In the Line of Duty
Chapter 3

Continued from Chapter 2:

As Picard entered his quarters that evening he noticed . . . perfection. The table was set for dinner. The rest of the room was immaculate, every single one of the many archaeological artifacts had been dusted and polished. Looking closer, he realized Vash had alphabetized their entire book collection. A very unhappy, but immaculately groomed cat dashed out of the bedroom and under the couch. Picard silently wished he could join the cat. Vash knew. He didn't know how, but she knew. Swallowing hard, he straightened his uniform and hesitantly called out, "Vash?"

"Oh, you're home," Vash responded, in an overly perky tone, as she appeared in the doorway of their bedroom. She looked as immaculate as the rest of the room. She was dressed in a tailored, black crepe jumpsuit with long, sheer sleeves that ended in delicate ruffles at her wrists. As she walked into the room, he noticed she was holding the cat's grooming brush. She looked around and, gesturing with the brush, she asked, "Did you happen to see where Charcoal went?"

"She ran under the couch. I think that is her way of telling you the styling session is over," he replied, as he gently removed the brush from her hand and laid it down on a nearby table. If he played this right, he might be able to diffuse her. Then later they could discuss the situation, calmly.

"Ma chere," he whispered, as he pulled her into his arms so his lips could capture hers in a tender kiss.

As she felt Jean-Luc's arms around her and his lips on hers, Vash knew she was right. Her premonition about the source of Riker's mood after her encounter with him this afternoon had been right on target. Jean-Luc was somehow going to try to evade the Romulans and go to Qo'nos without the Enterprise. The damn fool was probably going to get himself killed in the process. She knew he had to go and that he really had no choice. That didn't change the anxiety and fear that were threatening to overwhelm her. She didn't want him to go. She slid her arms over his shoulders and around his neck, pressing herself tightly against him. She not only returned his kiss, but deepened it fervently. Finally, Jean-Luc broke the kiss, leaving them both slightly breathless. It was only then that Vash realized how tightly she was clutching him.

"I guess we should think about having dinner." Vash tried to smile as she forced herself to loosen her hold on him. She wondered when he was planning to tell her that he was leaving. That was assuming, of course, he was going to tell her.

"Now that you mention it, I am kind of hungry," Picard admitted. Letting go of her, he stepped back and rubbed his neck. "It was a long day and I didn't have much of a lunch."

"Just give me five minutes to wash up and get dinner on the table." Vash reached up with one hand and ran her fingers through the grey hair at his temple, then turned to walk back into the bedroom. She called back to him, "I hope you're hungry for chicken cordon bleu, because that's what we're having."

"That sounds fine," he remarked. With what he had to tell her, she could have said they were having cat food and he wouldn't have said a word.

They sat through most of dinner talking about absolutely nothing of importance. Vash finished her last bite of chicken. She leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and stared at her husband. He'd been home for over an hour now and he hadn't said a word about his leaving. She was tired of waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. "So, when are you leaving?"

"I, uh," Picard fidgeted in his chair and adjusted his uniform jacket. Her clipped tone and the way her eyes seemed to bore through him was disconcerting, to say the least. His mother was the only other woman that had ever been able to unnerve him that way. He took a deep breath and said simply, "Tomorrow morning."

"I see." Vash stood and paced over to the nearest window and stared out at the stars. "And just when were you going to tell me, Jean-Luc? Tonight? Tomorrow just before you left? Or were you going to have poor Will do it?"

"Of course I intended to tell you. I just didn't know how," he replied gently "Are you all right?"

"Peachy damn keen," she huffed, sarcastically. She let her head fall forward to press against the window. "Oh, Jean-Luc, what do you want me to say? That I don't want you to go? I accept the fact that certain risks are a part of your chosen career and life aboard a starship. For God's sake, at the moment we're surrounded by ten enemy warships, which is not exactly a secure position. But this mission is suicide."

"We're not surrounded by enemy ships, they're all in front of us," Picard corrected her. "And there have been other dangerous missions since we've been married. In fact there have been a number of them," he asserted as he stood up from the table. "But, you're not alone. Will was also strongly opposed to this mission."

Vash ignored his comment about the relative position of the other ships. "In those other missions, you had a seasoned crew and the Federation flagship at your disposal." Vash turned to face him. Her voice louder and her tone firm, "This is different. If something goes wrong, if the vote goes the wrong way, Gowron could lose power and you would be trapped behind enemy lines with no reinforcements and no ship. I know enough about your past exploits to know that if that happens, and the Klingons don't kill you, the Romulans certainly will."

"I have to go." He kept his tone gentle. She was upset, and she had every right to be. "This is the difficult part of being married to a Starfleet officer. I know you're strong enough to handle it. You've handled it on many occasions in the past."

"Being married to a Starfleet officer is one thing," Vash retorted. "But how does one handle being married to a Starfleet legend? That is what we're really talking about here, isn't it? Once again the Federation faces the danger of intergalactic war and only the legendary Captain Jean-Luc Picard can stop it."

"That's only because the legendary Captain James T. Kirk isn't available." He reached up and rubbed his chin. "I think the term legend sounds somewhat pretentious."

"Damn it, Jean-Luc, you're not listening to me," Vash swore, exasperated. She took a deep breath and continued melodramatically, "my darling Jean-Luc, you are a living legend. This ship is a legend and our whole lives are pretentious: the military maneuver named after you, the archaeology wing at the Daystrom Institute named after me, our marriage."

"Your point?" he asked as he walked over to her.

