Chapter Thirteen

U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC 1701E Romulan Space Sector 87

 

“auxiliarypower. Reinforce those starboard shields. Status of the brig?” Picard grappled with the slice

of inner bulkhead that had collapsed in his way. Just how the Romulan warbird had been able to catch up

so quickly, he wasn’t sure. But again, he wondered if all of this was some Romulan ruse.

 

“Damage to that deck and the two surrounding decks, sir. No hull breaches, but internal structural

collapse in some areas.”

 

The captain grunted as he moved a large ceiling plate from his path. “I can see that, Number One. Where

is the warbird now?”

 

“They fell behind again, but we’re leaking a trail of coolant that won’t dissipate soon.”

 

“Understood. Picard out” Suddenly the debris was much lighter in Picard’s hands, and he turned to find

Spock helping heft it out of the way. “Ambassador.”

 

“Spock will suffice, Captain.”

 

“I appreciate the help, Spock, but—”

 

“Neither of us should logically be here, Captain. Most certainly we should let damage control crews

clear the debris between here and your brig. With your permission, I will not wait.”

 

“Are you saying you’re doing something illogical?”

 

“Impractical, perhaps.”

 

“The practical isn’t the logical?”

 

“Ofttimes not.”

 

Picard couldn’t help but smile as Spock lifted the last large part of the ceiling that had been blocking

the corridor. Here was this man, this Starfleet legend, this Vulcan statesman, clearing rubbish from a

collapsing ceiling, debating philosophy, and not even breaking a sweat.

 

“It might be practical,” Spock continued as he and Picard stepped over the downed wire and insulation

dust that littered the hallway, “to let those who are qualified clear the corridor. But I can think of

nothing more logical than assuming T’sart is uninjured and working against his harried guards, and

therefore we should attend at once.”

 

The captain could not help but agree. T’sart was suddenly very important. If he, in fact, knew what the

dead zones were and why … Picard’s only problem was that

 

T’sart had shown Spock only limited proof. Enough proof that Spock believed the Romulan, but not enough

to answer all questions. Picard wanted to see that data, and more. And if T’sart was dead, perhaps the

data would be lost with him.

 

What an odd position Picard had found himself in … hoping a mass murderer was alive and well.

 

One last corner turned, and the brig expanded before them. Twelve largecells, each protected by

transporter resistant materials and battery-backed-up force field doors. T’sart’s was still intact, his

guards unconscious under a collapsed support beam that had fallen. The beam now leaned onto the doorway,

its end being held up by the sizzling electro-field that locked T’sart into his cell.

 

“A few more days and that would drain the field completely,” Picard muttered.

 

“I should protest formally,” T’sart said as the captain and Spock approached. “Surely you have better

accommodations for guests than a collapsing brig.”

 

“For guests, yes.” Picard checked one of the panels outside the shielded archway that opened into

T’sart’s cell. He turned to Spock. “Radiation leaks. We have to evacuate this whole section.”

 

Spock nodded and pulled the two guards free while Picard upholstered his phaser and aimed the weapon

toward T’sart. “Stand back.” He lowered the field door and the support beam clattered loudly to the

deck.

 

“I’m no threat to you, Captain,” T’sart said, smiling.

 

A smile on a face so Vulcan was jarring, Picard thought, and he glanced a moment at Spock. Had he

 

eversmiled? Surely, when he was under his Romulan guise he must have.But, ever else?

 

“You’re so much of a threat,” Picard said finally, “that you’ve had to promise to quell a larger threat

to assure yourself safe passage. Rest assured,I won’t hesitate to stun you with little provocation.”

 

T’sart stepped lightly over the debris on the floor and out of his cell. “Yes,” he said dryly. “That is

both a restful and assuring thought”

 

“What is your current heading, Captain?”

 

Silence followed T’sart’s question. The Enterprise officers seated around the briefing table looked to

Picard to see what his answer would be. He made none. He simply ignored the Romulan.

 

“Status, Number One?”

 

“He seems pretty demanding for a prisoner.” Riker said.

