a deep breath. "Admiral Valdore sent us praetor."

He heard Pakesh's sharp intake of breath. "That explains much," the former gang leader said.

Karzan looked at the three of them. "A joker, a thief and a princess, it must have been a prank of the admiral's." His mood showed that he thought that it was anything but. "Why did he send you Tarack?"

Gupta realized that this was a time for truth. "To kill you so that he could set up a type of committee to hold power and negotiate with the Triple Alliance." Tarang waited. He knew that Pakesh could kill him. He stood his ground but made no other gestures. "He says that T'Pol is infected with a lethal virus; that she will die in less than a halfturn now. I am doing this to save her."

"Will you do as Valdore commanded?" Karzan asked him.

Pakesh pulled his dagger out from his boot. "He'll die before he has the chance my--"

Karzan held up a trembling hand. Tarang knew that it shook from age rather than fear. He looked expectantly at Gupta. Tarang looked at T'Pol. He had gone too far and wasn't sure how to proceed. Karzan repeated his question. This time it was as Praetor of the Romulan Empire and not as a doddering old Romulan.

"I won't," Gupta said at last. "I do not belive that the admiral would want that if he were here. He believes that you are nothing more than a figurehead praetor."

"Then what is your interest here if you won't do your duty for the admiral, Tarack?" Karzan was without fear whereas Gupta was scared to death.

"I want to save T'Pol, stop the war and go home praetor." Karzan made a sound that seemed like a growl. Gupta realized that he was laughing.

"You don't want much," Karzan said. "You have not told me everything Tarack. What of you Promise?"

"Tarack convinced me that it was a chance at life. I chose that over death."

"You are afraid to die?" Karzan asked.

"I was ready to do so to defeat Valdore's plans." T'Pol said. "Your forces were going to invade my world and force Reunification upon us. There is nothing noble and redeeming about that. How could Vulcan teach you anything when you reach out to us as conquerors instead of descendents of our ancestors?"

Gupta's mouth dropped open. Pakesh shared in that gesture. Karzan merely looked reflective. That shocked Gupta even more. The praetor looked at them as if he knew more about them than they did themselves. Karzan took a bite of maq'a root. He chewed carefully while staring at both T'Pol and Gupta.

"So Valdore did go to Vulcan." Karzan continued to eat. He turned to Pakesh. "If Tarack had meant to kill me he could have done so when he broke in my residence. Be at peace and sit down Pakesh. You are a good and faithful citizen of the empire." He turned back to T'Pol. "I met another Vulcan once: a young scholar named…V'Las. He was brought here as part of a plan to start Reunification. I wonder, what became of him?" Karzan's eyes saw things past. Gupta worried as the praetor had looked like that most of the time after they had rescued him.

"Don't worry Tarack," Karzan said to him. "I am myself. It takes everything to hold onto my faculties. I say that Promise because some of us have the mental gifts of our ancestors. I do and my parents trained me. I sensed something about you almost as soon as Vrinak's drugs wore off. A Vulcan! Our brothers of old, you are less dour than was V'Las."

"You I cannot read," Karzan told Gupta. "I know from your words and deeds that you are not one of us, although your inner being is Romulan. I sense that." Gupta was taken back by the off handed compliment; for so he perceived it as that. Karzan gestured for him to come closer. Tarang was fearful but he walked over to stand before the praetor. He wanted to flinch when Karzan reached out and touched his face. "I am acquainted with the ancient ways. Some of Careaza's soldiers learned the techniques of Surak and his followers. My mind to your mind," Karzan said softly.

Gupta could not resist. He realized that the praetor would find out everything he knew. He wondered if he would even wake up from this meld or would Pakesh's blade cut into his throat. Tarang wished that he could tell T'Pol how much he loved her. Everything was black until the light grew. He found himself dodging a viscous blow from a short sword.

"Why use a sword when you can use a gun?" he was asking an older Romulan. Gupta saw a reflection of this self, an adolescent Romulan stripped to the waist.

The older Romulan looked at him and smiled. "We train our bodies to be as sharp as our minds. They must go together Karz't." Gupta recognized the corruption of the name as a gesture of affection.

"These old ways, the things that my mother and father show me," he said as he stabbed outward with the heavy blade. "Of what use will they be?"

Calenaex dodged his pathetic stab. Somehow he knew that this had been his childhood friend and teacher. His sparring partner used his free hand to deliver a savage blow to his sword arm. Gupta started to cry out but something in him stopped that. He pirouetted out of the way and slashed at his mentor.

"One day we will meet our brothers. They are not a myth. Our explorer ships have journeyed to their system. They are experts at the mental arts." Calenaex was breathless. He had dodged the slash and deflected Gupta's blade. Tarang realized that he had lost both momentum and position.

"We too should be ready for them," Calenaex said as he tripped Gupta and followed him to the exercise mat. The blunt sword point pricked at the skin of his throat. "We must know their ways as they will come to understand our ways. Swords come in many shapes young master. Some like the one that I hold at your throat. Others can be as intangible as a thought, but just as lethal."

He found himself staring into the wizened face of Karzan. He felt the older Romulan's fatigue. Tarang also sensed that the praetor was overwhelmed by what he had discovered. He was a little taken aback when Karzan gave him a very human nod. They both looked around at Pakesh and T'Pol. Pakesh would take the nod for a tremble from Karzan.

"There will be no killing here," Karzan said. The praetor rose shakily. T'Pol went to help him. "Keep your seat Promise. I am well. I must rest." He turned to walk back to the estate. "I must rule soon. I am tired, not just from what I just did but tired to the bone. I am past my time. I created this problem. I suppose that the gods have preserved me so that I can repair the damage." He looked up at the warm sky. "Wake me early the next dawning. We must return to the capital." He walked slowly and painfully toward the estate. He stopped for a brief instant. "I will save the empire. Now I only wish that I could have lived long enough to see the Taj Mahal. Jolan tru," he said as he continued on.

"Vulcan?" Pakesh asked them as the praetor entered the main building. "And you idiot, he said that he did not sense that in you. I suppose that you are a hewmaan in disguise?"

Norfolk, Virginia, the old United States, earth, Nov 2158

Lieutenant Frank McCoy listened intently to the voice on the other end of his handheld. He stifled a cough as he breathed in the wind blown fumes of burnt wood and textiles. A fireman walked past him. He looked at Frank's uniform and then into his face and shook his head. McCoy winced in pain when Kanya squeezed his fingers. Tears ran down her cheeks.

Fred Watson walked up to the company with his alien partner, Dominique Catères. "The DNA snooper confirms that it is the admiral's remains. Sorry Frank." Watson reached out and squeezed McCoy's shoulder.

