Season 1 - Episode 8: The Needle's Camel
May 31, 2371 (2 Months, 16 Days in the Delta Quadrant)

At Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco, Admiral Owen Paris sighed as he eased back into his office chair, a hand coming up to rub at his eyes and forehead.

The last few months had not been easy. Starfleet Intelligence had been pushing reports to the Admiralty about what was happening in the Gamma Quadrant, more specifically the slowly escalating Cold War with the Dominion, and it hadn't been good news. After the Dominion had kidnapped and interrogated the crew of the Defiant, the consensus had been that the Gamma Quadrant polity was going to step up its aggressive research of the Alpha Quadrant powers.

This seemed especially likely after the reports of what the interrogation had been about filtered down. Testing what the likely results of various alliances or attacks could be had been unsettling, as it painted a picture towards what the Dominion might be planning, but not enough of one to stop them from doing it.

Following these events, however, the Dominion threat seemed to have receded. The Federation as a whole might not be giving too much consideration towards a Dominion invasion, but Starfleet and her neighboring militaries had felt it was only a matter of time. Admiral Paris and Leyton had been pushing through authorizations to heavily fortify Deep Space Nine, and just days ago a series of listening posts were established on the far side of the wormhole to provide advanced warning of a Dominion incursion. Or, at least, they were now that the issue of sending a signal through the wormhole had been dealt with.

With that situation having finally been handled, Admiral Nechayev was instructing the USS Maryland, Proxima and Sarajevo to do some exploration of the largely unknown region. Ostensibly this was for the sake of exploration and scientific discovery, but there was also the possibility of gathering intel from the other species native to the region. If the Dominion wanted to turn the powers here against each other, it was only smart to see if the same was possible on their end. It was the nature of all sapients to look for dangers and opportunities that were present in themselves, so it was, as the Vulcans would say, a logical deduction. Either way, hopefully more regular contact between the Dominion and the Federation would result in understanding and an easing of tension. And if it didn't, they'd have plans for that as well.

The Admiral's eyes drifted to the portrait on the edge of his desk, at the source of the rest of his tension. He eyed the picture of his son, Thomas, taken shortly after he had graduated from the Academy. Happier times.

Times before Thomas had been involved in the Caldik Prime incident and been kicked out of Starfleet. Before he had gone to join the Maquis in a misguided fools errand of heroics. Before Thomas had been sent to prison when he was caught. Before the Admiral had asked an up and coming Captain to put his son on her ship and give him the second chance he deserved. Before Voyager had gone missing and had been declared lost with all hands in the Badlands.

Owen squeezed his eyes tight, trying desperately to ignore the pain in his chest whenever he thought about how he had killed his only son…

The Admiral was pulled out of his thoughts by a chime at his door. He glanced up at the analog timepiece on his desk, annoyed at the late hour the family heirloom displayed, and called, "Come!"

He was hardly surprised to see Admirals Hastur, Mitsuya, and Rollman enter, although the fourth figure following them, in a robe with the hood drawn up, was a surprise.

Standing as they approached, Owen indicated the three chairs in front of his desk before walking to the side of the room and lifting a chair. He placed it alongside the others, waiting for Rollman to take it, before walking back around to his side of the desk. "Sorry about that," he began, "I was expected three guests this evening, not four."

Rollman waved it off, the younger woman smirking with amusement at the older man's chivalry. "Think nothing of it, Owen. Mr. R'Mor is my guest."

"R'Mor," Owen frowned at the name, trying to place it but the best he could do was, "Vulcan?"

Prompted, the man carefully lowered his hood revealing the expected ears but also the unexpected harsh, angular and strong looking face they were attached to, as well as the equally surprising cranial ridges. "Romulan, Admiral. But I will forgive the mistake. I know we and our cousins share some common names."

The Admiral blinked for a moment, but otherwise pressed on with little effort. At his age and position, there were very few real surprises left for him to react to and he wasn't going to waste one on seeing an old enemy sitting across from him. "Well, this is surprising. Welcome to Earth, R'Mor. I may be wrong, but this is the first time one of your people has stood on this world."

"Not in the last fifty years, that I'm aware of." The Romulan stated, his face as emotionless as his cousins.

