Chapter 4

Flag Officer's log; stardate 58076.3: With all the captains and their crews briefed on the possible invasion of Romulan space by the Borg, we are all preparing ourselves and our ships for a likely hostile encounter with the Borg. I have sent Seven of Nine…Ens. Annika Hansen, my assistant to implement the modifications that we have developed into the Orion's systems. Miss. Hansen has assured me that my flag ship will be Borg ready in a day or two, and the whole fleet in three days.

Meanwhile I am attempting to settle in on board the Orion. I hope I do not encounter any more resistance to my presence here besides the unfortunate conversation I had with Capt. Erika Benteen.

Alivia slide out of the Jefferies tube. "One down, nine to go," she said. "That wasn't so hard."

"Quantum torpedoes were designed to work in Starfleet launch tubes," said Lt. Vladimir Kustov, an engineer from the Lakota and former crewman on the Orion. "They were a bit more powerful than expected, but with a few modifications the launch tubes will function optimally."

"Thank you for your help, Vlad."

"You're welcome, Alivia."

"Excuse me," said Adm. Janeway's ensign who had arrived. "I am looking for a Lt. Cmdr. O'Hara-Grant."

"I am O'Hara-Grant," said Alivia who was still trying to get use to the new hyphenated last name.

"I am Ens. Annika Hansen. Adm. Janeway wanted me to install some Borg defense measures. You are the Chief Engineer. Allow me to assist you." Alivia noted the Borg implants on the woman's face and reminded herself that this woman was once the Borg drone known as Seven of Nine.

"What kind of defense measures are we talking about?"

"Modifying the force fields in all decks to seal off different sections," answered Hansen.

"In case of depressurization or boarding?" asked Alivia.

"The latter," said Hansen. "The modifications include increasing the power to the force fields as well as randomizing their frequencies. The Borg will adapt, but if we make every force field operate at a different frequency it will slow them down."

"Sounds good, Ensign," said Alivia. "Sánchez, can you finish the other torpedo tubes without us?"

"Yes, Commander," replied one of the other engineers.

"Good. Vlad, you should come with us. You will be making the same modifications on the Lakota."

"Of course."

Hansen looked at Vlad. "You are not assigned to this ship?"

"No, I am Lt. Vladimir Anatolyevich Kustov, engineer on board the Lakota."

Hansen nodded. "The Commander is right. It would be good for you to accompany." Hansen then turned and began to walk down the corridor. Alivia and Vlad exchanged an amused look. Hansen was careful not to give orders to the two higher ranking officers, but she was nonetheless leading them around.

Alivia caught up to Hansen. "These modifications sound like a security issue. Have you notified our Chief of Security?"

"No, I have not."

"Just as well make it a party," said Alivia as she tapped her combadge. "O'Hara-Grant to Grant." Alivia had another moment of pleasant surprise as she called her husband. She still couldn't believe that she was actually married.

"Grant here, what can I do for you?"

"Meet us on deck 7, section 3. We have something for you to take a look at."

"On my way."

"Lt. Cmdr. Ulysses Francis Grant is your husband?" asked Hansen in her strange declarative way.

"Yes, we were wed a week and a half ago."

"Then I believe I should be congratulating you."

"Thank you, Ensign Here is one of the force field emitters." Alivia pulled off a maintenance panel. "Let's see what you got." Hansen raised her left eyebrow at the challenge.

They were already done when Frank arrived. "What have we here?"

"Frank, this is Ens. Annika Hansen. She works for the Admiral. She has some ideas on security measures against the Borg. Ens. Hansen, this is Lt. Cmdr. Ulysses Grant."

"A pleasure, Commander."

"What kind of defense measures are you working on?" asked Frank. Alivia noted with pleasure that Frank was on the opposite side of the emitter. So, she activated the force field. With a flicker the field was up. Frank reached out gently and tapped the field. "You didn't bring me here to show me a force field. What's unique about this?"

"The magnitude has been increased," said Hansen. "Also, no two fields will operate at the same frequency." Hansen lowered the field.