 

“Ship’s status.”

 

Riker nodded to Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge, who tapped at the computer in front of him. A graphic of

the damaged sections appeared on the viewscreen. “Minor structural damage. Brig area still has radiation

leaks. We’re working on cleaning it up, but it will take some time. We’ve secured some quarters for

our… guest here, and made sure they’re safe.”

 

“Exhilarating, that my previously sworn enemies have my well-being so high among their priorities.”

 

Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge swiveled around. “We’ve made it safe from you, not for you.”

 

“This ship,” Picard said, turning toward T’sart, “is in this condition only because we have you aboard.

And you’re only aboard because Ambassador Spock has verified that you, in fact, have data on the cause

of these dead zones.”

 

“Dead zones,” T’sart said. “Interesting term for it. More accurate than you might think.”

 

“I want to know what you’ve proven to Spock,” Picard continued, “and more. You’re to work with

Lieutenant Commander Data—”

 

“Don’t presume to give me orders, Picard.” There wasan anger in T’sart’s voice that surprised Picard a

bit. He was sure not to let that surprise show in his expression, but one could see just how much of a

facade T’sart’s pleasantries were.

 

“You’re on my ship, T’sart,” Picard said. “My orders, my rules.You’re here for a reason. Several

reasons, in fact, I’m sure. For now, we’ll deal with the one you’ll admit to.”

 

T’sart smiled. “Captain, you wound me with such a belligerent attitude.” He was obviously quick to

regain his composure. “Should you continue to be so, you’ll wound yourself… and every living thing in

this galaxy.”

 

Picard pulled in a deep breath and released it slowly, not quite sighing. “Ambassador?”

 

T’sart turned toward Spock, who sat at Picard’s right. Past Spock were Data and Deanna Troi. Both also

turned and listened intently as the Vulcan began to speak.

 

“What the Federation is calling ‘dead zones,” the Romulans have dubbed ‘power deserts.” Increasingly,

 

MAXIMUM WARP: BOOK ONE

 

thereare many names for this new phenomenon. Reports from all over the Alpha Quadrant demonstrate just

how widespread this problem is. Three Romulan colonies have needed to be evacuated on a massive scale.

Captain Picard has informed me that seven much smaller Federation colonies have suffered the same need.

Reports from almost every sector in the Federation confirmed that these zones, where higher energy

technology has null output, have spread. Contact has been lost with Starbase 244, Starbase 15, and Deep

Space Nine, just to name a few. All have gone silent; it is assumed all are victims of this phenomenon.”

 

“And you know what’s causing this?” Riker asked T’sart.

 

The Romulan was silent for a moment, and Picard wondered if he was merely lost in thought, or was

choosing his words so that whatever he said would benefit him the most. “Is it actually my turn to

comment? I was wondering when you’d finally ask the one person who knows more than anyone on this

topic.”

 

“Just tell us what you know,” Picard ordered.

 

T’sart’s brows drew up, and then his face took on a harshness that surprised even the captain. “You want

to hear it all, Captain?” The rank was voiced as an insult. “Brace yourself, and when I’m finished, act

quickly, or we’re all soon dead.”

 

The room was uncomfortable, silent, as T’sart focused all attention on himself.

 

“I know from where the phenomenon emanates. I

 

knowhow we can get there, and I know what we must do to stop it.”

 

“Can we only stop it? What about reversing it? Can’t we make these ‘dead zones’ come back to life?”

Deanna asked.

 

T’sart smiled his condescending smile. “Young child, how easy is it to come back from the dead?”

 

“Difficult,” Spock said. “But not impossible.”

 

An odd silence followed, all eyes on Spock, as if he had more to say. He did not. He merely raised a

brow at Picard.

 

“Where is the proof of what you say? Why didn’t you bring it with you?” Picard asked.

 

“Some things are not even possible for me, Picard. Secreting a Romulan warbird’s memory banks in my

pocket… someone would have asked why I was on board and why I was using the computer so extensively. I

showed Spock some of the data from a Romulan computer console. Had we lingered long enough even to copy

much of what we viewed, we would both be dead now. You wouldn’t have wanted that, would you?”

