by Edward H. Bart IV and Nathan Faver

        Centurion Ketrell was a young Romulan male with many qualities. He was studious, diligent, and keenly analytical. Those qualities made him a perfect candidate for the job of monitoring the Romulan Star Empire’s borders. The Romulan Empire needed many people like Ketrell keeping sentry at the borders of Romulan space; most especially in times of war, which was now. The Romulan Star Empire has always been a jewel that the Dominion had always wished to capture. However, with men like Ketrell, the Romulans had been able to defend their borders successfully.
        In addition to the qualities that got Ketrell the sentry position, he was cunning, practical, slightly amoral, and strongly loyal. Those qualities also made him a very good Tal Shiar agent. The Tal Shiar, a secretive organization within the Romulan government, was charged with the job of defending the Empire from any threats, outside or within. Almost every of the major powers in the Alpha Quadrant had such an organization, sanctioned or unsanctioned.
        Almost every major power also had the same problem with their organizations: who determines whether something was a threat or not? The supervising government, or the secret agency itself?
        That question did not bother Ketrell at all. He was merely a cog in the vast hidden machinery of the Tal Shiar. He did what he was told to do, for he knew that whatever his superiors told him, would be for the best of the Romulan Star Empire. A beeping on his subspace monitor indicated four ships had just entered Romulan space, from out of the Neutral Zone. Three of the ships were Romulan Warbirds, part of the Romulan’s mighty Space Fleet. The other ship was what he was supposed to watch for. What he had been waiting to see for the past few cycles.
        Ketrell pressed onto his triangular combadge in a series of taps, which he knew would connect him to the Tal Shiar’s secret headquarters. “Centurion Ketrell reporting from Deep Post 32.”
        “Yes, what do you have to report?” a husky feminine voice answered. With a start, Ketrell recognized the voice as the new leader of the Tal Shiar, code named Ent’sei. Very few people knew who she actually was. True, the Chairman of the Tal Shiar was Danek, but he wasn’t the one in charge. She was.
        “Well?” she asked again, impatience clearly showing in her voice.
        “My apologies, I did not expect to speak with you, Ent’sei,” Ketrell said. “I was only reporting that the Fed ship has arrived into Romulan space.”
        “Ahh, yes. Continue monitoring the ship as long as you can. Report its movements back to us every 5 hours. The Feds will pay for violating our sovereign borders.”
        “Yes, sir,” Ketrell said.
        “Carry on, Centurion,” Ent’sei said as she closed the comm channel.
        Ketrell drew in a deep breath. He looked on his monitor, which showed the red symbol of the detestable Fed ship. What was its name, Ketrell wondered. He was not well versed in Terran language. On a second screen, Ketrell called up a language translator program. “Ah,” Ketrell nodded, as he read the information. The name of the enemy ship was the Courageous.

Chapter One

        The U.S.S. Courageous sped along at moderate warp, flanked by two similar sized green Romulan Warbirds, and preceded by a Warbird. Captain Thomas R. Johnson, Jr. tapped his fingers slowly on his armrest. His sigh, one of boredom tinged with impatience, slowly left his mouth. Major Maximillian Ironsides, Johnson’s first officer, glanced at the captain’s rapidly bouncing fingers. He cleared his throat as he stood at the OPS station, to the left of Johnson’s command seat.
        Johnson felt Ironsides’s eyes on him, and glanced down at his fingers. He stilled his hand by crossing his arms, as he looked at the viewscreen. “Sorry about that,” he said by way of explanation. “I had thought I’d be getting a better view of the Romulan Star Empire than this.” The captain gestured to the viewscreen, which constantly showed the aft end of a Warbird.
        “Well, I tried to tell them we didn’t need three warbirds as an escort,” Ambassador Nathan Favor said, from the seat on Johnson’s left side. Favor, the official Federation envoy aboard the Courageous, shrugged apologetically at his longtime friend. Johnson turned his head to smirk at Favor.
        “And yet, with all of your powers of persuasion, they still have three warbirds babysitting us,” he said.
        “What can I say?” Favor shrugged. “They’re Romulans.”
        Johnson straightened up in his seat. He looked over at Major Ironsides, who stood at his post at OPS over to the Johnson’s left. The major seemed to preoccupied. Johnson’s curiosity was piqued.
        “Major, what’s up?” he asked.
        “Oh, nothing sir. Just running a passive scan for tachyons,” Ironsides replied.
        “Ah, for cloaked ships?” Johnson nodded.
        “Aye, sir.”
        “Find any?”
        The major shook his head. “Negative, sir. But then again, I’m only running a low scan so our escorts don’t know we’re looking.”
        “Why would they have cloaked ships following us, when they have three warbirds surrounding us?” Favor asked.
        Ironsides looked at the ambassador. “You never know. Sometimes things are hidden in plain sight.”
        “Ironsides is right, Nathan,” Johnson nodded. “The Romulans may have been our allies for the last ten years against the Dominion, but there’s still centuries of mistrust to overcome. You of all people should know that. You’ve had the most dealings with the Romulans in the last decade. After all, that’s why we’re on this trip.”
        Favor nodded. “I know. I had hoped this wouldn’t happen but then again, I figured it probably would. Our treaty with the Romulan government isn’t exactly a lasting peace, nor is it unconditional. Still, you have to appreciate the trust they’ve laid in us, allowing us to travel through Romulan space. Not very many Federation starships have been allowed to travel where we are traveling.”
        “Yeah,” Johnson sighed , disappointment registering on his face,, looking at the viewscreen. “With that in our faces the whole time. I had hoped to see the Kn’tarrian crystal rings on our way. I’ve heard it’s beautiful.” The captain looked at the dark green obstruction on the viewscreen.
        “Yes, I had hoped to be able to observe that as well,” Joh Emmeril, the ship’s Bajoran Science Officer added. She looked at Johnson and Favor.
        “Oh, I’ve been there,” Favor remarked. “It’s allright.”
        “Still I’d like to be able to make that assessment for myself. When we meet with their ambassador, do you think you could arrange for some sightseeing?”
        “I’ll see what I can do, Tom,” Favor nodded.
        Johnson looked at the flight stations in front of him. Lieutenant Amanda Ruiz was at the navigator’s seat, while Ensign LeAnn Walker was at her usual post, the flight control station. “ETA to the Kha’mei ?” he asked.
        Ruiz glanced at her screen. “We should be arriving at the rendezvous coordinates in thirteen minutes.”
        “Ok, good,” Johnson nodded. He sighed, and started tapping his fingers again.
        Favor looked down at Johnson’s fingers.
        “Why are you so...antsy?” he asked the captain.
        “We’re surrounded by three Romulan warbirds, traveling several light-years into Romulan space...and you ask me why I’m antsy?” Johnson asked back.
        “Don’t worry, Tom. Things will go just fine,” Favor reassured the captain. “I’ve spent a lot of time in Romulan space. Once you get to know them, they’re a very interesting people.”
        “Yeah,” said Johnson.
        “You know,” Favor cleared his throat, “the ship we’re meeting with, the Kha’mei? It means ‘bold venture.’ Kind of like the Enterprise.”
        “Is that so?” Johnson murmured, clearly uninterested in Favor’s linguistic tidbit.
        “That’s right,” Favor nodded, not noticing Johnson’s disinterest. “Although that’s not how they call our ship, the Enterprise. Due to the ship’s many incidents with the Romulans, they call it the sseika. It’s the Romulan equivalent of a hyena, a scavenger. It’s an insult, you know?”
        “Uh-huh.”
        “Now, since there were different encounters with different Enterprises, they have different terms. For the original ship, they use kllhe, which is a type of worm. I’m not sure why they used that. I have two theories. One is because the original Enterprise had often went inside the Neutral Zone, such as a worm burrows into the dirt.” Favor looked over at Johnson, who was now propping up his chin on the armrest, in the classic pose of boredom.
        “The other,” Favor continued on, “is because back in the old days, warp speed was pretty slow. Worms are pretty slow. You get the picture?”
        “Uh-huh,” Johnson nodded.
        “Sir, we’re approaching the coordinates,” Lieutenant Ruiz announced.
        “Good,” Johnson stood up quickly. “On screen,” he commanded, turning to look at the Chief Security officer behind him, Chief Leo Bogarde, at his post at tactical. The tall black officer nodded and put the forward view on the main bridge viewscreen.
        Johnson could see a medium sized Romulan cruiser just beyond the lead warbird escort ship. The Courageous and her escorts slowed to a stop, taking up position near the cruiser. “Sir, they’re hailing us,” Bogarde announced.
        Johnson nodded and turned to await the transmission. The viewscreen shifted to show two Romulans standing on the bridge of the cruiser. One was a tall stoic Romulan male, dressed in the sharp grey uniform of the Romulan military. The cruiser’s captain, Johnson assumed. The other figure was a female of medium height, with long straight black hair, in her thirties. She was dressed in an elaborate dress, which was almost Vulcan-like in its appearance. Johnson already knew this woman, from the previous conversations they had together.
        “Ambassador Selenta, good to see you again,” Johnson smiled.
        Selenta nodded slightly and smiled as well. “And you, Captain Johnson.”
        “Ready to come aboard?”
        “Yes, my aide and I are ready to come aboard,” Selenta said.
        “Allright, we’ll see you in a few minutes.”

