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apparently at a loss for words. Although the Vulcan’s expression remained as impassive as ever, Hernandez thought a tiny fracture was finally beginning to appear in the minister’s heretofore impregnable wall of equanimity. But whether that was really the case or not, she knew Soval had to be aware that his government’s capriciousness had all but swept away whatever goodwill might have existed between him and his colleagues—even, or perhaps especially, Gral and Thoris.

Whatever passed between those three last night obviously didn’t help matters any, she thought, recalling the scuttlebutt that Ensign Valerian had shared with her during the morning bridge shift.

But as Soval stepped aside on the dais, relinquishing the podium to a dour-faced Nathan Samuels, Hernandez realized that the United Earth’s prime minister had to be in the least enviable position of anybody in the room. He’s the guy who has to make the hardest decision of all, she thought, noticing for the first time how much the man seemed to have aged over the past few months. And on behalf of the entire human race, no less.

After all, the only leverage Samuels had over the Vulcans was to threaten to dissolve the Coalition for which he had already worked so hard and sacrificed so much.

His eyes bordered by dry, fatigue-laden arroyos of orange-peel skin, Samuels said, “Earth has no choice other than to accept Vulcan’s help on Vulcan’s own terms.”

And with that, the meeting swiftly adjourned amid a furiously rising gabble of mutters, shouted complaints, and repeated gavel-slams. Hernandez wasted no time maneuvering herself toward one of the chamber’s rear doors, navigating past the tables and chairs through a gathering haze of unreality.

Had she just witnessed the beginning of the final unraveling of the Coalition of Planets? Had Vulcan’s effective withdrawal sundered the allies in a way that even the virtual destruction of Coridan Prime had not?

Just as she reached the doorway that led to the outer vestibule, she noticed a large figure standing in her way.

“Captain,” Admiral Gardner said. “You and Columbia will take the point for Starfleet in getting this Vulcan burglar alarm system up and running. Do you think you and your crew are up to the task?”

Do bears poop in the woods? she thought, even as she realized that the only reason Gardner had assigned this job to Columbia was the fact that Enterprise was still several months away from Earth.

“We’re all over it, Admiral,” Hernandez said with a grin, grateful for an opportunity to focus on something other than the grim, demoralizing future that almost certainly lay ahead.

ELEVEN

San Francisco, Earth

KEISHA NAQUASE ROLLED OVER IN BED, gathering the sheets around her. “So the Vulcans plan to patrol two whole solar systems with some sort of... burglar alarm system?”

“I shouldn’t have told you any of this,” the man said, rolling over beside her and propping himself up on one elbow. “Just forget I said anything about it, okay?”

Naquase got out of bed and began searching the floor for her garments, which were strewn about along with the components of the man’s blue Starfleet uniform, coverall here, boots and undergarments there. The lights weren’t on, but the morning sunlight that filtered through the gauzy drapes made them unnecessary.

“Uh-uh. Sorry,” she said, dressing hastily as she began mentally composing the story she was going to file. “I’m more than happy to oblige you in a lot of other ways, dear heart, but I’m afraid that silence simply isn’t among them.”

Gannet Brooks marched right past the intern’s cubicle and straight into Nash McEvoy’s office. Standing over her editor’s cluttered desk, she cleared her throat loudly when he didn’t look up immediately from the writing padd on which he was working.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way to the spaceport already?” McEvoy said a few heartbeats later, blinking at her in surprise over the top of his thin transparent aluminum glasses. “You’re risking letting your next interview victim escape all the way to Mars.”