Tankaara Segment, Romulus, the earth winter of 2158

Tankaara Segment, Romulus, the earth winter of 2158

Tarang Gupta found Pakesh by the El'Nado River; the same river that they had journeyed upon to the capital. The green water flowed by. The former criminal gang leader was tossing stones into the water and watching the resulting splashes. Gupta knew Pakesh well enough to make some noise announcing his coming.

"Idiot," Pakesh said with his back turned away from him, "or shall I call you Guuptaa?"

"Idiot is fine. Tarack would be even better." Gupta sat down beside the chieftain. The two were silent for a long time.

"Promise is taking care of the praetor?" Pakesh asked.

"He seems able to take care of himself," Gupta replied. "I believe that our—your leader could best all of us." Tarang laughed. "T'Pol is looking after him, just to answer your question."

Another uncomfortable silence passed. "I just wanted to apologize, Pakesh. I…you…did so much for us. I don't believe that either of us would have lived if it weren't for your help."

"I ended up helping assassins," Pakesh answered. "We criminals are a part of this society. Our role may be heinous but we believe in our destiny: the Romulan destiny to rule. Now I have questions. It seems that our own have betrayed us."

"That is a story in many places Pakesh," Gupta remarked. "We had our own misadventures on my world."

"Your world," Pakesh remarked. "That sounds so foreign. How much else were you lying about?"

"I'm not making excuses Pakesh," he answered. "Admiral Valdore kidnapped us. He says that T'Pol is infected by a fatal virus and will die. I think that I'm not as much an earthman as you are a Romulan. I did what I did because I love her. I'm not a patriot. I just wish that she was safe and we were home." He looked at Pakesh.

"Tell me. If I had told you the truth those many quatrents ago what would you have thought? What would you have done? I'm still who I was." Gupta stopped and thought of what he had just said. "No, I'm not sure who I am. Things are different."

"You didn't complete your mission," Pakesh said. "You must not value Promise's life as much as you say."

"I love her very much," Gupta said. "But when it came to it, I knew that the answer was not as simple as taking one life for another. I've come to admire many things about your race. One of the things I discovered was how you play games within games. T'flal is an example of that. Killing the praetor seemed like the move that was ordained. But more than that, I could not kill him. I thought that that was the Romulan solution. We need a hewmaan solution. That is the only thing that will save T'Pol and stop this war."

Pakesh laughed. "Perhaps our races aren't so different. You are arrogant enough to believe that you can stop a war and save your mate. That is no small feat and is something a hero of old would have set out to do."

It was Gupta's turn to laugh. "I'm no hero. Idiot does seem like a better term."

"You saved the praetor. You backed the gang when I asked you. You took risks when you both could have run off. I respect that." Pakesh looked over at him.

"I appreciate that Pakesh. I'm still your friend. I doubt you feel that way towards me or T'Pol. Somehow it is important that I earned that from you. It means a lot." Gupta sighed. "Let's get Praetor Karzan back to the capital. It seems like the senate and Tal Shiar has made fodder of everyone. Perhaps it is time to change that."

He stood up. Pakesh did likewise. "It is odd," the Romulan commented. "I still count you as a friend. I only know of your race through the war announcements. You are not the laggards and perverts that I thought that you were. I always thought that you were just strange." He seized Gupta's shoulder. "I still don't know your race but I agree with the praetor: your soul is Romulan, whether you believe otherwise."

"Are you two planning on mating?" a strident voice demanded. The two turned to see Karzan standing on the hill above them. "I am quite ready to leave! I finally escaped from Promise's care. It is time to go."

T'Pol came up behind the aged leader. "You should take care to eat well…"

"You mean at my old age?" the praetor asked, finishing what she had tactfully left out. "I have been full of so many sedatives that there is not much left of me to provide nutrition for." He turned and stomped off.

They scrambled to catch up to him. Gupta thought that for an emaciated old Romulan Karzan moved pretty fast. He hobbled along at an ambling jog, supporting himself with his gnarled walking stick. They soon found themselves walking down a heavily grown trail. Gupta pushed rubbery tree limbs out of his way as he went. He started to smell the characteristic combination of chemicals and sewage that signified a Romulan town.

The group pushed into a small clearing. A stream ran through the clearing. No aquatic life or vegetation was near the waterway. Gupta thought that he would not drink out of it. Given their direction he figured that the stream ran out of the town.

"You there, halt!" a harsh, mechanically amplified voice announced.

Pakesh motioned for them to stay still. The praetor leaned on his stick. A group of uniformed monitors emerged from the woods beyond the stream. Gupta saw to his distress that they were surrounded. They also had weapons which were illegal fro the average Romulan citizen. The lead monitor stepped forth. He removed his gray, cloth clad helmet. He mopped at some sweat that was beaded on his brow. Gupta thought that he was quite pudgy for a Vulcanoid.

"You dandies have traveling seals?" the fat monitor asked.

Pakesh usually had several copies of seals issued by minor officials. But that had been during his days as a bandit. None of them had thought to take anything like that into the Inner Circle. Pakesh smiled. Gupta could see him leading into the con game. He had seen it many times.

"We are just heading into the city for work," Pakesh explained. He watched Pakesh reach cautiously into his pouch. He pulled out two crowns. "We don't have much, but I'm sure it will get us into the city."

It was a bribe. Gupta knew the routine: the monitors would check Pakesh's pouch where they would find a few more crowns. They would take all but the initial offering and leave them alone. That had been what had happened on previous occasions. This time was shaping up to be different.

"You haven't gotten the message yet," the surly monitor continued. "We aren't playing games with the guild anymore. Things have changed." Gupta froze when he saw the Romulan police officers taking their saps off of their belts. He had seen many who had been unlucky enough to cross a group of monitors.

"Since when are Romulan citizens questioned for no reason?" Karzan stood forth and asked the monitor. Gupta winced inside. He doubted they recognized Karzan and to question to a Romulan monitor was usually taken as disrespect. Retribution was frequently swift and painful. "Seals are only needed when leaving a segment. This is Tankaara Segment is it not?"

Gupta prepared for whatever came next. The monitor leader walked up to Karzan. His team grouped up assuring that each of Gupta and his companions was overmatched at least two-to-one. He grinned evilly at Karzan.

"Who do you think you are old one; an administrator?" the monitor asked. He laughed. His mates sporadically joined in the laughter. Gupta thought that they were looking forward to roughing them up more than they were looking for a joke. The monitor shoved the end of his sap into Karzan's ribs. The praetor blinked and looked at his tormentor. Could his mental technique be on a par to a Vulcan's?

"I believe that I'm a citizen of the empire. Monitors are supposed to protect our citizens, not act as ruffians. What is your name?" Karzan asked.

Gupta stepped forth slowly. "Please, our father is old. He knows not what he says." The monitors had tensed up. Gupta stopped, but the monitors were now out of position if it came to hand-to-hand. That proved to be pointless as one of the monitor's covering him drew his stinger. The end crackled as he powered it on.

"I'll make you remember my name you worthless old v'roul!" the monitor spat. He swung his club at Karzan.

Surprisingly the praetor managed to bring his walking stick up. But he was not the youthful warrior of many tenturns ago. The praetor's arm deflected the clubbing that had been intended for his head. Gupta heard a dry crack and despite any conditioning Karzan cried out. Gupta kicked out at the monitor with the stinger. The monitor spun away and stabbed the stunning device toward him. Gupta cried out and collapsed as the device touched him. He lay on the ground unable to control his jerking muscles.

When he finally gained some control over his limbs he looked from where he lay to see all of his companions on the ground in various stages of being bludgeoned. The two officers who were attacking T'Pol were leering at her. They clearly indented to do more to her than administer a beating. The monitor leader shouted for his crew to stop. Karzan was bent forward, on his knees before his tormentor. The praetor's forehead was nearly touching the ground.

"Old fool!" the monitor shouted. "If you are the father of these then you are a poor one!" He took in a great draught of air and then spat on Karzan. He sidestepped the beaten praetor so that he could kick the old Romulan in his side. Karzan rolled over mournfully.

T'Pol's attackers grabbed at her tunic. Gupta tried to get up when he was kicked hard in the side. Blows rained down on him. He raised his hands to shield his face. He suddenly realized that the beating had stopped. He started to get up again when one of his attackers collapsed in a heap across his legs. He squirmed out from beneath the former monitor. The legs of his pants were stained green with blood.

The lead monitor lay flat on his face screaming. Gupta wondered why until he saw the wreck of what had been his knees. Jagged white bone protruded from a gaping wound on one of his knees. Tarang figured that the other knee was in the same shape by the way that the officer tried to crawl away. Several tall, shadowy figures emerged from the thick brush.

Had Gupta not known Elcan he would have been afraid of the pale creatures that surrounded them. He realized that they were his saviors, but he drew no comfort from that fact. The Remans carried a type of long weapon with an enlarged cylinder on the end. He didn't know what that was until the monitor chief tried crawling away. One of the Remans shot the officer in his hand. The heavy cop fell with an oomph onto his side. The cylinder had muffled the gun's retort.

The Reman stepped forward and put his booted foot firmly on the fat Romulan's shattered, bleeding hand. The monitor screamed while the Reman let out a long slow hiss. Gupta could hear satisfaction in the hiss. He struggled to his knees only to have one of their rescuers firmly plant the butt of his gun in his stomach.

"Stay there wuf'n!" the Reman snapped at him.