        Johnson, Favor, and Ironsides stood before the transporter platform in the transporter room. The ensign stationed in the room double checked her controls.
        “We’re prepared to come aboard,” Selenta’s voice said over the comm system.
        Johnson glanced at the ensign and nodded, giving the silent command to energize. The ensign acknowledged the nod and announced, “Transporting three Romulans aboard.”
        “Three?” Favor turned in confusion. Johnson smiled at the ambassador. “Who else-?” Favor started to speak when the familiar blue shimmer of Federation transporter technology appeared on the transporter platform. Favor watched as three pillar of lights coalesced into solid beings. The first two were the ambassador and her assistant, just as Favor expected. Upon seeing the other, Favor widened his eyes in surprise. Then he grinned broadly.
        “Selari!” he shouted out. He rushed up to the platform to the surprise visitor, another Romulan female. The woman opened up her arms to embrace him. Johnson grinned as he watched the reunion.
        “It’s been years,” Favor said as he pulled away from Selari’s embrace.
        “Yes it has. More than seven of your years,” Selari nodded. Favor looked at her, taking in the sight of her. She was dressed in a simple dress, typical of Romulan fashion, mostly silver with green threads interwoven in the long skirt. Her long black hair was unadorned with ornaments. Several streaks of silver ran through the black.
        “Look at you. Still as beautiful as ever,” Favor smiled. “Silver hair now,” he gestured to her hair.
        “We all age,” she smiled. “Years have gone by. You don’t look the same as you used to.”
        “Really?” Favor frowned.
        “Don’t worry. I still love you nevertheless,” Selari smiled.
        “I love you too as well,” Favor said, as he hugged Selari again. They kissed warmly.
        Johnson sighed, and thought about his wife, Lisa Stone-Johnson. He missed her dearly. He wondered how she was faring at Starfleet Headquarters. In a few days, he was due to have a meeting with Headquarters, so he would probably get to talk with her then. The thought warmed his heart.
        “Ahem,” Johnson cleared his throat. Favor and Selari pulled apart, and he led her down the step off the platform. Selenta and her aide approached Johnson. The captain held his right fist to his left breast, in the traditional Romulan gesture of honor. He bowed his head slightly.
        Selenta smiled and offered her hand to shake with Johnson. They shook hands. “Ambassador Selenta, welcome aboard the U.S.S. Courageous.”
        “I am pleased to be finally on your ship,” Selenta replied. “May I present my aide, T’yaanki?” She gestured to the young Romulan female at her side. He guessed she was only about 18 or 19. T'yaanki bowed slightly. Johnson nodded, acknowledging her bow.
        “And of course, you know my friend and mentor, Selari,” the ambassador gestured to the other woman by Favor’s side.
        “Yes I do,” Johnson smiled at Selari. “I am glad you were able to make it for this visit.”
        “I am too, very much so,” Selari smiled.
        “You knew about this?” Favor narrowed his eyes at the captain.
        Johnson shrugged slightly. “I may have had something to do with it.”
        “Thanks,” Favor smiled.
        Johnson nodded silently. He looked at the others. “Come, let us show you your quarters.” He went up to the transporter pad and lifted up Selenta’s bag, putting the strap on his shoulder.
        Selenta held out a hand. “I can do that myself.”
        “It’s no problem, you’re our guests,” Johnson smiled. He picked up T'yaanki’s bag. Favor took his cue and took Selari’s bag. Johnson gestured to the doors leading out into the corridors of the Courageous.

        Garak walked onto the bridge, carrying a PADD. He paused, startled at the viewscreen. He sighed, composing himself. Bogarde noticed his reaction as he turned around to see who entered the bridge. “The Romulan ships, huh?” he asked knowingly.
        “I must admit, I have not entirely given up my old mind set regarding the Romulans,” Garak tilted his head. He looked at the PADD in his hand. “Is the captain available? I have a sensor report to give to him.”
        “No he isn’t.” Bogarde said as he turned back to his station. “He’s on deck 14, showing the Romulans to their quarters. You could go down there and give the report to him.”
        “Ah, no thank you. I think I shall just leave it in his ready room.” Garak paused for a moment. “I assume the Romulans’ tour will begin shortly?”
        Bogarde nodded as he ran his fingers over the security console. “Lieutenant Kyle will be giving them a tour after they’re settled into their quarters.”
        “I see,” Garak nodded slowly. “I feel that’d be an unwise course of action. After all, isn’t the Courageous one of the most technologically advanced ships in Starfleet? I’m sure the Romulans would love to learn all about this ship...”
        Bogarde looked askance at Garak. “The lieutenant will be giving them the usual surface tour, with some misinformation thrown in...the usual P.R. crap. The guests won’t see anything new.”
        When Garak’s concerned expression didn’t change, Bogarde grinned slightly. “Don’t worry, Garak. I’ve given them a full security scan as an usual precaution.” Bogarde turned and leaned back onto the console, crossing his large muscular arms. “In addition to that, I’ve scanned their molecules. As I transported them aboard, I held their patterns in the transporter buffer for a few seconds longer, and scanned for any known explosives, energy weapons, scanners, audio bugs, tracking bugs, video bugs, viruses, retro-viruses, bacterium, poisons, toxins, biological weapons, organic weapons, nano-weapons...anything that would threaten my Courageous.”
        The Cardassian looked at the tall security chief with a look of bemusement. “My dear sir, you put my paranoid tendencies to shame.”
        Bogarde shrugged, and turned to look at his consoles. “That’s what they pay me for, to be paranoid.”
        “Mmm.” Garak walked down towards the ready room. He entered the ready room, and after a moment, he reappeared and walked back to the turbolift. He paused and turned to look at Bogarde. “Deck 14 you say?”
        “Right.”
        The Cardassian sighed, and looked at the viewscreen. “I shall endeavor to avoid that deck for the duration of our guests’ stay.”
        Bogarde looked up at Garak. He shrugged, understanding Garak’s caution. No matter what the Romulans felt currently about the Federation, the Cardassians weren’t exactly welcomed. He made a mental note to report that point to the captain.
        Garak looked at the black man. “Those scans...they came up clear, didn’t they?”
        “Of course,” Bogarde nodded. “I let them aboard, didn’t I? If they tried to bring something aboard, well...” Bogarde gave Garak a mirthless grin, a grin with a hint of menace to it.
        “Mmm,” Garak nodded slightly. “Well, I feel much safer, knowing that you’re on the job. Have a good day, Chief Bogarde,” Garak said just before entering the turbolift.

