Star Trek:

The Next Generation™:

Slings and Arrows

Book 1: A Sea of Troubles by J. Steven York & Christina F. York

Book 2: The Oppressor’s Wrong by Phaedra M. Weldon

Book 3: The Insolence of Office by William Leisner

Book 4: That Sleep of Death by Terri Osborne

Book 5: A Weary Life by Robert Greenberger

Book 6: Enterprises of Great Pitch and Moment by Keith R.A. DeCandido

STAR TREK

THE NEXT GENERATION™

SLINGS AND ARROWS

Book 6: Enterprises of Great Pitch and Moment

Keith R.A. DeCandido

POCKET BOOKS

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ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-5027-3

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Dedicated to the memory of Gene

Roddenberry and Michael Piller, two fine

writers now lost to us, but whose work

will live on forever

CHAPTER

1

Palais de la Concorde

Paris, Earth

The first time Jean-Luc Picard set foot in the Palais de la Concorde, he was eight years old, taking a class trip to visit the seat of the Federation government in Paris, only a short air car ride from his home in Labarre. One of his classmates, a girl named Martine, had said that she had hoped to meet President Laikan, though Jean-Luc had thought the girl stupid to think so. Indeed, they had not met the president, who was vacationing on Alpha Centauri, which, their teacher explained, was why they had been able to arrange the tour. They met several other people who worked for the government—including Laikan’s chief of staff, a very gregarious and friendly Denobulan—but none of them were the president and therefore were of less interest to a group of eight-year-old children. Their teacher admonished them for this. The Federation government was far more than a single person, and the importance should be placed, he felt, on the structure where the work of government took place.

But to a group of children who had only really known one president in their lifetimes to date, it was a disappointment.

Now it was sixty years later, and Picard was in the Palais once again, having lived through the regimes of half a dozen or so presidencies, from Laikan’s successor, Thelian, to the recently departed, Jaresh-Inyo. He suspected that his eight-year-old self would never have imagined that the president of the Federation would personally summon him to the Ra-ghoratreii Room. But then, his eight-year-old self probably didn’t anticipate being captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, either.

Picard had met President Min Zife when he had been a councillor, representative of Bolarus to the Federation Council. His landslide victory at the end of the previous year over Jaresh-Inyo had been taken by many as a mandate for change, especially since Jaresh-Inyo lost with a smaller percentage of votes than any incumbent president who had chosen to run for reelection in the Federation’s history.

Indeed, Picard had been surprised to see the Grazerite choose to run again at all. Admiral Leyton had tricked him into declaring martial law, an abuse of power that led to the resignations of many high-ranking Starfleet personnel—and also to the death of Picard’s friend, Admiral Eric Hahn. (Picard himself had voted for a third candidate, Governor Rel Obertag of Betazed, whose platform was less militaristic than that of Zife.)

The summons to Earth had come just as Picard had finished viewing the opening night of Beverly Crusher’s most recent play. Her excellent production of A Christmas Carol ended its run shortly after the 2373 new year, and over the next few months, she had produced a run of a play of her own, Requiem for a Martian, based on a book that Picard had loaned to the good doctor. The latest piece was Arms and the Man, with Deputy Chief Engineer Paul Porter making an excellent Bluntschli.

When he had said that he would beam down to the Palais with his first officer and chief of security, the staff person who had made the call, an elderly Zakdorn woman, said no. “The president only wishes to speak to you, Captain Picard, and I’m afraid that Palais security will only allow you entrance to the building.”

That was that, then. Fear of changeling infiltration had caused the security in the Palais, already the most secure location in the Federation, to grow even more intense. Given that the Enterprise itself had had its security chief replaced with a changeling less than a year ago—not to mention the revelation of a few months previous that General Martok, one of the highest-ranking soldiers in the Klingon Defense Force, was also a shape-changer—Picard could hardly blame them.

So when the Enterprise arrived at Earth, Picard beamed down alone, arriving at the second-floor transporter station, and then being escorted by two members of the president’s security detail to the meeting room on the fifteenth floor. He took a seat at the far end of the large round table from the door.

And then he waited.

After an interminable period that the wall chronometer insisted was only fifteen minutes, the doors finally parted to reveal not President Zife but a short, stout Zakdorn who walked in purposefully. Behind him was an elderly woman in an admiral’s uniform whom Picard did not recognize.

“Captain Picard, my apologies for arriving late. I’m Koll Azernal, President Zife’s chief of staff, and this is our Starfleet liaison, Admiral Hong.”

Nodding, Hong said, “Captain.”

“Admiral.”

Azernal took a seat next to Picard, Hong taking the next seat after that. “The president regrets that he can’t attend this meeting, but I’m empowered to speak for him.”

For a brief moment, Picard found himself once again feeling the regret of an eight-year-old who’d hoped to meet the president, but that passed quickly. A president’s chief of staff, he knew, was very much like a captain’s first officer. Picard would have trusted Riker with a briefing if it were necessary, so Picard saw no reason not to trust Azernal.

Folding his hands on the table, Azernal gazed at Picard with intense eyes over the heavy folds of his cheeks. “We’ve had a few months to get settled in, Captain, and now it’s time we started doing the job we were elected to do. Among other things, it’s past time we improved our relationship with the Klingon Empire. We’d hoped that the exposure of the Martok changeling would have done the trick, but Gowron seems committed to remaining outside the Khitomer Accords. Your mission is to change that.”

Picard blinked. Azernal’s directness was in sharp contrast to what the captain was used to from politicians. “Mr. Azernal, I’m afraid that has been tried. When Gowron first withdrew from the Khitomer Accords—”

Holding up a hand, Azernal said, “Yes, Captain, we’re fully aware of the previous administration’s attempted use of your relationship with Gowron to change his mind—but at the time, the Martok changeling was still whispering sweet nothings in his ear. We believe that the exposure of that changeling loosened the cork. You’re just the man to finish opening the bottle.”

Letting out a long breath, Picard tugged on his uniform jacket. As the Arbiter of Succession, Picard had been the one to install Gowron as chancellor after K’mpec’s death. On more than one occasion, Gowron had trusted Picard, something the wide-eyed Klingon did not give easily, especially to a non-Klingon.

Azernal, of course, knew this, or Picard wouldn’t be here. And he was right—Gowron might be more amenable to Picard’s coaxing now. “Very well.”

“Good. Report to Deep Space 9 immediately.”

That surprised Picard. “There are bases more proximate to the Klingon border.”

“True, but DS9’s right on the cusp of the border conflict with the Cardassians—and besides, Captain Sisko also has a relationship with Gowron. He got him to back down from attacking DS9 last year, and he’s the one who exposed the Martok changeling. I’m hoping that will help.”

At that, Picard couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, but he said nothing. His issues with Sisko were personal, not professional. “Very well.”

“Besides,” Azernal added, “Bajor’s going to be an important planet in the Federation over the next several years.”

“Bajor’s not part of the Federation.”

“Not yet, no. This mission is top priority, Captain—no diversions, no side missions, understood? These are dark times ahead of us, and we need all the allies we can get. It’s vital that we and the Klingons are on the same page.”

Picard was far more curious about the hint he’d dropped regarding Bajor’s admittance to the Federation, but the Zakdorn had already moved on, so instead he said, “Mr. Azernal, it has been my experience that the Klingons, to use your metaphor, have a completely different book. What you ask may not be possible.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. And contingency plans are in place—we simply prefer not to use them.”

Picard nodded. “The Enterprise will set course for DS9 immediately.”

“Excellent.” Azernal rose to his feet, Picard doing likewise. “The president’s counting on you, Captain.”

With that, Azernal left the room.

It was only then that Hong finally spoke. “I apologize for this summons, Captain. Mr. Azernal is somewhat more…hands-on than his predecessors have been.”

“Given what James Leyton was able to accomplish, Admiral, one can perhaps understand the new administration’s desire to remind everyone that Starfleet works for the government.”

Hong’s face soured. “There was never any doubt of that.”

Picard remembered Lieutenant Daniels informing him that he’d found Eric Hahn’s body—a death that was the direct result of Leyton’s attempt do the very thing Hong was calling into doubt.

The admiral continued. “I don’t know if Azernal intends to continue skipping over links in the chain of command, but if it eases relations between Starfleet and the Federation Council, I’m certainly all for it.” She rose to her feet. “Best of luck, Captain.” She walked toward the door, then turned around. “Oh, the new administration has also made a suggestion for a new uniform design. The specifications have been transmitted to your ship’s quartermaster. Your entire crew is expected to be wearing it by the time you arrive at DS9.”

“Of course, Admiral.” Picard shook his head in disbelief. This was the fourth uniform change since he’d taken command of the Enterprise-D nine years earlier, after only one uniform change in the years since he joined Starfleet until then. And the security guards escorted him to the turbolift.

As he rode down to the second floor, Picard wondered how many more of his orders would be coming directly from the Palais from now on.

CHAPTER

2

Federation Starbase Deep Space 9

Bajoran system

Captain Benjamin Sisko was catching up on personnel reviews when the resonant voice of Lieutenant Commander Worf sounded over the speaker in his office.

“Captain, you are receiving a priority-one communiqué from Earth.”

“Starfleet Command?” Sisko asked.

“No, sir—from the Palais de la Concorde.”

That surprised Sisko. During his brief tenure as head of security on Earth a year earlier, Sisko received plenty of calls from the Palais and visited there on several occasions, most notably when he demonstrated the need for security against changeling infiltration by having Odo disguise himself as part of the furniture in the president’s office. But since returning to command of Deep Space 9 after Admiral Leyton’s abortive coup, instructions from the government tended to be filtered through the admiralty.

“Put it through, Mr. Worf.”

He activated the small viewer on his desk, and it lit up to show the Federation emblem, which was in short order replaced by the face of a Zakdorn female.

“This is Captain Sisko.”

“Hold for Koll Azernal, please, Captain.”

Back to the Federation emblem. Azernal, Sisko knew, was President Zife’s chief of staff. Sisko had dealt quite a bit with his equivalent in Jaresh-Inyo’s administration, a hyperactive unjoined Trill woman named Emra Sil. Sisko had thought rather highly of Jaresh-Inyo and felt sorry for the way he was manipulated by Leyton. Perhaps because he himself was also a victim of Leyton’s machinations, Sisko found himself voting for the Grazerite for reelection late last year.

Based on the voting results, he was one of the few.

The emblem once again faded, to be replaced by another Zakdorn face, this a male with intense eyes. Sisko recognized the face from several of President Zife’s personal appearances. “Mr. Azneral.”

“Captain. I’m calling you directly to inform you of the mission I gave the Enterprise yesterday.”

After the chief of staff finished briefing him, Sisko said, “Mr. Azernal, I appreciate your contacting me directly, but—”

“The Enterprise will arrive late tomorrow. Restoring the alliance with the Klingon Empire is one of the administration’s top priorities, Captain. Don’t let us down. Azernal out.”

For several seconds, Sisko stared at the viewer. Obviously, it was a top priority, if the chief of staff himself was going over the heads of any number of admirals to deliver Sisko his orders in person. At least I wasn’t summoned directly to the Palais like Picard was, he thought with a small smile.

The smile dropped when he thought about having to work with Picard.

Almost involuntarily, Sisko called up Picard’s service record. The picture was relatively recent, showing a head as bald as Sisko’s own, a hawk nose, and intelligent eyes.

But that wasn’t the face Sisko saw. He saw Locutus of Borg.

It had taken Sisko a long time to realize that Picard wasn’t Locutus. When they met right after he transferred to DS9, Sisko had practically jumped down the man’s throat, telling him that he was one of the few survivors of Wolf 359. Picard had recoiled as if he’d been slapped.

Shortly after that—thanks in no small part to his encounter with the wormhole aliens—they’d reached a kind of rapprochment. But they’d also never really had to work together. While they’d spoken, and while the Enterprise had docked at the station any number of times, the interactions between the two captains had been minimal.

That would likely change on this mission. In fact, Azernal had all but ordered it.

Sisko wasn’t at all sure how he felt about that. Intellectually, he knew Picard was a good captain and a good man. Worf and O’Brien both spoke of him in almost reverent tones, and neither man was one to give his loyalty cheaply.

But all Sisko could see when he stared at him was the man who murdered Jennifer.

Grabbing the baseball off his desk with one hand, he tapped his combadge with the other. “Commander Worf, Commander Dax, report to my office.”

Moments later, the Klingon and the Trill both entered, the former holding a padd in his left hand. He ordered them to take seats, then explained the mission.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Jadzia Dax said when he was done. “Gowron owes a debt of honor to both of you.”

“That is unlikely to be enough for him,” Worf said.

Gently, Dax said, “I know he cast you out of the empire, Worf, but—”

“It is not merely that,” Worf said. “During his first year in the chancellor’s chair, Gowron rewrote Klingon history, greatly downplaying the role of Captain Picard in his installation, and his support during the war against the House of Duras. While he was willing to use his relationship with the captain to suit his own ends—such as when the clone of Kahless was discovered—he was far more reluctant to return the favor.”