Gupta was shocked by the use of that word. Elcan had used it a few times. He had explained to Tarang that it was a derogatory slang term for a full blooded Romulan. It was a slur against their supposed superiority over all others. Some Romulans in the Criminal Guild used the word when referring to those in higher stations in life.

The Remans talked among themselves in their language. Gupta understood a little of it as it had been blended with the Romulan tongue through the long turns. He sensed T'Pol's mind touch his. She too knew that the Remans were discussing their fate. Another vampire like alien joined the group. Gupta could see that the others deferred to this one. Tarang felt a brush across his mind. It was not T'Pol.

"These two…," the new arrival proclaimed indicating T'Pol and Gupta. The Reman, a male that was even taller and broader than Elcan hesitated. He looked at Karzan. "This one also," he added. The Reman approached T'Pol. He grabbed the back of her tunic and used it to pull her to her feet. "What are you?"

"A Vulcan," she answered without hesitation.

The Reman laughed at her. It was not the cruel laugh of the monitor leader. It was a sage laugh. "A Vulcan; one of the great wuf'n saviors?" he asked. He turned to Gupta. "What of you? Your brain seems completely different. I see strange, alien images. I suppose that you are one of these hewmaan in disguise?"

"Actually I am," he answered. The same captor who had hit him before once again drove the butt of his rifle into Tarang's stomach. He bent over in pain but stayed on his feet. "You wanted an answer," he gasped out. He could feel the mental brush again. This time it was stronger.

He was back in India. Gupta was staring across a table at Vijay Karmarkar and Asha Dey. He gasped at the sight of his old school friends. It was their favorite restaurant. The outdoor seating was next to the bustle of New Delhi traffic. Ground and aircars weaved a deadly dance with small electric scooters. The scooter operators seemed careless when it came to their lives. A young couple, not much older than Gupta and his teenaged friends, shot between two large delivery vans. The van drivers didn't give the daredevils a second glance. The three Indians took it all in stride.

Vijay, Gupta looked at one of his best friends from that time. They were both competing for Asha's affections. Neither would get it. Asha Dey would marry an exchange student from Mexico. The couple would emigrate to Deneva. Gupta grew sad as he thought of what would come, what had been. Oddly enough they were discussing that very thing.

"You should stay here Asha!" Vijay exclaimed. "There are great demands for physicians don't you know?"

"I was thinking more of geology Vij," she answered. "I'll use my study of you two and apply it to rocks. What is wrong with you Tara?"

Vijay snapped his fingers before Gupta's face when he did not immediately answer. "Sorry," he said. Gupta could not take his eyes off of Asha. "I was thinking of the future."

"Some soldier you will turn out to be!" Vijay exclaimed. His friend turned back to romance. "Wouldn't you rather stay here on earth where it is exciting? There is nothing but dust and sand on the colonies! Why it will be months before you can return for a visit!"

"That will be my new home," Asha declared. "And I am sad to leave my family behind. I wish that you would not remind me of that Vij. I just…want to be out there and see it all. I don't think of myself as some naval pilot exploring the cosmos like Tara will be doing. But I'll be out there, where no one has gone before."

Both boys rolled their eyes. They were both accustomed to Asha's moods. She had been like this since they were kids playing in the streets of New Delhi. When they looked up at the sky she saw a future. Gupta supposed that he had seen a future too. It was one gleaned more from the action adventure novels that he had read instead of reality. Vijay reminded him of that.

"Four eyes here?" his friend asked. "He will be on some ship preparing rice and peeling potatoes; if he even makes it past the moon! You would be better off staying and helping your father in his business Tara."

"Your friend was right earther," the Reman told him. "You should have stayed home. This is no place for you."

"I tend to agree," he answered.

"Another Vulcan?" the Reman asked Karzan. Gupta sensed that this was their leader.

Yes," Gupta interjected. He was about to take another gut shot when their leader stopped that.

"Let him speak F'Nar," the leader said. He eyed Karzan. "Your brain is different too. But I would have to be more intrusive and that could kill an old one such as yourself."

"Why not kill them Brinza?" F'Nar asked. "They are nothing but lower class wuf'n. They will inform on us just as fast as these would have." F'Nar pointed at the corpses of the monitors. The monitor leader still lay bleeding on the ground.

Two Remans pulled the officer up by his shoulders. A third removed a large heavy bladed knife from his belt. The blade was the size of a small sword. Gupta was amazed when he realized that the knife wielder was a female. He had become accustomed to male dominated Romulan society. He looked away when the Reman female started to methodically hack and saw at the monitor's neck. One of his captors grabbed Tarang's head and turned it, forcing him to watch. The Romulan screamed until his vocal chords were cut. The female pulled the head away and looked into the monitor's dead and terrified eyes.

"For my young that died of the bone death!" she proclaimed. "May you rot in vorta-tx!" The Reman tossed the severed head to the ground.

"I may kill them F'Nar," Brinza said. "I haven't decided yet." The Reman looked intently at Pakesh.

One of Pakesh's captors held his arm up for them to see. "A member of the guild!" the Reman announced, displaying Pakesh's tattoo.

"That is a point in their favor," Brinza said. "The guild has always treated us well." Brinza looked at Gupta. Tarang felt a brief mental intrusion. "What of you earther; will you liberate my race? What are you doing here except to make mischief."

"I don't want to be here," Gupta confessed. "We were abducted and brought here." He gestured at Karzan and T'Pol.

"I have lived on Romulus all of my life," Karzan announced. Gupta winced internally. He did not know what these Remans were doing but he felt that the praetor should keep his identity secret.

"That sounds like truth old one," Brinza said. The Reman looked at the captive group. "I doubt that there is a plil of truth between the three of you: an enigma, a supposed savior and a crook," Brinza said looking in turn at Karzan, T'Pol and Pakesh. He looked back at Karzan. "I have been a slave all of my life on this world. Enough, it is over. While that one's race," he looked at Tarang, "is engaged against the empire we saw our chance. The mines are closed. There is no one to repair your ships."

"You are revolting!" Gupta exclaimed.

"The price will lay heavy on you," Pakesh said.

"To remain slaves or have our freedom?" F'Nar asked. "This world's energy comes from the mines. The hook noses won't bomb the mines. They might as well surrender to the Triple Alliance if they do. We on Romulus are prepared to die: whether it is fighting the oppressors or being caught and executed it matters little. We will have accomplished our goal."

"What goals?" T'Pol asked. "This revolt seems pointless and illogical."

"We want left alone on our world," Brinza replied. "Does it surprise you that we would desire such a planet? When you dwell beneath the bright sun? That is our home. We still treasure it as such."

Karzan seemed to be recovering a little from his beating. "What of the initiatives to grant your race self rule?" the praetor asked.

"Now I become convinced that I've set upon a group of escaped mon'zel't," Brinza commented. "The initiatives," Brinza continued. Gupta could hear the bitterness in the Reman's voice. "It must have made the praetor feel good for while he still had a mind. Talk, talk and more talk, and always a reason why our overseers had to stay; always a reason that the yoke couldn't be loosened and now a war where our very youngest are being sent into the deep mines."

"We were to remove the overseers and appoint home rule for the clans," Karzan said. Gupta could see that he was clearly taken aback. "The legions being garrisoned there were to be released for other uses. It was thought that the Remans could become productive citizens…I do not know what happened."

"Like one slave can affect the outcome for another," Brinza countered bitterly. The Reman eyed them all harshly. "You…are just the same as us. Your petty government officials have sold their allegiances to the Tal Shiar. Your aristocracy is no more. That fool Karzan is just a stuffed figurehead."

"This is all horribly awry," Karzan lamented. "There are over two hundred thousand soldiers on Remus."

The female laughed gleefully. "There are none now! We have been preparing this since we saw that the praetor meant nothing with the self rule initiatives. Those officers were only too happy to have us in their private quarters to clean their filth. They acted like young aristocrats, so angry that they had to soil themselves by being stationed on our world. Now they will stay there forever! Now they are soil!"

"What do you want?" Karzan asked weakly. "What are you fighting for?

Gupta could only imagine how Karzan must feel over the loss of that many soldiers. Romulans were trained to be prepared to sacrifice their lives for the empire. But the sacrifice was not supposed to be meaningless or over what was preventable. Gupta knew that Karzan had regrets over the war dead. He had never intended for this war to happen, but it was too late now and regrets were all anyone had.

"We just want what was promised," Brinza said. "There is no place to go and we won't be kevat'n in this war. There is no reason to believe that these hewmaans or their allies are any better than you wuf'n. When the senate grants home rule we will supply the empire with fuel. It will be at a cost this time and our race will no longer accept our status as slaves."

"Why bother with these hook nosed wuf'n, Brinza?" F'Nar asked. He pointed his weapon at T'Pol's head. "Let's kill them and be done with it."

Brinza looked at them for a long time. "The guild has helped us before and these others seem like lost fools. Let them go. They will probably be dead before too much longer. Perhaps they can tell the other wuf'n what we want. We must busy ourselves for the skaal. Get along now!" he ordered them harshly.

Gupta went to Karzan whose breath was coming in whistling gasps. The praetor did not refuse his help as Tarang put his arm under his thin shoulders. The group ambled away slowly, impeded by the older Romulan. The Remans faded into the woods as mysteriously as they had appeared. They walked in silence. Gupta was concerned about Karzan until his breathing seemed to improve. He did not disdain Gupta's support however.

"They are assembling to attack the city," Karzan said.

"Praetor we have been lucky. There is no reason to assume," Pakesh began.

