Sulu smiled thinly, an acknowledgment that contained no good feelings in it. The true captain of Enterprisehad just left the bridge, she knew, and he’d soon be leaving the ship as well. Sulu glanced back over at the turbolift doors, at where she had last seen Harriman, and suddenly, she wondered whether she would ever see him again.

Lieutenant Vaughn sat stiffly in a chair in Commander Gravenor’s quarters. Taking advantage of the quiet and the stillness in these last few moments, he forged through a series of mental disciplines he’d picked up during the last few years. As he’d moved from behind his desk at Starfleet special operations and out into the field, he had discovered himself challenged in ways he’d never anticipated. On some missions, he had been tested physically, an eventuality for which he hadprepared; the intense fitness regimens required of all field operatives had so far seen him through the most difficult of circumstances. And he had trained himself mentally as well, sharpening his powers of deduction and observation, of memory and strategic thinking, and those skills too had stood him in good stead.

But there had also been other, unexpected trials, trials surprising for their simplicity: things such as boredom, and discomfort, and frustration. Vaughn had once shadowed a Benzite engineer for three months, a man suspected of trafficking in purloined Starfleet technology, but who’d ended up being nothing more than an honest and extremely dull person. Another operation had required Vaughn to wear prosthetic appliances—most notably on his face—for weeks in order to infiltrate a Tellarite mining facility. Still others of his missions, while justified and perfectly executed, had failed to yield the desired results.

Through the course of his field service, Vaughn had learned numerous and varied mental exercises that allowed him both to prepare for and to endure such psychological adversities. He had been taught some techniques by other special ops officers—primarily by Commander Gravenor—while he had discovered some on his own. Right now, he employed them all in an attempt to ready himself for the coming mission.

They weren’t working.

Vaughn rubbed at his eyes, concerned by what he felt, and by his inability at the moment to deal appropriately with it. While boredom, discomfort, and frustration likely would not threaten Vaughn in the hours and days ahead, another feeling had already taken hold of him: fear. The emotion had not developed from a concern for his own safety or survival, he knew—he had become adept at facing personal danger with relative composure—but out of his concerns for others. If something went wrong on this mission—and there were so many ways in which something could—then people— lotsof people—would die. And that risk haunted him.

A single-toned chime sounded in the quiet room. Vaughn stood from the chair, intending to answer the door, but Commander Gravenor immediately emerged from the bedroom and said, “Come in.” As she crossed to the door, it opened, and Captain Harriman entered the room. He waited until the door had slid closed behind him before speaking.

“Enterpriseand Tomedwill be leaving the station in a few minutes,” he told the commander. “Are we prepared?”

“We are,” Commander Gravenor said. She glanced over at Vaughn, as though seeking to confirm his readiness. He nodded once in response. “I’ve got our things laid out in there,” she said, looking back at the captain and pointing toward the bedroom.

“Good,” Harriman said. He reached beneath the bottom of his uniform jacket and withdrew a small handheld device. Vaughn recognized the piece of classified equipment at once as a sensor veil. He and Commander Gravenor wore them as well. “Let’s go.”

The commander turned and strode back toward the bedroom, the captain close behind her. Vaughn followed, and as he crossed the room, he felt his heart rate begin to climb. Stop it,he told himself, knowing that he would have to find some way to banish—or at least rein in—this sense of dread. You have a mission,he thought, a mantra that he had adopted on a recent, exceptionally grueling assignment. You have a mission,he thought again, trying to focus his mind.

In the other room, Captain Harriman and Commander Gravenor gathered up the few items they would be taking with them. Vaughn quickly did the same. Then, with a bloody war in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants hanging in the balance, they waited.

Linojj tapped at the thruster controls, maneuvering Enterpriseaway from the Romulan space station. Tomed’s first officer, Subcommander Linavil, had confirmed the return route back to the Federation, and now Linojj started the ship along that path. She watched the readings on the helm display carefully, paying close attention to Enterprise’s position relative to the station. “We’ve departed Algeron,” she said when the numbers indicated that the ship had pulled away sufficiently. “We are free and clear to navigate.”

Free and clear?Linojj thought, acknowledging to herself the folly of what she had said. We can’t be that free with anIvarix- class warship chaperoning us through space.

“Take us to full impulse,” Sulu ordered. She sat behind Linojj, in the command chair. “Let’s get out of this system.”

“Engaging impulse power,” Linojj said. She walked her fingers across the helm panel, coaxing the slower-than-light drive to action. Around her, the ship stirred like a living thing, as though rising up onto its haunches and preparing to spring forward. The low growl of the impulse drive grew, and an almost imperceptible vibration coursed through the ship’s structure like the tensing of muscles. In a short time, Linojj knew, Enterprisewould leave the Algeron system behind, and then the ship could leap to warp. “One-quarter impulse,” Linojj said, reading the velocity from her display. She saw the momentary fluctuation in the ship’s acceleration the instant before Lieutenant Commander Buonarroti reported it.

“I just read a slight instability in the deuterium stream to the port impulse reactor,” he said from the starboard engineering station. By the time he’d finished speaking, the flux had vanished.

“Is it a problem?” Sulu asked. Linojj kept her eyes on the helm readouts, monitoring the velocity curve to see if the fluctuation would recur.

“I’m not sure,” Buonarroti said. “It may have been an isolated—” Again, Linojj saw the situation on her display right before the chief engineer announced it. This time, though, the ship’s acceleration did not steady. “There it is again,” Buonarroti said. “And now the stream isn’t stabilizing.”

“What’s causing it?” Sulu wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” Buonarroti said. “I’m trying to pinpoint the problem now.”

“We’re at one-half impulse,” Linojj said. She heard the sound of the ship change, an inconstant whine now joining the hum of the impulse engines. The velocity indicator continued erratically upward.

“Fluctuations are increasing,” Buonarroti said. “Both in number and in size.”

Linojj saw movement in her peripheral vision, and she looked in that direction to see Sulu striding toward the engineering station. “Are we in any danger?” the commander asked.

“Not yet,” Buonarroti said. “But the temperature is beginning to climb in the core.”

“Do we need to shut down the impulse engines?” Sulu asked.

“Possibly,” Buonarroti said, “but…let me try to adjust the deuterium flow, try to control the instability.” Linojj watched as the chief engineer expertly worked his panel.

“Captain,” Tenger said from the tactical station. “The radiation level in the port reactor is also increasing.”

Sulu did not hesitate. “Shut them down, Xintal.”

“Acknowledged,” Linojj said. Her hands fluttered across her panel, working to bring the impulse drive offline.