Sisko nodded, thoughtfully tossing the baseball back and forth between his hands. “All right, I want both of you to start thinking about ways to approach this. When the Enterprise arrives tomorrow, the three of us and Major Kira will meet with Captain Picard.”

“Aye, sir,” Worf said.

“Of course, Benjamin,” Dax added.

“Good. Dismissed.”

Worf held up the padd he’d brought in. “Sir, there is one other thing. While you were talking with Earth, we received an alert from Starfleet Intelligence. Some equipment has been stolen from an impound on Starbase 50.”

“What kind of equipment?” Sisko asked.

“It is unclear, as the thieves were able to sabotage the inventory records. However, several items used by Admiral Leyton’s co-conspirators on Starbase 375 were missing. Evidence suggests that the thieves were Klingon agents.”

Dax muttered, “That’s encouraging.”

“SI promises a full inventory of the stolen items within the day.”

Sisko nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Worf. Is there anything else?”

Worf hesitated, then spoke with clear distaste in his voice. “An alert from the quartermaster, sir. Starfleet is changing the duty uniform again.”

Both Sisko and Dax smiled at that. The latter said, “What’s wrong, Worf? Don’t like a little variety in your fashions?”

“The Klingon Defense Force has maintained their military armor for over a century.”

“And if this was the Defense Force—”

Restraining himself from throwing the baseball at his officers, Sisko said, “Enough. Worf, inform all Starfleet personnel of the change. Dismissed.”

After the two officers left, Sisko put the baseball back on its small stand. For all that he feared this mission might prove fruitless, it was necessary at least to make the attempt. The Cardassians and Romulans had been weakened by the wholesale slaughter of the Obsidian Order and Tal Shiar by the Jem’Hadar, and the Klingons and Federation being at each other’s throats for the past year and a half had likewise weakened those two nations—a state of affairs primarily brought about by the changeling disguised as Martok that they’d exposed on Ty’Gokor.

Renewing the alliance with the empire would go a long way toward reversing those defeats at the hands of the Dominion.

The next day, the Enterprise docked at the station, and in short order, Picard and Data came over to the station to meet with Sisko, Kira, Worf, and Dax in the wardroom. Picard was surprised to see that Kira was pregnant and looking very close to term.

By way of explaining the android’s presence, Picard said as he and Data took their seats, “Mr. Data will be serving as my first officer for this mission. Commander Riker, Commander La Forge, and Lieutenant Daniels are on a separate mission.”

Sisko nodded. “Very well.” Then he smiled mischieviously, an expression Picard could not recall seeing on the captain in the past. “I don’t think Quark will be terribly disappointed at Mr. Riker’s absence.”

“No doubt,” Picard said. An expert gambler, the first officer had broken the bank at Quark’s dabo table on several occasions. “Although our new Ten-Forward bartender may be calling upon him to restock the bar, as it were.” When the Enterprise was at the station last year, Amarie had obtained some Kobheerian spirits that the replicator was unable to do justice to, and she’d run out last month.

Picard looked at Sisko and Kira. “By the way, Captain, Major, you’ll be pleased to know that I received hints from Koll Azernal that Bajor’s admittance to the Federation may be happening in fairly short order.”

Kira straightened. “What kind of hints?”

“Simply an inference from the conversation we had at the Palais. It’s possible my inference is incorrect.”

Data added, “However, it would be consistent with the policies of strengthening the Federation that have been applied by the Zife administration since they took office.”

“In that case, I wish you people had elected him sooner,” Kira said wryly.

Picard said, “It could, of course, simply be a political ploy, a method of improving the Federation’s strategic position with regard to the wormhole.”

“The reasons don’t matter in this case,” Sisko said.

“Back when I took this assignment, you told me that Bajor’s entry into the Federation was the long-term goal.”

Kira shot Sisko a look. “He did?”

“I did,” Picard said. “Is that a problem, Major?”

At first Kira opened her mouth to speak, then shut it. Then: “If you’d asked me that four years ago, Captain, I’d have said yes. Now, though…”

“We’ll see what happens,” Sisko said quickly. “I for one would prefer to wait until someone higher up the food chain than a starship captain informs me.”

Picard winced. “Of course.”

After an awkward pause, Sisko said, “Commanders Worf and Dax have a proposal for how to approach Gowron.”

Taking the cue, Dax leaned forward in her chair. “Since Ty’Gokor, we’ve been regularly sending messages to Qo’noS, asking for an opening of negotiations. Just sending another message would probably be met with the same resounding silence we’ve been getting for months.”

Worf picked up the ball. “We believe that it would be best to bring the Defiant to the Federation-Klingon border and send the High Council a message that comes from both captains, requesting a formal audience with Chancellor Gowron.”

“Why not the Enterprise?” Picard asked.

Before either Worf or Dax could reply, Data said, “I believe I can answer that, sir. The Defiant is a warship, and the most tactically powerful vessel in Starfleet. The High Council would view such a vessel with more respect than they would the Enterprise.”

Picard found he could not argue with that logic. “Very well.”

Kira added, “If the Defiant’s not going to be around, I’d feel a lot better with the Enterprise watching the station’s back.”

“That will be your task, Mr. Data,” Picard said.

“Aye, sir,” the android said.

There was another pause before Sisko said, “I suggest we depart immediately. Mr. Azernal made it clear to me that President Zife considers this mission of the highest priority.”

“To me, as well,” Picard said with a nod.

Worf said, “The Defiant will be ready for departure in twenty minutes.”

“Grand.” Picard got to his feet. “I will meet you there.”

He left the wardroom quickly, Data on his heels. As soon as the door shut behind them, Data said, “Sir, I could not help but notice that there was a certain awkwardness between you and Captain Sisko.”

Picard sighed. “I could not help but notice it either, Data. I’m afraid that the…baggage we each carry regarding each other has remained.”

“Sir, you are not responsible for the death of Captain Sisko’s wife.”

Smiling sadly as they approached the turbolift, Picard said, “Far easier to say, Data, than to feel.” They entered the turbolift. “Docking ring.”

CHAPTER

3

U.S.S. Defiant

Federation-Klingon border

When Picard had first seen the specifications for the Defiant-class vessels, he had been less than impressed.

Starfleet’s primary mission had always been exploration. While Starfleet was obviously a military organization, with its rank structure and internal regulations and enforcement, it was never militaristic. Its function was to keep the peace, not start the wars.

The Defiant flew in the face of that. It was, at its heart, a very big gun. Phasers more powerful than those of any starship, a huge complement of quantum torpedoes, a considerable amount of power channeled into a stripped-down vessel bereft of anything but the bare minimum necessary to let the ship function. The sickbay in the specs was also fairly inadequate, which Picard had thought to be shortsighted. As it happened, the sickbay on the Defiant itself was considerably upgraded from the specs he’d seen, no doubt the work of DS9’s chief medical officer.

Picard had objected to Starfleet Command’s decision to construct the Defiant. Command, of course, ignored him, and did so with surprise, since Picard, of all people, knew why the Defiant had been built in the first place: as a weapon to use against the Borg.

Now Picard stood to the right of the command chair, where Sisko sat. Picard had to admit that his fellow captain looked like he belonged in that chair. Sisko’s well-deserved promotion to captain had been long overdue, in Picard’s opinion.

From the conn, Dax said, “Defiant to ops, requesting permission to disembark.”

Kira’s voice sounded over the speakers. “Ops here. Permission granted. Good luck, Defiant.”

From one of the side consoles, O’Brien muttered, “We’re gonna need it.”

“Now now, Chief,” Sisko said. “No sense in going into this with a negative mind-set.”

“Hard not to, sir. If blowing up a changeling in front of the Klingons didn’t convince ’em to rejoin the alliance, I can’t imagine this would.” He turned around. “No offense, sirs, but if you ask me, this is a waste of time.”

Picard said, “Our orders came directly from the Palais, Chief.”

“Oh, well, that explains it,” O’Brien said with a chuckle. “Politicians and wastes of time go together like butter on bread.”

Dax said, “That’s why I eat my toast plain.”

Sisko frowned. “What about that spiced jelly I made for you?”

Briefly turning around, Dax said, “That works better on galzak.” Then she turned back fore. “We’ve cleared moorings.”

“Ahead half-impulse,” Sisko said. “Set course for the Klingon border and engage at warp nine when we’re clear of the station.”

Dax simply nodded.

Worf turned to Dax. “Galzak is not food fit for a warrior.”

Sisko added with a grin, “Or for my spiced jelly. An English muffin at least, old man.”

“What can I tell you? I’m an epicurean heathen.”

Picard marveled at the banter. While he had become far more relaxed with his own senior staff over the years, this level of casual byplay was not something he’d ever expect to hear on the Enterprise bridge.

He was especially surprised to see it from Worf—though, based on the looks he’d seen the Klingon exchange with Dax, he suspected that there was more to it than that. The only other time Worf had been this relaxed was when he’d been dating Counselor Troi on the Enterprise-D—a relationship that had ended shortly after that vessel crashed.

To Dax, Picard said, “ETA to the border, Commander?”

“Three hours, five minutes.”

Picard nodded. “I’ll be in my cabin, Captain.”

Sisko nodded back, and Picard turned and left the bridge.

He imagined that Sisko breathed a sigh of relief at that. It was always awkward when two captains stood on the bridge, and even though this was Sisko’s ship, Picard was senior to him. In fact, Picard had been the one to give Sisko the assignment to DS9 four years earlier.

It was his fond hope that they would avoid any command conflicts during this mission. One way to prevent that was to let Sisko be the only person in the room who would respond to the word “Captain” for as long as they were en route.

Of course, for all he knew, Sisko hadn’t felt awkward at all—but dammit, Picard did. Being near Sisko was like dancing on eggshells.

Sighing, he entered the cabin that he would be sharing with Worf—space truly was at a premium on this ship—and called up the most recent issue of the Journal of Archaeological Studies. He had at least three hours to kill, after all.

As it turned out, it was considerably more than three hours.

The Defiant’s arrival at the Klingon border was met with indifference, and their attempts at communicating with the High Council—or, indeed, anyone on Qo’noS—were met with silence, at least for the first twenty hours.

After getting a restless night’s sleep in the tiny cabin—Worf snored—Picard went to the mess hall to get some breakfast.

He saw O’Brien sitting alone, reading over a padd. After getting a croissant with icoberry jam and an Earl Grey tea from the replicator, Picard approached his erstwhile transporter chief. “May I join you, Chief?”

“Hm?” O’Brien looked up with an annoyed expression, then saw who it was. His face falling, he rose to his feet awkwardly and said, “Of course, Captain!”

Picard smiled. “At ease, Mr. O’Brien.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m just going over the maintenance schedule. The Defiant’s a fine ship, but she’s a bit overpowered. We’ve gotten most of the kinks out of her—but most isn’t all.” Sitting back down to his black coffee and steak and eggs, O’Brien set the padd aside. “I was actually sorry that Commander La Forge wasn’t on board. I would’ve liked his input on some plasma leakage we’ve been having, and some communications issues as well.” After a hesitation, he added, “Actually, if Lieutenant Porter’s available…”

Remembering that La Forge, Porter, and Barclay had all worked with O’Brien and a pair of his engineers the last time they were at the station, Picard said, “Of course. Put in a request with Mr. Data when we return to the station.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“How are Keiko and Molly?”

O’Brien’s face lit up the room. “They’re doing fine. And we’re expecting another.”

“Yes, I’d heard. It seems to be an epidemic on the station.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I noticed that Major Kira is also expecting.”

“Ah.” O’Brien squirmed a bit. “Actually, that’s…that’s Keiko’s and my baby. See, there was a shuttle accident, and Keiko was badly hurt. Julian—Dr. Bashir—was forced to move the fetus into the major.”

Picard blinked. “I see. That was quite selfless of Major Kira.”

“Don’t I know it.” He sipped his coffee. “She’s expecting in the next month or so.”

“How is Molly handling the news of a sibling?”

Chuckling, O’Brien asked, “What time is it? She’s had every possible reaction across the spectrum.”

“Well, at least Mr. Worf is available to be midwife once again,” Picard said with a mischievious smile of his own.

“Don’t tell him that. When Keiko announced she was pregnant—well, I’d never seen quite that look on the commander’s face before.”

Picard laughed, picturing that very expression. Worf was, in his experience, far too easily nonplussed. Though he had done yeoman work delivering Molly O’Brien during a disaster on the Enterprise-D, it was, Picard was sure, not an experience the Klingon was eager to repeat.

O’Brien and Picard talked a bit more, catching up on various bits of gossip. The captain found it oddly refreshing. He’d always admired O’Brien’s friendly professionalism and had been sorry to see him go. By the same token, the opportunity to become chief of operations of DS9 was too good for him to pass up, and he decided to say as much: “The job here suits you, Chief. Aside from the day I married you to Keiko, I don’t recall seeing you so happy.”

