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“I didn’t say there was a dalliance,” Picard reminded him.

The Rythrian sighed. “But surely, something followed.”

Picard reflected on the comment, but declined to respond to it directly. Instead, he took a circuitous route.

“What ultimately came to pass,” he said, “was this: An alarm sounded through the warbird, summoning us to the bridge.”

“Another instance of poor timing,” Bo’tex noted.

Picard ignored him. “Red Abby and I took a lift and arrived on the bridge in a matter of moments only to find ourselves face-to-face with a viewscreen full of strange vessels.”

The Tale

THEY WERE PIRATES, like the ones we had encountered before. At least, the diversity of ships in their fleet seemed to indicate as much.

But this time, there were twice as many of them.

“Jaiya again?” I wondered out loud.

“No,” said Abby appraisingly. “This isn’t Jaiya’s bunch. Unless I’m sorely mistaken, this one’s a damned sight more aggressive.”

I nodded. “Lovely.”

We were seriously outnumbered. If it came to a battle, we would find ourselves at a marked disadvantage.

Abby turned to me. “Stand off to the side. You don’t want anyone to see you.” She glanced at Worf. “You, too.”

As it happened, Assad was on the bridge at the moment. Without waiting to be ordered, he took over at tactical. Thadoc simply remained where he was, at the helm.

As Worf and I moved to the periphery of the Romulan bridge, I considered the irony inherent in our situation. Not so long ago, my lieutenant and I had had to conceal our desire to remain anonymous. Now, Abby was more concerned with our anonymity than we were.

But then, she didn’t want to lose us. And if we were recognized by the pirates, she might well have done so. After all, as I noted before, a pair of Starfleet birds-in-the-hand were worth a great deal on the open market perhaps even more than some fabled bird-in-the-bush.

Satisfied that we were out of sight, Abby turned to Assad. “Hail them,” she said, referring to the pirates.

Assad complied. Less than a second later, the wrinkled, ratlike face of an Yridian filled the screen.

Abby seemed to know him. “Captain Dacrophus,” she said, not bothering to conceal the antipathy in her voice.

The pirate captain seemed genuinely surprised at the sight of her. But then, when one hailed a Romulan vessel, one expected to find oneself conversing with a Romulan.

“It’s good to see you,” he said at last.

Abby frowned at Dacrophus. “I’d say that, too, if I were too stunned to think of anything else.”

The Yridian shrugged. “Frankly, when I found the remains of your worthy ship, I thought you and your crew had been murdered. I’m glad to see my fears were groundless especially since I’d rather deal with someone I know than some stranger.” He paused to inspect our bridge. “Funny,” he said. “You don’t look Romulan.”

“But I’m in charge of this warbird nonetheless,” Abby told him. “What the hell do you and your people want from me now?”

Dacrophus smiled. “I know. It must appear that we’re hounding your every step. But then, we have been ever since we discovered what you were after.” His smile deepened. “That is, the Hoard of Dujonian. As you can imagine, we’d like to unearth that treasure ourselves.”

Abby muttered a curse. “Even if we assume I know where it is, why would I tell anyone you especially?”

“Because if you don’t,” the Yridian warned her good-naturedly, “we’ll blow you out of existence.”

A compelling argument, I mused.

Dacrophus rubbed his hands together. “On the other hand,” he said, “we pirates are not as greedy as people seem to think. If you’re willing to be reasonable, we’d be perfectly happy with only half Dujonian’s treasure. That way, no one has to go home empty-handed.”

Abby frowned again. Dacrophus had cleverly given her an option she could live with assuming, of course, she could trust him to honor it.

“All right,” she said finally. “You can tag along if you like. But don’t give me any reason to doubt your sincerity.”

The Yridian chuckled. “I would never be so foolish,” he told her. On that note, he