She smiled enigmatically. “If you’re as smart and resourceful as your after-action reports paint you, then I’m sure you’ll work it out on your own soon enough.”

Vaughn wasn’t surprised that the Cardassians had accessed his files. She was in the intelligence business, after all, just as he was.

“You forgot lucky,” he said. “Sometimes luck is an operative’s most important asset.”

“Really. With superstitions like that, it’s remarkable that you’ve made it to such an advanced age.”

“Ouch,” he said, returning her smile. “But my ‘advanced age’ tends to prove my point.”

Omiturin and Vaughn came to a stop outside an isolated holding cell at the end of a sterile, limestone-walled corridor. She typed a brief command sequence into the wall keypad, and the forcefield dropped in response. She entered the cell, prompting Vaughn to follow. On the floor in the far corner sat a slightly built elderly Cardassian man attired in a simple maroon prison coverall. Vaughn recognized him immediately.

Cren Veruda.

The cyberneticist looked up at them with rheumy eyes. “Is it time for another interview already?” His voice sounded like an older, defeated version of the A.I. that had taunted Vaughn shortly before his capture.

“No more interrogations today, Doctor,” Omiturin said.

Vaughn crouched beside the stick-thin scientist and gently helped him to his feet. “Easy, Doctor. I’m a Starfleet officer, and I’m getting you out of here.”

Veruda seemed to become more fully alert. “Ah. The Federation man. You came for me after all. When the Order discovered my plan to defect, I’d given up hope.”

“Hope’s the easy part,” Vaughn said, turning his gaze to Nemeti. “What’s hard is escaping undetected from a high-security Cardassian scientific research facility. Any thoughts on that, Ms. Omiturin?”

“I’ve got the security A.I. in diagnostic mode, and it’ll stay that way for another ninety-eight minutes. We have that long to reach the defense perimeter. Can your Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn beam us out from there?”

Vaughn nodded. “If she hasn’t been captured.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” she said as the trio moved down the corridor, apparently a hardened Cardassian officer conducting a pair of prisoners toward some unpleasant fate or other.

After evading four regular security patrols in and around the complex, the group entered the verdant jungle, shielding their eyes from the blazing sun. Although the terrain looked different in the dazzling light, Vaughn realized that they had reached the limit of the base’s security perimeter.

“You’re not really with the Order, are you?” Vaughn said as Omiturin opened a gap in the perimeter forcefield. “I’ll bet you’re not even a Cardassian.”

That seemed to rattle her for a second. But only for a second. She was good, but not perfect.

Moments later a transporter beam swept over him, and Vaughn found himself standing on the pads beside the two Cardassians.

T’Prynn swiveled her cockpit chair in order to face the transporter pads at the rear of the craft. Regarding the group impassively, she said, “It’s good to have you back, Commander Vaughn. I have already laid in and executed a course back to Federation space.”

Omiturin responded before Vaughn could get his mouth open. “Good work, Commander T’Prynn,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to escort Dr. Veruda aft. He needs to rest. We can debrief later.” The two Cardassians disappeared behind the scout vessel’s aft partition, leaving Vaughn standing on the transporter pad, scowling.

T’Prynn rose and approached him. “You appear to have something to say.”

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Vaughn said, hiking a thumb aftward.

“I was aware that a surgically disguised Starfleet operative had infiltrated the Kora II facility’s security contingent. Yes.”

Vaughn decided that Vulcan Starfleet officers must have to take classes in Exasperating Behavior before receiving their commissions. It just couldn’t be a natural talent.

“And you didn’t see fit to reveal that fact to me?” he said.

“We both knew that there was a significant nonzero probability that you would be captured. Had you been told of the presence of a third operative, you might have been made to reveal that knowledge under interrogation.”

Vaughn’s pique began to recede, at least where his Vulcan associate was concerned. “You wound me, T’Prynn. Do you really think I’d crack so easily?”

“You areonly human.” T’Prynn wore the only expression in her repertoire that even vaguely resembled a smile.

Vaughn ignored the good-natured jab. “You and I have worked together on and off for, what, thirty years now?”

“It has been twenty-eight years, nine months, and sixteen days since our first covert mission together.”

Vaughn offered her an I’ll-take-your-word-for-itnod. “I can understand why my lack of a ‘need to know’ might be mission critical. What I don’t understand is why the brass hats in Command sent herof all people.” He gestured toward the aft compartment.

T’Prynn raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

“‘Kree Omiturin,’” Vaughn said. “Come on, T’Prynn. Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out. It’s an anagram for Ruriko Tenmei.”

T’Prynn nodded. “Ah. Your nemesis.”

“Please. She’s a colleague. I’ve made a habit of keeping up with her missions over the last few years. And she’s sent me messages now and then assuring me that she’s been returning the favor.”

“But you had never actually met her before today.”

Vaughn nodded.

“Then I believe I understand your frustration, Elias,” T’Prynn said, folding her arms. “At least in part.”

Vaughn saw that she was still puzzling over something. “Which part isn’t clear?”

“The source of your anger. Are you upset with Starfleet for assigning Lieutenant Commander Tenmei to this mission without your prior knowledge? Or do you resent being rescued by your biggest rival within the bureau—and on your very first meeting?”

He turned those notions over and over for a protracted moment before answering. “Those are excellent questions,” he said at length.

T’Prynn was clearly not finished making probing observations. “She infuriates you.”

“Yes.”

“Irritates you.”

“Yes.”

“Exasperates you.”

“Yes!”

“You are attracted to her.”

“Is it that obvious?”

U.S.S. T’Plana-Hath

2349 Old Calendar

The Ktarian freebooter vessel had already exploded, vaporized as though plunged into the heart of a sun. Vaughn couldn’t spare a moment to admire the spectacular blast.

He still had to make sure that T’Prynn got back aboard the T’Plana-Hathsafely.

Why did T’Prynn always insist on cutting her escapes so fine? Vaughn thought it was a positively non-Vulcan characteristic. But she always gets the job done,he reminded himself as he extended the console’s buffer memory and attempted once again to energize the transporter.

“Her pattern has degraded by sixty-two percent,” Ruriko said. She stood at his side, her hands steadier than her voice as she bridged emergency power to the targeting scanners.

Had anybody ever survived such massive signal degradation during transport? Vaughn wasn’t sure. He had to count on hope—and on the system’s multiply-redundant holographic memory matrices.

“Again.” They both touched buttons in a flurry of motion. Indicators and telltales flashed. The console whined. The transporter cycled.

Again, nothing.

We’re not giving up on you, T’Prynn.

The transporter made strained noises that Vaughn had rarely heard before. A film of greenish organic residue fell from a dissipating column of light, splashing across four of the pads.

Vaughn froze, gazing in Ruriko’s direction. Her huge eyes held the thought that he couldn’t give voice to.