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Thul’s brow furrowed. “Regulations …?” Then understanding dawned. “I see. It is a security matter.”

Picard nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

The Thallonian dismissed the apology with a flip of his hand. “It’s probably a wise policy, now that you mention it. You must have all sorts of visitors on your vessel from time to time. You can’t be expected to discern the honest from the dishonest.”

“Then you take no offense?” the captain asked.

“None at all,” his guest assured him. He reached into a vest pocket and removed a flat, latinum-plated chronometer. “But if there’s no guided tour today,” he said, consulting the device, “we should probably return to the planet’s surface. It’s impossible to tell how many brushfires may have begun in our absence.”

“Done,” Picard responded.

Taking a last sip from his tea cup, he got up and retrieved Thul’s as well. Then he brought them both to the replicator.

“This way,” he told the governor, indicating the exit.

“After you,” Thul told him.

Together, the captain and his guest left his ready room and walked back to the Stargazer’s transporter facility. En route, Picard wondered how Crusher and Tuvok were doing.

He hoped they were all right-and that they were making some kind of progress in their quest for the truth.

Ulassi’s heart pounded hard in her chitin-shelled chest.

The daughter of a high-ranking government official, she had been indulged and cosseted and sheltered all of her young life. However, she had never done anything even vaguely significant or lasting.

Though others envied her and she had taken a bit of pleasure in that, her station in life had always felt like a burden to her.

Now, at last, Ulassi was acting on her own. She was doing something she believed in, instead of something she was expected to do. It was a remarkably heady sensation.

She opened her mouth as she climbed, panting to release some of the body heat she had built up. Her body, slim and attractive but unused to such exertion, would ache the next day. She was sure of it.

But that was all right. In fact, the prospect was thrilling to her in a way. Until that moment, she had only used her physical form for her own selfish pleasure. The stiffness she would feel tomorrow would be a welcome reminder of the worthy work she had performed today.

Finally, muscles quivering from the strain, Ulassi reached a plateau. She sat there for a moment, trying to catch her breath, and surveyed the terrain below. The perspective was impressive to say the least, but Ulassi was in no mood to appreciate the natural beauty of the place.

Mountains, forests, the pure expanse of water that stretched out beyond them… what good was any of it when her people were enslaved? How could she find joy in the view when she knew the price her father and others had to pay for it?

Once, Cordra III had been independent, able to sustain its people with the bounty of its fields and its forests. Now, the once-proud Cordracites needed trade, negotiation, commerce. And with whom?

With Melacron V. The very thought was revolting to her.

Some Cordracites, Ulassi’s well-born father among them, were still trying to bring about peace with the Melacron. They were trying to smooth over their considerable differences. But the notion made Ulassi’s stomach roil like a giant grub worm.

Peace, she thought, with that ugly, violent, inferior race? How could anyone in their right mind even consider such a thing?

Spurred by the thought, Ulassi resumed her climb down the treacherous rock face. Halfway to her destination, her feet slipped and she gasped in fear. Stones tumbled beneath her, striking off the cliff walls as they fell and finally splashing in the water below.

She had almost been killed, she realized. She had almost lost her life in the pursuit of something noble. By the gods, she thought, this was exciting! This was living!

Trembling with fervor, trepidation and joy, Ulassi finally made her way to the rocky outcropping she had been aiming