Rollman nodded, starting, "As you know, the Romulan Empire is requesting access to Deep Space Nine so they may collect the data collected from there about the Dominion and the Gamma Quadrant. Mr. R'Mor was tasked with coming to Starfleet headquarters directly to gather our information - to ensure they had received everything."

Nodding along, Owen replied, "I expected that's what this meeting was about. I just wasn't aware of our unexpected but not unwelcome guest."

As he moved to set cups and pitchers of water out for his guests, Hastur made idle talk. His broad face set in a scowl, asking, "Has anyone paid any attention to the news lately?"

Mitsuya sniffed to herself, "I avoid the public stations when I can. All they want to discuss lately is the New Bajor tragedy."

Rollman spoke up, "I think that is what Mr. Hastur was referring to."

"War," the Admiral in question said, "that's what it means."

"No." Owen began as he sat down the refreshments, unwilling to hear. He did not want to think of a war. "Hastur, it isn't going to come to that. We've been close to war with many powers before, and in the end peace won out."

R'Mor smirked to himself as he listened, "Might I request some Mint Tea?"

Owen nodded at the request, and moved to the replicator as the other three Admirals discussed the event that had really set the current cold war into effect, none of it classified. While the Romulan was a guest, he likely was a member of their intelligence apparatus, and would be treated as such.

They discussed how, due to the location of wormhole, it was logical for the Bajorian people to be the first through it in the hopes of establishing a colony. He and many others in Starfleet had been hopeful for the colony, and wished the Bajorians all the luck. After spending so long under Cardassian occupation, their homeworld was in shambles and it only made sense for many people to choose moving to a plush, untouched world far away from the reminders of the horror they faced.

The people of DS9 had worked hard to get the colonies foundations set. Major Nerys and Dr. Bashir in particular had assisted in the construction of the colony's hospital, and it had boasted a rather impressive irrigation system for such a new settlement. Only a few months after its founding, the colony had a little over twenty thousand people living on it.

Then contact was lost. It was assumed that something had happened to the communication systems, because if something more serious had happened a subspace distress call would have been launched. So a regular maintenance ship was prepared by the Bajorian people, but cost and other factors delayed the vessel and no Federation assistance was asked for.

It wasn't until Commander Sisko, while on leave, was captured by the Jem'Hadar that the truth of what had happened to New Bajor had been learned. That the Dominion had wiped out the peaceful people, all the way down to the families and their children. None was spared. Following that, the destruction of the USS Odyssey and its crew of two thousand was just the humiliating cherry on top.

When Owen returned with the tea, R'Mor thanked him and took a careful sip. Taking a moment to savor the strange but interesting flavor, the Romulan added, "I find it interesting that you believe peace is an option."

The other Admirals cut their discussion off, listening in as Owen replied, "Peace is always an option. So long as both sides strive for it."

"And therein lies the problem." Taking another sip of the drink, R'Mor said, "You believe that the Dominion want peace. Not all galactic powers are like your Federation."

"The Alpha Quadrant has enjoyed many years of peace, you might recall." Owen refuted.

Nodding, the Romulan stated, "You earned your peace by fighting your enemies and defeating them. You defeated the Cardassians, Klingons, and, much to my peoples displeasure, the Empire. It is because of that fighting that we respected your strength enough to abide by your peace. The Dominion has far more in common with your enemies than yourselves, Admiral."

Rollman interjected, "They are your enemy as well, if I understand the situation."

R'Mor nodded, "Certainly. The Empire believes this region to have more than enough powerful states in it already. We don't need another trying to destabilize the careful balance that has risen. Especially one so lacking in discretion. Rest assured, that if it was us, you would've never known we eliminated your colony. This, however, does indeed seem to be the Dominion's doing, and why we wish to be involved. They represent a threat to our position."

"And the Empire's carefully laid plans," Mitsuya added with a straight face.

The Romulans only reply was to smile warmly at the Admiral and say, "I'm glad we understand each other."

"I hate to agree with our friend," Hastur started, "but what more evidence do ye need? The fact is, the Dominion wants war. New Bajor made that clear enough. And with the-"

"Stop, Hass," Rollman scold him. "If Jaresh comes out and announces we're at war, then we'll be at war. Until then, I've heard enough about Bajor and the Dominion, thank you."

Hastur sat back with a harrumph.

