Ch’Nayla’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and his antennae twitched. “Are you certain that will be a prudent use of our resources, Admiral? Sending two Constitution-class starships and a frigate escort on a mission that far from Vanguard is a major commitment. It will be at least six months before they are able to return to the station.”

“I know. But look how much Starfleet has increased its presence in this sector in the past few months. I think we might be in a position to flex our muscles a bit.” He stepped closer to the star map and permitted himself a small but devilish smile of anticipation. “The Klingons seem to get a kick out of running our colonists off their planets. Let’s see how theylike running for a change.”

22

June 4, 2267

After more than two months cooped up inside the Skylla,adrift in deep space, Pennington was certain he had read and re-read every word printed on every surface and scrap of paper aboard the ship. He’d nosed through every document in the ship’s databanks. Listened to every audio file. Watched every vid.

He had tried filling the hours, days, and weeks with his own writing, but his thoughts felt unfocused. The harder he tried to shape his recent experiences into a narrative, the greater his mental paralysis became. Words refused to come.

Sitting alone in the cockpit, gazing out at the stars, he let himself drift into an almost hypnotic trance. Enveloped in blissful silence, he let his mind go quiet. What had started out weeks earlier as excruciating boredom had evolved into something new and unexpected: serenity.

The noise and chaos of his old life fell away. He let go of the need to fill every moment with ordered thoughts, pointless conversation, or entertaining distraction. Finally graced with a surfeit of time, he discovered the simple pleasure of merely letting himself be…

An alert flashed on the cockpit’s main console, and its repetitive buzzing sound dragged him back into the bleak reality of the moment.

He turned and shouted down the main corridor, “T’Prynn! One of your gizmos is harshing my mellow!”

A door slid open, and he heard T’Prynn’s soft footfalls. As she entered the cockpit and edged past Pennington to take her seat, he noticed she smelled freshly showered, and that she was wearing her hair down.

She silenced the alert and activated the sensor console. After studying the readout for a few seconds, she removed a small transceiver from the console and placed it in her left ear. Listening intently, she turned to Pennington and said, “We have located the Omari-Ekon.”

“Ganz’s ship?” His pulse quickened. “Is it close?”

“Very,” T’Prynn said. “However, it is moving away from us. We will need to adjust course to pursue it.”

T’Prynn accessed the helm controls and started keying in commands. A low purr from the aft section accompanied a subtle vibration in the deck as the engines engaged. Outside the cockpit, the stars seemed to spiral and slip away as T’Prynn changed the Skylla’s heading.

Pennington found himself imagining worst-case scenarios. “If we go and start following Ganz’s ship, don’t you think he might notice? And maybe take offense?”

“We will maintain a moderate distance from his vessel,” T’Prynn said. “Thanks to the improvements you and I have made to this ship, we might be able to shadow the Omari-Ekonwithout coming within range of its sensors.”

“Do you think that’s likely? That they might not see us?”

“No, I do not. Orion vessels often are better equipped than Federation civilian starships. We must expect their sensors are at least as accurate as our own and act accordingly.” She entered more commands into the helm. “I have programmed the autopilot to maintain a constant bearing and range from Ganz’s ship. After I adjust our warp signature to match that of the OmariEkon,we should appear to its sensors as a subspace echo.”

“Will that really work?”

“As I lack powers of precognition, I cannot answer your question with absolute certainty. However, I believe this tactic has a greater chance of concealing our presence than would doing nothing.”

Pennington smiled at her. “Which is a lot of fancy words for, ‘I’m not a fortune teller, but it’s worth a try.’ You also could have just said, ‘I don’t know.’ ”

“I could have, but I did not.” Though her face betrayed no hint of emotion, Pennington was certain he had detected an undercurrent of sarcasm in her voice. She ignored his probing stare and turned her chair to work at a different console. “Now that we have a lock on the vessel’s position, our next priority will be to access its internal and external communications.”

“Intercepting external communications ought to be a snap,” Pennington said. “At least, for someone like you, I mean. But how do you plan on listening to their internal comms?”

Engrossed in her work, she answered without turning around. “I will attempt to remotely activate and enable a number of taps that were covertly installed aboard the Omari-Ekonduring my tenure as Vanguard’s liaison to Starfleet Intelligence.”

Leaning forward to make sure he’d heard her correctly, he asked, “Did you say taps? As in electronic eavesdropping?”

“Correct,” T’Prynn said. “Once I bring them online, I should be able to access a number of linked and isolated databanks aboard that ship, as well as monitor its real-time internal transmissions.”

Pennington slowly dragged his palm across his stubbled face and ruminated on that new bit of information. “Aren’t all Orion vessels legally recognized as foreign soil by the Federation?”

“Yes, they are.” The screen in front of her filled with a cascade of raw information. Schematics, strings of alien text, static images, and vid-clips flashed by. “The taps are still in place and fully functional. All checksums are valid, indicating they have not been tampered with.”

After a moment of grappling with his conflicting emotions, Pennington asked, “Isn’t what you’re doing illegal? Or against diplomacy or something? What if you started a war?”

“It is highly unlikely my act of private espionage would constitute an act of war,” T’Prynn replied. “Even if the Orion government wished to take such an exaggerated level of umbrage at my violation of the privacy of one of their ships, its forces would not pose a significant military threat.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s the benchmark by which we should—”

“In any event, it is irrelevant unless the commander of the Omari-Ekonwishes to publicly admit its security was breached. Based on my previous observations of Neera, I would speculate she is far too pragmatic to risk diminishing her public image by admitting to such a failure on her ship.”

Now thoroughly confused, Pennington said, “Hang on. I thought the Omari-Ekonwas Ganz’s ship. Who’s Neera?”

“She pretends to be Ganz’s harem madam and personal mistress. In fact, like many Orion women who wield influence through powerful men, she lets Ganz serve as the public face of her criminal organization while she rules from the shadows.”

Pennington nodded. “I suppose you learned that by using these taps?”

“Yes,” T’Prynn said.

“Did any of the information you obtained ever lead to an arrest or a conviction of any of Ganz’s men?”

She partially turned her head in his direction. “No.”

“Why not?”

“As you have duly noted, our placement of the taps was a violation of sovereign Orion territory. Because they were illegally installed, none of the intelligence they provided could ever be legally admissible in a Federation court of law or Starfleet court-martial.”

He waved a hand at the screen full of data and snapped, “If you knew none of this could be used for prosecutions, then what the hell was it for?”