        “I hope you find these quarters to your liking,” Johnson said as he set down Selenta’s personal bag down by the desk. Selenta walked up and down the length of the guest quarters, taking in the sight of the alien environment.
        “Quite typical of Federation decor,” she remarked, simply. “Rather spartan.”
        “Well as you requested, we didn’t make any changes for your behalf,” Johnson looked around. “Except for a second bed for your aide.” The quarters were nearly identical to the hundreds of others onboard the Courageous. There was a simple couch and coffee table set, a desk with a built in computer. The walls were light tan, and adorned simply with generic paintings. “Although we could have easily replicated traditional Romulan furniture or decorations to make you feel more at home.”
        Selenta looked at the captain. “No changes were necessary at all. In fact, I find it very helpful to live within the surroundings of my host...it helps me gain some insight as to how my hosts think.”
        “That’s true,” Favor remarked, from his place at Selari’s side. “I’ve lived in a lot of places, and my surroundings were an invaluable source of information. I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am if I had stayed in Federation lodgings in my travels.”
        Johnson pursed his lips, nodding. “That makes sense.” He looked around. “Well, you’ll find these quarters pretty much the standard. At least in the beginning. Over time, our crew usually decorates their quarters to their liking...adding pictures from their homeworld...their traditional furniture, and so forth. It helps them.”
        “I see,” Selenta nodded sagely, as she paced towards the bedroom. She stood at the doorway, letting the sensors detect her presence. She looked into the room after the door slid open for her. Then she turned to look at the bathroom sink, and the other amenities. She walked back into the living space, and clasped her hands together. “It all seems satisfactory,” she finally said.
        “Good, I’m glad,” Johnson smiled. “Well, I can give you all some time to unpack and get settled in, before the tour starts. Lieutenant Janet Kyle, my second officer, is due to take you all on a tour in twenty minutes.”
        “That will be fine, thank you,” Selenta said.
        “I’ll stay with Selari and help her unpack,” Favor said.
        “Okay,” Johnson nodded. Looking at the newcomers, he nodded. “Enjoy your tour and your stay on the Courageous.” He and Ironsides walked out of the quarters.
        Favor hefted Selari’s bag, and guided her out of the quarters to her own guest quarters, leaving Selenta and T'yaanki behind to begin their unpacking.
        
        Favor plopped Selari’s bag down on the bed, and took the Romulan into his arms, kissing her deeply and passionately. She wrapped her arms around him, returning the passion. Her hands went to Favor’s neck, stroking him. The kiss lasted for a long passionate while, until Selari finally disengaged herself from him.
        The two of them stood there, breathing heavily, flushed with emotions and desire. Selari broke the charged silence. “I was not aware that was what Terrans mean by unpacking.”
        Favor smiled and chuckled softly. “No. That’s what us Terrans call ‘kissing our lovers after not seeing them for a long while.’ ”
        Selari looked up into Favor’s eyes and smiled. She put her arms around Favor’s waist and drew him close to her. “I love you.”
        Favor kissed her. “I love you too.” She put her head on his shoulder, and he held her. The two lovers held each other for several long silent seconds. Then Favor felt a pair of hands struggling with his belt.
        He looked down to see Selari trying to undo his metal buckle. He looked into Selari’s eyes, seeing a mischievous gleam in them. He smiled back. She backed him to the bed, and pushed him. He flopped back onto the bed, laying on his back. Selari finally undid Favor’s belt buckle and unzipped his pants. She then hiked up her dress, revealing smooth olive skinned legs. She climbed up onto the bed, and straddled Favor.

        “Ah, here’s Ambassador Favor and Selari,” Lieutenant Kyle remarked, seeing the two of them walk down the corridor. Selenta and T'yaanki stood with the captain in the corridor, next to the door of Selenta’s quarters.
        “Sorry we’re late,” Favor said, as they arrived to the group.
        “That’s allright,” Kyle nodded. “Did you finish unpacking?” she asked Selari.
        A faint smile played at the corners of Selari’s mouth, which did not go unnoticed by the others. “Uh, yes, we did,” she replied. Selenta shot Selari a questioning glance. Selari merely looked away in response.
        Kyle noticed the exchange, and looked at Favor. The corner of her mouth upturned in a slight smirk. “Well, since we’re all here, let’s begin.”
        “Uh, do you mind if Selari and I go off by ourselves?” Favor asked Kyle. “I can give her the tour.”
        “Oh, that’s fine,” she replied.
        “I’ll start with the saucer section,” he said.
        “Okay,” Kyle nodded.
        Favor lifted his arm out, offering it to Selari. She smiled and put her arm around his arm. The two of them set off down the corridor towards the starboard turbolift.
        Kyle turned around to face Selenta. She saw that the Romulan diplomat was also looking down the corridor at Selari and Favor. The ambassador turned to look at the lieutenant. Selenta raised a slanted eyebrow and gave Kyle a knowing smirk.
        Kyle smiled back in return, shrugging slightly. Selenta looked back at the couple in the distance for another second. Then she cleared her throat and said, “Let’s proceed with the tour.”
        “Allright. We’ll begin with Engineering,” Kyle nodded. She waved her hand to indicate the direction to the port turbolift. As Kyle and Selenta started walking down the opposite direction. T'yaanki shot a dark glance back at Selari and Favor, a glance that went unnoticed by Kyle and Selenta. Then the diplomatic aide raised her green PADD and set off after Kyle and Selenta.

        Johnson signed off on the last status report, and put the PADD down on his desk along with the other PADDs. He spread his fingers and placed his hands, palms down, on the bare space in front of him on the top of his desk. He looked at the papers and the PADDs stacked around him on the desk. “Hm,” he remarked, mildly surprised. “I’m done.”
        He pushed away against the desk and stood up, flexing his fingers. He walked out of ready room, onto the bridge. Major Ironsides, being the senior officer on the bridge, was seated in the command chair. Upon hearing the familiar sound of an opening door, Ironsides turned to see Johnson walk out. He stood to let the captain take his seat. Ironsides went over to his post at OPS, dismissing the junior bridge officer that was standing there in his stead.
        Ironsides took a cursory glance over the OPS console and looked over at his commanding officer. “All systems nominal, sir.”
        “Good,” Johnson remarked. “Any new communications from our chaperones?” he asked Ironsides, tilting his head towards the viewscreen which showed the Romulan Warbirds.
        “No, sir,” Ironsides answered. “They haven’t hailed us since our initial rendezvous.”
        “I see.” Johnson leaned against the armrest of his seat, tapping the console. “Ensign LeAnn?” the captain called out to the female pilot, at the helm. The half-Bajoran, half-human looked up from her console to reply.
        “Yes, sir?”
        “Have you been matching the course of these escort ships exactly?”
        “Aye, sir, as per their orders,” LeAnn replied.
        Johnson put a hand to his chin. “I want to try something.”
        “What, sir?”
        “I want you to deviate from their course by a margin of say...15%.”
        “Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Ruiz, the navigator, replied. It was her job to plot courses and effect changes, while LeAnn oversaw actual flight. “Course change plotted and laid in, sir.”
        “Engage,” Johnson said.
        “Engaging, sir,” LeAnn announced.
        Barely few seconds passed when Bogarde called out, “We’re being hailed by the Romulans.”
        “Ah,” Johnson said. “Well, by all means, put it on screen.”
        The starscape changed to a view of the lead escort commander, a severe looking Romulan. “You have deviated from our course. Correct your error now.”
        “What?” Johnson remarked in surprise, raising his eyebrows for good effect. Briefly, he wondered if the Romulan commander knew that raised eyebrows on humans usually indicated surprise. He went on with his ruse. “I did? Ensign, report.”
        LeAnn picked up from Johnson. “Wait, sir. Yes, there seems to be a drift. Compensating with thrusters, sir. We’re back on course.”
        “Thank you, Ensign. Don’t let it happen again.”
        “I won’t, sir,” LeAnn replied, remorseful.
        Johnson looked up at the Romulan commander. “I apologize and thank you for pointing out our error to me. It shall not happen again.”
        The Romulan didn’t even reply. He gave a wordless glance to a subordinate off screen, and the connection was shut off.
        “Charming man,” Ruiz remarked.
        “You saw it too?” LeAnn smiled.
        “Oh yes. He was positively dripping with charm.”
        “Do Romulans even drip?” LeAnn mused.
        Johnson looked at his helmsmen with bemusement. “Well, Captain Picard would probably quote Shakespeare at this point. Something like ‘If you prick me do I not bleed? Do I not laugh?’ or some such line. I do know for a fact that Romulans bleed, laugh and cry just like us. Although I’d hazard our particular commander doesn’t laugh very often.”
        “I don’t think he’s enjoying babysitting us,” Ironsides said. “I know I wouldn’t be enjoying it if the situation were reversed.”
        “You have a point there, Commander. Well, we’ve established that they have their eyes on us, and won’t let us step out of line. Helm. let’s toe the line.”
        Ruiz and LeAnn replied “Aye, sir,” simultaneously. The bridge fell silent for the next few moments. Only the faint bleeping of various computer monitors and the subsonic vibration of the Courageous’s warp engines were heard.
        LeAnn looked over at Ruiz. “Are you looking forward to the reception for the Romulans tonight?”
        “Sure,” Ruiz nodded.
        “You know, I’ve never tasted Romulan Ale,” LeAnn offered. “Do you think Quark will have it at the reception?”
        “Oh, I’m sure he will have it there.” Ruiz looked over to LeAnn. “Do you have an early morning shift tomorrow?”
        “No,” LeAnn replied, puzzled.
        “Good,” Ruiz smiled.
        “Why? What do you mean?” LeAnn asked.

