“Where are the Romulans?” Will asked, looking around the empty room.

As if cued by the captain’s words, a quartet of hard-faced, uniformed uhlans appeared, each soldier entering the chamber from a different cardinal direction. The disruptor pistols in their hands told everyone that they didn’t share Keru’s reticence about openly brandishing weaponry.

“You will accompany us directly to the Senate Chamber,” said one of the uhlans before turning on his heel and leading the way into and through a branching corridor.

Moments later, the group was standing beneath a gigantic silver sculpture fashioned in the shape of a hawklike avian that loomed over the curved tiers of desks and chairs where the late Romulan Senate had done its deliberations for centuries. Surrounded by blue pillars and abstract, rust-colored wall hangings, the room’s expansive stone floor was dominated by a circular mosaic of smooth marble, half blue and half green, and inlaid with lines and circlets of gold. A wavy ribbon of turquoise bisected the mosaic, at once separating and joining the two halves together. Golden icons faced one another across the length of the divide, arrayed like chess pieces.

On the green side, far off-center and larger than every other element on the mosaic, was the stylized image of a star and two nearby planets.

To Troi, the symbolism was both obvious and shocking…and perhaps indicative of a disturbing cultural mindset. Here, at the very heart of their power, was the Romulan worldview: an image not of the Empire entire, with Romulus at its center, but rather, a symbol of enmity, of its centuries-old antagonism with its old foe, the Federation.

And it dominated the very floor of the Senate Chamber.

Is this how they see themselves?Troi wondered. Always on the verge of war with us? Or does the central placement of the Neutral Zone speak more to a feeling of confinement? A reminder of thwarted ambition? What does this say about a civilization, that it defines itself by its relationship to its longtime adversary?

Troi looked up from the star map, forcing herself once again to focus on the immediate—and on the two high-ranking Romulans who now strode to the room’s center, stopping at the precise spot from which Romulan senators had delivered their orations for more than two centuries. She noted that the dull gray floor was spotless, showing no evidence of the potent thalaron radiation that she knew Shinzon had used to obliterate all life within this august chamber.

“Welcome to Ki Baratan,” said Praetor Tal’Aura with a beneficent smile that incompletely concealed a world-weary mixture of ambition and caution. Her dark gray raiment was simple and unprepossessing, not unlike that of a junior member of the Senate. “I thank you all for coming.”

Troi returned the smile as best she could, managing to do so only by sheer force of will. And thank you so much for the enthusiastic welcoming committee.

“We’re happy to assist you in any way we can, Madam Praetor,” Will said, sounding utterly self-assured as he introduced the away team, beginning with the admiral and ending with Keru. The captain’s carefully managed feelings of apprehension spiked momentarily when he exchanged bows with Proconsul Tomalak, the tall, wide-shouldered man who stood at the praetor’s side.

“You have already gone a long way toward demonstrating the truth of your words, Captain,” Tal’Aura said. “The medical supplies and industrial replicators your convoy ships have delivered will relieve untold suffering among my people. I thank you on behalf of the entire Romulan Star Empire.”

Though the praetor’s outward expression had not changed, Troi noticed an emotional turbulence roiling beneath her words. It is costing this woman a great deal to be forced to accept our help,she thought. And she knows as well as we do that she can’t really do or say anything “on behalf of the entire Romulan Star Empire.” At least not unless and until things get a lot better for ordinary Romulans, and soon.

A door on the east side of the room slowly opened, interrupting Troi’s reverie. She watched as three other Romulan civilians and a pair of high-ranking military officers entered the room, accompanied by yet another small contingent of armed, stern-visaged uhlans. Troi noticed immediately that former Senator Pardek was not among this group, and she exchanged a silent yet significant glance with Will, who had clearly made the same observation.

“Allow me to introduce the other participants in this conference,” Tomalak said, gesturing toward the newly arrived Romulans, all of whom were already taking seats around what was clearly a newly installed conference table set a few meters back from the circular room’s center.

As Tomalak completed the introductions, Troi quietly surveyed the other negotiating parties, “reading” their emotional states even as she studied their uniformly guarded facial expressions. She and Will were already acquainted with the tall, dark-haired female military officer, Commander Donatra.

When Donatra’s warbird had vanished from the Titanconvoy’s Romulan escort squadron, Troi couldn’t help but wonder what the commander had been up to. Had she kept the warbird Valdorecloaked nearby, to keep watch over the convoy? Or had she left the area on some urgent errand? Because Jaza’s new sensor net had failed to detect the slightest trace of Donatra’s cloaked vessel, Troi had made the latter assumption, as had Will. Though she still sensed, unsurprisingly enough, that the commander was hiding something significant, Troi hoped that Donatra could be counted on as an ally, someone who would help keep this meeting from becoming overly contentious.

At Donatra’s side sat Commander Suran, an older man whose hair was the color of duranium deck plating. Both he and Donatra wore medal-bedecked dress uniforms that included medium-length ceremonial swords that Troi immediately recognized as Honor Blades; though both Suran and Donatra displayed some degree of apprehension at being in the presence of both the praetor and a contingent of former adversaries from the Federation, they bore themselves with a quiet pride and dignity that matched their exterior martial decorations quite well.

But Donatra’s every glance at Tal’Aura was freighted with a hatred so pure and terrible that Troi experienced it almost as physical pain. Troi could sense that Suran harbored a strong antipathy toward the new praetor as well.

The third member of the newly arrived party took up a position on the other side of the wide sherawood table. And though soft-spoken, the man whom Tomalak had introduced as a former senator named Durjik radiated anger the way a fast-spinning neutron star gave off X-rays.

“So,” Durjik said without waiting for Tal’Aura’s formal leave to begin speaking. He paused to stare appraisingly around the table at each member of Titan’s away team, who had taken their seats moments after the Romulans had. Then he allowed his contemptuous gaze to settle on Akaar. “We meet the enemy face to face at last.”

Will spared a quick glance at Troi. She nodded almost imperceptibly, thereby telling him that Durjik wasn’t speaking hyperbolically; as a member of Pardek’s “attack-the-Federation-preemptively” faction, he seemed utterly sincere in his fear and hatred of the Federation.

And why isn’t Pardek himself here?

Her attention suddenly drawn to the smoldering anger whose fires Akaar was keeping prudently banked, Troi began watching the admiral closely.

“When I look at you, Senator,” Akaar said slowly and deliberately, “I do not see an enemy.”

“Then you are a liar or a fool, human. Which is it?” Deanna felt haughtiness, with a sprinkling of surprise.

The admiral allowed a small smile to emerge. “I am no more human than you are.”