“Don’t get me wrong, sir—the job does have its frustrations. But it’s been great serving with…with all these people,” he finished lamely.

“Chief, I won’t hold it against you if you say you like serving with your captain.”

“I guess I’ve been lucky, sir—I’ve served with the two best captains in Starfleet.”

Picard thought it would be impolitic to point out that O’Brien had said the exact same thing to Picard once before—only then, the other captain was Ben Maxwell, who was soon thereafter disgraced.

He was spared the need to in any case, as Worf’s voice sounded over the intercom. “Worf to Picard. We are receiving a signal from the High Council.”

“Gowron?”

“No, sir—K’Tal.”

“Interesting. I’ll be right up.”

Both Picard and O’Brien got to their feet. “Who’s K’Tal, sir?”

“A very old, very respected councillor,” Picard said as they moved down the corridor toward the bridge.

“He supervised Gowron’s installation during the civil war against the House of Duras. In fact, forty years ago, he served as Chancellor Ditagh’s Arbiter of Succession.”

O’Brien chuckled. “I bet he had an easier time of it than you did.”

“One would assume, yes,” Picard said dryly. He was the first non-Klingon to serve in that role, appointed it by Gowron’s predecessor K’mpec shortly before his death six years ago.

When they entered the bridge, Sisko was already in the command chair, Dax at conn. O’Brien moved to sit next to Worf at one of the tactical stations to the captain’s right.

Picard’s instinct was to ask for a report, but he bit it back. This wasn’t his ship.

“Mr. Worf,” Sisko said, “what can you tell me about K’Tal?”

Worf turned to face his CO. “He has served on the High Council longer than anyone still living, and he has served with honor.”

Dax added, “Curzon dealt with him a few times—I think we can trust him.” Picard recalled that the Trill’s previous host was a Federation diplomat who had a reputation for succesfully dealing with the Klingon Empire.

Sisko nodded, then turned to Picard. “Ready, Captain?”

Picard nodded.

Turning back toward the main screen, Sisko said, “On screen, Mr. Worf.”

The starfield was replaced by that of K’Tal’s elderly, imposing visage. “Greetings, Captain Picard, Captain Sisko. I assume this channel is secure.”

“Our nations are at war, Councillor,” Sisko said. “All channels are secure right now.”

“A wise move. These are difficult times in the empire.”

Picard stepped forward, being careful not to move ahead of where Sisko was. “For the Federation as well, K’Tal. It is our hope that we can move past our difficulties and become allies once again.”

“Gowron chose to withdraw from the Khitomer Accords, Captain. That decision was not made lightly. However, he thinks very highly of both of you, and it is for that reason—and that reason alone—that he is willing to meet.”

“Excellent,” Picard said.

K’Tal held up a hand. “Do not be so quick to agree, Picard. Gowron’s conditions are specific and nonnegotiable. He will meet with you and Sisko—and only you and Sisko. You must travel in one of your vessel’s shuttlecraft to a planet in the Badlands of Gowron’s choosing. He, in turn, will travel in a Defense Force shuttlepod, accompanied only by a single bodyguard. There, he will…discuss with you the possibility of our nations being allies once again.”

Picard hesitated. “K’Tal, there is no need for this. We are willing to—”

“I have given you the terms, Picard. I am aware that you are not empowered to make this decision alone. Consult with your superiors. Return to these coordinates in one day. I will contact you again and request your answer. Should that answer be yes, I will provide the exact location of the planet.”

With that, K’Tal broke off communications.

Dax turned around and shook her head. “And brusque. Did I forget to mention he was brusque?”

“I have found, Commander,” Picard said, “that such is a given with Klingon warriors.” Glancing at Worf, he added, “Present company included.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Worf deadpanned, which prompted a chuckle from several people on the bridge.

Sisko turned to look at Picard. “What do you think?”

Thoughtfully rubbing his chin, Picard said, “Having the meeting in the Badlands works to our advantage, actually—the plasma storms neutralize Klingon cloaking devices.”

“They also can neutralize a shuttlecraft,” Sisko said gravely.

“True.” Picard sighed. “We have no proof that Gowron will come alone with but a single bodyguard. Indeed, that would be quite out of character.”

Sisko nodded. “Well, this isn’t our mission. Chief, put a call through to Earth.”

O’Brien winced. “Er, we can’t, sir.”

“Why not?”

“The Zife administration has established new security protocols for contacting Earth. We can do it from the station, but the Defiant comm systems haven’t taken to the changes.” He glanced at Picard. “That was one of the things I wanted Mr. Porter’s help with, sir.”

Picard looked at Sisko. “K’Tal did give us an entire day.”

Sisko folded his hands together, his index fingers steepled and pressed against his chin. “All right. Dax, set course for the station. Then we’ll have a talk with Mr. Azernal.”

CHAPTER

4

Federation Starbase Deep Space 9

Bajoran system

Sisko stared impatiently at the face of Koll Azernal on the oval-shaped viewer in ops. Part of the impatience was borne of the fact that it had taken O’Brien twenty minutes to set the comm line up, and another fifteen for Azernal to be available. But mostly it was impatience with the man himself.

“Captains, why are you even wasting my time with this? This is exactly what we were hoping for.”

Picard’s face showed an incredulity that Sisko shared. “Mr. Azernal, meeting Gowron alone on a planet in the Badlands is hardly what a reasonable person can ‘hope for’ when trying to negotiate an alliance.”

“Gowron’s position is tenuous. He has to be careful. Besides, the Badlands are a secure location.”

“And a dangerous one,” Sisko said. “Dozens of ships have gone missing and presumed destroyed in the Badlands—including the U.S.S. Voyager, which was specifically designed to navigate the plasma storms.”

“Yes, but Gowron’s taking the same risk as you.”

“If this is not a trick,” Worf said.

“It isn’t.” Azernal looked away for a moment and said, “One moment, please.” Then he looked back.

“You don’t have all the facts, gentlemen. We’ve received a few feelers from the High Council about possibly renewing the alliance—those feelers have come from K’Tal.”

Sisko blinked. “You might have mentioned that.”

“They were just feelers, nothing concrete. This, however, is concrete. Either way, we know K’Tal can be trusted.”

“With respect, sir,” Worf said tightly, “I disagree. Yes, Councillor K’Tal is an honorable man, but we do not know that the communication came from K’Tal. While the message originated from the Great Hall, it did not contain any identifiers that would verify that it came from the House of K’Tal or from the High Council.”

“That could’ve been for security reasons,” Azernal said.

“Or,” Picard said, “it could have been someone wishing us to believe it was K’Tal in order to get Captain Sisko and myself into the Badlands alone.”

“You think very highly of yourself, do you, Captain?”

Sisko bristled at the insult, for all that it wasn’t directed at him.

To his credit, Picard didn’t flinch. “Not at all, sir, but the very connections to the chancellor that make us the best candidates to talk to him also make us potential targets for those in the empire who wish our nations to remain at odds.”

“Gowron himself told us on Ty’Gokor that there were those in the empire who felt that way,” Sisko added.

“Maybe, but the president wants this meeting—therefore you will take it. Is that understood? I expect you to take the Defiant to the border and agree to K’Tal’s terms, and then take one of the ship’s shuttles to the Badlands.”

Kira suddenly stepped forward. “Excuse me, but we should make at least one change.”

Azernal frowned. “You’re the liaison officer with Bajor, yes? Major Kira?”

If Kira was flattered to be recognized, she typically didn’t show it. “Yes. I know the Badlands, and I know the Defiant shuttles. They’ll get ripped apart. We should at least let the captains go in a runabout. They’ve got stronger shields and are more maneuverable.”

“I’d run it by K’Tal before committing, but that’s a sound idea, Major. Have one of your runabouts ready to go. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for a meeting with the security council. The next time I hear from you people, I expect it to be to inform me of a renewed alliance.”

This communication was cut off as abruptly as K’Tal’s had been.

Kira shook her head. “And I thought the chamber of ministers was full of blowhards.”

Picard let out a breath. “I have found, Major, that it is endemic to the breed. And thank you for the suggestion of taking a runabout.”

She looked at Sisko. “Just doing what I can to protect the Emissary.”

Sisko chuckled. “And the Emissary appreciates it. Is the Rio Grande ready to go, Mr. O’Brien?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. She’s still out on that mineral survey.”

Sisko turned to Dax. “You told me they’d be back this morning.”

Dax winced. “They were supposed to be, but—”

Holding up a hand, Sisko said, “Never mind. What about the Zambesi?”

O’Brien said, “She’s ready to go on Pad C, sir.”

Looking at Picard and indicating the turbolift, Sisko said, “Shall we?”

“Indeed.”

As they approached the turbolift, Sisko said, “Mr. Worf, take the Defiant back to the border, let K’Tal know we’re on our way to the Badlands. As soon as you have the coordinates, send them along.”

“Aye, sir.”

Stepping in next to Picard and turning around, Sisko said, “Major, keep the home fires burning. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I hope so, Captain. Good luck—to both of you.”

“Runabout Pad C,” Sisko said, and the lift started downward.

CHAPTER

5

Runabout Zambesi

On the periphery of the Badlands

The trip to the Badlands went into the sleep cycles of both captains. Thanks to DS9 keeping Bajoran time, with their twenty-six-hour day, those cycles were several hours off from each other, so both captains were able to get a full eight hours of sleep.

It also spared Sisko the need to hold a conversation with Jean-Luc Picard. It was fine as long as they were discussing duty-related things, but being in a runabout with him for so long? Sisko had no idea what to even say to the man. Leaving aside his reputation in Starfleet, there was always Locutus between them. Every time he looked at Picard’s face, he saw Jennifer’s killer.

Once both men had slept their fill, however, there was no way to avoid it. Picard ordered some Earl Grey tea from the replicator. Sisko had already procured a raktajino.

As he took the copilot’s seat, Picard said, “I take it there’s no word?”

Shaking his head, Sisko said, “Not yet. Worf contacted us half an hour ago with nothing to report. Oh, and your Mr. Data also called in with a similar report.”

Picard smiled. “Both Data and Worf are quite the sticklers for regulations.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Sisko hesitated, then said; “He and O’Brien have both been invaluable to the station.”

“I’m not surprised. I’d always considered both of them to be among my most reliable personnel.”

Sisko found he had nothing to add to that and sipped from his raktajino cup.

After several seconds, Picard said, “I was hoping to get the chance to see the aqueduct before we leave.”

Frowning, Sisko said, “I’m sorry?”

“Shortly after you took over, the Enterprise-D came to the station to help install an aqueduct.”

“Right.” Sisko had, in fact, completely forgotten that the Enterprise had been involved in that project and wondered what that said about his lingering feelings about Picard. Probably the same thing that not wanting to talk to him says. “It’s working quite well, actually. The farms in Lotha Province are almost back at the levels they were before the Cardassians created that mine.”

“Grand.”

Another pause.

“You’ve done fine work here, Captain. I’m pleased that you stuck with the assignment.”

“So am I,” Sisko said, and this he could say with conviction.

“I was, however, surprised to learn that you’ve become a figure in the Bajorans’ religion.”

Now Sisko tensed. “I’m simply the person who discovered the Celestial Temple, Captain. And I’ve already had the ‘cultural contamination’ lecture from Starfleet Command.”

“I’ve no intention of lecturing you,” Picard said snappishly. “However, I do have a certain amount of experience in these matters.”

That caught Sisko off guard. “What do you mean?”

Picard hesitated. “Several years ago, on Mintaka III, I was worshipped as a god. Apparently I had fulfilled a prophecy of theirs. It was purely circumstance, but the Mintakans mistook our technology for divinity. It took a great deal of effort to convince them that I was not their god.” He took a sip of his tea. “This is not to say you should do likewise. I simply wish to say that I’m aware of the burden you carry.”

“It’s no burden,” Sisko said, and he surprised himself with the words. “I admit, I wasn’t very comfortable with the way so many Bajorans treated me at first. But the Bajorans…” He smiled. “They have a way of getting to you.”

Picard nodded. “They do, rather, don’t they?”

“You told me when I took this assignment that Bajor meant a great deal to you. I’d say after four years, they mean at least as much to me. If that means they call me ‘Emissary’ and hang on my every word, I’m not about to dissuade them. Being Emissary is a responsibility, and it’s one I take as seriously as my responsibilities as a Starfleet officer.” He sipped his Klingon coffee. “Respectfully, it isn’t the same thing as what you went through, Captain. The Bajorans don’t worship me, and my being Emissary isn’t due to an accidental concatenation of circumstance. I did find the Celestial Temple. I am the Emissary.”

Before Picard could respond to that, the comm line beeped and Worf’s voice sounded over the speakers. “Defiant to Zambesi.”

Sisko reached for the comm line like a dying man leaping at a life preserver. “Zambesi here. Go ahead, Mr. Worf.”

“K’Tal sent an automated message with the coordinates for the planet. We’re forwarding it now.”