Owen opened his mouth to say something, but shut it again when Rollman raised a hand and said, "I know we came here to talk about just that, but I must admit to a small deception on my part. I asked for this meeting here with another subject in mind."

Her demeanor austere and impressive, it caused the others in the room to hold their tongue as she reached into a pocket and withdrew a small device. Setting it on the table, she pressed a button on top of the black box and stated, "This briefing is classified. There will be no recording devices."

"What is that?" Owen asked, finally finding his voice in the middle of all this sudden cloak and dagger and pointing at the device on his desk. He had assumed something would've happened, given that he had a Romulan visitor, but it was still more than a little sudden.

"It is a scrambler," Rollman stated. "While this is active the recording devices in this room will pick up nothing."

"We use devices much like that one," the Romulan added, before taking another sip of his tea. "Smaller, though."

Owen could admit that he had always liked Rollman. While young, she had proven herself time and again. She didn't require formalities to impress others, and allowed her stellar record to speak for itself. Above all else, however, he liked her because she kept things brief and to the point when the subject required it.

The fact that she had allowed the pleasantries to go on for as long as they had told the older man that he wasn't going to enjoy this meeting, as she only did so to humor him.

True to form, Rollman stated with deadly certainty, "I'll make this as simple as possible. Voyager and her crew are alive."

The collective gasp of surprise from Hastur and Mitsuya would have made Owen smile if he hadn't been so taken aback himself. Alive? Voyager? Tom? Could he dare to hope?

"For full details," the admiral continued, "I'm turning this briefing over to Mr. R'Mor."

Reaching into his robes, the Romulan began, "My full name is Telek R'Mor. I am the Deputy Director for the Romulan Astrophysical Academy."

As surprises go, Owen decided that was a whopper. The Astrophysical Academy was the Romulans highest ranked institution of academic and scholarly pursuits within the Empire. It served as the state's primary research arm as well as a development facility for training future generations of scientists. Most other academic institutions in the Empire were a part of the vast network the Academy supported and coordinated with; everything from genetics and medicine to geology and weapons. What they weren't, however, were diplomats or spies.

Starfleet knew barely more than that about the Academy. They knew the facility itself was a heavily fortified space station in orbit around Romulus, but only individuals that possessed the highest clearance were allowed to visit or work there due to the vast amount of classified materials contained within. Most of the actual education was done on various satellite campus and laboratories on the planet itself. Only the darkest, deepest, most secure of topics were researched at the Academy itself.

Due to the nature of their work, the Academy was also known to work closely with the military. The Academicians where constantly developing, examining and even testing means and methods to maintain as well as expand the Empire's military capabilities, and through that the Empire itself.

"To begin with, I must provide some...context," The Romulan began. "Around, let's call it Stardate 28920, I began a three-year mission conducting research aboard the science vessel Talvath. This was a great honor, and I worked diligently."

He took another sip of his tea, and went on, "Around Stardate 30319, while traversing Sector 1385, I detected signals coming from a small probe of unknown origin. I followed the signal back to what you in the Federation would call a 'mirco-wormhole,' and a microprobe lodged in its eddy."

"The probe was advanced, and had a Federation signature, so of course I extracted it for further study," the Romulan stated calmly, as if such a thing could not be argued to be against their treaties.

Owen leaned back in his chair, listening intently, while Mitsuya narrowed her eyes. "That Sector is on the far side of Romulan space. Twenty years ago, we would never have been out that far. Hell, even today we wouldn't be out there."

R'Mor nodded, "Which is what makes it an excellent place to conduct research."

Hastur asked, "What does this probe have to do with Voyager?"

"We made repeated scans of the probe, it was very advanced," R'Mor continued, as if he had never stopped in his recounting, "but soon I received a vocal transmission from the other side of the wormhole, using the probe as a relay. The person on the other side identified themselves as the Federation starship Voyager."

Looking up sharply, Owen snapped, "What foolishness is this? A twenty year old message in a bottle, in reverse? The idea of the Intrepid-Class wasn't even a gleam in the designers eye at that time. Hell, I don't think the designers had even finished their Academy classes at that point."

Rollman looked at him, almost seeming annoyed, "Just hear him out, Admiral."