He nodded. "Mister President, I've just been told that it looks like…it looks…it looks like Admiral Soames died…in the fire."

Frank heard a sigh on the other end. "Continue to check everything. But in the meantime the business of military intelligence must go on. I know that you were a confidant of the admiral's. There just isn't time to school a new head of security. I understand that this is a big responsibility McCoy. I hope that the admiral is just away. In case the worst has happened though, I am hereby appointing you as head of intelligence. I'll confer with my protocol officer tomorrow to push through the necessary orders."

"Mister President I'm sure--"

"No," Thorpe interrupted him. "You are not sure and neither am I. I am, however in charge. I need my key people in their places. You may bow out McCoy but you had better train a replacement to be your equal. If you think that the Romulans are bad then you haven't seen me when I'm angry. Do we have an understanding?"

"Aye aye sir!" Frank exclaimed. He had to keep himself from coming to attention.

"I know that this is sudden. I wish to god that there was no need for it. Do you need anything?" Thorpe asked.

Frank thought quickly. "I'll need the omega-alpha-x-ray keyer to open up the admiral's restricted files sir."

"I have no idea what that is but you shall have it. There is nothing pending and you know better than me if the admiral was working anything tonight. Report as intelligence chief tomorrow morning," Thorpe continued. "I'm sorry that there won't be any time for grieving. We can do that when this is over. Good luck McCoy."

"Thank…thank you sir." Frank could hear the computer created click that signified that the connection was severed.

"What do you think happened?" Watson grabbed the passing fire chief. He was an older squat looking man who had missed shaving that day. His tanned face was covered with a thick fuzz of gray whiskers.

"We've run the remains through our scanners," the old man answered. "There was evidence of increased hydrocarbons. I'd say that the lady was three sheets to the wind for sure. Did she smoke?" Frank who knew the admiral best shook his head.

The chief absently scratched at his beard. "She was probably passed out drunk. The fire alarm couldn't wake her out of something like that. Smoke inhalation would have killed her before the body was consumed. She didn't suffer; if that is any comfort to ya." He looked at McCoy. "You musta worked with her. Anyone here her next of kin?" he asked.

"She has elderly parents in the Hegemony." Frank would have to call them. The staff duty officer at 'Frisco could do it, but he had known the admiral. "I'll notify them when things are…sure." His father had died. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause grief to an old couple.

The chief looked at Watson and Catères. "What about it agent? You checked the DNA."

"It's a ninety percent lock," Watson answered. "I'm pulling her records from the SN database to make sure and I'm sending the findings here to Mexico City."

Frank could see the fire chief's suspicion. He nodded at Watson's hand scanner. "Those things are supposed to be super effective. Seems like a lot of extra work when all the pieces are here."

"We are just being thorough," Catères chimed in. She seemed fixated on the chief.

"You are just being thorough," he repeated in a slow drone. He shook his grizzled head. "I better get back to cleaning up. Check in with me before you go?"

"Sure thing," Watson said.

Frank watched him walk away. He felt Kanya press up against him. Professor Carlson was watching David McCoy. Nayyar had wanted to be here to see this. McCoy had resisted doing that but she had won out. He looked at Watson.

"Was it her or…" he trailed off.

Watson started to speak when Catères intervened. "It is no more!" Her mood softened. "The admiral was a good woman. She was a defender of your people. I believe that she died here."

"We'll examine the rest of the scene," Watson said. "The chief didn't mention foul play but I'll have him double check. We'll talk later, huh?"

"Sure thing Fred," Frank answered. He had to notify Soames' parents, comfort Kanya and take over Star Fleet Security. The McCoy family curse at it again. The two detectives walked back toward the burned out house.

"She was pretty well busted up over Antonov City," Frank said. "I know she was hitting the bottle but I never thought…"

"I never had a mother," Kanya said. She had pulled away from him and was staring at nothing. "Erica was the closest thing. She taught me a lot about being human. I had hoped that she would be there for David."

"It's just you and me and him," Frank said. He gently took her chin in his hand. "Before we went to the vault she said that I had to make my mind up. She was talking about us. I've been an ass, with you, with Eileen. I want to not do that anymore. We've…been close. I know that isn't everything but do you think that I'm…that we…"

"You are not good with words McCoy," Nayyar said. She took his hand in hers. "The admiral told me that human relations were complicated but that I shouldn't run from one. Yes, I wish to go with you through life. She also said that I was naïve, but I believe that I wanted this from the day I met you."

"Was that before or after you tried to kill me?" he asked. Frank grinned. He recalled their meeting on Space Station One.

"It was after," she answered with total sincerity. "After all, I never saw you out of a spacesuit until then."

"Okay you can bullshit them but I know you Dom," Watson declared. He kicked at a burnt piece of slab wood. The edges were still smoldering.

"Whatever Reed used made me feel as if my mind was being torn from my body," she answered softly. "When I recovered I felt as if I was alright. Soames was clear. But now I am not sure. Perhaps in my weakened state….Drak'ha have no natural end to their lives, or at least we believe that they don't. Some have lived for tens of thousands of turns."

Watson was disgusted. He shook his head. "Christ on the cross! Don't tell me that--"

"It is gone," she declared. "Don't ask me how I know, but I do."

He looked at his handheld and sighed. "Just like I know that we are going to find out that this DNA belonged to Soames. It is all very convenient."

He watched as she looked up into the clear winter sky. "It is gone. If it did live then it knows that you would be on the lookout. It would move on."

"Dontcha mean we would be on the lookout?" He didn't like the way this was going.

"I promised to help you because the drak'ha was my blood enemy. I've done that." They walked through the mess of Soames' front yard. Fred watched McCoy button the augment into an aircar. He wondered what kind of future the two would have. McCoy got in and the car rocketed up and away.

She uttered a very human laugh. "I am not fully human. If I stayed I would eventually be found out. The empire's spies here are no more. You should be on your guard just the same but the admiral and her people were quite effective. There is nothing here for me any longer."

He knew that it would come to this. Watson had, at the beginning hoped to see this spy and saboteur off of his world. But he had come to understand that the two had common interests and goals. She had saved his life and he hers. He had worked with a few other agents but he had not been in tune with any like he had Catères. She had his back.

"I understand." Fred did, but he still did not like it. "What are your plans?"

"I'll hop an alliance freighter to the outer sectors," she replied. "I already booked passage on a Denobulan ship. I'll leave the day after tomorrow."

He would miss her help. He would miss her. "Want to get drunk?"

"It is late," Catères answered.

"It's five o'clock somewhere in the galaxy," he said with a grin on his lips.