Looking down at the status board, Sisko saw that a file was coming in on the same subspace frequency as the message. “Receiving coordinates now.”

“Captain—I do not like this. Request permission to set course for the Badlands—the Defiant should be there as a reinforcement, should—”

“No,” Sisko said before Worf could finish. “It’s too risky. Report back to the station, Commander.”

“Aye, sir. Defiant out.”

Picard gave a half smile. “That was Worf’s I’m-only-following-this-order-because-I-respect-the-chain-of-command voice.”

Sisko couldn’t help but bark a laugh at that as he input the coordinates the Klingon had sent into the conn. “He uses that voice a lot.”

“He always has. Right after we took the Enterprise-D out, we had to separate the saucer. I gave Worf command of the saucer section while I proceeded to the battle bridge. He didn’t take it well.”

“I can imagine. Course set for B’Leva.” Sisko engaged the impulse engines. “Worf’s like a kid in a candy store with the Defiant.”

“Not surprising.” Picard’s half smile became a full one. “Right after that, Worf almost blasted a hole in the main viewer when Q’s face appeared in it.”

“I’ve met Q, I don’t blame him.”

“Yes, I heard about that. I must apologize.”

That confused Sisko. “Why?”

“Q—” Picard hesitated. “I always felt he was my responsibility. That if it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be making so much trouble for Starfleet.”

“He hasn’t been around since that first time.” Sisko smiled. “Probably because I decked him.”

Sisko wished he had an imager to capture the expression on Picard’s face. “I beg your pardon?” the other captain said incredulously.

“I decked him,” Sisko repeated proudly. “Didn’t help matters any—but it felt good.”

“I shall have to remember that.”

Sisko tried to imagine Picard decking Q as he had. The image wouldn’t take. Instead he said, “Q is hardly your responsibility, Captain.”

“Perhaps not.”

Picard didn’t sound very convinced.

Within the hour, they were at the planet in question. Accessing the library computer, Sisko said, “B’Leva was used as a ship repair station by the Bajoran resistance during the Cardassian occupation. It’s unused now.”

Nodding, Picard said, “I was afraid we would be sent to a Maquis stronghold.”

“If it is, we haven’t heard about it. And I’d think Gowron would want to avoid the Maquis as well. The Klingons are probably better informed about the Maquis than we are, given that they’ve been supplying them.”

Picard nodded. “My first officer’s away mission is to track down a possible handoff between the Klingons and the Maquis.”

Sisko whirled on his fellow captain. Remembering the theft of the Defiant two years earlier, he said, “Are you sure that was a good idea?”

Sounding somewhat defensive, Picard said, “Absolutely. I understand that your experiences with Thomas Riker were not pleasant, but, genetics notwithstanding, my first officer is a different person.”

“I hope so.” He looked away. “The Maquis have proved to be very…seductive.” He thought about his old friend Cal Hudson, phasering his Starfleet uniform into oblivion.

“I’m quite aware, believe me,” Picard said in a quiet voice. Sisko supposed that he, too, had lost comrades to the Maquis.

The sensor alarm beeped, again saving Sisko. “Klingon vessel approaching. Registers as a Defense Force shuttlepod.” Sisko noted that, just as K’Tal’s communication contained no ID tag that specified that it was from the High Council, this vessel contained nothing to indicate that it belonged to the chancellor. Normally, a person of Gowron’s importance would travel with more pomp and circumstance—or at least what passed for such among Klingons.

If this mission was truly attempting to be covert, as Azernal seemed to believe, then that made sense. But as Worf had pointed out, that could also mean that this entire thing was a trap.

Sisko found himself second-guessing his refusal to let Worf bring the Defiant to the Badlands. But if this was genuine, the sight of the Defiant would likely send Gowron back to the empire. Sisko had dealt with Gowron long enough to know that he was prickly at the best of times.

“They’re hailing us,” Picard said, and Sisko saw that a signal was coming in, though it was a bit weak. No doubt the plasma storms were interfering with communications.

Opening a channel, Sisko said, “This is the U.S.S. Zambesi.”

The screen to Sisko’s right lit up with the wide-eyed face of Chancellor Gowron, though there was interference around the edge of the signal. “Sisko. Picard. We meet again.”

Before Sisko could speak, Picard said, “Thank you for agreeing to see us, Chancellor.”

“I was not sure you would agree to my terms. That you did bespeaks the urgency of your mission.”

“I told you when your fleet attacked my station, Gowron,” Sisko said. “Our remaining enemies play right into the Founders’ hands.”

“So you have insisted. We will land on B’Leva and talk further.”

Two different sensor alarms went off simultaneously. Sisko saw that a plasma storm was heading right for their position.

He said, “Plasma storm approaching,” just as Picard said, “Gowron, why are you arming weapons?”

The world exploded a moment later…

CHAPTER

6

B’Leva

The Badlands

“I am Locutus of Borg.”

The Borg are relentless. They take everything away, systematically, meticulously, relentlessly.

“Resistance is futile.”

Phaser fire does no good.

Torpedoes do no good.

Starfleet throws everything it has, and it does no good.

“Your life as it has been is over.”

You’re helpless before their onslaught, impotent to stop them from destroying what you hold most dear.

“From this time forward you will service us.”

Jean-Luc Picard woke up screaming.

A deep, reassuring voice said, “It’s all right.”

The smell of burning conduits and plasma fire assaulted Picard’s nostrils. A shiver passed through his body. Looking around, he saw that he was strapped into the Zambesi’s copilot seat—but that seat was halfway back, near the transporter station, which was itself a pile of smoking rubble. Looking over at the forward window, he saw only white. After a moment, he realized that it was snow. His sensor sweep of B’Leva had revealed that the northern hemisphere was in the grip of a particuarly brutal winter season, and apparently that was where they had landed.

Or, rather, crashed. “What happened?”

Sisko was applying a hypospray to his own arm as he spoke. “Plasma storm. It came out of nowhere, took out both ships. We crashed.”

“But we survived. Well done, Captain.”

“Thank you, but we’re not quite out of the woods yet. The Zambesi’s a complete wreck. Comm systems are down, and hull integrity is too low to even consider taking off—even if the engines were online.” He let out an annoyed growl. “I should’ve known this would happen as soon as O’Brien said the Rio Grande was unavailable.”

“What do you mean?” Picard undid the straps—which he didn’t remember putting on, but he remembered nothing since noticing that Gowron had armed weapons—and tried to stand up. Pain sliced through his chest.

“Careful!” Sisko said, walking over with the medkit.

“You cracked a couple of ribs from the straps.”

Picard nodded. A necessary evil—had he not worn the straps, his injuries would likely have been fatal. He stood up more slowly.

“You delivered three runabouts to the station when we took over. The Rio Grande is the only one of those three that’s still intact. I’ve lost track of the number that have been damaged beyond repair, crashed, or destroyed in the last four years, but the Rio Grande has been the Little Engine That Could. That’s why I requested it for this mission, to avoid this.”

Knowing that the other captain wouldn’t appreciate a discourse on the dangers of superstitions, Picard started to gingerly undo his uniform jacket and said only, “If I could trouble you, Captain?”

“Of course.” Sisko took out a bandage from the medkit while Picard stripped to the waist. A bone knitter was too specialized a piece of equipment to trust to an emergency medkit. If someone untrained tried to use it, there was a very real risk of fusing body parts. Starfleet Medical thought it best to stick with bandages for emergencies until such a time as a doctor or medtech could knit the bones.

“When you screamed like that,” Sisko said, “I was afraid you had an injury the tricorder missed.”

“Simply a nightmare,” Picard said quietly. “A fairly common one these past seven years, truth be told.”

Sisko said nothing. Picard knew that the man could count, and could probably guess what the tenor of Picard’s nightmares were.

“It still haunts you?” Sisko finally said.

“Constantly.” Picard’s voice was ragged, and he cleared his throat. “There are times when it fades, but it never goes away completely.” When Sisko finished bandaging his ribs, Picard turned to face the younger man. “Captain—I don’t expect you to forgive me for what happened to your wife.”

Sisko hesitated, and Picard saw a range of emotions play across the man’s face in an instant. Finally: “I don’t blame you. I blame the Borg. I won’t lie, seeing you is a constant reminder, and not a pleasant one. But it was the Borg that took Jennifer from me, not you, Captain.”

Picard let out a long breath, which made his chest hurt. “I think we’re past the point of ranks, don’t you? If anyone’s earned the right to call me ‘Jean-Luc,’ it’s you.”

At that, Sisko inclined his head. “And you can call me ‘Captain Sisko.’” Picard felt his face fall and only then did Sisko break into a huge smile. “Or ‘Ben.’”

Then Picard laughed, though it hurt like blazes. “Very well, Captain Sisko, let us see if Gowron survived his encounter with the plasma storm. I’d very much like to know why he felt the need to arm his pod’s weapons.”

“Agreed, Jean-Luc.”

It took an hour to pack up supplies from the runabout’s emergency kit. Luckily, Starfleet was thorough. There were enough combat rations to last a month, a dozen hand phasers and half a dozen phaser rifles, a shelter, and thermal jackets. According to the tricorder, Gowron’s ship had crashed four kilometers away—but also on the other side of a mountain. It would take most of a day to get there.

The pod was also sending an automated distress signal.

As they put the packs on their backs, Sisko said, “I have to admit, I’m not too sanguine about what kind of rescue we’d get from the Klingons.”

“Better than no rescue at all,” Picard said, and Sisko found he couldn’t argue with that, especially once they left the runabout’s confines.

Wind bit into Sisko’s eyes and the cold air seared his lungs as he inhaled. The snow came up to his ankles, and the effort of lifting his feet to walk proved far more difficult than he’d imagined.

All of it was made worse by the pounding in his head. The hypo he’d applied was supposed to ease the discomfort of the concussion he’d suffered in the crash, but ten seconds in this blizzard and the pain was back.

“Are you all right, Ben?”

Sisko barely heard Picard’s voice, even though he was shouting. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Let’s move.”

CHAPTER

7

Federation Starbase Deep Space 9

Bajoran system

Worf approached the office slowly. He was not entirely sure that he was not engaging in a fool’s errand. He also knew that he could probably do what he wished to do on his own authority as strategic operations officer of the station, but he respected Kira Nerys too much to do that.

So he touched the door chime. It opened a moment later.

Kira was leaning as far back in Sisko’s chair as she could and reading over a padd. “What can I do for you, Commander?”

“I wish to summon Cadet Nog to ops, as well as Commander Data from the Enterprise.”

Frowning, Kira asked, “What for?”

Worf hesitated. “To go over the communication K’Tal made to the Defiant.”

Kira smiled. “That would be the same communication you’ve been going over for the last day?”

“Yes,” Worf said tightly. “However, Nog’s hearing is far greater than that of most humanoids, and Data also has perceptions beyond what—”

Holding up a hand, Kira said, “It’s all right, Worf. Do it. I’m with you; this whole thing has seemed wrong from the start.”

“Thank you, Major.”

“Any word from the captain?”

“Not yet. Nor is there any new information from the probe.”

Looking quizzically at him, Kira asked, “What probe?”

Again, Worf hesitated. “Before returning to the station from the border, I ordered the Defiant to send a class-8 probe to the Badlands to…monitor the situation.”

Kira smiled. “Good idea. Let me know what happens with K’Tal’s message.”

Nodding, Worf went back to ops. “Chief, contact the Enterprise and ask Commander Data to beam to ops.”

O’Brien smiled from his station. “She said yes, huh?”

Worf did not dignify that with a reply but instead tapped his combadge. “Worf to Nog.”

“Nog here.”

“Report to ops immediately, Cadet.”

“Aye, sir.”

Within minutes, Ferengi and android had joined Worf, O’Brien, and Dax at the chief’s station.

“This,” Worf said, “is the communication that K’Tal sent to the Defiant.” He nodded to O’Brien, who began the playback.

“Greetings, Captain Picard, Captain Sisko. I assume this channel is secure.”

“Sir,” Nog said, “do you have a recording that you know is K’Tal?”

Worf looked at Dax, who said, “We don’t have any recent High Council sessions, but we’ve still got a bunch from before the empire pulled out of the accords.” She touched several controls on her console.

“A visual record also, please,” Data said.

“Do you see something, Commander?” Worf asked.

Data winced, something Worf was not used to seeing from the android. He’d had his emotion chip for only a short time, and Worf hadn’t served with him for hardly any of it, so an emotional Data was still an oddity to him. “At the moment it is only a hypothesis.”

The main viewer showed a High Council session. K’Tal was standing in the center. “It is my belief that Governor Torrik was wholly justified in his actions and that he should remain in his post, and that no action be taken against him or the House of Hurgoh, which has served the empire honorably since the days of Chancellor Sturka.”

“That isn’t the same voice,” Nog said emphatically.

“Sounds the same to me,” Dax said.

“It’s very close—one of the best forgeries I’ve ever heard.”

O’Brien stared at the young Ferengi. “How many have you heard, kid?”

