“I’m fine, sir,” she lied. “Fine” was actually quite a long way from how she felt right now, and there had been a moment out there in the black aboard the Kaskawhen Nechayev had thought she would never feel anything again.

Jekko’s courier, its systems finally overwhelmed by the enormous power drain placed on them by the vintage cloaking device, had finally given out. The cascade shutdown had wrecked everything, fusing the systems and terminating life support. Nechayev and Jones climbed into the decrepit emergency environmental suits in the ship’s locker and waited for the ice to start forming. Jones slipped into unconsciousness first, as the cold, hard stars wheeled around them. Nechayv tried to stay awake, clutching her phaser in numb fingers, but she followed the other woman into blackness as hypothermia reached in and took hold.

The Gettysburghad found them soon after, as Commander T’Vel had told her, homing in on Nechayev’s encrypted recovery beacon. The Kaskawas in the starship’s shuttlebay, a few decks below them, being picked over by the engineering crew. Nechayev felt a flicker of guilt; the little vessel had killed itself saving their lives, and it deserved a more noble fate.

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to sickbay?” said Jameson. “We can resume this at a later time.”

Sickbay.She’d woken up on the biobed gasping for air and panicking, dreaming of snakes. Jones was still down there, sleeping off her recovery. “No, sir,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “Captain, with all due respect, this can’t wait for a later time. We have to act now.”

Jameson and T’Vel exchanged glances. As an operative for Starfleet Intelligence, Nechayev was used to the idea that there would be information that she was not privy to. The concept of “need to know” was integral to being a good operative. As such, she’d learned to recognize when her superiors were holding something back. Nechayev glanced around the room; as well as the captain and his executive officer, she was flanked by Gold and Gettysburg’s chief of security, an Andorian female named sh’Sena. She hadn’t had the opportunity to get to know them beyond the most cursory of conversations; in her experience, starship crews tended to be tight-knit groups who didn’t exactly resentthe presence of an intelligence operative on temporary assignment to their vessel, but they didn’t welcome it either. Of them all, sh’Sena was the only one Nechayev had spent any time with, mostly during the mission preparations before she and Jones had been inserted on Draygo. The Andorian’s mood read wrongly to Nechayev’s trained eye. Something has happened. While we were undercover, something happened.

She turned back to Jameson. “What’s changed, sir?”

The captain folded his arms. “Tell me your mission objective, Lieutenant.”

“Covert assessment of the political situation on Bajor.” She reeled it off automatically. “Primary mission goal: make contact with a local asset in the employ of Bajoran exile Keeve Falor, evaluate all available intelligence, and exfiltrate.” She sighed, ignoring for a moment that the planned silent departure from Bajor had mutated into a headlong race with Cardassian guns chasing them all the way.

“And what was the purpose of that mission?”

“We were sent in there to answer a question.” Her tone stiffened. “Is the Cardassian Union going to forcibly annex the planet Bajor?” She jerked her thumb at the still image of the tank. “Well, sir? You tell me.”

“I’d say the answer is clear,” Jameson replied. “And the next question becomes, what are we going to do about it?”

Nechayev read the reply in his eyes and she went cold. “Nothing.”

The captain nodded. “That’s right. Starfleet wants us to stand back and maintain a safe distance. We’re to observe and conduct signals intelligence for the moment, but no more.”

Nechayev blinked and leaned forward. “Sir, I’m not sure if you understand the gravity of the situation. I was down there, I felt the mood of the people. They’re on a knife edge.” She shook her head. “Captain, a man died so I could bring this information out safely! He gave up his life without hesitation because he thought we were going to help his world.” The agent tapped the tabletop. “We have a window of opportunity here. Bajor is one step away from governmental collapse, and the Cardassians are giving them a push! We can stop that, but we have to move on it right away!”

“Without a direct mandate from the Federation Council, we’re not going back in,” Jameson said flatly.

Nechayev was the veteran of a dozen clandestine missions. She was highly trained, one of the best field agents in the division. She understood that dispassion was an important factor in maintaining the clinical distance required to be a covert operative. And yet, as she sat and listened to the Gettysburg’s commander cut off the last hope for Bajor, something inside her snapped. “I can’t accept that,” she retorted. “Those people are in clear and present danger. We can’t just walk away!” The outburst surprised everyone, Nechayev included. It’s Gwen; all her wide-eyed naïveté has rubbed off on me.

“But we will,” said T’Vel, “because we must.” The Vulcan glanced at Jameson, seeking permission, and he nodded. She continued. “Starfleet Intelligence has discovered that the Cardassian Union is operating a concealed listening post withinFederation space, from a moon in the Delavi system. To use your term, Lieutenant Nechayev, that outpost represents a clear and present danger to the hundreds of Starfleet vessels and colonies that operate within its detection range.”

“Command is drawing up an assault plan as we speak,” added sh’Sena. “Once in place, we’ll take the outpost and neutralize it.”

“But in the meantime we have to keep our hands free of the Bajor Sector,” said Jameson. “The Cardassians know we’re sniffing around. If they think we’re coming into the area in force, they’ll go dark. You know how they work; the Delavi outpost will be abandoned and they’ll set up somewhere else, somewhere we don’tknow about.”

“Starfleet will lose the opportunity for the intelligence coup of the decade,” said the Andorian. “Delavi is the key-stone for the Union’s surveillance operations in the Federation.”

Nechayev nodded slowly. “So we let Bajor get swamped by Cardassia so we don’t tip our hand, is that it?”

“Bajor isn’t a part of the Federation,” noted Gold. “I don’t think anyone here believes it’s a good situation, but we have to fight our own battles. Nobody in the Bajoran government has asked for our help. As much as I hate to say it, this is a matter of internal alien politics.”

“David’s right,” said Jameson. “Delavi is a threat to Federation stability, here and now. Bajor…” He sighed. “Bajor is a problem for another day. We’re spread too thin out here to do otherwise.”

“Captain—” began Nechayev.

Jameson shot her a look. “The matter is closed, Lieutenant. For better or worse, the Bajorans are on their own.”

“This way,” said Darrah, leading Syjin down the ornate corridors of the Naghai Keep. “Don’t lag behind.”

“I’m coming, don’t panic,” said the pilot. “I’m just admiring the sights, you know? People like me don’t usually get invited into the ancestral home of the Minister for Korto District.”

They reached the heavy nyawood door to the great library and Darrah shouldered it open. “Just don’t steal anything.” He strode inside, and Syjin followed him in.

The pilot tilted his head back to take in the multiple levels of the chamber. “Ooh. Look at that.” He clicked his teeth appreciatively. “All those books. I didn’t think there were that many in the world.”

Darrah beckoned him toward a console set in a six-sided stone table in the center of the chamber. “Stop acting like a tourist and get over here. It’s not like you’re a big reader anyway.”