"I was garrisoned on Remus as a young soldier," Karzan interrupted. "Skaal is a word in their tongue that signifies a major event. It has been many a tenturn since I've worn a uniform but remember that all citizens are soldiers. Tankaara is a key point in cutting off access to Krocton Segment and the capital. That would cripple Romulus."

"Praetor, what of our air armies?" Pakesh asked.

"Have you seen any aircraft?" Karzan asked. "I have been puzzled by that ever since I woke this dawning."

"We've become fat and decadent. We--I appointed too many pretenders who just wanted a uniform as a decoration. Too many of those took Reman servants. If they have planned this over many turnings then it is not inconceivable for me to believe that they've crippled our aviation."

"They mean to buttress one end of a line of attack," Gupta said. He was still an intelligence officer no matter what else had happened. He remembered the layout of this section of the Culth'lak Continent.

The northern end of Tankaara lay between two rivers and pointed at the capital. Most of the administrators and senators had estates along the Vitenga River. Gupta and T'Pol had seen those on their journey up river. Although a space faring power much of Romulus was similar to twentieth century earth in infrastructure. With the mountains behind Kalenara and the river beneath it the Remans could rampage up the river, destroying the homes of governors as they went. The Romulans would not bombard their own world; at least Gupta believed that they would not. For a war like race the Romulans had never fought a battle on this planet. There were basic training bases on Romulus but except for Remus there was no major military presence on this planet.

"My thought too Tarack," the praetor said.

They climbed a short hill. T'Pol was the first to smell the smoke. They stepped from the dense woods onto a paved but badly maintained road. Across the road several small homes were ablaze. Bedraggled citizens were fighting a losing battle to save their homes. They were carrying buckets of water from a foul looking pond past the burned out remains of a fire fighting vehicle. Some of bodies of the fire crew were torn and mangled. Two were headless.

A female, too old to help stood against a fence, watching over several youngsters. Some of the children were in tears while others merely gaped at the horrific wreck of their homes. One boy asked the old female when they could go home. She recovered somewhat and told him, soon. Karzan shrugged off Gupta and T'Pol's help. He hobbled over to the old female.

"What has happened here?" he asked. Gupta could hear the authority in the old voice.

"The Remans," she said. "They came just after light. They had military weapons. I remember those types of weapons from seeing pictures of my mate; when he was a uhlan. They made us leave our homes and then they set fire to them. We called for the monitors but they were no where! They killed the fire fighters."

"They emptied the monitors out of the city," Karzan told them. "Tell me, mater, which way did they go when they left?"

"They headed to the east," she answered.

A young Romulan male joined them. More like half a male Gupta thought. His right limbs were both prostheses. He must have been one of the wounded veterans lucky enough to have survived. A slight, pretty young Romulan female accompanied him. He knelt to comfort one of the crying children.

"We will stay at mater's house in the city Kili," he told the child. "You know how much you like to go there. You can play with Anox." The child smiled gleefully despite the carnage around her.

"They may have attacked the city already," Karzan told the veteran.

The young Romulan stood up. "No, old one, the fire crew's wireless worked for a little. There is confusion in Nalva and they have attacked the monitor stations but so far they have not moved against the city." He looked hard at Karzan. "You seem familiar old one."

"I hear that all the time," the praetor answered without skipping a beat.

"You all look like you have had a rough time of it," the veteran commented. "At least you have your lives." He looked around. "I don't know what to do. We could defend ourselves if we had weapons."

"What?" Karzan asked, clearly aghast. "Every citizen should be armed. Every citizen could be called upon to fight."

"Where have you been old one?" the young Romulan asked. "Private weapons were taken over five turns ago. I know some in Nalva who hid their guns. I've also heard that a detachment of soldiers landed there."

"Then you think that the city is next?" T'Pol asked.

"Yes," he answered. "They attacked here to lure the fire fighters and monitors away. We'll go there and get her mater," he said as he looked at his mate. "Perhaps we can escape across the river then."

"You will not stay to defend your home; the city?" Karzan asked.

"I was a soldier once," he answered, holding up his artificial arm. "I would fight but I have no weapons. We have no weapons. No one was prepared for this. How would we fight? Who will lead us?"

"I have been gone too long," Karzan said. "I am back." Gupta could feel him exert his mind. He looked hard at the broken ex-soldier. "Gather everyone together. Those that can't walk must be carried or left behind. We'll go to Nalva and make a defense there." He raised his voice. Gupta wondered where the loud, strong voice was coming from. "All of you, you cannot save your homes here. We are Romulans. We survive. We conquer! Gather what is useful! We will make a stand in the city!"

The old Romulan woman looked at Karzan. "You…it cannot be." She started to drop shakily to her knees. Karzan reached out and stopped her.

"I am Praetor Karzan," he declared.

Gupta watched as there were gasps and few peals of laughter from the crowd. There followed a muffled exclamation and several exchanges of 'it's him'. The mood of the mob changed from humor to one of awe. More than a few Romulans dropped to their knees.

"Do not do that!" Karzan ordered. "I have failed you. I have failed in the most important duty that a praetor can have. I must earn your fealty again. Gather what you can carry. We will go to the city!"

"Snap to it!" the young veteran cried. "The praetor has issued a command!"

The stunned crowd milled about and then started moving. Gupta was impressed at the Romulan commitment to duty. He doubted that humans would move that fast, fresh out of a tragedy like this one. Karzan appointed the wounded veteran as his centurion. Gupta discovered that he was named Kataan. Kataan seemed surprised but immediately helped to organize the crowd.

Karzan turned to them. "The Remans would only do this if they could concentrate an attack against Kalenara. They must have migrated here to Tankaara and hid in secret. They will attack the city and then set out for the capital. It is the only way they could defeat us. It is the only possible explanation"

Pakesh laughed. He looked at Gupta and T'Pol. "The Reman was right my praetor: a thief, a savior and a fool. You have this thief's loyalty my praetor." Pakesh looked at Gupta.

Gupta in turn looked at T'Pol. He could feel her mental affirmation. "You have our loyalty too my praetor."

Nalva City, Tankaara Segment, Romulus, the fifteen hundredth turning of the Age of Pentar'n, the season of beginning

"We've lost both Harriers my admiral!" Centurion Shinza proclaimed. "The snag'n have ground-to-air launchers. The pilots didn't have a chance!"

"Doubtless they used the old b'trila shoulder fired missile launcher," Valdore replied. He remembered reading about large amounts of antiquated arms coming up missing. Government administrators quick to defend their jobs had dismissed his worries as baseless.

Yet he could not blame them. Valdore had had no clear idea of where the weapons had been going. He asked about Riitraxa.

"Major Denaton reports that the Reman maintenance teams had bombs imbedded in their bodies," Shinza informed him. "The shuttle bays are unusable and admiral…over two thirds of the crew was killed when the ship was depressurized. The major barely had enough crew to get out of orbit and contain the damage. He also wanted me to tell you personally that The Praetor's Hand's ship was destroyed; probably by Remans, he did not know."

Valdore looked at a burning building. It had been a monitor station. He gestured at the gutted corpses that were stationed outside of the building. The humans had had a way of executing their own: crucifixion. That was the fate that had befallen these monitors. Valdore ordered the bodies taken down and burned.

He stopped a passing uhlan. "What is your name soldier?" he snapped. Valdore knew the name of each and every member of the assault team. He had asked merely to get an impression of this soldier's mettle.

"Artrax admiral," the uhlan answered. Valdore was pleased to respect without fear. He looked past the uhlan to the crashed shuttle beyond. If the landing had been reversed his ship would lay smoldering. As it was he had less than half a limati at his disposal; nineteen soldiers with few senior uhlans and officers for guidance.

"You are Centurion Artrax now," he said. Valdore hoped that his judgment about this young Romulan was correct. "Detail five uhlans to set up a defensive orbis at the end of this section." It looked to Valdore like his new centurion had a different opinion. "Speak up if you disagree, centurion."

"Admiral Valdore, I grew up not far from here," Artrax explained. "A small hill overlooks this section." He pointed to where he meant. "We used to…we used to throw sacks of flaming d'plis at the entrance of the monitor station and then hide until they came out to stomp it out. They would chase us to the hill. We would hide up there until their anger went away." The new centurion smiled. "No one can come from behind that hill without going around the freight access road." Artrax's smile vanished. He was plainly mortified by the repercussions of his confession. There were limits to his strength Valdore realized.

Valdore wanted to laugh despite the situation. Instead he said: "I used to do much the same when I was your age," he said in a reassuring tone. Actually he had never done things like that until his appointment to Norcela. He reached out and laid his gloved hand on the young Romulan's shoulder. "I've dispatched the other centi on a mission to plant mines along that access. This battle…our enemy is without hope. They will be all the more dangerous for that. Understand that Artrax and fight them as if they are as deadly as a Triple Alliance adversary."

"Admiral Valdore…how could this have happened?" the soldier asked. Artrax's fear was replaced with curiosity.

Valdore wanted to lie. He wanted to lie to protect the image of the empire that this young soldier had. He did not. "Because centurion, those that we trusted to handle security issues turned their spies onto lawful citizens of the empire instead of looking where the dangers were," he answered.

"Do not fear to ask questions. But right now I need you to attend to your duties. It is plain that this first attack was done before their forces were fully marshaled. Perhaps a vigilant monitor saw an increased number of Remans. We'll find out why after we defeat them. All they need to do is secure this position. With no air army opposed to them they will be in a direct line to attack Kalenara."

