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For nearly every moment since the attack, Duffy had been gripped with apprehension that he had somehow unwittingly prompted the Tholians’ actions, and that something he had done or ordered had resulted in the Defiant and his teammates being lost in the rift. He saw now that his friends had probably harbored similar concerns, and had channeled that anxiety toward finding an answer. Maybe the true motivation behind the attack was somewhere in these transmissions, just waiting to be discovered.

“That’s very, um . . . damn, Carol. You’re good.”

Abramowitz smiled. “I listened in once or twice, but I couldn’t make sense of any of it. Tholian speech sounds like someone grinding glass, let alone whatever scrambling protocols they add. I thought it would be useless to us, until I talked to Bart.”

Aside from being a master linguist, Bartholomew Faulwell had been steadily carving a reputation for himself in Starfleet circles as a crack cryptographer. One of the oldest members of the da Vinci crew, Faulwell had been one of a legion of minds tapped by Starfleet brass during the Dominion War to aid in sifting through enemy communications. His quick and accurate translations of garbled or encrypted transmissions had proved vital to admirals planning strategic moves for the allied forces. Had the war still been waging, Duffy knew that the S.C.E. would most certainly not be reaping the benefits of Faulwell’s skills.

Faulwell let his smile grow a bit as he patted Abramowitz on the shoulder. “We don’t know much, but it’s a start. Tholian communiqués are typically brief, probably out of fear that somebody will try to do just what we’re doing. We can tell you one thing for certain, though. Our escort ship was ordered to fire on the Defiant, and on us, by the Assembly.”

Duffy’s brow knit in confusion. “So they didn’t just go space-happy, then. Any clues as to why they attacked us?”

“Absolutely,” Faulwell replied. “The last thing sent to the Assembly before returning the order to fire was the same tricorder information that Captain Gold sent to us from the Defiant about whatever it was the away team found.”

Of course, Duffy thought. The away team had found a mechanism of Tholian design stored in one of the Defiant’s cargo bays. After recording detailed scans of the device, Captain Gold had notified the commander of the Tholian ship, Nostrene, about their discovery.

And naturally, things had gone to hell shortly afterward.

“So what is it about that gadget that has the Tholians all worked up?” he asked. Based on the information P8 Blue had gathered and on the theory she had put forth, Duffy and Stevens had figured out that the strange device found by the away team was some sort of power emitter. Using that as a starting point, they had scoured the da Vinci’s databanks for all references to Tholian encounters by Starfleet ships. Sensor scans recorded by various vessels during those engagements supported Pattie’s hypothesis that the mechanism she had found was similar in design to those employed by Tholian ships to generate their infamous energy webs. But what was so secret about that? The Federation had known about the Tholian’s web technology for more than a century. What was so special about this particular piece of equipment?

Duffy shook his head in growing frustration. He wasn’t used to not having all the pieces to a puzzle within easy reach. As an engineer, he prided himself on being able to see to the heart of any problem based solely on the evidence available to him at the time. The answers were here, he knew, somewhere in the midst of the data gathered by the da Vinci’s sensors or by the away team. It would simply require more time to sift through it. Time, however, was something he was quickly running out of.

Still, he did have enough time to show his gratitude to a pair of specialists willing to take the mugato by the horn. It was just such initiative that made Duffy appreciate the rewards of command.

“This is great, you two,” he said, returning his attention to Faulwell. “I’ll make sure to report