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“You told me recently that one of your research staff has achieved a breakthrough of sorts,” Valdore added once he had finished bringing Nijil up to date.

His eyes grown large with alarm, the technologist said, “We have indeed recently broken significant new theoretical ground, Admiral.”

Valdore scowled. “Theoretical. Nothing practical?”

“Admiral, many engineering problems still remain to be solved before either the cloaking device project or the avaihh lli vastam will be ready for full deployment. We are still six khaidoa away from full production readiness, at least.”

“You’re talking about half a fvheisn or more!” That was at least half the time it took for Romulus and Remus to tumble jointly about Eisn, the bright yellow star that sustained both worlds.

“Conservatively, Admiral. It was all in the morning departmental update report.”

Valdore muttered a curse and gave the chief technologist a brusque dismissal before switching off the viser by pounding his fist on the switch.

Departmental update reports, he thought, fulminating. Who in all the hells of Erebus has the time to wade through all of that kllhe’mnhe? With the Coalition planets, particularly the Earthers, expanding relentlessly into the formerly sacrosanct far Avrrhinul Outmarches that abutted the core territories of Romulan space, an obsessive commitment to paperwork was something the admiral simply couldn’t afford.

Regardless, Nijil had told him what he’d most needed to know: a reliable warp-seven stardrive remained out of the Romulan Star Empire’s reach, as did a practical cloaking device capable of shielding his ships from detection.

He mulled over Nijil’s unpleasant revelations, his mind racing as it resumed the strategic and tactical improvisations he had begun spinning during his conversation with T’Voras.

Then the idea came to him. It arrived more or less fully formed, as though one of the ancient gods of his ancestors had whispered it directly into his ear.

Now he could see a way to incorporate T’Voras’s recommendation with the untoward news that both the commander and Doctor Nijil had brought him. The new scheme would of necessity involve some degree of delay to the large-scale invasion plans, but would neither interfere with the fleet’s current spate of small-scale, morale-sapping raids nor bind the Empire’s military to Nijil’s whimsically elastic schedules. But most significantly, it still augured a relatively swift and sure Romulan victory over both the humans and their Coalition allies.

Unless, of course, he thought, a certain troublesome Praetor tries to intervene at an inopportune time.

NINETEEN

Wednesday, August 6, 2155

Jokhang Temple, Barkhor Square

Lhasa, Tibet, Earth

KEISHA NAQUASE’S EXHALATIONS STEAMED in the cold, rarefied air of the plaza, and her breathing sounded labored in her own ears as she walked. Pointedly trying to avoid casting a longing eye on the comparative warmth and comfort of the ornate compound nearby—an ancient temple-and-monastery complex known to the locals as “the White House of the Buddha”—Naquase wasted as little time as possible broaching the topic that was uppermost on her mind.

“Your Holiness,” Naquase said as she made a slight adjustment to the small but conspicuous cam she wore on the right side of her head. “My audience would very much like to hear your thoughts about the coming Romulan threat.”

The unlined face of Lian Hua An Gyatso, the eighteenth incarnation in the unbroken line of enlightened beings known across the planet and beyond as the Dalai Lama, displayed an attentive, thoughtful expression as she walked beside the journalist, her saffron robes gathered tightly about her. Then she came to a stop, placed her hands behind her back, and stared at the horizon.

After a lengthy pause, the wad of bubblegum that had temporarily paused in its agitations inside the Enlightened One’s mouth issued a resounding crack. The sharp report echoed like an old-style pistol shot across the sea of seventh-century paving stones