Author's Note: Onion time!

This chapter reveals there are layers upon layers to this conspiracy arc (some which will not fully play out until much later in this series).

This chapter also features one of the first important seeds that will lead to Picard's involvement in the Romulan evacuation (and his steadfast resolve to see it through).

Layers.

This has been such a delight to pen. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed weaving it!

I want to say thank you to Lady_Lore. Her version of Sela has really helped me to refine my own version of Sela and give her some real complexity. (If you haven't read any of her Sela fics – I highly recommend!)

Content Warning: Strong language, violence, child abuse, CSA, sexual assault, injury, death, and big honkin' space guns.

Things were unusually quiet as the stolen Romulan Harrier-class ship left Federation space to travel across the Neutral Zone.

There was a small team on the Bridge of the ship. The rest of the volunteer crew were crammed into every available space.

There were twelve people strapped into the crew seats in a small compartment at the back of the Bridge.

Judging by the design of the ship, Data surmised this space was used for ground troop deployment as there was a large rear hatch.

It was a cold ride.

One level down, there were another eight members of the crew riding out the journey in the small canteen space.

They put the shelf-style beds and benches in the corridor to use.

And there were six members of the crew stuffed in every other available space they could find (including fitting a storage closet with a flight seat).

The Harrier-class ship wasn't designed to carry this many people.

And if they ran into trouble and had to hide behind the cloak for an extended period of time, they would find out just how far the life support system could stretch.

Three hours into their journey and things were going well.

They had yet to encounter any Romulan ships. In fact, they hadn't even detected any ships in the vicinity.

"Sir, we're approaching the planet," Data advised.

There out the viewscreen Richard could see it.

Tantalus.

The place where sunshine and comfort were always just out of reach.

Tantalus had provided them with refuge and a small window of growing weather. It had never been enough for a full belly.

"Put us in orbit," Riker ordered.

"Aye, sir," Tasha responded.

Over at the Operations station, Data's hands danced across the console. To the casual observer, it may have looked as if Data were merely conducting a routine scan of the surface.

But the crew knew better.

Data wasn't just scanning the surface.

He was simultaneously scanning the surface and the area around the planet. At the same time, Data cross checked the tachyon signatures for any sign of cloaked vessels and compared it to the sensor readings for warp signatures.

He stopped and turned in his chair.

"We are alone," Data announced.

Will Riker released a heavy breath. He could swear it was the first time he had exhaled since leaving Federation space.

"Sir, I recommend that we take the ship down to the surface," Data said.

He explained that this would allow them to keep the vessel cloaked. If it became necessary, they could hide on the planet and the naturally occurring mineral deposits would help prevent the Romulans from detecting their power signature.

"Alright," Riker agreed.

They landed in open, rocky terrain not far from the treeline.

It would provide limited cover if the team hit a tight spot. Only a small team would leave the ship to recover the information Castillo's team had abandoned in the cave.

Commander Riker agreed to allow small teams a chance to get out and stretch their legs provided they stick close to the ship.

Data would remain aboard and oversee this. Data also kept a watchful eye on the long-range sensors in case there was any Romulan activity in the area.

Castillo estimated that there were approximately three cases full of isolinear chips they had managed to record and translate.

And there was at least twice that amount that had yet to be sorted and translated.

Presently, these chips were hidden in the cave they had called home for the last several years.

"Even if they tossed the place, I doubt they found them," Castillo said.

The rebels had kept their treasure trove well hidden.

"It's not far," Richard assured them.

The cave itself wasn't far from where the ship had set down.

Though the distance was short, the terrain was rough.

Tasha could see why it had been so difficult to grow crops in this place. Even Worf, who often complained that the Enterprise was too hot, shivered against the chill.

"This isn't bad today," Ghost commented. "You should see it in the winter."

For a brief moment, Tasha's thoughts drifted back to the threadbare clothing the survivor's had worn when they were first discovered.

Their clothes were well maintained. But the wear and tear of time took its toll. Tasha knew exactly what it felt like to have to face the elements in nothing but rags. She'd done it as a child on Turkana.

The child.

Castillo had mentioned the loss of a child. He had been deeply hurt by it. And he had said it occurred recently.

Tasha wondered if this was the place.

It must be. She realised.

They recovered all the remains from the stolen ship and there was no child amongst them.

Tasha caught Castillo's arm and pulled him aside. She waited to talk until there was some distance between them and the rest of the group.

"Lieutenant?" Castillo asked.

A pained expression crossed her face. For a brief moment, Richard was concerned Tasha was going to address the embarrassing incident in Ten Forward.

"Before you uh… you mentioned a child. In the Brig."

Tasha paused and bit her lip.

"I just, well, I could talk to Commander Riker, and I am sure we could find time to—"

Tasha wasn't exactly sure what to say.

"If you wanted, that is. I'm sorry if it is hard to come back here."

Her eyes were full of pity. She was fidgeting with her hands, picking at her fingernails like she did whenever she was nervous.

Tasha sighed.

"What I'm trying to say is that if you wanted us to recover the child, your child, we could do that. If you have funerary rights or something you want done, I'm sure we could find the time to—"

Richard stopped her.

"No. Thank you," he said.

He glanced up at the bleak sky overhead. There was never any sunshine on Tantalus.

But there were stars.

And moonlight.

The cool, crisp air often gave a perfectly clear view of the stars above.

Richard had often climbed up a rocky trail that led to an overlook. Sometimes they kept a watch there and Richard volunteered often.

It was cold and they couldn't keep a fire. But it provided the best view of the sky.

Richard would sit and watch the sky for any sign of activity. But as he stared at the stars he wondered how many of these same stars could be seen from Romulus.

From Narendra.

From home.

Richard wondered if his mother had been looking at them too and thinking of him. And he wondered which one was his Tuula.

"Lieutenant?" Tasha asked, pulling Richard back to the present.

"She's where she should be," Richard said with a strange smile.

With her mother.

Tasha offered him a short nod before turning to go.

"Thank you," Richard said, catching her wrist. "I… sincerely, thank you."

She didn't have to ask. It wasn't a part of her job nor their mission. But Richard knew Tasha well enough to understand that she had a great respect for the cultural traditions of others.

She would do anything in her role as a senior officer to ensure others – even guests – had that chance.

Suddenly, Riker stopped.

"Hey!" he called back over his shoulder. "You're gonna want to see this."

The rest of the team rushed ahead.

Worf sneered in disapproval.

"Damn," Ghost remarked, shaking his head in disgust.

Tasha stopped. She gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth.

Richard turned away. He had no need to see it.

"What do you make of this?" Riker asked.

"Ard Ignita," Arandev explained.

There were bodies – dozens of bodies – blackened and charred. Most had collapsed but some were still kneeling.

The ground around them was charred too as if a great fire had consumed them in place.

"Probably the crew of the ship we stole," Ghost said.

"They would have been punished for allowing it," Arandev said. "To lose a ship is a great dishonour."

Tasha was still struggling to come to terms with this.

"Their own people," she remarked in disbelief.

In a way, Richard was pleased to see Tasha react like this. For all the pain and destruction Tasha had witnessed, the horrors of war, the cruelty, the abuse – she remained horrified by it.

She had refused to allow herself to become accustomed to violence.

It wasn't a weakness. It spoke not only to the strength of her character but to the differences between this timeline and the fractured one Richard had witnessed.

This Tasha Yar could be softer than her counterpart. She could be vulnerable.

She didn't have to hide her feelings, to pretend to be unaffected by the senseless violence.

"Why?" Riker asked.

"To make an example of them," Ghost said. "Most of these Uhlans probably weren't more than sixteen, maybe seventeen years old."

No one had to say it aloud. They were all thinking the same thing.

This is what awaited the whole of the Federation if they failed.

Captain Picard sat back in his chair. He turned his attention to the small window behind his desk.

His team, his people, were somewhere out there.

They were running on radio silence in order to maintain the best possible chance of staying undetected.

The Enterprise didn't have the advantage of a cloak and they couldn't risk communication giving away their location.

He simply couldn't risk the lives onboard.

He was already feeling nervous enough about the messages he'd dispatched to the rest of the crew.

Before his death, Walker Keel had warned that they could trust no one.

But given the serious nature of this threat, Jean-Luc knew that he couldn't keep that information to himself. If anything were to happen to him or the Enterprise, Picard had an obligation to ensure someone carried on the fight.

It was why he had ordered Data and Tasha to come up with a solution to covertly communicate the warning about Ekloire Starbase and these new alien mechanical people.

In light of his conversation with Admiral Aaron, Picard felt the noose tightening.

Jean-Luc had dispatched a secret message to Captain Rixx of the USS Thomas Paine. That message itself was like a seed. It contained two more messages along with instructions on how to replicate Data's process.

The messages were for Captain Donald Varley of the Yamato and Captain Tryla Scott of the Renegade.

It was Picard's hope that at least one of them would be in a position to carry the investigation forward in case the Enterprise failed.

Jean-Luc took a slow sip of his tea.

All this conspiracy business had given him a headache.

He returned the cup to its saucer and reached up to massage his temples.

Picard had never cared for that sort of cloak and dagger politicking that dominated the corridors of the Romulan Senate.

The whole situation was a right mess.

Jean-Luc could begrudgingly accept the unfortunate circumstances of the Enterprise-C and the rift in time. He could comprehend the threat of this Romulan invasion.

He could even accept that there was a new alien lifeform encountered in the Beta Quadrant that was previously undiscovered.

But what he couldn't accept was the sheer gall of Senator Proventus.

His attitude, his very assertion that he had a right to interfere was incomprehensible to a man like Picard. It reeked of Romulan entitlement.

Men like Proventus would see their plans through to the end with no regard to the cost it inflicted on others.

Jean-Luc surmised the root of that anger came in knowing he had been the one to send hundreds of lives back to 2344.

Back to their deaths.

There was a very real possibility he would need to make that choice again in two years.

And to live with it for the rest of his life.

"It's always a game of chess with the Romulans," Picard mused aloud.

The Romulans had been one move ahead of them ever step of the way.

Hell, it was a miracle that the Romulans had found Castillo's band of rebels – and that Castillo's team had managed to steal a ship and slip away.

Sheer dumb luck.

Jean-Luc sat up in his chair.

Or was it?

"We'd like your permission to take over one of the unused Chemistry labs," said the Chief Science Officer.

"Just for the weekend," added the Operations Chief.

"Of course," Captain Scott said.

She flashed them both a smile.

"I think it sounds like a wonderful idea."

The two officers beamed with pride.

"Would you be willing to drop by? I'm sure the class would love if it you stopped in," the Operations Chief suggested.

"I'd be delighted to," Tryla Scott said.

Suddenly, her computer pinged with an incoming message.

An encoded incoming message.

"Why don't we meet tomorrow over breakfast and finalise our plan, eh?" Scott suggested.

She dismissed her officers with a small nod.

As soon as the door to her Ready Room closed, Captain Scott put a level one security lock on it. She sat back in her seat and clicked to open the message.

She skimmed the contents. Her dark eyes narrowed.

"Computer, open a secured emergency channel to Admiral Gregory Quinn," Scott ordered. "Message code: Priority One."

It would take a moment for the system to establish a connection.

Scott leaned back in her chair. She folded her hands in a prayer-like manner and rested her chin atop the tips of her fingers.

A second later, a chime sounded to alert her the connection was live.

"Captain Scott, this is an emergency channel," Quinn said as he came on screen. "I trust you have a good reason for using it."

"We have a problem," Scott announced.

Back across the Neutral Zone, Data was overseeing the rotating schedule that gave everyone a chance to get out of the ship and stretch their legs.

It was the first time any of them had set foot on a real planet in months.

Data mentally checked off the next team as they disembarked.

Solis?

Check.

O'Brien?

Check.

Kensington?

Check.

Barclay?

Data glanced around. He poked his head out the back of the shuttle to ensure Reg hadn't escaped from the line or slipped past.

"Chief O'Brien, where is Lieutenant Barclay?" Data asked.

Miles shrugged.

"Said he didn't want to go," Miles answered.

Miles looked back and forth before he leaned in close.

"He didn't look so hot," Miles added in a whisper. "I asked if he wanted to chat but—"

Miles trailed off and shook his head.

"Geordi? Would you please take over?" Data requested.

He handed the tablet to Geordi and set off for the lower level.

Data found Lieutenant Barclay still seated in his flight seat on the lower level. He was nibbling at the bologna sandwich in his ration pack as he absentmindedly stirred his strawberry yoghurt.

"Lieutenant?" Data asked as he approached.

Reg swallowed hard, downing a large mouthful of bologna in one gulp well before it was fully chewed. Reg leapt to his feet at the sight of a senior officer – sending his lunch flying.

Data caught the half-eaten sandwich in one hand and the strawberry yoghurt in the other.

Reg coughed and beat his chest as he choked on his lunch.

"Sorry sir," he managed to get out.

"Please, Lieutenant. I did not come to disturb your lunch," Data said as he handed it back.

Reg was humiliated.

"Please," Data said as he gestured for Reg to resume his seat.

Data sat down in the flight seat across from Mr Barclay. Reg braced himself for a reprimand. Though he could think of nothing he had done to warrant a talking to, Reg was so accustomed to falling short that he assumed he must have done something.

"I screwed up the rotation, didn't I?" Reg said. "I'm so sorry!"

He grimaced and shook his head.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Reg muttered as he chastised himself.

Data blinked in surprise.

"Your absence on the rotation has had no impact. I simply wanted to ensure you were alright," Data explained.

Barclay didn't think it was possible to feel even more embarrassed than he had a minute earlier.

Oh, how he was wrong.

"I'm fine," Barclay lied. "I'm sorry I w-w-wasted your time, sir."

Data frowned.

"You have not wasted my time," Data answered honestly. "Are you certain you are alright? Would you feel more comfortable going out of the ship if I were to accompany you?"

Data had considered the possibility that Mr Barclay was afraid of setting foot on an alien planet. It was no secret Barclay didn't like the transporter and he didn't often go on missions outside of the ship.

"I'm not afraid," Barclay said.

It came out more heated than intended.

"I believe you," Data replied politely before adding, "but please know that fear is only natural."

Barclay slumped back against his seat and turned his attention back to his lunch.

Data stood to go when Reg spoke up.

"I'm not afraid. Truly. I… I'm ashamed," Reg confessed.

Data cocked his head to the side. He knew that human emotions were unpredictable and that there were times when they cropped up in ways that might seem odd or inappropriate.

Data could fathom no reason why Barclay would feel ashamed under the circumstances.

"I want to tell myself that I'm doing the right thing. I wish I could say that I came on this mission because of courage or duty," Reg shared.

An odd, blank look fell on his face.

"But the truth is that I came because I know it's practical," Reg said.

Barclay closed his eyes and sighed.

"No impact," Reg said with a bitter laugh. "The summary of my life."

Data didn't understand.

"Lieutenant?" he asked.

"I'm nobody. I have nobody," Reg said with a small shrug. "Of course, I don't want to be here. None of us do. But I—"

He paused to collect his thoughts.

"I didn't want someone with a family or kids to be out here. Somebody with more to live for than me. That wouldn't be fair."

Reg had desperately wanted to turn down Picard's offer. But his sneaking sense of self-doubt and conscience wouldn't let him.

"It doesn't matter if I die out here. And please – I'm not asking for pity," Reg assured him. "It's just practical."

And it hurt.

"Doesn't feel so great to admit it. But that's why I came," Reg said.

Data gripped Barclay's shoulder.

"It does matter. I would miss you. And there are many others as well," Data said in earnest. "In a professional capacity, I would miss your presence on the team."

Data's features softened.

"And in a personal capacity, I would miss you," Data added.

Reg didn't know what to say.

"And Lieutenant?" Data said before leaving. "As for your motivation to join this mission, that is a courageous decision."

"Watch you step," Ghost warned.

The team followed a rocky, narrow path that led the hideaway. It was only wide enough for one person to pass at a time. It was steep and wound around the icy waters of a lake that provided both protection and fresh water.

The thunderous roar from the waterfall ahead gave Tasha pause.

They hadn't brought any dry, spare uniforms. The weather was chilly, and it would be a jaunt back to the ship.

"Don't worry," Richard assured her.

As they approached, Tasha noticed there was enough of a gap to slip behind the waterfall without getting more than a light spray.

It was evident just how difficult life had been for these men.

Worf sniffed the air before his face soured. Next to the central firepit was a bucket of dried dung.

"We don't have a lot to use for fuel here," Richard advised.

The limited trees were far more valuable for building material than as fuel.

The firepit itself was smaller than Tasha would have anticipated for the number of people that had called this cave home. There were various makeshift beds scattered about made with anything the men could find – moss, rushes, greenery.

Some had homemade platforms hammered together with wooden nails.

A few hammocks were strung up where they could. There were herbs and fish drying too. In the middle of the cave was a signpost.

There were dozens of signs posted with destinations like 'Galveston, TX', 'New Berlin', and 'White Pine, MI.'

Tasha realised with a pang of sorrow that these were all their homes and there were dozens of survivors that had come so far only to die on the verge of going home.

"It's very clever," Tasha said as she turned around to study the room.

She stopped.

There above the entrance someone had carved the word 'Rodhas.'

Rise.

Before Tasha could seriously consider this, another matter commanded her attention.

Castillo, Arandev, Ghost, and Verax had split into two groups to check their hidden caches of information. They kept them in secret compartments, carved directly into the cave floor itself after weeks of painstaking labour.

Some of these caches were under the beds. Others were disguised as piles of supplies.

"We have a problem," Castillo announced.

"Same here," Verax called back.

"What's wrong?" Riker asked.

Richard sighed and ran a hand through his greying curls.

"We have a spy," he announced.

The gentle hum of the forcefield protecting the cell was momentarily suspended.

A shadow appeared on the floor of the cell. Proventus slowly lifted his head.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure, Captain?" Proventus asked.

Jean-Luc stepped inside before reengaging the shield. Because of the delicate nature of their situation, Picard didn't want it getting out that there was a Romulan in the Brig.

With Worf and Tasha's help, they were holding him behind a specialised cell door that prevented any sound and visual input from crossing the barrier.

Jean-Luc himself ensured that food and supplies were beamed directly into the cell.

As far as the Brig crew were concerned, Data was conducting a special experiment that required isolation and darkness.

