Disclaimer: Paramount Studios and the estate of Gene Roddenberry own copyright of all things Star Trek. The original plot is my own as are any characters created specifically for this story.

The ship rocked with the impact, the IDF unable to compensate sufficiently. The shields were being drained dangerously by the repeated vicious assaults. Flight was the only sensible course, but then he'd never been overtly sensible. Will Riker could testify to that he thought grimly, 'If I ever get to see him again!' He returned his attention to the current desperate situation. 'Full power to the shields!' He cursed. 'Engineering I need more shields!' He duck as a shower of sparks burst from Tactical. 'You've got all I have sir!' Growling he spat; 'I need more!' The reply was urgent, 'Sorry sir!'

'Damn! Helm, full about, course 180 mark 4. Warp 9. Get us the hell out of here! Now! Tactical, lay a spread of photon torpedoes across their bows, maximum yield. That should slow them down some! I hope!' He sat back in the command chair as his orders were carried out. Hoping that his actions were enough. It seemed they had been. After a brief attempt at pursuit, their attacker dropped back, allowing them to escape in safety.

As he slumped deep in thought he was interrupted by a quiet cough to his right. He turned to his first officer expectantly. 'Yes, Number One, what is it?'

'Damage assessment from all decks now in sir.. And casualty figures.' He sat stunned. It had been so long since.. And yet, the phrase seemed so hauntingly familiar. His mind flashed back to the Cardassian border incursions, his ship ablaze, limping home from yet another encounter. Ambushed by three Cardassian Galor Class warships. Most of his command crew dead or injured, the bridge manned mainly by ensigns fresh out of the Academy. There had been seven Star Crosses, six Legions of Honour, and four Medals of Honour awarded that day. All of them posthumously. Not for the destruction of the warships either, but for saving the lives of their comrades trapped in burning sections of the ship, or preventing further deaths by remaining at their posts when such action was known to mean certain death.

'Er, sir', his first officer, also a veteran of the same conflicts, was wary of interrupting his reverie, and very loath to do so. He snapped himself out of it. Dwelling on the past now would not help, and may even kill the present crew. 'Yes Number One, the figures', he waited dreading the response. 'Sir we escaped materially lightly. The shields have taken a severe battering and will require about three hours to recalibrate and restore to full power. Photon Torpedo Tube One was hit and will require two hours repair time. And decks five through sixteen have all sustained light to moderate damage where the shields began to break down.' He paused.

'Yes, you said 'materially lightly'. What about personnel? Don't spoon feed me, dammit!' DeSoto was angry. 'Er, no sir. In total we lost twenty-one crew, six from engineering, three from medical.. And twelve from security.' He looked up to the tactical station. The ship's security chief was stood looking forward to the viewscreen to the front, but seeing nothing. There was a grim set to his jaw that they all knew, recognized, and sympathized with. They pitied the next man to cross this angry young officer.

The first officer continued slowly, addressing himself to the security officer. 'You should know this. That all your staff behaved in an exemplary fashion, and that the loss of life was incurred as a direct result of their attempts to save the lives of their comrades in arms.'

'No they died at the hands of a cowardly Cardassian!' came the response, in words of granite, between gritted teeth. The captain stood, walked forward and turned. He faced them all, hands clasped behind his back.

'All decks, this is the Captain. Stop what you are doing and listen. As you are aware we have just taken part in an armed conflict. During which it is my sad duty to report that we incurred the loss of twenty-one of your comrades. Let it be known, and recorded in the Ship's Log of this date, that they died, without exception carrying out acts of heroism above and beyond the call of duty, in the majority of cases attempting to save the lives of others of you. And it is in this way that we will remember them.

It is customary on Earth to obey a minute's silence for the loss of comrades in this way. I would be grateful if you would all regardless of species, creed or colour, join me in the observing of this tradition. Please, wherever you are, all stand and face toward the front of the ship.'

In example he turned his back on the bridge to face the emptiness of space, the stars streaking by. Not for the first time following loss of his crew he blinked back tears. He was not hewn from stone any more than any of his peers, but felt the burden of loss more heavily than most. He cleared his eyes with his left hand. Then stood at attention.

'They shall not grow old, as we who are left grow old

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn

In the morning, and at the going down of the sun

We will remember them.'

Throughout the hull the entire crew followed suit and did as he had requested. For a full sixty seconds not a sound was uttered. Wherever an eye was cast the officers stood, ranked facing towards the bow of the ship, at attention. Not a muscle flexed, an eyelid flickered. Not a sound to break the deathly hush of remembrance.