“Um—”

Data smiled—another oddity to Worf—and said,

“Cadet Nog is correct. There are also minute discrepancies in the visual record. Commander Dax, what is the date of that recording?”

Dax checked her console. “Stardate 48876.”

“While it is true,” Data said, “that some Klingons undergo minute changes in their cranial ridges over time, I do not believe there is any documented case of all ridges decreasing depth by 4.2 centimeters over so small a time span as one year, nine months, and five days. The image sent to the Defiant is based on images of K’Tal but does not have the full depth of resolution for a perfect match.”

“So who did contact us?” O’Brien asked.

“Someone who wished to lure both captains into a trap.” Worf tapped his combadge. “Major Kira, please report to ops.”

Kira came slowly out of the captain’s office a moment later. “What did you find?”

“The communication from K’Tal was a fake,” Worf said.

Nog said, “But that wasn’t a holo-filter. It was a call from someone who’d disguised himself to look and sound like K’Tal. It was really good, too.”

“I believe I know the source of the technology,” Data said. “It is based on equipment used by a woman named Ardra, and which was used by Captain Snowden and Cadet Nomine on Starbase 375 during Admiral Leyton’s coup attempt.”

Worf put it together. “The equipment stolen from Starbase 50.”

“Yes.”

Looking at Kira, Worf said, “We must take the Defiant to the Badlands.”

“No,” Kira said. “The Enterprise should go, but I want the Defiant here. If the Klingons—or Klingon agents, or whoever—are going after Captain Sisko, they may be after the station next. I don’t want to leave us vulnerable.”

Data said, “I will depart immediately.”

Dax’s console beeped. “Better make it fast, Commander,” she said. “The probe Worf left behind? It’s picking up a Klingon bird-of-prey heading for the Badlands at warp seven.”

“Understood.” Data walked to the transporter platform. “Energize.”

O’Brien sent him back to the Enterprise. Part of Worf wished he was going with them. It galled him to stay behind while two of the humans he respected most in the galaxy were in danger—but Kira was also correct. Whatever was being planned here was likely bigger than simply trapping Sisko and Picard, and the station needed to be protected.

As much because he needed to do something, he looked at Dax. “We should contact the High Council with this information.”

“You really think they’ll believe us?”

“No.” Worf knew firsthand how fickle the High Council was. They were the ones who were all too willing to condemn Worf’s own father for aiding the Romulan attack on Khitomer in order to protect a high-ranking councillor, whose father was the true traitor. “However, we should inform them in any event.”

“Dax is right,” Kira said. “They’re not gonna listen. You’d be better off talking to someone you know and trust, who can relay the message to the council.”

Worf and Dax stared at each other and simultaneously said, “Kor.”

Kira’s face scrunched up. “That old drunk?”

Dax said, “Kor may be an old drunk, but he’s an old drunk who’s a Dahar Master. It’s worth a shot.”

Kira shrugged. “Fine, track him down.”

Data’s voice sounded over the comm line. “Enterprise to ops. Request permission to disembark.”

After nodding to O’Brien, Kira said, “Permission granted, Enterprise. Bring them home.”

“We will endeavor to do so, Major. Data out.”

It took Dax several hours to track Kor down. Once it was clear that he wasn’t at any of the several homes he maintained throughout Klingon space—the House of Kor was one of the wealthier ones in the empire—she started in on his drinking haunts. Worf’s instinct was to chide Dax for going straight to taverns, but Worf knew Kor.

Sure enough, the elderly Dahar Master was at a tavern on B’Alda’ar Base. Curzon and Kor had shared many a drink there, apparently.

“Dax, my old friend,” Kor said when he rubbed his eyes and recognized the person on the other end of the communication. “So good to see your lovely face, my dear. Ah, and Worf! How fares the son of Mogh?”

“Poorly, at the moment.” Quickly, Worf and Dax filled Kor in on what had happened.

Kor frowned. “K’Tal—K’Tal—”

Fearing that the old warrior’s memory was failing, Worf said, “K’Tal is a councillor, Kor, who—”

“Yes, I know who he is, you young toDSaH, I merely am trying to remember—Ah, yes! Torv!”

“Who’s Torv?” Dax asked.

“An old comrade of mine in Imperial Intelligence. He was just telling me the other day about something regarding K’Tal.” He waved his arms up and down. “If only I could remember—it was of interest, too, because it involved a familiar name—” Then he straightened, his face brightening. “I remember now! Sisko! I.I. learned of a plot to have Sisko and that human that K’mpec made his Arbiter—Picard, that’s the one—to have them killed in Gowron’s name in order to keep our nations from becoming allies again.”

“What does that have to do with K’Tal?” Worf asked, wishing that Kor would get through this digression so they could have him talk to the High Council.

“What do you mean? K’Tal is the councillor who deals with I.I., of course!”

Worf debated the efficacy of pointing out to Kor that he could not possibly have known that. Dax rescued him: “Kor, we don’t exactly know the intricacies of who’s doing what on the High Council these days.”

“Oh, yes, of course, you’re right. Well, never mind, it doesn’t matter, I’m sure K’Tal did something about it.”

“On the contrary,” Worf said, wondering why he bothered telling Kor anything. “As we just told you, the plan has been engaged. Captains Sisko and Picard have been led into a trap by someone claiming to be K’Tal.”

“Mmm, that is odd. K’Tal’s usually more efficient than that.”

“Kor,” Dax said, “we need you to inform the High Council. People are speaking in K’Tal’s name and Gowron’s name—that’s treason.”

“Indeed it is, yes. Very well, my good friends, I will see to this at once.”

“Thank you, Kor. We are in your debt.”

“Nonsense!” Kor said with a wave of his hand. “Dax and I are comrades in blood, and Worf, we are warriors who have fought side by side! There are no debts between such as us. We will speak again when all is done!”

With that, Kor closed the connection.

Dax looked up at Worf. “You think that’ll do any good?”

“It is difficult to say,” Worf said after a moment.

“The word of a Dahar Master, especially one of Kor’s accomplishments, will mean much to the High Council. I do not know if it will be sufficient to save the captains.”

Nodding and sighing at the same time, Dax said, “Let’s hope Data can beat that bird-of-prey there.”

CHAPTER

8

B’Leva

The Badlands

Picard had always found Starfleet’s thermal suits to be a marvel of textile engineering. The thick, ankle-length coats with plush lining, and elements woven into the fabric kept the wearer at a constant, comfortable temperature regardless of what was happening outdoors. There was also a hat, gloves, and a pair of boot attachments, and Picard and Sisko had made use of all three.

That, at least, was the theory. The reality was that winter on the northern hemisphere of B’Leva was sufficiently intense that the thermal suit was struggling against it.

As he and Sisko trudged through the now knee-high snow toward Gowron’s pod’s signal, snow blowing in his face, Picard felt the chill in his bones. He had been hoping that the exertions of moving through the snow with the packs on their backs would be warming, but that, too, was not enough.

Intellectually, he knew that were he not wearing the suit, he would likely be dead from frostbite. But he couldn’t help thinking of a few choice words for the engineers who’d put the suits together that they weren’t able to come up with something that would protect him from this.

It didn’t help that his cracked ribs caused a constant ache that was made infinitely worse by the cold.

The plasma storms illuminated space around B’Leva, but it was sufficiently diffused by the atmosphere that the world appeared to be in a constant state of twilight.

Stealing a glance behind him—the “pathway” they were using was only wide enough for them to move single file—he saw that Sisko was moving at an even pace and that a great deal of snow had caught in his goatee.

The winds were howling loud enough for conversation to be difficult, so Picard tapped his combadge and said, “How are you doing, Ben?” The first name sounded odd in Picard’s mouth.

Sisko’s deep voice sounded tinny over the combadge, and Picard could still barely hear it. “A couple of years ago, O’Brien and I were on a planet that had a human colony. There was a duonetic field in place, and the people there had learned to live without technology. We were their… guests for a while, until Kira and Dax rescued us, but until then, we had to live by their rules. If you broke a rule, you had to sit in the punishment box, which was this small metal box that sat out in the sun. I sat in that box for a long time—it was hot, humid, cramped, and horrible, and I’m feeling awfully nostalgic for it right now.”

Picard smiled. “What rule did you break?”

“O’Brien was trying to contact the Rio Grande—we thought it was still in orbit. But I’m the chief’s CO, so I was the one punished.”

“Where was the runabout?”

“Alixus, the woman who ran the colony, she set it off into the sun—or so she thought. Her aim was off, and it deflected off the sun’s corona.” Although he wasn’t facing the other man, Picard could hear the smile in Sisko’s voice when he said, “I told you the Rio Grande was blessed.”

“Indeed.”

They trudged onward in silence for a bit, then Picard said, “Before the plasma storm hit, Gowron’s pod armed weapons.”

“So you said. You think he planned to fire on us?”

“Weapons are of little use against a plasma storm. If he’d just raised shields, I’d understand, but I think that, if we do find survivors, we have to assume they’re hostile.”

“I agree. I don’t like it much, but I agree.” He paused.

“You were Gowron’s Arbiter of Succession, right?”

“Technically, I was K’mpec’s. My task as Arbiter was to determine the final two candidates, who would then battle to see who would be chancellor. However, there were only two candidates—Gowron and Duras. K’mpec’s true purpose in giving me the task was to find out who poisoned him.”

“Poison? That’s not very Klingon, is it?”

“No—which is why K’mpec tasked me with finding his murderer. We never did determine who it was, though the evidence pointed to Duras. You may believe me, Ben, that as difficult as Gowron has been, Duras would have been several orders of magnitude worse.”

As he spoke, Picard came around a large rock and discovered that the path had finally taken them to a part of the mountain that inclined downward—he could see a valley in front of them. A trail of smoke was rising from the valley, and Picard immediately took out his tricorder.

Sisko moved to stand next to him, close enough that Picard no longer needed the combadge to hear him. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Uh-huh.” Picard nodded. “The shuttlepod.”

The two captains moved faster, in part due to now moving downhill, but mainly because their goal was in sight. Sisko had his phaser rifle out, and after a moment, Picard realized he should do likewise. It galled him to go into a situation with weapons raised. Pulling a weapon should be a last resort, not a first one, but he himself had pointed out that Gowron was about to fire on them when the plasma storm hit. It was better, under these circumstances, to be safe—especially when dealing with Klingon warriors, for whom weaponry was often the first resort among friends, much less enemies.

Sisko and Picard walked abreast now, and Picard voiced his concerns. “There was a time when we would not have been approaching a downed Klingon shuttlepod with phasers at the ready.”

“There was a time,” Sisko said, “when there weren’t Founders lurking behind every tree and when the Klingons and the Federation were allies. Times, unfortunately, change.”

“Our duty is to try to change it back,” Picard said.

“Can’t argue with that,” Sisko said. “It’s why we’re here.”

As they grew closer to the pod, it became increasingly clear that they were not going to meet any resistance. No one fired upon them, no one greeted them, nothing. Picard wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

The pod had landed nose-down in the snow, very similarly to the way the Zambesi had. A snowdrift had built up on the port side, which was another piece of evidence to support the notion that, if there were survivors, they were not in any shape to fight.

Which was good, as Picard was ready to collapse. The adrenaline surge he’d gotten upon sighting the pod burned itself completely out by the time they reached it. Every movement caused what felt like daggers through his back.

Next to him, Sisko peered at his tricorder. “The distress beacon is about the only thing still working on that ship. Propulsion’s down, life support failing, hull integrity at only twenty-five percent.” He smiled. “Tactical systems are intact, though.”

“Klingon engineers, in my experience, build such to last.”

“Lucky us.” He shook his head. “I’m not picking up any life signs.”

Picard moved gingerly toward the pod’s rear hatch, the only one of its two entrances available to them—the side door was currently buried in snow. “I shudder to think about what it would mean for the chances of peace between the empire and the Federation if the Klingon chancellor died ignominiously in a shuttlepod crash in the Badlands while meeting with two Starfleet captains.”

“My money would be on it not meaning much for those chances,” Sisko said grimly.

“Agreed.” When they reached the hatch, Picard shrugged out of his backpack and rummaged through it for a P-38. Engineers referred to P-38s as “can openers”—the devices loosened connections that kept doors shut, particularly when jammed or depowered. Picard just hoped that it would be as effective on Klingon hatches as it tended to be on Starfleet ones.

Looking over at Sisko, the younger man held his phaser rifle ready and nodded.

Nodding back, Picard applied the P-38. A pneumatic hiss followed a moment later, and then the hatch rolled aside with a grinding rumble that cut through the howling of the wind.

The air inside was just as cool as the air outside, confirming that life support had indeed failed. Right now, the pod’s twenty-five-percent–integrated hull was the only thing keeping the cold out.

Klingons, he knew, were more vulnerable than humans to cold. It was the only way the average Klingon could be considered physically weaker than the average human. Picard added that to the overwhelming evidence that said that Gowron and his compatriot were dead.