"You know, something's been bothering me ever since we answered your distress call," Picard said.

He started to pace back and forth.

"You spent more than a decade on the run evading the Romulan fleet," Picard continued. "You spent several years on Tantalus monitoring the Romulans."

Jean-Luc stopped and eyed Proventus with disdain.

"And somehow the Romulans just happened to discover you were there. After all this time?" Picard asked.

"Captain, need I remind you that Tantalus was still an active Romulan outpost?" Proventus retorted.

Sure, it was only staffed part of the year. But it remained an active installation, nonetheless.

"Discovery was always a possibility," Proventus said in a smooth voice.

"Ah! Yes," Picard acknowledged, wagging his finger. "But you expect me to believe that the Romulans just happened to descend upon you without warning in such great numbers?"

His chest was heaving.

"That was no scout party or maintenance team. They brought warships. Enough troops to fan out for a ground search," Picard roared.

He stopped and whipped around, shaking his head in disbelief.

"They were looking for you," Picard said. "They knew Castillo's team was there."

Proventus didn't react.

"What exactly are you accusing me of, Captain? Being present in the wrong place and the wrong time?" Proventus asked.

"I can deduce your motivation. What I want to know is when? How long have you been spying?" Picard demanded.

He feared that Proventus had been sent to plant false information, to mislead Castillo and the others.

"When did you switch sides or were you always a plant working for General Morak?" Picard spat.

Proventus visibly bristled. His face flushed with anger as he leapt to his feet.

"I have never—"

Proventus paused. He needed to compose himself.

"I would never serve the interests of that maniacal traitor and his half-breed abomination," Proventus spat.

The very thought of being accused of working for Morak was enough to get his ire up.

"I told you – I have always served the Empire," Proventus declared.

"Your interests—"

"Are what is best for my Empire," Proventus interjected hotly.

He straightened his shoulders with an air of authority.

"Yes. I tipped the Romulans off to our presence. I told them where to find all the information we stashed away. All of Castillo's precious research," Proventus admitted.

Jean-Luc was at a loss for words.

"Why?" was all he could manage to ask.

"Because though I want to see Morak and his Black Eagles destroyed, I will not turn over proprietary information to your Federation," Proventus explained.

He felt it was a complete betrayal of his values to hand over ship specifications, weapons specs, and information on troop movements.

"I will not give you the means by which you can come against us," Proventus said.

Jean-Luc frowned.

"Come against you? We are not—" Jean-Luc was flabbergasted.

He tugged down his uniform shirt in a huff.

"Starfleet is not in the business of starting conflicts," Picard said.

His voice was tight.

"We only seek to defend ourselves."

Proventus chuckled and shook his head.

"Do you even hear yourself? Is that what you teach your children?" Proventus asked.

He pulled himself up to his full height. He was an elderly man, but he still towered over Jean-Luc.

"Humans," he hissed.

He sneered.

"You may be generations removed from our last war. But we aren't Captain," Proventus said.

Romulans had a much longer lifespan than humans. Proventus had been born in the wake of that last war. His father had been a Commander in the Fleet at the time.

"My people were coming out of the shadow of a long war with the Klingons. We experienced the worst famine in centuries," Proventus said.

The crisis peaked in 2152. The coldest, longest Romulan winter in recorded history led to mass crop failures, a late planting season, and deadly flooding in the heavily populated areas near the Romulan equator.

The terms of their ceasefire meant the Romulans faced a blockade along one whole side of their Empire. The warlike Breen had no interest in trade.

"And you—"

His voice dropped. His eyes blazed with fury.

"Your people had been exploring space all of five minutes when your precious Jonathan Archer started to get chummy with our enemies," Proventus continued.

Jean-Luc crossed his arms and scoffed in disbelief.

"We never would have intervened at Babel if the Romulan Empire hadn't tried to instigate a war," Picard countered.

Proventus threw his arms up.

"We were starving! And no one would trade. No one. Not one bloody power," Proventus roared. "Sure, the Andorians and the Vulcans and the fucking Tellarites were hardly friends."

That was putting it lightly. Picard mused.

"But all of you cared more about maintaining some semblance of formal diplomatic relations with the Vulcans than you did about the billions of starving people in the Romulan Empire," Proventus said.

The Empire had made increasingly desperate entreaties to trade with varying powers.

The Andorians, the Tellarites, Rigellians, Denobulans – they had all turned them down flat.

"A third of our population died," Proventus spat.

The Romulan Government felt that it was at the end of its rope.

"We only wanted to drive a rift between them. We just needed one trading partner to show that we could enter the interstellar political realm with the rest of you," Proventus said.

His voice softened.

"And you were the new kid on the block. And your people were influenced by the Vulcan worldview whether you want to admit it or not," Proventus said.

He shrugged, resigned.

"Suddenly, there are talks about a coalition. An alliance between the greatest interstellar powers. We were deliberately excluded, and we weren't supposed to take that as an invitation to war?" Proventus asked.

Jean-Luc had never quite heard it phrased like that.

"That coalition that became the Federation was necessary because the Romulan Star Empire—"

"TO ENSURE OUR SURVIVAL!"

The two men stood face to face, staring hard at one another. Jean-Luc was grateful for the special forcefield so no one could hear the shouting.

"The audacity of your kind to presume that the lives of my people aren't worth anything in your eyes," Proventus said.

His voice was choked with emotion.

"Fuck your moral superiority. Your Federation only cares when it is convenient. When they want to help the 'right' people."

The elder statesman paused just long enough to compose himself as he looked Jean-Luc up and down.

"You know, I never expected anyone else to get to that ship. I had planned to steal it myself," Proventus explained.

His goal had been to escape and rejoin a group of Romulan exiles that opposed Morak living on Freecloud.

"And somehow the Divines saw fit to deliver me here. How can I ignore such an opportunity? Right here on this ship where it all began," Proventus said.

There was a wild look in his eyes.

"You can stand there and judge me all you want. But everything I have done, I have done for my people," Proventus said.

Jean-Luc's mind reeled. The ethical conundrum was one he had no answer to. The Federation was not in the business of helping oppressive powers.

And there was no denying that the xenophobic and tyrannical Romulan Empire was responsible for the destruction and oppression of countless worlds – none of which did much to soothe starving children in the streets of the Romulan capital.

"And that is why I must do this," Proventus said.

It was the last thing Jean-Luc heard before he blacked out.

Richard Castillo visibly grimaced as he rubbed his mouth in frustration.

"I hate being right about this. Dammit I hoped that—"

He paused.

"Hoped that green blooded pointy-eared bastard hadn't shown his true colours?" Ghost suggested.

Castillo shot him a dirty look. He didn't much care for that kind of talk – especially since he'd heard such comments directly at Sela.

"I'm sorry, that was out of line," Ghost apologised as he met Verax's eyes.

"I know you didn't mean me," Verax replied with a smirk.

"Of course, not – you're our green-blooded pointy eared—" Ghost began to tease.

"Enough," Arandev cut in.

Like Castillo, he shared a great distaste for such language.

"I had hoped we could have trusted one another," Castillo confessed.

His experience with men like Verax and Tiro had taught Richard to forget his preconceptions about the Romulan people.

Arandev put his hands up to stop Richard before he went any further.

"You did what you thought was right," Arandev said.

"Does somebody want to clue the rest of us in?" Riker asked.

Ghost pulled back a heavy woven blanket to reveal nothing more than an empty space.

"The isolinear chips are gone. Someone knew where to look," Verax explained.

His emphasis of the word 'someone' indicated they had a pretty good idea of who was behind it all.

The Romulans had found the cave.

And their stash of isolinear chips.

Years of work collecting information on Romulan troop movements, outpost locations, and ship specifications had vanished.

"Our dear friend, Senator Proventus has been busy," Castillo explained.

Riker grimaced.

"I knew there was a reason I didn't like that guy," Riker commented.

"That was everything we had on Ekloire. Everything," Ghost said.

Castillo snapped his fingers.

"Not everything," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Castillo rushed over to one of the beds. He frantically tore at the bedding, ripping off the worn blankets and rushes to retrieve something below.

"Can you help me with this?" he called back.

Tasha hurried over to help him lift a thick slab of stone.

"Ahn suggested it," Richard said.

His voice was strained as they heaved the great stone off the platform of his bed.

"You've been sleeping on that thing?" Arandev asked, concerned.

"Ahn thought it would be a good idea if we tucked a few things away," Richard said.

Tasha felt the burn in her arms as they held the slab there.

"Can you uh—" Richard gestured with his head for the rest of the team to retrieve the items hidden below.

Worf was quick to snatch the items in question.

"Watch your fingers," Castillo warned as they dropped the slab.

Worf passed the item in question to Commander Riker. Riker turned it over in his hand. There were just a handful of isolinear chips.

"So, this is it," Riker said.

It was difficult to hide the disappointment in his voice. It wasn't that he was ungrateful, but that had come so far for so little.

Richard was breathing hard from the strain of lifting the stone.

"That's…. that's most of what we have on Lantera. A little about the mechs. A few Romulan command codes and some information on the infiltration of Starfleet," Richard explained.

He paused and threw his arms overhead to breathe easier.

"Most important," he managed to choke out, pointing at the stack.

"Right," Riker acknowledged as he clutched the chips.

They had to stay focused. Anything was better than nothing at all.

"Let's get moving," Riker ordered with a sense of urgency.

He didn't need to elaborate. They were all thinking the same thing – they needed to rush back.

Without the wealth of knowledge, Data & Geordi's team would need more time on Lantera. They needed to get the weapon functioning. But in order to do so, they had to stabilise the power core – possibly even interface their own.

That kind of calibration could take minutes or days.

Even if they managed to get the Iconian power cell stabilised on its own, there were still diagnostic computers, repair devices, and tools necessary for the work. All of those pieces required careful testing before they dove into the main project.

They couldn't very well hook up a Federation diagnostic device to a ten thousand year old terminal without running a few tests first.

And then there was the matter of the Romulan tech.

According to Castillo, they had left behind equipment and security devices. They couldn't simply beam onto Lantera – they had to disable a Romulan security field first.

Without the access codes, it would be touch and go finding the right frequency.

Tasha and Worf were confident they could eventually get around it.

But all of that took time.

"Let's get a move on," Riker said.

He slung his pack over his shoulder and headed for the cave entrance. Normally, an away team only carried what was absolutely necessary.

In this instance, they had no idea what they might face so the team had carried full packs and phaser rifles. Worf and Tasha were accustomed to that sort of heavy gear. Even the survivors didn't complain.

Will Riker was by no means out of shape.

But trekking across such harsh terrain while hauling a full pack had left him puffed and irritable.

It didn't help they were also carrying Federation storage crates. They'd been intended to house the treasure trove of information that was now missing.

It was certainly less weight to carry them back empty – but somehow it felt worse.

They were just starting back down the narrow path when Tasha's radio clicked.

"Hold up," she ordered.

. . . . - - - . - . . - . .

A series of clicks sounded from the portable radio communicator. With the possibility of Romulans in the area, the team had taken along old-school radio devices fashioned from the replicator.

It allowed them to communicate free of the Federation channels in case any Romulans may be listening.

"What is it?" Riker asked.

A dark look passed between Worf and Tasha. They both recognised the code and knew Data had only sent word.

"Hold," Tasha answered.

"What is it, Data?" Geordi asked.

Data was hovering near the Operations console as he studied the long range sensors. His brow was furrowed in deep thought.

"I am uncertain," Data replied.

A chill ran up Geordi's spine. That wasn't a phrase he wanted to hear in Romulan space.

"This is the second time a small vessel has passed within sensor range of this planet," Data explained as he pointed to the corner of the screen.

Geordi could see the small, blinking dot that indicated the presence of a vessel.

"Our own system is limited. I cannot tell if it is a Romulan vessel," Data acknowledged.

"Mmm. Let alone the size," Geordi added in agreement.

He didn't like it one bit.

"Didn't they advise this is near a corridor?" Miles asked. "If it's the second ship, there could be a reason they're off course. Small diversion. Maybe a plasma storm?"

By nature, Miles always tried to rule out the simplest explanation before jumping to conclusions.

"I used the radio system to send a warning to the away team to stay in place," Data said.

"Good thinking," Geordi replied.

Miles, Geordi, and Data all leaned in close over the console.

"This could be nothing. It is equally possible our presence has been discovered," Data warned. "But for now, I believe it is best that we keep this information contained."

The last thing they needed was a panic.

Miles checked to his left and then his right to ensure they weren't overhead.

"Sooner or later, somebody's going to start asking why they aren't back," Miles said.

Geordi snapped his fingers.

"We say that one of them slipped. Injured ankle. Everyone's fine – it's just going to take time," Geordi said.

It was a good excuse and one that wouldn't lead to too many questions.

The mood in the cave was tense.

"Why would Data send one word?" Riker asked.

Tasha shrugged.

"There could be a million reasons," she said.

Riker frowned.

"Not helping," he replied.

"I just mean that the purpose of this radio system is to avoid subspace detection. The less we use it, the shorter the message, the easier it is to go unnoticed," Tasha explained.

In her mind, it made perfect sense for Data to send a brief message. She was accustomed to that sort of communication from her days in covert operations.

She had once spent seventy-hours hiding in a supply closet after being ordered to stand down on a mission – with no instructions save for 'hold.'

"I just don't like sitting around," Riker confessed.

Tasha could sense his unease.

"Look, I'm sure Data had a good reason. We both know he's cautious," she said.

"The safest place we can be right now is in this cave," Castillo added.

The other survivors echoed this sentiment.

"The heavy mineral deposits shield us from orbital sensors. It's a rudimentary cloak, but it's a helluva lot better than walking around out there if someone's looking," Verax said.

Riker knew he was right – but it didn't change his feelings on the matter.

"I just wish we knew why," Riker said.

In an effort to set Riker at ease, Arandev offered an anecdote.

"I was once on a geological survey mission to a pre-warp planet. We had to camp out in a cave for three days after flooding drove the local population near our research site," he explained.

Riker knew precisely what Arandev was doing.

"Thanks. Sorry, I've just always been a little jumpy about feeling trapped. Years ago, I was almost stranded on Nervala IV. I suppose that fear has stayed with me," Riker shared.

There was nothing they could do but say put and wait for further instructions.

Tasha reached into her tactical vest to retrieve a handful of ration bars. She offered them to everyone before unwrapping one for herself.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" Riker teased.

Tasha shrugged as she chewed on the end.

"If something does go down, who knows when we'll get another chance?" Tasha replied.

They had left without taking lunch on the assumption they'd eat when they got back.

Richard bit back a smirk.

That was the Tasha Yar he knew.

It took only seconds for Proventus to override the security settings using Picard's communicator. During their two meetings, Proventus had observed the key was linked to Picard's communicator.

Jean-Luc had never seen the chokehold coming.

And once Proventus had him in his grasp, he'd been powerless to stop him. Romulans were physically stronger, and Jean-Luc had been caught off guard.

"Thank you, Captain," Proventus said as he dropped the combadge on the ground next to Picard.

The weakness these humans had shown would be their undoing. Romulans never gave prisoners luxuries like blankets and clothing.

It made it all too easy to restrain and gag the Captain.

Jean-Luc wouldn't be getting out anytime soon.

A young Lieutenant shot up as Proventus swept out of his cell.

"Identify yourself," he demanded.

Proventus had overpowered him with ease.

As he stole this Lieutenant's uniform, Proventus clucked his tongue.

"Pity," he remarked aloud.

A Romulan never would have hesitated to fire. Instinct told Proventus to dial the phaser up to the highest setting and vaporise the body.

But the rational side of his brain suspected firing a phaser would alert the ship to his presence.

Instead, Proventus hauled the unconscious Lieutenant to a supply closet. After binding his hands and feet, he stuffed a spare in flannel his mouth to ensure he couldn't call out for help.

"I guess it is your lucky day," Proventus said.

Disguised in a Starfleet uniform with a phaser in hand, Proventus set off down the corridor.

As the minutes ticked on, Castillo sought to make himself useful.

In the haste to evacuate, many of the survivors had left things behind – notes for loved ones, final words scrawled on scraps of paper, pips that had been spared in the wake of their capture, or gifts made with the intention of one day presenting them upon their return.

Richard set about collecting all of it.

He felt obligated to see each and every one of these mementos to their final home.

Riker was lying on his back on the floor, drumming on his stomach as he tried to think about anything other than their present condition.

Worf kept a watchful eye near the cave entrance.

Ghost, Arandev, and Verax were all quite at home.

Tasha decided to use the time to study their surroundings. All along the walls of the cave were carvings and drawings.

The survivors had sought to make this their home.

Some of the images featured scenes from home like a sunrise on the Gulf and flowers Tasha recognised as native to Betazed.

She walked along the rock wall, studying all the different ways these survivors had found to express themselves through art whether it be etching or chalk and ochre.

Tasha thought it was a shame Data didn't get to see any of it. He would have found it fascinating.

She paused to admire a piece of hanging macramé that looked like falling leaves.

For Tasha, it was a reminder of the shapes and sigils that her grandmother used to draw in the ash near the firepit. When she had been alone on Turkana, Tasha had traced many of those same shapes.

In the ash near her own firepits.

And the rocky soil of the farm.

When Tasha was a courier on Turkana, she used to surround her vehicle with them whenever she parked to catch a few hours of sleep, scratching out each symbol on the dusty plains of central Turkana.

Out of the corner of his eye, Richard caught sight of Tasha moving along the wall as she studied the different images.

He panicked.

She was less than one bunk away from his own.

"This was Ahn's bunk," Arandev said as he approached Tasha.

She was stopped in front of one of the most vivid chalk drawings in the entire cave. Tasha was struck by the scene – one she knew well from Worf's stories.

"Kahless and Lukara," she said in awe.

"Ahn was quite a storyteller," Arandev explained. "Our Lieutenant Gore was quite an artist and did this piece for Ahn. We surprised him with it on the anniversary of his Age of Ascension."

Arandev started to direct her attention to the next piece when Castillo slipped between them – using his body to block the view.

"You were so helpful in finding information about my family. I was wondering if you would be able to help me locate the others when we return?" Castillo asked.

He opened a knapsack to show Tasha all the trinkets he'd collected.

"These deserve to find their way home," Castillo said.

"Of course," Tasha agreed.

Tasha was struck by an idea. She glanced over her shoulder before turning back to flash Richard a smile.

"Why don't we put them into one of the cases for safekeeping? It's not like we need them for the isolinear chips anymore," Tasha said.

Arandev got the hint.

"Come, we'll all help sort them," he said as he accompanied Tasha to one of the cases.

Castillo moved to follow.

Behind him, the image of a lonely canine and a great golden eagle to the backdrop of the sun were left unnoticed.

Wesley slid out from the underside of an elevated shuttle.

He reached up to stretch and then wiped the sweat from his brow.

His usual duties on the Bridge had been replaced with other assignments. Wesley suspected this had less to do with his 'talent' (as Riker put it) and more to do with the Romulan situation.

Wes wasn't entirely privy to the full conspiracy. But he was a bright mind and knew something was up.

Given that they were under a communications blackout and had previously crossed into the Neutral Zone, Wesley had reached one conclusion.

Captain Picard was worried the chain of command had been compromised.

And that was why Wes had gone from sitting at the helm to realigning torque sensors on shuttles that hadn't been used in weeks.

Wesley reached for his ice Raktajino and was disappointed to find it empty.

With a great sigh, Wes hauled himself to his feet. It did feel nice to stretch his legs and his back could do with a bit of a break.

A quick stroll to the canteen would do the trick.

He had just stepped through the door when he found himself face to face with someone. Wes bumped into the tall man and stumbled back.

"Sorry, sir," Wes said quickly.

He was accustomed to anyone else being down on this level. It was one of the small, secondary shuttlebays.

The man sneered.

"I-I am really sorry about that, sir," Wesley repeated. "I'm just so used to working down here alone as of late."

Suddenly, Wes frowned. He quickly recovered, hiding his confusion with a smile.

"I don't think we've met. I'm Wesley Crusher," he said.

Being an observant young man, Wesley had taken note of this man's dark features, pointed ears, and signature sharp eyebrows.

He offered a Vulcan salute.

Proventus visibly bristled.

"I recently transferred," Proventus lied.

"Oh?" Wesley responded politely. "I don't think we've been introduced."

It was evident this answer did not seem to satisfy the boy's curiosity.

"No. No, we have not. I transferred here last week," Proventus said.

He moved to walk around Wesley. All Proventus needed was access to a shuttle.

Wes stood in the doorframe for a moment.

There were no new transfers. There had been strict travel restrictions in place for the last several months. In fact, Wes knew for a fact the last time they'd had any real contact with another ship or outpost had been during their stop at Relva VII.

Wesley tapped his communicator.

"Acting Ensign Crusher to the Bridge," Wesley said.

There was a brief pause followed by the smooth voice of Lieutenant Hawk.

"Mr Crusher?" Hawk asked.

"Sir, there's a—"

Wesley never got the chance to finish his sentence.

He hit the wall with such force that Wesley was completely knocked off his feet.

"Aaarggh!" Proventus called out as he brought down a spare piece of coolant tubing.

Wesley's training kicked in and he rolled out of the way just in time. He scrambled back like a crab to avoid a series of blows.

"Get back here, boy!" Proventus shouted.

Proventus may have been stronger – but Wes had speed on his side. He slipped around the nearest adjacent corridor in search of anything to put distance between them.

"Security to the—"

Wes realised he'd lost his combadge in the struggle.

Damn. He cursed as he surveyed the area for anything that might help.

Wesley was down on one of the lower decks. There weren't any people stationed in the area. The closest Security team was two decks up and it would take them at least a few minutes to get down there.

In any case, Wesley knew he needed to warn the Bridge.

And to do that, he had to reach a communications terminal. Any officer would be able to simply use voice commands to interact with the computer.

As an Acting Ensign, Wesley didn't have that privilege.

"Stop!" Proventus ordered.

"Ensign Crusher?" Lieutenant Hawk asked.

He frowned.

"Try him again," Hawk ordered.

Ensign Lawson shook her head.

"I can't raise him, sir. I don't show any interference," she reported.

"What was his location?" Hawk inquired.

"Secondary Shuttlebay. Deck 17," Lawson answered.

Lieutenant Platt, who was sitting in at Operations to cover Data's absence, turned in his seat to propose a theory.

"He is young. Perhaps this was a prank?" Platt suggested.

Hawk shook his head.

"Not from Crusher. He wouldn't do that," Hawk said.

He'd served with Wesley enough to know he wasn't like Hawk was himself at that age.

"Dispatch a Security Team to Deck 17 to check it out," Hawk ordered.

Hawk was one of the few officers that had been briefed on the situation. Though he was willing to volunteer for the mission, Picard had chosen to keep Hawk on the Enterprise.

Jean-Luc needed someone he could trust.

Hawk didn't know if it was instinct or simply the fact that Captain Picard had failed to return to his Ready Room.

Either way, Hawk didn't want to take a chance.

Bang.

Wesley fought the urge to jump as Proventus hit the wall. He was hiding inside a Jefferies tube adjacent to a storage room.

"I know you're in here, boy," Proventus growled.

Wesley flattened his body against the wall of the Jefferies tube and tried to make himself as small and quiet as possible. There was an access hatch that led to the level above. Wesley was reluctant to go for it lest it tip off his pursuer.

He was worried that this intruder would be able to rip open the panel and snag him before he could climb through and seal it.

Suddenly, the door slid open and then closed again.

Wesley did not move.

He closed his eyes and held his breath and waited. Wes counted the seconds in his mind as they ticked by, listening for any sound that might giveaway the location of this intruder.

And just when he thought it was safe to move, Wesley resisted the temptation and started counting again.

Fourteen… fifteen.

He flinched as Proventus smacked the wall again.

It had been a trap.

Wes made a mental note to thank Worf and Tasha for their training.

"Come out and I will allow you to live," Proventus declared.

Wesley knew he had to move.

He made a mad dash for the access shaft, cracking it open and scrambling up just as he heard Proventus rip off the access panel to the wall.

Proventus lunged for Wesley, but he managed to escape to the next floor.

To Wesley's surprise, the intruder did not pursue him further. Proventus realised that he would only wind up further from the shuttlebay if he continued.

Time was tight and he needed to get off the ship as soon as possible.

Wesley didn't stop to check. He knew there was an emergency alert activation terminal near the lift.

He was exhausted. The muscles in his arms and legs were sore from sprinting as he crawled. His back ached from being hunched over.

He counted each marker as he passed until he reached the right access panel.

It was rarely used. With as new as the ship was, Wesley suspected he might very well be the first person to open it.

"Come on," he said as he pushed his body weight against it.

It wouldn't budge.

Wesley manoeuvred, turning his body in the small space. He hissed as he bumped his head against the top.

He planted his feet against the panel. Wesley took a breath to steady his nerves. Then, with a mighty groan he pushed against the door with all the strength he could muster.

After several agonising seconds, Wesley collapsed, panting, against the floor.

He lunged at the door.

"Argh! Come on," he huffed.

He slammed his body against the panel – once, twice.

"Whoa!" Wesley cried as he stumbled out.

He landed hard on the carpet of the adjacent corridor. Wesley could already feel a bruise forming on his shoulder where he'd pushed his weight into the door.

Wesley blinked a few times as he got his bearings. Ensigns Lynch and Biederman were staring down at him.

"You knocked?" Lynch teased, offering Wes a hand.

"Boy am I glad to see you," Wesley said as he was hauled to his feet.

He started to brush off his uniform and suddenly stopped. Wesley whipped around the look down the corridor.

"There's someone here," he said.

Lynch and Biederman didn't follow.

"I mean someone that shouldn't be. Someone that's not… an intruder! Headed for the shuttlebay!" Wesley finally managed to get out.

Biederman tapped her communicator.

"Biederman to Bridge. We've located Acting Ensign Crusher. We're going to investigate a possible suspicious person near the secondary shuttlebay," she reported.

"He said he had just transferred here," Wesley went on. "He attacked me."

It certainly explained why Wesley was so on edge.

"I… I think he may have been a Romulan," Wesley added.

Biederman and Lynch turned to one another and frowned.

"Get yourself up to Sickbay, Ensign," Biederman ordered as she drew her phaser.

Wesley nodded and made for the lift. He was so worked up from the incident that he didn't even realise his hands were trembling.

All of a sudden, Lynch and Biederman's communicators pinged with an urgent message from the Bridge.

"Security Team? We're reading unusual activity in the secondary shuttlebay. Someone has blocked Bridge access and deactivated the emergency Bridge override," Lieutenant Hawk ordered.

"Someone has powered up a shuttle and has initiated the shuttlebay door opening procedure," Lieutenant Platt chimed in. "I am an attempting to override."

"Get in there and shut it down!" Lieutenant Hawk said.

Biederman and Lynch rushed off – requesting backup as they raced down the corridor.

"Wait! Wait!" Wesley called after them.

He abandoned the lift and chased them down toward the secondary shuttle bay access arch.

Wesley was already out of breath and hardly in the same shape as the athletically inclined Security officers.

Fortunately, Lynch and Biederman paused just outside the door to formulate a plan of attack.

"Wait!" Wesley managed to choke out.

He hunched over, breathing hard from the sprint.

"Get back on the lift. That's an order," Lynch said.

"Wesley, it's not safe," Biederman added, hoping to appeal to his senses.

There was no telling what awaited them behind that door. And it was certainly no place for young, unarmed Acting Ensign.

Wes put a finger up, pleading with them to hold off.

He stood up and pointed emphatically at the terminal next to the arch. It took Wes a moment to compose himself.

"Manual override… I can…. hack… hack from here," he panted.

Biederman's eyebrows shot up. She turned to her partner, Lynch.

"By all means," Lynch said.

Wes went to work.

His fingers danced across the touchscreen LCARS interface – general shuttlebay functions, secondary security protocols, shield lockout, level override…

"You know something? You're alright, kid," Lynch said.

Biederman flashed a grin and winked.

"Soon as this is done, whoever is in there is going to be looking for their next way off this ship. You should get up to Sickbay," she warned.

They all knew the shuttles had limited weapons. With the door blocked, it was possible the intruder would turn and point them at the arch to blow away any possible Security that came to apprehend them.

"I'm locking down the shuttlebay controls. I've sealed the door. With your permission, I can vent the atmosphere around the shuttle. We could trap them inside the shuttle," Wesley offered.

He tapped the screen to move to the next level of controls.

"That should prevent them from accessing any of the secondary escape routes," Wesley explained.

There were two access points in the room – both leading to Jefferies tubes.

"Do it," Biederman said.

They couldn't risk this intruder slipping away into the bowels of the ship.

"Security team, report," Hawk's voice rang out.

"Thanks to Mr Crusher, our intruder is trapped on the shuttle, sir. We'll stay and monitor the door," Biederman said.

Up on the Bridge, Lieutenant Hawk breathed a sigh of relief. The crisis was averted.

Well, more like delayed.

There was still the matter of who this person was and what they were doing on the ship.

"Bridge to Captain Picard," Hawk said.

They had been trying to reach the Captain ever since they learned of the intruder's presence. Hawk had even gone so far as to dispatch teams to check the holodecks, Ten Forward, Sickbay, and the fitness centre.

"Sir, I'm not showing Captain Picard's life sign aboard the Enterprise," Ensign Lawson reported.

A chill settled on the Bridge.

"But I can't find any record of him leaving or accessing the transporter," Lawson went on.

It was unusual to say the least.

Reluctantly, Hawk turned to another option. He tapped the control panel on the armrest of his chair to open a ship-wide channel.

"Captain Picard, please report to the Bridge," Hawk said.

It was his hope that there was simply a malfunction.

Maybe our intruder has done something to scramble comms? Hawk theorised.

Once the message was out, Hawk turned to the other Bridge officers.

"Platt, get Engineering on the horn. I want them working on comms. Let's rule out any technical issues," Hawk ordered.

He turned to look at Ensign Lawson behind him.

"And in the meantime, I want a deck by deck search. Keep it subtle. We don't want any panic. But let's make sure our intruder hasn't planted any unpleasant surprises, eh?" Hawk instructed.

"So anyways, I told Alyssa that she's better off taking the package deal because they can always reschedule," Beverly said.

Deanna and Beverly were sitting together near a large rock, picking at their lunch, as Beverly dished the latest gossip from Sickbay.

Nurse Alyssa Ogawa and her boyfriend, Anthony Powell, were trying to plan shore leave for that magical moment when the travel restricts would be lifted. Beverly had found a fast friend in the young nurse – she reminded Beverly of her younger self.

"And with the way things are going—"

She trailed off.

"Well, who knows when any of us will get shore leave again," Beverly lamented.

She poked at her ration pack a bit before setting it aside.

"Strawberry yoghurt. Again. Ugh," she said.

Both women laughed.

Only, Deanna's laugh was half-hearted. Beverly could tell something was bothering her.

"Is it the mission?" Beverly asked, cutting right to the point.

Deanna hesitated. She didn't want to lie to one of her dearest friends. But she also didn't want to cause alarm.

Deanna glanced around to ensure they were out of earshot. Then she leaned in close.

"Something is wrong," Deanna said. "This delay—"

Her brow furrowed. Her dark eyes were clouded with worry.

"Something's happened," she said.

By 15:00 hours, the away team was ninety minutes overdue. Questions were starting to circulate.

"Why can't we just fly in close and beam them aboard?" Deanna asked.

Geordi shook his head.

"I am sorry, Counsellor. That is not an option," Data said.

"There's nowhere to land close," Geordi explained.

"And in order to beam them aboard, we would have to drop the cloak," Miles added.

In the time since their last message to the away team, they had clocked seven ships in the vicinity. There was still no way to tell if these ships were rerouting to avoid a natural occurrence or if they were scanning the area.

"We can't risk it," Geordi said.

A handful of life signs walking along the surface was far less likely to draw attention than a ship. Even if they were to cloak again immediately, a D'deridex class cruiser could easily find their signature and instigate a trace.

"Our best bet is to lie low. Stay here, powered down," Geordi said.

Beverly snapped her fingers as she was struck by an idea.

"What about the emergency channels?" she asked.

Geordi shook his head.

"We can't risk direct radio communication—"

"No, no," Beverly said, waving her hands. "Emergency channels. Romulan emergency channels."

Miles's eyebrows shot up. Geordi shrugged.

"An Empire this big? Surely, they have to have some sort of news or informational radio transmissions for shipping and transport," Beverly said.

Data was the first to catch on.

"We would not need to broadcast our own location or message, but we could intercept other messages," Data said.

Thus far they had avoided such attempts as they had no way to access the channels used by the Romulan Fleet. They were well guarded against unauthorised access.

But a general information channel wasn't likely to have the same protections.

"Geordi," Data said.

"On it," Geordi replied as he stepped up to the communications array.

"It's going to take too long to interface our universal translator with this system," Miles advised.

Data nodded in agreement.

"That will not be a problem," Data replied.

He was confident in his ability to translate the Romulan language.

Geordi activated the communications array. The first several channels he tried were nothing but static.

"This may take some time," he said.

Lieutenant Hawk leaned heavily against the armrest of the Command Chair, resting his head against his fist.

It had been more than two hours and they had yet to locate Captain Picard.

Short of tearing into storage closets, they were at a loss.

Hawk briefly considered it was possible that the entity known as Q had something to do with the Captain's disappearance. But they had detected no energy pattern that usually precipitated the arrival of Q.

"Sir, we're receiving a long-range subspace transmission on an emergency frequency," Ensign Lawson announced. "It's from Starfleet Command."

"Don't open a channel," Hawk said quickly.

He leapt up from the Command Chair and made his way up the ramp to the back of the Bridge.

"Is there a read out?" Hawk inquired.

Lawson nodded.

Lieutenant Hawk's face darkened as he read the contents of the message.

"We need to find Captain Picard. Now," Hawk said.

Sean Hawk had never been one to shy away from duty. But this now so far out of his league that he didn't know what to think.

He was loyal to Captain Picard.

And that was why Lieutenant Hawk quickly denoted the message to memory before wiping it from the system.

He couldn't risk any of the other crew seeing it.

"Sir, I may have a lead on the Captain's whereabouts," Lieutenant Platt advised.

Hawk was open to any theory.

"The ship has a number of digital checkpoints that log movement. I asked Security to pull the logs," Platt explained.

It was an arduous process to sort through the thousands of patterns tracked at various points on the ship. Usually, such a task was reserved for the most serious of offences.

"Captain Picard's communicator was last logged entering the Brig late this morning," Platt advised.

He turned in his seat. His face darkened.

"And then it just… disappeared," Platt said.

It didn't make sense.

Captain Picard wasn't in the Brig. There were currently no prisoners and his life sign didn't register as present.

"Well, it's something," Hawk said as he clapped Platt on the shoulder.

It wasn't the lead he was hoping for, but Hawk would take what he could get.

"There's more, sir," Platt said.

Lieutenant Hawk perked up.

Now, that's what I'm talking about. He mused.

There were unusual power consumption levels emanating from one of the cells.

"I asked Engineering to take a look. They dismissed it. They said it's a project Mr Data was working on. Some experiment," Platt explained.

"I've never seen anything like it," Lieutenant Platt said as he ran his tricorder over the edge.

"No life signs," Lieutenant Commander Keller said.

She was one of the shift leaders in Engineering. In the wake of the team's departure, Keller had been left in charge.

Hawk had summoned her to investigate the matter in the Brig. During their search of the area, they'd found the Ensign on duty stuffed in a closet – alive, but he'd taken a heavy blow.

Keller shook her head in surprise as she studied the field.

There were no life signs, no sound. It didn't even allow visible light to pass through.

"This isn't just a forcefield. It's blocking sensors as well," Keller said.

That in and of itself wasn't entirely unusual. Engineering used fields similar to this for a variety of experiments.

What was strange was the strength.

And the location.

"How soon can you deactivate it?" Hawk asked.

Keller blanched.

"I can't… I won't," she said in response.

"I need to get in there," Hawk said, pointing at the shield.

Keller put her hand up and shook her head. On instinct, she took a step back.

"This is logged as a classified experiment. The attending Engineer is Mr Data," Keller said. "I'm not about to ruin whatever he's working on without his authorisation."

She didn't want to defy Mr Hawk. But she had a great respect for Lieutenant Commander Data and knew how sensitive his experiments could be.

"This is a matter of security," Hawk said.

Keller disagreed.

"There is no safety concern with this experiment as long as this shield is in place," Keller said.

She explained that she could detect no radiation or harmful material being exuded.

"But there could be if I were to deactivate this shield. For all we know, it's keeping back an energy pulse or an unstable element," Keller warned.

Keller implored Hawk to listen to reason.

"Whatever it is, Data didn't want to take any chances. This is rigged to three alternative power sources to ensure a backup in the event of a primary power failure," Keller said.

Hawk sighed.

"Your objections are noted," Hawk said. "I need you to take this down or I will find an Engineer that will."

Keller wouldn't budge.

"You're relieved of duty, Commander," Hawk said.

Keller scoffed. She didn't mean to be rude, but she felt like Lieutenant Hawk was ignoring her grave concerns.

"I outrank you," Keller said.

"At the moment, I'm in command of the ship. And right now, Captain Picard could be behind this shield. Trapped. Possibly incapacitated," Hawk explained.

He paused to take a breath.

"Now are you going to help me, or not?" Hawk asked.

Jean-Luc hissed as Doctor Selar administered a hypospray.

"If you would allow me to—"

"I'm fine," Picard barked.

It was embarrassing enough that Proventus had gotten the better of him. Being found bound and gagged on the floor of his own Brig only added to the humiliation.

Jean-Luc had outright refused Doctor Selar's recommendation that he remain in Sickbay for a full once over.

He marched down the corridor to the lift. He needed to get back on the Bridge. Lieutenant Hawk and Doctor Selar were both half a step behind him.

"Sir, I need to speak with you in your Ready Room," Hawk said.

"Captain, I implore you to allow me to examine your head wound," Doctor Selar said.

Picard grumbled in response as he barked for the lift.

"Thank you, but there is an emergency that demands my attention, Doctor," Picard answered.

"And you will do no one any good if you collapse on your way to the Bridge," Selar threw back with her signature dry wit.

Hawk was desperate to get the Captain's attention.

"Sir, about the matter—"

"There is a more pressing concern at the moment," Picard said, cutting him off.

Hawk reminded himself the Captain had been out of the loop for a few hours.

"Sir, we have the intruder. That is not an issue," Hawk said.

For the first time since his rescue, Jean-Luc paused long enough to listen.

"You've apprehended him?" Picard asked.

He was impressed.

"In a manner of speaking. Mr Crusher uh… well, he's not going anywhere at the moment," Hawk said.

Hawk's expression shifted as if there was something he desperately needed to say.

"You may speak freely in front of Doctor Selar," Picard said.

"Starfleet Command sent a message," Hawk informed him.

Jean-Luc quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, it seems a lot's happened in my absence," Picard said.

Jean-Luc sat back at his desk and pressed play on the recording.

Data and Geordi had rigged a method to trap incoming messages for later viewing without revealing their position.

It was a bone chilling message sent by Admiral Aaron on behalf of Starfleet Command.

"You are harbouring fugitives of the Romulan Star Empire," Aaron announced.

Picard could hear the anger in his voice.

"This is now a diplomatic incident!" Aaron went on.

That accusation confirmed Picard's worst fears. He thought it highly unlikely the Romulans even knew of the survivors considering they were left for dead.

Picard was left to conclude that his message had been intercepted.

A dark thought crossed his mind.

Or we have a leak.

"You will rendezvous with the USS Syracuse at these coordinates where you will surrender your command and submit yourself for inquiry," Aaron ordered.

The message ended with an appeal to resolve the situation amicably before it escalated into a war – along with a twenty-four hour deadline to comply.

Picard sat back in his chair and sighed.

"What are your orders, sir?" Hawk inquired.

"For the time being, we're going to ignore it," Picard answered.

He wasn't about to fly more than a thousand people to their deaths. For all he knew, Starfleet would have an armada waiting to blow them out of the water.

"Even at the risk of escalation? If the Romulans—"

"The Romulans are not interested in recovering fugitives. If the Empire thought that were the case, they wouldn't instigate formal diplomatic relations to 'amicably' resolve the matter," Picard said.

He leaned forward and waved his arm.

"They'd blow past the Neutral Zone with a contingent of ships and blow one of our colonies out of the water," Picard said.

Jean-Luc looked to Doctor Selar for her opinion.

"Quite right," she agreed.

"We'll worry about Admiral Aaron once our mission is complete," Picard said.

"And until then?" Hawk asked.

Jean-Luc rose from his chair and straightened his collar.

"I believe it's time I have a chat with our intruder," Picard announced.

Lieutenant Hawk had attempted to make contact with Proventus several times.

Proventus had ignored all of his overtures.

After dismissing Doctor Selar and Lieutenant Hawk, Captain Picard opened a channel to the shuttle.

"Senator, I know you can hear me," Jean-Luc began.

Proventus was seated at the helm of the shuttle. He had his feet thrown up on the dash. His head was resting low, buried below the hand on his forehead.

He muttered under his breath.

"There is nowhere for you to go. Surrender yourself to my Security team and you will be returned to the Brig," Picard said.

There was a small pause.

"I recognise you are not accustomed to being detained. I apologise for the circumstances. But I will ensure that you are provided with access to entertainment. Literature. Music," Picard started to rattle off.

Proventus snapped up. He slammed his fist down on the console to activate the communications array.

"And how much longer will I have to suffer your incessant, apologetic rambling?" Proventus snapped.

Jean-Luc said nothing. Now that he had Proventus talking, he didn't want to cut him off.

"Captain, I could care less about your entertainment," Proventus said. "I have no desire to listen to subversive, Federation propaganda as I await death."

"I am not going to kill you," Picard promised. "You are safe on my ship. But surely, you can understand why your actions have required me to order your detainment."

Proventus chuckled.

"Oh, I don't expect you to kill me, Captain. You don't have the stomach for it," Proventus replied. "You're not a man of war, Captain. You don't have the nerve to do what it takes."

His words struck an uncomfortable chord with Picard – particularly since he felt he had already thrown ethics to the wind in order to protect the timeline.

"You Starfleet Captains are all alike. You may hide it from your crew with that smug sense of authority. You may even have convinced yourself that your moral superiority is a strength," Proventus said.

His voice was dripping with disdain.

"But you're just as weak as the rest of them."

Jean-Luc clenched his jaw.

"I have to wonder how this could be the same Jean-Luc Picard?" Proventus asked.

Picard was grateful the communication was audio only so that Proventus could not see him in that moment.

"When the time comes, when that temporal distortion opens in space, I don't think you'll have it in you to send that ship back," Proventus went on.

He was in his element now. This was no different than the hundreds of Senators he'd talked down over the course of his long career, Romulans he'd cut down with nothing more than words.

"I suppose I should be grateful. Here I was trying to convince that cunt not to leave the Enterprise-C. I think you'll ensure she never leaves this Enterprise," Proventus said.

Picard closed his eyes and took a breath to compose himself.

Narendra would still happen.

Morak's conquest of that highly sought strategic location would go according to plan..

"He'll have his moment of triumph," Proventus acknowledged.

Proventus could live with that.

Morak would probably be awarded a commendation. The Klingons would break their alliance with the Romulans – but it wouldn't drive them into the arms of the Federation.

There would be no ceasefire and no alliance.

"And he will not get his Astradis. There will be no heir. His Black Eagles will be a footnote in the annals of Romulan history," Proventus said.

He smirked.

"You will remain at war with the Klingons. That war will drag on for decades," Proventus went on. "And my people will avoid another direct conflict. My Empire will have time to thrive and grow and become the superior power."

Picard wanted to scream.

"It doesn't have to be like this. Any of this," Picard insisted.

He shot up out of his seat and began to pace in front of Livingston's tank.

"Senator, in spite of our shaky start, I can tell you are only trying to—"

"Do not lecture me, Picard," Proventus said, cutting him off.

Jean-Luc wanted to believe that Proventus was a rational man, that they could find common ground.

"You are a man of peace," Picard said.

"I'm not a man of peace, Picard. I'm a man of triumph," Proventus shot back. "And I know when to fight and I know when to bide my time."

Proventus's only goal in stopping Morak's war was because he knew the Empire couldn't sustain another prolonged conflict.

Suddenly, Jean-Luc's combadge pinged with an urgent message from the Bridge.

After taking control of the shuttle, Proventus had been clever enough to scramble the shield frequency. It meant they couldn't bring it down nor beam him back to the Brig.

"Sir, the shuttle just activated its blast door," Hawk reported.

Jean-Luc sighed, exasperated.

Picard surmised Proventus was going to attempt to blast his way through the shuttlebay door.

"Senator, I am prepared to fire on any shuttle attempting to leave this ship," Picard warned.

Proventus shook his head with amusement as he got up from the helm.

"You aren't going to stop me from leaving this ship," he declared.

Picard tapped his communicator to hail the Bridge – a message he wanted Proventus to hear.

"Bridge, lock on to the shuttle. Prepare to fire on my mark," Picard said. "If you make any attempt to flee this ship — you will be destroyed."

Proventus ripped into the access panel at the back of the shuttle. He checked four separate compartments before he located an emergency toolkit.

In no time at all, he managed to pop off the safety barrier to the coolant system.

"You think in such limited terms, Captain. Even now, your humanity limits your imagination," Proventus said.

Proventus bit down, holding the sonic driver in his teeth, as he felt around for the right piping.

"I will not—"

The elder Senator huffed as he tugged at the tube.

"Be a slave—"

He shouted as he tightened his grip to pull harder.

"To your Federation—"

"Senator, I have no intention of making you one," Picard assured him.

Proventus paused long enough to roll up his sleeve.

"And can you guarantee my freedom once you've turned me over to your people?" Proventus scoffed.

He had no doubt what fate would be waiting for him once he was in the clutches of the Federation. He would be a spectacle. And after that, they'd lock him away somewhere, tapping him for information.

He would be held like a rat in a cage, waiting for death.

With certainty and precision, he reached back in through the panel.

"I would rather spend a lifetime in the mines of Remus than spend one more minute as a prisoner of your Federation," Proventus spat as he yanked out the coolant pipe.

The channel went dead.

"Senator?" Picard prompted.

There was no response.

"Senator?" he tried again.

Jean—Luc didn't wait. He rushed out of his Ready Room and onto the Bridge.

"What's going on down there?" Picard demanded.

Ensign Lawson shrugged and shook her head.

"I'm not longer detecting any life signs," she reported.

Lieutenant Hawk was standing next to her at the Tactical console. He hadn't been able to sit ever since returning to the Bridge.

"Sensors show coolant pressure has dropped inside the shuttle," Hawk explained.

Jean-Luc's face soured.

Plasma coolant was a highly volatile substance. It was kept well protected because it ate through organic material.

It was considered a particularly nasty way to go.

Proventus was certainly a man of his word.

By any means necessary.

"Very well. Wait until it's safe, then vent the area. Send a cleanup team in to complete the repair," Picard said.

He returned to his Ready Room and collapsed on the sofa, burying his head in his hands.

No, Jean-Luc knew he didn't have the stomach for any of this.

It's not a weakness. He told himself.

Proventus was right about one thing though. Jean-Luc's desire to find a diplomatic end would spell disaster.

It was why Admiral Aaron and the brass at the compromised Starfleet Command were trying to appeal to his sense of peace.

Between the lines was the veiled threat.

Picard would certainly be finished. His senior officers, too.

It was like every life on the ship was being held hostage by a threat.

Picard clenched his fists. Steeling his resolve, he got up from his sofa and straightened his uniform.

When he stepped back onto the Bridge, he was acting the part of Captain. He did everything to project confidence.

"Now then, Mr Hawk. Let's discuss this message from Starfleet," Picard said.

Back on the stolen ship, Data and the team were growing increasingly eager to find the right channel.

"Maybe they don't have one?" Miles pondered.

"They must have some sort of general broadcast," Beverly replied.

The crew waited as Geordi continued to work through the different frequencies.

"Wait!" Data ordered.

Geordi froze.

"Go back to the last channel," Data said as he rose from his seat.

He politely requested Geordi step aside as Data readjusted the communications array to boost the signal. It was choppy at best – but that seemed to please Data.

He had a strange look in his eye. Deanna could sense he was excited.

"Hraentestemp… locan freimo… esta—"

Data listened to the broadcast as it cut in and out.

"What does it mean?" Deanna asked.

Data turned back to the rest of the team. He wasn't exactly smiling, but it was hard to contain his enthusiasm.

"It means we are leaving," Data said.

"Would you sit down?" Riker asked.

Tasha was the one pacing now.

"I'm not anxious," she replied quickly. "I just want to keep moving."

In truth, Tasha was tired, cranky, and hungry.

Again.

She'd also had to pee for the last forty-five minutes. Tasha knew enough to recognise there was no water closet in sight.

A bunch of men living in a cave had never had need for one.

Tasha wasn't about to strip off her uniform and squat behind a rock. As functional as their uniforms were, it wasn't terribly convenient.

She wasn't that desperate.

Yet.

Tasha wrung hands before planting them on her hips. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The sound of the waterfall wasn't doing much to help.

Tasha cursed herself for drinking two jumbo Raktajino's earlier in the day.

Though Tasha knew if she hadn't, she'd been even more fatigued. It was barely 16:00 hours and she was ready for a nap.

Tasha surmised all this recent fatigue was due to stress.

Yet, no matter how many hours she put in at the fitness centre or Data's best backrubs, Tasha couldn't find a way to relax.

This damn conspiracy. Tasha muttered to herself.

She massaged her temples.

Tasha needed this mission to go well. She needed this whole business with the Romulans to be over.

After that, it would be shore leave with Data. They had so much accumulated between them, a wicked thought crossed Tasha's mind.

They could take a whole month on Føroyar.

Then I'm going to sleep for six months. She mused.

Without warning, the radio clicked.

Riker was on his feet.

"What is it?" he asked.

The message had been just as short as the last one and he feared the worst – particularly since Tasha's posture remained tense.

"Safe," Tasha announced.

Riker and Worf shared a glance.

"Right. Let's get moving," Riker ordered.

By the time she slipped onto the Bridge, Tasha was relieved the pressure on bladder was gone.

She exchanged a short nod with Data before taking up her post at Tactical.

"Course laid in for Lantera, sir," Lieutenant Jae announced.

They were only a few hours from the Iconian outpost. It wasn't the original route they'd planned. Miles's theory had been proven right by Data's translation.

The ships they detected had rerouted to avoid a plasma storm in the area.

It meant the team would need an alternative route too.

"This is going to add about an hour to our course," Verax advised as he studied the new flight plan.

"That's good," Geordi said.

He was trying to stay upbeat. The news of the missing isolinear chips had been quite a blow to the crew.

"We can use the time to study what we do have," Geordi said as he clasped his hands together.

"Data, Chief, I want you both with Geordi on this," Riker ordered.

Lieutenant Jae fired up the sublight engines to take the ship up into orbit.

Richard Castillo watched as the planet Tantalus disappeared from view. The treeline grew smaller and smaller.

He couldn't help but smile.

This time he was leaving for good.

Data was the first to spy Lantera when they dropped out of warp.

He had been in the middle of explaining Romulan shield fluctuations when he suddenly stopped speaking.

"Geordi," he breathed.

Geordi tugged on Miles's sleeve.

"Chief," he said, echoing Data's astonishment.

"Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph," Miles remarked as he got his first look at the ancient war outpost.

It was bigger than any of them expected.

Just like the partially destroyed installation they found months earlier, this outpost was an architectural marvel.

The ruins of an ancient spacedock were present, bookended by the same style of massive pillars they had seen at the last outpost.

The main structure of the outpost was domed. Great arching view windows lined the structure. At the top of the dome sat a tall obelisk with an eagle.

Data could see where the Romulans had borrowed the same style, replicating the echo of Iconian magnificence in the halls of the Senate Forum and the Imperial city architecture.

He could also understand why.

Such designs were a testament to an Empire that could afford the expense and time to build a structure that was both functional and symbolic.

Data imagined such a sight would leave ancient starfarers in awe – particularly if one encountered a whole line of these outposts along the edge of Iconian space.

"All stop," Riker ordered as they approached.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Richard asked.

"It's something," Tasha replied.

In truth, the whole thing gave her the creeps.

"There's no functional spacedock left," Ghost explained.

They would have to beam the team aboard.

Castillo directed their attention to the layout on the screen of the science terminal.

"There are protected pockets here, here, and here," he shared as he highlighted the areas on the map. "We can safely beam into these places. Life support is still functioning."

Geordi was amazed.

"After all this time," he said.

"I'd like to get a look at their setup," Miles quipped as he nudged Geordi.

"You and me both, Chief," Geordi replied.

Riker wasn't quite as jovial as he rose from the big chair.

"Let's remember what we're for. We get in, we get the weapon online, and we get the hell out of dodge before anyone realises we were here," Riker said.

Worf appeared and cleared his throat.

"Sir, the first team is ready," he reported.

Riker nodded to Lieutenant Henly at the transporter controls.

"It's time," he said.

One level down, Tasha clutched her phaser rifle as the familiar shimmering sound of dematerialisation filled the chamber.

Here we go.

There was no telling what awaited them on Lantera.

The Romulans had conducted extensive study of the facility. And though Castillo's team had monitored it – they had lost all the Romulan security codes for the equipment the Romulans had left in place.

That included power systems, security measures, and life support.

At Tasha's insistence, Riker had reluctantly agreed to keep the first deployment small.

Tasha beamed aboard along with Lieutenants Wu and Solis from Security. They had brought along one volunteer from Engineering.

Both Data and Geordi had fought for that spot.

Tasha had quietly told Data that he was too valuable to risk losing if anything went wrong. When he'd opened his mouth to protest, Tasha had cut him off with a sharp look.

She didn't want anyone on the team thinking they were expendable.

No one was.

But Tasha firmly believed (and Riker agreed) Data was their best hope to figure this out.

Tasha and the first team rematerialised inside a small, domed room in the central part of the facility. She clicked on her torch and scanned the area.

"Life support seems stable," Lieutenant Solis reported.

The life support itself was limited. Some areas weren't stable. Tasha's team had brought a temporary portable environmental generator to help supplement the area until the Engineering team could set up their own system independent of the Iconian one.

They didn't want to risk overtaxing the ancient power cell like the Romulans had.

The room they beamed into was a connecting junction. It branched off in three directions. All three were sealed shut.

Based on the schematic, two of these pathways led to sections that had suffered serious damage and exposure to space.

"This should be the one that leads to the Operations Centre," Lieutenant Wu said, pointing at the third.

"Wait," Tasha said, catching Wu before she could open the panel.

Something had caught her eye.

At the very bottom of the door was a small, blinking light atop a little box. Tasha followed the wire coming out of it. The whole door was lined.

"Yar to Bridge," Tasha said, tapping her communicator.

"How's the water?" Riker teased.

"Water's fine, sir. But the Romulans have left a housewarming gift. There's some sort of device attached to the door," Tasha reported.

Verax rushed over to Commander Riker's position and wordlessly requested permission to address the group.

Riker gestured, indicating he should speak.

"Is it a small device? No visible access panel?" Verax inquired.

There was a brief pause.

"Yes. Looks like it. There's a blinking light. It looks to be rigged to the door," Tasha answered.

She shared that there was wire running the whole perimeter of the frame.

A dark look passed between the survivors. Castillo closed his eyes and ran a hand back through his greying curls.

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to start with it," he remarked.

"Start with what?" Data inquired.

"It's a security lock," Arandev informed them.

"A rather nasty one," Ghost chimed in.

Tasha knelt down next to the device to study it further. Lieutenant Wu kept the light on her phaser rifle at just the right angle while Solis monitored the situation with her tricorder.

Technically, there was no visible access panel. But Tasha could see there was a seam along the edge. It only made sense as somehow this device had to have been assembled.

She reached into her uniform for her switchblade.

"Bridge, I think I may be able to open it up," Tasha said.

Sooner or later one of the Engineers would beam over and Tasha wanted to provide them with as much information as possible.

Geordi was prepping to beam over with his toolkit. The team on the Bridge listened intently as Verax explained how the device worked.

"Bridge, I think I may be able to open it up," Tasha's voice rang out.

Data's hand slammed down on his combadge so quickly that Riker could have sworn Data would have broken his collarbone had he been human.

"Tasha, if you are attempting to open the device with a crude instrument—"

Tasha immediately froze.

"Be advised that you will trigger an automated detonation," Data warned.

There was a brief pause.

"We're just going to sit tight," Tasha replied a moment later.

Tasha, Lieutenant Wu, and Lieutenant Solis were all sitting on the floor of the room. They were doing their best to stay out of the way.

"At least being stuck on the Enterprise we had holodecks," Solis teased.

Tasha laughed.

"And Ten Forward," Wu added.

"Ugh, I could sure go for a Raktajino right about now," Tasha said with a grin.

"You and me both," Geordi commented.

Geordi was hunched near the door as he and Verax poured over the device.

It had been more than an hour since they'd arrived at Lantera. So far, all they'd managed to see of the ancient outpost was one lousy junction.

"So, they like… worship these Iconians, right?" Solis asked.

Verax kept his mouth shut.

Tasha fought the urge to visibly bristle.

"I don't think we can really make that assumption," she said.

She had her own difficulties in reconciling the faith of her homeworld against all she had seen and done during her time in Starfleet.

Data was the only person Tasha had ever truly opened up to on that matter.

"I just mean that it's gonna be a huge blow if this works. Being destroyed by your own gods," Solis went on. "Kind of like a message, eh?"

She grinned.

"Hard to push a war when your gods won't endorse it," she said.

Tasha could understand the point Lieutenant Solis was trying to make – even if it didn't quite sit right with her.

In Tasha's experience, the humans in Starfleet liked to say they understood and respected all the different cultures they encountered.

They also had a bad habit of cracking jokes about Bajoran fasting and Orion ceremonial incense.

Tasha often found herself caught in the middle because most humans assumed she was Terran and felt safe enough to say such things in her presence.

"We will first need to deactivate the relay before we bypass the secondary trigger," Verax said.

"Right," Geordi agreed.

He reached for his sonic driver while Verax connected the diagnostic tool.

"Hopefully, this will be the end of it," Solis said.

That was a sentiment Tasha could agree with.

"You think they'd learn worshipping a civilisation that disappeared," Solis went on.

She chuckled and nudged Lieutenant Wu.

"Maybe they'll disappear like their gods," Solis teased.

"That's enough, Lieutenant," Tasha said.

Verax sat up on his knees and looked back at them. He studied Lieutenant Solis for a moment. His expression was not one of anger, but rather curiosity.

"Sorry," she said quickly.

"No. You are not," Verax replied without hesitation.

Solis opened her mouth to protest, but Tasha cut her off.

"Mr Verax, you have my complete and most sincere apologies. Lieutenant Solis's comments were out of line and—"

Verax lifted his hand to stop her.

"There is no harm done. I did not watch the Tal Shair torture and murder my wife and children to be ruffled by someone who was likely raised to fear me," Verax said as he eyed the young Lieutenant.

Solis fell silent.

"Please, I do not hold it against you. You are not entirely responsible for the generations of animosity between our peoples," he acknowledged. "You were probably taught that Romulans would kill you and everyone you loved without ever showing ourselves."

It was a story most Terran children knew well.

"You are right about one thing. If our mission is successful, you will stop a war," Verax said.

He paused.

"Today," he added.

Tasha's throat went tight. A chill ran down her spine.

"And in doing so all you will do is reinforce the belief that the reason most of my people are starving and suffering is because of your Federation," Verax explained.

His comment hung in the air. Even Geordi stopped working.

"For every Uhlan we kill, the Empire will recruit three more," Verax went on.

The one resource the Romulans weren't lacking was people.

"Those Uhlans – many of them children – have families. And they will talk of their fallen brothers and sisters. Their dead children. Ekloire will become a rallying cry for the next generation of anti-Federation violence," Verax said.

His expression softened.

"We must do this. We must destroy that starbase. But it will not prevent conflict. And it will not bring about peace. It will only cripple the Empire long enough to delay a war," Verax warned.

Tasha knew he was right.

"And Divines help you against whoever comes next," Verax said.

Ekloire Starbase

Sela took up a defensive stance.

"Again," she demanded.

A large, muscular Uhlan stood across the room from Sela. He may have had more than three stone on her, but he was trembling and uncertain.

"Again," Sela ordered.

The Uhlan grunted and nodded before charging at her with his Lirto. It was a staff weapon similar to the Vulcan Lirpa (not any good Romulan would ever dare admit it).

They clashed, the reinforced hardwood snapping as their Lirto met. It took very little effort for Sela to best him.

She pushed him back with relative ease. Sela swung the weapon overhead to build momentum. She passed it easily from hand to hand around her body with the sort of grace and mastery that came from years of dedicated training.

The Uhlan hissed in pain as the sharpened blade tore through his sleeve and into his bicep.

The Uhlan rolled out of the way. But his effort to repel her was only half-hearted at best.

Sela groaned, pacing as she cracked her neck.

"He's afraid of you," Korenus teased.

He was lounging in the corner. He took a sip of wine before turning back to peruse a book with lazy enthusiasm.

"Get up," Sela barked at the Uhlan.

He bowed and scrambled to his feet.

She was about charge again when her shoulders slumped.

This Uhlan was scared. He was shaking in his oversized boots. His massive frame looked comically out of place as he trembled at the thought of making a mistake.

"Go," Sela said in defeat, resigned that she would find no relief in her training.

The Uhlan stood motionless. He was entirely unsure if he should bow or thank her or simply scurry away.

"Go," Sela barked.

She roared and flung her weapon at the wall, throwing it hard enough for the blade to lodge in the padding there.

Korenus followed her line of sight as Sela watched the Uhlan sulk off to the showers alone. They had all heard the rumours, the whispers that General Morak's daughter had a penchant for picking the brawny, quiet ones for certain special tasks.

Sometimes it was training.

Other times there was a job needed doing.

Most of the time these Uhlans came back.

Sometimes they did not.

But each and every one of them had served a purpose – and it usually came with a good meal and a chance to enjoy the lap of luxury for a little while.

Sela couldn't grow attached to other people. She could never fall in love. Instead, she clung to these liaisons to drive away the loneliness for a few hours.

Sela felt a pang of longing as she watched this Uhlan stalk off. He was another big, stupid northerner with rippling biceps and sense enough not to talk back.

And as she imagined what it would feel like to lather those shoulders, take her fill, and then cast him aside before she could feel anything, Sela found herself filled with regret.

For she had made her father a promise.

Sela had agreed to abstain from such pursuits provided she was allowed to keep her new guards in her service and do with them as she pleased.

It felt terribly unfair.

Sela was pulled from her thoughts by the tongue on her skin. Korenus licked the perspiration off her body, trailing his tongue across her collarbone and up the side of her neck.

"You're a pig," Sela said, pushing him away.

Korenus pulled her flush against his body, snaking his arms around Sela.

"You like it," he growled against her ear.

Sela shivered as he whispered her name.

He released her when she protested. Sela whipped around, fuming at this public display of affection.

"Sela?" he tried.

She glared.

"My darling—"

"I am not your anything," she roared, slapping him across the face.

Korenus said nothing.

"You will address me as 'my lady' or 'commander' when we are in public," Sela warned.

"And when we are alone?" Korenus whispered.

Sela had asked him, hell, she had begged him to call her Sela when they were alone.

"When we are alone in my quarters you will call me by my name. Only because I choose to separate my duty from my… stress relief," she settled on.

It was a lie and they both knew it. Merul and Liran were not permitted to call her Sela.

But Sela felt it was necessary to establish that boundary. If she didn't, she was worried she would lose herself to this man.

Following Korenus's 'gift' of an evening alone, Sela had repaid him in kind with a warning to never take such liberties again.

She'd invited Merul and Liran to her bed while ordering Korenus to sit in the corner.

You should be grateful I have permitted you the privilege of watching. Sela had warned.

Korenus had sat in the corner like a good boy and taken heart in the fact Sela was the one watching him.

Desperate to put some distance between them, Sela strolled over to the edge of the room. There was a great window that spanned the length of the wall and overlooked the central hub far below.

Sela pressed a cool towel to the back of her neck. She visibly relaxed as she watched the activity below.

Duras was leaving.

"You don't care for him," Korenus remarked.

"He's a Klingon and a brute," Sela said.

She feigned offence at the very idea of a union with a Klingon out of a sense of Romulan superiority. In truth, Sela was frightened of Duras.

She was terrified of what he might do.

He was so like her father.

The night before, Ekloire Starbase had entertained the final round of guests in preparation for the offensive against the Federation.

Duras had been in attendance at her father's invitation. After dinner, Morak and Duras had retired to his private study to puff on Orion Snakeleaf and sip fine, imported brandy.

They spent the night whoring. To Sela's great displeasure, Duras enjoyed the same games as her father. And he took pleasure in the torment of others.

Sela was grateful to take her leave immediately following the final course.

But for the duration of the meal, Sela had been forced to play her part.

The gracious hostess.

The dutiful heir.

Steadfast in her duty. Penitent in her studies.

And in a great contradiction she was somehow both enticing enough to lure Duras, to tease the illusion that she would be a satisfying wife and yet virginal (as all great ladies were during marriage negotiations).

All of which was a show to demonstrate to Duras that Sela could so easily slip into the role of running his great house.

As much as Sela hated this play acting, she was grateful her father had insisted on only dangling her in front of Duras.

When Morak had first revisited the idea of wedding his heir to Duras to secure the alliance (as it always seemed to come back to that following whatever latest betrothal fell through from politicking or death), Morak had taken Sela for a long walk around the grounds of their great estate.

He does not touch you. You will show him nothing.

Morak's voice had been cold.

Nothing until we have a contract.

Sela wasn't complaining. She knew sooner or later she would have no choice. Her father may have called it a marriage contract, but Sela knew the truth.

Her father would sell her to Duras like a broodmare.

After all, he'd done it before.

"Then you do not wish to marry him?" Korenus pressed.

Sela snorted.

"You of all people should know we don't marry for love," Sela said.

She had done it again, using 'we' in the presence of Korenus like they were peers in the same class, utterly ignoring the fact he had been disgraced and stripped of his titles.

Sela had even gone so far as to bring Korenus to final meal the night before. He had accompanied her under the guise that he was there to test her food (even though they both knew it had been tested twice already).

In truth, she had wanted his company. She wanted someone there to give her the strength to face Duras again.

"As my father is so fond of reminding me – my womb belongs to the Empire," Sela said with a trace of bitterness.

"You do not wish for someone that burns for you?" Korenus said.

In spite of the heat, Sela felt a chill.

"Someone that burns to be with you?" Korenus went on as he closed the distance between them.

Sela thought he might kiss her then and there, consequences be damned. And she was excited by it.

But at the last possible moment, Korenus dropped to his knees.

"My lady," he said with a deep bow.

Sela cancelled her afternoon troop inspection – sending Merul and Liran in her place, making an excuse that it was a chance to give them extra some responsibility.

"I don't like Duras. He frightens me," Sela said, spilling her secret to Korenus as if he was somehow both lover and confessor.

She hissed as he nipped at the pulse point of her neck, drawing out a green bruise.

"I won't marry him," Sela declared.

Morak had said it would only be a matter of weeks before the finalised the agreement. It would all be settled once they completed the invasion of the Federation.

"I don't want to marry anybody," Sela said aloud for the first time. "I don't want children. I don't want any of it."

She clung to Korenus, desperate to chase away her fear of being used.

"I just want my command," Sela said.

"Your father seems quite set," Korenus said before he captured her lips.

When they broke apart, his teeth grazed down over the line of her jaw.

"It wouldn't be the first time he's broken a marriage contract," Sela remarked.

2357 | Romulus

When Commander Jarok had first been dispatched to pluck Sela out of school, she had been worried she would not be able to finish her courses.

She was eager to finish her education at the school on Nida. Sela felt she had a better opportunity of getting into the Imperial War Academy if she continued at school rather than under private tutors.

Being at school also meant Sela didn't have to study under Drusilla's supervision.

Sela had always been dedicated to her studies. She took pride in achieving top marks.

It wasn't just about besting her classmates.

Sela wanted to prove she was more Romulan than the rest of them, that she was Romulan enough.

And she hoped and prayed, spent hours on her knees in the Imperial shrine, and whispered her dedications at night in the hope that her father would recognise this.

For if she could convince her father that she could serve her family and her Empire in her own right then maybe – just maybe – she could avoid being wed to some wealthy, titled Romulan just to secure a political alliance.

Sela didn't want to become the wife of a prominent Senator. She didn't like hosting dignitaries or planning retreats to shine favour on supporters.

She wanted a command of her own, a chance to explore space.

More than anything, Sela feared she would eventually succumb to the same fate as her mother.

So, when was Sela summoned to report to the grounds, her thoughts were of her education and a fear of falling behind in her studies.

Jarok was waiting with one of her father's ships.

"Forgive me for pulling you away, my lady," Jarok said.

He was, perhaps, the only person in the world that understood how important Sela's education was to the girl.

"Has something happened? Where are we going?" Sela demanded.

She wasn't even given time to properly pack.

"Your father has requested you come home," Jarok answered. "Your personal belongings will be sent along later."

It was technically an answer – but hardly an explanation.

Sela did not have a chance to settle.

The minute she hopped onto one of her father's ships, she was escorted to one of the guest lodgings.

It seemed this change in order was not expected as the domestic staff were still working to prepare Sela's rooms.

Sela didn't mind. She unpacked her schoolwork and flopped down in a seat near a window that overlooked the stars.

Morak had swept into the room and ordered the staff to leave them be.

"Put that away," he ordered. "You won't need that anymore."

Sela obediently put down her reading assignment.

"Fenthair? Is something wrong?" Sela asked.

She had been recalled home before – once when her father had gone missing and again when an uprising had threatened to overhaul the Imperial government.

Morak sat down across from his daughter and took her hands into his lap.

"We have a great opportunity, my little eagle," Morak began.

The current Emperor, Sela's cousin, was gravely ill and not expected to recover. He had no heir save for a sister that was considered to be far too malleable to the whims of her husband's social-climbing family.

Whispers in the Senate corridors had grown to a chorus.

The people wanted Morak.

"We must shore up support in the Senate," Morak said.

Technically, the position of Emperor required the consent of the Senate. The Senate had withheld support before and plunged the Romulan Star Empire into a dark period of civil war that had lasted on and off for nearly six decades.

General Morak had been a small boy then, born at the very tail end of that period known as the Great Shadow.

Sela was raised on stories of this period of time. Combined with her own tumultuous childhood and precarious position, she was intimately aware of the importance of strengthening their position.

Security came from power.

"Then you will be Emperor?" Sela pressed.

"Yes," Morak replied with a smug sense of satisfaction.

It was his birthright, the role he was born to fill.

"And you will be married," Morak said, patting the back of her hand.

It was said as if it were a moment of happiness, as if he expected Sela to rejoice at this news.

Sela blinked slowly.

"I—"

She frowned, unable to find the words.

Sela felt as if her whole world had come crashing down around her. She felt empty as she met her father's eyes.

"Do not fret, my little eagle," Morak said. "You will be a great lady."

Sela mumbled something in a low voice that sounded distinctly like 'the Academy."

"I intend to stipulate that your education continue as part of the marriage contract," Morak assured her.

Every member of his family had been educated at the prestigious Imperial War Academy and Morak had no intention of breaking that tradition.

Sela pulled her hands back, clutching them against her in an effort to stop them from shaking. It would do no good to show such weakness in front of her father.

That was just asking for trouble.

Before Sela could process this news, Drusilla burst into the room with her entourage. It took several seconds for Sela to realise that Drusilla was speaking.

"Up you stupid girl," Drusilla said, clapping her hands like Sela was a dog.

Someone hauled Sela to her feet. She stood in stunned silence as they took her measurements. Drusilla circled her, clucking her tongue in disapproval.

"And we'll have to do something about this complexion," she said, her voice dripping with disdain as she eyed Sela's colouration.

It was a dead giveaway of her human ancestry.

Romulans with good breeding had lovely dark features, bronze or olive skin, and (for those in the north) a signature forehead ridge that signified strong Romulan roots.

"Hmm," Drusilla said as she circled Sela.

Drusilla looked back over shoulder at her husband.

For all the animosity between them, they were shockingly united when it came to Sela's education and position.

"I think she should wear her green dress," Drusilla commented.