        “And that’s Engineering,” Kyle finished. She ushered Selenta and T'yaanki out of the large double doors. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer but apparently there’s a problem that they need to resolve.”
        “The problem was our presence,” Selenta stated.
        Kyle opened her mouth to protest, but the ambassador’s bluntness prompted her not to attempt a placating explanation. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. I’m afraid we have to limit what you see on your tour.”
        “Understood. We would do the same,” Selenta smiled. She looked back at the closed doors of Engineering. “I don’t mind at all. Neither my aide nor I really understand Engineering- warp field geometries and power flows and so forth. We’d be poor spies for our government.” She gave Kyle an disarming smile.
        Kyle couldn’t help but smile at the ambassador’s joke. “I understand what you mean.” They set off down the corridor towards a turbolift. “In fact, that reminds me of an amusing incident that happened about six years ago to me.”
        “Oh yes?” Selenta prodded, interested.
        “Yes. At the time, I was stationed at Starfleet Headquarters on Earth. Part of my duties was to take schoolchildren on tours of Starfleet Plaza. One stop was in the Engineering building, and we met the Head of Starfleet Engineering. He decided to give an impromptu talk to the children.
        “He asked if any of the children knew how warp drive worked. Only one child raised his hand. I believe his name was Patrick. James, the Engineering head, asked Patrick how warp drive worked. The boy replied, ‘I know this because my daddy is a starship captain. I’ve seen him use warp drive.’ James asked, ‘Really? How does it work? How does it make a ship go faster than light?’
        “Patrick then said, ‘All you have to do is say is “Engage.’ That was the cutest thing I ever heard,” Kyle laughed.
        “Very interesting,” Selenta smiled, nodding. T'yaanki merely glanced at her PADD, taking notes. Kyle looked at the aide and her PADD. They entered the turbolift, and Kyle told the computer her selected deck. Then she looked over at Selenta.
        “Will the PADD translate that into Romulan?” she asked.
        “Yes, it has a built in transcriber. It’ll record you in Terran and Romulan.”
        “Okay. I was just making sure. I didn’t want your aide’s notes to end up useless.”
        “Thank you for your concern. What is our next destination?” Selenta asked.
        “The main science labs,” Kyle replied as the turbolift set into motion. Selenta nodded, acknowledging the response.

        “Are you enjoying the tour so far?” Favor asked Selari. The female Romulan nodded, smiling.
        “Yes, I am. I particularly like the handsome tour guide.”
        Favor chuckled.
        “But seriously, yes. Yes, I am enjoying the tour. The Courageous is a very impressive ship.” Selari looked around in the bare corridor, elaborately checking for people nearby. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I know I may be committing treason by saying this, but I would like to serve aboard this ship more than the most advanced ship in the Romulan Space Fleet.” She smiled up at Favor.
        Favor smiled and squeezed Selari’s hand, which was in his hand. “Hey, why don’t you? Let’s get married. Then you can stay with me.”
        Selari laughed sweetly, shaking her head at Favor’s comment. He blushed slightly and shrugged. “Well I was kind of being serious there.”
        “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you,” Selari offered. “Um, well...this is kind of sudden. I don’t know...”
        When Favor’s smile began fading, Selari quickly added, “Of course, it’s a very tempting prospect. I don’t know if the timing is right. Let me think about it, allright?”
        “Allright,” Favor nodded. “Well, if you won’t be my bride, will you at least be my date to the reception this evening?”
        “I accept, as long as you are my date to the dinner on Romulus,” Selari responded.
        “Ah good!” Favor grinned broadly. He bent his head to kiss Selari. After the kiss, Favor paused. “What dinner?”
        “Oh, I thought you were informed of that. The Praetor wishes to hold a dinner on Romulus in honor of our Federation guests. It will be on the evening of your arrival to the homeworld.”
        “Ah, I see. That is very kind of the Praetor. Um, we’ll have to make a detour from our tour. I need to go to 11-Forward right now. Do you mind?” Selari shook her head, indicating she didn’t. Favor hurriedly took her to the nearest turbolift.