She smiled and offered him her arm. "You are buying the first round."

The fog had coalesced around them. Watson took her arm and turned toward where he had seen an all night pub. He smelled the sea air and started walking. Fred said a silent prayer for Erica Soames.

The Romulan Continent of Olatask, the earth winter of 2158

Tarang Gupta reclined in the auxiliary control officer's chair of the coach. The flight to the Jeweled Forest of Ath'reshaar had nearly proved fatal as none of them were any good at flying. Pakesh had considered allowing the pilots to live but had changed his mind on the way there. The luckless crew had been forced to depart the coach at an altitude of several thousand elil'n. Gupta had had several nightmares about that deadly flight. Somehow they had made it to the place that the praetor had wanted them to go. To his right sat Pakesh who actually had seemed to have some proficiency when it came to flying.

To Gupta's left sat Karzan. He had told them that he had been a fighter pilot in his youth. Judging from the skilled manner in which the praetor handled the air coach that must have been true. Gupta felt comfortable with the old Romulan in control; more than that he felt safe, whereas he had collapsed onto the ground in relief after their arrival at the estate. T'Pol sat behind them in an observer's position. She was scanning ahead using the coach's radar.

"There is civilian traffic ahead, praetor," she advised him.

"There is much travel to and from the capital," Karzan said. "I'll bring us in on a spiraling descent. The crews should have kept a code response program so that we can enter the airspace around the residence and land."

"I have that praetor," T'Pol said. Gupta sat back, feeling very useless while T'Pol sent the coded sequence to whoever was in control at the Inner Sanctum. Karzan had told them that Vrinak had maintained a staff that did not know what was happening inside. The praetor was counting on those Romulans still being there and having no one in command.

"Would that you two had come to Romulus as free travelers," Karzan said to him. It had been hard for him to look at the praetor after their meld. The experience was quite intimate and Gupta knew that besides knowledge of his humanity, Karzan also knew many of his deepest secrets. "My world, our great race has so much to offer. We have museums full of Romulan art from the past and present. Great wonders that even one who has seen the Taj Mahal could appreciate."

"Your world is indeed awesome Praetor Karzan," Gupta told him. "We—I have come to respect your people despite…"

"As do I praetor," T'Pol said. "Reunification should take place. I can see that my race has lost part of its greatness when your ancestors left."

Pakesh, who had taken the discovery of Gupta's heritage surprisingly well, commented: "Perhaps Tarack and T'Pol are the key praetor. We might discover yet a third group."

"The legend of Sargon," Gupta muttered.

Pakesh uttered a curse. He quickly apologized to Karzan who held up a warning hand. "I have said worse when I was a centurion. What is this Sargon?" the praetor asked.

"I have been trying to reassemble a phonetic algorithm, my praetor," Pakesh explained. "One of the possible sound combinations was that word. I had thought it an error until Tarack said that. That is a key word. There are many references to Sargon in the writings. Who was he?"

"The Vulcan Syrran once mentioned that," Gupta explained: "the legend of Sargon. I believe that it referred to Vulcan descent from a greater race." He recalled Syrran's discussion with V'Las before the minister had been killed. "That is the tablet that you have been examining!"

"How could this Vulcan know of that?" Pakesh said.

"Minister V'Las let it be known," Gupta answered. "Apparently he was aware of your research."

He saw Karzan's knowing glance directed at him. Syrran knew because he had carried Surak's katra. Gupta knew because he had been shown the life of Surak who was Careaza. The praetor had discovered it in his meld with Tarang. Karzan had taken the knowledge well. He had confided in Gupta that he had always believed that the Vulcan Surak had a greater connection to his Romulan ancestors. Such a great leader had to be more Karzan reasoned.

"Praetor, I am not receiving a response to the code," T'Pol announced. Gupta could feel a wave of tension beneath her of veneer of control. "There are unidentified aircraft on an intercept course with us."

"I can see that Promise," Karzan replied. Gupta wondered, for the voice was that of a Romulan in his prime. Karzan stayed fixated on the coach's instruments. "Tarack, there should be a gunnery station near the aft section of this ship. I'll need Pakesh to stay here and help me."

"I'll do as you bid praetor," he rose and declared. Gupta knew that he was useless in the cockpit and dangerous. Dangerous was fine for adversaries but not for them.

"The unknowns are closing," T'Pol warned them. He passed by her and reached out to touch her face.

"We'll be fine," Karzan said. The voice was youthful and full of joy. "I haven't felt this good in many a tenturn!" The aircraft rolled harshly. Gupta grabbed a hand hold. He smiled and her and mouthed the words 'I love you.' "I'll see you both down the path when we land. Now get back there Tarack!" Down the path was the Romulan term for a marriage ceremony. Gupta beat his way toward the rear of the aircraft while reflecting on where life can take a person. He was going to be married to an alien by the leader of his people's enemy. That was, if they lived.

Gupta sprinted to rear of the aircraft. There he did indeed find a station. He sat in a thickly padded chair that faced aft. He briefly studied the console before him until he found a control that caused the board to light up before him. He started to cinch up the restraints when a clamshell type of door opened up above him. He found himself looking at the blue sky of Romulus. A heavy pane of transparent material protected him. He also saw the dual snout of a heavy weapon pointing out.

So the empire must have had some discontent he thought. Someone had armed the praetor's aircraft for self defense. That implied to Tarang that not every citizen was loyal and happy. Of course Romulan society had a tradition of arms. Perhaps these guns were a working type of showpiece. Gupta saw two grips that blended into the back of the panel.

He took one in each hand. The gun barrels moved as his inputs commanded. He squeezed the triggers. He felt a strong vibration through the seat of his pants as fire spat out of the barrels. He heard Pakesh yelling at him to put on his helmet. Tarang looked up to see a dust covered, golden battle helmet hanging from a strap. He pulled down on it. Gupta felt foolish putting it on. He thought that if they were hit there would be more serious worries than shrapnel.

The inside webbing was easy to adjust. Tarang put it on and instantly heard Pakesh though the helmet's comm system. He winced when he felt sharp pinpricks on his eyes. He blinked and gasped. A holographic targeting system was before his eyes. He absently turned his head and realized that the guns were tracking with him. Gupta swept the horizon. It was clear blue. He studied the display and discovered what he guessed were countermeasures. Tarang hoped that he would not have to find out.

"Idiot, are you there?" Pakesh's insistent voice broke him out of his revelries.

He searched for a comm panel. He could hear Pakesh but not answer him. The Romulan was sounding increasingly agitated to Gupta who had come to know his moods. He fumbled around discovering that his display icons did indeed represent counter measures. Much like human equipment it had been built for intuitive use. He looked at a strange symbol wondering what it was. He felt vibration and barely saw two high speed projectiles leap out from beneath the coach's wings. He cursed out loud.