He broke the spell, 'Thank you everyone. Return to your stations. Memorial services where appropriate will take place over the next five days. Captain out. Helm set a course for DS9, maximum warp available. Jean-Luc will want to hear of this!'

'Henry, yes, what is it?' He listened intently for thirty seconds, then, 'Damnation!' He thundered, 'Computer! Get me Jean-Luc Picard! Flag Officer's Priority Channel. Immediately!' He was furious. At the loss of life, at being caught unprepared, 'Hell, at being caught at all!' He swore to himself. The screen cleared abruptly, the seal being replaced by Picard's concerned features, worry etching every line of his face. 'Yes Admiral, I've heard. Where the hell did they get a cloaking device from?'

'I'd ask Kira's friend Martok about that. He plays his cards too damned close to his chest that one. See what you can do.' Jean-Luc nodded. 'Agreed, unless there is anything further?' A shake of the head, no, 'then I shall start immediately, Picard out.'

General Martok. Supreme Commander of the Klingon Defence Force, and Leader of the High Council. Not an easy man to gain an audience with as Picard was, once again, finding out.

'NuqneH?' What do you want? A typically Klingon opening. 'I wish to speak with General Martok.' The response. 'The General is a very busy man!' Picard glowered; 'I realize that. However, when he hears what I have to say I feel that he will wish to speak with me! It is a matter of great importance to both the Federation and the Empire. And sooner rather than later', Picard's diplomatic reserves were running low. Very low. He leaned back in his chair, fighting an urge to bang his fist down on his desk in frustration. That would not help. Although one never knew with Klingons. 'Do'Ha!' That is unfortunate. Not at all helpful.

'Captain', broke in Worf, 'may I?' A nod was his answer, 'I therefore wish to speak with the Emperor Kahless. If General Martok will not assist us then perhaps the Emperor will.' The aide shook his head. 'I cannot disturb the Emper..' Imperiously. 'Qu'vatlh!' Exploded Worf angrily, 'TlhIb qoH! Incompetent fool! Yes you can! You will. If you do not I will be.. irritated. Very irritated. Enterprise out.' He turned to Picard. 'Sir, he knows me. He also knows that I will do as I say. Or that Kurn may be asked to act in my stead. And he fears the wrath of Kurn.' He paused, then continued, not without some surprise, 'we are being hailed sir. By Qo'nos. It is Kahless himself!'

'Reply Mr. Worf.' The screen opened onto a scene of darkness. Thick pillars stretched high towards the distant ceiling. The centre was dominated by a huge stone-carved throne, on which the bulk of Kahless the Unforgettable, or at least a very good clone of him, had reposed for the past two and a half years. He was there now, and looking jovial, for a Klingon anyway.

'NuqneH Worf? My aide seems very upset with you.' Amused. 'TlhIb qoH! I need information.' Worf cut straight to the purpose. 'What sort of information?'

'Captain?' Worf deferred to Picard for the answer. 'We have a problem Emperor. It seems that a hostile cloaked vessel is loose within Federation space. Because of its' origin we do not believe that the device currently being used is Romulan in origin. Which leaves only one option. Obviously we are allies, so this would have to be a theft from the Imperial Klingon Defence Force. I need to know if such a theft has taken place, or if any vessel has gone missing with a cloaking device and has not been recovered as yet.'

'A cloaked vessel? Surely not a problem for the Federation flagship, and the great Captain Picard?' Martok, it appeared, had suddenly found time to interfere. 'Very well. But this information goes no further. Computer, secure this channel', a flurry of bleeps was the response, 'the reason that the Federation is so worried, and you should be too, is this. The vessel in question is a Galaxy Class starship.' Martok's eyes narrowed, 'Under whose command?'

'We believe, the Cardassians.' Picard replied. Martok was not happy. He was very angry. 'TlhIH TlhIb qoHpu!'

'Name-calling gets us nowhere. We admit fault. But so must the Empire for allowing the loss of a cloaking device to an enemy, and one without any honour whatsoever! Now that that is out of the way, perhaps we can resume our discussions? I need to know if there is any way to detect or disable the cloaking device once we have found the vessel carrying it. And I need to know now.' Martok shook his head. 'No, there is no way to disable the device. However, I can offer you the squadron under the command of Worf's brother, Kurn to aid you in your search.'

Picard sighed. It was not the answer he had been hoping for, but he had to concede, it was better than nothing. Just. 'Thank you, agreed. We are currently docked at station DS9. We will rendezvous with Kurn in 48 hours. Picard out.'

'Goodbye Picard. Qapla' Worf.' Worf growled. 'Qapla'!' The connection was broken.

'Medical Emergency! Doctor Bashir please report to the Promenade immediately!' He swore, dropped his drink where he stood, and grabbed his case as he ran from the room. Crusher followed him, quickly surmising that she may be able to assist in whatever the problem was. He was glad of the help, although not entirely settled in his mind about her motives towards him as yet.

They reached the source of the accident in under a minute. As he skidded to a halt, Bashir dropped to one knee by the side of the injured party, Ensign Davies. He was appalled. The young officer had apparently been working on a nearby replicator. It looked as though the power conduit serving the unit had exploded, for the ensign was whimpering from the pain of massive plasma burns to his face and upper torso.

'Bashir to O'Brien. Chief I need an emergency transport for three from my location to sickbay. Bashir out.' He felt the familiar pulling sensation. His vision blurred, blacked out then reappeared. He, Beverly and Davies were now in sickbay. 'Help me get him onto a couch', he instructed her. She was way ahead of him, already gently raising up the stricken ensign's torso. Bashir took his legs and they gently lifted him onto the bed. He reached for a hypospray, only to find it being handed to him by Crusher. He looked at her questioningly.

'Women's intuition! And also a good guess.' He let it go and applied the hypospray to Davies' neck. Almost immediately he relaxed, and the relaxation intensified as he slipped into unconsciousness before their eyes. 'Now the hard part!' Bashir breathed. 'Need a hand?'

'I wouldn't say no. Thought you'd never ask! Oh, sorry, you mean with the operation!' Bashir smiled innocently. Crusher was not fooled. 'Now where have I heard that line before?'

'Well I heard it in a History class at the Academy', he ducked the slap heading his way, 'Anyway, back to business.' He picked up a container of a synthetic skin substitute and opened it. He hated these jobs. There was always residual scarring. Which apart from the distress to the patient, deeply offended his professional pride.

Aboard the rogue Galaxy the air was full of triumph. The new crew, barely had time to get to grips with their new charge before being thrust into battle for the first time. And they had emerged victorious, their foe fleeing before their eyes. 'Excellent work, my friend!' Gul Macet was on good form. 'Thank you', Evek was being overly modest, 'but the real accolade must go to the engineering crews. They had less than two hours warning of the Hood's arrival, and yet still they managed not only to fit the dilithium crystal articulation frame and calibrate the new crystals delivered. They still had time to move us over the magnetic pole of Qualor II to disguise our presence while they installed the stolen cloaking device. I want commendations for every one of them!'

'Agreed. But first we have to get back to Cardassia Prime. And that will not be made easy for us. The Federation are aware of us now, and although they may be unable to stop us, or if they do not find us, to prove that we do indeed possess this ship, it will not stop them from trying. We have given them a bloody nose. And a wounded animal is by far more dangerous than a placid one.

They will be out to get us, and as I believe an old Earth saying goes, they will be 'loaded for bear'!'

'On that note. Helm set a direct course for Cardassia Prime, Warp 6. Engage.'

DeSoto was looking very worn they all noticed. Gone was the previous ebullience, the devilish attitude. He was now far more serious, and grim. They knew the loss of a large number of his crew, and they sympathized. It was Picard who was first to break the uneasy silence. 'Robert, good to see you again, alive. My deepest condolences to you, your crew and their families on your loss.'

The head rose slowly. The eyes dulled. 'Thank you Jean-Luc', he sounded deathly tired, they noticed, 'It's been a rough couple of days. The fighting was short. But so costly.'

'Sir, if I may ask?' Riker inquired gently, 'who was lost in the battle?' Dreading the answer. DeSoto regarded him sadly, knowing the reason for the inquiry. Hating the fact that he had to hurt such a good friend. 'I'm sorry Will', he paused, 'yes, Kelly was one of the number killed. She was in med-lab when a hit dislodged a bio-containment field generator.

She stayed to repair the generator, knowing that in doing so she would save all our lives, infecting herself, and costing her own. We will all remember her with sadness and pride.'

Riker's face was ashen. His features solidified as if carved from rock. His eyes were rock steady, a dangerous glint shining from them as from a laser boring through an uncut diamond. Troi regarded him with concern. She had never felt such a wave of anger and hatred for any species as that which washed over her from Riker at that moment. She had thought she knew him. But the Will Riker she knew was physically incapable of such feelings. She was worried.

She touched his arm gently. He started, jerking his arm away quickly. Now she was alarmed. 'Will, are you all right?' When he looked at her the alarm turned to fear. The expression on his face, or lack of it, was totally alien to his character. His reply did not convince her. 'Yes.. Yes, I'm fine. Kelly was an old friend that's all. As Captain DeSoto said, she will be badly missed.' But there was more to it than that. Troi resolved to dig into him until WiI opened up and told her the whole true story. Feelings such as he was harbouring now could only prove damaging in the future, and must be bought out into the open, and laid to rest. He turned to Picard, 'Captain, if I may?'

'Certainly Number One.' Riker rose and strode out of the office. Troi looked at Picard questioningly. He nodded. She too stood and left to follow Riker. Worf coughed, almost, for a Klingon, embarrassed. They looked at him. 'Sir, if I may ask, what armaments did the ship carry, and how effective is the cloak in operation?' Strangely it felt good to embrace the technical issues, and they set to burying themselves in their work, the human element almost gone. But never completely.

He was walking fast. Almost too fast for her to catch him. His superior height gave him an advantage that was almost impossible to overcome. So she didn't try. 'Will!' No response. 'Will, stop! Please!' He paused, speaking without turning to face her. 'Not this time Imzadi. Not this time.' He resumed walking.

She ran to catch him up as he entered his quarters. Catching his arm, she swung him round. 'Will, I've never seen you like this. Your face, your emotions. They're totally alien to me. And to you too. Tell me, please, who was Kelly? I know she was special. When you spoke to Captain DeSoto I felt the importance of your question. And the grief you felt hearing his reply. But I also know that you..'

'Dammit Deanna, leave it!' He bellowed. She continued unabated, as if he had never spoken. '.. need to release those feelings. If you don't they will eat away at you, eventually destroy you. And I won't let that happen! You're too important. To the ship, to Starfleet, to your friends. And especially to me. Will, you have always known that ours was no simple friendship. I've always known what you are feeling, as the same is true in reverse. And you have always been there for me when I needed you. Please, let me help you now. Let a friend share the burden.. Please.'

Will Riker sat with his back to her, head in his hands, slumped onto a chair in the corner of the room, and as Deanna watched him his shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. Presently the sound of racking sobs came from him as all the pent-up fury dissipated. Deanna stood and paced quietly over to his side. Gently she lay one hand on his shoulder, while the other cupped his chin.

Slowly she raised his head until he was facing her. With one finger she carefully wiped the tears from his face. Then pulled him to her. He put his arms around her waist, and there they stayed. Silent and still, for a long time.

Eventually Will spoke. 'I loved her Deanna.' Quiet. 'I know', she replied softly. 'No you don't! I.. loved.. her. I.. was going to ask her', he paused, then raised his head to look at her. He looked straight into her eyes. He concluded, 'I was going to ask her to marry me.'

Deanna stopped, shocked. It was the first time Will had ever spoken to her of another love. To find out that it was one he'd intended to marry was a double shock. 'You've never mentioned her to me.'

'It didn't seem important. She seemed to lose interest. I still don't know why.. and then I was posted to the Enterprise, and we lost touch. I didn't tell you because.. this sounds stupid.. because I thought you might be jealous.' He sighed. 'You guessed right!' She replied hotly, then grinned. 'Really Will, I thought you knew me better than that. She was a current love. And I had already made my feelings abundantly clear on the subject of us.'

'Imzadi! Forever!' They chorused, and laughed. Will Riker gazed at her and smiled up at her. 'What are you thinking?' She asked; 'About how easily you turned me around. And how much having a friend like you means to me.'

'Come on, there's work to be done!' She held out her hand. and he took it. Together they left his quarters, hand in hand. They knew that the crisis was over. Will Riker was his old self again. Any Cardassians straying too close to him in the near future would have their lifespan drastically shortened. Or at least the remainder would be made exceedingly uncomfortable. They both knew that. But he was Will Riker again. That was what really mattered.

They stripped off their operating gowns and threw them in the waste disposal. Wearily they staggered toward the door, then they slumped together on the chair in the corner. 'Good job Doctor.' He smiled. 'You too Doctor.' She glanced at him. 'I couldn't have done it without you, Doctor.' Smiling. 'Nor I, you, Doctor.' He laughed. 'What is it?'

'Sorry, I just remembered something else from my old history classes. An old Earth saying, from the Chinese, goes something like this.. Man who claps himself on back in danger of breaking his arm.' She laughed out loud. Then looked at him curiously. 'Julian, may I ask you something?' He eyed her dubiously. This did not sound too good at all. 'something' usually meant personal, and given the source of the inquiry he was concerned. 'Er.. computer, Regulan tea, hot', he was playing for time, and they both knew it. Well why not? 'O.K., what do you want to know?'

'About last night', he had been reaching for his drink from the replicator. He froze, and turned to regard her. 'Yes?' He replied slowly. 'Why did you leave so quickly? All I wanted to do was give you a kiss goodnight. You had been really good company, a perfect gentleman. And I wanted to thank you for that. In my own way.' His brain began racing through the night's events. The surprise of finding himself alone in the quarters of another officer. An attractive.. make that very attractive.. female officer's quarters at that. The agreement to a nightcap, and the subsequent swapping of stories of daring do in the field of medicine until the small hours. And the tales of their youth, of their exploits in Starfleet Academy. Beverly noting that her memory had had to work harder than his to remember her youth.

And his feigned surprise. Denials that she would have had to work at all to remember her youth. Her reaction to his flattery. His own panic at her reaction. In reflection it was stupid. She had only offered him a cup of her grandmother's herbal tea. All right, so when she returned she had been dressed rather less formally than she had before. Which considering the lack of material that had been required for the dress was rather eye opening. Not to mention, in his case, frightening. So he had made his excuses and left. In a hurry.

'You fool!' He cursed himself. Then turned to her. 'I.. I don't suppose that the offer is still open, is it?' He inquired a little sheepishly. 'Well I don't know', she began, then smiled, 'of course it is Julian.'

'Then, dinner tonight? My quarters this time?' He inquired, nervously. 'Yes, I'd like that. 1900 all right?' Crusher smiled. 'Certainly. Well I have to go. See you tonight.' She blew him a kiss as he left the room. Whatever she had been drinking, he wanted some. Obviously she was still on a high from the night before. He began to sweat. Julian, what have you done?

'Now, if we are all present?' Nods of assent from around the table. 'You all know the current situation. I want suggestions gentlemen, and ladies.'

'Gather a task-force and use a tachyon grid to sweep Federation space along the course they have to take between Qualor II and Cardassia Prime.' Geordie. 'A good idea Mr. LaForge. But how do we know what course they will take?' Kira spoke. 'They are Cardassians. Creatures of habit. They will want to get home with their prize as quickly as possible. To avoid detection, and the diplomatic incident which would be caused. And also to avoid losing their prize. I think Commander LaForge is right!'

'Colonel', Odo stepped in, 'I believe we are all aware of the Romulan/Duras incident where the use of a tachyon grid prevented border incursions into Klingon space. But I believe I am correct in saying that the idea only worked because the course and speed and location of the convoy was known. All that was required was to expose the location at the right moment. The Romulans would then scurry home. However, even the coverage of that relatively small area required approximately twenty ships. There is no way that I think we can coordinate the number of ships an area the size we are talking about would require.' He turned to Picard, 'Would you say that was an accurate assessment Captain?'

'Yes Constable, I believe so. Also, what is not generally known, and what Mr. LaForge is forgetting, is that the plan was nearly rendered useless by a broadband tachyon pulse from the Romulan convoy, which blinded our sensors. It was only the actions of Mr. Data, commanding the Sutherland, which prevented them from escaping the snare', he turned, 'A good idea Mr. LaForge, sadly in this case, impractical.'

'Aren't we missing something? Wouldn't the perimeter sensors detect the passage of the Cardassian ship?'

'Yes, and no, Counsellor. Yes they would detect the passage of a ship. No, they would not register it as a Threat vessel. You forget, it is essentially a Federation vessel. I think it highly unlikely that having gained control of a Federation starship that the Cardassians would be slipshod enough to omit acquiring an authentic subspace ID transponder. However, I will send a message to Starfleet Command requesting that we be informed of any unusual ID signatures, which are logged in the next few days. Anyone else?' He waited. Riker, silent until now, spoke up. 'Captain, a thought regarding the subspace ID transponder. What if the E-D's transponder is still functional? No reason to think it isn't and if it is all we need to do is confine our request to sightings of the E-D over the last couple of days. The Cardassians are almost as devious as our poker group', he grinned, 'and their sense of irony might be piqued by using our own ship against us.'

Picard considered this briefly. 'Make it so.'