Trip watched the pleasantly blue world as it grew in the forward viewports until the warm radiance of its cloud‑dappled sunlit side dominated his view. The planet seemed extraordinarily Earth‑like, although its ocean‑dominated surface was punctuated by long chains of volcanic islands rather than large continental masses. The view became distorted for several minutes as Phuong guided his vessel into the atmosphere on a landing trajectory, atmospheric friction superheating the air around the craft until it ionized and gave off an almost blinding orange glow. Then, almost like a light turning off, the inferno dissipated, replaced by a view of a steadily approaching ocean, replete with a chain of black, mountainous, and vegetation‑rich islands.

Following an apparently preprogrammed approach path, Phuong set the Bransondown on a relatively flat stretch of obsidian‑like rock, only a few hundred meters from what appeared to be a concrete Quonset hut‑type structure that seemed almost to have been extruded directly from the glassy stone that surrounded it.

“The local Ejhoi Ormiinunion hall, I presume?” Trip asked wryly, gesturing through the front viewport toward the nearby structure.

“So say our best intelligence files,” Phuong said, nodding.

Trip powered down the console in front of him and rose from his copilot’s chair. “Let’s hope your best turns out to be good enough.” Instinctively, Trip moved aft toward the weapons locker Phuong had showed him shortly after he’d first come aboard and opened it.

“We won’t be needing those,” Phuong said.

Trip turned toward the other man and scowled. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No, Commander, I mean it. We’re talking about the Ejhoi Ormiinhere. They may be trustworthy, but they’re also extremely careful and more than a little justifiably paranoid. The best we can hope for is that they’ll politely relieve us of any weapons we’re carrying while we’re here. The worst is that you’ll panic them and get us both shot.”

Trip had to concede that Phuong had a point. He clearly had a lot to learn about the world of espionage, and suspected that Phuong’s diplomatic background had served him well. After another moment’s hesitation, he closed the locker.

Without any further conversation, the two men each ran a quick systems check on the special travel garments they’d picked up on Adigeon Prime. Once they were satisfied that everything was as it should be, they exited the Bransonthrough the port hatch and descended to the dark, glassy‑looking surface, which turned out not to be anywhere near as slick and slippery as it had appeared from the air. Trip supposed this surface must have been laid down countless millennia ago, and had since been subject to various weathering processes that had roughened it up over the eons. They began crossing the ancient lava field, which Trip thought smelled vaguely like gunpowder, and moved steadily toward the Quonset hut; Trip tried to take the lava’s apparent great age as a hopeful sign that they probably wouldn’t have to contend with a volcanic eruption during their stay here, which he sincerely hoped would be brief. I like a tropical island paradise as much as the next guy,he thought. But I can do without the constant worry about Romulan patrols popping up. Or whether or not we can really trust theseEjhoi Ormiin characters.

When they were still perhaps fifty or so paces away from the hut, a door slid open in the structure’s side, and a trio of dour‑looking, paramilitary‑clad figures stepped out into the white afternoon sun.

Romulans,Trip guessed, judging by their distinctly Vulcanoid appearance. They were all males, and he could see at once that at least two of them were armed with heavy pistols of some sort. Whether these weapons turned out to fire directed energy beams or ballistic metal pellets, he had no choice other than to assume that they were lethal. Following Phuong’s lead, Trip stopped in his tracks and raised his arms high over his head, keeping his hands open to demonstrate that he posed no threat.

As one of the trio of Romulans–the one that wasn’t carrying any visible weaponry–stepped ahead of the other two, Trip thought, Let’s hope we get our money’s worth out of these Adigeon translation devices.

“ Jolan’tru,Ch’uihv of Saith,” Phuong said. “I am Terha of Talvath, from the Devoras cell.” Thanks to their implanted translators, both Phuong and Trip could converse fluently in the language they now knew was called Rihannsu.

When Trip got a close look at the face of the man whom Phuong had addressed as Ch’uihv, he experienced a sharp, undeniable sensation of dйjа vu. All at once he was convinced that he had seen this man before, although the precise context of that previous encounter eluded him.

After taking a lengthy beat to look both Phuong and Trip up and down, Ch’uihv finally turned to Phuong and said, “Your reputation precedes you, Terha. Jolan’tru.” He made a polite half‑bow in Phuong’s direction, and Phuong casually copied the gesture as though it was something he had done all his life.

Realizing not only that their translators were working as promised, but also that their surgical alterations had at least passed visual muster, Trip forced himself not to heave an audible sigh of relief. But he almost took an involuntary step backward when Ch’uihv abruptly turned to face Trip.

“And you, Cunaehr–I truly never expected to see youagain, especially after that accident on Unroth III.”

Once again, Trip was rattled by that same feeling of dйjа vu. Even the man’s voice sounded familiar.

He suddenly realized why, and that abrupt awareness very nearly caused him to lose his composure. But he really thinks I’m Ehrehin’s assistant, Cunaehr,Trip thought, his mind racing. So he hasn’t seen throughmy disguise the way I’ve seen throughhis . At least, not yet.

Trip was determined to cling to that slender advantage for as long as he possibly could. “It was a very near thing,” he said finally, trusting his Adigeon‑altered vocal cords, as well as his translator, to complete the illusion that he was, indeed, Cunaehr. “I look forward to seeing Doctor Ehrehin again.”

The man named Ch’uihv broke out into a smile, an occurrence that Trip gathered was probably rare. And seeing a smile on such a Vulcan‑like face struck Trip as extremely odd. “And I am sure that Doctor Ehrehin will be delighted to see you. It’s extremely fortunate for us that you are here, in fact; your presence may make him easier to handle. Please, come inside with us.”

The stolid presence of the armed men by the door made it crystal clear to Trip that Ch’uihv wasn’t making a request.

“Lead the way,” said Phuong, his voice betraying no fear.

Instead of taking them straight to Doctor Ehrehin, as Trip had hoped, Ch’uihv and his men led them into a comfortably appointed sitting room or waiting room, where yet another Romulan–a youngish‑looking female this time, also clad in paramilitary garb, and looking every bit as dangerous as any of the men–brought them refreshments before leaving them alone together in the room.

Trip and Phuong sat at a small, round table, both of them eyeing the tray of exotic‑looking fruits, meats, and breads that the woman had left for them.

Phuong immediately grabbed a plate and some silverware. He heaped some food on a plate and started to eat.

“Hey!” Trip said. “You sure that’s safe?”

Phuong paused for a moment, then spoke around a mouthful of food. “You think they’d bother poisoning us? If they really wanted us dead, I think they’d just shoot us.”

Trip had to admit that Phuong had a point. Besides, he couldn’t deny the insistent growling of his own stomach, and he quickly began digging into the food before him with gusto, though he studied the tall, clear carafe that accompanied it with some suspicion. It contained an intensely blue liquid that reminded him uncomfortably of something called a Blue Hawaii, an alcoholic beverage with which he’d once had an unfortunate experience back on Earth many years ago.