"That should slow them down," said Frank as he rubbed his stubbly chin. Alivia would again have to remind him to shave. "What if each field had three different frequencies? Once the Borg adapt to one, the field would switch to another."

"A good idea," said Hansen.

Frank rubbed his chin again. "We will have to control how the fields are deployed. The security office, the bridge, and the battle bridge would all need control over them."

"I also plan on tying them into the internal sensors. When a Borg transporter signature is detected that section's fields will deploy."

"Good," said Frank, and Alivia recognized that eager look in his eyes. His mind was racing with ideas. And he had just found in Hansen someone whom he could bank them off on. "Ensign, I have a few other ideas to use against the Borg. Your opinion would be invaluable."

"I will oblige after I have finished with Cmdr. O'Hara-Grant. Perhaps, in one hour."

"It's a date," said Frank with a juvenile smile aimed at Alivia. Alivia replied with a scowl. Being married was definitely a new experience.

Ens. Rikka Samae was taking a lunch break from her work. She was just about to find another member of the science team when she heard a familiar voice.

"Samae, Samae. Sis, wait up."

"Lieutenant," answered Samae. She tried her best to hide her eyeroll.

"Lieutenant?!" replied Rikka Nolean. "Is that how you address your sister?"

"It is when we serve on the same starship."

"Of course, when we are working. I am aware of proper behavior of officers. But break time is different," said Nolean. "Speaking of which, I was wondering if you would take your break with your big sister."

"I was planning on meeting up with some other science officers."

"Rikka Samae, you have hardly even said hello to your sister since coming on board."

"You sound like mother."

"Well I should, because you sound like a whinny child." Nolean calmed down a bit. "Will you join me for my lunch break, or not?"

"Yes, sister, I will join you," answered Samae. She could only hope that this would get Nolean off her back.

The two of them walked down to the mess hall. As soon as they arrived, Samae saw the Orion woman and chief engineer, Lt. Cmdr. Alivia O'Hara-Grant waving at them. "Nolean, join us." At the table were a number of other engineers, one of whom Samae didn't recognize.

"No thank you, Alivia. I am eating with my sister."

O'Hara-Grant stood up and approached. "So, you're the other Rikka."

"Yes, Commander, I am Ens. Rikka Samae," answered Samae formally.

A small, knowing smile crossed O'Hara-Grant's face. "Welcome on board the Orion. Although I am not sure how I feel about the blue uniform, Ensign; if you are family to Nolean then you are always welcome to join my table."

"I appreciate that, Commander," was the only response Samae could find. She was not accustomed to being approached socially by a senior officer.

O'Hara-Grant turned to Samae's sister. "Nolean, have you seen your boss? He was supposed to joined us."

"Last I saw he was still meeting with the Borg woman, Ens. Hansen. Perhaps he isn't finished."

"Probably not. You know how Frank gets when he is interested in a project. He loses all concept of time. It frustrates me to no end."

"You married him."

"Yes, I did. Enjoy your lunch, Nolean. And you too, Ensign."

"We will," answered Nolean. Samae's sister then led her to the buffet line. "A bit of advice, little sister, on the Orion we have a top-notch chef. You will always be better off taking his food than ordering off the replicator menu. He once made a Bajoran dish. It was the best I've ever had off-world."

"I like Earth cuisine," said Samae.

"Chef Matthews does that well too. He is a human after all. Just don't order any of his Klingon dishes. They are actually authentic, and thus to be avoided."

Samae might have laughed at that, but she was self-conscious. She merely filled her tray and followed her sister. Once they sat down, Samae decided to ask a question. "How is it that you dare speak casually with a senior officer?"

"You mean Alivia?" Nolean pointed to the Orion engineer. "She's a good friend. In fact, I was the Maid of Honor at her wedding. Alivia was raised on Earth, and it is Earth custom for a bride to…"

"I know Earth customs, Nolean. I lived there for four years during my time at the Academy."