"I don't blame you for your incredulity." R'Mor calmly stated placidly. "I hardly believed it myself. A Federation ship in the Delta Quadrant, impossible." He waved his hand, dismissing the thought. "I was so unconvinced of that truth, I insisted that they must be Starfleet spies on a covert surveillance mission and terminated communications."

Mitsuya leaned in, "You must not have continued to believe so."

"No." The Romulan leaned back in his chair, looking party both smug and proud of himself. "I analyzed the hailing frequency for several hours, and was able to confirm that it had in fact originated in the Delta Quadrant. After that, I made the decision to re-establish contact with Voyager. I was still skeptical about the ship being a Starfleet vessel, and if so it made more sense to me that it was actually a spy vessel with some kind of very advanced warp technology, but I eventually came around to believing the truth they shared with me."

"I believe it was, when Janeway asked if I would be willing to deliver personal messages from her crew back to the Federation, that I decided this was all real and not an elaborate test." R'Mor smiled to himself.

Admiral Owen leaned onto his desk, and extended a shaky hand to a glass of water. As the cool liquid went down his throat, he rasped, "So my son...Voyager, was sent into the past? Where is she now?"

Checking the time on the wall, R'Mor remarked, "Right about now, Voyager is stumbling across that micro-wormhole I mentioned."

Seeing that he needed to explain that, the Romulan pressed on without waiting for another response, "Once visual contact was established with Voyager, I was unable to immediately recognize the configuration of the Intrepid-Class vessel. This… surprised me at the time, given my people's familiarities with all of your ship designs. I had also spoken with the Senate with respect to sending Voyager's messages on. They had promised to take the matter under advisement, after I had stressed to them that the wormhole was only a day or two away from total collapse."

He spread his arms slightly, "The crew should be commended for their daring. Further analysis of the signals we were using found that it was possible to match the phase amplitude of the data transmission to their transporter frequency. This startled me, and I remember noting that our operatives in Intelligence must not have been doing their jobs, as such an ability to do so would be an incredible breakthrough in subspace field mechanics. I will admit, just knowing it was possible likely pushed my own research in that direction for many years. Thank you for that."

"But I digress," The Romulan commented with the slightest of sly smiles before he took another sip of his tea and sat back. "With the possibility of transporting now open, I offered to have myself transported to Voyager and back again. This was partly for security concerns, I couldn't very well welcome Starfleet officers onto my ship after all, but also to test the process and see if what I was told was true. If successful, I would arrange for a troop transport to join us and carry everyone home."

Owen watched as the man frowned, sadness clear on his face. "It was only after the transport to Voyager that we realized there was a temporal displacement in the wormhole. Twenty years. After further discussions, including the consideration of having the crew beam over anyway - after all a wait of twenty years to get home was better than a wait of nearly a century - Captain Janeway made the decision to stay in their own time and continue their journey. We all agreed against warning Starfleet of Voyager's ill-fated mission due to temporal implications, but I did agree that on this day I would take the Voyager's messages to Starfleet."

At that moment, Admiral Rollman reached into her jacket and pulled out a data chip. She laid it on the desk and slid it over to Owen, smiling as she did so, "From Tom," was all she said.

He carefully picked up the chip, holding it in his hands for who knows how long. This was a message from his son. His son who was alive. Lost but alive and working on finding a way home!

Unbidden tears of happiness and relief slid out of the corner of his eye, the relief of knowing he hadn't killed his only son lifting all the fears and regrets from his chest and shoulders like a purging shower.

Hastur asked, "So you've been sitting on this secret since our ship vanished? Why not tell us the day it happened, or any time prior to now?"

R'Mor shrugged a little, unconcerned. "Because today was the day we had agreed to."

"What did the Senate say about all this?" Mitsuya asked, obviously curious, as well as worried. "I know you couldn't have sat on this information for two decades without telling them."

"You are correct," the Romulan answered simply. "My superiors know all about the messages, as well as their contents, and have known for a very long time. They gave me leave to come here and deliver them after all."

Hastur hummed in thought, "That might explain why Starfleet Intelligence saw an uptick in interest about the Intrepid-Class after it was commissioned. Nothing, malicious, but normally you Romulans are much more suspect about your information gathering."

R'Mor nodded. "I don't know anything about that personally, but I was instructed that if that subject was to be risen, to tell you 'we were simply curious.'"