"Maybe, just maybe, I don't want share you with the galaxy this time," Vash shouted, as tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't hold it in anymore. "Maybe I just want to be a selfish bitch, keeping you safe and all to myself. Just tell the whole galaxy to go to hell."

Picard took her gently in his arms and held her as she started to cry. After a few minutes, she started to calm down, her tears subsiding. He kissed the top of her head and quietly asked, "All better?"

Vash gave him a tremulous smile, her tone taking on its usual impish character. "Yeah, I'm good now."

Picard wiped the tears from her cheek, "why don't you go change into something more comfortable while I clear the table. Then I'll come in and do something legendary that will keep you warm until I come back from Qo'nos."

"Well, at least you don't need your ship for this Picard Maneuver," Vash taunted seductively as she headed for the bedroom.

Smiling, Picard started to clear the dinner table. Halfway through, he looked up to see a Romulan warbird outside the window. His smile slowly faded. His thoughts darkened, 'Vash and Will are both right. I'll be lucky to even make it to Qo'nos. Even assuming I make it to Qo'nos, if the vote goes the wrong way the Romulans will kill me. In fact, they'll probably make it a public execution.'

He shook off those depressing thoughts and finished clearing the last of the dinner dishes. He thought of Vash and how she continually amazed him. He knew it took a certain kind of inner strength to watch and wait as a loved one faced danger A strength that he, her so-called legend, didn't have. If somehow their roles were reversed, he'd never be able to stand by and let her undertake this type of perilous mission. He couldn't even bring himself to let her leave the ship without half a dozen security precautions, including an armed guard. He felt fortunate that, as a ship's captain, not to mention a husband, it was his prerogative to insist on such measures. The table now cleared, he turned and made his way into their bedroom.

...............................................

"Jean-Luc, do you have everything you need?" Vash called back to Picard in the bedroom as she finished clearing the last of the breakfast dishes from the table. "Will should be here soon."

"Yes, dear," Picard answered as he walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. He laid his small overnight bag on the couch. He looked at her and smiled. Even dressed in a khaki work shirt and pants, she managed to look feminine. Last night, over dinner, she told him she was taking a group of ensigns on a tour of a holodeck simulation of King Tutankhamen's tomb in the Valley of the Kings to teach basic excavation techniques. "My, don't you look archaeological."

"Well," Vash explained as she turned and walked to him. "I like to look the part. It's not as attractive as a skirt and pumps, but it's much easier to crawl around in a cave when you're not dressed like a girl."

"Mrs. Picard, with a figure like this," Picard chuckled, using his hands to span the graceful sloping line from her small waist to her hips. "You always look like a girl. A very pretty one at that."

"Flatterer," Vash cooed as she let her hands rest on the masculine slope of his shoulders. Raising her eyes to meet his, her voice turned tender. "I guess we should say our good-byes now, before Will gets here."

"Going to the transporter room is completely your decision," Picard told her softly. "You don't have to go."

"Yes, I do and I want to go," she said, her voice quiet, but adamant.

"All right," he nodded. His hands tightened around her waist, he lowered his face to hers and whispered, "Always remember, I love you."

"I love you," she whispered back just before his lips captured hers in a lingering kiss of passion. She slipped her arms around his neck pulling him as close as she could. While returning his ardent kiss, she held onto him as if she would never let go. When the kiss ended, Vash laid her head against his chest. Picard wrapped his arms around her tightly. She sighed into his chest, "I'm going to miss you.

"I'm going to miss you too," he said softly into her hair. The door chime sounded. He let go of her and stepped back. "I'll be back before you know it," he promised, then leaning down he gave her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. Straightening up he called, "Come."

Will Riker walked in. "Good morning, Vash, good morning sir, sir."

"Hi, Will," Vash smiled. Charcoal came padding out of the bedroom. The cat pointedly walked past the Enterprise's captain to rub up against the first officer's boot.

"Sir?" Reaching down to scratch the cat's head, Riker asked, amused.

"Ever since she saw me packing, she hasn't been speaking to me. She's been in a snit all morning," Picard explained, looking down at the small cat with mock insult. He looked at Riker and gave a small smile, "It seems the two of you have something in common, Number One."

"Me?" Riker gasped, it was now his turn to feign injury. "A snit, never." He strongly disagreed with Picard going and had told him so. However, the captain's mind was made up and his decision was final. Riker was not one to hold a grudge. He returned the captain's smile, "In your own words, everything is ship shape and Bristol fashion."

"Understood, Number One," Picard replied. Then getting down to business he asked, "Has the Klingon ship arrived?"

"Yes, sir," the first officer reported. "Commander Bak'Rul of the Ikarsha sends his regards to the Arbiter of Succession. They have transmitted transporter coordinates and are ready to receive you at your convenience. Counselor Troi and Ambassador Fontaine will meet us in transporter room two."

"Very good." Picard picked up his overnight bag, put it over his shoulder and then offered Vash his arm. "Let's not keep everybody waiting."

..............................................

In transporter room two, Worf glared at his wife and growled low in his throat. He hated the idea of the captain going on this mission and he liked the idea of Deanna going even less.

"Worf, stop that," Deanna hissed. Damn, she really didn't want to argue about this, again. She took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice, "Please, we discussed all this last night. As a Starfleet officer and ship's counselor it is my duty to help the Captain with diplomatic functions. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself while performing my duties. Would you deny your mate the honor of carrying out her duty?"

"That's not fair. You know Klingon tradition wouldn't allow . . ." Worf started.

"Good," Deanna cut him off. Laying her hands on his broad chest, she gazed up at him invitingly and cooed, "So how about a good-bye kiss while we're still alone."

"Deanna, please be careful," he said simply. Then Worf's large muscular arms crushed Deanna to him and his mouth devoured hers in a fiercely possessive kiss.

"I promise," Deanna managed to gasp as she finally pulled away from her husband and smoothed out her uniform. They heard the door open and turned to see the Ambassador enter, followed by Picard, Vash, and Riker. Picard walked over to them.

"Counselor, I would like to remind you again that due to the possible danger involved, this mission is strictly on a volunteer basis," Picard stressed to her. Then gently he asked, "Deanna, are you sure about this?"

"Yes, sir." Deanna squared her shoulders and looked pointedly from her husband to her commanding officer. "And frankly, sir, you need me. Considering the volatile atmosphere on Qo'nos, my empathic abilities could prove to be crucial to the success of the mission."

"I'm forced to agree with you," Picard told her. He glanced up at his security officer apologetically. "I'll take care of her, Mr. Worf."

While Picard was talking to Troi, Fontaine made her way over to Riker. The simple, black jumpsuit she wore served to accent her green eyes and her feminine curves. She gave the handsome first officer her most devastating smile. "No hard feelings, Commander?"

"No hard feelings, Ambassador." With a familiar glint in his blue eyes, Riker returned her smile. He just couldn't seem to stay angry with her. He felt like a Ping-Pong ball. One minute he wanted to shake her until she realized the foolish risk she was taking, then the next minute he wanted to . . , well this wasn't the time. Amused he thought, 'this must be what Vash does to the captain.'

"I'm glad. Will, about yesterday, I can be somewhat obstinate. All right, downright pigheaded. I do understand your concerns about your captain's safety on this mission," she admitted, pushing a stray lock of her brunette hair behind one ear.

"It's not just the captain's safety, Catherine." Riker's voice and eyes showed his concern. Back over the net, he thought as he felt his anger growing over her obliviousness to her own peril. "You yourself could be considered a very tempting target."

"I'm always careful on Qo'nos," she said seriously. Then the smile returned to her face and her tone became much lighter. "A very tempting target. I'll remember you said that, Commander."

As Riker watched her walk up to join Deanna on the transporter pad, he shook his head. He felt his anger giving way to amusement. How had she managed to give his very serious warning such a naughty connotation? Turning his attention to Picard and Vash, he strode over to where Vash was standing with the captain.

"Well, sir . ." Riker began.

"The ship is yours, Number One." Picard looked at his first officer and then smiled down at his wife. "Please don't let my wife redecorate anything. My command chair does not need a eyelet lace dust ruffle."

"Understood, sir. No dust ruffles."

"Jean-Luc, don't be absurd," Vash said with mock indignation. "A dust ruffle would look all wrong, a few throw pillows; however."

"Just try to stay out of trouble," Picard teased her tenderly as he took both her hands in his.

"I always try." She looked up at him coyly.

He leaned in closer and whispered, "Always remember."

"Always," she whispered back.

He gently squeezed her hands as his lips brushed hers in a quick, romantic kiss. He stepped back, straightened his uniform and nodded to Riker. Then he took his place on the transporter pad.

Riker looked at Worf standing behind the control console. "Energize."

"Energizing, sir," Worf answered. All three of them watched as the away team dematerialized. Looking down at the console, Worf reported, "The Ikarsha reports the arrival of our away team, sir."

"Thank you, Mr. Worf," Riker replied. He turned to Vash, "I don't know about you, but I could use a drink. Join me?"

"Please," Vash answered gratefully.

Vash and Riker stepped into the turbolift and the doors closed behind them. Once in the privacy of the turbolift, Riker let out a sigh and leaned casually against the wall. Vash looked up to see the concern that was now plainly visible on the first officer's face. She knew Will had the same reservations about this that she did. With a small smile, she said, "We have to believe Jean-Luc knows what he's doing and that they'll be fine, Will"

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Riker chuckled, looking down at her. He should have known she would instantly pick up on his anxiety. "But isn't that supposed to be my line?"

"So sue me," Vash retorted good naturedly. Her tone turned serious and her eyes mirrored his own concern. "I know you're about as happy as I am with this suicide mission."

"I wouldn't call it a suicide mission, Vash," Riker said, trying to reassure her.

"Sure you would," she countered gently. There was no way Will could shield her from the knowledge that her husband was facing grave danger behind enemy lines, but he was giving it the old college try. "And unless I miss my guess, you probably did."

"Do you have the ready room bugged?" Riker asked with mild amusement.

"No, not at all," she smiled again. "It's just that your arguments with Jean-Luc are almost as predictable as my own."

"I'm really trying to play the confident, reassuring executive officer," Riker teased her with mock exasperation. "Could the Queen Bee at least work with me on this?"

"Shame on me," Vash teased back. She glanced down at the floor and then looked back up at the handsome first officer through her lashes, laying a hand on his arm. "Actually, there was a favor I wanted to ask you, but I wanted to wait until after Jean-Luc left, because I didn't want to put you on the spot."

Riker instantly recognized Vash's 'I really want something look'. The Captain could, on rare occasions, ignore that look. Riker never bothered to even try and tended to indulge Vash. After all, he didn't have to live with her There was a glint to Riker's blue eyes as he gave Vash his most chivalrous look. "What does Her Majesty want?"

"Well, I know we're still at red alert and technically that means no bridge clearance for civilians," she paused briefly and Riker nodded. She continued, "If I promise to behave myself, may I be present in the ready room when Jean-Luc contacts you from Qo'nos."

"Under the circumstances, I see no reason why you shouldn't have your normal access to the bridge and the ready room." Was that all she wanted? Riker was very pleased that not only could he grant her request but that he could go one step further. "In fact, if you promise to be a really good girl, once I have ascertained from the Captain that everything is all right, I'll even let you talk to him."

"Oh, Will, thank you!" Vash squealed, totally surprised. Standing on tiptoe to reach, she leaned closer and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You're welcome," Riker replied as he smiled down at her.

........................................

Picard, Troi, and Fontaine materialized onto the transporter pad aboard the Klingon ship. The stale stench of the air assaulted their noses with the first breath. It took a conscious effort not recoil at the foul air. A large, dark Klingon approached the transporter pad. His long hair and beard hung freely. "Captain," he said with a gravel voice, "I am to take the three of you to the bridge."

"You are not the captain?" Picard asked.

"No," came the curt reply. The Klingon turned and walked out. The trio exchanged glances and cautiously followed. Their footsteps echoed through the close corridors as they walked on the steel floors. The entire ship seemed an endless maze of muddy browns and dull grays. Loud, aggressive voices, punctuated by the occasional clang, carried from corridors and rooms they passed on the way to the bridge. Picard was convinced he could not work well on a Klingon ship for an extended period.

Troi pulled Picard back several steps from their Klingon escort. "The tension on this ship is extremely high, Captain," she said quietly as they walked.

"What can you sense?" Picard looked around as if to see the tension for himself

"Nothing specific," Trio replied. "I am feeling great tension throughout the ship; however, I am also getting strong undertones of pride."

"That's not surprising considering what we are attempting," Picard evaluated. "However, keep me advised of anything at all out of the ordinary."

"Yes, sir. Sir," Trio asked after a moment, "what IS ordinary here?"

"I don't know yet, Counselor," Picard admitted.

Several minutes later, the Klingon escorting them was summoned on the ship's intercom. Picard strained to hear the conversation, but the quiet, muffled Klingon was too garbled for him to discern. The Klingon clicked off the intercom and activated the door next to it. He motioned the trio into the small room. "Commander Bak'Rul wishes you to remain here for a short time."

"This is highly irregular," Picard objected. "I must insist on seeing your captain at once."

"These are Commander Bak'Rul's orders. He expects compliance."

"I see," Picard said. "I must tell you that this will be reported to Gowron upon our arrival on Qo'nos."

The Klingon made no reply. After several tense seconds, Picard entered the room followed by Fontaine and Troi. The door closed immediately.

"I don't like this at all, Counselor," Picard said. "Is there anything else you can sense."

Troi was silent for a moment as she appeared to be looking through Picard. Finally her gaze focused. "No, sir. There are far too many strong emotions onboard. It is impossible to separate them out."

"Very well. What do you think, Ambassador?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've seen Klingons act pretty strange before. This may just be wariness on their part."

"Well," Picard sat down on a nearby bench, "I guess we will find out in due course."

Within a half hour, the Klingon returned. "You are to go to the bridge now," came the terse command. There was no attempt at explaining the delay.

As they approached the bridge, Troi whispered to Picard. "The emotions I'm sensing are becoming a little more clear."

"Go on," he muttered back.

"I'm sensing continuous combinations of fear, exhilaration, and for the first time, deception."

"Can you be more specific?' Picard asked.

"No," she answered helplessly. "They are getting stronger though."

The Klingon gestured to the end of the corridor. "The bridge is through that door."

As they approached the door, Troi became more agitated. ''Something's wrong," she warned. ''Something familiar."

"What?" Picard asked.

"I don't know, but I've felt this before. I think it's a person, but it's being screened by the other strong emotions on the ship."

When they reached the end of the corridor, the door opened. At that instant Troi identified the sensation. "Captain!" she yelled. "It's-"

"TOMALAK!" Picard's deep voice resonated across the bridge as he saw the arrogant Romulan waiting for him.

"Ah, Captain Picard," Tomalak greeted him with a smile. "I am flattered that you remembered me so quickly. It has been a long time. Please come in." Tomalak motioned them onto the bridge.

Picard warily entered the bridge with Troi and Fontaine close behind. "What is the meaning of this, Tomalak? Why are you on a Klingon ship taking us to Qo'nos?" he demanded, tugging at his uniform jacket.

"I'm afraid you are somewhat mistaken, Captain," Tomalak once again gave the trio a Cheshire cat grin. "You are correct that this is a Klingon ship, but I'm afraid your destination has changed slightly."

"Has it," Picard stated.

"Yes," Tomalak replied. "You see, I cannot allow you to complete your trip to Qo'nos. The Romulan government has too many people who could be endangered by your presence."

"Tomalak," Picard interrupted, "you know that I pose no danger to anyone. Especially alone."

"I must admit, I was surprised when you decided to leave your ship -- but you are full of surprises, aren't you? This time the tables are turned. It is I who surprised you with Klingons."

"Tomalak . . ."

"Enough of this for now," Tomalak said with a raised hand, cutting Picard off. "We will have plenty of time for small talk after you arrive at your new quarters."

"What 'new quarters'?" Picard asked.

Tomalak looked around the bridge of the Klingon ship with disdain. "I have far too much respect and admiration for you to leave you languishing in surroundings like these. We will soon rendezvous with a Romulan ship. You will be transferred there." He turned his attention to the Klingon captain standing slightly behind him to his right. "You may return our guests to their quarters until I send for them."

Picard's felt his blood chill at the thought of being imprisoned on a Romulan ship. He felt Troi and Fontaine stiffen in response as well.

Commander Bak'Rul barked an order in Klingon. Commander Bak'Rul was short and very solid looking. His deeply lined face spoke of many battles he had seen. Two, large, Klingon warriors instantly appeared behind the three Federation envoys.

"You are kidnapping a Federation ambassador and two Starfleet officers, Tomalak. At best, this is an act of piracy. At worst, it's an act of war."

"On the contrary, Captain. I have not kidnapped anyone. As far as everyone outside this room knows, you are on your way to Qo'nos. After this little misunderstanding with the Klingons is taken care of, then maybe we can talk about in what condition you will be returned to the Federation. Until then, you and I will have plenty of time to talk -- and we have much to discuss." Tomalak gestured to the Klingon warriors. They pushed the trio through the door and off the bridge.

"How much time before we rendezvous with Commander Taibak's ship?" Tomalak asked the Klingon captain after the door closed behind Picard.

"Approximately one half hour I wanted to get far enough away that it appeared we were really enroute to Qo'nos. Immediately after we deliver you and your prisoners, we will be leaving to join other forces of my house."

"Very well, Commander. Advise me when we arrive."

"As you wish," Bak'Rul said with a slight edge of malice.

"I get the distinct impression that you do not like me very much, Bak'Rul," Tomalak noted.

"What I think is not important in this operation, Romulan!" the Klingon captain spat, defiantly looking up at Tomalak.

"Good," Tomalak replied contemptuously. "You know your place."

A low grow erupted from the Klingon's throat. "I do what I do because of loyalty to my house and to the dream of restoring the Empire, not out of any love for you or your kind. One day our two empires will do battle. When that day comes I want to be the captain of the ship that blows you from the stars."

"I hope you get you chance," Tomalak sneered. "But until then, you are still taking orders from me. One other thing, Commander," Tomalak added. "Do not take your eyes off of Picard. He is the best they have. If something happens to him, the Tal Shiar will slit my throat . . .but not before I slit yours. Good day, Commander." With that Tomalak turned and walked off the bridge.

...........................................

As soon as the guards left the room and secured the door, Picard turned to the others. "Opinions?" he asked.

"We're screwed," Fontaine offered.

"Something more helpful would be appreciated, Ambassador," Picard noted dryly.

"The captain of this ship does not like Tomalak," Troi announced

"That might be helpful," Picard said thoughtfully "What else do we know?"

"Tomalak is involved," Troi pointed out the obvious.

"Other Romulans are also directly involved," Fontaine surmised. "They are taking us to a Romulan ship, so it is not just this Tomalak." She paused for a moment. "Who is this Romulan, anyway?"

"Someone we have had dealings with in the past. He feels he has a personal score to settle with me for some reason," Picard explained. "They are transferring us to a Romulan ship," he added, almost to himself.

"That's what Tomalak said," Troi stated.

"Not a Romulan base," Picard pointed out curiously. "They're taking us back to the Romulan fleet facing the Enterprise on the border," Fontaine said in realization.

"That would be my guess, Picard confirmed. "Counselor, you have been on a Romulan ship for an extended period. Is there anything you can tell us?"

"Well, we will probably be separated. They will be merciless, unless they need us alive for some reason. They are more efficient than the Klingons at guarding their prisoners. I doubt we'll be able to escape."

"How would we escape," Fontaine asked.

"I haven't quite worked that out yet," Picard answered.

"Even if we do escape," Fontaine pressed, "where would we go?"

"Communications transmitter," Picard began working out a strategy. "We must make our plans now. Once we are on the Romulan ship, we will most likely not be able to talk to each other." He turned to Troi. "If you found a transmitter, do you think you could operate it?"

"I believe so, sir."

"Good," he nodded approvingly. "Now, both Counselor Troi and I will attempt to escape and locate a transmitter. If either one of us find one, we will contact the Enterprise and advise them of the situation."

"Excuse me," Fontaine asked. "If we try something like that, don't you think they might, oh -- kill us!?"

"Now you know why only the Counselor and I are going to try this," Picard pointed out with a rueful smile.

"Then what am I supposed to do while you and Troi are out gallivanting around the ship?" Fontaine asked.

"Stay alive," Picard commanded. "You don't have any experience with Romulans, do you?"

Fontaine shook her head negatively. "I'm afraid that they are one race I have not dealt with."

"Well, you should be relatively well treated unless they want information from you that you refuse to provide," Picard commented. "Try to stall as long as possible if they try to interrogate you. Keep the conversation on your terms, but above all, remember that these are not Klingons. You cannot act the same way with them as you would with Klingons. They have a different way of doing things."

"What do you mean 'you cannot act the same way with them?'" Fontaine asked apprehensively.

Troi answered. "Klingons expect and respect honorable resistance. It is part of their warrior culture. Anyone who talks too soon would be considered a traitor, not deserving of honor."

"I know," Fontaine nodded. "I dealt with that on a daily basis on Qo'nos."

"The Romulans are different," Troi explained. "They have a very strong sense of honor, but it is very different than the Klingons. They will not assign their values of honor to other races. As far as they are concerned, you are simply a source of information to be exploited and discarded. Where the Klingons might eventually give up an interrogation if they have not gained what they wanted and proclaim your honor in keeping your secrets, the Romulans will simply continue the interrogation until you break or die."

"And knowing the Romulans," Picard cut in, "you would break first."

"Romulan codes of honor," Troi added, "are reserved for other Romulans, provided it does not interfere with the mission."

"Socially, they are more complex than the Klingons," Picard continued. "They are not evil, they just have their own interests that almost always conflict with ours. Machiavelli would have made a good Romulan."

A short time later the door of the room opened. Several large Klingon warriors entered followed by the stout figure of Commander Bak'Rul. "It is time for you to go to the Romulan ship," Bak'Rul growled.

The three prisoners looked at each other and stood up. Picard unconsciously straightened his uniform top as he rose.

Bak'Rul turned to the other Klingons. "Leave us!" he commanded. The warriors turned and left the room without protest. Bak'Rul did not speak until the door was closed. "As a Klingon warrior, I must apologize for what has happened to you. It is a dishonorable, but necessary thing."

"Captain," Picard questioned, "if you do not agree with it, why are you participating?"

"Out of loyalty to my house, and to the Empire -- the real Klingon Empire. Before the Federation. Before the peace. The Empire is a weak shadow of its former glory, and I blame the Federation."

"Then why are you here now?" Picard sounded justifiably suspicious.

"Because I despise Romulans. All they know are lies and deceit. They do nothing straightforward. I've learned that all too well in dealing with Tomalak. I would like nothing better than to tie him to a pole and use him for bat'telh practice."

"Are you releasing us then?" Picard asked warily.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but that is not possible. I may not like the Romulans, but I do not want to be killed by them right now."

"Then why are you here? Surely not just to open your soul to us," Picard assumed.

"You are correct, Captain. I cannot let you go, but I can offer some information you may find useful after you arrive on the Romulan ship."

"What sort of information?"

"The ship you are going to is the lead Romulan ship in the group facing the Enterprise," Bak' Rul offered.

"I thought we would be going back to that group," Picard nodded thoughtfully.

"The ship is under the command of a Romulan named Taibak."

Picard nodded again. "I've spoken to him recently. He's not a very pleasant fellow, although he tries to sound like he is."

Bak'Rul smiled. "That's probably because he's Tal Shiar," he snorted, amused. "I would not want to be in your position."

"Tal Shiar," Picard repeated, letting the comment from Bak'Rul pass. "Is there anything else you can tell me? Is Taibak in charge of the entire operation out here?"

"I believe so," Bak'Rul guessed. "It seems Tomalak is afraid of him."

"Did Tomalak say what they intended to do with us?" Picard asked

"No, not directly. You seem to be valuable as hostages, especially the ambassador," Bak'Rul pointed at Fontaine. "And of course, you are the Arbiter of Succession. It would be wise to keep you out of the treaty debate. The Romulans cannot risk your influence. You are also a good information source as a Starfleet captain. The Romulans don't get their hands on one every day."

"When do we go?"

"In just a minute. Tomalak does not know I'm talking to you. One other thing." Bak'Rul handed Picard a small cubical device with a black button on one side. "This was developed by some of our scientists. It will disable Romulan force fields. You may be able to use it to escape from your cell. After that I can be of no help to you."

"Thank you," Picard accepted the unexpected gift in near disbelief.

"One thing you should know," Bak'Rul cautioned. "You may only use this once. After its first use it will automatically self destruct, so make it count."

"Why are you doing this?" Picard asked in amazement as he hid the device in his uniform.

"Dispel your illusions, Captain," Bak'Rul growled. "I'm not on your side. I am simply using you to make life difficult for the Romulans. I blame the Federation in general and you in particular for what has happened to the Empire, but I dislike the Romulans even more. With you running around their ship, they might be too preoccupied to bother us. I really hope you die in the attempt."

"Thank you," Picard said sarcastically.

Fontaine spoke for the first time. "Machiavelli would have made a good Klingon too."

"Agreed," Picard shook his head at this turn of events.

"Guards!" Bak'Rul called. The door opened and the Klingon warriors standing outside entered. "Take them to the transporter." The warriors escorted the prisoners out of the room and down the corridor to the transporter.

.............................................

Picard, Troi and Fontaine materialized onto the transporter pad aboard the Romulan ship. They immediately noticed the stark, antiseptic atmosphere of their surroundings in contrast to the foul, dankness of the Klingon vessel. Two stone-faced Romulan soldiers approached the pad with disruptors ready. The three slowly raised their hands.

"Welcome to my humble ship," Tomalak greeted them from behind the control console where he stood next to the operator. "I hope you find the accommodations here to your liking. I'm sure they will be better than where you just came from."

"Get on with this, Tomalak," Picard spat angrily. "What do you want with us?"

"Only to be your host for a time," Tomalak replied, sounding like the owner of a resort. "My ship is your ship. I want you to be comfortable and enjoy your stay."

"It's hard to be comfortable with disruptors pointed in my face."

"Crude, but necessary, Captain. I wouldn't want you to leave before you've seen all the sights." Tomalak turned to the soldiers and nodded. They approached the three and placed hoods over their heads.

"Blindfolds?" Picard asked. "I thought we were 'guests'."

"I'm sorry, Captain, this is also necessary. There are certain sights I do not want you to see. He spoke to the soldiers. "Take them to their quarters. See that they get whatever they need to make their stay with us more pleasant. And be sure they do not talk to each other."

The soldiers nodded and lightly pushed them out of the room. "We'll talk soon, Captain," Tomalak called as Picard carefully walked out of the room.

Picard was the last of the prisoners to be placed in a cell. All the cells were out of sight and sound of each other. A soldier standing next to the door deactivated a force field for Picard. He hesitated a moment as a soldier removed the hood. He looked from one soldier to the other, then walked inside. The air took on a slight green shimmer for several seconds, then stabilized as the force field was reactivated.

Picard surveyed his surroundings, squinting his eyes in the temporary brightness. There was a narrow bed with a plastic covering against a wall on one side of the cell. A large bird-of-prey Romulan symbol decorated the wall above the bed. No area of the cell was hidden from the door. The glowing panels around the door were the only indication that the force field was operating. Picard tentatively ventured a hand toward the door. A moderate shock accompanied by a low hum greeted him when he reached the force field. The air shimmered for several seconds afterward. "All right," Picard muttered to himself as he rubbed his hand. He paced the cell for several minutes looking for weaknesses he might exploit later. He was able to see one soldier standing guard approximately twenty feet from his cell. He eventually gave up after having found nothing more, and sat on the bed He thought about the force field deactivator Commander Bak'Rul had given him, but decided it was not yet the time to use it. "I'll be here for a while," he said to himself. "No point getting impatient." He laid back on the bed and put his arm over his eyes, letting out a long breath. So far, this day had not gone quite as planned.

Several hours later Picard heard the hum of the force field. Although he was instantly alert, he did not move. He saw Tomalak and two other Romulans enter the cell. The force field hummed again. They were all in the cell together.

"Wake him," Tomalak ordered. A soldier pushed Picard's shoulder with his boot.

Picard appeared to awake with a start. "What do you want, Tomalak?" he demanded as he sat up on the bed.

"Relax, Captain," Tomalak motioned him to stay on the cot. "I want a great deal. But for now, I just want to talk. That's all. Just talk."

"Do you think I'm going to sit here and 'just talk' to the enemy?" Picard snorted incredulously.

"Oh, I think you'll talk. You have nothing else to do." Tomalak pointed a finger around the room. "This is all you have now. I'm the only person you have to talk to."

"I'm not afraid of solitude," Picard challenged. "And I'm certainly not afraid of you."

"I hope not," Tomalak pressed a hand to his chest as though insulted. "I've come to respect you so much as an opponent. I thought we could talk about old times. And maybe some current ones."

"You're wasting your time, Tomalak," Picard said. "I have nothing to say. I demand to be returned to my ship along with the two others in my party."

"And who might those people be, Captain?" Tomalak asked.

"You know very well who they are," Picard said with contempt.

"Yes," Tomalak acknowledged, "but I so much want to hear you tell me who they are."

"Forget it, Tomalak. I'm not playing today."

Tomalak stood up. "Well, maybe you'll feel like playing tomorrow. Until then, perhaps I'll pay your friends a visit." He turned to the door.

Picard shot to his feet. "Where are they?" he demanded. The Romulan soldiers pointed their disruptors at him. Picard froze.

"Don't worry yourself over them, Captain," Tomalak soothed. "They are quite safe for now. If that changes, I'll be sure to let you know. I'll see you soon."

Picard's voice lowered into a near whisper. "If anything happens to either of those people, I will find you. You can count on it."

"Captain Picard," Tomalak shot back, just before leaving, "it is not wise to make threats against a Romulan commander while a prisoner on a Romulan warbird. It is not healthy. Besides, threats do not become you." With that, the force field hummed off and on. Picard was alone with his thoughts again.

Picard was drifting to sleep. He had been staring at the ceiling for hours. The light in the cell seemed more dim than it had been. A disjointed parade of images flowed through his mind. Gul Madred again asked him how many lights there were. There are no lights, he thought. His eyes half closed, he could see no visible light source in the cell. 'What are the Federation defense strategies for Minos Korva?' Gul Madred's voice floated at him from above his bed. I don't know. Why are you on a Romulan ship? 'I will be with you all your life, human.' 'So will I, Jean-Luc.' Q's sarcastic badgering rang at him. 'Don't you wish I was part of your crew now? I could get you home with a snap of my fingers!' No. Your price was too high. We have to do it ourselves. 'All you'll succeed in doing yourself is dying, Jean-Luc. Is that what you want?' Q chided. 'Death is irrelevant' came the disembodied mechanical voice of the Borg collective, sending a chill through him. No it's not! A death can have meaning If it's for a good cause it can be very relevant. 'There you go again,' Robert said as he tasted a ripe grape. 'If you had stayed on the farm, none of this would have happened to you.' It was a dead life for me. Robert It would have been a sentence I could no more have stayed on the farm than you could have flown a starship. 'That is a logical argument used to defend an emotional position,' Sarek pointed out. 'I sense an inner conflict. You must be one with yourself.' It is difficult Sarek There is a great deal happening right now. 'But that's how you want it,' Vash remarked with an impish glint in her eye. 'You need excitement. Without adventure you would die.' Vash What are you doing here? 'I'll always be with you too. I told you we would make a wonderful team. I wouldn't abandon my partner now.' It's too dangerous for you to be here. 'I'm a part of you Jean-Luc. I can never leave. What do I do now? "I take it the odds are against us and the outlook is grim,' Captain Kirk said, summing up the situation. You could say that. I'm locked up on a Romulan ship. 'Sounds like fun.' Kirk grinned. 'You have to try to make a difference, Captain.' Millions of people could be effected by what I do or don't do 'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,' Spock intoned in perfect logic. Or the one. 'You must follow your path,' Spock lectured. 'As we all must. When the time comes, you will know what to do.' No more people followed as Picard sank into the blackness of sleep.

Picard slowly floated back to the surface. His eyes opened to the Romulan cell, dimmer but unchanged. Picard had lost track of time. By rough estimate he thought he had been on the Romulan ship for a day, but he could not be sure. He looked around, but he was alone. The procession of people in his mind was already fading. He blinked several times to clear his head. It was absolutely silent outside his cell. Very slowly and quietly he rose from the bed and crept toward the cell door. He knew what to do.

Picard retrieved the device given to him by Commander Bak'Rul. 'How does it work?" he whispered to himself. He turned it over several times in his hand. It was small and cubical, not much larger than his communicator pin. It was completely chrome-colored except for the black button on one side. There was no emitter visible. He did not press the button for fear of activating the device before he was ready.

He scanned the wall around the door for signs of a panel or systems relay. Giving up he simply placed the device against the wall with the button facing him. The device attached itself to the wall with an audible click. 'Well,' he thought. 'Now we're getting somewhere. He removed the device from the wall and moved it to where he thought the power relays might be located. Again, he attached it to the wall. "Let 's see what happens." Picard pressed the button. A sparking sound followed by a quick hum came from the emitters as the force field shimmered off.

Picard quickly backed into the cell against the wall, close to the side of the door nearest the guard. Several seconds later, the Romulan soldier poked his head into the cell, investigating the sound of the force field being deactivated. The Romulan turned to see Picard against the wall just as Picard's lightning fast backhand caught him square in the face. As the Romulan staggered backward, Picard was on top of him like a jaguar. The Romulan fell backward to the floor with Picard on top of him applying a chokehold. Within seconds, the Romulan was unconscious. Picard quickly dragged him into an empty cell and took his disruptor. After several minutes of interpreting the controls, he was able to activate the forcefield to the cell the Romulan was in.

He slowly crept out of the holding area into the corridor outside. The corridor was large and empty, stretching nearly fifty feet to another door at the end. Along each side there were closed doors. He thought of attempting to find Troi and Fontaine, but decided against it. They were all blindfolded when they were brought to the cells. There was no way to know where the others were without opening every door in the corridor. If they were in the corridor. There was a greater chance that there would be Romulans behind the other doors.

He walked along the corridor toward the door at the end hugging the wall. Part of him thought this was a useless tactic since there was almost no cover at all along the nearly smooth wall, but he continued anyway. Within a minute he reached the closed door. If he opened it and walked into a main corridor full of Romulans, he would be recaptured in seconds . . . if he was lucky.

Holding his disruptor ready, he opened the door and ducked back. After several seconds he quickly peeked out in both directions. No one was in the corridor. He silently stepped out, keeping to the near wall. This corridor had large struts and small alcoves to hide in. He began walking toward the left for no specific reason. He had absolutely no idea where he was or where anything was located on the warbird. He knew that what he needed to find was a computer interface. Possibly he could then send a message to the Enterprise letting them know he had been captured.

After several minutes walking through the large corridor, a lone Romulan soldier turned into it from the end where he was headed. Picard quickly ducked into an alcove and waited. As the soldier walked by, Picard jumped him from behind. Holding the disruptor to the Romulan's head, Picard pulled him into the alcove. "Stay quiet and you won't get hurt," he ordered. The Romulan nodded. "Is there a computer terminal near here that can be used for communications?" When the Romulan hesitated, Picard drove the emitter of the disruptor into his temple. "Answer me," he demanded. "I don't know what a disruptor will do to a person after a contact firing. Do you?"

"There is a terminal near here that can be used for communications," the Romulan whispered in a labored voice.

"Thank you," Picard loosened his grip slightly. "Take me there."

"You will die before you will ever be able to send a message, human," the Romulan warned.

"I'll take my chances, Picard said. "Now, we are going to walk down that corridor like I'm your prisoner. If you make any move to escape or warn anyone, I'll be sure you get the first shot. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the Romulan replied. "The computer terminal is down the corridor this way," he pointed back the way Picard had come.

"Let's go," Picard ordered. They began walking down the corridor side by side with Picard concealing the disruptor as much as possible. Another Romulan walked toward them from the other end. Picard held his breath as the Romulan walked by without even a glance at them. Picard's prisoner continued walking. "Very good," Picard congratulated. "Continue that and you will be just fine."

"It's in this room, human," the soldier growled in a controlled rage, pointing to a door on the left.

"Open it."

The Romulan pressed the control pad beside the door. It silently slid open. When they were inside, the Romulan closed the door.

"How does it work?" Picard asked, looking at both the Romulan and the computer console. "Will a message from here reach the Federation ship outside?"

"Yes," the Romulan hissed. "Step aside."

Picard stepped back, keeping the Romulan covered by the disruptor. The Romulan began working at the controls. After several minutes he straightened up and moved away. "It is ready," he said. "Press that button to transmit," pointing at a blue button on the upper right corner.

"Good," Picard waved the disruptor. "Back away."

The Romulan backed up as Picard moved to the console. As he reached for the button, the door of the room opened and a dozen Romulan soldiers rushed in with Tomalak right behind.

"Stop where you are, Picard!" Tomalak shouted. Picard froze with his hand three inches above the button. "If you move so much as an eyelid you will die instantly," Tomalak threatened with a venomous voice.

TBC