We have all the time in the world together now,Hawk thought as the holodeck door beckoned.

Chapter Twenty

Romulus, Stardate 50454.1

Senator Pardek looked out from the cliffside veranda, his dark, deep‑set eyes surveying the sun‑dappled surface of the Apnex Sea, which lapped gently at the jagged rocks far, far below. A small flock of mogaiwheeled lazily overhead in a muted gray sky. Beneath them, blood‑green waters stretched placidly to the horizon, and lapped at a shoreline teeming with multicolored succulents. Pardek thought, as he often did when he came here, that this must surely be the most beautiful vista on all of Romulus, the jewel in the Romulan Star Empire’s crown.

It was also possibly the safest place he could be. There were no air‑ or watercraft anywhere to be seen, thanks to the warning messages broadcast by his automated security system. But Pardek also counted on the protection of his own flesh‑and‑blood security staff, an experienced cadre of loyal Romulan soldiers who were as accomplished in the art of repulsing unwanted visitors as they were at keeping out of sight when not needed. The villa was the one place to which he could retreat from the often vexing intrigues of the Senate and the incessant infighting of the Continuing Committee. Here, he could almost convince himself that the vast length and breadth of the Empire contained nothing that might serve to trouble him, from his principal home in the Krocton Segment to the most remote Neutral Zone outpost; that young upstarts in the Senate weren’t constantly gunning for his position; that the Vulcan radical Spock wasn’t still at large somewhere in the Empire, spreading the subversive doctrine of Romulan–Vulcan unification to ever‑increasing numbers of willfully gullible souls.

And that headaches such as the Tal Shiar’s fiasco in the Geminus Gulf were merely bad dreams from which he would awaken.

Pardek had already decided that he would remain at the villa until tomorrow morning. Then, the Continuing Committee would begin its probe into the fitness of Chairman Koval to continue leading the Tal Shiar. Only then, once Pardek was forced to return to the Senate chambers to take gavel in hand before the board of inquiry, would he pause to worry about the possible consequences of Koval’s inquest.

At least, that was the plan.

Returning to the central courtyard, Pardek tried to banish all thought of Koval and the Tal Shiar by concentrating on his garden. Here were the finicky Terran roses he so valued for their sweet scent, there the fast‑growing crystalline life‑forms, which the Tzenkethi called nirikeh;their crystals twinkled, silver and emerald and violet in the subdued sunlight, seeming to grow before his eyes. He continued walking, passing under the fronds of the rippleberry tree the Dominion Vorta Weyoun had given him last month as part of a nonaggression‑pact overture. Thatoffer was going to require some serious thought and debate, Pardek told himself; he trusted the Vorta even less than he did the Tal Shiar.

Beyond the rippleberry tree lay the patch of ground he reserved his prized Edosian orchids. The pink‑edged, yellow flowers, which now stood on knee‑high stalks, required specially prepared soils and a great deal of attention. This particular variety had come into his possession many years ago, introduced to him by an unusually well‑mannered and talkative Cardassian groundskeeper he had met at the Cardassian Embassy, a few weeks prior to Proconsul Merrok’s tragic demise. The orchids had provided Pardek with an agreeable diversion from that unpleasant business–Merrok had been a personal friend, despite their many political differences–and the orchids’ delicate blooms had delighted him ever since, despite the constant labor they demanded.

Perhaps,Pardek thought, kneeling beside the orchids to inspect them more closely, they serve as a metaphor for politics.

He rose and walked into the house’s sunlit central atrium, where he watched as his daughter, Talkath, practiced her martial arts exercises. So intent was the nineyearold on the slow, intricately flowing motions of her hands, elbows, and legs, that she did not seem to notice his presence. He smiled silently as he watched her executing her precisely timed movements, delivering slowmotion kicks and blows in a lethal yet exquisitely lovely ballet.

She was a beautiful girl, bright and strong, her movements well‑coordinated. Since his wife’s untimely death in a shuttle accident four years prior, Talkath was all he had. She was his future, his legacy, his very life. Nothing in all of the Empire was more important to him.

Pardek walked farther into the house, got a warm cup of kali‑falfrom the replicator, and took a seat in the breakfast nook. The ethereal strains of one of Frenchotte’s oratorios gently wafted in from the atrium. From his vantage point in the kitchen, he could still watch his daughter without her noticing his presence.

“She’s such a lovely child,” said a voice from behind him.

Startled, Pardek splashed the pungent blue‑green liquor down the front of his tunic. He stood, turning quickly toward the voice.

Tal Shiar Chairman Koval stood in the spacious kitchen, craning his head to look at Talkath.

“How did you get in here?” Pardek demanded, his heart in the grip of an icy fist. He pitched his voice low, not wishing to alarm his daughter. But a quick glance in her direction revealed that she had heard nothing.

“A Tal Shiar chairman would be most ineffective if he were unable to come and go as he pleased,” Koval said enigmatically. “Besides, your villa’s transporter scramblers appear to be last year’s model.”

“We shouldn’t even be speaking, Chairman Koval,” Pardek said, realizing that he was still holding his cup– and that his grip had grown nearly tight enough to shatter it. Pardek carefully set it down on the breakfast nook table before continuing. “The hearing about the Chiarosan debacle will be held tomorrow. Not before.”

“And that is why I am here today,Senator. I am well aware that some on the Continuing Committee have characterized my efforts in the Geminus Gulf as a failure.”

Pardek found himself stifling a sardonic laugh. “Hence my use of the word ‘debacle,’ Chairman. How elsecould one describe what happened in the Chiaros system?”

“The Praetor now controls three new sectors of previously nonaligned space,” Koval said, apparently unfazed by Pardek’s comment. “That, in itself, should be cause for celebration.”

Pardek wasn’t convinced. The cost had been too high. “Three sectors of nothingness,Chairman. And the information you traded to acquire them–”

“Consisted,” Koval said, interrupting, “of the identities of Romulan operatives who were already scheduled for termination. In addition, the so‑called ‘spy‑list’ I sold to the Federation includes the names of several Starfleet officers who have not engaged in espionage on our behalf, but whose continued existence our Praetor regards as dangerous. These individuals will therefore, in the eyes of Federation authorities, be strongly suspected of treason. And new double agents are even now planting evidence against these individuals, while getting in line to occupy their soon‑to‑be‑vacant positions.”

While Koval spoke, Pardek studied his face. Was Koval’s right eyelid drooping slightly? Lately there had been whispers in the Senate chambers that the Tal Shiar chairman was showing incipient signs of Tuvan syndrome. Pardek could only hope that this was so; the man had thus far proved immune to all other threats.

Whether ill or hale, however, Koval still both impressed and unnerved Pardek. The Tal Shiar leader seemed to have a contingency plan for every eventuality, a talent for survival not seen in the Empire since the halcyon days of the bird‑of‑prey commanders of two centuries past.