Jo'rek burst into the council building. It was only small, being but a temporary holding for the Senate on the move, but that didn't detract from its majesty. To any human it would be analogous to walking into Ancient Rome in its heyday, with politicians and orators sweeping about the place in their imperial togas and tunics. But Jo'rek didn't care much for spectacle; he had another goal. As he swept through the corridors, a silence engulfed him. The council was not in session and, as such, no noise was emanating from the hallways.

He held his breath, trying to persuade himself that he was about to do the right thing – the right thing not only for himself but for his entire people. With the weight of Romulus on his shoulders, he went up to the door guard, who had been watching his person for some time with curious eyes.

"My name is Jo'rek. I am the son of Praetor Jirruit."

The guard nodded and grunted out some sort of reply. His grey eyes narrowed at the boy. "Yes?"

Jo'rek sighed impatiently. "I need to speak to the praetor. This is urgent."

"The praetor is not to be disturbed, you will understand," the guard maintained, unflinching.

Jo'rek, who was shorter than the guard and certainly not as broad or menacing-looking, was about to acquiesce. But something told him not to give up just yet. "No," he said abruptly, with a shake of his head. "This is very important. Now, I am the praetor's son, so let me in!"

He took his chances. The guard seemed ever so slightly dazed; he was impressed and caught unawares by the youth's bravery. Jo'rek brushed past him, the door slid open with a slight hiss, and he found himself in the office of the praetor. Harsh colours and jagged furniture caught his eye, but he remained calm.

The man in the chair caught his eye but did not speak or move at first. A female Romulan who was not in military dress was stood beside him. Jo'rek narrowed his eyes and shifted unsteadily on his feet. The woman was beautiful but her comely features were sharp and cold. Her eyelids were darkened greatly with some sort of cosmetic substance, and her dress was less than suitable. She cast a look down at the man sat in the black chair; he gave her a look, something that was closer to lasciviousness than kindness, and then she floated past Jo'rek and was gone.

The young cadet cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts. He regarded his father with stern eyes. The man stood up from his chair and circled the desk.

"Father," Jo'rek said the word loudly, firmly; he would not appear weak. As disgusted as he was by his father's total lack of respect for his lost mother, he knew that he couldn't let it show. That would only weaken him.

"Son." The praetor folded his arms over his chest, as if waiting for him to say something meaningful.

Jo'rek took a step forward. "I need to tell you something, father."

"It had better be important," Jirruit snapped. "I'm very busy."

I'm sure you are, Jo'rek had wanted to say back, but he didn't. "I've become aware of some very sensitive news, and I think that you ought to know about it."

"Out with it, then."

Jo'rek stayed his anger. "Your proconsul is trading state secrets with the Federation."

At that, the praetor burst out laughing. Jo'rek stared at him, wordless. Jirruit sobered. "Is he now?"

Jo'rek failed to see what exactly was funny. His entire people's honour and intelligence was at stake, and here was the Romulan leader laughing at the very prospect of it! "Father, will you listen to me?" he pleaded. "This is important."

"Fine, I'll hear you out." The praetor leant against his desk, squarely in front of his son. "Where did you acquire this knowledge from?"

Jo'rek pursed his lips. The last thing that he wanted to do was to drop Lara in it, to endanger her. But he couldn't see any other course of action. What else could he do? "At the academy, the military training academy."

Jirruit raised an arched eyebrow, his dark eyes growing wide. "At the military academy?" he echoed, rolling the words over his tongue. He was very dubious, and understandably so. The planet was not a particularly large one, and nor was it important. It was in the middle of nowhere and held little strategic value. What a strange place it was that apparently held the future of Romulus in its hands. "Are you going to elaborate?"

Jo'rek paused in his thoughts. "I…" He shook his head. "Some cadets that I've grown familiar with… they told me."

The praetor rubbed his temples with his fingertips, evidently starting to get annoyed. "Yes, and how did they learn about this? Because if this is one of your silly-"

Frustrated, Jo'rek shook his head furiously. "No, it isn't," he retorted. "Listen to what I have to say. They heard this transmission between the proconsul and this Federation deputy." He made himself spit out the word 'Federation'.

"What did this transmission say?"

"I don't know for sure," he said, and he could see his father's face fall. "But," he quickly picked up. "It involved the swapping of military and special intelligences. So, while the Federation Chancellor would give Proconsul Lekar some Starfleet inside knowledge, he would get similar things in return."

"This is foolishness. I have known Lekar nearly all of my adult life. Long before you were even born," he declared, shaking his head vigorously.

"Father-" Jo'rek began again.

