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under those eyes, mute testimony to sleepless nights spent in service to the Empire.

Verrak had spent half the night pleading with her to plan an escape if things did not turn out well. Jekri had not listened. Such things were for cowards. She had been ordered to appear before the Senate and its Proconsul, the Praetor, and the Empress in her office as chairman of the Tal Shiar. She would not disgrace the position she had done so much to earn.

So it was that when they came for her, three strange, inscrutable centurions whose names she never learned, she stood ready and awaiting them. They roughly seized her arms. With an ease that clearly surprised them, she broke their grip.

"There is no need for such actions," she said mildly. "I will not resist." She had meditated for three hours before they were due to come for her, and she felt calm and refreshed. She even felt a little hopeful. Perhaps her words would finally do some good.

The centurions ignored her, and grabbed her again. She resigned herself to their rough handling.

No one, not even Verrak, came to see her off.

It was as familiar as her own quarters aboard the Tektral, this hall down which she now entered as a captive of the Romulan Empire. She marched, head held high and silver eyes gleaming, at the center of a group of centurions. Their booted feet made a martial music as they strode down the smooth stone floor of the Romulan Senate chambers.

They had bound her hands. The ropes chafed, and

green blood was starting to appear on the rough surface.

How often had she herself led such a brigade, marching forward with a traitor to the Empire bound behind her? But this time, it was a role reversal that chilled her to her very core, even as she knew that there had been no honorable alternative to this moment.

Tramp. Tramp. Tramp. Tramp.

She saw, as if for the first time, the rainbow hues of the banners of every noble house of the Empire. The colors were almost painfully bright. The chill that permeated this room at all times felt to her particularly cold. Her senses were heightened, but from fear or from weeks of attentive meditation, or possibly both, Jekri could not tell.

And at the far end of the endless-seeming walk, the Empress sat on a throne that had not been moved from this site for centuries. She wore her favorite color, red, today, Jekri noticed with a strange detachment. Hadn't the Empress worn red the day that Jekri had come with Lhiau at her side? The day that had set the stage for this hour, this moment? Oh, she had been full of arrogance then. She, Jekri Kaleh, had found Ambassador Lhiau, who had brought the flawless cloaking device with him, who had corrupted the Empress's mind, who had been directly responsible for Jekri's presence here as a prisoner instead of one of the highest ranking Romulans in the Empire.

On the Empress's right stood Lhiau. He was clad in soft robes of pastel colors that made his fair features and golden hair look striking. He did not bother to conceal his pleasure at seeing his rival brought so low. To the Empress's left, in Jekri's old position, stood the Praetor. His expression was unreadable.

Were you friend or foe, those times when you warned me, Praetor? Jekri wondered. Either way, you had best be careful. Lhiau stands in your old place, on the Empress's right. You stand where I ought to. If I can fall, old friend, then so can you.

Anger washed over her, and she tasted bitterness. If she could undo that day, she would, but such wishes were futile. She had made the choices that had brought her here. And looking back over them, Jekri realized that she could not have done anything else.

The long walk ended at last. Jekri stood at the foot of a long stairway, looking up at her Empress. A strong hand on her shoulder slammed her to the floor in a kneeling posture. Her kneecaps hurt from the impact of the unforgiving stone, but she did not so much as grimace.

They all waited for the Empress to speak. Jekri bowed her head, but out of