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The commander was about to agree again when he realized just what he would be agreeing to. Suddenly, he didn’t know what to say.

Again, Beverly broke into laughter-and this time, Wesley laughed along with her. “Honestly, Jack, you must be the most predictable man in all of Starfleet. Don’t you know when I’m kidding you?”

Crusher blushed. “Um… sometimes?”

“But what happened after that?” his wife asked.

She stifled a snicker. “After you and Tuvok got out of the bath, I mean.”

He told her the rest-about the fight in the dance hall and their ensuing imprisonment at the hands of Mendan Abbis. About Grace, whose violent end saddened her. About his warning to the captain, and about his timely arrival with Tuvok at the Cordracite fleetyard.

Beverly smiled. “Then the good guys won?”

The commander nodded. “This time.”

“And what about Thul?” she asked.

He shrugged. “As I understand it, the Thallonians are pretty intolerant when it comes to treachery. No doubt, Thul will be placed in prison for a long time. Maybe the rest of his life.”

Beverly sighed. “Wherever he is, I hope he never gets a chance to carry out that revenge he was ranting about.”

Crusher shook his head. “Don’t worry, honey. I think we can be pretty sure we’ve heard the last of Gerrid Thul.”

Epilogue

IN HIS NIGHTMARE, he was once again standing on the bridge of his ship, watching the hideous, blinding flash of his son’s vessel as it reduced itself to subatomic particles on his viewscreen.

“Thul!” someone said.

He looked about at the faces of his officers. They stared back at him, uncertainty etched in their every feature.

“Thul!” someone said again, louder this time.

But the summons hadn’t come from anyone on his bridge. He turned to his viewscreen. There was no one there either.

“Thul!” someone growled.

With a shock, the governor bolted upright-and saw that he wasn’t on his ship after all. He was on the hard, uncomfortable pallet that had served him as a bed for the last several months, ever since he became an inmate of the Reggana City Imperial Prison.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, willing his heart to slow down, Thul swung his legs over the side of the pallet and stared through the translucent energy barrier that separated him from the corridor beyond. There was a guard standing there… and someone else. Someone wearing a dark, hooded robe.

Someone whose bearing was vaguely familiar.

“A visitor,” the guard spat.

A feminine hand emerged from the robe and deposited something in the guard’s big hand. Quickly, he stuffed it into a pocket of his tunic, but not before Thul saw the distinctive glint of latinum. Then, with a glance at the prisoner, the guard walked away.

Thul was alone with his guest. “Who are you?” he asked as he approached the energy barrier-though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“It is I,” the hooded one said in a soft whisper. Pulling back her hood, she revealed herself as Mella Cwan.

The prisoner had forgotten how plain the emperor’s sister was, how flatly unappealing. Nonetheless, he managed to put all that aside and smile his most fervent smile.

“My lady,” he said breathlessly.

Mella Cwan smiled back at him, affection and sadness illuminating her eyes. “Lord Governor… how it grieves me to see you like this.”

No more than it grieves me, Thul thought bitterly.

But what he said was, “Please, my lady… I am no longer a governor, that exalted position has been stripped from me. I am once again General Thul. It is the penalty for ambition.”

Her brow knotted over the bridge of her nose. “And a long penalty it is,” she replied. “A lifetime…”

“Is very long,” he agreed. “But the worst part of my imprisonment is not its length in years, but the knowledge that I will never share any of them with you-as I surely would have if my plan had borne fruit.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “If only your brother had not been so stubborn when I came to him in his throne chamber…”

“He is stubborn,” Mella Cwan agreed. “But he is also the emperor. No one can oppose his