"I shall do as you command admiral," Artrax answered, saluted gravely and turned to his duties.

They had waited. No citizen would go into a Reman warren. How many turns had they spent assembling fighters and procuring weapons? The home defense forces would recover in a few dawnings and be in a position to land troops. But would that come in time? Valdore determined that he would defend his empire. If it took the fleet a turn to recover then Valdore and his victorious forces would be here waiting. A darkness crept into his very marrow.

In a turn a fleet might land relief forces: a Triple Alliance fleet. It was imperative that he deal with this threat now. Time was not an ally of the rebels, nor was an ally of the empire. He too had duties to attend to.

San Francisco, California, the old United States, earth, Dec 2158

Jocelyn Stiles had been pleased by the news that Trip Tucker would be here. She was nervous and had decided to come clean with him about her procuring of his code groups before the attack on Deneva. Her mother had been a voice of morality. Stiles also heard her father's voice telling her that doing the right thing sometimes hurt. Jocelyn wondered how much hurt. She waited at her mother's assigned residence. These homes, built on the site of an old military base, still reminded her more of military billeting than houses for politicians. She stood looking out of the patio doors onto the beach below.

Cool December air blew through her clothing. She had disdained her uniform for this meeting. Stiles had chosen a tight fitting dress that was neither formal nor provocative. Her mother had characterized it best as saying that it showed off her best features as well as good character. Stiles feet were uncomfortable in the matching heels, but she looked good and knew it. She slid the door shut when she heard the front door open. Trip would have knocked. Commander Jeffrey Sutton stood in the doorway. Stiles knew that he was still a political advisor to his mother.

Sutton wore his duty uniform though he was just returning to active duty. The docs had grafted one of his new lungs into him. He breathed better and seemed to be more himself than he had been. Sutton seemed at a loss for words when he beheld her. Stiles also remembered her mother's confession that Sutton was attracted to Jocelyn. He did not remove his blue foul weather jacket. He looked at her and said nothing. She greeted him. He returned the greeting awkwardly.

"Mama is in council if you want to--"

"Right," he interrupted. "Right…I…I needed to tell her that BuPer has moved me to light duty. I won't be able to…to see her…to act as her political advisor anymore."

"You could have left a message," she told him.

More silence. "I wanted to see…I wanted to see you," he answered at last. He looked her up and down. "You look good. Tucker is coming isn't he? I mean I know that Trafalgar is in orbit."

She nodded. "He is going to meet me here, yes."

He smiled sadly. "He's a lucky man commodore." Stiles knew that he wanted to say more. She hoped that he did not.

"Jocelyn is fine," she answered. "Looks like I'll be back in the saddle pretty soon."

"I've heard the rumors; a big push," he said. "They will need the best officers we have. Taskforce 18 is supposed to be completely rearmed and ready."

She nodded. It was pointless swapping rumors and that was all she had. Stiles had indeed been ordered to HQ by Admiral Forrest. She had connected the dots about the rest. Her taskforce was ready and rumors abounded about a new major offensive. Stiles also listened to the political winds. The new alliance was strained. The new ships didn't come cheap. There seemed little else to say.

"I just thought that I'd stop by and wish you luck," Sutton said. He extended his hand. She reached out to take his. Stiles absently looked at her painted nails. She had not applied that cosmetic touch since high school.

Her hand was warm in his. He leaned in quickly, embraced her and kissed her. Stiles started to push him away and then stopped. The kiss was passionate. She returned it but without his fervor. He backed away from her and released her. He had that same sad smile.

"Tucker's a lucky man," Sutton said. "I love you Jo-jo. I always have. It is not about getting over Talas. The docs talked to me about that. She's a part of my life that's over. She was a good part. It's just that…all that time we spent helping your mom and then on Tortuga. The more I got to know you the more I realized how I felt." Sutton sighed and shook his head. He reached out to touch her cheek. "I just wanted you to know."

"I don't know what to say," she answered. "You know that me and Trip…"

He shook his head. "Don't say anything." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a letter. "It's handwritten. My dad would call it cheesy. I'm not sure what that means. It's for your mom. I just wanted to thank her for pulling me back from the edge." Sutton handed her the letter. "Good luck commodore—in everything."

"Good luck to you," she answered slowly. He turned around and stood in the doorway for a few seconds. She looked past him to see Trip Tucker headed up the walk. He turned back to her, smiled and left. He saluted Tucker as the two passed. Trip stopped and banged on the doorframe.

She invited him in. Stiles ran to him and hugged him. It didn't take but a few seconds for her to realize that he was not returning the gesture. She backed up. He was visibly frowning at her. Stiles felt a stab in her heart that she hadn't felt since she had discovered that David had been killed on Salem One. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry…sorry…Trip," she said.

"You used me," he declared. "You used to me to get the codes to disable the battle network. You just had to be there; had to get in your jab in at the Birdies. Hell Jo-jo, I don't want to negotiate with them! But maybe if we had talked to them we'd have learned enough to beat them sooner! Did it feel good to press the buttons and burn them up?"

Her anger boiled to the surface. Stiles was sorry for what had happened. She was sorry that a single Romulan had ever lived to come to earth. She was sorry for those who had died. They hadn't seen it coming. She was sorry for David and her father. She was sorry for every person her age that had had their lives ripped apart.

"Yes!" she roared back. Tucker actually took a step back. "Yes! I did that," she exclaimed. Spittle flew out of her lips. "The only trouble I have is that none of them suffered." He opened his mouth to speak. "You wait a minute! I was right about them from the git-go!" Stiles realized that her native accent was asserting itself. "They aren't going to stop. They don't know what mercy is. They live for war!"

"You can't know--"

"Yes, damn you I do know! I know exactly who I'm dealing with!"

He shook his head. "No, how can you when you don't even know me."

"I'm sorry about your goddamned career! There were other things that seemed more important then."

Tucker laughed bitterly. "I don't give a damn about my career. You lied. You used me and then you lied about it. I loved you. I thought that we were lucky to have each other after what had happened. I know that you hate the Birdies. But Jo-jo, you let that hate make you do something that was wrong. Did you tell your mother what you did?"

The noise from her slapping him was explosive. Tucker looked back at her and frowned even more. "Good, get it out of your system. Did you tell your mother? I mean if it was so right then you must have—"

"No damnit!" she shot back. "They had to be taught a lesson. They only understand strength. I had to…" She stumbled as tears burst forth from her eyes. "Goddamned butcherin' bastards!" she said as she ran to him.

He comforted her as one does a friend. All of this time she had heard her father's voice warning her. Stiles had gotten some revenge but deep down she felt empty. Beneath the rage and hatred there was nothing. That emptiness was worse than anything. Jocelyn realized just how much she had clung to the rage to avoid that nothingness. She cried as she had not since she was a little girl. She gradually regained control.

She wiped at her nose. "You…you're right," Stiles blubbered. She touched his arm. "I love you Trip. I love you more than anything. I…it was there. It was almost like I couldn't stop it. It's eaten at me ever since."

Tucker dabbed at his eyes. He shook his head. His countenance was mournful, as if he had just discovered that an old friend had just died. Stiles realized that he was looking into her soul. Sure it had eaten at her. Yet she had had numerous times where she could have told him. She hadn't. He knew it.

"I'm not asking you anything for me. I'm asking for you. You need to tell Admiral Forrest what happened. It's not my career I care about. It is about doing the right thing. I know it hurts. I still think about Elizabeth. But if I killed every single Romulan nothing would change. You're right about the torn lives. But one day it'll be over. For your own good go and confess. So when that day comes you can move on. I loved you, but I don't trust you." Tucker shook his head. "See you around the galaxy commodore." He turned and left.

Stiles stood there for some time. Mama would not be home for several hours. She stripped the dress off and threw it in the trash. The shoes followed. Jocelyn dug in the closet for a uniform. She would see if Admiral Forrest would see her sooner.

Nalva City, Tankaara Segment, Romulus, the earth winter of 2158,

Tarang Gupta stepped back into the slice made by the small brook. He knelt down. The small mountain overlooked Nalva from the west. Karzan had surmised that the Remans would send foragers through the woods and then down the mountainside while making a simultaneous approach down the western road. Karzan had made Gupta a centurion and gave him a limati; forty Romulans many of whom had seen too many turnings and many who had seen too few.

He looked through an antiquated optical scope into the deep woods. A Romulan boy lay not too far from him. He too had an antiquated type of weapon. Gupta looked around him after sweeping the woods to find nothing. The youth was looking at him with a mix of hero worship and fear. He smiled at the Romulan who he guessed was lucky to have seen ten turns.

"Remember, aim and shoot just like your father showed you," Gupta said. Hunting was a sport here much like on earth. Gupta saw little use in it. Many citizens had kept guns in secret and risked their liberty to go out and hunt.

"Yes Centurion Tarack!" the boy exclaimed. There was a short pause: "Are you really the heir to the praetor?" he asked.

Gupta wanted to laugh. "No, just a loyal citizen, just like your father," he answered.

"My father is killing many hewmaan'n. He is a great soldier."

Tarang winced. His father was killing his people. "I'm sure that your father is a great warrior, as you will be Si'tel."

He stopped to scan the woods again. There was movement. Tarang had earlier mistaken the movement of a type of bison for the Remans. He had since taken an almost cavalier attitude toward this task. It may be that the Reman rebels would come from another direction entirely. That was not to be. Gupta clearly saw the vampire like image of a Reman. He cursed under his breath.