Mitsuya started, "At the time of your contact with Voyager, the Federation wouldn't have had contact with the Romulans for nearly four decades-"

"Forty-one years, to be exact." R'Mor stated.

"-thank you," she accepted the correction graciously, "So I can understand why your government might have had some reluctance to grant Voyager's request. But it casts an interesting new light on the events of 41986."

"Ah," the Romulan smiled wide, "the Neutral Zone encounter with the Enterprise. Yes, there was much… debate, about whether we should open communication with the Federation once more. We had, after all, been fine on our own for many years. However the destruction of our outpost, at the time by unknown persons but now known to be the Borg, rather forced our hand. There wasn't very much information in the personnel letters for my government to build a timeline out of, so we proceeded ahead as if we had never heard of Voyager.

"Meanwhile?" Mitsuya pressed.

Raising an eyebrow at the Admiral, R'Mor answered, "Meanwhile my section of the Astrophysical Academy went over the letters and logs from that ship extensively. Captain Janeway was… wise enough to not leave us with any examples of technology, the data was transmitted to my ships and the microprobe was crushed when the wormhole collapsed, but the scans had been very… enlightening."

Owen smiled at the Romulan, clutching the chip in his hand like it was lifeline and he was at sea, and said, "I don't care. Just, just thank you for bringing me word of my son. I'm sure the rest of the families will be equally glad to know their loved ones are alive."

Rollman frowned, "It wasn't all good news, Admiral. Voyager didn't arrive on the other side of the galaxy on their own power, they were swept. And they lost almost thirty people when it happened."

He felt his eyes widen in shock, "How bad was it?" He knew Thomas was alive, or else he wouldn't have sent the message he held, but if the ship was too badly damaged, they might not make it home.

With a sigh of anxiousness and more tension in her shoulders than Owen hadn't noticed before, Rollman rattled off, "Commander Cavit, Lieutenant Stadi, the Chief Engineer, the Transporter Chief, the entire medical staff, and more. The ship they had been sent to find, Val Jean, arrived before them but was in similar bad shape. The two crews merged after the Maquis ship was destroyed, leaving the criminals in charge of their own jail."

Mitsuya eyed the woman, "I think this is the definition of extraneous circumstances. Some measure of practicality is acceptable."

"True," Rollman accepted, though it was obvious she didn't agree. "Anway, I'll have a complete report ready for you by the morning. Mr. R'Mor was kind enough to also provide the ships logs. They have had an interesting few months so far."

Admiral Rollman and the Romulan stood, with smaller woman pressing the top of the device and slipping the box back into her uniform. "Thank you Admirals, but my guest here is needed to provide a complete debrief. I just felt it would be best if the Admirals in charge of the investigation were the first to hear the news."

Owen snapped to his feet, reaching out a hand and clasping it with the other two. "Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me."

R'Mor smirked to himself, but said, "I have a wife and child of my own. I know what it is like to be away from them, to wonder how they are and if they need you. I think I can imagine how you might feel. While I believe your ideals of peace foolish, Admiral, know that we have far more in common than those enemies at your gate."

==/\==

After spending most of the evening consulting with a handful of other people in Starfleet, R'Mor found himself being escorted to his private rooms.

'Well,' he humorous reflected, 'suite is a more apt description.'

Because of the close proximity to Starfleet headquarters and need for security surrounding a Romulan diplomatic envoy, the Humans had set him up for the duration of his stay in the nearby Second Transamerica Pyramid. He found the building to be interesting, almost Romulan in its design, doubly so since it was actually a recreation. The original building had apparently been demolished a century prior, the age of the building combined with the materials of the era it had first been built in meant it had become one of the most structurally unsound towers in the city. Designers had went to work redesigning and rebuilding the tower shortly before the first demolition charge had been set, and five years after that construction of the replacement tower had begun.

It looked much like the original, he was told, but looking at the photographs proved that a lie. The new tower was fourteen meters taller, for example, and had been constructed from the same materials that Starfleet used on their starships to give it a blue-white exterior. The top seventy meters of the building was home to a beautiful observation spire restaurant that R'Mor was looking forward to sampling later. At the base of the building, occupying the surrounding plaza as well as the first twenty meters of the buildings height, is a private park for the towers inhabitants and surrounding residents to enjoy. The original trees from the first tower still proudly stood, and featured a pond.