"It's about time you answered idiot!" Pakesh roared. The helmet must have be voice activated he thought. He could hear Alvin Crosby saying that it came with all the bells and whistles.

Two bright flashes intercepted the projectiles that he had just launched. He heard Pakesh cheer. Gupta had just hit two of something. He hoped that he proved as deadly when he actually tried to use the equipment.

"Hostile aircraft are making an approach from the rear!" Pakesh exclaimed. Gupta felt like his stomach was coming out of his mouth as Karzan threw the craft into a steep dive. He saw three blinking dots in his display. Gupta looked hard at one and squeezed the triggers.

The dot moved aside and launched several smaller blips. Gupta looked at his countermeasures and ejected four of them. One was probably a type of flare while the others he was not sure about. Three of the smaller pursuing markers vanished. The last did not. Gupta was about to try the guns on it when a larger target moved into his display. He heard Pakesh's warning and felt the plane turn and climb slightly.

There was a screaming high pitch tone in his helmet. Gupta saw the hawk like aircraft rather than its return. It grew in size and was bearing down on the bulky coach from a high approach. Gupta squeezed the triggers. This time he saw the solid rounds actually hit the attacker. Pieces of their adversary's wing were shredded away. The aircraft spiraled away. Gupta saw nothing but spinning clouds as the praetor sent the coach toward the ground.

Another hostile crossed his line of sight. Gupta squeezed the triggers in a pathetic attempt to hit it. It streaked by, ejecting two projectiles as it vanished from sight. Four more high speed inbounds showed up on his helmet display. Gupta squinted at every countermeasure that the plane had. The racks showed empty not long after that. Tarang felt weightlessness.

Karzan had leveled the coach out. Gupta saw the ground not far beneath him going by in a blur. He saw a glint, looked at it and fired. Panic rose in him when he saw his intended target increasing in size. The ground seemed to slow down. The missile roared by overhead. He started to breathe a sigh of relief when there was a flash and a loud pop. Alarms sounded everywhere.

He actually heard Karzan give a cry of glee. "Hold on Tarack! I have to make it appear that we have been hit."

Gupta heard a horrible grinding noise which turned into the noise of metal shrieks. The coach slowed. For a brief instant he felt the ship's protective gravity web. A warm rush of air hit his face. Tarang pulled the helmet off and tossed it to the deck. He heard nothing. It was in fact, strangely silent. He looked below to see why. His chair was hanging in a tree. The helmet sat where it had landed in a pile of leaves below. He shook his head. T'Pol appeared beneath him along with Karzan and Pakesh. Pakesh's right arm was cocked at an unnatural angle. Other than that the trio seemed to be alright.

"We must move away before they come in to see how they've done," Pakesh said. His brashness was gone.

Gupta released his restraints and plunged to the forest floor below. His ankle twisted sending waves of pain up his leg. He wiped at an embarrassing line of drool. T'Pol supported Karzan who was struggling to stand on his own. Gupta pulled himself to his hands and knees. He took in a deep lungful of air before trying to stand.

"I am well Promise!" he said as pushed her away. "I may not have many more turns but I won't be treated like a beggar any longer."

"Praetor, I spotted a small habitat off to the east," Pakesh said. "Shall we go there?"

Gupta stood shakily. He did not disdain T'Pol's help. How long had he been in that tree? He listened with half an ear while Karzan and Pakesh spoke of where they were. He was surprised at how observant the old Romulan was. Karzan was sure that they were near Tankaara Segment. After some discussion they decided to proceed. They had not walked far when they heard aircraft roaring overhead. Gupta looked around as did T'Pol and Pakesh.

"Fear not," Karzan declared. "We've not changed our procedures that much: they will orbit over the wreckage until they determine it is not an immediate threat. After that they will land foot soldiers. The town is a quartrent away. We shall be there before they land." Karzan stopped, bent painfully and picked up a long gnarled old branch. "Almost as old as me," he remarked as he looked at the tree that it had fallen from. He used it as a walking stick and went along a little better than he had.

"Praetor, who shot at us?" T'Pol asked.

"Tarack killed Vrinak," Karzan answered slowly. It was apparent that he had been mulling over that very thing. "My memory before the drugs says that Vrinak had only one trusted officer, Sinphius. For some insane reason the senate gave him status as a Hand. But I know, even through the drugs, that Sinphius is at Venador. He could not have arrived here in time to take over."

The group was silent as they walked. Gupta had recovered and looked with concern at Karzan. He knew just how fragile the old Romulan's condition was. But Karzan did have the mental abilities of a Vulcan. Gupta knew that Syrran could literally shut off the signal from certain nerves. How ironic that he was worried about someone that he had been tasked to murder. Gupta could sense that Karzan was still thinking about what had happened.

"There is confusion in the capital," Karzan said. "I'm sure that Vrinak would have eliminated any senator who might've opposed him. Perhaps that was nothing more than the residence's automatic response."

A matter had been plaguing Gupta. He decided that now was the time to speak on it:

"Praetor, I hate to ask this. Perhaps I'm just being stupid--"

"That is likely," Pakesh interjected. He was returning to his old self.

"Go ahead Tarack," Karzan said. "I much prefer that to Guuptaa," the praetor remarked.

"How can we just walk into the capital?" he asked. They had walked away from the aircraft with some pistols, a first aid kit, some rations and each had a knife. That was all. "I mean, Praetor Karzan, the image of you that the citizens know…"

"Trust that I used my mental conditioning to hide some secrets from Vrinak," Karzan replied. "He did not know about the retreat. I have other resources that were hidden. As far as your question: will the ordinary citizen see this bag of bones and believe that it is me?" Karzan continued: "Probably not, so I have some work ahead of me. Let us to it."

Star Fleet light cruiser Daedelus, in the Zeta Reticuli system, Nov 2158

Captain Michael Cromwell could tell that his engineer was distressed. Shato's antennae were bent down in the Andorian version of a scowl. The blue skinned alien stood with his hands on his hips. A very human gesture Cromwell thought. Commander Devlin followed behind the Andorian. They both were overtly suspicious of the gray aliens. They were both leaning over and crowding several of the grays as they tried to work.

"Gentleman," Cromwell surprised them with a boisterous voice. They had had their backs to him and both jumped and turned. They were assembled in the engineering section near the port warp pylon attachment.

"Yes sir!" they replied, not quite in unison.

"Why don't you give our guests some breathing room," he suggested.

