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“In what way?” asked the Captain of the Kalliope.

Picard turned to him. “Once again, an alarm went off.”

The Tale

BY THAT, I mean a high-pitched whooping that came from a dozen speakers around the rebel camp, stopping everyone in his or her tracks. At the same time, there was a beeping sound in our immediate vicinity.

Responding to it, Brant pulled out his communications device. His features were taut with urgency as he flipped the thing open again and spoke into it.

“What is it?” he asked.

The voice on the other end was deep and gruff. “A fleet of Abinarri ships, not more than a few minutes away.”

Brant cursed. “How did they find us?”

“Does it matter?” asked the voice on the other end.

“I suppose not,” Brant answered. He looked at Abby, then me. “Looks like they know this is our headquarters.”

“Could our appearance have led them here?” Abby wondered.

Her brother shook his head. “Not likely unless they had a pretty good idea of our whereabouts to begin with.”

“The question,” said the tall fellow with the orange scales, “is what we’re to do now. All of our vessels except the mercenary are off tormenting the Abinarri elsewhere.”

Brant frowned. “And the mercenary can’t stand up to a fleet all by herself.” He bit his lip. “She can’t outrun it, either. And even if she could, we couldn’t all board her in time.”

“Planetary defense systems?” I suggested.

“Good idea,” Brant told me. “That is, if you’re planning on staying in one place for a while. We can’t afford to do that.” He tilted his head to indicate the sky. “For this very reason.”

The muscles fluttered in Abby’s temples. “There’s another possibility,” she pointed out.

Her brother’s eyes lit up with newfound hope. “Of course,” he breathed. “The warbird!”

It was true the Romulan vessel would make a difference in the battle. She was a powerful ship, as fit as she had ever been, and in the last few days Abby’s men had begun to get the hang of her.

Abby looked at me with fire in her eyes. “I need your help, Picard. With Thadoc hurt, you’re the only one capable of taking the helm.”

I couldn’t argue with the accuracy of her declaration. However, I wasn’t a rebel like Richard Brant. I wasn’t a treasure hunter. I was a Starfleet officer, who had vowed to serve one master and one master only and that master was the Federation.

But I knew who the Abinarri were now. I understood how they operated and what they could do to a subject society. And though I hadn’t seen their tyranny with my own eyes, I didn’t have to.

Because I wasn’t just a Starfleet officer. In the final analysis, I was also a man.

Abby’s features went taut. “Don’t think for a minute you’re getting out of this,” she told me.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, unable to keep my mouth from pulling up at the corners. “You’ve got yourself a helmsman.”

Tapping my communicator, which I still wore under my tunic, I called up to the warbird. “Mr. Worf?”

“Aye, sir?” came the reply.

“Two to beam up.”

A couple of seconds later, I found myself on the Romulan bridge again, Abby alongside me. Without a word, she swung into the center seat.

In our absence, Corbis, Gob, and a couple of others had come up to the bridge. All four of them were standing by the aft stations, staring suspiciously at Abby and myself.

I was not thrilled about their presence there. But for the time being, there were more important matters on the agenda.

Worf looked at me. I could tell from his expression that he had already detected the Abinarri on his sensor grid.

I joined him at tactical for a moment. “Brant’s down there,” I said sotto voce. “He’s joined a group of interplanetary rebels. Those ships you see are bent on destroying them.”

The Klingon wanted to know only one more thing. “Will we be fighting on the side of the underdog?”

I nodded. “We will indeed.”

Worf smiled a grim smile. “I was hoping you would say that.”

Just then, Corbis spoke up. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“We’re engaging an enemy,” Abby told him.

“Who is it?” asked