His speculation pushed S’anra back into an agitated state. “Such as?”

“Who’s to say? But given what I know of your praetor and the Klingons’ Chancellor Sturka, I find the notion of them sharing common ground less than plausible.”

As Jetanien had hoped, his verbal feint enticed S’anra to smugness. “Sturka is not the only member of the High Council.”

He leaned forward, as if to share a confidence. “Of course not, but he and Gorkon hold most of the others in line. Now, if you can get to Gorkon—well, that would be a very different scenario. But it’s not likely your people could offer him anything better than what Sturka has already promised him and his House.”

Mimicking his body language, S’anra shifted forward and lowered her voice. “And what, exactly, do you think Sturka’s promised to Gorkon?”

“The Empire. Gorkon seems likely to succeed Sturka as chancellor.”

S’anra’s eyes shone with a conspiratorial gleam. “I wouldn’t be so certain.”

“I didn’t say I was certain, my dear, only that I thought it likely. Pray tell, who do you predict will be the next to sit upon the throne of Kahless?”

She sat back and waggled a finger at him. “That would be telling.”

“So it would. And I’d hate for you to incur the wrath of someone like Duras.”

Jetanien paid careful attention to S’anra’s lack of a reaction. Her face was a blank slate—perfect for playing poker but ill-suited to brazen mendacity or fervent denial. Had she pretended to confusion or surprise, he might have had a harder time gauging whether his educated guess had struck the mark. Instead, she had made such an effort to bury her surprise that she had simply frozen. She may as well have indicted Duras herself, he gloated silently behind his leathery physiognomy. All that remained now was to play out the conversation according to its unwritten rules before retiring to his residence and passing the news along to Lugok.

“In any event,” the Chelon said, “even with your help, Duras is a long shot at best. And considering the wealth and influence his House already wields, he can’t have been an easy mark for your people to exploit. Still, I can’t fault your—what do you call them? ah, yes, the Tal Shiar—for their forward thinking in this matter. Though I doubt the Federation has anything worth trading for someone of his stature, perhaps we should look into buying a few lesser figures on the Klingon High Council. No doubt the return on investment would be quite stellar.”

The Romulan leaned back in her chair and sulked while staring at her empty glass. “There are no words equal to the depth of my contempt for you right now.”

“No doubt a passing phase.” He picked up the bottle of Romulan ale from the table, reached over, and refilled her glass. “Have another drink, and I’m sure you’ll find the words you seek soon enough.”

10

The intercom buzzed at precisely 0830, exactly the time Admiral Nogura had specified. He noted the detail with approval. There were many qualities he admired in other people, but punctuality was one upon which he placed particular importance; he did not like to be kept waiting. He thumbed open the channel to his yeoman. “Yes?”

Lieutenant Greenfield answered, “Captain Kirk is here for his debriefing, Admiral.”

“Send him in.” The door swished open and Kirk strode in carrying a data slate. Nogura stood and stepped around his desk to greet the younger, taller man. “Good morning, Captain.”

They shook hands. “Good morning, sir.”

Nogura gestured to the chairs in front of the desk as he returned to his own. “Have a seat.” They sat facing each other. “Can my yeoman bring you anything? Coffee, perhaps?”

“No, thank you.”

“All business, eh? I see your reputation is well earned.” The admiral reclined his chair a few degrees. “Half of Starfleet is buzzing about you these days, you know.”

Kirk responded with a disarmingly modest smile. “I can’t imagine why.”

“I’ve followed your career since you took over the center seat on the Enterprise,” Nogura confessed. “Three years ago, I was one of those who doubted you could ever emerge from the shadow of the great Christopher Pike. Now I hear officers talk as if you’re some kind of modern-day Magellan, and dropping Pike’s name makes the new cadets ask, ‘Who?’”

The captain rolled his eyes, as if to deflect the praise. “I can’t control what others say—but whatever praise they think I’ve earned probably belongs to my crew.”

“No doubt there’s some truth to that,” Nogura said. “A commanding officer has to have good people in order to be effective. But a real leader inspires good people to greatness—and the Enterprise crew has excelled under your command, Kirk. Take pride in that.”

The commendation seemed to bring out a tendency for self-effacement in Kirk, who mustered an embarrassed smile. “I do, sir. Every day.”

“Good. Just don’t do anything stupid—like get yourself promoted to the admiralty. Large bureaucracies tend to reward their best people with desk jobs where they can’t be of any use to anyone, and in your case, I can’t imagine a greater waste of talent.”

That drew a small chuckle from Kirk. “I’ll try to remember that.” He leaned forward and handed the data slate across the desk to Nogura. “Our logs, hand-delivered as ordered, sir.”

Nogura activated the slate and perused the long index of entries. “Your log for stardate 5693.2 indicates you found the Defiant trapped in—I’m sorry, what is interphase?”

“A rip in space-time, like a torn membrane between two universes,” Kirk said. “The space between the universes is like . . .” He paused to conjure the right word. “Well, it’s a kind of limbo, I guess. My first officer could explain it better.”

Even a cursory skimming of the accounts by Kirk and Commander Spock made it clear to Nogura just how harrowing the Enterprise’s attempt to rescue the Defiant had been. “Your first officer’s log says he and the rest of the crew thought you had died when the Defiant slipped out of phase and vanished.”

Kirk’s mood turned somber. “If not for my crew, I would be dead.”

Nogura respected the toll that mission had taken on Kirk. “Well, we’re all glad you’re still with us. It’s unfortunate you weren’t able to recover the Defiant, but from what I see here, you and your crew went above and beyond in your attempt.” He lowered the data slate. “Let me ask you, Captain: Do you or your senior officers think the Tholians had anything to do with creating the spatial interphase that snared the Defiant?”

“No. None of their weapons seemed to function in any way that would account for the phenomenon. Commander Spock speculated the interphase might have been a natural occurrence, but now that it’s dissipated, there’s no way to be sure what caused it.”

“Very well.” With regret, he closed the file on the search for the Defiant, resigned to accepting its loss in the line of duty as another of Starfleet’s everyday tragedies.

After what seemed like a moment’s hesitation, Kirk asked, “Sir, can you tell me what happened after my crew and I finished our first-contact mission with the Melkots?”

“They admitted they’re curious about us, but they’ve chosen to remain in seclusion.”

“Damn. Powers like theirs might’ve been useful against the Shedai.”

“Technically, Captain, you—”

“I guess we could have asked the Metrons for help, but I get the impression they won’t think we’re worth talking to for another millennium or so. If Trelane wasn’t so damned impetuous, I’d almost be tempted to—”

“Captain.” Nogura spoke the word with such force that it silenced Kirk in mid-sentence. “I appreciate your input, but you need to refrain from discussing the Shedai—or any other aspect of our mission here.”