"I see," said Nolean, subdued. "I guess I forget about that. I see our Starfleet experiences are a bit different. I transferred in via the Bajoran Militia, and you got to go through the Academy. Have I ever told you how proud I am of you, sis?"

"Yes, Nolean, you have."

"My sister, the scientist! You were always the smart one."

"You are just as smart as I am," said Samae. "You never applied yourself."

"Now you sound like mother," said Nolean. "I found militia work more to my taste. Never could endure a science class. Then again, I did request to be transferred off Bajor and experience the greater possibilities of Starfleet."

"I see you mingle well with the crew."

"Have you ever met a group that I haven't mingled well with?" asked Nolean.

"I guess not." Samae played with a small tomato from her salad, pushing it back and forth with her fork. Nolean watched her with little interest. The silence was almost unbearable. Samae tried to find something to talk about, but she didn't know what.

"Are you ashamed of me or of Bajor, sister?"

Samae nearly fell out of her chair. "Wha…what?"

"Are you ashamed of me or of Bajor?" asked Nolean. "You have been avoiding me ever since you came on board."

"I've been busy," said Samae. "Setting up a new science lab, and now with all the preparations we are making to counter the Borg."

"Don't tell me about busy," retorted Nolean. "Cmdr. Grant has us running more drills than I've ever done. My muscles ache worse than they did at initial training in the Militia. Fighting hand to hand with holographic Borg drones is like punching a metal wall. Yet in all that I am willing to make time for my friends and for my sister.

"And that's not all," Nolean continued. "You barely answered my letters when you were in the Academy, and you certainly never called me. I talked to mother back home, and she rarely hears from you. So maybe it's us. Maybe we embarrass you.

"Or maybe, it's your Bajoran heritage. I never see you wearing your d'ja pagh." Nolean pulled on her ear where her Bajoran earring would normally go.

"That's against Starfleet uniform regulations."

"Only when you're on duty. I put mine on as soon as I go off duty," replied Nolean. "Do you not wish to be associated with your own heritage?"

"No, that's not it," said Samae. "I have just become more comfortable around the Starfleet type. It wouldn't do for me to be talking about my pah or praying to wormhole aliens."

"You mean the Prophets."

"Wormhole aliens, Prophets: same thing."

"Technically, yes. But we are Bajoran. Why not call them by the same name we have given them for centuries?" Nolean reached out and held Samae's hand. "You can be both Bajoran and Starfleet. The people here are open minded. Your boss is a Vulcan. Our second officer is an Andorian. There is a Klingon at the next table eating gagh. And I am a Bajoran. Nobody thinks twice about me."

"But you are a security officer," said Samae emphatically. She wiggled her hand out of Nolean's and pointed to herself. "I am a scientist. I can't be holding on to ancient practices and beliefs. They will get in the way."

Nolean soften her expression. "Maybe so, but maybe not. If there is a way to reconcile our heritage with Starfleet science, then my little sister is the one smart enough to figure it out." Nolean stood and took her tray. "I have to get back. Cmdr. Grant has us reworking our phasers to adapt them to the Borg. Don't shut me out, Samae. I want to help."

Samae watched as her sister left. Then she proceeded to play with the tomato. Her appetite was gone.

Seven of Nine picked up the weapon. "An interesting idea, Commander. Mixing weapons technology from two different species could delay how quickly the Borg will adapt." Seven set the Romulan disruptor back down on the desk. "But I would advise using something other than Romulan weaponry. If the video we saw is true, the Borg have already encountered recent Romulan technology. They will have adapted to it already."

"I see," replied Cmdr. Grant, the head of security on the Orion. "But I don't have access to anything else. And I only have a limited supply of Romulan weaponry on the Orion."

"I did not think that it was standard practice to keep alien weapons technology on board Starfleet vessels."

"It's not," said Grant. "But I like to have additional options. Thank you for your input, Ensign."

"You are welcome, Commander."

"Shoot!" said Grant suddenly.

"Is something wrong, Commander?"

"No, it's just that I'm late for my lunch date."