        “Quark!” Favor called out as he and Selari entered 11-Forward. He stopped short, looking around at ribbons of green and blue colored crepe paper lining the windows and walls of the lounge.
        “What is it?” Quark paused, on a stepladder. He was in the middle of hanging more colored paper.
        “What the hell is this?” Favor asked.
        Quark rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Green and blue. The Romulan State colors. For the reception tonight?”
        “That’s the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Favor replied. “It’s a formal reception, not a birthday party! Ah, never mind. We have worse things to discuss.”
        Quark got down off the stepladder and walked up to the bar as Favor approached the bar. “What is it?”
        “We’re having dinner on Romulus when we arrive there,” Favor said.
        “So?”
        “It’s a formal dinner...?” Favor stared at Quark, raising his eyebrows.
        “And your point is...?” Quark shook his head, then stopped. “Oh. Oh no.”
        “Yes...” Favor nodded sadly. “We’ve got to hold a dinner on the Courageous for the Romulans to return the gesture.”
        Quark went around to behind the bar, and pulled out a PADD, thumbing it on. “Allright, thanks for letting me know so quickly. How many guests should we expect?”
        Favor turned to Selari. “What kind of a dinner are they expecting?”
        Selari shrugged and waved her hand. “Oh, just a small intimate dinner.”
        Favor turned back to Quark. “At least fifty people.” Quark nodded and scribbled notes onto the PADD. Favor turned back to Selari. “Is the Praetor going to come aboard?”
        “I believe so,” Selari nodded.
        “Quark, better make that at least a hundred people,” Favor nodded to the Ferengi. Quark nodded, making revisions.
        “I’m going to have to find my Romulan entree replicator files...I only made Romulans hors d’oeuvres for tonight...”
        “Don’t forget Romulan Ale. We need to buy more,” Favor tapped on the PADD.
        “Lots more,” Quark nodded. He looked up at Favor and sighed. “Why don’t we just replicate the ale?”
        “Oh, they’d know the difference,” Favor nodded slowly to emphasize his point. “Things are on a delicate level here. The slightest little insult might unravel things for us, and for the Federation. I had to fight long and hard to even get them to consider a trade treaty. So I’m not going to let a certain cheap Ferengi screw things up just because he doesn’t want to buy more Romulan Ale.”
        “Point taken,” Quark backed away. “I’ll contact my supplier and put in another order for more ale.”
        “Good,” Favor nodded. “I’ll talk to you about this later, ok?”
        “Fine, fine. Just let me get back to work. I still have the reception to set up for tonight.”
        Favor and Selari walked to the doors, preparing to leave. “Oh yeah,” Favor paused and turned around. “Quark!”
        “What?!” the Ferengi shouted back, looking up from his PADD.
        “One more thing,” said Favor. He pointed a finger upwards and waved it around the lounge at the colored bunting. Favor shook his head. “Take it down.”
        “Aye, aye, sir,” Quark scowled.
        Favor and Selari exited 11-Forward, and headed for the nearby turbolift. After a quick trip down several decks, they headed down a long hallway. “Down here are the hydroponics bays. Oh yes, there,” Favor pointed to a doorway near them. “That’s the ship’s counselor’s office. We have two qualified psycho-therapists aboard to help our crew with personal issues.”
        “Mmhmm, I see,” Selari nodded. The two of them noticed a man walking up to the office doors.
        “Ed?” Favor said as he saw his good friend walk towards the office. Hartman saw Favor and his guest, and walked over.
        “Hey, Nathan. How’re you doing?” Hartman said.
        “I’d like to introduce you to my good friend, and the Chief Medical Officer of the Courageous. Edward Hartman.”
        “Nice to meet you,” Selari said, shaking Hartman’s hand.
        Favor gestured to Selari. “And this is Selari. You know about her, of course.”
        “Yes I do. Pleased to meet you as well,” Hartman smiled. “It’s very nice to meet the woman who finally tamed Nathan Favor.”
        Selari laughed. “Well I wouldn’t say I tamed him... at least not fully. I’d prefer that he retain some undomesticated traits.”
        Favor grinned and shook his head. He looked at Hartman. “Are we interrupting anything? You looked as if you needed to go into the counselor’s office.”
        Hartman looked at the doors then back at Favor. “Uh, no I wasn’t. Well, yes, I was supposed to meet with the counselors, some sort of medical briefing. Had some free time, and thought I’d stop by. Nothing important. I guess I’ll do it another time. You guys are on a tour of the ship, right? Don’t let me interrupt. Where are you going next?”
        “Nathan was taking me to the hydroponics bays,” Selari offered.
        “Ah. The Courageous has some fine agriculture facilities here. You’ll enjoy it. Nathan, I’ll talk to you later.”
        “Okay,” Favor nodded. “See you tonight at the reception.”
        “Ah yes, the reception. No problem, see you then. Once again, it was great meeting you finally, Selari. I shall see you later tonight.”
        Selari smiled, and Hartman made his way down the corridor. Favor looked at him with a quizzical expression on his face. He shrugged, and turned to face Selari. “Onwards to the hydroponics bays.”

Chapter Two

        Johnson walked over to the bathroom mirror and checked his appearance. His hair was neatly trimmed, and his face was clean shaven. His white dress uniform was freshly replicated and wrinkle-free, the golden piping glinting in the lights. His four golden captain’s pips were parallel to the curve of his collar. Of course, no one would misidentify him or his rank. After all, he was the commanding officer of the Courageous.
        
        In the turbolift, Johnson met Dr. Hartman, also in his white dress uniform, also similarly grey paneled. Since the reception was a formal affair, all of the attending command staff was required to be in dress whites.
        The only difference between Hartman and Johnson was the fact that Johnson’s white tunic was all white, where Hartman’s tunic had a grey chest panel. Johnson’s all white tunic indicated his Commanding Officer’s status.
        “You look sharp,” Johnson smiled at Hartman.
        “Thanks, so do you,” Hartman nodded. “You know, this is the first time I’ve worn the new dress uniform. My last one was the old style. The one with the long tunic, down to my thighs. I think I like this design better.”
        “Yeah?” Johnson looked at Hartman. “Ah, it’s allright, although it kind of feels like the tuxedo I wore for my weddings.”
        Hartman chuckled.
        The turbolift doors opened, and Johnson walked out, followed by Hartman. The two of them walked through the large double wooden sliding doors, entering Eleven Forward.
        Most of the command staff were there, standing in various small groups, talking. Tradition dictated that the subordinates arrived early, and the senior staff and the guests of honors arrived last. A quick glance around the room told Johnson that the guests hadn’t yet arrived.
        “Welcome!” Quark said, stepping into Johnson’s and Hartman’s path. He held up a silver tray which had small cubes of food arranged neatly in the center. “Hors d’oeuvres?”
        “Uh, not now, thank you,” Johnson lightly waved the tray away. “The guests aren’t here yet?”
        “No,” Quark shook his large bulbous head. “Ambassador Favor did contact me a few moments ago. He and his party shall be arriving any time.”
        Immediately after the words came out of Quark’s toothy mouth, the telltale swoosh of doors opening made them turn around.
        “Speak of the devil,” Hartman smiled. Ambassador Favor and the Romulan guests walked in. Favor was holding Selari’s arm looped around his, while Selenta walked next to Favor’s vacant side. T’yaanki walked behind Selenta as usual, always the dutiful aide.
        Favor was dressed in an elaborate outfit. The ambassadorial robes he wore tonight were more extravagant than he usually wore. Hartman noted with amusement the glittery adornments that bejeweled the strips of his robe. His grin broadened when he noticed Selari was wearing a dress that perfectly complemented Favor’s robes.
        Upon hearing Hartman’s remarks regarding the couple’s outfit, Johnson shook his head. “Isn’t that always like him, always making an fashionable entrance?”
        “Don’t forget his exits,” Hartman smirked. The two old comrades could easily recall several very memorable exits Favor had to make in the past. Most of them were under made under threat of bodily harm.
        Favor and the others made their greetings to several people nearby the lounge’s entrance. Quark went up to Favor to confer with him privately.
        Favor and the Romulans approached Johnson and the others. Johnson stood at attention “On behalf of the crew of the U.S.S. Courageous and myself, we welcome the honored Ambassador Selenta, the honored Selari, and Mistress T’yaanki to our ship.”
        “We thank you,” Selenta bowed, smiling. Suddenly music began playing through the lounge’s comm system. Johnson looked up, listening to the music. He furrowed his brow.
        Quark came up to them, offering the silver food laden tray again. “Quark, what’s that music?” Johnson asked the Ferengi. Before Quark could reply, Selenta answered.
        “That is a work of the famed Romulan composer, R’Bahc.”
        Johnson raised his eyebrow. “Really? I’m a fan of music...but I’ve never had the occasion to listen to Romulan music.”
        “Ah, that is a shame. I have always felt that Romulan music has been under appreciated outside Romulan territory.”
        “Tell me more,” Johnson smiled, as he and Selenta stepped over to the large bay windows which afforded them a view of warp streaked stars.
        “Certainly. This particular piece, ‘Ahael T’Menaor’ is one of R’Bahc’s best known works. You might compare it to one of your Beethoven’s Piano Sonatas...” Hartman couldn’t hear the rest of what Selenta said once they got out of earshot.
        He drew a deep breath, and put his hands together behind his back, smiling.
        A waiter, dressed in white, stepped up to Hartman. He presented a tray filled with an assortment of beverages? “Would you like something to drink? We have Betazoid Ice Champagne, Saurian Brandy, and of course, today’s special, Romulan Ale.” The waiter smiled.
        Hartman stared at the drinks on the tray. He licked his lips and sighed, rubbing his hands together, behind his back. Finally, after a long moment’s pause, he shook his head firmly. “No. No, nothing to drink for me tonight. Just ice water.”
        “Very well, sir,” the waiter nodded, walking away towards the bar.
        “No drinking tonight,” Hartman said to himself. He drew in a steadying breath and turned, scanning the room. He saw the tall white haired half-Bajoran, half-Betazoid, Raven, standing with Favor and Selari. T’yaanki had picked an isolated location in the lounge, standing by herself.
        Hartman thought she looked a little lonely, but he couldn’t imagine what passed for small talk amongst Romulans. He decided to go over to Raven and Favor. He got within earshot to hear the tail end of Raven’s question.
        “...level of psi skills?” the tall military officer asked.
        Selari took a deep breath. “Well, ever since the ‘Sundering,’ the breakaway from the Vulcans long ago, Romulan psionic skills have gradually diminished to latent levels. So I’m afraid I can’t tell you where Romulans rate on the psi level, in comparison to say... Betazoids.” Selari shrugged, spreading her hands.
        “However,” she mused, “on occasion, a Romulan is born with a dominant telepathic gene. But it only happens once in 500...or a thousand generations. I’m not sure of the exact odds.”
        “Interesting,” Hartman nodded. “I was not aware of that.”
        “It’s not a widely known fact,” Selari told the doctor and the others. “However, it is such a rare instance I feel it’s not quite a breach of national security to tell you.” She smiled.
        “I can see that,” Hartman said. “Also, if one thought about it, one would naturally come to that conclusion. Basic genetics. Of course, it might be possible to genetically engineer telepaths if you had a natural telepath in the first place...”
        Selari looked up at Raven. “May I inquire as to why you asked that question?”
        Raven nodded slowly. “I have some psionic skills. I was born of a Bajoran father and a Betazoid mother.”
        “Ah, I see,” Selari nodded. Hartman glanced around and saw Lieutenant Ruiz and Ensign LeAnn sitting at the bar, with a bottle of blue Romulan Ale. A short distance down the bar was Kyle, sitting by herself with a drink.

