Dont you go thinking that way, Charles Anthony Tucker the Third,he thought. After all, “Gracie Tucker hadnt raised him to be a defeatist. Or a nihilist. But she also didnt raise you to shoot unarmed Romulans in the back,something deep in his mind said, something that felt like guilt. He pushed the thought aside, but something else his mother had told him as a child took its place.

She had read to him regularly at night before bedtime, often from books of fairy tales and fables. One particular fable came to him now, about a frog that carried a scorpion across a river. When theyd gotten halfway across, the scorpion stung the frog, poisoning him. As they slipped beneath the water, the frog asked the scorpion why he had stung him, knowing that they would both drown.

“Because its my nature, the scorpion said. “You knew I was a scorpion when you picked me up.

Was Sopek the scorpion and he the frog?

He cursed whatever had possessed him to agree to come to Romulus in the first place, the pride that had let him believe that he could stop these people. The Romulans were scorpions and vipers, and living beside them, hiding among them, he was becoming like them. He had not died from the poisonous stingat least not yetbut knew that he had been poisoned all the same.

But instead of experiencing death, he had undergone a metamorphosis. And whatever he was developing into was not something he thought his mother would recognize, even if the master surgeons of Adigeon Prime were to bob his pointy ears and restore his original human appearance in every detail.

A light on the escape pods small, simple instrument panel began flashing green, the Romulan color of danger, and this was followed instantly by a shrill beeping. Trip turned away from Sopek and read the instruments, then peered out the narrow viewport to try to get a better sense of what was causing the proximity alarms to go off.

Dead ahead, far too close now for the maneuvering thrusters to miss, was a dark shape illuminated only by the escape pods external running lights. Despite the devices slow tumble relative to the pod, and the fact that it was visible only as a silhouette, Trip recognized it immediately from his studies of Ehrehins files.

It was one of the many gravitic mines that the Romulan military had deployed throughout this region over the past several decades in their never‑ending effort to discourage the Klingons.

And the escape pod was about to smack straight into the damned thing.

How do I keep getting myself into these situations?Trip asked himself, perhaps for the final time.

Then he closed his eyes and thought about TPol.

EPILOGUE TWO

Day Forty, Month of KriBrax The Hall of State, Dartha, Romulus

T HE DECURION FINISHEDhis report, snapping to attention the moment he finished speaking.

Valdore so loved when his subordinates did that, as if they were puppets who could speak only when hechose to permit it. “Khnairu rhissiuy,he said, thanking the young man for his report. He dismissed the soldier by returning his salute, then leaned back in his chair, turning his head to favor Nijil with a broad smile.

“Its all going according to my plan, Valdore said. “The arrenhehwiuatelecapture system is working flawlessly. The assault on Isneih had been a brilliant success. The small settlement there had fallen quickly to the Vulcan vessels Valdores forces now controlledships that the Vulcan Defense Force had deployed in the system to protect Vulcans interests in the planets scientific outpostand even now his soldiers were setting up a beachhead in the system, from which Valdores forces would mount their next wave of attacks against the so‑called Coalition of Planets. The pangs of conscience he had felt in the wake of the deaths of so many on Coridan had faded, tucked away behind a barrier made of stuff as stern as the walls that the Vulcans built up around their emotions.

From a recess below the surface of his sherawood desk, he pulled out the bottle of carallunwine again. Luxuriating in the moment, he poured himself and Nijil two glasses of the amber liquor. Passing one to the scientist, he said simply, “Drink.

Of late, something in Nijils manner had made Valdore feel ill at ease. He wasnt certain what it was precisely, and he had been unable to find any evidence that the brilliant scientist was anything but a loyal supporter who would rather cut his own throat with the green ehrieurhillhglass from the carallunbottle than betray his master. But somethingstill tickled the hairs at the back of the admirals neck.

Soon, he would create a level of comfort with Nijil in sharing a celebratory toast to Valdores successes. And one day, when I deem it most appropriate and necessary, you will drink, my ally, and I will not,Valdore thought. And then we shall see what secrets you are hiding.

“My only disappointment, Valdore said, moving a sip of the sour liquor around in his mouth as he spoke, “is that we never succeeded in capturing control of either one of Starfleets NX‑class starships.

Nijil nodded gravely. “We still do not know precisely what happened to Columbia. She may well still be intact. If so, we will have other opportunities to determine whether she is more vulnerable to the arrenhehwiuathan Enterpriseproved to be.

“When the fleet strikes in full against Seichi, we may yet learn Columbias fate, Valdore said, smiling. He stood and walked over to the rounded window, outside of which the turrets and spires of the city speared the sapphire sky and framed the Apnex Sea beyond. “And we will no doubt soon make another run at Enterprise.

The war he had just begun would be a glorious one for the Romulan Star Empire and for Praetor Dderidex. But he had been setting up his own plans as well as he moved the Praetors agenda forward, with no small amount of aid from one very well‑placed and trustworthy agent in the Tal Shiar. An agent he felt he could trust as much as he trusted anyone other than himself, or perhaps Nijil, or even the late, lamented Centurion Terix.

When the time was right, and the Empires victory had become all but inevitable, he would finally make his move. TLeikha, the First Consul who had once had him cast into one of the Praetors stinking dungeons, would pay for her crimes, as would the Senate that had ratified her decision.

And even Dderidex himself will tremble.