Shato looked at him, then at Devlin and then at the aliens and finally back at Cromwell. "Captain! They are making modifications through the hull plating conduits! I don't even know what some of this equipment does! I'd like to know what is being put on my ship—your ship."

"I agree sir," Devlin added. "I have questions about your decision to allow aliens to do this to the ship."

"I agree sir!" the Andorian interjected. "What do we know about these aliens?"

Cromwell wanted to chuckle. "Probably about what we knew about Andorians eighty years ago," he answered. Michael could understand Shato's concerns. This was his ship in a manner of speaking. Cromwell commanded her but Shato put motion behind his orders. He pulled the clipboard that he carried out from where it had been tucked under his arm.

"Our guests want to put a face behind our ship," he said as he handed the clipboard to the engineer. "The Romulans probably have a type of telescopic recording device such as we do. Hopefully their intelligence people will see something that might cause them to have nightmares."

Shato looked at the computer generated drawing. "This will never fly," he declared. The Andorian studied it further. "Then again perhaps it has some merit. Did you create it sir?"

"Actually no," he answered. "You are looking at Jon Archer and Lieutenant Jason Crusher's next generation deep exploration starship. Of course I am told that the technology for it won't be available for several more years. You have to admit: it is quite impressive looking."

Judging by Shato's antennae, he too found the conjectured starship impressive. "You want me to help these alien—our guests make this possible?"

"Yes I do," Cromwell agreed. He understood Shato. Cromwell knew that the engineer felt useless while others crawled over his ship. This would give Shato something to occupy him. He did not understand Devlin. A gray walked up to them. "Please go with this individual Shato and give him—er her," he stumbled. The alien sent him a message that sex was not an issue among the grays.

How unfortunate, he thought. "Help our friends, fine tune their equipment." He turned to Devlin. "Walk with me Phillip."

Devlin fell in beside him. "Sir, I'm sorry I popped off back there. I am thinking about the ship. I am also thinking about our mission. We've made an important discovery. Star Fleet could come through the eddy and strike out at Cheron, maybe even Romulus itself. If Daedelus is lost fighting for these aliens then we lose a lot more than just our lives."

"I don't know if we'll win the war. I am well aware of the tactical situation." They passed several crewmen who were going about their business. "There is a larger issue here." He wanted to win Devlin over instead of rebuffing him. "We have to reach out as ambassadors and helpers."

"These grays speak of ascending." Cromwell chuckled. "My dad used to tell me that you should always stop to help someone: no matter how lowly or disconnected from you that they may be. He said you never know if you'll meet that person somewhere on the way up."

"I understand the analogy sir," Devlin replied. They descended a ladder toward the main thoroughfare to the command module. "But I wonder if the poor people in Florida get it? That all sounds good when we are at peace, but we aren't."

"Our mission is to explore," Cromwell said. "We must never lose sight of that. I know that it all sounds like high sounding nonsense to you but listen." Cromwell looked up the corridor that connected the command sphere to the engineering section. He stopped when he saw that it was relatively empty.

"It has to do with who we are," he explained. "We can go out and distrust every alien we meet. We can set up bases and build mighty fleets for the next war but that defines us as being as bad as the Romulans. Or we can also go out as explorers. We'll still train to fight but the thrust of our mission, the heart of it will be discovery. We've seen what war did in the last century. Men must grow past that. When it our time to ascend perhaps these ZR's will be there to help us. Maybe these are our first steps."

"Sir, we might have to put off these steps until we win this one. I understand what you are saying but the Romulans were going to drop bombs on our planet."

"But we beat them," Cromwell retorted; "thanks to the efforts of those ambassadors and explorers that you disdain. We owe much to the Vulcans but our own teams went out to contact the Tellarites and Andorians. Our ambassadors laid the groundwork for a relationship after the explorers were busy studying their cultures. I suppose under your scenario that we shouldn't have bothered." He decided to continue on. Devlin scrambled to catch up.

"We were lucky there captain," his first officer argued. "We could easily have been suckered into the Vulcan-Andorian conflict. Okay, I'll consider what you've said. One way of looking at it is that if we live then I guess you are right. If we die out here then who knows what way this war will turn."

"You've heard the grays. The Birds are beaten down. Admiral Forrest will lead an expedition against several possible targets if we don't return. He won't have our information but you've seen the findings: a knockout blow against either Cheron or Romulus will likely end this."

"And this should interest you number one: if the Romulans believe that we have an advanced starship they will be put further off balance with redeployments. That won't do their morale any better either."

"You mentioned Cheron sir," Devlin started. They went past an engineering gang that was engaged in routine maintenance. "Is there any truth to the scuttlebutt that we are just supposed to force an armistice on the Birdies? That we won't go to Romulus and achieve a final victory?"

Cromwell started the climb up the narrow stairs to the bridge. He had almost stopped, hauled up short by Devlin's question. A Romulan surrender was exactly what the president desired. How that would affect these crewmen who had seen so many deaths because of the war, he did not know. Michael knew that it would not be good. It was one thing to deal with xenophobic attitudes: they could be changed. Broken expectations could not. The brunt of whatever happened would fall squarely onto the president's shoulders.

"I don't know what the future holds," he said as the topped the final stairwell to the bridge. "I feel that we are close to victory but how and what that is I cannot say."

Cromwell was glad that he was a starship captain responsible for one hundred and nineteen lives. He saw that no matter how this war ended some would not be appeased. If they landed on and occupied Romulus how many humans and aliens would be calling for blood from the Vulcans? If there was a negotiated peace how many like Devlin would cry foul?

It was not his bailiwick and he was glad. Cromwell stepped onto his bridge where the answers seemed black and white to him. He had a battle to plan. Devlin too launched himself into his tasks. Michael had decided to allow the primary crew some time to stand down. They would need the rest for later.

Kalenara, capital of the Romulan Empire, Romulus, the fifteen hundredth turning of the Age of Pentar'n, the season of beginning

"Admiral Valdore has his own interests," Senator Nivita Brelag declared. "This continuing committee proposal would leave much power in the hands of the military."

Brelag stood in the speaker's circle directly beneath the apex of the senate chamber's mighty domed ceiling. The senator was far older than Valdore. He had once been Valdore's mentor. He respected Brelag who was bound by the empire's laws. But now was not the time. No law, even those laid down by Tarl, covered the present situation. The empire was leaderless.

"We have no one in charge!" Senator Vrax interjected from the darkness of the gallery. "The admiral is proposing this committee so that no one group dominates. He merely wishes that our remaining forces are released to him."

"Senior, are we now speaking over those who are in the Speaker's Circle?" Brelag asked the ranking senator.