        “Okay, you ready?” Ruiz nodded expectantly.
        LeAnn eyed the shotglass of blue liquid uneasily. “Uh, I guess I am.”
        “It’s just like tequila, remember that? From the Cancun holodeck program I showed you two weeks ago?”
        “Yes, Amanda, I remember that. And I remember the worm,” the young ensign glared at Ruiz pointedly.
        “The worm’s the best part of tequila,” Ruiz sighed. “You would have never drank it if I told you about it before hand.” Ruiz picked up a shotglass of Romulan Ale, and clinked it against LeAnn’s glass. “Now come on. Bottoms up!”
        “There’s no worm in this, right?”
        Ruiz sighed. “For the hundredth time, no. Come on. Down the hatch.”
        LeAnn sighed, then put the glass to her lips. Ruiz did the same. On a silent count, they drank their shots. LeAnn smiled at Ruiz, setting the glass down.
        Then she coughed violently, gasping for air. Ruiz was grimacing, grunting at the taste. Then the lieutenant laughed, and poured another shot into LeAnn’s glass and in her own glass, while the ensign was battling her first strong taste of Romulan Ale.

        Lieutenant Kyle broke away from her conversation with an Engineering officer seated next to her at the bar. She spied Ruiz and LeAnn. She smiled, shaking her head at the sight of LeAnn doubled over on the stool. She remembered her first taste, and smiled in spite of the memory of the harsh taste and the vomiting the morning after.
        Quickly, she recalled LeAnn’s next duty shift. She nodded, remembering that it wasn’t until the third shift. Ensign LeAnn would have time to recover.
        Kyle turned her attention away from LeAnn and Ruiz and back to the piece of greenish bread she was nibbling on. A clatter of glasses drew the captain’s attention. Quark walked behind the bar, depositing a tray of dirty glasses and bent to retrieve a tray of clean glasses. He stood up straight, and noticed Kyle’s posture.
        “Something wrong, Lieutenant?” he asked.
        “Oh, not really,” Kyle shook her head.
        “Bored?”
        “No,” she answered, then paused. “Well...yeah. Slightly.”
        “That’s not good business to have a bored customer in the middle of a party. What is it? Is it the music? The decorations?” Quark nodded convinced. “I bet it’s the decorations. I had festive ribbons up all over the place and Favor told me-”
        “No, it’s not the party at all,” Kyle held out a hand, stopping Quark mid-sentence. “It’s...” she struggled to articulate the problem, then stopped. “I don’t know. But it certainly is not the party, Quark. It’s a fine party. I’m just tired. Normally I wouldn’t have woke up until 1600 hours, but I had to pull three shifts today, to take the Romulans on the tour. Everyone looks like they’re having fun though.”
        “Except for you and that Romulan female over there,” Quark nodded his head over to T’yaanki. “She looks half asleep.” He shook his head, disappointed at the apparent disaster his party was.
        “Mmm, I know how she feels.” Kyle nodded. The young Romulan must have been tired out from the long day’s worth of touring as well. Kyle’s own heels slightly ached from the long walking. She remembered that Selenta mentioned that this was T’yaanki’s first ambassadorial assignment, and her first time in direct contact with the Federation.
        She reached down to massage her sore calf. If she were CO, she wouldn’t have to be giving these tours. Today’s tour probably wouldn’t be her last. If the Borderlands mission was a success, she’d be giving plenty of tours to the new alien races they made contact with. Being the Second Officer sucked sometimes, she thought to herself.

        “Going down better now?” Ruiz asked, glancing at LeAnn.
        LeAnn nodded. “You’re right, after the first couple, you don’t really notice the taste much.”
        “Well, take it easy. Have a beer now,” Ruiz said. She motioned for the bartender for two beers.
        LeAnn sighed and leaned on the bar, resting her chin on her hands. “I thought Bajoran beer was strong... but this stuff puts it to shame.”
        Ruiz chuckled. “Yeah. You know, have I told you that you look great in that uniform?”
        LeAnn looked down at her dress uniform. “Oh, thank you. I just hope I don’t stain it badly later on.”
        “Ah, stains are easy to get out. Just toss them back into the replicator. No more stains.”
        “You look good tonight too, Amanda.”
        “Thank you. So why didn’t you come with a date to the reception? I heard a few guys asked you out.” Ruiz commented.
        LeAnn shrugged as the bartender brought two mugs of golden beer, setting them before the women. She picked up the beer and sipped at it. After setting the mug back down, she glanced at Ruiz. “Wasn’t really interested in going out with any of the guys that asked.”
        “Not your type?”
        “Well, I don’t really have a type. I either like the person, or I don’t.”
        Ruiz nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like the way I do things.” She leaned forward. “Mind if I ask a personal question?”
        LeAnn shook her head.
        “What’s your preference?”
        “What do you mean?”
        “Dating a Bajoran, or a non-Bajoran?”
        LeAnn chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Finally she shook her head. “I don’t really care one way or another. Just because I’m half-Bajoran doesn’t mean I have to date only Bajorans. I’m not going to limit myself like that.”
        “I see,” Ruiz nodded.
        “How about you? I don’t see you with a date tonight,” LeAnn smiled.
        “You’re my date,” Ruiz laughed.
        “Really? Cool. Am I being a good date?” LeAnn asked.
        “You’re great, so far.”
        “So far?” LeAnn gave Ruiz a mock frown. “I’ll have you know that I’m a great date, from start to end.”
        “Well, we’ll see,” Ruiz laughed, picking up her beer.

