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“Picard is known for many things,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Warfare is not among them. In single engagements, he has performed well, but—I am not sure how useful an ally he will truly be if we have to go into battle against multiple Defense Force ships.”

“I think,” Klag said, “the person who twice drove back Borg invasions of the Alpha Quadrant and liberated Betazed from Dominion control is someone I am proud to have by my side.”

“He turned back the Borg because he used their assimilation of him against them—that is not an advantage he will have today. He liberated Betazed with the aid of four other vessels, including that warship of theirs, the Defiant.” Before Klag could respond to that, Tereth held up a hand. “I’m not saying he is not a worthy ally, Captain, but I do think that you should take the lead.”

Klag stared at his first officer for several seconds. He wondered if she was attempting to curry favor with him or if she truly believed what she said. Or, perhaps, both. She had been a superlative first officer—though anyone would have been an improvement on Drex—but she also had far more ambition than Klag was always entirely comfortable with.

“Perhaps you are right,” he finally said. “But Picard has been commanding starships since before either of us was born. I would no more presume to lead him into battle than I would Chancellor Martok. However,” he added, standing up from his chair, “I will not defer to him, either. This mission has been a cooperative effort from the beginning. If we learned nothing else from the war, Commander, it is that a united front is strongest.”

Tereth smiled. “Which applies to arms as well as battles, it would seem.”

Frowning, Klag asked, “What do you mean?”

“You just rose from the chair without stumbling, Captain. Congratulations.”

Klag turned around and stared at the chair. He hadn’t even thought about it. He was too busy focusing on what he was saying to Tereth….

He threw his head back and laughed. Then he turned to his second-in-command. “May it be the first victory of many this day.”

The second time B’Oraq awoke from unconsciousness in Klag’s shuttle was much worse than the first. For one thing, where McCoy had apparently gently laid her on the QongDaq, whoever their latest attacker was had simply tossed her unceremoniously onto the deck of the fore compartment. For another, this time the headache extended to her feet.

Once again, she awoke to Ambassador Worf’s face, and once again he asked, “Are you all right, Doctor?”

“No. My head feels like a targ’ s running loose in it. What happened?”

Worf helped her to her feet. B’Oraq noted that G’joth was still unconscious and propped up against one of the bulkheads, and McKenna and Falce were standing and rubbing their temples, looking like they were in considerable pain.

“We were victims of a telepathic attack,” Worf said. “Our captor rendered us unconscious, placed us back inside the shuttle, and reactivated the forcefield.”

B’Oraq tugged on her braid. “I assume that we won’t be able to cobble together another miracle device to wipe out the forcefield?”

“No.” Worf masked his anger well, but B’Oraq could feel the undercurrent in his voice. She found it oddly appealing.

“So what do we do now?”

Falce muttered, “Panicking might not be a bad idea.”

“Oh, cut that out, Matt,” McKenna said. “There’s got to be a way out of this.”

A voice came from the still-open rear hatch. “Perhaps there—there is.”

B’Oraq turned to see a Vulcan male standing on the other side of the hatch. After a moment, she realized that it was Ambassador Spock. After another moment, she remembered what Worf had told her.

“Are you responsible for this?” she asked.

“Not—as such, no. I do not have much time. Malkus will reassert his control over me—soon.”

Falce frowned. “Who’s Malkus?”

“A—tyrant from many millennia ago. Are you familiar—with Starfleet General Order 16, Lieutenant?”

B’Oraq knew nothing of the regulation, of course, but Worf immediately said, “The fourth artifact?”

Spock nodded. “It was unearthed—here. Apparently,