All he could really do was watch.

He knew that he had tried his best, just as Trip had done. Just as every member of this crew had done, as always.

Only this time, everyone’s best simply wasn’t going to be good enough.

Centurion R’Kal i’Rrhiol ch’Chulla finished locking down the S’Task’s helm controls with shaking, sweaty hands. Then she said a final prayer to all the gods of Erebus.

Now there could be no turning back, no matter how strongly her fear assailed her. Her duty to the Empire discharged, R’Kal quietly committed her daeinos aehallh–her immortal soul–to the sacred destination that awaited it in the next world….

Unencumbered by the ceremonial mask that tradition demanded he wear at all diplomatic functions, Ambassador Lekev sagged wearily against the railing in one of the small, private observation chambers aboard the Coridan Defense Frigate Krekolv.For the duration of the current crisis, Lekev and other key officials in Coridan Prime’s government–including Chancellor Kalev herself–would remain aboard the Krekolv,high above the devastation that could rain down on Coridan Prime at any moment.

Lekev looked out the wide window at the planet far below. For now, Coridan Prime clung to its familiar appearance of serenity. As ever, the cloud‑streaked blue world continued turning slowly on its axis, basking in the rays of Coridan’s single red dwarf star. But the planet, neatly bisected by its nightside terminator so that half of the hemisphere facing Lekev was draped in darkness–relieved in tiny bright spangles and glowing gossamer streaks by the lights of distant cities and high‑ways–seemed to be holding its collective breath, as though anticipating the unthinkable.

Almost directly between the planet and the Krekolvlay the complicated array of interlocking modules, docks, and mechanical armatures that comprised Coridan Prime’s principal starship construction and repair facility. Several vessels, ranging from small to quite large–all of them evidently not being used in the current planetside evacuation efforts because they were either under repair or still being built–were currently docked at the huge complex, which was slowly drifting across the terminator toward the planet’s night side as Lekev watched.

Lekev had never been so weary before in his life. But he had also never before felt as though his labors had been so thoroughly worthwhile. Ever since Jonathan Archer’s warning of an imminent, massively destructive Romulan attack had reached the news media and Coridan Prime’s Chancellory, Lekev had become an integral part of Chancellor Kalev’s defense and evacuation team. He had spent the past two days helping to coordinate the government’s evacuation efforts, personally herding thousands of children, women, and elderly people onto transports for much of that time.

Of course, even a world as wealthy as Coridan Prime lacked the resources to conduct a full‑scale planetary evacuation in a matter of mere days. The central world of the Coridan system, which supported more than three billion people, was simply too populous to allow such a plan to be carried out effectively. However, it was at least conceivable to move many millions of people to the regions of the planet considered least vulnerable to the aftermath of a catastrophe like the one about which Archer had warned them.

Though he felt some justifiable pride in the government’s alacrity in handling the crisis, the ambassador was well aware that factors other than the welfare of Coridan’s people had influenced the chancellor’s quick response to the looming disaster. With her government now on extremely vulnerable footing because of Coridan’s ongoing civil upheavals, Chancellor Kalev had no choice other than to appear to be decisive and strong.

And although Lekev wasn’t at all sanguine about Chancellor Kalev’s self‑serving political motivations–Lekev had always considered her an inveterate opportunist, forever pandering to her people’s lowest common political denominator–he harbored no doubts about his own purpose: he had simply been determined to do everything he could to save as many lives as possible.

“Ambassador.”

Lekev turned toward the voice, leaving Coridan Prime slowly turning behind his back.

“Yes, Chulev?” the ambassador said to his unassuming young assistant, who seemed to have conjured himself out of thin air just inside the observation chamber’s door.

Chulev bowed his head deferentially. “The last of the chancellor’s cabinet members are finally on board, Mister Ambassador. Captain Solnev plans to move the ship to a higher orbit now, as a safety precaution.”

“Thank you, Chulev.”

“Sir, do you think the Coridan Defense Fleet stands any chance at all of intercepting the attack?”

Lekev offered his aide what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “There’s alwaysa chance, Chulev.”

Certainly there was a chance of detecting and stopping this lethal but so far invisible threat that was now headed straight for Coridan Prime at many multiples of light‑speed. A threat that could arrive at any moment, and from any direction, far faster than any eye could register it.

There was indeed a chance. But even with two full days of advance warning, that chance was as infinitesimally small as the Coridan system was gigantically large.

“Is there anything else, Chulev?” Lekev said.

Chulev nodded. “I also came to see if there was anything further you required of me before I retired for the evening.”

Lekev hadn’t thought about it until just now, but he imagined that faithful young Chulev had probably not gotten any more sleep than he himself had over the past two days.

“No, no, nothing, Chulev. Thank you. Go now, and get some rest.” If you can,he thought.

Chulev nodded again, then turned back toward the door.

Another thought suddenly occurred to Lekev. “Wait, Chulev.”

Chulev paused in the doorway. “Yes, Mister Ambassador?”

“Your family, Chulev. Do you know if they were able to get out of Uridash City?”

Chulev’s normally bland, businesslike mien grew bleak. “I haven’t been able to reach them, sir. I can only hope they made it onto one of the evacuation transports and got themselves to safe ground.”

Safe ground,Lekev thought. The phrase referred to the relatively few land regions on Coridan Prime’s surface that weren’t so laced with subsurface deposits of dilithium, pergium, and other energy‑rich minerals as to become potential deathtraps when the attack finally came.

“You and your family have myhopes as well, Chulev,” Lekev said before dismissing his assistant again.

Once more alone in the observation chamber, Lekev turned back toward the world of his birth, with nothing to do except wait.

He didn’t have to wait long.

The next instant, a klaxon blared at an earsplitting volume. Lekev recognized the sound from Captain Solnev’s security briefing. It meant that something unauthorized had just passed sunward through at least one of the Coridan system’s two outlying asteroid belts, and at multiwarp speed.

He couldn’t remember whether that meant that death would come to Coridan Prime in the space of heartbeats, or sooner still.

Centurion R’Kal’s heart raced as the S’Task’s computer read off the final countdown. Her mind cast back to memories of a man with hair and eyes as black as space, and the plump, laughing girlchild she had created with him, both of whom First Consul T’Leikha had promised lives of privilege and wealth for the rest of their days.

“Rhi.

“Mne.

“Sei.”

A quick glance at her flight console told R’Kal that S’Taskwas moving at its maximum possible speed–and confirmed that her target remained squarely centered in the little vessel’s flight path. She had deactivated her viewer as soon as her target had come into range. She had no need–or desire–to see the sapphire world that lay at the end of her trajectory.