        Raven smiled and excused himself from Selari and the others, and he scanned the lounge. He noticed very few Bajorans in attendance at the reception. He did see a few, including Dr. Joh Emmeril. The science officer was standing near the bay windows.
        He made his way up to the next platform towards her. “Good evening,” he said, announcing his presence.
        After a moment, she turned, aware of his presence. “Good evening. Major, is it?”
        “Yes, Major Raven, but you may call me Raven. We met only briefly before, but we haven’t actually talked. How are you enjoying your posting on the Courageous?”
        “It’s different from my other postings. The science personnel seem competent, after a fashion.”
        Raven nodded, clasping his hands in front of him. “I see you do not have a drink. Would you like one?”
        “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
        Raven glanced at her, and finally noticed something that had been odd about her.
        The scientist looked every bit the typical Bajoran, wearing a simple Bajoran dress. Her once black hair, now greying heavily, was braided in a ponytail. Only one thing was missing, the traditional earring the Bajorans wore.
        Raven didn’t wear his earring, but that was only because his right ear, the proper ear, was badly damaged. Instead, he wore it on a chain around his neck. “I hope you don’t think me impertinent, but may I ask why you aren’t wearing an earring?”
        Joh looked up at Raven, who was significantly taller than her, and gazed at him. “I don’t choose to. It’s an archaic custom, one of many Bajoran traditions that I’ve eschewed.”
        “I can see your point. The D’jarras caste system is no longer observed, thanks to the Cardassian Occupation. Still, it’s a very longstanding tradition, one that most Bajorans I know observe.”
        “I’m not most Bajorans,” Joh replied.
        “I can see that.”
        Joh looked up at Raven. “I know you’re not full Bajoran. You aren’t obligated to observe Bajoran customs.”
        “Actually, I do feel obligated. I was raised according Bajoran and Betazoid customs. I’ve come to hold many Bajoran beliefs dear to my heart.”
        “Including Bajoran religion?”
        Raven nodded. He fingered his earring on the necklace. “The wisdom of the Prophets has been a great help and comfort to me through my life.” Raven narrowed his eyes. “Come to think of it, I don’t ever recall seeing you in Temple.”
        Joh shrugged. “That’s because I don’t go to Temple.”
        “You don’t?” Raven asked, slightly taken aback.
        “No. I don’t believe in the Prophets.” Before Raven could open his mouth, Joh nodded, holding up a hand to pause him. “I do acknowledge the existence of the non-linear aliens that reside within the Bajoran Wormhole, but as a scientist, I’d feel remiss in ascribing metaphysical qualities to them. I believe that one guides one’s own life, not an outside force. You might call me an atheist, after a fashion.”
        “I see.”

        “I think I’m going to be sick,” LeAnn declared.
        Ruiz laughed and looked at LeAnn’s queasy expression. “Well you better stop drinking, and get to the head!”
        “No,” LeAnn shook her head. “If I walk- if I even move, I’m going to vomit. Just let me stay still. Then I’ll be ok.”
        “Okay. I think you drank too much Romulan Ale, you’re starting to look green.” Ruiz chuckled again.
        
        “No, thank you. I’m not really interested in going out with you,” Kyle finished saying to the other lieutenant next to him. “I’m too busy right now.”
        The rejected and dejected Engineering officer slunk away with a sigh, leaving Kyle alone at the bar.
        Quark stepped in front of her. “I couldn’t help but overhear...”
        Kyle smirked at Quark’s boldfaced lie. “Look, number one, with those auditory organs, that’s a given. And number two, I know that you told Lieutenant Hiroshi that he had a chance with me.”
        “Well, it was a sale. He did buy you a drink, didn’t he?” Quark shrugged, as he set a tray of empty glasses in the replicator. “Actually, that’s what I wanted to know. Why didn’t you accept his offer? As far as I know, you have no romantic entanglements.”
        “And I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much,” Kyle replied. “I don’t intend to be a lieutenant very long. I don’t really have time for romantic pursuits. They can’t help my career, unless if it was to sleep with a superior officer.”
        “Well, after all, Rule of Acquisition number 113 is ‘Always sleep with the boss.’ ”
        “That was written for Ferengi society,” Kyle pointed out. “In Starfleet, it’s not as easy. My two superior officers are Major Ironsides and Captain Johnson. Ironsides, I just can’t envision him presenting me with a bouquet of flowers. As for the captain... he’s married.”
        “So?”
        Kyle shot Quark a dirty look. “Ah never mind.” Kyle sipped at her drink, the one Hiroshi purchased for her. After a moment’s thought, she set her glass down. “Hey Quark.”
        “Yes?”
        “About Rule number 113...”
        Quark narrowed his beady eyes. “Y-yes?”
        “I just realized something,” Kyle said. “These rules were written centuries ago, way before Ferengi women were allowed to enter commerce, weren’t they?”
        Quark nodded slowly, his eyes darting around nervously.
        “So... no females in business... means no female bosses. So then that means...?”
        Quark hastily picked up a tray of fresh glasses. “I’m sorry, I have to take these glasses to the buffet table.” He rushed off to the end of the bar.
        Kyle grinned and watched Quark carry the tray around the bar to the long buffet table. She looked around the room, and noticed T’yaanki still standing in her solitary position. Kyle swiveled around on her stool, reaching for her drink. The drink splashed onto Kyle’s outstretched hand. She paused momentarily confused. Then she realized the glass had fallen over, and so did several of the other glasses on the bar top.
        The first thought that went through her head was that the inertial dampeners had fluctuated, and the second subsequent thought was that the ship had been hit.
        Her train of thought was confirmed when red bars started flashing alongside the walls of Eleven Forward. A split second later, the warning klaxon of Red Alert replaced the Romulan music. She also thought she heard the sound of someone regurgitating violently.
        Kyle hopped down off the stool, quickly tapping her combadge to contact the bridge. She smiled with small pride as she saw the Starfleet crew clear out of the lounge, already reporting to their emergency stations. Ambassador Favor was herding his Romulan charges out of the lounge, taking them to safe quarters. Her combadge chimed and she heard Ironsides already talking.
        She saw Johnson talking into his combadge and realized that he was already in contact with the major, who had bridge duty.
        She joined Johnson as they rushed out into the corridors towards the turbolift that had the most direct route to the bridge.

        Ironsides was wrapping up his assessment over Johnson’s comm. “The small craft are looping around for another attack. I have shields up, and weapons ready to fire. Orders?”
        “Hold your fire until we get in touch with our escorts. Where the hell are they?” Johnson barked.
        “Unknown, the lead Romulan Warbird sustained what seems to be moderate damage to their warp drive and had to drop behind,” Ironsides reported. “We barely had enough time to adjust course to avoid ramming the aft section of the lead ship.”
        Johnson pounded against the wall of the moving turbolift, swearing silently. “Acknowledged. Keep hailing the attackers and our other escorts. Johnson out.”
        “Aye, sir.” The comlink went dead.
        Kyle looked at her commanding officer. “Do we know who’s attacking us?”
        “No,” Johnson shook his head angrily. “The major says that sensor readings are inconclusive, and the small craft are moving too fast for visual identification.”
        “Where’d they come from?”
        “Out of no where, Chief Bogarde says.” The turbolift doors opened and Johnson rushed out onto the bridge. The Courageous rocked under another burst of weapons fire, and Johnson grabbed hold of the edge of Bogarde’s tactical station, before stepping around to his command seat. Ironsides moved down to the right seat, still tapping on the command screen set between the captain’s seat and the first officer’s seat.
        “Report,” Johnson shouted.
        “Minimal damage,” Ironsides said, as Kyle sat down into the left officer’s seat next to Johnson. “Shields are at 98% strength, and weapons are ready.”
        “Bogarde, any response from our so-called Romulan escorts?” Johnson turned to look at the security chief behind him.
        “No response. I don’t know why. Maybe they sustained damage to communications, or the ships are jamming them.”
        “Have they fired on the attackers?”
        “Yes,” Bogarde’s deep voice replied. “The warbirds fired several shots at the lead attack craft, with no apparent direct hits.”
        “Do you have a lock on them?” Johnson leaned forward, looking at the viewscreen, scanning for any sign of the attackers.
        “No, sir. The computers can’t lock on, and they’re moving too fast for manual targeting,” Bogarde said, heaving a frustrated sigh. “Wait, sir, I think they’re coming about!” Bogarde looked up at the viewscreen. “Dead ahead!”
        “Brace for impact!” Johnson said.
        The impact never came. Johnson caught a quick glimpse of fleeting motion, then heard Bogarde growl.
        “Dammit! They went into warp. I’ve lost them,” the chief sighed.
        Johnson gritted his teeth, and sighed angrily. He sat erect in the command seat, his hands gripping the armrests tightly, his whole body still wired for action.
        “Captain, I don’t think they’re coming back,” Kyle ventured.
        Johnson stared at the screen, as if he could will his attackers to come back, so he could fight back. He grunted and looked at the command screen at his side. “Damage report, Lieutenant.”
        “Aye, sir,” Kyle replied. She looked at her screen calling up the proper information. “No fatalities, no hull damage, one casualty. Ensign Montoya sprained her ankle in the first attack.”
        Johnson’s armrest chimed. He thumbed the comlink open to receive the message.
        “Sickbay to Bridge. Is it over?” The CMO’s voice asked.
        “Yes, it seems to be so,” Johnson answered Dr. Hartman. “You won’t need to expect any more casualties. Except perhaps Romulan casualties.” Johnson turned to Bogarde. “Contact our escorts and offer assistance. Helm, locate the lead escort ship and double back to see if we can offer assistance.”
        The captain spoke again into his armrest. “We’ll keep you informed.”
        “Raven?” Hartman’s voice said surprised.
        “What is it?” Johnson leaned. Hartman’s voice became indistinct then clearer again. “It’s nothing. Raven just came in complaining of a mild headache. It’s not an injury.”
        “Oh, good. Okay,” Johnson nodded. “Well, inform him to be at the staff meeting in twenty minutes.”
        “Will do, sir. Sickbay out.”