R'Mor was curious about the pair of bronze statues, two quadruped animals near the water, but he supposed it didn't matter.

The room they had set aside for him was at the top of the floor, just prior to the spire, and filled with such luxury that R'Mor felt like he was the Praetor ruling over his own private world. Indoor fountains that could glow in any color, fireplaces, large musical instruments, marble baths, a private patio facing the Bay, fitness rooms, steam showers, and a wet bar were just the beginnings of the wealth on display. A personal skycar allowed for private disembarkment off the patio, if one was inclined, that was piloted by a personal driver provided with the room. There was even a butler on call to cater to the occupants every need.

Space was maximized, but it never felt cramped. The entire floor was set aside so the occupant could have access to multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, separate living and dining areas, all while enjoying lavish furnishings and stunning views.

It was the most beautiful jail cell he'd ever had the pleasure to reside in.

Turning to his companion, R'Mor commented, "I wasn't aware humanity took such pride in its comfort. It almost makes me wonder if our two species might have more in common than we care to admit."

Admiral Rollman had been his guide so far on this trip, and he wasn't expecting that to change. That was fine with him. The young woman took to her duties with the seriousness and drive he would expect of any of his own people. Currently she was sitting on one of the opulent couches, reading some kind of report on a padd as they waited for the rest of their party to arrive and not giving the decor around her a second glance.

Having been addressed however, she raised her head and looked at him to reply, "Everyone is entitled to their own tastes. Normally this floor is reserved for visiting dignitaries, so it is rather more opulent than what the average person would prefer."

"I'm sure that is to encourage your guests to stay inside." He offered, smirking to himself at the idea of people being so enraptured with the things around them that they would voluntarily imprison themselves.

Rollman just nodded, looking back at her padd while replying, "You would be surprised at how well it works. Normally the two security officers at the elevators never even see the occupant."

Offering an appreciative nod, the Romulan didn't comment on the hidden, second pair of Security he'd detected and instead strolled over to the bar and perused the selection. Amused, he plucked a familiar looking bottle with an equally familiar liquid inside from the shelf. Holding it up, he said, "I thought Romulan Ale was illegal?"

Without looking up the Admiral calmly stated, "It is. But somehow people keep finding ways to get access to it. It wouldn't be such a big deal if people would just replicate the liquor, but they insist on getting the 'real thing.'"

"Why is it illegal?" He asked, honestly curious. "I've always known that it was, but not why. Even if trade between our people is limited, I can't think of a reason why our beverages would be illegal."

Continuing her work, the woman answered, "Mostly because, unless you are Romulan or Vulcan, the substance has serious hallucinogenic effects. There are things you can add to the drink to soften the impact, but frankly that would ruin the whole point of drinking it."

"So you penalize people who seek to enjoy themselves?" R'Mor asked with mock incredulity.

"Hardly," Rollman waved it away. "It was made illegal, but that was just a pretense so cargo ships could be searched. Easier to get permission to search incoming freighters from other powers on the excuse of looking for ale, which is easy to come by and nearly everyone outside Federation space has access to, then illegal weapons or sophant smuggling. No person in the Federation has ever been charged for having or consuming ale."

Finding her blunt honesty cloaking deceit refreshing, reminding him somewhat of home, he took a glass of ale and sat down on the very comfortable couch across from the woman. Continuing their game, he commented, "Last month, when I was given permission for the goodwill journey, at the behest of the Senate and… other parties, I was asked to open a dialogue with President Jaresh-Inyo before I return. They are proposing to commence negotiations."

"Negotiations for what?" the Admiral asked, not looking up, nor indicating her interest, though he knew it was firmly fixed upon him.

R'Mor glanced to his left, looking deeply in thought. He'd dealt with captains before, some simplistically self-righteous, some surprisingly sly, and some just boringly blunt. If he'd known the Federation Admiralty was this delightfully duplicitous, he would've asked to come sooner. "The easing of relations between the Federation and the Empire, as well as possible mutual trade and research. An end to the many years of unremitting hostility the Empire feels it can no longer afford in light of recent events."

"The Dominion has your people spooked that badly?" Rollman asked, setting down her padd for the first time and leaning back to look at her charge.