"No," he said defiantly. "I shan't hear any more of it."

Jo'rek frowned.

Jirruit held up a hand to silence anything else that his son might have to say. He had heard enough for one day. "That's enough stupidity."

Jo'rek laughed bitterly. "Stupidity?" he repeated, a confused looked on his face. "Call it what you want. If you don't act on this, then I guess I will." His face darkened. He made for the door but then paused.

"Was there anything else?" Jirruit asked wearily. His gaze flickered over to the door; not because he was watching his son leave but because he was expecting the return of his lady-friend.

Jo'rek spun on his heel and faced his father, before he found himself marching over to the older man. With a wry smile on his face, he said simply, "No. I think I'll leave you to it. No doubt you're very busy." He feigned looking through the window. "Actually, I think I can see your amton'wi'kha returning."

Jirruit growled some sort of curse word.

Suddenly growing very angry, Jo'rek shook his head. "If Mother could see you now, what would she say? How dare you insult her memory in such a degraded way?"

The praetor, for a moment at least, was lost for words. "You have a nerve to call me – your father – out on such a thing. Don't think that your professors haven't been filling me in on this particularly 'close' relationship you've got with a certain cadet. What's her name?" He pretended to think, rubbing his chin. "Latuka. Ah, yes."

Somewhere inside of Jo'rek, a fire burned. He swore and glared at his father. "Don't you talk about her. You know nothing. I'm doing this for Romulus! For the Empire!"

His father laughed. "For the Empire?" he echoed, laughing bitterly. "You know nothing about what it means to be Romulan."

Those words would have hurt him, but he didn't care much any more.

"Your mother was part-Vulcan. Had I known that, I would never have married her and you would never have been born. But that's in the past, and it can't be changed."

The coldness of his father's tone of voice had hurt Jo'rek, but he was used to it. He held back a flinch and rounded on his father. "I suppose you'll want to know the truth about Latuka and I, won't you?" It felt strange to call her 'Latuka'; he knew that that wasn't her name, and he longed to call her by her real name, human or not.

"You can defend her all you want," Jirruit said with a dismissive wave of a large hand. "No doubt I already know what I need to know. You'll say you're in love." He snorted derisively. "What do you know about love? It's a phase, that's all. And Romulus help me if you plan on marrying her! From what I understand, she's a nobody. We have very few files on her. You disgrace your name, your father and your people."

Jo'rek shook his head bitterly and rounded on his father, but in a quiet tone of voice. "Her name is not Latuka. She's called Lara. And she's human."

Spittle flew from Jirruit's laughing face. He tutted and shook his head. "She's human?" For a moment, he seemed overcome with a sea of rage. But then he quickly settled, smiling coldly. "Yes, of course she is."

"It's the truth," Jo'rek said simply, waiting for the news to settle in his father's mind.

"Get out."

Jo'rek stayed put.

"Get out." This time, the voice was harsher, firmer, louder. Jirruit reached over to his desk and pressed a command button. Jo'rek knew what he was doing. He was alerting the Senate. There would be a manhunt. He backed out of the office without sparing his father a parting look, and ran as fast as his legs would carry him back to the military institution. He had no idea if Lara would be waiting for him, if he had gone too far, if there was no hope. Thoughts raced around the young Romulan's head. If there had been any hope, any flicker of a chance, then he had just killed it. The humans – and the android – would be hunted down by soldiers. And Romulan soldiers were ruthless. Who knew? Perhaps the Tal Shiar was involved. After all, planetary security was at risk.

Jo'rek entered the dormitory, the one that belonged to Lara and him, but there was no one there. "Hnaev," he swore, kicking the wall. The sound ricochetted around the room, and then he was swallowed by the silence. Then he saw a piece of paper lying dejected on the table. He snatched it up and scanned the scrawled writing fervently with his eyes.

Jo'rek,

If you're wondering why we're not in the dorm, it's because we've gone to find a transport. We had to leave; there was no other choice. We've been contacted by Starfleet but we don't see what else we can do. Don't come after us, or you'll only get into trouble. I accept that you've told your father, so don't worry about that. You've probably done us a favour.

Love, Lara.

He shook his head and screwed up the piece of paper, stuffing it in his pocket, and then he took one last glance at the dorm before leaving and hearing the door hiss furiously shut in his wake.

He knew where the transport ships were, and he set off immediately in that general direction, pushing his way impatiently past the many bumbling people making their way through the busy streets. They shouted curses at him, annoyed and confused by his recklessness, but he didn't care. He only cared for one thing, for one person, and she was in danger. Danger that he had put her in.

