In theory.

The trick, of course, was that although it was well known that molecular cybernetics didn’t stop at the nanite level, creating femtobots able to withstand the stress of the shield matrix andhard enough to pierce the nanobots was uncharted territory. The Defiantsimply didn’t possess the structural materials Nog and his engineers would need to make the plan work. Their computer simulations, run using variations of readily available materials, had all failed. Either the femtobots disintegrated in proximity to the shields, or the ship sustained critical damage due to delayed or partial deployment. The femtobots required something more resilient than Defiant’s replicators or her engineers could fabricate.

Even though a significant challenge awaited Nog, Vaughn hadn’t been too worried. Nog’s resourcefulness and innovative abilities never ceased to amaze him. Vaughn had instead assumed his biggest problem would be his hosts’hastily conceived notion that Dax should facilitate some mediation process between warring Yrythny factions.

Prime Directive and first contact issues aside—and his concerns regarding those protocols weren’t exactly minor—Vaughn had reservations about letting Dax get mixed up in the Yrythny’s internal politics. Despite her zeal and seriousness about her transfer to command—and the fact that her past-life experiences gave her unique advantages as his XO—nothing in the lieutenant’s Starfleet background or his own interactions with her shouted that she ought to have her responsibilities broadened to include diplomacy. Granted, her counselor training lent her legitimate, professional expertise in the area of xenopsychology, but Vaughn still remembered Curzon Dax’s questionable judgment during the Betreka affair, and the choices that had nearly gotten them both killed. Ezri wasn’t Curzon, of course—not exactly—and while she was a quick study, Vaughn wasn’t about to turn over the fate of a world poised on the brink of civil war to her, no matter what gods appeared to have ordained it.

Sprinting up the stairs that led to Defiant’s docking bay, Vaughn saw the problem immediately. Just as Nog had reported, a squadron of armed, uniformed Yrythny soldiers blocked the ship’s airlock. Nog was huddled with several engineers some distance away. The chief engineer’s face relaxed visibly when he saw his CO; Vaughn hoped the situation hadn’t worsened since he left his quarters.

“Report, Lieutenant.”

Nog launched into his story at once. “I arrived at 0600 to resume command of the repair team, accompanied, as you can see by Ensign Senkowski, Ensign Leishman, and Ensign Gordimer.”

At mention of their names, auburn-haired Senkowski, smiley Leishman and stocky Gordimer in succession, straightened up and nodded a polite acknowledgment to their commander.

Nog continued, “We discovered the troops you see here blocking the airlock; they denied us access to the Defiant.Lieutenant McCallum, Ensign Merimark, Ensign Permenter, and Crewman M’Nok are still aboard. I’ve already contacted them and they haven’t been threatened, or had their work interfered with. They didn’t even know they were trapped inside until I told them.”

“What do these guards have to say?”

“Nothing, sir, except that they’re acting under orders to secure the ship.”

There must be a point to this. Even implied threats aren’t arbitrary.“Have you contacted the Yrythny authorities?” If Vaughn were to guess, he’d assume that one of their friendly dinner companions was responsible for their armed visitors.

“Sir, we’ve tried to raise our concerns with the Yrythny government, but our inquiries have been rerouted, ignored or gone unacknowledged,” Nog said.

I just bet they have,Vaughn thought. They want us to stew in our worry a little longer. Makes us more pliable, more readily agreeable to their demands when they finally get around to making them.

“And for that, I apologize, Lieutenant Nog,” Assembly Chair Rashoh’s rumbling voice came from behind them. “I had hoped to contact you myself, Commander, before your engineers arrived for duty this morning, but obviously my good intentions came to naught.”

So you’ve decided we’ve waited long enough, or you’ve grown impatient. Which one is it?“As you say Assembly Chair,” Vaughn said placidly, turning to face Rashoh and his party. None of their identities surprised him, just the failure to bring their token Lower Assembly member, Keren, along as a spectator. Accompanying the Assembly Chair were Vice Chair Jeshoh and another Yrythny official Vaughn didn’t recall meeting. He considered them cautiously, wondering what ill tidings they brought. “Imagine my concern at discovering my crew had been denied access to ourship.” Let the games begin…

“Yourship, certainly,” the Assembly Chair said with a toothy smile, his never-blinking eyes glinting like obsidian. “As your lieutenant has no doubt reported to you, we haven’t violated your sovereignty and boarded your vessel. Rather, we have some concerns that we wanted to discuss.”

“Concerns?” Vaughn raised an eyebrow. What trumped-up excuses have you spent the night dreaming up?He offered Rashoh a warm smile of his own.

“The radiation contamination inside is immense. We require assurance that our own people won’t be impacted,” the Assembly Chair said soberly.

Vaughn smiled tightly at Rashoh. “Mister Nog?”

Taking his cue, Nog opened his tricorder and panned it in the direction of the airlock. After a moment he turned back to Vaughn and held up the results of his scan.

To Rashoh, Vaughn said, “I encourage you to verify these findings with your own instruments, but according to this, you and your people have nothing to fear.”

A pointy-faced Yrythny wearing billowing muted green pants and a gaudy macramé headpiece stepped forward with outturned feet, bowed, and said in a hesitant voice, “I am Science Minister M’Yeoh. Let me come to the point, Commander.”

“By all means,” Vaughn said pleasantly.

Threading his lengthy, bony fingers together and flexing his fingers rhythmically—as one might tap one’s toes—Minister M’Yeoh waddled closer to Vaughn. “As I see it, you have three options,” he said. “Clearly, your ship can’t fly or sustain life for long. Should”—he gulped—“you decide that it’s irreparable you might wish to trade your ship for one of ours. Or you might decide that our world suits you as a place to rest temporarily. Perhaps contact your own people in the Alpha Quadrant and wait for them to come and bring you home.”

“Or they can repair the Defiantusing our resources—personnel, raw materials and so forth,” Jeshoh interjected. “As we promisedour guests yesterday.”

At least Jeshoh’s not pretending to go along with this charade.“Vice Chair Jeshoh offers the only option I’m willing to take,” Vaughn said, waiting for the word he felt certain would follow.

“But that’s our problem, Commander.”

There it is,Vaughn thought ruefully. The “but.”Would that someday sentient nature surprised him even a little, but it often seemed as if all species—all thinking beings—functioned on similar paradigms, even this far from home.

Assembly Chair Rashoh clucked, jiggling the pockets of skin hanging off his jaw. “We want to be generous with you, but the reports from your chief technologist indicate that your ship will require extensive—and expensive—resources. Much of what you need we obtain from foreign trade, and as we’ve already explained, our conflict with the Cheka has limited our supply runs. How can we possibly give you what you need without risking shortages to our own vessels?” Assembly Chair Rashoh’s sad expression lingered on Vaughn for a long moment, allowing his words to hang in the air.

“I understand completely,” Vaughn said. “Would you consider a trade?”