The Romulan nodded, "Not as much as they have done to you, Admiral. However, in light of the recent attacks in the Gamma Quadrant, and the destruction of New Bajor, it seems wise. All attempts on the Federation's behalf to establish a mutual dialogue with the Dominion and their Founders have failed. They have not been the only ones to do so. Indications are that they are unwilling to make any agreement, which is… unfortunate."

As the Human took this information in, R'Mor continued, "The Empire is more interested in securing this region of space against the Dominion threat, than maintaining a war fleet along the Neutral Zone. If nothing else, the savings in defense expenditures alone would leave our economy free to grapple with urgent social issues."

Rollman leaned in, "Are you talking about mothballing your Fleet?"

R'Mor raised an eyebrow at the woman, amused at even the thought of doing so. "I'm talking about a retasking of existing forces, rather than building an entirely new theoretical fleet for a war that might not come. Come now, I thought you were listening in that meeting. We respect your strength, not your delusions of peace for the sake of itself. We've observed the Federation long enough now to decide that, if nothing else, you are not aggressive enough to launch an unprovoked war upon us. The same can not be said of them."

That they might build that second fleet with the economic boom created anyway was so obvious his grandchildren would understand it.

Leaning back, the Admiral hummed in thought while R'Mor sipped from his glass. He had been flabbergasted when he was given this instruction. To offer the Federation a safe haven along the Romulan border was suicide! But her suggestion was just preposterous. If we dismantled the Fleet, we'd be defenseless before a species with a foothold along our territory. However, as he gave it more thought, he could see the wisdom in this pretending to follow such an action.

The Federation wouldn't launch a war on the Empire without a lot of forewarning, and the fleet watching the Klingons would be unaffected by this. The starbases along the Neutral Zone would remain, listening posts would do their duty, but the fleet positions could be adjusted to take a more aggressive stance towards the wormhole and the Dominion. A united Alpha and Beta Quadrant were more important at the moment than posturing.

And if, once the dust settled, it left his people in a position to dictate terms? A united Alpha and Beta Quadrants would be more important than Federation posturing.

As he thought, R'Mor glanced over at the Admiral. The woman's expression was impassive, but she was staring at him with an intensity that could have melted deuterium. Ah, if only she were Romulan, he'd introduce her to one of his sons.

Rollman finally said, "Starfleet is under civilian control. This decision is a political one, not one that the Admirals can make. On the other hand, I'm sure we can put pressure on them to take the offer seriously and promptly."

Having sipped from his glass, R'Mor offered a content sigh before stating, "I would expect nothing less. After all, does the Senate not control the Romulan government? It's so good to hear that we have that in common as well. Your response was all that was expected. And with that, my message from the Senate has been delivered."

The two didn't say much after that. Admiral Rollman continued to stare off at nothing, obviously thinking very hard, and left her padd at her side, no longer pretending to read it. R'Mor enjoyed his drink and soaked in the silence, while making plans to visit the patio for some night air.

A high pitched tone from the elevator brought the two individuals out of their thoughts. R'Mor looked up at the newcomers, smiling softy at their professional attire. The two, a male and a female of a descent the Romulan best placed as part of the western lower continent, wore similar enough dress; the male in a charcoal gray jacket and pants over his slim frame, a teal undershirt rising with the neck up to hug his throat the only sign of color, while the female was wearing a V-neck long-sleeve black suit. Their skin was tanned dark, similar to his own in fact, and if they had the ears and cranial ridges they could have blended well into the Empire's military.

Rollman stood to greet them, calling them by name, "Director Garret Foxwell, Madam Laux, welcome." She waved a hand in his direction, adding, "I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Telek R'Mor of the Romulan Astrophysical Academy."

Standing, the Romulan greeted a nod, "Welcome."

The man and woman walked up to them, smiling warmly, as the younger male stuck out a hand to clasp his own. "Call me Garret. Director of Federation Agricultural Studies. Mrs. Laux is my assistant."

R'Mor peered at the two of them, glanced at the Admiral next to him, and smiled, understanding the situation completely. "Yes, I have heard a great many things of the...Agricultural Studies. Is it true that there are thirty-one separate departments? Your people must be very busy."

