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deck. It was all but unheard-of for a mere centurion to address a subcommander in such a disrespectful fashion, let alone to interrupt a conversation between a subcommander and a commander. But as the Terrh’Dhael’s security-chief-cum-political-officer, Belak had extraordinary wide latitude when it came to matters of deportment and protocol. Every time the man tempted her to shoot him through the nearest airlock, T’Met had to pause and remind herself that he reported directly to the Praetorate, which effectively made him the Terrh’Dhael’s ranking officer in every way that counted.

Not for the first time, T’Met contemplated how the Praetorate might react to a report that Belak had suffered a sudden tragic “accident.” The deep scowl on D’ridthau’s face, as well as his clenched fists, revealed that he had to be thinking much the same thing.

“We are all soldiers of the Empire, Belak,” T’Met said in forcedly mild tones. “We all understand that.” Belak appeared mollified, at least somewhat.

But D’ridthau was not so easily disarmed. His hard gaze now locked upon that of the much smaller political officer, he said, “It may be a fatal mistake not to question the coming battle.” He gestured toward the planet on the viewer, which had expanded so that it now filled more than half the screen. “We know too little about these Haakonans to be assured of success today.”

“What more do you need to know than what you know already?” Belak countered coolly. “Long-range probes have revealed the locations of their highest-concentration population centers. Terrh’Dhael will vaporize the largest of those,” he said, pausing to glance down at his wrist chronometer, “beginning in about five siuren, and the rest of the attack force that trails us will appear immediately thereafter to extract maximum advantage of the resulting confusion as we blow the rest of their population centers to Vorta Vor.”

“The plan seems sound enough,” D’ridthau said, “provided we have not badly underestimated the Haakonans.”

Belak looked annoyed. “Why would you presume that?”

“Other than a healthy tactical conservatism?” D’ridthau gestured again at the approaching planet, one of whose dual primary stars was emerging from behind Haakona’s western limb. “Consider the nature of the twin Haakonan suns. Both are extremely variable in their output, oscillating by nearly an order of magnitude between their dim and bright phases. Yellow to blue and back again in the span of only a few ch’Rihanturns, and with little real predictability. This always caused grave difficulties for the occupation forces we once deployed here. Yet the Haakonans now seem to take it entirely in stride. It’s as if they have developed technology that can absorb their suns’ excesses.”

Belak shrugged, unimpressed. “Then this technology will number among the many spoils of this war.”

“All right,” T’Met said, raising a hand in an appeal for quiet. “Let us lay this matter aside for consideration later.” Assuming, she thought, that there is a later.

She was uncomfortably aware that the exchange she’d just witnessed begged a deeply unsettling question: If the Haakonans could absorb the outbursts of a variable binary star with little difficulty, then how much of a threat would even an armada from the Romulan Star Empire pose?

“Any change in Haakona’s status?” T’Met asked, striding away from the two glaring combatants and toward the forward ops station, her hands clasped contemplatively behind her.

“None, Commander,” Decurion Denorex said a moment before Centurion R’Tal and Uhlan Tomal confirmed his observation.

T’Met nodded. “Lock all weapons tubes on primary target city.”

“Weapons lock confirmed.”

After pausing to take a deep breath, T’Met said, “Open fire.”

An instant later, the command deck was engulfed in a blinding, incendiary whiteness. Perhaps because this was the last thing T’Met saw or felt before awareness fled her, her last thoughts were of Vorta Vor.

FIFTY-TWO

Enterprise, Neptune orbit

JONATHAN ARCHER STOOD at the center of his bridge, the apparent