The defenders had arrived here and hastily set up this skirmish line. Rumors abounded that a small force of real soldiers were holding across the city. These were not real soldiers that were under Gupta's command. The Reman had a small mic wrapped around his head unlike anybody in Tarang's unit. Gupta's makeshift limati had no such fineries. They were reliant upon hand signals and faked animal noises. Gupta looked again.

More attackers became visible. The Remans were almost an elil away. Gupta held up his fist. He was distracted when he heard a strange, distant sound. It was like a giant zipper being opened and closed. Gupta remembered that sound. His instructor in ground tactics and small arms at Khadakvasla had fired such a weapon. The final genesis of the machine gun; earth's version had been developed early during the twenty-first century. This had to be an alien relative to that gun that he was hearing Tarang thought.

Gupta turned to his left and right. His soldiers were holding up their fists and confirming that the line was ready. Tarang had planned hastily. He remembered that old class at Khadakvasla and how everyone at scoffed at the class and instruction of Subedar Major Carmody. Now less than a few years later he was clumsily instructing others in the construction of bombs using petro chemicals and construction materials. He remembered the subedar's incessant drills out on the dusty plains that surrounded his academy. He hoped that it worked as Carmody had said. It had back then, it should now. He lowered his fist and sighted.

He saw a Reman in the corner of the scope's field of view. He thought of Elcan. Had gentle Elcan been a part of this? This alien was not the target of this bullet. The cracks of rifles did not distract him. He looked past the Reman to what looked like a piphleggi nest. This bit of leaves and branches did not however house the winged Romulan version of the squirrel. Gupta fired. He saw a flash of red through the scope just before he pulled his eye away.

Low booms sounded and fire burst out as several apparent piphleggi nests exploded and spewed out nails, screws and burning death. Gupta bellowed an order to fall back. He stayed low but started to scramble out of the brook when he glanced back and saw a screaming Reman attacker, his entire body engulfed in flame charging through the forest. Si'tel saw the same thing and was transfixed with terror at the sight. Gupta pulled out the Romulan version of semi automatic pistol, slung his rifle over his shoulder and leapt back into the brook. He seized the youth by the collar of his tunic and hauled him along.

He heard squeals as bullets flew past them. The bark of a tree exploded before him. Gupta looked down and saw that Si'tel was running on his own steam. He let the Romulan boy go. Si'tel ran along with him. An abandoned factory sat atop a winding road; the only vehicular access to this end of the mountain range. That was where the praetor and Gupta had decided to make a second stand.

Gupta's limati held a position on the southern end of a north-south running mountain range. The range was separated by a mighty notch hewn by the passage of a once great river. A main highway ran along the floor of the notch. The highway paralleled a creek, the remains of the river. That was to the right and below Gupta, almost sixteen hundred elt'n down. Tarang figured that the zipper sounding gun was mounted on a vehicle that was navigating that road below.

They had discovered that the Remans had attacked a basic training facility some distance from the city. A civilian survivor had reported being taken prisoner and made to witness the slaughter of the trainees. According to the survivor the base had a few working ground assault vehicles. Those were probably in rebel hands. He hoped that the praetor's limati'n could hold off the attack from that vehicle. At least the defenders would not have to worry about fire from the towering cliff tops. Gupta's unit was taking care of that.

"The factory centurion!" the youth gasped as he picked up speed and plunged ahead of Tarang.

The bullets were thinning out. The Remans must be moving more cautiously. The moss and vine covered modules of the old factory lay just ahead. It had been an old munitions plant that had been consolidated into a more modern facility in another segment. The smell of industrial waste was still present despite the tenturn long closure. That waste, much to Tarang's delight, was flammable. Gupta collapsed and rolled beneath a fence line. He dropped a few elt'n to a crumbling walkway. He immediately turned and hefted his rifle. A piece of masonry exploded behind and above him. Si'tel was trying to peer over the lip of the walkway.

"Into the basement with you!" he ordered the young Romulan.

He caught sight of a Reman who was in the process of aiming at him. Gupta fired in panic and ducked as more masonry exploded and rained down on him. He moved a little to the left and popped up again. This time he did not need the rifle's scope to see his enemies. He fired. A tall pale Reman clutched at his abdomen and fell to his knees. Gupta ducked down again.

"I want to stay here with you Tarack!" the youth insisted.

"I'll be right there!" he said. He knelt and grabbed a bottle full of lubricant. The bottle had a piece of cloth hanging from its neck.

Gupta lit the makeshift wick while thanking the memory of an innovative Fin and Subedar Carmody. Several of his soldiers did likewise. The bottles of flammable lubricant went flying toward the attackers. Tarang turned and sprinted for the basement entrance. He noticed that more than a few of his soldiers stared in awe at the results of the Molotov Cocktails. Romulans had never fought a guerrilla war among themselves. He roared at them to get moving.

Gupta was the last to enter the darkened basement passage. A few of the stouter Romulans helped him close and brace a rusted door. They turned and ran. He used his hand torch to see as he ran along. An explosive blast echoed behind him. The door was flying down the passageway toward him. He turned a corner just in time to avoid being cut into half by the door.

His chest was heaving when he was dazzled and blinded by sunlight. He was out! Gupta squinted through burning tearful eyes for the edge of the patio that he knew was here. He found it. His feet slipped and he rolled down the steep wooded hillside. Gupta slammed up hard against a tree. The old factory was almost a hundred and fifty elt'n above him. The explosion was devastating. Tarang felt as if he'd taken a punch to his stomach. The air was sucked from his lungs.

"Are you alright Centurion Tarack?" Si'tel's young face floated before Gupta's.

"Yes, yes I am," he replied. He stood up. "Let's get down to the city."

They slid more than walked down the extreme incline. The trees were helpful as handholds. Gupta was heedless of pursuit. Whatever or whoever had been on the top of that mountain were dead. Gupta started seeing a street and the small ornate houses of a Romulan neighborhood. He slid a few elt'n to the street. He wanted desperately to catch his breath but had no time. A few beaten looking civilians greeted them. An old Romulan female offered him a drink of cold water from a pitcher.

Gupta drank greedily. He stopped when he beheld a tall Romulan soldier replete with battle armor, walking toward him. Had these ragtag forces linked up with the soldiers in the city? Gupta didn't know what to do or say. The soldier removed his helmet. Gupta found himself gaping at Praetor Karzan. The old Romulan looked and acted like a Romulan half of his age. Pakesh trailed the Romulan leader. Gupta's old chief had taken up a sort of aide-de-camp role. Karzan was busy shouting orders.

A few Romulans were busy packing a disabled groundcar with oils and cleaning chemicals. The zipper sound erupted from the street below. It was answered by single shots from the defenders' older weapons. The zipper sounded again. An ornate brick pyramidal home exploded into dust. The defenders here were not faring well. The group finished with the car. An ugly gray, tracked vehicle popped up over a low hill below them. Gupta saw Kataan and a few older Romulans push the broken car. Kataan tossed a grenade into it as it rolled on its own. They all dived for cover.

The heavy duty machine gun fired. Fragments of pavement exploded all around Tarang. A massive explosion knocked the wind out of him for the second time today. Gupta rolled up. He spat dust out of his mouth. Karzan was already on his feet giving orders. The praetor was joined by another group of amateur soldiers. Gupta was relieved to see that one of them was T'Pol. He struggled to his feet.

T'Pol surprised him by kissing him deeply. "You do not look well," she commented after the kiss.

He wiped at his brow. His hand came away with dirt and ash and sweat. He looked at her. "You look lovely."

"There will be time for that later!" Karzan shouted. The admonishment was meant to be humorous yet Tarang could see that the old Romulan was angry and frustrated.

"We defeated the ones coming down the mountain praetor," Gupta informed him. He hoped that the news would improve the old leader's mood.

"We have to move toward the city center," Karzan said. "Those assault vehicles are from the Alezaar Training Base. There are more of them coming from the north western highway."

"I thought that there were only a few?" Gupta asked.

"Our witness might have been released by the Remans for misinformation," Karzan said. "We must make our way toward the center, while there is still time." The group of disheveled Romulans fell in behind the praetor. Karzan motioned for Gupta to come to his side. The old Romulan spoke to him in a soft voice meant only for Tarang to hear.

"We surprised them with our resistance here. But we cannot win without the air armies. We can slow them but I believe they will surround us in the center while the bulk of their forces go down river."

Down river, down river by foot might have allowed time for the Romulan air forces to deal with the rebels. But down river by vehicle would put the capital in danger in a few turns. As attractive as a Reman victory might seem to Gupta and the Star Fleet he understood that it would be a disaster. How many administrators and aristocrats would the Remans kill? Gupta believed that if the shell of Romulan society was ripped off chaos would ensue. The military would be free to rampage through space while the Romulan homeworld would crumble.

Gupta would have found a way to support the Remans but he knew that they would be nothing but temporary rulers. If the allies landed here, and they would surely have to land: it would become a bloodbath for the occupiers. This war had to end, as repugnant as it might be, with the present government in charge. Anything else would be a disaster for everyone.

Nalva City, Tankaara Segment, Romulus, the fifteen hundredth turning of the Age of Pentar'n, the season of beginning

Valdore leaned out, sighted along the launcher's electronic acquisition system, lined up his target and fired. The small guided missile was no bigger than a young M'Linga hawk. It was far more deadly than that particular bird of prey. The missile detonated just short of the gray armored vehicle. A second explosion followed, sending a high speed sabot into the carrier's soft interior. The armored car exploded. Another took its place. Valdore had no more missiles for that threat.