"We get around," Garret replied easily. "There's as many plants to study as there are stars in the sky, after all. But you shouldn't always believe what you hear. Rumors can be misleading."

"As I know all too well," the taller man answered. "I was, of course, briefed about a great many of the Federation's departments and agencies, yours included. They wanted me to make sure I knew who I was speaking to, and how important it was."

"Surprised they didn't just come themselves." Laux commented, no pretense of humor or happiness displayed at all.

"Even in my position, we are all expendable for the good of the Empire." he stated easily, knowing it was true and fully supportive of what that sentiment meant. It was also the least he could do in repayment for seeing the birth of his grandchild. "Shall we sit?"

They moved back to the couches, Rollman and R'Mor retaking their previous seats while Garret sat next to the Admiral and Laux placed herself next to the Romulan. As they sat back and relaxed, he looked around at the three humans he was alone with, equally surprised and pleased to see the bulge of weapons inside jackets. From the way she held herself, coiled to strike, R'Mor got the impression that the mysterious Laux might be the most dangerous person in the room even if you took into account Romulan speed and strength.

"Now," Garret began, smiling easily at everyone, "what is it that Agricultural Studies can do for you?"

Laux tensed slightly as R'Mor reached into his robe, but he ignored it as he withdrew another data chip much like the one that had been handed over to Admiral Paris earlier today. As he held it up, and then out for the other man to take, he explained, "I'm sure that news of the fate of Voyager has already reached the ears of your department. I was asked by two members of that crew to deliver these… letters and well wishes… to yourself."

"Two?" Garret started, confused. "I thought we only had one representative on that ship?"

Rollman looked over at him, clarifying, "Shepard was a passenger at the time the vessel vanished. Luke was already stationed to the ship to gather intel on the Maquis."

"Ah," Garret nodded, eyes narrowing at the chip in his hands. "I suppose there was a letter for their parents in there as well?"

R'Mor nodded. "Yes. Those have already been delivered." He hesitated for a moment, before pressing on, "Receiving those was, curious. But as a… repayment for a debt I owed, I agreed to deliver Shepard's letter to you. Luke's came later. I do not believe either knows about the other."

Garret looked at Rollman, who offered a shrug. "It is likely. Luke had orders to maintain cover, Shepard just happened to be aboard and neither has ever worked with the other before."

The man slowly shook his head. "Well, that is great. This could end up being a problem for one or both of them." He looked at the Romulan and added, "I imagine that your people have already looked at these and made copies?"

R'Mor slowly nodded. "We have copies, and our people have been over the letters many times. The subject of Shepard comes up often in several Chief Officer logs, with various reactions associated with him."

Rollman smirked, "That sounds like him."

Pressing on, the Romulan continued, "I can tell you that at least three people on that ship know who he works for.. .your department. Apparently he was forced to explain himself. But no mention of Luke has been made outside of the Chief Engineer praising her work."

"I can also tell you," he continued, "that my superiors are greatly displeased that we have had these two reports in our hands for so long and have not yet been able to break the encryptions, whatever they may be. They ask that you remember our aid in passing these along, and that it would be wise to turn over their contents sooner rather than later as we will continue to work on unlocking them. If we had the content, we would have no more pressing need to continue to crack your cyphers"

Garret didn't say anything, instead reaching over for Rollman's padd and sliding the data chip inside. He typed a few commands into it, and after a minute R'Mor watched the man's eyes widen in shock. "Why would his report be so much larger than hers?"

Leaning over, Rollman's expression matched the man's as she muttered, "Where did they pick up that kind of energy research? And what the hell is an omni-tool?" Glancing over at the Romulan, she said no more.

Quickly turning the padd off and retrieving the chip, Garret stood and extended a hand to R'Mor. "I thank you for passing along the information our people handed over, but I can't tell you what is inside at this moment. There is a great deal to shift through, but I'll give the idea of sharing what we received with the Empire all due consideration."

"On behalf of the Department of Agricultural Studies, I thank you." The man finished, before he and his companion made their exits.

While R'Mor watched, both a little shocked at how quickly they had left, and whether they had truly muttered classified intel or were just throwing him off their trail. Rollman picked up her padd and idly commented, "The next few months should be exciting."

R'Mor said nothing, taking another sip. Delightfully devious indeed.