"It is the colour of their banner," Morak said.

At this, Sela's mind began to churn. She had been educated to memorise all the information about the other great Romulan aristocratic families. Sela had studied generations of pedigree.

For her own safety, Sela had to know how to distinguish between rivals and friends.

The comms system chimed.

"General, course laid in for Sun Gate," the Bridge advised.

"Acknowledged. Let's go," Morak ordered.

Sun Gate.

Sela knew this estate.

Sun Gate was an ancient Romulan estate located at the far end of the southeast peninsula known as the Eagle's Nest. It was home to one of the oldest Romulan families – a house that rivalled Morak's own.

It overlooked the sparkling waters of the southern sea and could not be further from her own family's frozen estate in the north.

It belonged to one of Drusilla's cousins. Old stock. One of the finest families in the Empire.

They had a distant (very distant) claim on the Imperial throne being the descendants of a bastard child of the great Emperor Iconius.

At present, the family was headed by one of the oldest Senators and a primary advisor to the Emperor.

Vebius?

Or was it Venitus?

Sela scrunched up her face as she tried to recall the name.

"Don't make that face," Drusilla snapped.

Sela immediately relaxed her expression.

"I expect you will not embarrass me in front of Vebius," Drusilla warned.

Vebius.

Now Sela could remember. He was a stalwart of the old Imperial ways. He had outlived all of his own children.

His heir, his great-grandson, was named Vorenus. He was a rising officer in the Tal Shiar. Sela had met him several times in passing during formal functions.

He wasn't terrible looking and seemed amiable enough. It was certainly better than some of the options her father had shopped.

"Then I am to marry Vorenus?" Sela thought aloud.

Drusilla cackled with laughter.

"Divines no," Drusilla said. "Vorenus is the most eligible bachelor in the Empire. He'll marry a real Romulan. Not the half-human bastard of a whore."

Panic gripped Sela's heart. She looked to her father for an explanation.

"It is a good match," Morak said, saying nothing of Drusilla's cruel comments.

Vebius.

They were sending her off to wed Vebius.

"But he's… ancient," Sela gasped in horror.

The comment slipped from Sela's mouth before she could stop herself – a rare mistake.

Drusilla gripped Sela's face. Her nails dug into the flesh there.

"And wealthy and powerful. Don't forget it," Drusilla hissed.

Her father's approach was much softer.

"It is a good match, hmm?" Morak repeated.

Sela said nothing. She was far too stunned.

"Where is the dress?" Drusilla demanded. "The green one."

She snapped her fingers for her aide to fetch it.

The aide shrugged.

"It's not here, my lady," the aide said.

Before she could elaborate, Drusilla whipped around on Sela.

"Did you pack nothing?" Drusilla asked.

Sela blanched.

"I-I-I was told to come straight away," Sela protested.

"You—"

Thwack.

"Stupid—"

Thwack.

"Little—"

Sela braced herself for another hit, but Morak intervened. He caught Drusilla's wrist.

"It will do no good if she looks puffy," Morak warned.

Sela sniffled and blinked back tears. Morak brushed them away. It was not done out of concern for her feelings, but rather so they could get on with the business at hand.

"This will have to do," Morak said as he eyed her school uniform.

Drusilla clucked her tongue in disapproval.

"But… but how will I give him an heir? He's—"

She trailed off. It was no secret that Vebius was well past his prime.

Since the earliest days of her education, Sela was raised to understand that it was her duty to provide an heir. She could not fail like Drusilla had.

Sela's precarious position as the half-human legitimised bastard only added to the pressure. If she failed, she could easily be cast aside.

Morak had driven that into his daughter's head.

"By the time I finish school he'll be even older," Sela protested.

"You will be wed first. I will negotiate for you to resume your education in a few years," Morak said.

Sela was scandalised.

She was twelve – shockingly young to wed even among the oldest of the Romulan aristocracy.

Marriage contracts and betrothals were standard practice. Often these negotiations started right away following birth.

But they were always, always fulfilled much later in life after the betrothed had been educated and established.

"Vebius will not wed you for an heir. This is a political alliance," Morak tried to explain.

"I… I don't understand," Sela confessed.

For a child who had spent her entire life being told what an ugly little abomination she was, Sela could fathom no reason for this marriage.

What possible reason could a man like Vebius want with the child?

Morak could see his daughter was deep in thought.

"I don't know what to do," Sela confessed.

Drusilla snorted.

"You don't do anything," Drusilla sneered. "You listen. You report back to your father what you hear."

Sela's brow furrowed.

"But won't he suspect I've been sent to spy on him?" Sela asked.

"Idiot girl," Drusilla snapped. "All you have to do is keep your eyes and ears open. And be a good, obedient little slut like your mother and keep him happy."

Sela gasped.

"It's in your DNA, child," Drusilla said, twisting the knife.

Morak tucked Sela's bangs back behind her ear, flashing her a fond smile.

"We pay good money to keep spies in all the great houses and the halls of the Senate. No one can hide their secrets from us," Morak explained. "We know all their perversions."

There was power in that knowledge. Morak knew who to take gambling, who to bribe with imported wine, and who had a penchant for spilling secrets when occupied by a pretty face.

When word first came of the Emperor's illness, Morak and Drusilla had been forced to think fast. They knew they needed the support of Vebius in order to sway others.

Why pay a fortune for a girl at one of the pleasure houses when you could simply give him your daughter? Drusilla had suggested.

Morak had to concede there was wisdom in that plan.

Vebius didn't like young women. He liked girls.

Procuring a child was expensive and illegal. But if he were to offer Sela's hand in marriage, they could avoid all the risk.

"You'll do whatever makes him happy," Morak instructed. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, fenthair," Sela replied in a faraway voice.

2357 | Sun Gate Estate

Sela had little to say during final meal and ate even less.

It was all she could do not to vomit as her father and Vebius laughed and raised their glasses in a mock toast to the health of the gravely ill Emperor.

She wanted to wretch as the conversation turned to her.

About her.

Never with her.

And when Vebius expressed concern about Sela's human ancestry and the stigma of shame that would come from taking her as his bride, Morak was more than prepared with an answer.

"She is half human. Very obedient," Morak said.

Sela didn't flinch as her father caressed her cheek.

"Her mother was my consort. I can tell you from experience that you will find there are certain advantages to this union," Morak went on.

Vebius didn't bite.

"You will not secure a match with a young, eligible pure-blooded Romulan. Their families will want them to wed young men that can give them heirs," Morak pointed out.

Vebius chuckled and took a swig of his drink.

"I would be more than happy to take an old, rich wife. Some widow with a title and estate to match my own," Vebius countered.

Morak smirked.

"We both know your… habit is expensive," Morak said.

The Senator's recreational pursuits cost a fortune. If he were a common man, he would have been imprisoned and sent to the mines on Remus for his crimes.

There had always been two systems of law in the Romulan Empire.

Morak could tell he had Vebius on the hook.

"Now why would you continue to pay a fortune to have these pleasure houses supply you with young girls? Why would you put yourself at risk of exposure?" Morak pressed.

Vebius shifted in his chair.

"Is this a threat?" he demanded.

"No, no, no," Morak assured him with a dismissive wave.

Morak grinned.

"This is an offer. A mutually beneficial offer," Morak explained.

Morak paused just long enough to take a leisurely sip of his wine. Sela sat unmoving next to her father as she listened to him casually discuss her future as if he were merely selling a piece of real estate.

"You could have my daughter. Take her as your wife and save yourself a considerable sum," Morak went on.

There would be no need to pay off anyone or dispose of a girl when she got too old for Vebius's taste.

"You will have one dedicated girl to make you very happy and when you tire of her as she ages, she will resume her education," Morak said.

The older man's eyes narrowed as he studied Sela.

"I know, she is half-human," Morak acknowledged as if he were sizing up damage to a ship. "But you will find that humans are stronger than you think and very obedient."

Sela remained silent as her father pet her hair.

The unspoken understanding was that Vebius would be free to treat Sela no differently than the children he bought from slavers. He wouldn't be bound by the rigid rules of etiquette that would come from taking a child bride from one of the other great houses.

Vebius eyed him carefully.

"I suppose we could talk terms," Vebius answered.

Morak clasped his hands together.

"Excellent. I could have my aide draw up the contract for you to sign by morning," Morak suggested.

Vebius sat back in his chair and rolled his eyes.

"Let's not rush things," he cautioned.

Most marriage contracts took weeks, months even, to finalise.

"But you are in agreement?" Morak pressed.

He was keen to wrap this up. The sooner he had the guaranteed support of Vebius, the sooner Morak could march to the Imperial palace and stake his claim.

"I agree this would be mutually beneficial," Vebius answered.

Sela picked up her fork, absentmindedly poking at the chewy part of her giant scallop as they spoke. It was a fine house and the food had been on par with the offerings of her own estate.

Sela would probably be free to spend her days as she pleased.

And your nights in his bed. A nasty voice reminded her.

She wanted to break down and cry.

Morak could sense Vebius wasn't entirely sold on the notion.

"She is untouched," Morak added, hoping to sweeten the deal.

He watched with satisfaction as Vebius tried to hide his excitement. Morak had paid a hefty sum to get that information.

"From what I hear, you pay double for that to your… procurement institution," Morak settled on.

Vebius tugged at his collar. A tell-tale flush rose in his cheeks.

"You're one to talk," Vebius threw back.

He didn't like being called out on his sick habit.

Morak smirked.

"I find no shame in my recreational pursuits," Morak replied.

"You took a human consort," Vebius said, the very thought disgusting him.

Morak chuckled.

"Ah, but she wasn't a child," Morak threw back without hesitation.

Vebius's face flushed with embarrassment. Morak waved him off.

"Don't trouble yourself. I could care less what you do. In the age of my grandfather your… preference would never have faced scrutiny," Morak said.

He was hoping to play on the Senator's penchant for the old world ways that were fast dying in this new era.

There was a time when a girl like Sela would have been married without a thought for her age. But even then, they were proxy marriages.

A far cry from the arrangement Vebius sought.

"Quite right," Vebius barked.

"I myself have a great appreciation for the old customs," Morak went on.

He gripped Sela's arm.

"What if we were to honour them here? What if you were to take your right of Fracua Primino and we could work out the rest in the morning?" Morak suggested.

Sela had to stop herself from dropping her fork. The audible clang would no doubt earn a look of disapproval from her father.

But she couldn't stop her chest from heaving.

It was an ancient Romulan custom that had fallen out of favour. No one had practised Fracua Primino for centuries.

The purpose was to test the fertility of partners in a marriage contract. It was a trust bond. If a pregnancy followed, then the contract went ahead.

If it failed, then both parties were let off the hook with an agreement to politely forget the incident and a promise to defend the virtue of the other party were it ever questioned.

But there would be no heirs in this marriage.

Vebius wasn't wedding Sela for her prospects as a fertile young bride.

Morak was taking a gamble, hoping that Vebius would be so enticed by this offer of a young girl free of the fees and fear of criminal charges that came from buying one.

"Why wait?" Morak suggested brightly.

Sela blanched.

Morak was so eager to solidify this alliance that he had proposed the unthinkable.

He lifted his glass to Vebius.

"While I sample your wine you can sample my fruit," Morak said.

Sela said nothing as Vebius threw aside his outer tunic.

He paused and took a great, gulping drink of his wine. It spilled over his cheeks and onto his shirt. He was nearly a hundred and fifty – even older than her father.

By Romulan standards he was well past middle age, bordering on elderly.

"Sit. Sit there," Vebius barked.

He lifted his wrinkled hand and pointed behind her. Sela turned to see a fine wooden desk. She sat perched on the edge with the same perfect posture Drusilla had beat into her as a child.

"Does your fenthair do this often, hmm? Whore you around? Is that how he won that new parcel of land in the Western provinces?" Vebius asked.

Sela's mouth went dry. She struggled to collect her thoughts.

This is really happening. Sela thought.

"Well? Can you speak?" Vebius snapped.

"P-permission to speak, my lord," Sela stammered.

"Go on," Vebius said, clearly annoyed.

Sela took a breath to steady her nerves.

"No. N-no, my lord," Sela answered. "I'm.. I've been at the Imperial Education House on Nida."

Vebius stopped. He looked Sela up and down as he considered that perhaps Morak had been honest in their dealing.

She was young – even a little younger than Vebius liked. She couldn't have been further from the girls he usually purchased.

Sela was no perfumed slave made up for his benefit.

Her braid was tied off with a child's ribbon. There was a talon pinned on the collar of her school uniform, signifying that she was a student of academic excellence.

Sela's knees were skinned from a fall she sustained during fitness class. Ink stained the side of her hand from hours spent taking meticulous notes and sketching in the margins of her paper.

Sela sniffled, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

Vebius made a face of disgust as he ran his eyes over her body, repulsed by the fact that she was nothing more than a snot-nosed little girl.

In the dark of this guest room with no light save for a dim fire, Vebius could almost pretend she was a true Romulan – provided he didn't have to look at her.

"You're a virgin? Unspoiled?" Vebius asked.

Sela nodded.

"You've never been with another?" Vebius pressed, failing to hide his giddy anticipation at the thought.

"N-no," she answered, terrified by the thought.

Outside the pages of literature, Sela's only experience had come from what she'd seen and heard on her family estate.

She knew her father hurt women.

That he beat women, torturing them for his own sadistic pleasure.

At twelve, Sela firmly believed there were only two kinds of love – romantic love that existed only in fiction, and the cruel reality of men like her father.

And in Sela's eyes, all men were like her father.

Sela wasn't sure if it was simply the scenes of violence burned in her mind from her earliest memories or some deeper, cosmic sense of her place in the universe.

She didn't fully understand it. But she knew – she could feel – that she was just the latest generation in a long line of women that had suffered the same cycle of violence.

Sela clutched her locket.

She instinctively backed away, moving further onto the desk. She wasn't aware she was shaking, but Vebius could see it.

"Have you bled?" Vebius asked.

Sela shook her head.

"No," she said, her voice wavering.

"Good," Vebius sneered as he loosened his collar.

"I… I don't know what to do," Sela confessed.

She glanced down at her own clothing. Her hand hovered over the buckle at her waist.

"Don't bother," Vebius instructed as he unbuckled his own belt.

He slipped it off but kept it in hand as he closed in on Sela.

"I prefer to unwrap you myself," Vebius said.

Sela wanted to vomit. Literature had always been her refuge. As Sela knew that she would never be allowed to love, she had found solace in romantic stories.

She knew what happened between the pages of steamy tales hidden in the corners of the library. It couldn't have been further from the cruel reality of this old man with his hot, unwelcome breath and his greedy hands.

He stank of age and alcohol.

His demeanour was frosty at best.

Sela froze when he grabbed her ankle and roughly pulled her down to the edge. Vebius flipped Sela over and pushed her down onto the surface of the desk with no regard for her safety.

Sela bit her tongue as Vebius gripped the back of her head, forcing it down. It bounced off the surface of the desk with a sickening thump and Sela was left dazed.

She could feel something warm and wet starting to pool beneath the side of her face. Sela was bleeding, just above her right eye.

Vebius had sat politely through dinner and carefully played his hand in an effort to lead Morak on for one purpose only.

He was going to teach Morak a lesson he would never forget.

Technically, he had only agreed to discuss terms. He had never agreed to wed the girl.

"So, I will fuck Morak's filthy little half breed. And once I have ruined you and shamed your father, I will tell the Emperor everything that has happened here tonight," Vebius threatened.

Sela squeezed her eyes shut and recited the seven tenets of the Romulan Star Empire over and over in her mind.

Fidelas.

I pledge my allegiance to the Romulan Star Empire. And I shall remain loyal and true.

Retrima

I shall neither waver nor run from my duty. I resolve to do whatever is necessary to complete my service.

Fidieum.

I pledge my faith to the Imperial family. To the Seven Divines. To the Imperial Father, my emperor.

It was long after Vebius left, and the door had clicked closed, when Sela found it within herself to move.

She collapsed against the side of the desk. Her legs were too unsteady to walk.

Sela lifted one trembling hand to the belt around her neck and stopped, overcome with tears.

She had panicked when Vebius initially slipped his belt around her throat. For a brief moment, Sela considered it was all an attempt to assassinate Morak's last living heir.

A part of her wished he had done it, so she didn't have to feel this way.

Sela squeezed her eyes shut as his words echoed in her mind.

I don't want to look at you.

Sela hadn't made a peep. Nonetheless, he'd barked at her to shut up.

I don't want to think about what you are.

What – not who.

It stung.

I don't want to think about your whore mother.

I don't want to think about the insult your father has paid me.

And there it was.

Vebius wasn't excited. He was repulsed. His only thrill came at the prospect of payback.

This rape was not about some satisfying some sick urge – it was about sending a message.

And Sela was the one that had paid for it.

Vebius was infuriated that Morak would dare suggest a match with his daughter in an effort to win support for his claim. The very shame of it was enough to make the old Senator shudder.

And Vebius made sure Sela knew it.

He called her a whore.

Told Sela that she was revolting.

Told her that she had no right to sit at this table nor to eat his food. Hell, he didn't even think she had a right to exist.

I would have ripped you from your mother's womb and thrown you into the sea.

Sela cursed her human mother.

Sela hissed as her fingers assessed the damage. The cut above her eye was still tender.

A true Romulan would have had a thicker skull.

A true Romulan would never have allowed themselves to be manhandled.

She desperately wanted to climb into the bath, to sink down under the water and never re-emerge.

Her legs were too wobbly to carry her to the thermae in the adjoining room. She was disoriented and realised, with a pang of guilt, that she must have had a concussion.

Sela blamed herself. In her mind, Sela had failed spectacularly. She didn't want to think about what sort of punishment awaited her for disappointing her father.

One singular thought consumed her mind. Sela had to scrub away every trace of this attack. She couldn't let her father see her defeated, broken.

She started to crawl toward the thermae when a second, more powerful feeling gripped her being.

Fear.

Morak would likely chastise Sela if he didn't have proof of the deed.

In any case, a tiny part of Sela wanted her father to see exactly what Vebius had done. She hoped that her father would feel guilty, that he would promise to never put her in such a position again.

She wanted him to reign down fire on Vebius and his whole stupid line. She wanted to see his estate reduced to ash.

Sela climbed into the bed and collapsed on top of the blanket there. She didn't have the strength nor desire to do anything else.

Her fingers closed around the locket that hung from her neck. It had been a gift from her mother.

Her blind, beaten, defeated mother that had been forced to endure pregnancy after pregnancy at the hands of a man like Morak.

It was the same locket that had been handed down between generations of her mother's family. All of them had been capable, competent women.

Warriors.

And all of them, starting with Sela's namesake, had been reduced to nothing more than the usefulness of their wombs.

She wanted to cry again, but Sela was beyond tears.

Clutching her locket in hand, Sela vowed that she would end that cycle.

She took a solemn oath to the Divines that she would serve her empire faithfully, that she would do anything if it meant they would protect her from that fate.

"I will pay any price," she whispered to the dark.

Sela would give her very life in service if it meant she never had to touch another man.

Or bear children.

Sela lost track of time. She couldn't account for the hour, but she knew that she had not slept.

Morak slipped into her room around 04:00.

"And?" he demanded.

Sela sat up but did not speak. She couldn't find the words.

Does he not see?

Sela was aghast that her father had said nothing.

He seemed oblivious to the bruises.

Morak outright refused to acknowledge her torn clothes, the marks on her body, and the dried green blood on her face and between her thighs.

Sela's heart sank as she realised why her father had said nothing.

He doesn't care.

"I must know. Was he pleased?" Morak asked, demanding information. "Hmm? Did he seem happy? When did he leave?"

Sela couldn't find the words to describe her torment at the hands of Vebius.

Before she knew it, she was sobbing.

"Sela? Come now, get a grip," Morak urged as he shook Sela to try and compel her to speak.

Morak slapped her across the face.

"Sela," he said in warning.

"He used me," she said.

She bit her lip in a futile effort to stop it from shaking.

"He used me," she repeated as wiped her eyes on the back of her wrist.

Morak sighed in exasperation, presuming his studious prig of an heir was simply too prim and sheltered to understand the ways of the world.

"Perhaps it is time we have a talk about the natural ways of—"

Sela shook her head furiously.

"No. No you don't understand. He raped me," she insisted through hot tears.

Morak pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed to the divines for patience.

"Sela, I know this is not what you wanted. But I gave him permission to bed you and as you are my heir—"

"I know what sex is, fenthair," Sela spat. "And I know the difference. This… this wasn't—"

Sela paused as fury took over.

"He raped me," she insisted. "He doesn't want an alliance. He said that… that he wanted to ruin me to shame you for insulting him and… and he's going to tell the Emperor that you were plotting against him with—"

Morak's hand shot out and closed around Sela's throat.

"And you are just telling me this now?" he roared.

Sela blinked in disbelief. She could barely walk let alone run off in a strange house to warn her father.

"Get up. We're leaving. Now," Morak ordered as he tossed Sela onto the floor.

He leapt to his feet, pacing as he tried to think of an escape. Morak ran one shaking hand back through his dark hair.

Suddenly he stopped and wheeled around, once more his hand was on Sela.

"And this is the truth?" Morak demanded, shaking her.

For a brief moment he considered that Sela was lying, that this was all a clever ruse to spare her from the marriage.

"I-I—" Sela stammered, unable to formulate a response.

Can he not see? Sela thought bitterly.

"Right," Morak said in a terse voice.

He threw his own coat at Sela and ordered her to dress. She stumbled when she tried to stand. On shaking, unsteady legs she fumbled to pick up the garment.

Morak knew there wasn't a moment to waste. They were in grave danger. Dissatisfied with Sela's inability to pull herself together, he yanked her up by the arm.

Morak threw his coat around Sela and settled for half-dragging, half-carrying her out of the room.

"Hurry," Morak whispered.

His concern for Sela did not come from a place of parental love. Rather, Morak recognised both he and his only surviving heir were in the home of an enemy.

He had to escape and get Sela out to safety in order to preserve his house.

They left before dawn, catching a smug Vebius on their way out to their shuttle.

"Thank you," Vebius said, lifting a glass to them.

Morak glared.

His fingers danced at the hilt of the blade holstered against his thigh.

"Don't bother," Vebius said, waving him off.

He had no intention of killing Morak. He would leave that to the Emperor.

"You see, I've already dispatched a messenger to warn him. By tonight you'll be up on charges of treason," Vebius explained.

His gaze fell on Sela, clinging to her father like a small child. Vebius chuckled.

"And you," he said with a smirk. "You'll be lucky to wind up in the mines on Remus. I doubt you'll last long."

Sela knew this was no idle threat. If her family were to fall, Sela had no one to turn to. No one wanted a half-human.

"I imagine they'll be grateful for fresh meat. The men there won't care about your tainted bloodline and believe me, they won't be nearly as considerate as I was," Vebius said menacingly.

He turned to Morak.

"Did you know she cried the whole time?" Vebius asked, taunting them. "You should be ashamed. The Great General Morak raising such a weak little thing."

He hissed, sucking air in through his teeth in disapproval.

"At least you won't have to worry about the future of your house. Because once the Emperor learns of your plot, your days will be numbered," Vebius sneered.

He had long searched for a way to bury Morak. Vebius considered Morak a rival. He didn't appreciate the way Morak had cast aside his cousin in favour of a human.

Moreso, Vebius had no desire to see the child of that union succeed as a member of the Imperial family.

"You have shamed your house and your name. And now that I have ruined your heir, you will fade into obscurity," Vebius said.

In a rare moment of courage, Sela found her voice.

Clinging to her father, she felt the urge to seek revenge on this man, to put him in place, to remind him that she was Sela Paliurus, fourth in line for the Imperial throne.

"No, you won't," Sela declared.

Morak was shocked. It was the first intelligible sentence she had spoken since.

"You won't. You won't tell anyone," Sela threatened. "Because to ruin me and shame my father, you will have to admit that you dared to defile your body with a filthy half-breed."

Morak smirked.

Sela pulled herself up. She was still leaning on her father for support, but not nearly as much as she had been.

During her time at school, Sela had poured herself into scholarly pursuits. Her understanding of history, rhetoric, and Imperial law were unparalleled amongst her peers.

Sela knew that she was well under the age of consent. While the Imperial Senate had largely looked the other way when it came to Vebius's habits, that understanding was based on a modicum of discretion.

It was one thing for Vebius to buy a serf from one of the pleasure houses. No one cared if a serf disappeared.

But people would bat an eye at this. Begrudgingly, Sela accepted that any sense of outrage would come from the insult paid to her father rather than the crime she'd been forced to endure.

Nonetheless, Sela saw the advantage and pressed it.

"I'm still a minor. If my father never agreed and there was no marriage contract – as you now claim – then you have raped me, sir."

Her comment hung in the air.

Where Morak had once been humiliated by Sela, he now felt a surge of pride.

"Do you know what the punishment is for attacking, defiling a member of the Imperial family? They will arrest you and confiscate your lands. And your heir will be stripped of his inheritance," Sela warned.

Vebius blanched.

Sela pulled her father's coat away from her neck to allow Vebius to properly view the deep green bruising on her neck.

"And because of your… consideration," Sela said, throwing his own words back at him, "I think there will be little doubt."

Morak and Sela limped back to the shuttle.

And to Sela's great surprise, he scooped her up after she lost her footing. Morak carried her back to the shuttle and brought Sela to his own quarters.

Sela reached for a towel when Morak caught her wrist.

"Not yet. We will need to make a stop on our way home," Morak said.

Inspired by his daughter's quick thinking, Morak used Sela's injuries to sell the Emperor (who had made a miraculous recovery) on Morak's version of the story.

He claimed he was only trying to shore up support, to hold the Empire together for his nephew for fear that unscrupulous outsiders would seek to turn the situation to their advantage.

And when questioned why he pulled Sela out of school, Morak feigned concern for protecting the Imperial family.

Uneasy times.

"We stopped at Sun Gate. He is kinsman to my wife. I thought we would be safe there," Morak lied. "But as you can see—"

Sela winced as her father pulled her forward.

"He defiled my daughter," Morak said. "We've all heard the gossip. Now, I never gave any credence to the rumours before. But now—"

Morak trailed off and left the rest unsaid.

"Hmmm," the Emperor said as he examined the bruising on Sela's body.

He frowned.

"Why have you not sought justice?" the Emperor asked.

Morak baulked.

"To do so would only ruin my daughter and her marriage prospects. Not to mention the shame it would bring on our house and, by association, you," Morak pointed out.

The Emperor bristled. He had already taken a lifetime's worth of shame from this pathetic half-human child he had begrudgingly been forced to accept as his cousin.

He needed Morak's support.

And somehow this girl's weak human genes had managed to outlast all her pure-blooded half siblings.

"Very well. You were right to keep it quiet," the Emperor declared.

Sela was never quite certain if the Emperor truly believed her father's account or if he simply didn't want to pursue coming against him.

Either way, she was spared marriage to Vebius, ruin, and (most importantly) her father's rage.

And when they arrived home and Drusilla wanted to berate Sela for failing, Morak snapped at his wife and ordered her confined to her rooms until further notice.

To Sela's delight, she was to return to her studies. Morak himself accompanied her on the shuttle ride back to Nida.

"You are a clever girl," Morak said.

He kissed the top of her head.

"My little eagle," he said fondly.

Sela spied an opportunity and decided to seize upon it.

"Must I marry? Could I not be permitted to serve the Empire another way?" Sela asked.

Her aunt Ramdha had never married. She was the foremost expert on Iconian history, Romulan religion, and history.

"My sister has always had that luxury because I married and produced heirs. But you do not have that choice," Morak said.

Sela was the last living heir.

The Paliurus line depended upon her marriage prospects.

Even her cousin, the Emperor, had yet to produce an heir and he'd been trying for more than a decade.

"Please don't make me," Sela pleaded.

Her lower lip began to tremble. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

She didn't think she could live trapped like that.

She knew men hurt women.

Her father hurt women.

"Please," she sobbed.

Morak sat down next to Sela. He cupped her face and thumbed away her tears.

"Oh, my child. My daughter. My only daughter," Morak cooed.

Sela sniffled. It was so rare for her father to treat her with tenderness. But since that night at Sun Gate, he had been atypically kind.

"I will revisit the possibility of a contract with Duras," Morak said, completely breezing past his daughter's plea.

"No. No," Sela sobbed. "Please not him."

Duras was brute just like her father.

"You have to wed," Morak said.

He sighed.

"B-b-but what if he's like… him?" Sela asked.

Morak pulled Sela into a tight embrace, suffocatingly so as he stroked her hair.

"My little eagle," he cooed.

"Please don't make me. I don't want to have children. I don't want any of it," she sobbed. "I'll throw myself into the sea before I will wed."

Morak chuckled.

"All these tears. All this drama," he said.

Morak rocked her back and forth, shushing her as she sobbed.

"You will have to learn to accept it," Morak said.

Sela froze.

"It is for our family. Our security. Our birthright," Morak went on.

He said our, but Sela knew that really meant his.

"And if it takes selling you to the highest bidder or giving you away to a man like Duras then that is what I will do," Morak said.

Morak dropped his voice. In an instant, the doting father vanished. The intimidating father Sela had feared since childhood returned.

"If he wants to beat you or take you like Vebius did, then you will pull yourself together and bear it with grace," Morak hissed in her ear.

Sela was gutted.

"If he wants to pass you around and let every one of his friends fuck you, you will not utter a word of complaint," Morak warned.

Sela bit her own tongue to stop from crying out as Morak twisted his fingers in the back of her hair.

"You will not embarrass me again like that. You will not shed a tear in front of your husband. You will do what your betters have done before you – close your eyes and think of the Empire," Morak snarled.

Sela felt like she couldn't breathe.

"Because if that is what it takes to ascend as Emperor, so be it," Morak declared.

He sat back and slipped two fingers under Sela's chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. He smacked her across the face.

"Let this be the last time you ever question me on this," Morak warned.

He stared at his daughter, wordlessly commanding her to accept the importance of this order.

Morak clutched the front of Sela's collar.

"If you don't stop crying I will smack you again," Morak growled.

He shook Sela like a ragdoll before ordering her to look at him.

"Retrima?" he demanded, referencing one of the seven tenets of the Empire.

When Sela had been little, Morak had often quizzed her on them.

"I shall neither waver nor run from my duty. I resolve to do whatever is necessary to complete my service," Sela recited.

"Never forget," Morak said as he kissed her forehead.

Sela was sent back to her classes.

She had coursework and her activities but no friends to confide in nor counsellors to speak to. She found herself longing for the days when her protector, her beloved Castillo was still there.

He never would have permitted a man like Vebius near her.

She wanted to be small and safe again, little enough to crawl in Castillo's arms.

But Sela had none of those things. Morak swore her to secrecy. She was not even permitted to discuss the matter with her physician.

Sela was sent back to the Education House Nida.

They never spoke of it again.

Ekloire Starbase | Present

Korenus sighed. He rolled onto his back and rested his hands behind his head. Sela crawled next to him and snuggled down against his chest.

"Perhaps you could put Duras off? You know, sour the milk?" Korenus suggested.

Sela didn't follow.

"Invite him to your bed and do the opposite of what you usually do," Korenus said, half-teasing. "Make him think you're terrible – if you can."

Sela frowned.

"No," she said in a strange, faraway voice.

"Well, then pretend to be a prude. Act like you don't know how to please him," Korenus suggested.

"No, no you don't understand. My father won't allow it. Not until there is a contract," Sela explained.

Morak had learned from the experience with Vebius.

"Otherwise, we would be ruined," Sela said.

Korenus laughed – he couldn't help it.

"And what would you possibly know of being ruined?" Korenus asked.

Korenus had spent years trying to regain even a semblance of the life he was born into.

"After my father was attained as a traitor, we were stripped of our lands. My mother lost her pension. They even confiscated her personal income. We had nothing to live on," Korenus explained.

It was an unpleasant memory.

Born to privilege and wealth, Korenus's life had taken a complete turn after his father was executed as a traitor.

"My mother, divines rest her soul, took her own life rather than live in the shame of being disgraced and impoverished," Korenus said.

He had expected Sela to comment as such a death was the honourable Romulan way. But she remained silent.

"I couldn't feed them all, you know?" Korenus went on.

His father had four legitimate children (of which Korenus was the eldest) along with two bastards that were in his care.

"I found work for the bastards. My younger brother was taken as a ward of Senator Orsinius. I sent the older one to the Imperial Shrine," Korenus explained.

He sighed.

"My sister was forced to wed a butcher's boy," he said, his voice tainted with embarrassment.

For a Romulan to share such a deep secret was a sign of trust.

"I was stripped of my command. My marriage was declared invalid," Korenus went on.

Sela sat up and blinked, stunned.

"What?" Korenus asked, surprised by her reaction.

He sat up on his elbows to trace his fingers along the line of Sela's jaw. He found it a little endearing that she seemed jealous.

"It was over more than a decade ago," Korenus explained. "I had to marry too just as you must."

"It's not that," Sela assured him.

She wasn't envious. She was hurt.

"She left you? She just left you?" Sela asked.

A small smile crept onto the face of Korenus as he realised Sela was upset by this, appalled by the disloyalty.

She was sad.

Sela lowered herself. She snaked her arms around his body, holding him close as she lay on his chest as if to signify that she could not stomach the notion of such a betrayal.

"I was ruined. I didn't have a single talon to my name. It was to be expected," Korenus shared.

He had sold every last one of the few family heirlooms he'd managed to salvage in order to repay her dowry – a requirement of their annulment.

"Jakorra was accustomed to a certain lifestyle that I could no longer provide as a disruptor for hire," Korenus teased.

Sela squeezed him tighter.

"You will never have to worry about that again," Sela assured him.

Publicly she may have lambasted him for his error in judgement at the reception and his open familiarity. But here in private she was all promises and praise.

Sela swore she would do what she could to restore Korenus's titles and family estate.

"It will be in his power," Sela explained, banking on her father's success. "Serve me well and I will do what I can for you."

She wanted to keep Korenus close, to favour and reward him like her father had done with Commander Jarok.

"Now why would you do that?" Korenus teased.

To his surprise, Sela gave an answer he wasn't expecting.

"Because I only want your loyalty," Sela confessed.

She paused.

"And because… because I know what it feels like," she said.

And she did. She knew the terror of suddenly losing everything.

"When I was a little girl, my father turned us out," Sela said.

It was the first time she had shared that information with anyone.

"We were forced to live as prisoners on his estate," Sela said before quickly adding, "but I don't really remember any of it."

Sela told herself that.

She told herself over and over again that she had been too young to recall that time in her life.

Yet, there were memories that lingered.

There were flashes of memory – a doll with a single button for an eye, a woman with a brilliant smile, a crackling fire and howling wind.

A soft voice singing a song Sela knew but couldn't quite remember.

A hauntingly beautiful melody.

And a language Sela knew – somehow, some way – regardless of how hard she tried to forget it.

Sela had convinced herself these memories were nothing more than her imagination. Childish fantasy. But from time to time, she found clues that indicated they were more real than Sela cared to admit.

A hand-carved sailboat tucked away in a hidden compartment in her quarters.

A doll with a single button for an eye – scorched as if she had been pulled from the fire (but no less loved).

A tiny bundle of bones wrapped with care and laid to rest atop an isolated cliff overlooking the churning waters of the sea below.

Sela had never told her father of that discovery.

Somehow, she knew this was a secret.

At nineteen, Sela had been abandoned (at one point or another) by everyone she had ever loved. Her own father's allegiance seemed to change with the wind.

Sela knew she was only as good to him as she was useful.

Her protector, her beloved Castillo left.

Hell, he fired on her ship.

Even her mother abandoned her.

"Would you ever leave?" Sela asked suddenly.

She had to know.

"If my fortunes were to fall, if my father were to fail – would you ever leave?" Sela pressed.

Korenus rolled them together. He cast his eyes over Sela, studying the fear in her face for a moment as he considered he managed to successfully earn her allegiance in such short order.

There was something sweet and almost childlike about the fact Sela still believed in things like love and loyalty in spite of all she had been through. It went against everything she was raised to believe in.

And it was a reminder for Korenus that Sela was still (in many ways) young and impressionable.

"Never," he promised before he captured her lips.

Of course, this was a lie.

Korenus nuzzled his nose against Sela's face.

"Never," he murmured.

He moved to kiss her, but Sela's finger shot out between them.