"Lunch date?" asked Seven.

"Yeah, I was supposed to meet my wife and a few others, mostly engineers, for lunch. If I go now, I can still catch them."

"Then I will leave you to your lunch date," said Seven.

"Or you could come along."

"Commander?"

"You will be serving on the Orion for the near future. It might be good for you to get to know some of the crew. Besides, I wound wager that you haven't eaten since breakfast."

"Then you would have made a good wager, Commander. I will join you." Seven rose from her chair and followed Grant.

They arrived at the mess hall, where they were approached by Lt. Cmdr. O'Hara-Grant. "You're late."

"Sorry, my dear." Grant gave his wife a short kiss on the lips. "Hope you don't mind that I brought a guest."

"Not at all. Please join us, Miss Hansen."

"Gladly," replied Seven. She took her place next to Grant. O'Hara-Grant introduced her to the table.

"Everyone, this is Ens. Annika Hansen. She's an expert on the Borg. Adm. Janeway has brought her on board to prepare the Orion for our mission."

O'Hara-Grant introduced the others at the table. There was the Klingon engineer, Lt. Raklok; two human engineers, Chief Petty Officer Shelton and Lt. Melinda Vibee; and Lt. Vladimir Kustov of the Lakota.

As the various officers were introducing themselves, Seven saw a tall human male with an apron and a chef's hat approached the table. "Cmdr. Grant, what can I get for you today?"

"What are my options?" asked Grant

"He will have the soup," said O'Hara-Grant.

"We've been married for only a couple weeks, and you are already ordering my food for me," said Grant.

"You would have spent most of your lunch break considering the options, before you finally end up deciding on the soup," answered O'Hara-Grant. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Grant gave a sign of surrender. "I guess I'm having the soup."

Seven was just making mental notes of spousal interactions when the cook turned towards her. Seven couldn't help but notice the man's well-maintained physique. "Ensign, please allow me to welcome you on board the Orion."

"I have been suitably welcomed by your captain and much of the crew," answered Seven.

"Ah, but they are all Starfleet. I am a civilian. And on behalf the civilian population of this ship I welcome you. My name is Richard Matthews. Everyone around here calls me 'Chef.' I am in charge of the mess hall."

"I thought the civilian population had been evacuated?" asked Seven.

"I chose to remain. You Starfleet officers and crewmen still need to eat. Speaking of which, we have quite the variety here. What can I get for you?"

"Any standard meal will do."

"No," said Matthews. "Not for a guest. I pride myself on accommodating guests. So, I need you to tell me your favorite food."

"It would be inefficient for you to focus on the needs one crewman, rather than the whole," answered Seven.

"Again, I'm civilian. I have the luxury of being inefficient when I choose. So, I ask again. What is your favorite food?"

Seven was about to object again, when she noticed the whole table was watching with interest. She turned back to Matthews and simply said, "Strawberries. My favorite food is strawberries."

Matthews nodded as though he approved. "I should have some ripe strawberries in a couple weeks."

"You do not replicate them?"

"If I have to. But I believe growing food is better. We have a hydroponics center in which I grow a lot of my food stuffs. The strawberries are not yet ripe, but soon I will make something for you."

"That would acceptable," said Seven. "In the meantime, I will take the soup."

"Very well." Matthews stepped away and returned to the kitchen. As he left most of the table returned to their food, but Lt. Vibee was watching Matthews with her spoon full of soup frozen halfway to her mouth.

O'Hara-Grant also noticed, "Melinda, you're staring."

"Huh?" said Vibee as the spoon full of hot liquid fell on her lap. "Can you blame me?"

"You find Mr. Matthews attractive?" said Seven.

"You don't?" asked Vibee.

Seven had to admit that the man's physique was impressive. "I do not believe it would be good for me to fraternize with members of this crew, given my short duration here."

"I'm not talking fraternizing, just imagining."

"Melinda!" said O'Hara-Grant in an embarrassed voice. "He's good man, not an object for your fantasy."

