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The ship’s pilot said, “We’ve cleared the stratosphere. Now entering orbit of Eerlik. We’ll have our window to the moon in fifteen minutes. All systems reading nominal.” He sounded almost surprised.

“Good,” Emarur said from his seat to the pilot’s right. The flight deck of the Senbolma was small, with only two chairs at one large console. Ansed stood behind Emarur, looking at the amazing vista on the viewscreen in front of her. She had seen pictures of what Eerlik looked like from orbit, but nothing could have prepared her for the experience. No picture had adequately conveyed the deep burgundy of the oceans, the swirling, majestic patterns of the clouds, or the deep brown of the land masses. As they orbited, she saw the Lankap mountain range, just outside the capital city. After a minute, they flew over the teardrop-shaped form of Maryllo Island, where she had been born. Then came the ragged, beautiful Kyepas Coast, where she’d spent so many summers as a girl.

It took her breath away. To see the landmarks of her life this way was staggering.

Undlar was in the small cabin he and Ansed were sharing—space was at a premium on the Senbolma—meditating. Ansed was half-tempted to run down, grab him, and force him to look at this view. She certainly was determined, now more than ever, to do whatever she could to save her world.

Emarur turned around to look at Ansed. “Nice view, huh?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Never been up here before, have you, First Speaker?”

“No, I haven’t.” She smiled. “It’s funny, I always used to dismiss people who took trips to the moon to tour Ganitriul as silly tourists. Now I’m sorry I never did take one of those trips. It would’ve been worth it just to see this. I had no idea the oceans were so burgundy. And the mountains . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“I never get tired of it, either. Although, personally, I think the view is better back home,” Emarur said, referring to the Pevvni colony. He turned back to his console and entered some commands into it. “Compensate for that, will you?” he said to the pilot, then turned back to Ansed. “I have to say, it’s weird flying without a net like this. Still, it’s kind of thrilling, too.”

“Thrilling?” Ansed asked, surprised.

“Oh sure. Not knowing every possible variable, being surprised by a random meteor or another ship in the same orbit. That doesn’t happen with Ganitriul controlling everything. Never any worries about that. Makes you get lazy.”

“What you call ‘lazy,’ sir, I call safe. I see no benefit in taking unnecessary risks.”

With a wide, infectious grin, Emarur said, “Well, First Speaker, I guess that’s why I own a spaceship and you’re a politician.”

Ansed couldn’t help but return the grin. Emarur was right, of course. His reaction made perfect sense for one in his position. Ansed herself had never understood the urge that drove the Pevvni to colonize in the first place, but that didn’t mean she would demean it. And it was perfectly possible to thrive without Ganitriul—all the major powers of the Alpha Quadrant did just fine without one central computer. Indeed, Ansed wondered if one computer could administer something as large as the Federation.

Enough, she admonished herself. Let us first see if one computer will ever administer Eerlik again before we wax philosophical.

“Approaching window now,” the pilot said. “This is interesting. I’m reading a ship in orbit around the moon. Too far away for a positive identification.”

“Another ship?” Ansed asked. “That could be the answer. Whoever is on that ship could have sabotaged Ganitriul.”

“That certainly would explain everything,” Emarur said. “Get ready to head for the moon,” he said to the pilot.

Emarur initially kept the viewscreen on the view of Eerlik even as they headed toward the moon. The planet receded as they got further away. Within a few minutes, however, he switched the view to that of the moon—and the ship in orbit around it.

“That’s a Starfleet ship,” the pilot said. “Registry is NCC-81623, U.S.S. da Vinci, Saber-class.”

“Which one