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“Tell me that freighter isn’t yours, Captain Leyton, and you wouldn’t mind my destroying it,” Tal challenged. Dax took it as a hopeful sign that the Romulan was opting to talk.

“I could never sanction the destruction of a civilian vessel….” Leyton began, but Dax decided it was time to intervene.

“May I?” Dax interjected and, without waiting for an answer, somehow deftly diverted attention to himself. “Admiral Tal, I am Ambassador Curzon Dax. The freighter is ours,” he said, eyes on the forward screen, grateful he couldn’t see the look on Leyton’s face. “Sent as a scout to investigate reports of Romulan transmitters on Renaga, just as your government sent a similar vessel to Imago IX some months ago to see if we had established a footprint there. Your scout found nothing, ours has found something.”

He let that sink in for a fraction of a second.

“Now, then, we both know there’s something on Renaga we are both interested in, the very reason you sent infiltrators, and that something is hilopon…”

Tal seemed to hesitate. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, of course.”

“Let’s not waste time then, Admiral. The Empire wants hilopon; the Federation wants hilopon. There are currently no official communications between our governments, but you and I can initiate contact with the Renagans and work out a solution that will enable us both to obtain what we want without involving our respective bureaucracies.”

Tal’s eyes narrowed. Finally, he said, “Agreed.”

“Excellent!” Dax smiled benevolently. “Then we can beam down together. But first, a tradeoff. If we say we never detected your transmitters, you overlook our little freighter.”

“I need to consult with one of my… aides…” Tal said, his eyes sliding to something or someone off screen.

“Of course,” Dax said, and both sides muted comm while they consulted.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” Sisko said, returning to the conn in time to hear some of this exchange. “The Old Man comes through again. We may get out of this alive after all.”

“Hilopon?” Tal demanded of Koval.

“An absolutely essential medicinal,” Koval assured him. “You’ve heard rumors of a resurgence of the Gnawing on some of the colony worlds?”

Tal wondered how much Koval knew he knew. “Perhaps.”

“Our scientists have reason to believe hilopon could be the cure,” Koval said evenly. He watched a momentary doubt cross Tal’s hawklike face. “Or did you really think we came all this way because of a couple of transmitters? Be careful what you do here, Admiral. Diplomacy is not for amateurs.”

A lesser man would have lost his temper. Tal almost did. But unless he could make the Tal Shiar operative’s death look like an accident, his crew would be forfeit. The thought stayed him. It was the only thing that could.

On Okinawa, Captain Leyton was scowling at Curzon.

“What in blazes is hilopon and why do we want it?”

“Bacteria. Occurs naturally in the soil here. May have some use as a topical medication,” Curzon said, his back to the screen so he couldn’t be lip-read. “We want it because the Romulans want it. It’s called diplomacy.”

Admiral Tal had made up his mind.

“There will be no mention of an alien freighter in my logs, Curzon Dax. And if I make no mention of a freighter, neither will any member of my crew,” he said for Koval’s benefit. “I’m sure you’ll agree that what you thought were Romulan transmissions were really only artifacts. Natural occurrences prevalent in this region of space.”

“Agreed!” Curzon smiled. “Isn’t it fortuitous that we both arrived here on the wings of rumor? Shall we discuss when and how we shall make contact with the Renagans?”

Albatross was too bulky to fit through the shuttlebay doors, so Okinawa took her in tow.

“Tell your crew to gather their personal belongings and prepare to beam aboard, Ben,” Leyton told him. “That damaged engine isn’t going to hold for long.”

“But, sir, she’s not-” Sisko started to say, before he realized that of course the Romulans would be listening in.