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By Root 938 0

the sofa. Holly, who was tall with long legs, sat ramrod straight, her feet planted comfortably on the floor. By contrast, Raisa had awful posture, even though she was in a lighter gravity than she was accustomed to, and she sat hunched on the sofa; her lesser height meant that her feet were dangling over the edge of the couch, looking just like Nan’s youngest granddaughter, an image that Nan hoped she would one day cease to find amusing. Besides, it wasn’t especially fair to Raisa, who may have looked like a little kid sitting in a high chair, but who in fact had coordinated the planetary defenses on Pangea during the Dominion War and had been responsible for the upgrades to those defenses that had kept that planet from suffering the same fate as Betazed and several other Federation worlds that had fallen to the Jem’Hadar.

As for Jas, he sat on the edge of his chair, as if expecting to bolt any minute.

Regarding the retired admiral, Nan gave him a smirk of her own. “Expecting to run a race, Admiral?”

“No, ma’am,” Jas said in a subdued voice.

“Then relax, will you please? You look like you’re about to jump on a grenade.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jas moved back slightly in his chair.

Nan sighed. Dealing with Jas Abrik had been awkward from the beginning, as he had been the campaign manager for Nan’s opponent during the election. However, Jas also knew the real reason why Zife had resigned, and in exchange for not revealing that information-thus plunging the Bacco administration into a war with the Klingons before they’d had a chance to change the color of the carpet-Esperanza had offered Jas the position of security advisor.

In that, at least, he had proven to be competent. He’d been in Starfleet for decades, and that experience was now being put to good use.

Leaning back in her chair in the vain hope that it would inspire Jas to do likewise, Nan said, “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume that we’re starting with the Romulans.”

“Good guess, ma’am.” Holly held up a padd and started reading from its display. “Outpost 22 along the Romulan Neutral Zone picked up a ship heading straight for it from the Miridian system in Romulan space.”

“Military?”

Holly hesitated. “In a manner of speaking.”

Nan rolled her eyes. “What the hell is- ?”

“The outpost’s sensors read it as a Shirekral-class vessel.”

That got Jas’s attention. “What?”

“My history of Romulan ship registry’s a bit rusty,” Nan said dryly.

Jas was back to the edge of his chair again. “Madam President, the Shirekral-class vessels haven’t been in operation since the late twenty-third century.”

“Earlier than that, actually-this one still has an ion drive.” Holly gave Nan a firm look. “Ma’am, vessels of this type were common during the Earth-Romulan wars of the twenty-second century, but all the ones that were still in active service in the late twenty-third century had their ion drives replaced with the singularity drives that they still use.”

“All right,” Nan said, “so we’ve got a bunch of Romulan soldiers on a ship that was obsolete a hundred years ago.”

“Actually, ma’am, that’s not what we have. First of all, no Romulan soldier would be caught dead on a ship that old-even with the military in the mess it’s in right now. Also, we’ve been able to make a general lifesign reading on long-range, and every indication so far is that the ship is full of Remans.”

Nan blinked.

Raisa shot a look at Holly next to her. In a voice that had a trace of a Russian accent, she said, “Repeat that, please, Captain.”

“The outpost’s long-range sensors are picking up Reman lifesigns-and only Reman lifesigns.”

“Hell.” Nan let out a long breath. “What do you think, Holly?”

“I think they’re refugees.”

“That’s a stretch,” Jas said.

Holly glared at the security advisor. “They’re heading straight for Outpost 22, Jas, and they’re doing it at warp three-point-one-two, which is faster than those ships are supposed to be able to go. Twenty-two is in the middle of nowhere, but it’s also the closest Federation station to the Miridian system. No way that it’s not their intended destination.