Declassified

“D5?” McLellan repeated. “Wow. I didn’t think I’d ever see one of those.”

Terrell shrugged. “The Klingons have always been big on getting the most out of proven ship designs. I guess that goes double for the ships themselves.” So far as he knew, the D5 class of battle cruiser had been all but replaced by the Klingon Empire more than a decade ago in favor of the larger, faster, and more powerful D6 and D7 designs. That such older ships were still in service— or had been returned to service—might itself be an interesting clue to the present status of the Klingon military apparatus.

Doesn’t make them any less nasty when the shooting starts.

“Any sign they’ve spotted us?” Nassir asked.

Theriault shook her head. “Not that I can tell, sir.”

“Okay, then,” the captain said. “Let’s not press our luck. Take us back down, Sayna.” As zh’Firro set about returning the Sagittariusto its makeshift refuge, Nassir turned to regard Terrell. “It seems the Klingons are serious about planting their flag here.”

“It’s a sure bet they like it for the same reasons we do,” Terrell replied. “They need dilithium to feed their ships, too.”

Frowning, Nassir shook his head. “Still, it’s a long way from the Klingon border, and it’s not as though there aren’t plenty of resource-rich planets a lot closer to home. And so close to Tholian space? It’s like they’re hoping to provoke a reaction.”

“I’ve never known a Klingon to turn away from a good fight,” Terrell said, “but even they usually have a plan. If they’re here, they’ve got a reason.” Whether that reason had anything to do with the Taurus Meta-Genome, he could not say, though the notion of the Klingons attempting to acquire knowledge of the mysterious alien DNA and all it represented was not one that provided him comfort.

The sound of the ship’s engines changing pitch made both men turn toward the viewscreen, and they were treated to another exhibition of zh’Firro’s piloting skills as the Sagittariussettled once more on the surface of Traelus II. Dust from the ship’s maneuvering thrusters billowed up from the ground, obscuring the view depicted on the screen by the vessel’s array of imaging sensors. A moment later zh’Firro cut the engine power and the hum of the impulse drive faded.

“Nice driving, Sayna,” Nassir said before turning back to Terrell. “We need to call home and tell them what’s going on.”

Terrell released a small, humorless chuckle. “Well, until our friends out there decide to go looking somewhere else for something to do, or Ilucci gets the warp drive back on line, we’re not talking to anyone. Any ideas?”

Moving to sit in the command chair, Nassir replied, “Unless someone has a warp-capable carrier pigeon handy, for now we wait.”

“What about when it’s time to leave?” zh’Firro asked, turning from her console. “We can’t sit on top of a thallium deposit forever, after all. Sooner or later, they will find us.”

Terrell started to reply, but stopped when he noted Theriault sitting quietly at her station, a thoughtful expression on her face. Then, her expression changed, and a mischievous grin graced her delicate features.

“What?” Terrell asked, confused.

Without responding, the ensign turned back to her station and began to key instructions on the array of controls before her. As a pair of the console’s display screens began to scroll data in response to her queries, her smile only broadened.

“I think I’ve got an idea.”

8

Though Starbase 47’s officers’ club had been open and available for use by the station’s crew for several weeks, it was only the second time T’Pry

The club’s atmosphere two hours prior to the start of gamma shift was anything but quiet. The overhead lighting had been extinguished in favor of rows of recessed track lighting along the walls near the ceiling, and small lamps on each of the tables as well as various points along the bar. A quick visual inspection told T’Pry

None of the other chairs at the young woman’s table were occupied, and T’Pry

Perhaps she simply awaits someone who conforms to specific criteria.It seemed to T’Pry

Moving from her vantage point at the front of the room, T’Pry

“Commander,” she said, a slight stutter accompanying the first syllable.

T’Pry

Smiling, Sandesjo replied, “It’s good to see you, too.” She gestured to the chair closest to T’Pry

“You’re not expecting someone?” T’Pry

Sandesjo shook her head. “I’m afraid not, though several people have tried to get me to change my mind.” As T’Pry

“You may,” T’Pry

A few seconds passed with the two women eyeing each other before Sandesjo’s brow knit in apparent confusion and she released a small chuckle. “Well?”

Maintaining her impassive expression, T’Pry

“I asked if you wanted something to drink,” Sandesjo said, her eyes begi