        Johnson tapped his fingers on the smooth black table top of the conference room, and looked up to see Hartman and Raven enter the lounge. They were the last of the command staff to arrive. Johnson took a quick glance at Raven, and the older man seemed allright to him. He made a mental note to check up on Raven later. Only Ensign LeAnn was not present. Hartman had told him earlier via combadge that she was in sickbay.
        “Allright,” the captain cleared his throat. “We have questions and no answers.” He looked over at Ironsides. “Go.”
        The major stood up and went over to the main display screen. He tapped on the thin keypad besides the flat monitor. A blurry image of a ship of some sort appeared on the screen.
        “One of our attackers,” Ironsides explained, as he gestured at the image. “They were moving at high velocity and struck with pinpoint accuracy. Within seconds, our lead escort was out of action, and a few seconds later, our other two escorts apparently were unable to provide cover.”
        “Why didn’t we detect them earlier?” Garak asked. Though the Cardassian wasn’t quite a member of the command staff, Johnson thought the tailor-slash-secret agent might have insights to offer.
        Ironsides pressed a key on the pad, and sensor logs replaced the blurry image. “Apparently they had cloaking devices of some sort. I reviewed the sensor logs and detected activity that closely matches readings detected from standard cloaking devices.”
        “Then the attackers were Romulans,” Fonda said, matter of factly.
        “Note that I said, apparently they had cloaking devices of some sort. The readings don’t match any known readings of Romulan cloaking devices nor Klingon cloaking devices, nor Federation cloaking devices.”
        “Mind if I take a closer look at those sensor readings?” Fonda leaned forward in her seat.
        “That’s your job,” Johnson said, sliding a PADD down across the table top. “Figure out what you can from the readings. More importantly, figure out a way to detect them before they’re right down our throats. Joh, I’d like you to work with the chief on this.”
        “Of course,” Joh nodded. She looked over at Fonda’s PADD.
        “You don’t expect more attacks?” Favor shook his head.
        “Whoever they were, they didn’t accomplish much,” Johnson shook his head. “They barely caused damage, and they didn’t take anything from us. I have a hunch they’ll be back. And this time, I don’t intend to be caught with my pants down again.”
        Ironsides moved back to his seat and sat down. Garak looked at the commander. “Do you mind if I get a copy of the visual logs? I think I might be able to take it down to Astrometrics and have the image enhanced.”
        “Good idea, Garak,” Johnson nodded, turning to face the Cardassian. “Ironsides, give him what you have.”
        “Aye, sir,” the major nodded.
        “What about the Romulans?” Hartman asked. “You told me to expect possible casualties from them, but none appeared.”
        “Nobody got hurt on the Warbirds. It seems we were the sole target of this...” Johnson frowned, shaking his head, trying to understand the situation. He settled on a word. “...hit and run.”
        “I see,” Hartman nodded.
        “Well, that’s it, people. Find out who they were and get ready for them to come back,” Johnson said. He looked outside the thin windows of the conference room, at the stationary stars. “Until then, we proceed on our journey to Romulus.”
        He stood up, “Dismissed.”
        The others stood up and headed back to their stations. Ironsides and Garak paired up, striking up an dialogue as they left the room. Johnson called out to Hartman and Raven. He went over to Raven first. “How’re you doing?”
        “I am fine,” the tall man replied. “The headache faded quickly away.”
        “Good,” Johnson nodded. “Well, be alert.”
        “I always try to be,” Raven smiled. The brown garbed man left the conference lounge, leaving Hartman and Johnson behind.
        “What is it?” Hartman said, as he sat in his chair.
        Johnson leaned back against the table, looking down at the doctor. “How is Ensign LeAnn?”
        “Uh, she’ll be allright in a few hours,” Hartman nodded.
        “What’s wrong with her?” Johnson asked. “Why couldn’t you tell me earlier?”
        “Well actually, I felt that it wasn’t really necessary to tell you, and it’s also quite embarrassing.”
        “Really?” Johnson raised an curious eyebrow.
        Hartman shrugged. “She’s in sickbay, passed out drunk on a biobed.”
        “What?” Johnson roared, standing up away from the table.
        Hartman leaned back, blinking in surprise at the ferocity of Johnson’s reaction. “Uh...”
        “In a combat situation, one of my best pilots is drunk?!” Johnson glared at Hartman. “Of all the irresponsible...” He clenched his fists and walked away from Hartman.
        The doctor stood up, shaking his head at Johnson’s fuming. The captain whirled around and jabbed a finger at Hartman. “You tell Ensign LeAnn when she wakes up that she’ll be getting a reprimand on her record. She’ll be lucky if I don’t cite her for incompetence!”
        “But...she was off duty at the time. We had no idea we’d be under fire,” Hartman held out his hands. “Just because someone drinks-”
        “No excuse!” Johnson shot back.
        “Hey! There are no regulations barring officers from drinking while off duty!” Hartman shouted. “You don’t have the right to tell someone not to drink!”
        “Are you arguing with me?” Johnson whirled around, deathly silent.
        Hartman sighed sharply, composing himself. “Calm down, Tommy. Are you allright?”
        “I’m fine!”
        “Right, you are. You’ve been ‘fine’ for the last two weeks. Which coincidentally is when we crossed over into Romulan space...”
        The door to the room opened, and Kyle walked in. “What!” Johnson turned his head at the newcomer.
        Kyle took a step back, not expecting a shout. “Uh, Ambassador Selenta wishes to speak with you. She’s waiting in your ready room.”
        Johnson turned to glare at Hartman, then walked out of the room, walking briskly past Kyle, barely giving her time to move out of his path. She looked at Hartman with a questioning glance.
        All Hartman could do is shrug. He sighed and shook his head, and left the room, heading for the turbolift. Kyle sighed and headed back down to the center of the bridge. She sat in the command seat and looked at the warp streaked stars on the viewscreen.

SECTION ONE | SECTION TWO | SECTION THREE | SECTION FOUR

 MISSIONS | PERSONNEL | SHIP SPECS | COMMENTS | CREDITS | MAIN