It was dark inside, with the only illumination coming from a few red lights on one of the consoles and, now, the open hatch. Picard activated the light atop his phaser rifle, and Sisko did likewise.

At once, Picard realized that they were both right and wrong. There were no survivors on the pod, but Gowron still lived.

Because the two dead bodies lying on the pod’s deck were not the two people who’d contacted the Zambesi from orbit.

Shining his phaser’s light on the belt of one of the bodies, Picard said, “A qutluch.”

“Gesundheit.”

Picard couldn’t help but smile. “That’s the weapon of an assassin. Remember when I said that Duras would be a worse chancellor than Gowron? I formed that opinion, in part, because he sent two men very much like this after me on Qo’noS seven years ago. I was almost on the receiving end of one of those blades.”

“So it looks like we were right, and Azernal’s dismissal was premature,” Sisko said. “Somebody wanted the two of us to think Gowron was meeting us, so they could kill us. The question is, was it Gowron or one of his enemies?”

“Or one of his friends trying to help him.” Picard shook his head. “That question should, I think, be tabled. A rescue party being sent after this ship may not have our best interests at heart.”

The comm line then crackled, and a voice spoke in the Klingon language amid tremendous static. “Gyrik, this is Ngabwi. Res…re the humans dea…spond! We wi…the Badlands within the hour. Ngabwi out.”

Picard looked at Sisko, who said, “Definitely not our best interests at heart.”

CHAPTER

9

U.S.S. Enterprise-E

En route to the Badlands

Sean Hawk tried to coax some more speed out of the Enterprise engines.

It had been an interesting year on the new flagship. Hawk had been a “plank owner” of the Enterprise-E, having served aboard since its space frame was first constructed. He’d worked with dozens of engineers, including the legendary Montgomery Scott, on the Sovereign-class vessel’s design. He knew the ship as well as or better than anyone.

And he knew he could get more speed out of her.

His time aboard ship had not been dull. Linda Addison, one of his oldest friends, who was to have been security chief, had been killed and replaced with a changeling who almost destroyed the ship. He’d been targeted by a shadowy organization within the Federation.

And he’d found true love.

That last part had been particularly gratifying. He hadn’t really been looking when he met Ranul Keru, an unjoined Trill serving in stellar cartography, but it had also been his experience through a lot of busted relationships that the ones you weren’t looking for were the ones that lasted.

The two of them had seen Arms and the Man together last night, and Keru had conned Hawk into trying out for Dr. Crusher’s next production, whatever it might be. Keru already intended to, and after a great deal of badgering over a late, after-performance dinner in Ten-Forward, he’d agreed.

Hawk had never stood on a stage in his life. He was a pilot and engineer—the type of person who worked behind the scenes. Maybe I can convince the doc to put me on the tech crew.

His thoughts were interrupted by a call from engineering. “Porter to Hawk.”

“Go ahead.”

“You should be able to get warp nine-point-eight out of her now, Sean.”

Hawk smiled. “Thanks, Paul.” He turned to Data. “Sir, we’re now at warp nine-point-six and rising.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hawk,” Data said from the command chair.

Next to him at the operations console, Lieutenant Miranda Kadohata picked something up. Kadohata, a raven-haired woman who had served in the sensor room on the Enterprise-D, Hawk knew, was filling in at ops while Data was acting as first officer in Riker’s absence. “Sir, we’re picking up the bird-of-prey—it’s on course for the Badlands.” She spoke with a British accent, though she hailed from the Cestus III colony. Hawk had been meaning to ask her how that happened, exactly.

“Identify the ship, please,” Data said.

Kadohata shook her head. “We’re still too far to get an ID, but it’s definitely Bre’el-class, and its course will take it straight to B’Leva.” A moment later: “Sir, we’re now picking up a distress signal. It’s an automated Klingon Defense Force call.”

Data got to his feet and moved to stand between Kadohata and Hawk. “Can you identify the source of the distress call, Lieutenant?”

“I think so.” Kadohata ran her lithe fingers over her console. “It registers as belonging to a Defense Force shuttlepod—Kivra-class.” She turned around to look at Data. “Commander, according to the Defiant’s probe, the pod that was meeting the captain was Kivra-class.”

“If they are sending a distress signal, that would indicate a difficulty that Captain Picard and Captain Sisko are unable to assist them with.”

“I’m picking up the bird-of-prey’s registry now, sir,” Kadohata said. “It’s the I.K.S. Kring.”

“Mr. Hawk, how soon will we arrive at B’Leva?”

Hawk did a quick calculation on his console—taking into account how long it would take to reach the periphery of the Badlands at their current velocity, then how long it would take to reach B’Leva at full impulse—and said, “Assuming the plasma storms aren’t too rough, we’ll be there in a little over three hours.”

Looking at Kadohata, Data asked, “The Kring?”

Kadohata winced. “One hour, forty-five minutes. Sir, there’s something else.”

“Yes?”

“The distress signal doesn’t have any of the markers that would indicate that the Klingon chancellor is the one in distress.”

Data nodded. “That would be consistent with our hypothesis that this entire meeting was a ruse to lure both captains to the Badlands.” He turned and walked back to the command chair. To Ensign Torri Ryerson at tactical, he said, “Please sound red alert, Ensign. Raise shields, arm all phasers, load torpedo bays.” He sat down.

As the bridge became bathed in red light, and people around him moved to battle stations, Hawk leaned over the conn, trying to see if he could work out a way to get even more speed out of the engines. A lot could happen in one and three-quarters hours, and Hawk was determined not to let either captain die because they weren’t fast enough.

“Hawk to Porter. Paul, I think we can push it to warp nine-point-nine. The structural integrity field—”

“Will collapse if we do that for more than an hour.”

“It’ll collapse after seventy-five minutes, so if we do it for seventy-four, then throttle back to nine-point-eight, we’ll shave at least ninety minutes off our arrival time.”

There was a long pause. “Gimme a sec.”

Hawk smiled. “Sir, we should have warp nine-point-nine shortly for seven—”

“I heard your conversation, Mr. Hawk. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir.” He let out a long breath. “Let’s just hope it does us some good.”

CHAPTER

10

B’Leva

The Badlands

Commander Ngabwi of the I.K.S. Kring beamed down to the surface of B’Leva with a squad of troops. His instructions had been very clear. If the assassins had failed in their task—and that seemed likely, given that they were sending an automated distress call and that the Kring had detected no Klingon life signs on the surface but two human ones—then he was personally to finish the job himself.

“Ridiculous,” he said as the beams deposited him a quarter of a qelI’qam from the wreckage of the shuttlepod.

“Sir?” Leader Kimt said. She was in charge of the other four troops.

“How difficult can it be to kill two humans? They are weak and fleshy and unimpressive. I have killed many hundreds of them over the past year, and they die quite easily.”

“Yes, sir.”

Looking around, he saw that this khest’n planet was as cold as Rura Penthe. “Let us move quickly, my warriors. I wish to kill these humans and depart before—”

Ngabwi cut himself off, noticing a glow on the shuttlepod. “Take cover!” he cried as he dove downward, just as a disruptor blast sizzled through the cold air.

A strangled scream from behind him indicated that one of Kimt’s troops did not follow his order.

Designed to penetrate energy shields and starship hulls, a pod’s disruptor would leave almost nothing of a Klingon body it struck.

The pod’s disruptor cannon continuously fired low to the ground. “Move toward the pod—stay on the ground!” Ngabwi cried. “We will not let these—”

“Stay on the ground!” Kimt yelled at one of her troops, but that was followed by another strangled scream.

I was promised a captaincy and a real ship, not populated by fools and incompetents if I suceeded in this mission. I will not let it be ruined by Kimt and her collection of toDSaHpu’. Lying in the snow, Ngabwi could feel the frozen water seeping slowly through his armor. “Continue advancing.”

“Yes, sir,” Kimt said.

Touching his wrist communicator, the commander said, “Ngabwi to Kring.”

His first officer replied, “Grudzeqi.”

“Lieutenant, can you get a disruptor lock on the pod?”

“Stand by.” After a moment. “Negative. There is an interference pattern being generated from your location that prevents a positive lock. We can obtain a firing solution, but you would be at risk, sir.”

It was tempting to tell Grudzeqi to beam him and the remaining troops back up and blow the pod up from orbit—but no, he needed corpses. Without the bodies of Picard and Sisko, the entire undertaking had no purpose.

“Very well. Stand by. Out.”

The things I do for a better command. The Kring was a clapped-out old ship that was in danger of falling apart at any minute. Indeed, Ngabwi was half convinced that there was no interference at all, but the Kring’s weapons systems were simply incapable of compensating for the interference of the Badlands—or for the snow.

A disruptor blast came perilously close to the top of Ngabwi’s head. This is absurd. He called the Kring again. “Patch me through to the pod’s communications systems!”

“Yes, Commander.” After a moment: “Go.”

“Humans! This is Commander Ngabwi! Cease your cowardly attack and face us honorably, if you dare!”

“This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard. The one who lures an enemy to an ambush while hiding behind the face of the chancellor is the true coward, Commander. If you are part of that mission, then you have no business claiming that honor is on your side.”

Kimt crawled to where Ngabwi was. “Sir, we cannot get any closer. They have raised the pod’s shields, and our hand disruptors will not penetrate them.”

“What if we fire continuously with all our weapons?”

She shook her head. “The disruptors will lose power long before the shields will fall.”

“Quvatlh!”

In the shuttlepod, Picard closed the channel on his end, though since Ngabwi had not done likewise, he and Sisko were still able to hear the commander’s conversation with his subordinate.

From his place under the tactical console, Sisko said, “It’s a pity he isn’t trying. I’ve managed to fool their scanners into thinking the shields and weapons are at full power, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.” He smiled as he got up from under the console. “Certainly it won’t last after the shields and weapons go down.”

“And how long will that be?”

Sisko scratched his jaw. “Six minutes?”

Picard hefted his phaser rifle. “Then it seems likely we will need these after all.” He was not pleased with the notion, but this charade had gone on long enough.

On the Enterprise, Hawk said, “Coming into range of B’Leva now, sir.” He also made a mental note to buy Porter a drink the next time they were in Ten-Forward.

Next to him, Kadohata said, “The Kring’s already in orbit. We’re too far out for life-sign readings on the planet.”

Data stood up in front of the command chair. “Ensign Ryerson, lock phasers on the Kring and open a hailing frequency.”

“Channel open,” the ensign said.

“I.K.S. Kring, this the U.S.S. Enterprise. We are responding to the distress call being transmitted from the planet below. May we be of assistance?”

At first, Hawk thought that was an odd approach for Data to take, but then he realized that the Klingons would be expecting a Federation ship to talk first, even though they were running weapons hot. Sometimes there was a benefit in acting the way your enemies expected you to.

Ryerson shook her head. “No response.”

“Approaching the planet,” Hawk said.

Data sat back down. “Standard orbit, Lieutenant.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Picking up bioreadings on the planet now,” Kadohata said. “Can’t make out numbers, but there are Klingon and human life signs.” She whirled around to look at Data. “Also picking up refined metal and disruptor fire, all in the same vicinity.”

Data nodded. “Bridge to transporter room. Can you detect the combadge of Captain Picard or Sisko?”

Chief Mun Ying’s voice sounded over the intercom. “Scanning now—yes, sir, I’ve got them.”

“Beam them directly to the bridge.”

Hawk turned around and saw the transporter effect start to glow in the bridge, which coalesced into two human figures wearing Starfleet-issue thermal suits and carrying phaser rifles.

“Excellent timing, Mr. Data,” Picard said.

“Thank you, sir,” the android said with a happy smile. Then he grew serious. “I take it that the meeting was a ruse.”

“And then some,” Sisko said.

Ryerson said, “Captain, the Kring is transporting their away team back to the ship and powering their engines.”

Turning toward the view screen, Picard said, “Open a channel, Ensign.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Klingon vessel, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the U.S.S. Enterprise. You have committed an act of aggression against the United Federation of Planets. What’s more, you have engaged in a cowardly attack by not showing your faces and claiming to carry the bat’leth of the chancellor. You will surrender your vessel or we will open fire.”

The face of a Klingon commander appeared on the screen. “You have fought well today, Picard. But Klingon warriors do not surrender.”

“Yes, but cowards do—and you have proved yourself to deserve that appellation far more than you do that of warrior, Commander.” He took a breath. “Be reasonable, Ngabwi. You have no chance against the Enterprise.”

“Then we will die well. Screen off.”

Data had relieved Kadohata at ops. “The Kring is now powering weapons.”

“Target the Kring’s engineering section,” Picard said as he moved to sit in the command chair.

“Aye, sir,” Ryerson said.

Picard then looked up at Sisko, who hadn’t moved, and looked to Hawk as if he were unsure where to go.

Indicating the first officer’s chair to his right, Picard said, “Have a seat, Captain.”

Sisko inclined his head and sat next to Picard.

“Fire,” Picard said to Ryerson.

