“An unfortunate coincidence,” Harriman maintained. “But after all, Starfleet’s primary purpose is exploration, and we are always moving to advance our abilities to carry out such endeavors.”

“You’ll forgive me, Captain,” Kamemor said, “if I point out the heavy armaments carried by so many of Starfleet’s vessels.”

“I said exploration was Starfleet’s primarypurpose,” Harriman said, “not its only one. I don’t deny the defensive imperative of Starfleet. But I am telling you that hyperwarp was not developed as a weapon or a defense, but strictly as a tool of discovery.”

“I am trying to decide, John,” Kamemor said, “whether you are attempting to convince me of this, or whether you are attempting to convince yourself.”

“Ambassador,” Harriman said, his tone beseeching.

“Captain,” Kamemor said. “I know that you’re not naïve. And I don’t need to dispute your personal intentions for hyperwarp drive—or even the intentions of Starfleet itself. But are there not admirals within Starfleet Command who would employ any technology, any means, to defeat my people? Are there not those admirals who likely viewed the development of hyperwarp drive as an opportunity to end this cold war we’ve been waging, and not by declaring peace?” Kamemor paused, hoping to allow her words to penetrate past Harriman’s stated opinion. “If I recall the content of my intelligence briefings, is not your father an admiral with a reputation as a so-called hawk?”

“I cannot deny the existence of such admirals,” Harriman said, “although they are well in the minority. But neither can you deny the presence in the Romulan Imperial Fleet of such individuals.”

“Of course not,” Kamemor said. “And in the Senate as well.”

“But I am not my father,” Harriman said, “and you are not a warmongering diplomat.”

“No,” Kamemor said, “but if the hyperwarp data you have provided do not corroborate Starfleet’s claims, there will be no stopping the Romulan hawks.”

“Gell,” Harriman said, employing her given name for the first time. He leaned forward and set his drink down on the low table between them. “There will be no stopping them anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Kamemor wanted to know.

“I mean that I have information to give you,” Harriman said. “For one thing, believe me when I tell you that the data provided today will verify the Federation claims: hyperwarp drive is not a weapon, nor can it reasonably be utilized as one. And as far as first-strike capabilities are concerned, the Romulans and Klingons now have as much data about the new drive as Starfleet; there will be no unbalancing of power.”

“I am gratified to hear that,” Kamemor said.

“But none of that will matter,” Harriman went on. “Not to one man.”

“One man?” Kamemor asked, although she already suspected the identity Harriman would reveal.

“Aventeer Vokar,” the captain said, confirming Kamemor’s suspicions.

“But if the data you provided prove the Federation claims,” Kamemor said, “then the admiral will be able to do nothing.”

“Nothing sane,” Harriman said. “But he has a plan, Gell. And when data fail to provide him with the excuse he needs to attack the Federation, he will do so anyway.”

“What?” Kamemor asked, her voice rising in surprise. She stood up, unable to remain seated. Slowly, Harriman stood as well, facing her across the sitting area.

“Vokar is going to commit an act of terrorism,” he said. “He is going to attack a facility across the Neutral Zone in order to lure the Federation into a war. He knows that if we are attacked without provocation, we will be unable to refrain from launching an immediate counterstrike.”

“But that is madness,” Kamemor said, appalled at the picture Harriman had painted for her. “If the Federation is attacked, the Klingons will side with them in any subsequent conflict, and such a combined force would be able to overcome the Empire.”

“You believe that,” Harriman said, “and I believe it. But does Vokar? Or does his zealous nationalism blind him to reality? Does he trust so much in the natural ascendancy of the Romulans that he believes their defeat impossible under any circumstances?”

Kamemor looked away from Harriman, her mind working over what she had just been told. She knew the admiral, both by reputation and through her own dealings with him, and she recognized Harriman’s characterization of Vokar as accurate. She had recently seen the beginnings of such attitudes in one of her own subconsuls, Vreenak, and she had vowed to herself to counsel the young diplomat in other directions.

Kamemor sat back down on the sofa, then looked back up at Captain Harriman. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked him.

Harriman returned to his seat as well, his eyes never leaving hers. “Because I need your help,” he said.

“To do what?” she said, although the answer seemed clear.

“To stop Vokar,” Harriman said. “To prevent a war that, no matter who ultimately wins, will see unprecedented numbers of casualties on all sides.”

Kamemor thought again of Vreenak, and of her other subconsul, N’Mest, but she knew that she would never be able to tell anybody of this meeting with Harriman. “How can I trust you?” Kamemor asked, searching his face for an answer she knew she would not find there.

“That’s a question only you can answer,” Harriman said. “Despite living on opposite sides of the Neutral Zone, we’ve known each other for a long time now. I’ve never lied to you, and I’m not lying now. Like you, all I want is peace.”

Kamemor nodded her head, not in agreement, but in simple, absent movement. She found herself believing the Starfleet captain, both because of her long relationship with him, and because of the narrow-minded, xenophobic, almost fanatical mindset she had always known Vokar to manifest. And in those terms, the decision came easily to her.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

Minus Three: Shadows

A bead of perspiration trickled from Harriman’s hairline down to his brow. The air in the Jefferies tube felt still and close, like a windless day in a humid clime. The times he’d spent on Pacifica with Amina rose in his mind, but he immediately dismissed those thoughts; this was no vacation. He wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing the sweat across his already-slick skin.

Lying on his left side, Harriman lifted a handheld device up before his face. He examined the simple readout—one indicator for status, another for range—and verified the accurate operation of the fist-sized apparatus. After reattaching it to the belt of his uniform jacket, he reached for another piece of equipment he had carried here. He picked up the heavy rectangle of metal from the decking and studied its curved surface, about half a dozen times the size of his open hand. A control module and a small display jutted out from its other side. A normal component of impulse-drive systems, the deuterium-flow regulator controlled the introduction of hydrogen isotope fuel into the fusion reactors.

This particular regulator, Harriman knew, was defective.

Though not visible to the unaided eye, a microscopic fracture zigzagged across its face. Additionally, a dropped parity bit in its firmware would prevent self-detection of the flaw. When engaged, the regulator would fail to correctly control the stream of deuterium entering the impulse reactor. Temperatures would rise rapidly in the core, releasing radiation and threatening an explosion. Unchecked, the runaway fuel flow would result in disaster.