Artrax led his troops on a crisscrossing run to cover. All of the soldiers made it safely save for one whose body exploded when shells from the carrier's tan'zel repeating rifle tore through him. Reman rebels fired from crouching runs from behind the cover of the armored carrier. Valdore heard the telltale zing of bullets flying past him. He discarded the launcher and sprinted behind a piece of decorative wall that had once concealed a small well manicured yard.

He found Artrax directing a group of civilians in laying down a pattern of counter fire. It had confounded Valdore that it had taken so long to convince the citizens that they were not here to arrest them for gun ownership. Artrax was doing a good job with the citizens but they were fighting a losing battle. Hunting rifles and antiquated military trophies were no match for the firepower that the rebels had acquired.

"My apologies my admiral I failed--"

"Rest easy centurion," Valdore told Artrax. "The empire can demand your life but it does not require you to spend it uselessly." He was surprised that the former uhlan had did as well as he had. The hill he had been defending was aflame. "We must pull back. There are civilians mounting a defense in the city center."

"Admiral Valdore…we will be surrounded," Artrax said.

"This city is powered by one of the older nuclear piles," Valdore explained. "If I cannot see any other way then we must destroy that."

"I grew up here…admiral," Artrax replied. He was clearly appalled by Valdore's plan.

"I understand." Valdore knew that few commanders would bother to explain a decision to a subordinate. "Our entire world is in danger centurion. You do understand that the Triple Alliance is still out there. While these rebels are tying our hands here, our real enemy is advancing. We need to stop this, even if it means our deaths."

"But an old reactor such as that admiral," Artrax said.

"Will not produce a large explosion," Valdore finished. "It can be made to contaminate this entire area so that nothing lives. I know that your parents live just outside of the city. I hope that they escape but remember what we are, what they are."

"We are Romulans admiral," Artrax said. He could hear the young soldier's reluctance but also his acceptance.

"Let's move!" he shouted. Valdore hadn't snapped commands like this since he had been a recruit.

The civilians and his soldiers turned and started an ordered retreat. Valdore could feel their anger: anger from the civilians at having to abandon their homes, anger from his troops because Romulan soldiers had their backs to an enemy. The group of almost seventy scrambled through narrow twisting alleyways. They had little time.

Several of his legionnaires ran with him. Valdore appreciated the loyalty but he did not appreciate the stupidity. The Remans would soon figure that he was someone of importance and needed to be killed. He ordered his escorts to fan out. Too late a blinding laser beam passed through one of them. The older uhlan looked puzzled for a brief time. The left upper quadrant of his torso fell to the ground. The soldier ran on for a few steps before collapsing.

Valdore felt the impact of the explosion before he heard it. His limati'n had salvaged enough explosives and thruster fuel from the Harriers to blow up several of the homes. One of the older civilian volunteers was skilled at construction. He had showed Valdore's soldiers where to place charges to bring the buildings down into the street. Valdore turned to see a pall of dust climbing into the sky. The gunfire subsided.

The fighters boarded what few groundcars there were. Valdore hung on the outside of a modified ground coach. They needed speed to get to the center of Nalva. The wind blew through his hair as the driver sped up. He felt alive. Several defenders cheered as they passed by. These were Romulans who were near the end of their span. They had agreed to set up in an irregular centi in order to ambush the rebels. Valdore doubted that any of them would live.

The admiral looked off to his right and the El'Nado River. The main section of Nalva sat the confluence of the river and a creek. Valdore planned on blowing up the bridge that straddled the creek. That would slow the Remans while he either devised a better scheme or detonated the reactor. He looked ahead when the driver slowed the former delivery coach. Armed civilians waited across the bridge. Valdore stuck his head into the driver's compartment.

"Stop halfway across driver," he told the old one who was driving the coach.

"Yes my admiral!" the civilian croaked. Valdore figured that the driver must have five tenturns on him. Yet the old one had killed two Remans in close quarter combat, using only an ancient sidearm with amazing speed and accuracy.

Valdore stepped off of the coach as it slowed to a crawl. He held out his hand in a gesture of parlay. The civilians looked at him in wonder. He walked over to the pickets. Valdore was surprised to see another soldier. This one was busy giving orders to the throng of civilians that surrounded him. Valdore saw that the uniform must have belonged to an older Romulan. The style was from forty tenturns ago. The pickets guarding the bridge parted to let him pass. The legionnaire removed his battle helmet. It was an older Romulan, Valdore observed. His back was to him but Valdore could plainly see the officer's head of thick gray hair.

"Who are you?" he demanded of the soldier.

Valdore took a step back as the soldier turned on him. "I am praetor of the Romulan Empire, Admiral Valdore."

Valdore barely saw the blur of motion. A bedraggled looking beggar came out of nowhere and tackled him. He could hear Artrax's warning shout as he hit the ground. Valdore's turns of hand to hand combat training helped him get out from beneath the attacker. He drew his service knife from his boot.

"Where's the cure you v'roul?" Valdore found himself confronting an angry Tarang Gupta. The former human lashed out with his foot and knocked the knife away. Valdore saw Artrax aiming his sidearm at Gupta.

"Stay!" the praetor ordered.

"Halt Centurion Artrax!" he shouted in turn. Valdore realized that none of his machinations mattered before all of these Romulan soldiers and citizens. If he failed to obey the lawful ruler of the empire quite likely Artrax or another from his own centi would put a bullet in his brain. Artrax lowered his pistol.

Some of the citizens were restraining the human. Valdore noticed that that act was reluctant on their part. Valdore stood up slowly. It occurred to him to bow before Karzan. A lucky Reman sniper might see him deferring to a superior and take care of his problem. No, he thought, he needed to assess what had happened.

"It is good to see you again my praetor," he said.

Karzan looked hard at him. "My centurion has asked a question of you Admiral Valdore." Had the human told the praetor everything? Karzan gave him a knowing look. "I do not have the cure with me of course."

"Neither Tarack nor T'Pol have competed the task that you appointed for them," Karzan said. "That is good for you that they did not; good for your inner being. You would become just another actor, like the Tal Shiar, like Vrinak was." So Vrinak was no more, he mused. "I require you to administer the cure for the virus to Promise, admiral."

"I shall do so when we are at a place where that is possible my praetor," he answered formally. Apparently the human and Vulcan had secured the praetor's favor. Valdore had not foreseen that happening.

One of his uhlans ran across the bridge to join them. The young soldier stood agape when he saw the praetor and realized who he was. The soldier had the weight of a salvaged communications' unit from their Harrier slung across his back.

"Report, Uhlan U'Lamez!" he snapped.

U'Lamez stood staring at Karzan while doing as Valdore ordered: "Admiral Valdore, Major Denaton is calling. He has managed to make a close approach and break through the interference."

"If I may praetor," he said as he helped the uhlan remove his burden. He hit the unit's reply. Denaton's voice was barely discernible through the static. Valdore acknowledged the transmission and then listened.

"Shuttles taken for scheduled—" A short burst of static obscured the next. "Destroyed," Denaton's voice announced. "Possible sighting of a Triple Alliance ship at ArTaza'x," Denaton continued. The transmission was becoming clearer. "Few shuttles left to send down even an assault limati'n. I'll assemble a team but it leaves almost no shuttles to make major repairs to our ships."

"Has an assessment been made of what is going on?" he asked the major.

"The Remans have cut off the entire sector around you admiral," Denaton replied. "Most aircraft were attacked and destroyed across the planet. They were destroyed before they could become airborne. There have been attacks in all major cities. There is resistance from citizens but many have been slaughtered. Retinga City was burned completely."

Valdore put together what else he had heard. He remembered signing the orders for shuttle maintenance himself. He had been somewhat surprised that so many were due maintenance all at this time. Valdore had put it down to war time scheduling.

"Tell me of ArTaza'x," he told his officer. The empire had conquered the mind aliens when Valdore had been a youth.

"The Remans in service with the Nineteenth Legion revolted admiral," Denaton answered. "Colonel Munalez survived an assassination attempt. He reports that the aflel'n seem complacent and unaware of the revolt. But without Reman oversight he has withdrawn past a boundary so as not to taken by their mental powers. He reported that a ship that they had at first taken for one of ours attacked several of his ships. Later examination shows that the ship's power wave matched the matter annihilation generators of Triple Alliance ships. It will be many dawnings before Munalez receives an answer. Admiral…he has asked whether it is now prudent to bombard ArTaza'x."

"That world is full of natural resources admiral," Karzan said. "If you fear an alliance encroachment, it will matter little whether the planet's populace is there or not. It would be sound to assemble an attack group to augment the nineteenth. We may be able to obtain Reman help again."

"Negotiation?" he asked. Was the old fool actually considering such with these traitors?

"Admiral, I was drugged by Vrinak. But my mind is intact again; for a little longer. I maintained private access to information. I know what condition the economy is in. I know how this world stands. What is your suggestion; bombing Remus? Will the legions mine the radioactives that we need? If they do, then who will defeat the alliance?"

The praetor was right of course. Valdore had come bitterly to the same conclusion. He told Denaton to organize a strike force to go to ArTaza'x. The major could spare few shuttles. Valdore started to order those deployed here to protect the capital when the praetor intervened again.

"We cannot allow Romulus to burn admiral," Karzan said. "Use what air power you can muster to attack the worst of the ground incursions. It is up to us to fight here."