"Oh, come on, Commander," responded Vibee. "You forget I've seen him in action against the Romulans."

"What do you mean?" asked Seven.

"Chef fought to defend Engineering on the old Orion," said Vibee. "I was with him when he fought the Romulan Colonel."

"Your chef fights?" asked Seven. She had seen Neelix, the mess hall chef of Voyager, use a phaser a time or two, but Seven thought he was an exception.

"Chef, used to be a security officer for Starfleet," explained Grant. "He was a hero during the Dominion War. Fought against the Jem'Hadar. But after the war, he resigned his commission."

"Why?"

Grant paused as if he was reluctant to answer. "He fought in many battles. After the war he wanted to be away from all the killing and death. But his commission was temporarily reinstated on the old Orion, and he once again defended a starship from a boarding party. He was instrumental in stopping Colonel Gaiath."

"Yes indeed," said the Klingon Raklok. "Chef is a warrior and an amazing culinary artist." Raklok's voice rolled in boisterous grandeur. "If he were a Klingon, songs would be sung about the enemies he has slain and the gagh he has prepared." As if to emphasize the point, Raklok consumed a large portion of the wiggling worms on his plate.

"And he would enjoy none of it," said Grant. "Chef did what he needed to do to protect his shipmates and friends, both in the Dominion War and on the Orion. But if he never killed another person again in his life, he would be perfectly fine with that."

"A humble warrior," said Raklok.

"A reluctant warrior," corrected Grant.

"Either way, he looks…"

"Melinda…don't." Vibee gave O'Hara-Grant a disappointed look.

Strangely, Seven found the whole thing enjoyable. These people were very different from the crew of Voyager, but they shared a similar camaraderie amongst themselves.

They were a collective.

Lindsey set the table for three. She opted for a formal setting over the candlelit setting she normally shared with Henry. She also opted to have Chef cook the meal, instead of her own inconsistent cooking.

The door slid open, and Henry walked in. He came up to Lindsey and kissed her on the lips. Lindsey allowed herself to enjoy it for a moment, before she broke the lip lock. "What if the Admiral comes early?"

Henry turned around and sat on a couch. "It's been two years of secrecy and holding back. I guess I grow tired of it."

"Many sentient species court for longer before they move on to the next level."

"And many species don't," replied Henry. He raised his hand and ruffled his blond hair. "It's not the waiting that bothers me." He stood up and held Lindsey's hand. "It's the not knowing, the not having a plan. When are things going to change? When will we find a loop hole in the Starfleet fraternization policies? What if you are promoted? Once you are the full rank of captain, then how will I ever not be your subordinate?"

"I don't know Henry? I am still searching for that loop hole."

"There is one way."

"No! We're not going to talk about this again," said Lindsey.

"We need to talk about it," replied Henry. "If I resign my commission then we would be free from Starfleet regulations and policies. I could find some other useful purpose on this ship."

"I will not let you throw away your career for me," said Lindsey.

"Why not? It's worth it in my opinion." Henry reached out and held Lindsey by the waist and pulled her next to him. As she looked up into his eyes, he told her, "If I could marry you right now, I would."

"But you can't. A captain cannot engage in a romantic relationship with her subordinate, much less marry him."

"So, we're back to my original solution. I resign my commission, cease to be your subordinate, and then we marry."

"Starfleet will never believe you and I were not together before your resignation. It might endanger my potential promotion."

"Then we wait until after your promotion to captain. They cannot take away the Orion so easily if you have the full rank of captain." Henry backed away from Lindsey. "I told you, I can wait. I just need to know that there is a plan; that the waiting will come to an end. The plan: I wait until your promotion, then I resign my commission, and we wed."

"No resigning of commissions! There has to be another way."

"Another way with us together and on the same ship? I don't see it."

"I can't think of this right now," said Lindsey frantically. "I have an admiral on board, Romulan space to enter, and a Borg Collective to fight."

"You're right," said Henry. "Now is not the time. I apologize. However, I need you to promise me that we will talk about this once we've return to Federation space."