The sound of artificial quantum singularity engines – that trademark hum and buzz and whir – met his ears. In the distance, on the horizon, he could see the landing pads. As he jogged up to the station, shielding his eyes from the parent star's obscenely bright rays, he called out, "Lara!"

Her head poked out of a transport; the ship had evidently not even commenced its lift-off procedure yet. It was not the Lara that he knew, though. Her cropped hair had been replaced by longer, lighter locks; her eyebrows were no longer swept upwards in arches; her skin was more so pink than green. She was human. That brought a slight warmth to his heart; they must have waited for him. For all of the words in her letter, she obviously cared for him, and she didn't want to leave him behind. But he wondered if she would ever forgive him.

He had not seen the officers rising up from the horizon, behind the installation, disruptors in hand. His senses had been dimmed, for he was too busy looking at Lara, too busy wondering what might happen.

A sea of phrases became apparent to his ears and he knew that it might then be the end.

"Hyaa-aifv-hnah!"came the order. Fire disruptors.

Jo'rek's eyes widened. He saw Lara, Charles, Seb and Data watching him from the transport. He raised his hand, waving for them to leave. "Don't wait for me!" he yelled, above the screech of disruptor-fire and barking military orders. He cursed his father. "Go!" And then he was stopped in his tracks. He fell to the muddy ground, the rocks thrown up by the engines of so many launching and landing craft scraping through his uniform and into his skin. He looked down at his thigh and winced; the area was slowly becoming green, seeped in gushing blood. "Lara, you have to go!" he yelled, his desperate eyes piercing into hers. But by the time he finished the sentence, his voice was vague and quiet.

His urges were ignored. Lara gasped and glanced at Charles and bid him wait for Jo'rek. Charles cast her a pained look; they had to go now. She placed a hand on her brother's and looked at him pointedly. If it were Seb, he would wait for him.

Seb looked at Data; the android was sat patiently, with calculations concerning their prospects of getting away safely occupying his head. "Data," Seb said to him in a hushed voice. "Stop anyone from coming after me."

The android flickered him a quick understanding with his amber eyes, and then Seb jumped out of the transport and bolted over to where Jo'rek had fallen. The soldiers were advancing on them now, and the shuttle wouldn't stay hovering forever.

Inside the craft, Charles rounded on Data. "How could you let him go? How could you?" he accused Data. His eyes wandered to the back of the craft, and he could do nothing but watch helplessly as Seb – his Seb – walked into the crossfire of phasers and rifles and disruptors.

Seb had finally reached Jo'rek, whose wound was now bleeding profusely. "Go back!" Jo'rek ordered him through gritted teeth. "Leave me here. I've done enough."

Seb shook his head and hunkered down and gathered Jo'rek's failing body in his arms. Jo'rek was heavy, but not too heavy. The pair of them were perhaps five metres from the shuttle when Seb felt the ground beneath him leave his feet. He was walking on air, on nothing, and as soon as his brain had registered that, he crumpled to his knees, and soon his chest was nothing but a red mass of blood and gore. The disruptor shot had gone right through his clothing, through his skin, through to the muscle and bone.

Startled, Jo'rek span around and saw that Seb was lying on the ground. The man's eyes were dimming slowly but surely, his breathing was rapid and haggard, his limbs had gone limp and unmoving, and Jo'rek knew what was going to happen. Still clutching his injured leg, he met Seb's eye. The force of the disruptor blast had thrown Seb heavily to the ground and he had cut his face on a piece of rock; through the gash, Jo'rek could just about make out Seb's true, human appearance.

"I'm sorry," Jo'rek muttered. It was a strange feeling, a strange thing for a Romulan to say. They were not a species who often apologised. But Jo'rek had meant it.

Seb managed a grim smile. "Don't mention it." Then he groaned out in pain; he would have liked to have caught Charles' eye, to have apologised and set things right, but there was no time for that. He opened his mouth and whispered something but Jo'rek couldn't hear, so he bent down, his ear to Seb's mouth.

"Tell Charles that I forgive him." Seb's final words met Jo'rek's ears. The Romulan was indeterminably confused, but he was an honourable man and he intended to deliver the message.

Gathering up the last of his strength, then, he closed Seb's now-glassy eyes and limped, braving phaser-fire and threats from his people's military, into the back of he shuttle. And, as he was running to the shuttle, he had a horrible feeling wash over him. He was leaving his planet, his people behind. He was leaving the past behind for a new, unknown future, and he didn't know how to feel. The engine started again and the craft lifted itself up off of the launchpad. The door banged shut behind him, almost catching his foot, and Data hauled him successfully to his feet.

Data scanned Jo'rek's wounded leg with a tricorder and nodded to himself. "It is only superficial."

Jo'rek could have laughed, but any chance of that was scuppered when Lara pressed her lips urgently to his. "Thank God you're safe," she whispered. Jo'rek pushed her gently off of himself and he gestured to Charles, who was sat absently, removed, quietly, at the flying console, his hands dancing blindly over controls. He had not seen what had happened. He did not know.

Data, determined to be of some further use, transferred the control of the craft to himself and positioned himself beside Charles. Charles looked up and saw who was missing. He saw that Seb was missing. He rounded on the Romulan. "Where is he? Where's Seb?" he demanded, pre-eminent tears already beginning to cloud his vision.

Jo'rek, his hand on his wounded leg in an attempt to stem the bloodflow, shook his head. With a solemn face, he met Charles' distraught gaze. "I'm sorry. He- he didn't make it."

Charles stared at Jo'rek after this revelation for a long time. It didn't make sense. He had only been talking to Seb a few minutes before, and now he would never talk to him again. He staggered backwards and wiped away the tears that were permanently falling from his eyes. Lara put her hand on her brother's shoulder. He shrugged it off. "Leave me alone," he said shortly.

Lara sighed sadly; she couldn't help but feel ever so slightly guilty that Jo'rek had survived and Seb had not.

"Seb did not have to come after me," Jo'rek said bluntly as he stepped forward, unaware that he was being insensitive.

Charles shot him an angry glance, and he left the cockpit fully in Data's capable hands. Instantly on his feet, he cornered Jo'rek, not caring if the man was wounded or not.

"He did,though," Charles said through a nearly-clamped jaw. "Because that's the kind of person that he is- was." He caught himself and held in a breath. "You're right. He didn't have to save you. To rescue you. A Romulan who needs rescuing; what sort of a joke are you?" He grinned, in spite of himself. "He shouldn't have gone. You're right about that. He ought to have left you. And now, because of you, he is dead." He droned off and hunkered down to the floor, as he brought his hands up to massage his weary head. "You should have died."

Lara gave Jo'rek an encouraging look. The Romulan advanced slowly, non-threateningly, on Charles. "He told me to tell you that he forgives you."

The shuttle was gathering speed now. They had left the hidden planet's atmosphere and had escaped its magnetic field. Having survived a bit of gravitational turbulence and numerous shots fired from Romulan phasers and disruptors and rifles, the little craft had come into its own. It would not be long before they could advance from impulse power and get into a higher gear. Unlike Federation shuttle craft, Romulan ones were easily capable of achieving a greater velocity. Some of them could even do warp factor five. The transition into super-light speed was slightly bumpy, no doubt because of the injuries that the craft had endured at the hands of the firing Romulans.

Stars became strips and streaks of white light. They no longer glittered and sparkled but became distorted and strange. "It really is beautiful," Lara mused, agape and amazed. Jo'rek had merely grunted at her observation, obviously still in pain from his injury.

She cast her gaze down to her brother, who was still very much despondent and detached. He hadn't even heard his sister's remark about the landscape. And to be quite frank, he wouldn't have cared if he had. He drummed his fingers on the side of the ship; the metal twanged at his touch.

"Look, Charles, I'm really sorry. I am. But we'll get through this," Lara said softly, coming over to sit by him.

His face was still streaked with tears. His hair was still ruffled. His eyes were bleary and blurry, but he didn't care. "Leave me alone," he muttered.

"Charles, please," she began. She wanted so much to make it all right. But she knew that she couldn't, deep down. "You'll - we'll - get through this."

"How can I get through this?" Charles declared, turning to face her, urgent fury written on his face. "Here we are, flying away. We're escaping! And where is Seb? Where! He's lying covered in mud on some godforsaken alien planet, surrounded by killers, and I never got to tell him that I love him!"

Lara could bear it no more. She held out her hands and gathered the despairing young man into her arms. He convulsed and fought but eventually came down and rested his head on her shoulder, sobbing gently and quietly.

"Are all humans this emotional?" Jo'rek asked Data; the two of them were sat at the flying console, keeping tabs on their position and keying in their destination.

Data thought for a moment, turning the question over in his mind. "It would be impossible and futile to make such a generalised assumption. However, I do believe that the majority of human beings do place high value on showing emotions. For example, the Ancient-"

Jo'rek shook his head. "That's enough." He sighed as he glanced at Lara. She returned his look, and Charles waved at her dismissively. "Go on. Go to him. I'm sure they need help with something or another."

Lara bowed her head sadly and met with the two pilots, leaving her brother to his own mournful devices at the back of the ship.