Gun fire erupted behind Valdore. He was growing to despise the tearing staccato sound of the tan'zel rifle. The enriched slugs from the Reman held weapon tore through a hastily constructed line of ground vehicles. They also tore through the flesh of several luckless civilians. One of his soldiers shot a screaming citizen defender whose intestines were spilling to the ground. Valdore could hear the sound of the tracked vehicles on the street pavement. He outlined his plan to Karzan to destroy the city's reactor.

A filthy child ran across the street. He was heading from the direction of the river. The youth, much to Valdore's surprise ran straight for the human. The young male's clothes were torn and covered with dirt. He caught his breath and started speaking. Gupta told him to slow down.

"Centurion Tarack," the child started. Valdore bristled at the rank bestowed upon this human. "Boats, boats coming up the river! Some of them have fired at the snag'n!"

Karzan looked at Artrax. "You there, go to creek wall and check down river." The uhlan responded crisply and departed.

Valdore sprinted with the group for the protection of a wall. Slugs and a few laser beams were finding targets among the defenders. U'Lamez knelt beside him. Valdore was glad that communications were still available with Denaton.

"Take the home defense forces and scout ArTaza'x, major. If an alliance strike is imminent you are to stay and hold there. If Munalez is wrong, then turn about and come back. Leave only a few shuttles to provide air cover here. Defend the cities where the rebels are causing the most mischief and then consolidate to defend the capital."

"We'll take what we can admiral," Denaton answered. "Many of our vessels are badly damaged by sabotage. We could spare a few of those."

"No! Take every ship you can to ArTaza'x!" he exclaimed. "See if you can pull any fighters from spares to augment the Harriers." The speaker of the communications' unit issued forth with a loud burst of static. "The preservation of the empire comes before all else Denaton, Valdore out!"

Valdore suspected that the rebels had set off nuclear devices that had high emitted high volumes of radioactive particulates. At least they had done so beyond the atmosphere. Valdore reluctantly saw the wisdom in the praetor's words. This rebellion could have been far worse. It now seemed obvious that the Remans would negotiate: after they had pushed things to a point. He only hoped that that point was not past the edge of the abyss.

"What of the tactical situation admiral?" the praetor asked. "You will deprive Romulus of our space forces."

"I know the relative positions of the Triple Alliance ships praetor," he explained. Valdore went in as much detail as he dared with the battle raging around them. After the destruction of the shipyard their scouts had ascertained where Forrest had redeployed his ships. Valdore didn't know exactly where his enemy lay but he had a general idea. An attack on ArTaza'x was possible. An attack here was not possible, at least for a quaturn.

Forrest would attack where he chose but space bending only allowed for so much. Valdore had long suspected that the humans had been building an advanced starship. He did believe that that ship, if it existed, was one of a kind. The Triple Alliance was not so unlike them in technology. It took time to field new systems in large numbers. He believed that the ships that the Triple Alliance had were what they would use against them. Any advanced ships would act, probably as scouts.

Valdore was also convinced that Forrest would make incremental strikes against the empire. He would move his forces, securing the worlds behind him until he had a superior position from which to attack Romulus. That was why it was so important that the ships around Venador be released to join the fight. The empire no longer had the forces to fight a long defensive battle. Valdore needed those forces to execute a decisive stroke against the alliance. He saw Gupta's barely concealed scowl when he mentioned that plan.

"I understand your motives admiral," Karzan said. "All of your motives," he added ominously. "Yet I shall defer to your tactical judgment. As far as my imminent removal, you need to consider that things have changed. As you no doubt surmised Vrinak is dead. But the Tal Shiar's hold on our society is very much alive. My death would not help you. We must come together as Romulans at this time. There will be time to cut one another's throats after we have won the war."

"Very well," he answered. Valdore explained his plan to detonate the old reactor. Karzan's face grew hard. Valdore could see his great age reflected in his pain.

Valdore turned to see a rebel armored carrier explode. Something like mortar fire was raining down onto their adversaries. It provided a temporary reprieve. The rebels were bearing down from the west. The praetor's civilian army was being broken. The tattered remnants of defenders started filtering into the city center. They joined the remainder of the city population that was too old or too young to fight.

Artrax came darting from the cover of a shelled out food store. He dived behind the sheltering wall. Valdore peeked up and started shooting at Remans with his sidearm. He had won many shooting competitions during his youth and had continued with sport shooting ever since. Valdore shot two Remans while he listened to his centurion's report.

"Criminal Guild boats my admiral!" Artrax rasped out. "Many of them have makeshift armored plating protecting them. There is a flotilla coming up river. They are taking on refugees!"

"We've been pushed back into Justice Triad my praetor!" a young citizen burst into the group to announce. The young male's right side had been mauled and was replaced with artificial limbs. He must be a veteran.

"Justice Triad, they've just cut us off from the reactor!" Both he and the praetor spoke nearly in unison. He stopped shooting. Knelt, ejected the clip and then put a fresh one in. He glanced at Artrax. "Organize the citizens who can't fight. We must take them to the river. The Remans will have to engage us all the way to Kalenara."

Artrax did as he was ordered. They started a slow retreat to the river. Valdore seen citizens and soldiers fall dead from sniper fire as they went as fast as they could along a road to a heavy freight offloading station. They paralleled the creek to where it joined the river. Valdore looked across the stream as houses were pulverized by mortar fire. He looked ahead and saw the small relief fleet. Puffs of smoke spouted up off of their tiny decks. Explosions tore through the houses.

Valdore heard screaming behind him. A line of Remans had broken their rear defense. The struggling citizens were being mowed down. He was shocked when Gupta leapt past him with the battered veteran Kataan. The two led a detail of citizens who started laying down fire against the marauding Remans. Against his better judgment he broke ranks to join the fighters.

He found himself kneeling behind an abandoned ore carrier with Gupta. The human was firing a captured machine pistol at the advancing Remans. The snag'n were slowing. They had stopped shooting the citizens and were trying to break this new defensive line.

"If there isn't a cure I'll kill you admiral," the human announced coldly as dirt flew up around them.

"I was wrong about you human. I should have killed you and your mate on Vulcan." Valdore popped up and shot a Reman who was in the act of tossing a grenade at them. The alien fell over dead. The grenade's explosion took care of his mates. Gupta was reloading when Valdore knelt back down. "It is my fault. The mature know to accept responsibility. I was a fool to unleash a weapon that I had no control over." The line of Remans thinned. Gupta and Valdore turned, fired, scrambled along and stopped again to supply covering fire.

They both cursed when an armored carrier appeared along the line of their retreat. They had fought their way to the meeting place of the river and the creek. The civilians were climbing slowly down a steep bank. They would never make the boats before the carrier arrived. The soldiers of his limati were for the most part at the water's edge. Valdore signaled for them to tell those on the boats to start firing this way.

A fighter roared by overhead. The carrier exploded killing its crew and the Remans advancing behind it. Valdore thought that the situation was about to be reversed when he saw the final piece of the Reman's strategy. The spherical fighter was turning about when it exploded. An older Falin fighter flew by. So, the rebels had not destroyed all of the aircraft on Romulus. The Falin'n were an older style of fighter aircraft. They had proven useful in wiping the humans off of their colonies during the beginning dawnings' of the war.

The graceful looking plane turned about. Valdore could see that its pilot was not adept at flight. The Falin'n were also excellent ground attack aircraft. Gupta started to shoot at the approaching aircraft.

"Pointless!" Valdore roared as he added his fire to that of the human's.

To his surprise the fighter exploded. Valdore was at a loss as to why until he saw the telltale exhaust trail made by a surface-to-air missile. Gupta slammed into him. The two rolled down the bank. Valdore slammed painfully into a rock. That stopped them and, he suspected broke some of his ribs. He pushed the human off of him. Valdore thought that the human had become enraged and lost his mind until he looked at the top of the bank. Flaming pieces of the downed aircraft were imbedded in the ground where they had stood. Gupta helped him to his feet.

"I would never spare an enemy," he told him as the two ran toward the river's edge.

"I'd let you die if you didn't have the cure admiral," Gupta replied. Massed Remans popped up on the top of the bank. The two of them sprinted down a steeper fold that cut off their adversaries' fire.

The praetor stood with the Vulcan and a tall thin Romulan bearing the tattoo of the guild on his wrist. They were helping the last of the refugees onto a boat. Valdore could plainly see that the Vulcan was lending extra support to Karzan. Was she influencing his mind? They needed to hurry.

Rebels charged down the bank from the north. Valdore wondered at how the Remans had assembled so many without the Tal Shiar's knowledge. Bullets cut through the air all around him. The makeshift armor covering the tramp river trawler erupted into sparks. Valdore slapped his last fresh clip into his pistol. A group of large, clearly suicidal Remans sprinted ahead of the rest. They were shooting as they charged. The bolts on their weapons slammed open as they exhausted their ammunition. The rebels pulled out curved blades. This was perfect.

The Remans would slaughter the praetor, Gupta and the Vulcan. Valdore sprang over the boat's side. He turned as if to shoot. The human's gun was empty. To Valdore's surprise, Gupta turned and shoved T'Pol away. She in turn seized Karzan. Gupta turned the gun around and swung its butt directly into the head of one of the Reman attackers. The tall thin criminal yelled, drew a pistol and started shooting. The group of eight Remans was reduced to two. One of those pulled a small sidearm and aimed it directly at the praetor. The human stepped into the line of fire. Valdore heard shots.