 

Picard hated this man’s smile. It was a smile that had radiated over how many deaths? A million? More?

To see it here and not be able to wipe it off this murderer’sface … And he was a murderer, wanted by

any number of governments, including the Federation. Every Starfleet captain had standing orders to

arrest T’sart should they find him within their grasp. Well, here T’sart was. Picard should just return

to Starbase 10 with Spock and

 

turnT’sart over to starbase security. That was what the regulations would tell him.

 

Normally he would contact Starfleet, explain the situation, make his own suggestions, and await orders.

Nothing was normal now. There was no Starfleet Command. At least not unless the Enterprise traveled to

it herself.

 

This decision washis, and his alone. How he could trust someone like T’sart was the real question. And

the answer was,he couldn’t. But he could trust Spock. Spock had seen some preliminary data that had

convinced him.

 

“Spock, can you use the Enterprise computers to recreate the information you saw?”

 

“It should be possible to relate what I saw, but those were conclusions, and brief scraps of supporting

data. Not enough to initiate our own research.”

 

“It’s more than we have now. Please work with Commander Data.”

 

Spock nodded.

 

“No need,” T’sart said, and pulled a thin Romulan data crystal from his tunic pocket.

 

“I thought you said you had no data.”

 

“I said I couldn’t get all of it. I did manage to save my personal files.”

 

Frowning, the captain tapped a button on a small computer console in the table. “Computer, please give

computer access to Spock, former Vulcan Ambassador, retired. Starfleet officer, retired.”

 

“Acknowledged. Access confirmed: Spock. Rank: Captain. Temporary Starfleet activation necessary.”

 

A slight chuckle rose in the back of Picard’s throat.

 

“Welcome back to Starfleet, Captain Spock. At least temporarily.”

 

Spock nodded his acceptance, but said nothing else.

 

“Well,” T’sart said, his lips pressed into a thin line. “If you’re finished with your pomp and

flourish… You’re sitting here as if I haven’t just told you life is ending as you know it. It is. Life

in all ways may be ending. Do you understand this?”

 

“I understand,” Picard said. “We have a problem of galactic—”

 

“The galaxy?” T’sart scoffed. “Nothing so mundane. I suspect this problem will soon be universal.”

 

“As in the entire universe?” Riker said, dubious.

 

T’sart looked at him. “How many people did you have to bribe to attain such a high rank?”

 

“That’s enough,” Picard barked.

 

“Oh, I think not,” T’sart snapped back. “You fail to grasp the gravity of this situation. We don’t even

have time for the lecture I seem to have to give. Do you understand what these dead zones mean? We’re

not just talking about the end of subspace communications, the lack of which has already destabilized

the most powerful governments in this quadrant. We’re not just going to see the end of interstellar

exploration. We’re on the verge of every space-faring civilization collapsing completely. How many of

your colonies will grow cold without their power plants? How many will starve on your Terran homeworld

when the replicators don’t work? How many will die in your hospitals because it is high technology that

cures your disease and deformity?”

 

Factories, transportation, communication, air purification and creation, heat… and light. All

technology at risk.Picard’s mind boggled at the idea.

 

“The lucky ones will die quickly, Captain, of suffocation or hypothermia. The unlucky ones, on your

homeworld and mine, will fall into the barbarism and warfare that comes when billions must share the

tiny resources that can sustain only a few. And it will happen soon, Picard. Not in months or weeks, but

in days, or even hours.”

 

Picard glanced quickly at Spock. The Vulcan gave a slight, grave, affirming nod. His message was clear-what T’sart was saying was chillingly accurate.

 

“I understand, T’sart,” Picard said.

 

“I hope you do,” the Romulan said. “Because it won’t just be the Federation or the Empire that will

suffer. We’re not the only power-addicted civilizations. Everyone, everywhere, who has a technology

greater than post-industrialization will fall and then stagnate. Trillions upon trillions of lives will

be lost, because the number of people a warp-faring race can sustain is too great for any lesser

science.”