Hawk looked at the view screen and saw phaser fire arc toward the Kring, striking it right at the engineering section.

The Kring returned with fire of its own.

“Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Hawk,” Picard said, but Hawk had already input the course change and executed it before Picard finished saying those four words.

The Kring’s disruptor fire brushed across the Enterprise’s shields. You’re gonna have to do better than that, fellas, Hawk thought with pride.

An alarm on the secondary conn console got his attention, and he looked to his left to see that a plasma storm was moving in. “Captain, we’ve got a plasma storm bearing down on us.”

“Here we go again,” Sisko said from behind him.

“Priority is to avoid the storm, Mr. Hawk.”

“Understood, sir.” Running courses through his head, Hawk quickly tried to work out a solution that would keep them away from the storm, the Kring, and B’Leva’s atmosphere. When that proved impossible, he settled for the first two—the Enterprise could handle a brush with B’Leva’s stratosphere.

Then something else caught Hawk’s eye. “Sir, the Kring, it’s—”

He was cut off by the blinding explosion that followed shortly thereafter.

Sisko muttered, “So much for dying well.”

Picard shook his head. “A waste. Lower shields. Bridge to transporter room.”

“Mun Ying here, sir.”

“Lock on to the crashed shuttlepod and everything inside it and beam it to Cargo Bay 4.” Picard turned to Sisko. “I believe we have some evidence to show the High Council.”

“Assuming they’ll listen.”

“Then let’s find out. Lieutenant Hawk, set course for the Klingon border. Engage at full impulse as soon as the pod is on board, then proceed at warp eight once we’re clear of the Badlands.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Ensign Ryerson, have a security team secure the pod in the cargo bay.”

Hawk engaged at full impulse, being careful to work around the plasma storm. The captain sounds pretty pissed. But then, if I went to a peace conference and got shot at, I might be a little put out, too.

CHAPTER

11

U.S.S. Enterprise-E

Federation-Klingon border

A Klingon Defense Force vessel was waiting for the Enterprise at the border. This rather surprised Picard, since all the hails he’d had Ryerson send to Qo’noS had gone unanswered.

Or perhaps, given recent events, not terribly surprising at all, in light of the conversation they’d had with Worf and Dax back on DS9. Especially since the ship was a Vor’cha-class cruiser, which was the top of the Defense Force’s line.

He and Sisko had both reported to sickbay, where Dr. Crusher had healed their wounds from the runabout crash. Now they were back on the bridge, Sisko again by his side.

Ryerson said, “We’re being hailed, Captain—and sir? The message is tagged as coming from the High Council.”

Picard exchanged a glance with Sisko, then said, “On screen.”

The familiar face of K’Tal appeared. “Greetings, Captain.”

“I assume, Councillor, that you are truly K’Tal?”

“Yes—and the petaQ who assumed my face has been bound by law and is awaiting the judgment of the High Council. However, certain evidence is required for the meqba’—evidence that my ship’s scanners say is in your cargo bay.”

“You mean the shuttlepod that someone claiming to be you said would carry Gowron, but instead sent two assassins to kill Captain Sisko and myself.”

“That would have been a bad death, Picard. You comported yourself well as K’mpec’s Arbiter—and Sisko, you revealed the wam serpent in our midst on Ty’Gokor. You both deserve finer.”

Sisko said, “If that’s the case, Councillor, then why didn’t you move to stop the assassins before they came after us in the Badlands? We have it on good authority that I.I. let you know about the plan before it happened.”

“Because now we have proof, not insinuations. Or, at least, we will once you beam the pod over. Commander Ngabwi’s testimony would be of value also, but I assume you defeated him in battle?”

For all that it would improve his profile with the Klingons, Picard saw no reason to make false claims. “The Kring was overtaken by a plasma storm.”

“That is always a risk when traversing the Badlands. The conspirators should have realized that.”

“Who are the conspirators?” Sisko asked.

“Former members of the High Council who believe that being allied with the Federation is a mistake. By killing the pair of you in Gowron’s name they would force the empire to stand alone, as they believe we are meant to.”

Picard asked, “And you believe otherwise?”

“Normally? Yes. We are Klingons, and we need no aid from outsiders. But these are not normal times, Picard. The threat we face from the Dominion requires different thinking, not nostalgic attempts to return to the days before Praxis. Now then—the pod?”

“Ensign Ryerson,” Picard said, “have the pod remains transported to the councillor’s ship immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Picard, Sisko—you have done a great service to the empire today. Oh, and one more thing—I bear a message from Chancellor Gowron. He has nothing to say to either of you. Screen off.”

Picard glanced at Sisko. “That would seem to be that.”

“Azernal will be disappointed.” Sisko sounded like he didn’t truly care all that much about the chief of staff’s feelings.

Neither did Picard. “He shall have to live with it. At the very least, it would seem that K’Tal is working to remove anit-Federation advocates from the High Council’s ranks.”

Sisko nodded. “I can’t help noticing that his plan would’ve worked whether or not you and I survived on B’Leva.”

“Believe me, Captain, I noticed that as well,” Picard said tightly. “Mr. Hawk, once the pod is beamed to K’Tal, set course for DS9.”

“Aye, sir.”

EPILOGUE

Federation Starbase Deep Space 9

Bajoran system

Sisko was on his way to Quark’s to join Bashir for a drink when Kira called him from ops. “Sorry to interrupt your drink, Captain, but you’ve got a priority-one message from Admiral Hayes.”

Tapping his combadge and reversing course toward a turbolift, Sisko said, “You haven’t interrupted my drink, Major. I was on my way to my drink, but that doesn’t quite count. Julian will have to survive without me for a bit.”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

Sisko entered the turbolift and said, “Ops.”

Upon arrival at the station’s nerve center, he saw Hayes’s haggard face on the oval screen. “Captain, we have a situation. The entire quadrant is now at red alert. The colony on Ivor Prime has been destroyed by the Borg.”

The deck felt like it was tilting under Sisko’s feet. He could feel the eyes of the entire ops crew burning into him. They all knew his history with the Borg.

The one exception was Worf—but he had his own history with the cyborgs. “The Defiant can be ready to go in minutes.”

“That’s what I want, Commander—but only you are to be on board. Choose a crew of personnel who have served on the station for less than a year.”

Sisko’s shock and anger subsided, replaced with rage. “Admiral, for what reason—”

“This is an order, Captain, and I’m under no obligation to explain myself to you,” Hayes snapped. Then his face softened. “But you deserve an explanation, so I’ll take time away from defending Earth to give you one. You have history with the Borg. You also have one of the greatest weapons in the Federation at your disposal, and I’d rather not have the finger of a man who lost his wife to the Borg on the firing button. The rest of your senior staff will also stay put—they’ve proved in the past that they’ll disobey orders out of loyalty to you, and I can’t afford that right now. The only exception is Worf—and that only because of his experiences with the Borg. Now, if you’re done questioning orders, Captain, I’ve got an invasion to fight. Hayes out.”

Sisko stared at the blank screen. At first, the only thing he could see was Jennifer lying dead in their quarters while the Saratoga fell apart all around them, Hranok Zar grabbing Jake and forcing Sisko to go to the escape pods.

Then he saw something else—his crew on the Defiant bridge, disobeying Admiral Toddman’s orders and traveling to the Gamma Quadrant.

Part of him was furious, livid at being denied an opportunity to take revenge for the murder of Jennifer, not to mention so many of his crewmates on the Saratoga.

But that part was tamped down in short order by the realization that Hayes was right.

He looked around. The crew was staring at him, almost as if they were expecting him to tell them to disobey orders.

They’re going to be disappointed. “You heard the man, Mr. Worf. Get the ship ready. And Godspeed.”

“Aye, sir,” Worf said, heading for the turbolift.

“That’s it?” Dax said. “Benjamin, this is the Borg we’re talking about.”

“Which is why it’s best that I remain here.”

“The Defiant’s your ship, Benjamin.”

“Worf’s capable of handling command just fine—and he knows the Borg better than any of us. He’ll be a valuable asset.” Before Dax could raise another objection, Sisko held up a hand. “Enough, old man. We have our orders.”

With that, Sisko went into his office.

Immediately, he had the computer call up the list of ships that were being detached to Admiral Hayes’s fleet. As he was reading it, the Defiant was added to the list, complete with an ETA that Worf had no doubt already reported in with.

Conspicuous by its absence was that of the U.S.S. Enterprise. He checked and saw that the flagship was being assigned to patrol the Romulan border.

Looks like I’m not the only one Hayes doesn’t trust, Sisko thought. Sorry about that, Jean-Luc.

He grabbed the baseball and started tossing it thoughtfully. He actually thought of Picard by his first name. For all that the captain gave him permission, this was the first time he’d been able to call him that without thinking about it.

Maybe because we’ve both been benched when the Borg came to town.

But Hayes was right. This way was best. Four years ago, of course, Sisko would have ignored Hayes and done everything he could to get in the fight. And he probably would’ve been killed. And where would that leave Jake? Or Bajor? Or the station?

No, Benjamin Sisko had responsibilities, and petty revenge fantasies weren’t among them. He’d successfully worked with Jean-Luc Picard; he could sit back and let someone else take care of the Borg.

“Computer,” he said suddenly, “locate Jake Sisko.”

“Jake Sisko is in the Replimat.”

Sisko got up, placing the baseball back on its pedestal. He had a sudden and urgent need to hug his son.

AFTERWORD

The notion for Slings and Arrows has been puttering around in my head since 2000 or so. I originally pitched it to WildStorm as a twelve-issue comic book called Enterprise: Year One. Intended to celebrate Star Trek’s thirty-fifth anniversary in 2001, the pitch included versions of most of what’s in Slings and Arrows, plus a few things that didn’t make it into this final version: appearances by Spock, McCoy, and Scotty, and a tie-in to Voyager. (That Voyager portion was repurposed for my short story “Letting Go” in the Distant Shores anthology.)

WildStorm didn’t renew their comics license, however, and the notion staggered about for a while. I pitched it as an anthology, but it never went anywhere.

And then I found myself in a position to expand out the eBook line for which I’m editorially responsible. I had already put together Mere Anarchy, a Star Trek fortieth anniversary celebration that covered the breadth of original series history. For The Next Generation’s twentieth, I decided to dust off my Year One notion, retitle it to something less comic-booky (when in doubt, go for Shakespeare—the series and individual eBook titles all come from the “To be or not to be” speech in Hamlet), and bring in some other authors (some of whom I’d had in mind for that anthology idea) to help me make it a reality.

The concept of Slings and Arrows is quite simple: In Star Trek: First Contact, La Forge said the Enterprise-E had been in service for a year. Yet very few stories had been told in that year. There was the TNG Section 31 novel Rogue in 2001, and there was the Ship of the Line novel in 1997 that told of the Big E’s maiden voyage, but that was it, aside from a short story here and there. (See the timeline at the end of this eBook.)

And that year was wracked with storm and tempest, as we saw on the late fourth and early fifth seasons of the spin off series Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: paranoia over changeling infiltration, martial law being declared on Earth, continued aggression by the Klingons and the Maquis. Plus, on a more microcosmic level, we saw in First Contact that Data learned how to switch off his emotion chip and La Forge swapped out his VISOR for cybernetic implants, and we saw on DS9 that Troi’s mother gave birth and Riker’s “transporter twin” joined the Maquis.

All in all, an eventful year. What Slings and Arrows did was tell everyone what the Enterprise was doing.

I’d like to thank Bob Greenberger, Bill Leisner, Terri Osborne, Phae Weldon, and Chris and Steve York, who have done superlative work in taking this many-year-old vision of mine and making it even better than I could possibly have imagined. Each of the main characters got his or her moment in the sun, and we also got to play around with newcomers Hawk and Daniels.

Editing the Star Trek eBook line has been one of the great joys of my career, and one of the reasons is being able to put together something like this that celebrates an aspect of Star Trek in what I hope is a new and unique way.

Thanks for coming along for the ride.

—Keith R.A. DeCandido

somewhere in New York City

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

This is KEITH R.A. DECANDIDO’s third fictional contribution to the celebration of Star Trek: The Next Generation’s twentieth anniversary, following the novel Q & A and the short story “Four Lights” in The Sky’s the Limit. He has written a ridiculous amount of Star Trek fiction in several different media: fifteen novels (most recently Klingon Empire: A Burning House and a short novel in Myriad Universes: Echoes and Refractions), seven short stories (most recently “Family Matters” in Mirror Universe: Shards and Shadows), eleven eBooks (prior to this, the most recent being the final installment in the Star Trek: S.C.E. series Many Splendors), two novellas (the acclaimed “Horn and Ivory” in Gateways: What Lay Beyond), and a mess of comic books (the upcoming Alien Spotlight II: Klingons issue and the Redshirts miniseries).