"No we are not," Senator Vellon'aise replied. He was the oldest Romulan in the room even more elderly than Brelag. "Senator Vrax is reminded to observe protocol."

"My thanks," Brelag bowed his head slightly and plunged ahead. "It is fitting I suppose that Vrax has spoken. It is he who carries the blood of Tarl and Careaza. It is he who would be praetor if dear Karzan has made the final journey."

Brelag drew himself up. "I ask this body to restrain any rash action. Sinphius is about to land. Praetor Karzan's last decrees established the Tal Shiar as the body that administers the Residence's security. Let us receive the Hand's report on the condition of Karzan. Then, my companion senators, then we can set a course of action."

Valdore sat beside Vrax in the darkened gallery. He was disappointed by Brelag's conservative approach. He was not however surprised. Valdore might have endorsed the same course when he had been a senator. He listened while Brelag stepped down. Vrax was on the rolls to speak next. An aide handed Vrax a rolled up document as Vrax stood to walk to the Circle. Vrax skimmed the document and then handed it to Valdore.

Valdore grew agitated as he read the document's contents. The human must be alive. Nothing else explained what he had just read. He needed to get out of here. If the praetor lived then it was Valdore who must get to him first. There could be nothing else. Even if Gupta and Promise had gotten the defense codes why had they tried to return? He forced himself to calm down and listen to Vrax's counterpoint.

"Our great empire is at war and we sit here and founder," Vrax stated. "Senators, we are entrusted to preserve the empire. There are others with the blood. If you choose one then I shall endorse him! I am not here seeking that. I am here for Romulus. Our great legions are bearing the costs of our foolishness here. Let the admiral command! It is our role as politicians to sit and wring our hands while our soldiers win victories for us. Allow that to happen. Put a stop to this inaction."

It was a violation of protocol for him to get up and leave; unless, Valdore remembered, unless there was an emergency. He looked ahead intently. Vrax was storming on, delivering a lecture about the landing of the first Romulans on this world. He listened as Vrax spoke of the starvation and death of the first Vulcans to land here. It was an inspiring tale Valdore thought as he reached into his cloak, found a small control unit and depressed its only stud. He thought though that no matter how just their cause that this body would come to no decision.

The senate was like some multi legged creature with no brain. There was a commotion by the entrance. It was not unexpected by Valdore who feigned surprise and then interest as Denaton brusquely conferred with the senate's ceremonial guards. They were soon escorting him to where Valdore was seated. Vrax stumbled on and then stopped as if he too had been taken at unawares by the intrusion.

Denaton came before him and saluted. He informed Valdore about a vital military issue. Valdore rose, apologized to the senators and asked Vellon'aise if he might leave. The old senator looked hard at him. Vellon'aise could recognize theatric for what they were. Even with that the senior excused him. Valdore bowed and left with the major. The two were silent until they were well clear of the senate hall.

"The Hand has landed admiral," Denaton informed him. "His entourage is headed here with him."

Valdore noted that Denaton was leading him along a different route. "Assemble an assault team from Riitraxa. I'll need them and at least two Harriers."

Denaton stopped him. Valdore looked past him to see Sinphius and his security team march down an adjacent hall. They looked more like thugs from the guild than military personnel. Valdore almost wished that they saw him. It would allow him to shoot Sinphius who was, no doubt, here to claim power. But they were outgunned. The sneering Hand and his security detail marched by, several elils from where Valdore stood with Denaton.

"What is to be their mission my admiral?" Denaton asked as the Hand and his escorts passed and the two of them continued. They passed out into the inner courtyard. The air smelled of vegetation and fresh cut grass.

"We are going to search near Tankaara Segment." Valdore walked past his groundcar. He had arranged for another vehicle. It was bad enough that the Triple Alliance was trying to kill him. It was worse that some of his own race might try the same. A private aircoach sat in the public area. He keyed in the code that opened the coach's door.

"For what admiral?" the major asked.

"A small group," he replied. "We are in a race to find someone. Sinphius will have reached the same conclusion and will be sending in teams of his own."

"Rumor abound that the Tal Shiar has infiltrated the monitors," Denaton said. "They will have an advantage of using local personnel to search admiral."

That is why he encouraged his subordinates to say what was on their minds. He had been busy thinking about many things. That one item had not occurred to him. He told Denaton to sift through the crew for Romulans from Tankaara. He started and then engaged the coach's engine. He stopped as he peered across the outer parking area to the street. A small troupe of bedraggled street entertainers was putting on a performance. One of them was holding aloft several orbs at once. Valdore had read about this. It was a form of entertainment, on earth.

He stared ahead. "Gupta," Valdore said quietly.

"Admiral?" his aide asked.

He was a long time answering; so much so that Denaton seemed surprised when he did speak up: "Things are poised, frozen in motion. We have a little time to change the outcome. I will command the team." He relinquished the coach's controls to Denaton and told him to angle for Tankaara Segment. Denaton turned to the task of flying.

"It is unusual for one from the admiralty…"

"To command an assault force?" he asked, finishing Denaton's comment. "These are extraordinary times major. We must rely on what we have. Sometimes we have to use weapons that seem as dangerous to us as they are to an opponent."

Star Fleet light cruiser Daedelus, in the Zeta Reticuli system, Nov 2158

"Stations," Michael Cromwell ordered.

He swiveled slowly in his chair. He stopped and looked across the bridge to the engineering display. He waited while several lights turned from green to red. It was much like submarine. Cromwell pictured the heavy airlocks descending into place along the intersections of major bulkheads. Shato called him and notified him that hull plating was charged. Cromwell turned to Devlin and nodded. The bridge lighting dropped.

The bridge viewer switched from a picture of the blackness of space to the tactical display. A gray, looking more like a made up creature from animation than a sentient being, stood beside Cromwell's chair. Michael thought that the alien was being unsafe, but the gray that he had dubbed Klaus because his eyes reminded him of a cat that Trudy's mother and father kept, assured him that he would be okay. Michael passed along a course to Kay Stansfield and ordered her to engage.

"Chief Custis?" he asked.

"I'm having a tough time seeing anything sir," the chief answered. "If Klaus' people hadn't helped us I would call it an unsafe navigation condition." Custis removed his face from the display hood. "On the other hand I doubt that the Birdies are seeing anything captain."

Despite the grays' claim that they would not help with technology Daedelus now boasted the most advanced sensor system of any Star Fleet ship. Without saying, or rather thinking it, they had inferred that the improvements could stay. The holographic and force field technology was something else. That would be gone after they helped these unlikely allies.

"This is a zone of cometary debris, much like your Oort Cloud captain," Klaus thought at him. "We believe that a large comet struck a primordial planet that was composed mostly of nickel and iron and heavy metals. That caused the particles and some of the smaller comets to become charged."

"Rendering this an area of extreme electromagnetic interference," Cromwell added.

"Preparing to execute a turn to port captain," Stansfield proclaimed.

Daedelus was following a series of turns prepared for them by the grays. Cromwell knew that Custis was correct: this section of the Zeta Reticuli system was nearly impossible to navigate through. They were almost flying blind. He told Stansfield to proceed.

"Missile room reports that they are manned and loaded captain," Chief Walter Matsui reported. "We will be within Cachalot range in eight minutes."

"Very well," he answered. He turned to the gray. "We'll follow that last fold until our scanners clear. The Birds will be on to us by then but we can attack their first taskforce."

"I have isolated the ship with the Remans aboard," Klaus thought at him. "If I may captain?" the alien asked.

Michael knew what the gray wanted. He nodded his assent. Cromwell suddenly saw the Romulan vessel in question. He absolutely knew its position as he was aware of the position of his own ship. He saw Stansfield and Matsui tense up. They were going through similar experiences he reckoned. Cromwell looked back at the tactical display. The first returns from Romulan ships were becoming visible. Michael knew exactly which of those points of light had to be attacked and destroyed.

"Five minutes until we are in attack range captain," Matsui said.

Cromwell was about to acknowledge him when he felt an exclamation of astonishment from Klaus. The normally passive gray was clearly on about something. Cromwell turned quickly. Klaus was blank. Cromwell sensed that the alien was seeing something in his mind. They had told him that some of the grays could project themselves out of their bodies.

Cromwell wondered if Klaus was one of those with that ability. If so, the alien was risking much. According to their assertions the Remans could sense and nullify their mental intrusions. The Remans weren't as powerful as were the ZR's, but they could see through their mental defenses enough to allow Romulan plasma cannons to do the rest. That is how the ZR's had been conquered.

"What is wrong?" Cromwell asked Klaus.

There was silence. Klaus of course, said nothing, but he also thought nothing at Michael. Devlin suggested turning about. Cromwell was beginning to think that was an option he should take. Custis chimed in hesitantly about something he had picked up on subspace scanners.

"Sir I'm starting to read individual Birdie ships. I don't think they can see us yet. I'm not only picking up their power signatures, I can see their deck layout. I'm reading sections of their ships as being depressurized. There are indications of small explosions aboard several of them." Custis shook his head in amazement. "I wish these things were hooked to a better computer. I think that I could read their biology; call them bio signs."

Cromwell was glad that the chief didn't have his wish. He doubted that a final victory under Thorpe's terms of anonymity could happen. But he would work to try to do it. Those were the orders to Admiral Forrest. Those were then his orders. He shoved aside those thoughts as he wondered what could have happened to the enemy ships. Michael gasped when he saw that he was outside of Daedelus.

He was moving through space without a suit. Cromwell took a few seconds to realize that he was with Klaus. He saw a Romulan Sabinus class bearing down on him. He threw his hands up and instantly felt foolish. Cromwell's intellect told him that he was sitting comfortably in his chair aboard Daedelus. At least his body was there he thought.

Klaus turned and looked at him as they appeared inside the Romulan ship. "We can feel the Remans' minds before they realize it. When I reached out to confirm which vessels you should attack I felt nothing. I probed further to discover why. This is what I found."

Cromwell floated rather than walked to where a body lay in a pool of green gore. He looked down. The Romulan's face had been torn off. He only knew that the body was Romulan because of its only remaining ear. He floated to another body that was riddled with gunshot wounds. That was bad enough but that former Romulan had been torn up too. Michael was no forensics expert but he thought that this body had been mauled after death. The faceless bloke had his hands out as if he had been trying to ward off his attacker.

He floated onward. Several corpses littered the corridor. Cromwell looked back. He got the sense that they were attacking someone, or something at the end of the corridor. Cromwell started as they passed by a gaping hole in the hull. He had the spacer's fear of being ejected live into vacuum. Once again he reminded himself that he really was not here. He moved along until Klaus stopped before a corpse that was not Romulan. The word Reman popped into his mind.

Cromwell remembered a play about a vampire, a Nosferatu. That is what this creature with its sallow skin and long dangerous looking nails looked like. It was somewhat larger than the Romulans and had a type of gun in each hand. It must have made its stand here Michael guessed. Its chest and abdomen were open, riddled with gunshot wounds. Bluish blood made a pool beneath the corpse. Several orbs hung on the creature's belt. Grenades, he thought; probably what had made the hole.

"I had assumed that the Remans were allies of the Romulans?" he thought at Klaus.

"They have a lower status in the empire. Most of them participate only because not doing so would exact punishment on their clans."

Klaus seemed to pull him along. Cromwell tried jumping out of the way of an exasperated Romulan. Cromwell issued a cry of dismay when the Romulan walked right through him. He was shouting orders in his language. Cromwell suddenly heard the orders in English. Klaus must have done something. Cromwell saw another Romulan approach the first one. He was shocked when the new arrival removed his helmet. Michael wondered if the youth was even sixteen.

The young Romulan thumped his chest with his fist. "My commander, the last of the mutineers has been killed. The communications' centurion reports that our equipment has been sabotaged."

Cromwell perked up when he heard that this was his counterpart. The Romulan wore a sash with a badge on it. Both wore gloves. Cromwell remembered that from the corpses they had discovered on their derelict Romulan cruiser. The young soldier's uniform was plain in comparison. The Romulan officer's face burst into a study of rage when he heard the news.

Cromwell had thought of the Birds as Vulcans, once their origin had been discovered. That preconception was torn away before him. The alien commander stormed over to the body of a Reman. He withdrew a sidearm and emptied it into the corpse, all the while cursing. He turned back at the youth. He wiped at some spittle on his mouth while catching his breath.

"You fool!" he roared. "This was no mutiny. This is a rebellion. We must raise the Citadel!"

The Romulan youth was quaking. It amazed Cromwell that he could muster the courage to speak. "Commander, the centurion is attempting to patch through a shuttle's communication unit. He is working as fast as he can!"

The change was amazing. The commander's face calmed. He blinked and holstered his weapon. "Find him whatever assistance he needs uhlan. We need to get a message home." Cromwell watched him reach out and lay his hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "I fear that this may be happening on Romulus."

The younger Romulan was visibly taken aback by the commander's assertion. "But commander…the retribution…how could they…"

"Go about your duties Ulan Tuix. I must know what else is happening in this system. We must be able to contact Colonel Munalez." The Romulan commander returned the grave youth's salute. Cromwell suddenly felt the need for haste.

"Klaus," he said as he opened his eyes and took in his familiar bridge. "Can your people reconfigure the holo devices to make us appear as a Romulan?"

"We can captain," Klaus answered. "I read your thought as we teleported back here. It is done."

"Helm, slow to warp two!" he snapped.

"We are entering Birdie sensor range captain," Custis announced.

"Sir! We will be a sitting duck at this speed!" Devlin exclaimed.

"Mister Matsui," Cromwell started, deliberately ignoring his first officer's warning. "Target those ships at your discretion. You may fire when ready." The weapons' chief acknowledged his orders.

"Thirty thousand kilometers and closing captain," Custis said. "Sir…they aren't taking up a defensive posture."

"Mister Devlin you were conjecturing about aliens," Cromwell said while staring at the tactical display. "It might interest you to know that," he stopped. He could not say that Klaus had taken him aboard a Romulan ship. "There is some kind of internal conflict within the Romulan ranks according to Klaus." The gray understood that Cromwell was keeping secret the Romulans' identity.

"Then they know what the Romulans are," Devlin said.

"We are herded into cities. We know that the Romulans are bipeds and probably similar in biology to your species commander," Klaus said. "We are able to sense things from them. That is all."

Cromwell was not even convinced by the telepathic lie. But it would have to do. He ordered Stansfield to exit warp. Further discussion was cut short when Matsui fired their first salvoes of Cachalots. Two points of light vanished from the view screen. Cromwell ordered Stansfield to maneuver right into a group of Romulan ships. He wanted a close enough pass for them to see his ship. Matsui fired again as Daedelus passed near to what sensors identified as a Veronus.

"They are on a buildup to fire sir!" Custis warned.

Cromwell watched another Romulan fall to a Cachalot burst. He also saw the telltale spikes of the plasma cannon firing preparation. Daedelus had made a close enough pass here. They had also been close enough to have been captured on video. It was time to move to the next phase of the attack.

"Lieutenant Stansfield, set course one-one-five mark nine and engage at warp two," he ordered. He turned to Devlin. "Their comms are down number one. We must take the time to sow seeds of dissension among them. Helm, prepare to exit warp ten thousand kilometers from their orbiting taskforce."

"Sir, I think those seeds have sprouted," Custis remarked. "Four ships are breaking formation. I think that they are after us. But several of the ones hanging back are firing—at each other."

"We are nearing the orbiting taskforces captain," Devlin announced.

"Several of those are powering cannons sir," Custis warned.

"I'm starting to read coded subspace messages from them captain," Ensign Li Chang advised him.

"Chief Matsui, we aren't going to hang about very long," he told his gunnery chief. "I'll give you about thirty seconds and then we shall depart."

"Twenty seconds until we exit sir," Stansfield announced.

Cromwell looked carefully at the sensor readings. "We'll be in the thick of it for about fifteen seconds. Helm, work with guns to keep them off of us." He turned to the gray. "What about your end Klaus?"

"The Romulans are confused and fighting among themselves," the alien thought at him. "The first wave of our rescue ships has landed. This has been most fortuitous captain. If you are successful they will be unaware of who attacked them and convinced that the problems here were all internal."

"I have targeting solutions based on our exit captain," Matsui informed him.

"Entering normal space…now sir," Stansfield announced.

"Targets acquired sir!" the chief exclaimed.

"Fire!" he replied.

"Firing and away!" Matsui exclaimed.

The ship that entered normal space did not look like a stellar navy starship. Instead it appeared very much like a Romulan Sabinus. The Sabinus appeared to fire its primary weapon. The streaks left by Cachalot missiles as they went to warp were masked. Romulan ships launched anti missile missiles and neutronium pellets in defense. The Cachalots were destroyed before they could engage their targets. The faux Sabinus maneuvered wildly. Another apparent plasma volley belched out.

This time, both Cachalots exited warp and exploded within meters of their targets. Two Romulan cruisers erupted in blinding fireballs. Daedelus once again maneuvered among the Romulan forces. Two more Cachalots left the starship's tubes. A Romulan space station, still under construction was hit by a Star Fleet missile and destroyed. The second missile was defeated. The attacker leapt away into subspace just as fire from two plasma cannons converged where it had been.

Rather than chase the intruder the surviving Romulans paused. A Veronus accelerated away. It was pursued by a hail of Moolah missiles. One of them exploded near to the escaping ship a second missile finished the cruiser. A Veronus and Sabinus exchanged deadly plasma cannon fire resulting in the two of them annihilating each other. A further missile battle erupted among several other ships. Three more Romulan ships erupted before the battle stopped.

"Our ships are leaving the atmosphere Captain Cromwell," Klaus told him. "Some will stay behind. They will maintain the fiction of a Romulan conquest until we can return for them."

"That will be long?" Cromwell asked the alien.

"In terms that you understand, yes it will." Oddly enough Cromwell felt something like humor from Klaus. It was the humor he remembered from his great grandfather. A humor of someone who knows a secret learned only through age. "I will leave now."

"What course shall we set to rendezvous with your ships?" he asked.

There was that humor again. "I was never here captain. And your advice to Devlin was correct. We'll be there to help when it is your turn."

Cromwell watched as the image of Klaus faded away before him. Devlin sprang up and sprinted to the spot where the alien had been. Michael merely smiled. It was no surprise.

"Pursuit?" he asked.

"Negative pursuit sir," Custis said. He too looked at where the gray had stood.

"All of the holographic equipment," Devlin started. "The alien technicians who helped us…"

Cromwell flicked a stud on his armrest. "Engineer, what is the status of the equipment that our guests installed?"

"Sir!" the Andorian answered. Cromwell was not surprised to hear bewilderment in his voice. "Everything is gone. The connections that we made to the hull plating are the only things that remain!"

"Investigate further Taln," he replied. "But don't be surprised if you don't find anything. Bridge out," he said and cut the connection.

"I'm not sure that I like this sir," Devlin said. "They played us like children."

"They needed our help commander," Cromwell said. "And, in a way…perhaps we are children to them."

There was a war to win. Cromwell reflected that man had resolved his own differences only to come out here and discover that some had not resolved theirs. That was no reason to revert to aggression. When Michael thought of why they were out here he remembered people like John Glenn and John Kelly. He thought of Jonathan Archer and those who pursued this way of life to chase a dream. Those were the people who had shaped the future, not the conquerors and generals. It would be for another generation to build a future. This one would start out among the stars.

"Lieutenant Stansfield, set a course for the eddy," he ordered. "Stand down from battle stations number one." He smiled. "Chief Custis, work with astrophysics to use our enhanced sensors when we pass through the eddy. There is a lot to learn and we won't do it by standing still."