A heavy deck mounted gun had been hastily erected. It's chattering fire broke the rebel charge and slew those near the ramp. The criminal sprang past Valdore and took hold of the human as Gupta collapsed backwards. Blood pumped out of ragged holes in his chest. The boat jerked when its prop bit into the water, setting the little vessel into motion. Gupta was dragged into the boat and behind a piece of armor plating.

Valdore looked on as the praetor, the criminal and T'Pol gathered around the wounded Gupta. Mortar fire subsided as the armored carriers backed away. Valdore holstered his gun. He spun around and saw Artrax standing before him. He realized that the newly appointed officer had witnessed his inaction.

"My weapon jammed," Valdore told Artrax.

"Of…of course my admiral," Artrax said at last. He reported that a third of the surviving centi had been killed in the evacuation. The city dwellers hadn't faired much better. U'Lamez and his comm unit had been cut to pieces by weapons' fire. Valdore told Artrax to organize the surviving soldiers and aide the civilians. He turned back to watch Gupta's life bleed out onto the filthy deck.

Had he become so entwined in intrigue that he had not seen the correct course of action? The praetor lived. Valdore had based his plans on a mindless dolt, not a cognizant praetor who, though old, was still strong. He looked down at his gun. Why had he not acted to defend the leader of the empire? He looked at the dying mystery of a human on the deck. What had moved this human when Valdore had stood rooted? Amidst the crowded throng protected by the ship's armor he stood alone in thought.

Earth Asteroid Outpost Four, Dec 2158

Commander Bill Walters followed behind Lieutenant Royce Hansen. Commander Sharon Patelli followed behind Walters. The trio bent over and proceeded along slowly. The cavern had a low ceiling. Walters could smell water ahead. He felt Patelli make a playful grab for his rear. She giggled.

"Everything okay back there?" Hansen asked.

Walters told him that everything was fine. He held out his hand torch added it to the light of Hansen's. Bill marveled when he considered that these chunks of rocks would be turned into bases. He understood that Admiral Forrest was in the final stages of planning a major attack. That was why the taskforces were out here.

"Are you looking forward to staying here?" Sharon asked Hansen. A light source was evident ahead of them. The rocky passageway got larger. Walters pulled himself up painfully.

"Cripes! Are you kidding?" Hansen answered as they stepped out into a larger chamber. A dark, still body of water lay before them. Walters shined his torch out over it. "We're going to build these things and then leave. I'm an outdoorsman myself. I can't imagine living in a rock like this for more than a year."

"Looks like a hundred meters to the other side," Patelli remarked.

"It's deceptive in the dark," Hansen answered. "When the day cycle rolls around you'd see. It is sixty meters to the other side. The environmental folks are going to put plants and grass here. It'll help the air cyclers and give the poor slobs stationed here something to do."

"You mean swimming?" he asked.

Hansen turned and grinned slyly at them. Walters wondered why the thirty-something Hansen didn't do something about the early run of gray that colored his thick mat of curly hair. The engineer replied that that was what he indeed meant.

"This is the compound's water supply and reactor coolant," Hansen explained. "It's nice and toasty and clean. It gets filtered before we drink it, so don't you two worry about peeing in the pool." He winked at them under the faux twilight of the environmental lamps.

"Thanks again for bringing out real steaks," Hansen said. He pulled out a metal thermos. "This is the local hooch. It ain't good and it ain't good for ya! The night crew will probably be showing up here in another three hours or so." He winked at them. "I'll leave you two be. 'Night," he said as he turned and departed.

"Amazing what a few frozen New York strips will get," Patelli remarked.

Privacy was at a premium and the couple knew that they dare not meet aboard any of their respective ships. A relationship made for high drama and the crews usually made it a point to hang around so that they could learn and then pass on tidbits. Walters wanted to be alone with Sharon; probably not for the reason that she assumed. The couple had ran into the amicable Hansen who was more than willing to facilitate them when he learned that the carriers had been stocked just weeks ago.

Bill turned to see the pale, naked form of Patelli. She was kicking off her panties and heading for the water's edge. He was about to say something, but decided it was best to go along with her. Walters looked around as if every crewman in the Star Fleet might be watching. He pulled off his jersey, boots and duty slacks. Bill discarded his undergarments and headed for the water.

"Hansen wasn't kidding!" Sharon exclaimed. She lunged forward and cut into the water, making a clean swath.

Walters followed with gusto. He ran headlong into the water and then dived when it was almost up to his thighs. He nearly breathed water in surprise when the warmth enveloped him. Bill swam beneath the surface while thinking that Hansen had not exaggerated one bit. He came up near Sharon. She was into the water up to her mouth.

"Hansen said about three meters deep," she remarked. She swam over to him. Sharon wrapped her arms and legs around him.

"You've been quiet since we got here Mister Walters," she remarked. "Cat got your tongue or maybe I should do that."

He started to sweat in the warm water. She kissed him passionately. His body responded when his mind did not want to. Bill wondered if the Vulcans would be more considerate of teaching their mental techniques to others. They swam and then waded toward the shore. Hansen's people had lined the shore with soft sand. The two were soon rolling around in the sand. Walters wished that it would be otherwise.

Sometime later they waded back out and cleaned the sand off of them. Bill watched Sharon's shapely body from the water as she got out and laid a towel out. He got out, dried off and then lay naked beside her. She handed him the thermos. He took a sip of something that he was sure that his father must have used to strip away old varnish. He handed it back. Patelli drank heartily.

"It's weird," she said quietly. "If there was no more star drive here we would be: out inside of an asteroid, light years from our home, laying here naked on a beach. It is like we are the only people around, just us." Patelli looked at him. "Am I being weird?"

The same feeling took hold of him. "Not really," he answered. "We just take this technology for granted. Without warp drive we would be tens of thousands of years from earth."

Sharon squeezed his hand. "From home," she added.

There it was. Walters gulped, thankful for the twilight. "Sharon, what do you plan on doing after the war?"

A long uncomfortable silence passed. That end seemed to be in sight at long last. These asteroids would be used for the final push until troops were landed on Romulus. How long the ground war would last he had no idea. He could not imagine that it would be long with the Birdies' space power stripped away. She felt her toes rub along his calf.

"I've heard that moon shuttle pilots make a lot," she answered. "Maybe I can find one and chase his screaming kids all day."

"You're up for captain," he retorted. "Are you going to give all of that up?"

"So are about a hundred other commanders Bill," Sharon answered. "I've seen the cosmos. There are a bunch of incredible things out here. And then too, there are Romulans and things that can kill in a thousand horrible ways. Christ, you still wake up screaming those Marines' names."

"Trauma is a part of life. There is trauma from the day that some doc slaps our bare asses."

"That is your Irish friend talking: O'Brien." Patelli's voice carried an uncharacteristically bitter tone. "Ask his wife how she feels being a navy widow. Oh hell, I know he is not dead but the regular SN cruise time was up to two years. Two years without a husband, maybe she puts a good face on it but no way I'd want that."

"I want to be an engineer," he said.

"Like your friend O'Brien?" she asked. "Bill, cash out your credits and go to college on earth. I'll teach or take a laboratory job and support you. You don't have to become some grizzled space engineer."

"I want to be out there!" He rolled away from her and sat up. "Look Sharon, all my life I've felt disconnected. I didn't belong in Kansas and I didn't really think I'd be a shuttle pilot. I just went with the flow until I joined the Marines. That is where I felt at home."

"Home is a wife and a family," Patelli answered hotly; "not some damned wardroom full of cigar smoking chiefs and officers talking about their victories in this war!" She sat up next to him. Her tunic was lying within arms' reach. She threw it loosely over her shoulders.

"This war is not over," she started in a softer tone of voice. Sharon reached out and caressed his shoulder. "Use the time to think about your future, not about being an engineer. Think about all of those middle aged retired navy men and women knocking around, who really don't fit in. Their fleet family is gone and they don't have anyone else. I really love you Bill. I was in your shoes once. I thought I'd be some gung-ho captain, but that wasn't me. Think about your future. I know you have differences with your father but look at what your mom and dad have together."

Voices echoed down the chamber from whence they had come. Walters guessed that they were not the only ones to use the swimming hole. Patelli stood up, dusted sand off her backside and started to throw her uniform on. Bill did likewise.

"Right now I'm not sure I'd be happy on earth," he told her. "It's not credits or fame it's a feeling of something bigger."

She was right. The war was still on. It would be over soon. Walters would have a struggle getting into the Star Fleet Academy. He would have to face a loss of rank and prestige. He didn't think that would bother him. Bill had always believed that he was just here to do a job. If the job called for him to be a commander then he would be a commander. But it was that job that held him enthralled. He couldn't imagine sitting around in some office on earth with twenty other engineers. She touched his face and leaned in to kiss him deeply.

"There are things bigger than space travel," Patelli told him. "You'll only have one of me in your lifetime!" She added this last with a grin on her lips. She slapped his stomach hard. "Don't think because you are going through this crisis that you can hop into bed with some fellow star explorer. Remember I'm Sicilian and I have connections." She touched him between his legs and squeezed. "This still has my name on it!"

"Yes Don Patelli!" he responded. He laughed but he felt empty inside.

Two more couples entered the chamber. It was obvious that they were here for play. They were engineering personnel from the outpost. There uniforms were adorned with the breast insignia of the engineering corp. They were smiling and laughing while Walters felt like there was a pall over him and Sharon.