"Sure."

"Promise me."

"I promise. We will talk about this once this Borg/Romulan thing is over," said Lindsey as she placed her hands on Henry's shoulders and looked into his eyes.

The door chimed, and both Henry and Lindsey jumped. Lindsey gave Henry a nervous chuckle. "That would be the Admiral."

Janeway stood outside the Captain's quarters for a long couple of seconds before the door slide open and revealed Cmdr. Lindsey Lander. "Welcome, Adm. Janeway. Please come in."

Janeway stepped in and looked at the formal dining table. The glassware was crystal and the silverware looked like silver. The centerpiece was an elegant crystal statue of the Orion. All of this would be easily replicated, but it was impressive, nonetheless. "Thank you, Miss. Lander. I didn't realize this was a formal affair. I might have worn my dress uniform."

"Not formal, Admiral. This is causal," said Lander. "But forgive me if I try to put on a good show."

"You're forgiven," said Janeway as she sat down in the chair that Mr. Hickensen pulled out for her.

"There is wine and salad for your pleasure," said Lander. "If you will excuse me, I will get our dinner."

"You're not using your replicator?" asked Janeway.

"I normally do," said Lander. "But like I said, I'm putting on a show. And I happen to have a gourmet chef on board." Lander gave a slight bow, like a servant, then left the quarters.

Cmdr. Hickensen sat down opposite of Janeway. He looked nervous as he straighten his uniform. Janeway was still amazed by the effect her presence had on a starship. She never noticed such nervousness around her when she was captain of Voyager. But now she was an admiral, and this was not Voyager.

"Mr. Hickensen, where are you from?"

"St. Louis."

"Ah, the gateway to the West. I've seen it, but only from a distance."

Hickensen smiled, "I sometimes wonder what the designers of the arch would think of me sitting on a starship on the edge of Federation space."

"Certainly not the frontier they were envisioning."

"No, I don't image it was, Admiral," said Hickensen. Janeway was happy to see him relax. She had grown tired what she had come to call 'admiral nervousness.'

The door opened and revealed Lander and a tall human male pushing a cart. "Adm. Janeway, this is Mr. Richard Matthews, our on-board chef."

"Greetings, Admiral. May I present to you your main course?"

"By all means."

Matthews lifted the silver dome over the tray. "A typical Mid-West meat and potatoes meal. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, cooked carrots, and gravy."

"I'm impressed," said Janeway.

"You haven't tried it yet," said Lander. "Chef grows the potatoes, carrots, and all the herbs and spices in our hydroponics lab."

"Not the beef?" asked Janeway.

Matthews smiled. "The Captain denied my request to keep live cattle on the ship. Go ahead and try it."

Janeway took a fork full of potatoes. As soon her mouth closed on the fork the taste filled her mouth. After swallowing she had to resist the urge to dig into the rest of the meal. "This is incredible. It is like home cooking back in Indiana."

"I am glad you enjoy it." Matthews gave a bow and left the room.

"I wish I had him on Voyager with us. I might still be in Delta Quadrant enjoying his food." Janeway recalled with repulsion, but also a certain fondness, all the many interesting meals that she had courtesy of Neelix.

"Maybe we should have him cook for the Romulans. It might issue in a new era of peace," suggested Lander.

"I might have to arrange that," said Janeway as she took a sip of the red wine. "This is excellent. Is it replicated?"

"No, that is real Earth vineyard wine, a fine vintage I'm told. With real alcohol, not synthehol." Then Lander with a smile added, "You've been warned."

Janeway returned the smile. "I will be cautious. Did your chef make the wine as well?"

"No, this is from my personal supply. From the vineyards of the late Robert Picard, brother of Capt. Jean Luc Picard. The Captain gave me some bottles when he completed his assignment as my supervisor. He told me that a captain should always have a bottle of wine for VIPs."

