Ganz scowled. “There are a multitude of ways in which useful knowledge can be extracted from him.”

“Again, too risky,” Neera countered. “Though, don’t think I haven’t considered it. I’ve even had a few of my best companions try to ply him with their various wares, all to no avail. He’s stubborn, even for a human. I never would have thought I’d meet the Earth man who could resist Trianna.”

His eyebrow rising in genuine curiosity, Ganz asked, “Trianna? That is impressive.” He had sampled for himself the many talents harbored by the enthusiastic young woman, though of course he had never confessed as much to Neera. That Reyes was able to withstand what must have been nothing less than an allout assault of seduction on Trianna’s part spoke very highly of the former Starfleet officer’s self-discipline.

Or, it doesn’t say much about yours.

“Well,” Ganz said, “I had something else in mind. Less subtle actions.”

“Nogura won’t do anything about Reyes that violates Federation law,” Neera replied as she headed back to the sofa, “at least, not so long as Reyes remains healthy.” Resuming her place on the plush cushions, she paused to drink from her goblet before returning her attention to Ganz. “However, I have no doubts—and neither should you—that the good admiral will tear this ship apart if he hears even the slightest hint of Reyes being mistreated at our hands.”

Once more, Ganz was forced to acknowledge his lover’s wisdom. The Federation’s various laws and regulations pertaining to the recognition of the sovereign territory of another government were as explicit as they were simple. The sanctity of an independent nation-state was inviolable, with very few exceptions, but one of the key exclusions from those directives was in the case of assault or the unlawful detention of Federation citizens. In the event of such an occurrence, appropriate action to retrieve such persons could be ordered, but only by someone in the highest echelons of the Federation. Ganz did not doubt that Heihachiro Nogura, operating as he was far from the hallowed halls of the Federation Council, had been entrusted with a great deal of autonomous decision-making powers. The admiral would waste no time utilizing them to retrieve Reyes, should Ganz or anyone else aboard the Omari-Ekon be so stupid as to provide just cause. For the moment, Diego Reyes would have to be treated as that which he appeared to be: a fugitive from Federation justice who had been granted asylum.

“It galls me to think of the power he holds,” Ganz said, shaking his head, “even in his position as a virtual prisoner aboard my ship.”

Neera once again regarded him with a sly, knowing smile. “Whose ship?” Rather than answer the teasing question, Ganz crossed to the bar and poured himself a drink. “The point remains. For someone who’s supposed to be helpless, Diego Reyes seems to be doing quite well for himself.”

“You can’t take it so personally,” Neera replied. “It’s just business, Ganz. Remember that. Reyes is a pawn, and at some point when the game reaches a turning point, he will be sacrificed.”

“Fine,” Ganz said, mindful to keep his tone from sounding too much like a challenge to Neera, to her person or her authority, “but promise me that will happen the very microsecond he ceases to provide any value.”

The soft touch of Neera’s hand on his shoulder was enough by itself to chase some of the pent-up frustration from his body. “When the time comes,” she said, her fingers caressing the bare skin of his arm, “you will have free reign to do with him as you please, though I can’t promise I won’t want to exact my own manner of recompense before I let you have him.”

“Sometimes,” Ganz said, “I think you say such things merely to agitate me.”

Neera’s hand traced its way around his arm and across his broad, muscled chest. “Of course. It keeps you interested, and motivated.”

Turning to face her, Ganz smiled as he took in her mischievous expression. She said nothing more, but what her eyes communicated was unmistakable. He felt a familiar, welcome stirring and moved to take her in his arms, but stopped when Neera placed her hand against his chest.

“First things first, my dear,” she said, her voice recovering some of its forthright tone. “Tell your people about Reyes. For now, we need him. They’re not to confront him without permission. Start with Lekkar, once Tonzak brings that fool to you.”

Ganz considered her directives. “Sooner or later, somebody else is going to see an opening and make a move. They won’t all make the same mistakes Lekkar did.”

“Then use him as an example to the others,” Neera replied. “Leave no doubts as to what will happen if any harm should come to Reyes.”

Before he could say anything else, the office’s door chime sounded, a quartet of musical notes followed by the click of the intercom system installed in the bulkhead outside Ganz’s private chamber.

“Ganz,” said a deep male voice, “this is Tonzak. As you requested, I’ve brought Lekkar.”

Looking once more to Neera, Ganz stood silent as she offered one final, resolute nod. “No doubts.”

There could be no disagreeing with her, Ganz decided, even if that was what he desired. Her logic, though brutal, was indisputable. Despite his personal feelings for the human, Diego Reyes offered more value so long as he was alive. For now, the unlikely, uneasy alliance in which they all were locked would have to continue.

It was just business.

4

“Ow.”

Thomas Blair winced as he looked up at the gymnasium ceiling, his unobstructed view courtesy of the vantage point he currently enjoyed while lying on his back atop the exercise mats covering the floor. From this angle, Blair was able to discern that one of the overhead lighting fixtures was slightly dimmer than its companions.

“Captain, are you all right?” asked a deep voice, before a dark silhouette entered his field of vision and blocked his view. Dressed in red exercise attire, Commander Kamau Mbugua regarded Blair with an expression showing equal parts concern and amusement.

Nodding, Blair replied, “Yeah, I’m fine. Nice throw.” Why he had decided that today was a good day to accept his first officer’s invitation to practice some hand-to-hand drills was a question he would have to ponder at some point. Mbugua’s unarmed combat skills—which included mastery of at least half a dozen different styles of martial arts—were unmatched aboard the Defiant, and while Blair had not aspired to defeat his second-in-command, he had figured he might last longer than five seconds once the friendly sparring match got under way.

Nope.

“Sorry about that, Skipper,” Mbugua said, holding out his large right hand in a gesture of assistance. “That was more instinct than anything else.”

Blair waved away the apology. “My fault, Kamau. That’s what I get for trying a straight-on attack right off the bat.” He thought he might catch the commander off guard by launching an immediate strike right at the start of the match, but Mbugua had seen and reacted to his captain’s movements almost before Blair started moving. His defense was ready even as Blair committed to the tactic, and by the time the captain realized his mistake, he was already being flipped over Mbugua’s hip on his way down to the mat.

Seeing the first officer’s hand, Blair shook his head. “I’m okay. I think I’m just going to lie here a minute, and collect my thoughts.”

“Did somebody call a doctor?” a female voice called out. Mbugua’s response was to release a hearty laugh that echoed off the gymnasium walls as Blair raised his head from the mat to see Jane Hamilton, the Defiant’s chief medical officer, standing at the room’s entrance. Arms crossed, she was leaning against the door frame and eyeing him with no small amount of glee. Rather than a standard duty uniform, the doctor was dressed in gray sweatpants and matching shirt, across the front of which was emblazoned the Defiant insignia. Her shoulder-length red hair was dark with perspiration, and there were damp spots on her shirt.