 

“And your solution is?”

 

“Stop it, at the source.” T’sart said. “The Caltiskan system.”

 

Picard swiveled his chair toward Spock.

 

The Vulcan thought for only a semi-second. “That’s most of the way across Romulan space, Captain.”

 

Picard nodded. “Near the Klingon/Romulan border.” He shook his head. “You want us to take the Enterprise

right through the center of the Romulan Empire, coming within ten parsecs of the Romulan homeworld?”

 

“No, you want to. You don’t want to waste time, either. Because the longer you wait, the greater the

chance we won’t be able to get there at all. And if we don’t, Picard…” T’sart motioned with his hand,

including the entire ship in one slow, sweeping gesture. “All this will be nothing more than floating

debris, cold and dead in space. There will be no more starships, and perhaps with enough time, no more

stars.”

 

“Even if I believe you,” Picard said, “we can’t just traverse the most densely populated part of the

Romulan Empire.”

 

“You can. With my help.” T’sart picked up a data padd, tapped into it for a few moments and then slid

the padd down the table toward Picard.”The subspace frequency of our cloaked ships. With this, you will

know where every cloaked vessel in range of your scanners is located. You’ll be able to destroy them,

before they destroy you. And that’s just what you’ll have to do. And when you get to the Caltiskan

system, you’re going to have to surprise and overpower, or out-think,the Tal Shiar forces that even the

proper Romulan government is unaware are there.”

 

Picard snapped up the padd and glanced at the code. “You’d do this to your own people? Give us the power

to see through their cloaks? Ask us to destroy them?”

 

T’sart smiled again. “The resonance frequency is changed every three days. If we accomplish our goal,

there will actually be a fourth day and we can celebrate. If we don’t, and either die trying or simply

die in a dead zone… it will mean little to any of us.” He

 

noddedat the padd. “This code was changed yesterday. You have two days, Captain. Two days, and you’ll be

blind again. Sooner, if they learn we have the code, so we must use it wisely.”

 

“We?”

 

“Of course, Captain. You can’t have this party without me. I’ve told you where to go, not what to do

when you get there. Puts a little more importance on my health than you otherwise might, don’t you

think?

 

“Oh, your health is paramount in my thoughts,” Picard said, tapping his comm badge. “Helm, plot a course

for Klingon space. Radioahead, let them know we’re coming.”

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

For the first time, T’sart’s expression was one touched with what looked like just a bit of fear. It

could have been anger, but Picard preferred to see it as panic. “Klingon space? You know the price on my

head there. Those barbaric fools would destroy a planet to have me in their grasp. Why do you think I’ve

given you the cloak code? You must go through Romulan space.”

 

“Right now, I’d say the price on your head is about the same in Romulan space as it is in Klingon

space,” Picard said, allowing himself the slightest smile at T’sart’s expense. “But the Enterprise can

travel freely among the Klingons. And so long as they don’t know we have you, you’re safe.”

 

T’sart pursed his lips again. “Fine, Picard. Gamble with my life. But by doing so, you gamble with your

own, and that of the galaxy’s. We don’t have time for deteys.”

 

“I’ll take that risk, T’sart. I told you,” Picard handed the padd to Riker, “I am in command.”

 

Romulan Warbird Makluan Romulan Space Sector 83

 

“I am in command,” Folan said. “And I want priority on warp drive and cloaking systems.”

 

“We should try to alert the fleet,” Medric said. “We cannot do this alone.”

 

“We’re the only ones who can do this,” Folan cried. “We still have them in scanner range. They’ll be in

the Neutral Zone soon and, once in Federation space, out of our grasp entirely.”

 

Medric sighed. Folan sensed he was trying to obey her, but he thought so differently, and respected her

so little. That wasn’t her fault, however. But it was her burden to bear. Every moment she felt she

needed to do something to bolster her standing in command. Is this how it is for J’emery, and all

commanders, or only those who had been scientists?

 

“SubCommander,” a centurion called. “Enterprise is changing course.”

 

Folan pivoted toward the crewman and leaped up toward his station.”Away from the Neutral Zone?”

 

“No, SubCommander, but away from Federation space. They are on a course that will take them into

Klingon space.”

 

“Klingon space?” Folan’s eyes narrowed in perplexity then she turned to Medric, determined. “I need warp

capability repaired now. We must be able to match their speed. Then I need thecloak, and communications

as well.”

 

Medric smiled. “You will call the fleet?” Folan nodded slowly. “I will call for help,” she said, almost

in a whisper. “And T’sart… andPicard, will die.”

 

Romulan Space Sector 72 Shuttle Bay awakening sequence complete at time code 4547.

 

Systems check: Internal scanners, nominal. External scanners, nominal.Active and passive sensor grids,

nominal. Tractor systems, energized. Force-field generators, energized. Ordnance subsystems, activated.

 

Verify directive: Undermine and inhibit subject’s infrastructure.

 

Verify sub-directives: Avoid contact with biological forms. Avoid contact with sensor detection. Avoid

disabling environments and events.

 

Scan for location … Interior of shuttle.

 

Plotting course for exploration outside shuttle. Plotted.Antigravity propulsion initiated and engaged on

heading toward shuttle’s port bulkhead.

 

Scanning obstacle bulkhead: plastiform constructs, various metallic alloys, circuitry. Point of weakness

determined. Calculating … initiating disrupter burst. Vaporization complete.

 

Evacuation complete at time code 4549.

 

Scanning shuttlebay … point of weakness determined

 

Verify position … acquiring … Deck 12, section 9, subsection 2, internal Jefferies tube 5. Within

range of conduit 31 A. Error: subject shielding interferes with attempt to reprogram. Formulating

solution… Determination: physical manipulation necessary. Charging tractor nodes and force-field

generators.

 

Charge complete. Initiating manipulation.

 

Alert triggered, bio form approaching. Disengage. Shutting down systems. Maneuvering against bulkhead

for silent mode.

 

Postponing action until bio form exceeds scanner range… Sleep state established.

 

Self-waking initiated. All bio forms outside of set range. Resume previous directive… Klingan/Romulan

border Sector S3

 

Three days ago

 

“WHAT IS IT, SPOCK?”

 

Picard leaned over the Vulcan’s shoulder and looked intently at the science station computer monitor.

 

“Something Mr. Data and I have found of interest.” Spock swiveled his chair away from the console, and

Picard stepped back as Data did the same. “In the small amount of information that T’sart was able to

smuggle from his research, and by remembering what I was allowed to see of T’sart’s ‘proof,” there is

perhaps evidence that these dead zone occurrences are

 

butone stage in a continuous phenomenon. I had glanced at a table of statistics on the current Romulan

dead zones. More recent appearances of these zones have allowed tractor beams and even disrupter weapons

to function. As these zones … age, for lack of a better term, even those lower-level power usages

become inactive.”

 

“Lower level?” Picard asked.

 

“In comparison to the warp and impulse power generations, sir,” Data replied.

 

The captain nodded. “How … far might this degenerate? Will chemical thrusters become useless? Atomic

reactions? Need we replicate candles,Mr. Spock, in case we happen upon an older dead zone?”

 

Spock shook his head. “There is no way, given our limited data, to answer those questions. We will need

to study an older zone, perhaps testing it from within.”

 

“Let’s hope we don’t get that chance. I don’t intend to replicate those candles.”

 

“They’d do you little good, Captain,” Spock said. “Unless you intended to replicate matches as well.”

 

Picard smiled, and noticed a slight twinkle in the Vulcan’s eye. “See what we can do about reconfiguring

a probe that will work in these older zones, should we come close to one. If we can learn how to scan

for them, map them…”

 

“Aye, sir,” Data said.

 

Spock nodded and Picard stepped down toward the lower bridge.

 

Once both Data and Spock had turned back toward

 

thescience station, the android leaned toward Spock and spoke in a slightly hushed tone.

 

“You suggested the captain replicate matches,” Data said.

 

“Yes.”

 

“That was a joke, was it not?”

 

Spock paused in his work a moment, turning to look at Data. “Without anything to light the candles, of

what use would they be?”

 

“Hmm.” Data considered that. “Indeed. I suppose it was not a joke.Or at least not a tunny one. I can

often tell now. Remember, since we first met, I have gained emotions.”

 

Spock turned back to the console. “I remember. I hope not on my account.”

 

“No, sir.” Data also turned back to the console, but then a slight smile pulled his lips up and he

glanced back. “That was a joke, was it not, sir?”

 

One brow raised in amusement, Spock was silent.

 

Romulan Warbird Makluan Romulan/Klingon border Sector 53

 

“Did the message get through?” Folan thought her vocal intensity sounded perhaps too nervous, despite

her attempt at a demanding tone.

 

Medric turned tiredly from his console. “We have no way to know. Normally such a high-speed warp buoy

would be destroyed entering enemy space. We

 

shouldnot have used our last one on such a task, in any case.”

 

“I disagree. If this was our last chance for long-range communication, they are closer than our own

forces.” Folan stepped down to the command chair. Her command chair now. “Perhaps we could modify a warp

probe?”So much to think about, so many possibilities. Command was new to her. And she had enemies to

her command: T’sart, and Picard. And Medric.

 

“Subspace communication focusing coils can’t be replicated, and we have no such inventory in storage,”

the centurion said, his tone suggesting she should have known that. “That, along with subspace travel

being erratic at best the last two weeks …”

 

“Well, it was a calculated risk,” Folan explained. That was another mistake, and she knew it the moment

she’d heard it clatter to the floor. Medric had suddenly followed her down to the command deck.

 

“Had we used the buoy to send a message to the fleet—” he began.

 

She tried to shut him down quickly. “We would not have accomplished our ends.” Folan turned away toward

the main viewscreen.

 

“Your ends,” Medric said, turning her chair harshly back toward him.

 

Folan was stunned for a moment,then reminded herself she needed to play the military game of

authoritarian bravado and bluster. She tried to narrow her eyes and stare him down. “This is my command

now, Medric. My ends are your ends, our ends.”

 

As he always was when she showed her backbone,

 

Medric was silent. But his courage returned more quickly each time he confronted Folan, and this time he

paused but a moment. “There is a difference between being in command, and commanding respect. We have

seventy-four comrades dead, and twice that injured. We have no communications with Command. One

disruptor bank is offline and will take seven more hours to repair. We are leaking plasma from our

starboard nacelle, rendering our cloak useless. We’re limping. Just what is it you believe you command?”

 

Folan leaned toward him and whispered. “Be careful, Medric. A sharp tongue can swing so fast it slits

its master’s throat.”

 

He considered that a moment, then stood straight, almost —but not quite—at attention. “At this time,

I’m only making… a recommendation. There is an imperial subspace relay station just fourteen hours

from here at present speed. Once within its range, perhaps it will boost our signal enough to notify

Command and await orders. We might even be able to borrow a replacement—”

 

She shook her head. “We haven’t the time. T’sart is almost in Klingon space. And reports before we left

were that the subspace radio relays were having the same problems as all vessels and bases. No … we

will assume our message was received and that our new allies will act properly.”

 

“A large and foolish assumption,” Medric said as he turned away. “SubCommander,” he added finally.

 

“Mine to make.” Folan pivoted back toward the main viewer again.

 

“For now,” Medric whispered, probably only loud

 

enoughfor her to hear, but it was a scream into her mind. For now.

 

U.5.S. Enterprise, NCC 1701E Klingon/Romulan border Sector ID

 

Picard and Riker walked briskly toward the turbolift, and more importantly, away from T’sart’s quarters.

That the Romulan was in quarters rather than the brig nagged at Picard, chafing his sensibilities.

 

“Someone with his personal death count, dictating to us,” the captain grumbled.

 

“He’s used to everyone jumping through his hoops,” Riker said.

 

“Or he kills them and pushes them through.” The captain shook his head. “Well, this ship is not at his

service. And we know that few of our goals will be the same. He wants to use us, and we need to use

him.”

 

“Assuming he’s not been lying from the start. He could have shown Spock false data. Could be feeding us

the same.” They passed a few crew members going the other direction, and Riker lowered his voice.

“Perhaps the dead zones are T’sart’s own invention. Mass murderers aren’t known for their

trustworthiness.”

 

“And trust is the problem,” Picard said. “Which puts us in an interesting position. We’re looking to

traverse Romulan space without permission, to attack a Romulan outpost. We are, essentially, taking the

necessary steps to start another interstellar war.”

 

*

 

“We do have Spock’s belief that what T’sart said is true.”

 

“Which is a great deal.” Picard and Riker slipped into a turbolift. “Bridge,” the captain ordered,then

turned back to Riker. “I hope it’s enough. Obviously we’re not at all assuming our ignoble guest doesn’t

have some …trick up his sleeve, as it were.”

 

“So many tricks up there I’d be surprised if he has room for his elbows.”

 

Picard didn’t allow himself the chuckle Riker’d been looking for. “I’ve discussed this with Spock, and

now I’ll discuss it with you.” He stopped and Riker did as well.

 

“Sir?”

 

“We can’t know what T’sart has planned, but it is something. I’m sure he doesn’t intend to stay under

our control. But he must. He cannot be allowed to escape.”

 

Riker nodded slowly. “Aye, sir.”

 

“Will…” The captain rarely called his first officer by his given name. When he did, it was usually

more serious than light. “I mean he can’t be allowed to escape. At any cost.”

 

They were silent a moment, and Riker understood. “Aye, sir. Any cost.”

 

Picard nodded once. “There’s a reason I gave that order to Spock as well, Number One. I need you to help

secure our passage through Romulan space. I have no intention of doing as T’sart suggests and killing

any Romulan ship we’d come across while their shields are down.”

 

“What did you have in mind?”

 

“Well, Mr. Riker,” Picard said as the lift doors opened and they stepped out onto the bridge, “you’re

 

goingto take a runabout and buy us some insurance. Mr. Spock knows of a Romulan unmanned subspace relay

station. The Romulans keep supplies there, not unguarded, but completely automated. One of those

supplies, an element they use in their plasma conduits, could be added to our nacelle exhaust. Romulan

sensors might mistake that as a Romulan warp signature.”

 

“Might and could. Are we sure of anything?” Riker asked.

 

Picard smiled lightly. “We know where the relay station itself is.”

 

“Comforting. I’ve never even heard of this sort of element.”

 

“Barantium. It’s a secret use. One we’ve been saving for a rainy day.”

 

“And it’s monsoon season.”

 

“Indeed. We’ll head into Klingonspace, and rendezvous back here in fourteen hours.”

 

Will Riker pulled in a deep breath and pushed it out slowly. “Well, I hope I have a few tricks up my

sleeve.”

 

The captain nodded. “You do. Mr. Data and Counselor Troi, both of whom have some experience with Romulan

computer systems, will accompany you. You’ll use the codes T’sart has provided us, to scan cloaked

ships. Unless you stumble across a dead zone yourself, you should at least get there.”

 

Riker looked toward Data at the science station, and down to Deanna Troi on the lower bridge. “And if

those codes to show us the cloaked ships are false?”

 

Picard pressed his lips into a thin line. “Keep your

 

headsdown.” Then, more somberly, the captain took his first officer’s shoulder in one hand and gripped

him tightly. “This is important, Will. I don’t trust T’sart, and I don’t trust his assurances. We need

this barantium if we’re to make it all the way through Romulan space.”

 

“Then you’ll have it, sir,” Riker said, and gave an assuring nod. “You have my word.”

 

Picard smiled weakly. “And I’ll hold you to it.”