"Will you do something for me?" Sela asked.

Korenus gestured, indicating he was open to the suggestion.

"And just what does my lady have in mind?" he asked playfully.

"Find out my worth," Sela answered.

Korenus paused and studied her face.

"My worth," Sela repeated. "I want to know exactly what the terms are between my father and Duras."

General Morak signed off his signature on his tablet before handing it over to Commander Jarok.

"My quarters are prepared?" Morak inquired.

"Yes, General," Jarok replied.

Morak squared his shoulders as an aide attached his dark red cloak.

"And the envoy we sent ahead?" Morak pressed.

"She has reported everything is prepared," Jarok said.

Morak swept into the corridor with Jarok and a slew of aides behind him.

"You'll arrive in time for final meal, and everything is ready for a private service at the Imperial shrine," Jarok said as he kept pace with Morak's broad stride.

General Morak was off to Imperial City. He was to meet with his nephew, the Emperor, before escorting him out to witness Ekloire Starbase personally.

In fact, an entire division from the Imperial Fleet would join them as part of a celebration and sendoff before they launched the final stage of their plan.

Morak knew how to motivate his troops.

This was to be his triumph.

"And ensure my daughter's dogs are out of sight before we return," Morak ordered.

Jarok didn't follow.

He knew Sela's hounds were precious to the girl and had no desire to take them.

"The riffraff," Morak said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh," Jarok said, nodding slowly as he realised Morak was referring to the three new men Sela had hired as personal guards.

The lift doors opened. Morak and his entourage squeezed inside.

"Don't eliminate them. I just don't want her flaunting them. Set them up with quarters on her ship," Morak barked.

"Right away, sir," Jarok answered.

Korenus chuckled when two Uhlans tried to prevent him access to the General's office.

"Unhand me," he sneered.

"No one is permitted entrance," one of the guards said.

Korenus just smirked.

"I'm here to leave a gift for the General. From his daughter," Korenus said.

He opened a small box to reveal an exquisite smelling incense.

"For the General's shrine. For luck," Korenus said.

The guards wouldn't budge.

"This probably cost more than we all make in a year," Korenus said, wiggling the box.

The guards were torn. Korenus leaned in close.

"I think we all know Commander Sela won't take it well if she finds out you stopped this delivery," Korenus warned.

He hissed, sucking air in through his teeth.

"And I wouldn't want to be the officer that had to tell General Morak you denied his daughter," Korenus went on.

Korenus set the incense down on the General's desk with a handwritten note from Sela.

As he suspected there were two adjacent doors – one that led to Morak's private quarters and another that was connected to the formal reception room.

Korenus unlocked the door that led to the reception room before slipping back into the corridor.

"Thank you," he said, tipping his head to the guards on his way out.

He waited until the change of the guard before sneaking into the reception room.

Korenus checked left and then right before he slipped through the passage that connected the room to the General's private office.

Korenus tiptoed behind Morak's unoccupied desk.

He took great pleasure as he slipped into his fine leather chair. Korenus ran his hands across the smooth surface.

Easy. He told himself.

Someday he was going to have an office like Morak's with its expensive furniture and lavish rugs. He would line his walls with Andorian crystal and mounted Targ horns.

He too would sip imported bloodwine and have a cavalcade of aides at his beck and call.

And if he played his cards right he might even be Imperial Regent.

Korenus seriously doubted that the Empire would ever accept Sela as its Empress. She may be fourth in line, but he had a feeling the people would reject a half human.

But if she were to bear a child…

There was some precedence. Emperor Encinious had taken a Klingon wife. Their daughter had borne a child with a Romulan aristocrat that went on to become Emperor.

And there were rumours that the Praxian dynasty had Orion blood.

Both Sela and Korenus's ancestors were far closer to their Vulcan cousins than either cared to admit.

And if Korenus were to father that child…

He chuckled to himself, amused by the very thought of it.

Sela was by far the easier mark Korenus had ever set his sights on – not to mention the most profitable.

Korenus queued up Morak's computer.

Sela had provided her father's authorisation code.

"Now then, let's see what you're worth little Empress."

"And?" Sela demanded.

Korenus hissed as she bit down on his ear. They were in her thermae. Korenus was standing at the edge reading off the information he'd obtained.

Sela was behind him.

"And the payment of two million talons," Korenus read on.

"And?" Sela pressed.

"And access and trading rights to the starports on Kiwain, Uttero, Bragonzi, and Jarenxis," Korenus continued.

Sela clutched his chest, wordlessly urging him to read on.

"Ooo… the annexation of Estrelious XIV," Korenus said.

It was a planet that had long been in dispute between the two powers.

To Sela's dismay, her father had assured Duras in writing that Sela would produce an heir and spare within the first three years of the contract.

"Alright, enough about what Duras gets. What is my father selling me for?" Sela asked.

Korenus lifted his eyebrows.

"Well, Commander-—"

"I'll smack you if you don't get on with it," Sela interjected.

He smirked and gave her a quick peck.

"I think you'll be surprised," Korenus said.

He certainly had been.

Duras was prepared to fork over a vast fortune for a chance at the Romulan Imperial line. Like Morak, he saw this as an opportunity to exert control over another Empire.

Eight dilithium mines.

Twenty-six ships.

Thousands of fresh troops.

Control of nine planets that had been in dispute for the last century.

Korenus laughed.

"What's so funny?" Sela asked.

"Duras has agreed to gift your father an estate on Terentia along with hunting rights," Korenus explained.

It was a popular destination for Klingons and Romulans alike. Though the planet was technically under Klingon control, it boasted a number of private villas and homes to the elite from both Empires.

Terentia had a reputation for its beautiful, temperate climate and good hunting grounds.

"In return, your father has agreed to give him sixty cases of Saurian Brandy and—"

Korenus paused.

"And cigars," he lied.

Sela could hear it in his voice.

She ripped away the list to read for herself.

Sela scoffed with laughter as she skimmed the real contents.

Sixty cases of Saurian Brandy and Duras's choice of two slaves from Morak's estate to take as consorts.

"I'm not surprised. He's a pig," Sela said dismissively.

She didn't care about Duras's consorts. Sela set the list down on the edge of her bath and turned her attention back to Korenus.

"The more time he spends with them, the less I have to suffer his company," Sela remarked.

She started to walk her fingers up his chest. Korenus snatched her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.

"Duras will probably try to kill you," she said.

"I'm scrappy," Korenus responded as he nibbled his way up Sela's arm.

She let her head fall to the side. Korenus did his best to distract her, but Sela's mind was fixated on the matter.

"At least my father intends to wait until our annexation of the Federation is established," she said.

It wasn't like she had to wed Duras tomorrow.

It would take time to negotiate the final contract and work out all the details.

"Duras will have to ensure he has the support of the High Council. K'mpec will take this as a direct challenge to his leadership – and rightfully so," Sela pointed out.

"Does your mind ever stop thinking about politics?" Korenus asked between kisses.

He nipped the pulse point on Sela's neck. She barely reacted.

"All of which depends on the dispensation from the Emperor," Sela continued as she stared at the wall.

The jury was still out on that. Her cousin's opinion swung like a pendulum. As a member of the Imperial family, Sela and the matter of her marriage and any offspring were both a boost and threat to his own position.

At times, he considered the prospect of Duras too dangerous. Other times, the Emperor could see the advantages of such a match. Sending Sela off to Duras would limit her ability to rise within the ranks of the Fleet.

It would give the Emperor time to have his own heir.

"And of course, my father will want to make a spectacle of it. Klingons are slaves to their own silly little rituals. Kahless and all that," Sela said, rolling her eyes.

Korenus chuckled.

"And you think we aren't?" he asked.

"Our pomp and circumstance serves a purpose. The masses love a celebration. It distracts them from their grubby little lives," Sela argued. "But the Klingons? It's like theatre to them."

Her face soured.

"Only, they really believe it," she said.

Suddenly, Sela grinned.

"Maybe I'll get lucky and accidentally slice Duras during the bat'leth battle?" Sela pondered aloud.

"I believe it is a mock battle," Korenus said.

"Perhaps I should demand a real one?" Sela teased.

She giggled and clutched the back of Korenus's hair. Sela pulled him close, nuzzling against his face.

"I could be a right terror and drag it out for months with demands. Refuse to wed until they're met," she said, beaming. "Hmm… I think a Tholian silk tunic with no less than a thousand Rigellian crystals."

It was a wicked thought.

"And real saltiean leather boots," Sela added.

The 'Saltiean' was a crocodile-like creature that lived along the southern coast of the main Romulan continent.

"It's illegal to kill them," Korenus pointed out.

"I know," Sela whispered in response, indicating that she didn't care.

"Mmm… if that is what my lady wants," Korenus said as he captured her lips. "I've killed one, you know? Spent a little time as a big game guide."

Sela smirked.

"Aren't you just full of surprises?" Sela asked in response.

"They're difficult to find and even harder to kill," Korenus warned.

Sela wasn't bothered.

"That's alright. There's time. My father's far too devout to allow such an event to conflict with any of the Divine Imperial holidays," Sela said.

There were dozens of them.

Sela paused. There was a strange look in her cold blue eyes. She was amused.

In control.

She bit back a grin as she traced her fingers across the line of Korenus's jaw and down over his collarbone.

"And I plan to tell my father I cannot wed Duras until it's the fertile season and all the Imperial Poppy trees are in bloom," Sela shared.

Korenus threw back his head and roared with laughter.

"He'll eat that up," Sela said, laughing.

"You really don't want to marry him, do you?" Korenus asked.

All of a sudden, the mood shifted. Sela's smile faded. She averted her gaze to the surface of the water.

"I don't want to marry anyone," Sela said.

Korenus reached out of the water and tucked an errant strand of hair back behind Sela's ear. He slipped two fingers under her chin, forcing Sela to turn back to him.

"What about your line? Would a child not bring you happiness?" he asked.

It was line reinforced to all Romulan aristocrats. From an early age, both Korenus and Sela had been taught that marriage was a political arrangement.

At best, they would find companionship and stability. They were taught not to expect happiness.

But children?

It was the duty of every Romulan aristocrat to produce an heir.

And they were constantly reminded they would find happiness in their children.

Sela thought it was a foul notion.

"You may not find love with Duras, but you could—"

"Don't," Sela said in a sharp voice.

Korenus cupped her face. He stroked his thumb across Sela's cheek.

"I will bear no man's child," Sela vowed.

Korenus hesitated for a split second. This attitude certainly threw a kink in his plan. But she was young and Korenus was confident he could persuade her – eventually.

"As you wish, my lady," he said with a small nod.

Korenus picked Sela up and flipped their position, so she was trapped against the wall of the thermae. His lips hovered inches from her own.

Before they could enjoy their moment alone, the door chimed.

"Ignore it," Sela said.

The door chimed again.

Sela's head fell back against the tile. She groaned.

"Enter," she hissed.

An elderly, trembling aide rushed inside. He was one of Morak's men.

"What?" Sela demanded.

"P-p-permission to speak, m-my lady," the aide requested.

Sela gestured, indicating he should get on with it.

"Your f-father's ship is passing through a plasma storm and is currently out of reach," the aide stammered.

Sela slipped out Korenus's arms and pulled herself up to her full height.

"And what could possibly be so important that you would disturb me?" Sela asked as she made her up the steps of her thermae.

She towered over the smaller aide, leering down at him.

His face flushed and he dropped his gaze to the floor, fearful of being lashed just for looking at her.

The aide was shaking so bad that his knuckles were white around the tablet clutched in his hands.

"Well, spit it out," Sela snarled.

The aide gulped.

"W-w-we detected one of the security alarms on Lantera was recently tripped," the aide said. "A-and initial scans from the long-range monitoring system indicate one ship."

Sela blinked in disbelief.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and fought the urge to reach for her disruptor. They'd had issues with the security monitoring system on Lantera for ages.

A sensor malfunction was hardly worth Sela's attention.

She was about to order Korenus to haul this aide away when he said something that caught her ear.

"The signal on the ship matches that of the stolen Harrier-class ship. The one—"

He paused, stopping short of saying 'the one you lost.'

"The one from Tantalus," the aide concluded.

Sela took a step back, nearly stumbling as she grinned with delight. Suddenly, she grabbed the aide's chin.

"Well, why didn't you say so?" she said in a simpering voice.

Sela snapped her fingers.

"Get out. Get dressed," she barked at Korenus.

Sela rushed over to fetch her trousers – practically jumping into them as she pulled them on.

Korenus was less than a step out of the thermae when she threw his tunic at him.

"Hurry up!" Sela urged.

Less than thirty minutes later, Sela boarded her own ship with her entourage in tow.

"We're going to capture those traitors once and for all," Sela announced as she marched up the ramp to her ship.

The base-wide communications system was blasting orders for other crews to standby.

"I'm going to drag those traitors to the Imperial City in chains," Sela said with delight.

She felt a tingle of excitement surge through her body. Sela turned over her shoulder and gave Korenus a quick, knowing look.

He replied with a polite nod.

A step behind them was Movar, Sela's adjutant. He'd been assigned by her father upon her elevation to Commander.

Movar was a capable officer. But Sela had never fully trusted him. She knew he was really just eyes and ears for Morak.

And Movar was none too pleased to be supplanted by this dashing newcomer.

"I'd like you on the Bridge, Korenus," Sela said.

Movar grumbled under his breath the whole way onto this ship.

Rogue. Movar thought as he glared at Korenus's back.

Most of Sela's crew were already aboard. As soon as the call to assemble had gone out, they were quick to drop whatever they'd been doing.

Bringing up the rear were Liran and Merul with Sela's hounds.

She knelt down to give Portunus and Azura a loving scratch behind the ears. She smiled at her dogs. Their tails whipped about in anticipation.

"Liran, Merul, take my babies to my private shuttle. Guard them well," Sela ordered.

All of the crew leapt to attention as Sela swept onto the Bridge.

"All decks report ready, Commander," Movar said.

A communication from Ekloire sounded across the ship's channel as Sela's vessel was cleared for departure.

Sela's helmsman offered a Romulan salute and bowed as Sela crossed past his station.

Sela slipped into the Command Chair. She ran her hands along the armrest, savouring the familiar feel.

Caelus.

The Caelus felt like home – a true home.

It was the one place where Sela was in complete control.

Sela's ship was a new line of D'deridex-class cruiser. Less than two years old, it was one of the most impressive and advanced ships in the Romulan Fleet.

Not your daddy's warship. She mused.

"Inform the Auxilia and the Caledonia to standby," Sela said.

They were two other ships docked at Ekloire. Both were D'deridex class cruisers, though they were a little older than Sela's ship.

Nonetheless, they were still formidable warships.

And after the last encounter with the survivors, Sela wasn't about to take chances.

Sela's mind was fixated on one thought.

Fenthair will be so proud.

Sela crossed her legs and sat back in the high-backed seat as she watched the ship pull away from Ekloire Starbase at quarter impulse.

The vessel turned in preparation to initiate warp travel. The stars came into view on the screen.

"Course laid in for Lantera. Ready on your orders, Commander," the helm advised.

"Take us out, Berellius," Sela ordered.

She glanced to her left and offered Korenus a brilliant smile.

"The Divines have smiles on us, indeed," she remarked.

At the helm, Berellius keyed in his command authorisation to activate the warp drive. There was a small flash, and the ship disappeared.

Two decks down, Merul and Liran watched the jump to warp from the window of Sela's personal shuttle.

Even the shuttle was nicer than the barracks on Ekloire.

"Wouldn't mind getting stranded here for a few days," Liran said with a smirk.

He threw his feet up on the helm and popped open a ration pack of nuts.

Merul wasn't as thrilled.

He flopped down on the bench along the wall in dismay.

"How come he's up there and we're down here, eh? Isn't this getting a little… frustrating?" Merul asked.

Liran shrugged as he tossed a nut into his mouth.

"It's always 'watch the bloody dogs' while they—"

Merul trailed off, grumbling under his breath.

"Get off," he grimaced as Azura slobbered all over his hand.

Azura cocked her to the side and whined, begging for attention. In a matter of seconds, Portunus was at her side, whimpering too.

For being terrifyingly large dogs, they were both meek little puppies when it came to getting attention.

Merul rolled his eyes.

"You've had more than enough treats today. Commander Sela gave me strict orders not to overfeed you," Merul said, pleading with the dogs.

Suddenly, he threw his hands up in the air before crawling into the corner. He crossed his arms in a huff, scowling at them.

"This is what I mean. I'm talking to a bloody dog," Merul muttered.

"Don't know what you're on about," Liran said.

He stuffed his mouth with another fistful, talking as he chewed. Portunus and Azura were quick to lap up any bits that fell on the floor.

"There's food for a start," Liran pointed out.

Sela fed them well – sharing her own fine meals and wine with all three of her new guards. It was a world away from irregular meals of rukesh porridge.

"We're making better pay than we ever would back home. Good living quarters," Liran went on.

Merul glowered as Liran rattled off all their newfound perks.

"I've never slept in a proper bed before. Warm sheets. Clean water. Soft pillows."

He paused to wiggle his eyebrows.

"Good cunny," Liran added.

Merul shot him a look.

"Come on, how hard is it? We say 'yes, Commander', do what she asks, feed these pups," Liran said, reaching down to scratch behind Portunus's ears. "Yes. Yes we do. Isn't that right?"

Liran laughed as Azura snatched the snack right out of his hands.

"Play our cards right and we might be rewarded," Liran reminded him.

"But it's different for him," Merul argued.

Liran waved him off.

"He's one of them," Liran said with a vague shrug.

He wasn't bothered in the slightest – nor was Liran surprised.

"Once. Before. But his father was a traitor. He's one of us now," Merul countered.

"He was never one of us," Liran threw back. "There's always been two sets of rules. You know that."

Merul slumped back against the hull and frowned.

"It's not fair," he said, shaking his head. "What gives them the right, eh? We're the ones that work the fields, take care of the fucking dogs."

Liran's expression darkened.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," Liran warned, dropping his voice. "That kind of talk could get us both killed."

Liran leaned back in his seat and folded his hands behind his head.

"Relax. If anything happens, we're on the most important shuttle. So, you know we'll get out of here. We don't even have to work," Liran reminded him.

He grinned.

"And I suspect she'll be awfully excited after we finish this," Liran said.