As an editor, he’s been responsible for the Star Trek eBook line since 2001—co-conceiving and directing the ongoing Starfleet Corps of Enginners series, and also conceiving and executing the anniversary miniseries Mere Anarchy and Slings and Arrows. He has also edited dozens of anthologies, such as the Doctor Who: Short Trips anthology The Quality of Leadership and the Star Trek anthologies No Limits, Tales of the Dominion War, and Tales from the Captain’s Table.

Keith has dabbled in many other media universes, and his work has been praised by Entertainment Weekly, TV Zone, Publishers Weekly, SFX, Dreamwatch, Library Journal, and others. He lives in New York City with his fiancée and two insane cats. Find out less at his official website at DeCandido.net or read his deranged nonsense at kradical.livejournal.com.

THE ENTERPRISE-E TIMELINE

COMPILED BY KEITH R.A. DECANDIDO

Aside from three movies (First Contact, Insurrection, and Nemesis) and a few comic books, the stories of the Enterprise-E have primarily been told in the prose medium. Herewith, a list of those stories, in chronological order. It should be noted that not all the stories listed are necessarily consistent with one another, but all stories featuring the Enterprise-E and its crew are included for the sake of completeness.

Novel and anthology titles are in italics, with short stories in “quotes,” and movie titles in bold italics. Abbreviations are as follows: ST = Star Trek, TNG = The Next Generation, DS9 = Deep Space Nine, VOY = Voyager, NF = New Frontier, SCE = Starfleet Corps of Engineers, TTN = Titan.

2372

“Seeing Forever” by Jeff Suess in ST: Strange New Worlds IV

TNG: Ship of the Line by Diane Carey

TNG: Slings and Arrows Book 1: A Sea of Troubles by J. Steven York & Christina F. York

TNG: Slings and Arrows Book 2: The Oppressor’s Wrong by Phaedra M. Weldon

TNG: Slings and Arrows Book 3: The Insolence of Office by William Leisner

“Adventures in Jazz and Time” by Kelly Cairo in ST: Strange New Worlds VII

“Out of the Box, Thinking” by Jerry M. Wolfe in ST: Strange New Worlds III

TNG: Slings and Arrows Book 4: That Sleep of Death by Terri Osborne

2373

TNG: Section 31: Rogue by Andy Mangels & Michael A. Martin

TNG: Slings and Arrows Book 5: A Weary Life by Robert Greenberger

TNG: Slings and Arrows Book 6: Enterprises of Great Pitch and Moment by Keith R.A. DeCandido

“A Dish Served Cold” by Paul C. Tseng in ST: Strange New Worlds 10

Star Trek: First Contact

“Protecting Data’s Friends” by Scott William Carter in ST: Strange New Worlds VI

“Gods, Fate, and Fractals” by William Leisner in ST: Strange New Worlds II

ST: Avenger by William Shatner, with Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens

NF: House of Cards by Peter David

“What Dreams May Come” by Michael Jan Friedman in ST: Tales of the Dominion War

2374

TNG: The Dominion War Book 1: Behind Enemy Lines by John Vornholt

TNG: The Dominion War Book 3: Tunnel Through the Stars by John Vornholt

“The First” by Peg Robinson in ST: Strange New Worlds

“Reciprocity” by Brad Curry in ST: Strange New Worlds II

TNG/X-Men: Planet X by Michael Jan Friedman “Bedside Matters” by Greg Cox in The Amazing Stories “The Soft Room” by Geoffrey Thorne in ST: Strange New Worlds VI

TNG: Immortal Coil by Jeffrey Lang

TNG: The Q-Continuum Book 1: Q-Space by Greg Cox

TNG: The Q-Continuum Book 2: Q-Zone by Greg Cox

TNG: The Q-Continuum Book 3: Q-Strike by Greg Cox

ST: Spectre by William Shatner, with Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens

ST: Dark Victory by William Shatner, with Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens

“Suicide Note” by Geoff Trowbridge in TNG: The Sky’s the Limit

2375

“Mirror Eyes” by Heather Jarman & Jeffrey Lang in ST: Tales of the Dominion War

TNG: The Battle of Betazed by Charlotte Douglas & Susan Kearney

Star Trek: Insurrection

“Four Lights” by Keith R.A. DeCandido in TNG: The Sky’s the Limit

ST: Preserver by William Shatner, with Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens

“Home Soil” by Jim Johnson in ST: Strange New Worlds 9

“Eleven Hours Out” by Dave Galanter in ST: Tales of the Dominion War

“Solace in Bloom” by Jeff D. Jacques in ST: Strange New Worlds 9

“The Human Factor” by Russ Crossley in ST: Strange New Worlds VI

TNG: Double Helix Book 5: Double or Nothing by Peter David

TNG: I, Q by John deLancie & Peter David

TNG: Gemworld Book 1 by John Vornholt

TNG: Gemworld Book 2 by John Vornholt

2376

“Bluff” by Steven Scott Ripley in ST: Strange New Worlds V

TNG: Diplomatic Implausibility by Keith R.A. DeCandido

TNG: Maximum Warp Book 1: Dead Zone by Dave Galanter & Greg Brodeur

TNG: Maximum Warp Book 2: Forever Dark by Dave Galanter & Greg Brodeur

SCE: The Belly of the Beast by Dean Wesley Smith

SCE: Fatal Error by Keith R.A. DeCandido

SCE: Hard Crash by Christie Golden

DS9: Avatar Book 1 by S.D. Perry

DS9: Avatar Book 2 by S.D. Perry

TNG: Gateways Book 3: Doors Into Chaos by Robert Greenberger

“The Other Side” by Robert Greenberger in ST: Gateways Book 7: What Lay Beyond The Brave and the Bold Book 2 by Keith R.A. DeCandido

NF: Stone and Anvil by Peter David

SCE: The Art of the Deal by Glenn Greenberg

TNG: The Genesis Wave Book 1 by John Vornholt

TNG: Genesis Force by John Vornholt

TNG: The Genesis Wave Book 2 by John Vornholt

2377

TNG: The Genesis Wave Book 3 by John Vornholt

ST: Vulcan’s Soul Book 2: Exiles by Josepha Sherman & Susan Shwartz

ST: Vulcan’s Soul Book 3: Epiphany by Josepha Sherman & Susan Shwartz

TNG: A Hard Rain by Dean Wesley Smith

SCE: Remembrance of Things Past Book 1 by Terri Osborne

SCE: Remembrance of Things Past Book 2 by Terri Osborne

2378

VOY: Homecoming by Christie Golden

VOY: The Farther Shore by Christie Golden

ST: Captain’s Peril by William Shatner, with Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens

TNG: A Time to Be Born by John Vornholt

TNG: A Time to Die by John Vornholt

TNG: A Time to Sow by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

2379

TNG: A Time to Harvest by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

TNG: A Time to Love by Robert Greenberger

TNG: A Time to Hate by Robert Greenberger

“’Til Death” by Bob Ingersoll & Thom Zahler in TNG: The Sky’s the Limit

TNG: A Time to Kill by David Mack

TNG: A Time to Heal by David Mack

TNG: A Time for War, a Time for Peace by Keith R.A. DeCandido

Star Trek Nemesis

“On the Spot” by David A. McIntee in TNG: The Sky’s the Limit

“Trust Yourself When All Men Doubt You” by Michael Schuster & Steve Mollmann in TNG: The Sky’s the Limit

TNG: Death in Winter by Michael Jan Friedman

“Improvisations on the Opal Sea, a Tale of Dubious Credibility” by Andy Mangels & Michael A. Martin in ST: Tales from the Captain’s Table

“Final Flight” by John Takis in ST: Strange New Worlds 8

TTN: Taking Wing by Michael A. Martin & Andy Mangels

“The Very Model” by Muri McCage in ST: Strange New Worlds 10

2380

TTN: The Red King by Andy Mangels & Michael A. Martin

TTN: Orion’s Hounds by Christopher L. Bennett

TNG: Resistance by J.M. Dillard

TNG: Q & A by Keith R.A. DeCandido

TTN: Sword of Damocles by Geoffrey Thorne

TNG: Before Dishonor by Peter David

ST: Captain’s Blood by William Shatner, with Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens

TNG: Greater than the Sum by Christopher L. Bennett

2381

ST: Destiny Book 1: Gods of Night by David Mack

ST: Destiny Book 2: Mere Mortals by David Mack

ST: Destiny Book 3: Lost Souls by David Mack

ST: Captain’s Glory by William Shatner, with Judith & Garfield Reeves-Stevens

OTHER STAR TREK™ EBOOKS

Star Trek: Corps of Engineers

Turn the Page by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

Troubleshooting by Robert Greenberger

The Light by Jeff D. Jacques

The Art of the Comeback by Glenn Greenberg

Signs from Heaven by Phaedra M. Weldon

Ghost by Ilsa J. Bick

Remembrance of Things Past Book 1 by Terri Osborne

Remembrance of Things Past Book 2 by Terri Osborne

Star Trek: Mere Anarchy

Book 1: Things Fall Apart by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

Book 2: The Centre Cannot Hold by Mike W. Barr

Book 3: Shadows of the Indignant by Dave Galanter

Book 4: The Darkness Drops Again by Christopher L. Bennett

Book 5: The Blood-Dimmed Tide by Howard Weinstein

Book 6: Its Hour Come Round by Margaret Wander Bonanno

Star Trek: S.C.E.

#1: The Belly of the Beast by Dean Wesley Smith

#2: Fatal Error by Keith R.A. DeCandido

#3: Hard Crash by Christie Golden

#4: Interphase Book 1 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

#5: Interphase Book 2 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

#6: Cold Fusion by Keith R.A. DeCandido

#7: Invincible Book 1 by David Mack & Keith R.A. DeCandido

#8: Invincible Book 2 by David Mack & Keith R.A. DeCandido

#9: The Riddled Post by Aaron Rosenberg

#10: Gateways Epilogue: Here There Be Monsters by Keith R.A. DeCandido

#11: Ambush by Dave Galanter & Greg Brodeur

#12: Some Assembly Required by Scott Ciencin & Dan Jolley

#13: No Surrender by Jeff Mariotte

#14: Caveat Emptor by Ian Edginton & Mike Collins

#15: Past Life by Robert Greenberger

#16: Oaths by Glenn Hauman

#17: Foundations Book 1 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

#18: Foundations Book 2 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

#19: Foundations Book 3 by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

#20: Enigma Ship by J. Steven York & Christina F. York

#21: War Stories Book 1 by Keith R.A. DeCandido

#22: War Stories Book 2 by Keith R.A. DeCandido

#23: Wildfire Book 1 by David Mack

#24: Wildfire Book 2 by David Mack

#25: Home Fires by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

#26: Age of Unreason by Scott Ciencin

#27: Balance of Nature by Heather Jarman

#28: Breakdowns by Keith R.A. DeCandido

#29: Aftermath by Christopher L. Bennett

#30: Ishtar Rising Book 1 by Michael A. Martin & Andy Mangels

#31: Ishtar Rising Book 2 by Michael A. Martin & Andy Mangels

#32: Buying Time by Robert Greenberger

#33: Collective Hindsight Book 1 by Aaron Rosenberg

#34: Collective Hindsight Book 2 by Aaron Rosenberg

#35: The Demon Book 1 by Loren L. Coleman & Randall N. Bills

#36: The Demon Book 2 by Loren L. Coleman & Randall N. Bills

#37: Ring Around the Sky by Allyn Gibson

#38: Orphans by Kevin Killiany

#39: Grand Designs by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

#40: Failsafe by David Mack

#41: Bitter Medicine by Dave Galanter

#42: Sargasso Sector by Paul Kupperberg

#43: Paradise Interrupted by John S. Drew

#44: Where Time Stands Still by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore

#45: The Art of the Deal by Glenn Greenberg

#46: Spin by J. Steven York & Christina F. York

#47: Creative Couplings Book 1 by Glenn Hauman & Aaron Rosenberg

#48: Creative Couplings Book 2 by Glenn Hauman & Aaron Rosenberg

#49: Small World by David Mack

#50: Malefictorum by Terri Osborne

#51: Lost Time by Ilsa J. Bick

#52: Identity Crisis by John J. Ordover

#53: Fables of the Prime Directive by Cory Rushton

#54: Security by Keith R.A. DeCandido

#55: Wounds Book 1 by Ilsa J. Bick

#56: Wounds Book 2 by Ilsa J. Bick

#57: Out of the Cocoon by William Leisner

#58: Honor by Kevin Killiany

#59: Blackout by Phaedra M. Weldon

#60: The Cleanup by Robert T. Jeschonek

#61: Progress by Terri Osborne (What’s Past Book 1)

#62: The Future Begins by Steve Mollmann & Michael Schuster (What’s Past Book 2)

#63: Echoes of Coventry by Richard C. White (What’s Past Book 3)

#64: Distant Early Warning by Dayton Ward & Kevin Dilmore (What’s Past Book 4)

#65: 10 is Better Than 01 by Heather Jarman (What’s Past Book 5)

#66: Many Splendors by Keith R.A. DeCandido (What’s Past Book 6)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

EPILOGUE

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHOR