Bolerov awoke with a start to the annoying sound of his comm badge beeping. For a split moment, he realized he had dozed off and hadn't meant to. His shot glass had fallen, but thankfully was unharmed. His precious bottle of vodka, however, had fallen from his sleeping hand and spilled all over the carpet. "Chort!" he cursed in Russian.

His comm badge beeped again. "Captain Bolerov, are you alright?" a female voice came across his badge. He didn't immediately recognize the voice.

Still trying to full awaken, he tapped the badge. "Yes, I'm fine... um... what is wrong?"

"I thought you should know the romulan reporter and his crew have left, Sir." He eventually recognized the voice as belonging to Lieutenant Commander T'nia.

If he didn't know better, he would have sworn she almost sounded annoyed. "I suppose that's for the best, Lieutenant Commander." He replied, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Did all go well?"

"Not entirely," she replied. "G'ershen admitted to me that he was on some form of mission to help dissuade certain politicians from allying themselves with the Federation. Many of his questions were pointed, devisive, and inflamatory."

Rubbing his temples, he straightened up in his chair. "Well, we predicted something like that would happen. Did you walk them through the EMP field as ordered?"

"Yes, Sir. All their electronic equipment should be nonfunctional. They will be most upset when they learn their equipment no longer works.

Bolerov smiled knowingly. "I realize that, Commander. Leave that to me. I shall meet you on the bridge momentarily. We'll determine our next move then."

"I thought you were heading to the bridge to deal with some 'issues'."

Oh, yes... that was the excuse he used, wasn't it... "I was... sidetracked. I will be there shortly. Bolerov out." He tapped his badge. Andrei was about to tap his comm badge again to ask about something, but then forgot what he was about to ask.

Looking to his left, he examined the large puddle of vodka on the ground next to him. He was genuinely disappointed. True Russian vodka was hard to come by. Most alchohol on Earth was made of that disgusting synthohol. Slowly, he stood up and shuffled to the bathroom where he retrieved a handful of towels. Walking back, he tossed them carelessly over the puddle and started stepping on them. There was no doubt about it... he couldn't handle vodka like he used to. He couldn't do many things he used to. Getting old sure wasn't what it was cracked up to be, he thought disgustedly. Remembering what he wanted to confirm, he tapped his comm badge again. "Captain to Lieutenant Davies."

Elaine Davies' voice popped across the small speaker. "Davies here, Sir."

Bolerov continued stepping on the towels. "I trust you were able to intercept the transmissions from our romulan reporting team?"

"Yes, Sir. I made copies of everything that was said, then scattered the rest, as ordered."

Bolerov nodded. "Then none of their transmissions ever reached Romulus?"

"All they got was static, Sir."

"Perfect. Good work, Lieutenant." Slowly, he bent over to gather the wet towels, the almost empty bottle, and the glass.

"Sir," she sounded hesitant, "I'm sure they're waiting for the broadcast." He crammed everything into the replicator and reconstituted it. "What do we tell them?"

Bolerov thought for a moment. "If they contact you before I get to the bridge, just tell them you don't know what happened and that I'll investigate the problem personally."

"Understood, Sir."

"I shall be on the bridge shortly. Bolerov out." He turned towards his door. It would be a cold day in hell before a romulan would outsmart him.