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“T’Luadh,” he said. “I require your assistance.”

A predatory smile spread slowly across her face. “The Tal Shiar lives to serve, Admiral. I assume you are speaking of the intelligence that your people gathered during their sweep of the rubble of the Uaenn Ei’krih Outpost.”

Unwilling to volunteer any information that her reputedly omniscient spy bureau hadn’t already managed to gather on its own elsewhere, he said, “You tell me.”

“All right, Admiral,” she said, apparently not offended by his caution. “Haakona has come into possession of certain Vulcan technologies. You want me to get to the bottom of it.”

He was impressed, though again unsurprised. “Correct. I trust you understand the danger to the Empire that such a Vulcan-Haakonan connection would pose if it were allowed to continue.”

“I do indeed, Admiral. Therefore I shall apply my resources to the problem with the tenacity of a wild hnoiyika.”

Now that Valdore better understood the origin of her smile, he returned it; her grin did indeed make her resemble a ravenous hnoiyika about to sever the jugular of some terrified rodent.

“But I must caution you, Admiral,” T’Luadh continued. “Even the fiercest hnoiyika must be patient. Vulcans are quite clever adversaries. Tracking down and cutting off the specific supply line in question will take a great deal of careful intel gathering on the ground, and could take a considerable amount of time and effort.”

Valdore knew he was not renowned for his patience. But he was also a military man of a highly practical bent; he knew when it was time to bow to necessity’s nonnegotiable demands.

“In this instance, T’Luadh, results are far more important than raw speed,” he said. “But even if success can come only slowly, I trust I need not remind you that failure is not one of our available options.”

She nodded and vanished from the screen, leaving Valdore alone with his thoughts.

And vainly struggling to confine his worries to those matters he was capable of influencing directly.

Sihaer nnea Rrhiol ch’Chulla, Romulus

”Major, I have an assignment for you,” said the woman on the screen.

Talok tried to conceal how pleased he was by the prospect of the imminent alleviation of his between-missions boredom; such ennui was an occupational hazard that he didn’t like to broadcast, especially to his Tal Shiar superiors.

“I’m listening, Colonel T’Luadh.”

“It’s an extremely important assignment.”

Sure it is, he thought wryly as he nodded toward the screen. But they’re all critically important, aren’t they?

“This mission should be quite interesting to you, personally, Major,” she continued. “It begins on Vulcan.”

In spite of himself, Talok’s right eyebrow rose in a steep slope, wordlessly ratifying her presumptions. He hadn’t been to Vulcan since he’d almost succeeded in subverting that planet’s government, alongside the ousted Administrator V’Las, in preparation for an Andorsu war and a Romulan conquest, both of which, sadly, had been aborted two years ago.

“Tell me more, Colonel.”

SIXTY-SIX

Friday, April 2, 2156

Enterprise, near the Berengaria system

JONATHAN ARCHER STEPPED OUT of the turbolift and began a slow, counterclockwise stroll around the bridge’s comfortingly familiar circumference. He nodded to each individual crew member working at the various duty stations as he passed them.

By the time he’d completed about three-quarters of the circuit, a hard realization struck him: With the exception of Malcolm Reed at the tactical console and Hoshi Sato at the comm station, none of the bridge personnel currently on duty had been aboard Enterprise for longer than a few months. Elrene Leydon had occupied Travis Mayweather’s old position as the alpha-shift helmsman for the past four months, and almost everybody else present had come aboard far more recently than that. The absence of T’Pol and Trip now seemed embarrassingly conspicuous.

Archer quietly kicked himself for his momentary lapse into moping self-indulgence. He told himself that