"I don't get it," Bones grumbled as he prepped a hypo. "It's a Romulan civil war. Why do you have to beam down in the middle of it?"
Jim watched him work with a wary eye. Romulus' atmosphere wasn't as inhospitable to humans as Vulcan's had been, but it was inhospitable enough that Jim would need a pharmaceutical cocktail to prevent him from collapsing within minutes of beaming down to the surface.
Then the question registered and he blew out a breath. "Something about their rules for presenting evidence. If that video of the emperor is going to help Di'On, it has to be presented properly, and that means I beam down with her."
"Di'On, huh? Not Ambassador Charvanek?"
"Bones - " Jim broke off, not sure either where Bones was going or what he should say in response.
Bones administered the hypo with more gentleness than he normally did, and Jim quirked an eyebrow in his direction.
"I'm not gonna say anything. Just - I'll have a glass of Kentucky's best waiting when you get back."
"Thanks," Jim said. "I think."
"It's the best offer you're gonna get today," Bones retorted. "Just - be careful."
Jim clapped his friend's shoulder and started for the door. "I always am."
"Depends on your definition of always," Bones's voice faded behind the medbay door.
Jim stopped short at the knot of people waiting in the corridor - a half-dozen men and women in tactical armor. "What the -"
"Commander Spock's orders," Lieutenant Hendorff replied. "We are your honor guard."
Honor guard? What the hell, Spock?
Jim didn't wait for a response through the bond before saying, "I can't ask any of you to -"
"We volunteered," Hendorff replied. "I'm told we'll be dropping out of warp in ten minutes, so we'd better get you to the transporter room. Sir."
"Lead on, then." Jim sent affectionate frustration through the bond, and felt Spock's amused acknowledgment in return.
Jim hadn't been surprised to learn that the Imperial palace was shielded against transport. He was surprised that they were beaming directly into a residence not far from the palace.
"Evieste was my first teacher," Di'On explained as she stepped onto a transporter pad. Jim took his place beside her, and two of each of their crew filled in the other spaces. "She is pleased that someone survives to challenge Raimahan."
When the world re-solidified around them, Jim watched his crew secure the space efficiently, and then his gaze met the amused eyes of an older Romulan woman. How much older was impossible to tell, because she carried herself straight but not stiffly, and her skin held only the tiniest of laugh lines.
Jim spoke a formal greeting in Romulan and was rewarded by a wide smile. Then Di'On was thanking her for her assistance and begging off. It was a strange combination of formality and military efficiency, and Jim suspected he'd look back on the moment as one of the oddest of his life.
Then Di'On was leading them swiftly through dusk-darkened streets toward the palace a few hundred meters away.
What struck Jim the most was the odd silence surrounding them. San Francisco, even Riverside, would be more active than this, with a daytime shift ending and people gearing up for dinner out or other evening activities. But this city - i'Ramnau - was quiet, almost subdued. He'd have to ask Di'On whether that was typical or an effect of Raimahan's coup.
Regardless of the cause, the empty streets made for quick progress.
Progress which was equally quickly stopped as they rounded a corner at the base of the palace grounds. A small phalanx of Romulan troops blocked the approach.
"Stand down," Di'On called in Romulan. "I am Di'On Charvanek -"
Her statement was punctuated by disruptor fire, and Jim dove for cover even as he brought his phaser up to return fire.
Another blast singed the edge of his sleeve, and Jim cursed silently. We're set on stun. They're out for blood.
But these troops weren't tactically trained like his own. They understood only fight, not fight smart. From somewhere to his left, Jim heard Hendorff's quiet orders, and then his people were moving, faster than Jim would have expected, rushing the phalanx, painting them with return fire.
Minutes later, the Romulans had fallen, and Hendorff stood over Jim while Jim regained his feet.
"Good work," Jim told him. Then he turned to Di'On, saw that where two of his crew had been grazed by disruptor fire, she knelt beside the prone figure of one of hers.
"Dead," she announced as she rose to her feet. Her tone was grim, determined. "Let's make certain he did not die in vain."
Di'On kept her expression as neutral as a Vulcan's as they resumed their march on the palace. Inside, she doubted.
She'd assumed that Raimahan had acted alone, or with a few co-conspirators. Running into a phalanx of troops barring the way made her wonder how much support he actually had. Was this a popular revolution, and if so, was she leading her crew and the Enterprise's crew into a deathtrap?
The question she didn't want to acknowledge followed: Was she getting Jim killed for nothing?
But the palace felt empty - there were no signs of clerical staff or courtiers, and the few people they encountered crossing the courtyard to the great hall appeared to be servants and simply bowed and moved aside so that her crew could pass.
Just how many people had Raimahan and his people killed?
Her heart ached, and her spine stiffened. Whatever the number, they would be avenged.
They made a final turn and saw the doors to the great hall standing open.
"Ambush?" asked one of Jim's crew - Hendorff, Di'On reminded herself.
"Tradition," Tafv replied. "A reminder that the Emperor is available to his people at all times."
Di'On inhaled deeply, and exhaled silently, settling her expression and her nerves as best she could. Then she strode forward, into the great hall.
Only to be blocked by two men clad in the armor of the Imperial Guard. The other Guardsmen stationed in the corners of the hall came to attention as well.
"Weapons," one of the two blocking her said.
Di'On handed hers over without protest, glanced at Jim. Grim-faced, Jim complied as well, and his crew reluctantly followed his lead.
Then the Guardsmen stepped aside, and Di'On resumed her approach.