"I am certainly glad that both Picard's didn't choose to enter Starfleet," said Janeway as she took another sip. "I haven't had a meal like this in a long time. My first officer Chakotay and I used to eat a regular weekly meal together. Of course, Chakotay was often collateral damage in my ongoing war with the replicator." All three of them laughed. "Thank you, Miss. Lander for inviting me. I think I needed this. This has been a very busy day with all our preparations." What Janeway didn't mention was her upsetting conversation with Capt. Benteen. Janeway knew that she had let the other woman's comments get under her skin, but that was a weakness of hers. She was known to hold a grudge.

"Glad to be of service, Admiral," said Lander. "The day has certainly been full. The Orion was a hive of activity like I've never seen before."

"It might have been a similar hive when you were missing in action," said Janeway. "I read the report from that incident, but it was highly redacted."

"Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to discuss it, Admiral," stated Lander. It was clear that the woman did not wish to discuss her mysterious disappearance two years ago.

"I suppose I should be content with one mystery at a time," said Janeway.

"What do you mean?" asked Hickensen.

"The Romulans," said Janeway. "I've had little experience with them. I've been trying to learn all I can, starting with Starfleet Intelligence reports. There is a lot of data, but little actually said."

"I agree, Admiral," said Lander. "I've read all that I could on the Romulans, and still can't claim to be an expert. I do, however, recommend the reports by Capt. Riker, Cmdr. Troi, and Cmdr. Tuvok, as well as anything you can find from Ambassador Spock. They contain the most current information, and I believe them to be the most accurate."

"You've read all of Starfleet's reports on the Romulans?" asked Janeway in disbelief. She had barely scratched the surface of the information Starfleet had on the Romulans.

"Everything since the rise and fall of Shinzon. It pays to know all you can about your neighbor when patrolling a treaty-made neutral zone. I have even read a few Klingon intelligence reports."

"Klingon?" asked Janeway. "How did you get a hold of Klingon reports?"

"One of my lieutenants is a Klingon. Although he had a falling out with the Klingon military prior to his joining Starfleet, his house is still one of fairly high honor. And word of his heroic fighting in the defense of the old Orion has gotten out."

Hickensen let out a short laugh. "You should hear his rendition of the story, Admiral. I think you will find it to be quite entertaining."

"I'm sure I would be greatly entertained." Janeway returned her gaze to Lander. "Starfleet would be interested in acquiring those reports."

Lander's smile faded into a worried look. "Please don't ask me to hand them over. I promised on my honor that I alone would read them. I don't want to upset the Klingons or put my crewman in a difficult place. I will let you know if anything is of relevance."

Janeway was impressed. And a bit of her anger towards Benteen vanished. She could now see why the other captain stood up for this young woman. Janeway was also a bit proud. She had been one of the admirals that had voted to put Lander in command of the Orion-A. "So, Commander, after patrolling this Neutral Zone for over two years, how do you feel about crossing it into Romulan territory?"

"Honesty, Admiral, not good," said Lander frankly. "I have been trying for the past couple of months to convince Starfleet to reassign the Orion. But now I…we have to take this ship and its crew right into the heart of their territory. I know my duty, Admiral, but forgive me if I am not eager to put this ship or its crew into harm's way."

Lander's face changed into an expression that looked like confusion. "That being said, Admiral, there is a strange eagerness in me."

"How so?"

"I have been reading about these people for years: Donatra, Tal'Aura, Tomalak. Now I will be able to meet them in person; see what they are really like. And perhaps write a report of my own for some other captain or admiral to read. Is that strange?"

"Not at all, Commander," said Janeway as she took another sip of wine. "We're explorers. We seek the unknown. And what's more unknown than the hearts and minds of the Romulan leadership."

"That's one way to look at it," said Hickenen with a slight laugh.

"Indeed, it is," said Janeway. "And, Miss Lander, I will want you with me when we meet them. The Romulan leadership has arranged a meeting with us in three days in their Senate Chambers."

Lander's eyes grew wide. "Three days…Romulan Senate Chambers." Lander looked up at Janeway. "Admiral, the unknown can be scary."