At the far end of the hall, a double handful of people clustered near the base of the dais. On the dais, on the throne, Raimahan lounged indolently.
Fool, Di'On thought. The Emperor has less cause to be lazy than any of us.
"What is the meaning of this?" Di'On recognized the speaker as Praetor Karpan. He was older than her uncle had been, and had served his father before him. Di'On had hated him since she was a toddler and learned what it meant to hate.
So she didn't take her gaze from the man on the throne when she answered, though it took all her self-control not to kill him where he sat so insolently. "Your pardon, Praetor. I come to claim justice for the murder of Emperor Darok Tal."
Raimahan - the man on the throne - didn't seem perturbed. "By what right does a traitor claim justice?"
"By right of blood, and by right of truth," Di'On said.
"You have no rights," Karpan snapped, "save those Emperor Raimahan chooses to give you."
"Which are none," Raimahan said.
Around her, both human and Romulan crews stiffened as the Guardsmen moved forward. Di'On allowed herself a tight smile.
"I have the right to that throne you so treasonously occupy." Di'On switched to Old High Rom and added, "I challenge you, vang'radam. Traitor to all that is honorable, as well as to Emperor you slaughtered."
"I have no patience for this," Raimahan said. "Guardsmen, remove them."
"We will not." One of the Guardsmen, a commander by his insignia, said.
Raimahan straightened, fixed him with a glare. "You are loyal to me. I command you -"
"We are loyal to the Empire," the commander cut him off. "In the person of its ruler. There is a dispute as to who that rightfully is. We stand apart until the challenge is resolved."
Before Raimahan could speak, the commander turned to face Di'On's troops. "If you are loyal to the Empire and not just your mistress, you will secure the hall until this is resolved."
Tafv saluted. "We are loyal."
Di'On watched as her troops moved to stand at intervals along the walls. Behind her, she heard the doors swing closed. Before her, the assembled ministers exchanged uneasy glances.
Karpan stepped forward. "We are enough of the Council to form a quorum. Speak, challenger."
"I am Di'On Charvanek," she began, "and I bear the Emperor's Sigil, by command of Darok Tal. In his name, I accuse the pretender sitting on the throne of regicide."
Briefly, she recounted the events at Babel, concluding with, "With his final breath, Darok Tal bequeathed me the Sigil."
Raimahan leaned forward. "Unlikely he would give the Sigil alone, without the Standard. More likely you stole the Sigil."
"Pardon me."
Di'On started at the sound of Jim's voice. She'd been so focused on Raimahan she'd forgotten his presence beside her.
"But I can verify the sequence of events at Babel."
A stir ran through those gathered in the room, including the Guardsman Commander, and Di'On gestured for Jim to speak.
Jim stood, the lone human in a room full of Romulans in the Imperial Palace on Romulus itself, watching those Romulans process his words spoken in the main dialect of the Romulan language. He should, he supposed, be terrified.
Blood sang in his veins, and he had to bite back a smile.
Finally, the one Di'On had called Praetor stirred. "Who are you?"
The question was asked in Standard, but Jim continued in Romulan. "James T. Kirk, captain of the starship Enterprise, and I bring a true record of the events of stardate 2258.292 that occurred on board."
"You have brought a Federation spy to our homeworld?" Raimahan demanded. "You are a traitor twice over, Di'On Charvanek."
The Praetor lifted a hand. "That is yet to be decided. Speak, Captain Kirk."
"Federation Standard, if you will," Raimahan snapped. "Your accent is an offense before all the gods who ever lived."
Now Jim allowed himself a small, tight smile. "My apologies. I will leave an offering for them before I leave."
"If you leave."
Jim let Raimahan have the last word, turning instead to address the quorum. "Enterprise was assigned to transport a diplomatic party from New Vulcan to Babel for a meeting with representatives from your Empire. Minutes after our arrival at the Babel confederation, the ship we were to meet, Bloodwing, came under attack. We were able to beam twenty-eight people aboard before she was destroyed. One of them was the emperor."
"He survived?" Raimahan asked, and while his voice was steady, Jim caught traces of nerves in his expression.
"Briefly," Jim said. He turned to the Praetor. "If I may?"
The man nodded, and Jim pulled a padd from its place on his belt. He tapped a command into it before turning it toward the nearest wall. Moments later, it hummed to life, projecting a scene onto the wall.
Jim knew what the projection showed - the last minutes of Emperor Darok Tal's life. Because it was a medbay recording, the extent of his injuries could be seen clearly, just as his final words could be heard.
The brief recording hummed to a stop, and Jim found himself looking at Raimahan when he concluded, "So if she doesn't have the Standard, it's because the Standard was destroyed along with the emperor's right arm."
There was silence for almost a full minute before the Praetor spoke again. "Which ships attacked Bloodwing?"
"Haakona, Belak, and Valdore," Jim said, extending his padd toward the Praetor. "I've brought copies of the relevant ship's logs as well."
The Praetor took the padd from him, and Jim fixed his gaze directly on Raimahan before adding, "The last time we met, you were in command of Valdore."
"You," the Praetor's voice was low, but no less deadly for it, and he glared at Raimahan. "You lied to us - you said an unknown force attacked Bloodwing. But it was you. You killed Darok Tal."
Raimahan didn't answer with words. Instead, he tapped a command on the arm of his throne.
The doors to the great hall opened, and a double handful of troops burst in, disruptors firing.
Jim dove to the floor, rolled, and came up with his phaser to return fire.
