“Can you get a fix on their life signs?” Linavil asked.

“Trying,” Akeev said. “Negative, but…they’ve tapped into internal sensors from the same location.”

“Shut them out,” Vokar ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Akeev said. He worked his controls for a moment, and then said, “I can’t isolate their connection for some reason.”

“Disable the surrounding links into the network,” Linavil said.

Vokar felt the change in Tomedbefore he heard it: the initial vibration of the ship, carried through its structure, through the bulkheads and decking, as the warp drive began operation. He raced to the helm, seeing confirmation there of Tomed’s transition to light speeds, even as the bass pulsation of the engines rose around him. He began working the panel, attempting to regain control of the ship.

Linavil dashed up beside him. She observed for a moment, and then said, “They’ve locked us out.” She quickly dropped to the floor, onto her back, and reached up beneath the console. “The helm’s still operational, though. I can reroute the panel, manually bypass the lockouts.”

“I can do that,” Vokar told her. “You get to the shuttle compartment and send out a message.”

“Yes, sir,” Linavil said, rising back to her feet. Once more, she headed for the turbolift.

“Admiral,” Akeev said, “I’ve shut down their sensor access. I’m also reading a major decrease in the destabilization of the containment field; it’s suddenly drawing power through different relays.”

Vokar acknowledged Akeev, then stopped Linavil before she left the bridge. “Subcommander,” he said. She turned back toward him as the turbolift doors glided open.

“Sir?” she said.

“Make sure your disruptor is set to kill,” he told her.

Harriman clambered through the equipment conduit, his muscles no longer aching as badly as they had been. The repeated, awkward movement through the cramped maintenance tunnels during the time on Tomedhad taxed his body, but the flow of adrenaline eased much of that pain right now. Still, he would have preferred his own discomfort to the reasons for his heightened physical state. The continued presence on the ship of six Romulans endangered not only this mission, but the Federation itself. If word of Starfleet personnel attempting to commandeer Tomedreached Romulus and Qo’noS, war would be the consequence, with the two empires uniting against a common foe. The loss of life in the Federation would be unimaginable.

Around a corner in the conduit, the beam of Harriman’s beacon picked out a maintenance hatch just a few meters ahead, where he’d expected to find it. He crawled forward, anxious both to be free of these restrictive surroundings and to meet the threat of the Romulans still on board. Since he had first conceived of this plan so many months ago, and through the more detailed plotting that had begun after the Romulans had taken the world of the Koltaari, this had always been the stage most susceptible to failure. Had the entire crew abandoned ship, the flight to the Neutral Zone would likely have been uneventful, but now…

Harriman could only hope that the Romulans in the escape pods knew nothing of the special ops team aboard their vessel. The timing of events suggested that to be the case, but if not, then all had already been lost. Providing he, Gravenor, and Vaughn could subdue the remaining Romulans, he could take the ship back to the escape pods and allow the containment field to fail. The result would be the deaths of all of them— Tomed’s crew and the special ops team. But even if Harriman could find the justification to take such an action—and he did not know that he could—such an uncommon accident occurring within Romulan territory, after Tomed’s close contact with Enterprise,would rightly be construed by the Empire as an attack by Starfleet. In that circumstance, Ambassador Kamemor might well come forward to confirm what little she knew of the plan, and how she had been duped by Harriman. Again, the outcome would be war, with the Klingons siding against the Federation.

No. The only course of action he could take right now would be to attempt to complete the mission.

Harriman arrived at the hatch. He set his beacon down and reached for the tricorder hanging at his waist. Using the device to scan for life signs would reveal his position, but better to risk that than to open the hatch and find a disruptor pointed at his head; he would not be staying in this location anyway. He performed a sweep of the surrounding deck. No life signs registered.

He deactivated the tricorder and returned it to his waist, along with the beacon, exchanging them for his phaser. The hatch opened beneath a heavy push, and Harriman scrambled out of the conduit. As he dropped onto the deck, he ducked low, flattening himself against the near bulkhead. Despite what the tricorder had told him, he looked hurriedly from side to side, ensuring the absence of any Romulans here.

Although he saw and heard nobody, the corridor in which he found himself left him feeling vulnerable. It ended at a T-shaped intersection a short distance to his left, but it stretched a long way to his right—the direction he needed to travel. Perhaps seventy meters long, it crossed several other corridors and afforded few places for concealment; he glimpsed what appeared to be a couple of recesses along the way, but hatches, access panels, and equipment—rather than doors—lined the bulkheads. If he had not left here by the time the Romulans arrived to investigate his tricorder signal, he would probably not be able to hide from them.

He pushed the hatch closed and proceeded cautiously down the corridor. He stayed low, hugging tight to the bulkhead, his phaser raised before him. As he approached the first intersection, he paused, choosing not to scan again, but listening intently. He heard nothing but the rhythms of Tomed’s warp drive.

Just as he started forward again, though, a sound reached him, like a foot shuffling along a deck, or a shoulder brushing against a bulkhead. Harriman froze, then aimed his phaser toward the intersection, toward the corner nearest him. He waited…one second…two…and then a Romulan emerged from the cross-corridor, a disruptor in his hand.

Harriman’s arm tensed, even as the inconsistency struck him. Only a moment ago, his sensor scans of the area had detected no life signs. And as the Romulan glanced in his direction and spotted him, Harriman hesitated.

“Vaughn,” he said in a hushed tone resembling a stage whisper, just loud enough to be heard above the background hum of the warp engines. As Harriman lowered his weapon, it occurred to him that the lieutenant no longer looked silly in his Romulan masquerade, but threatening. He had no idea how he’d managed to avoid firing on Vaughn.

“Captain,” the lieutenant said, trotting over, his sensor veil obviously still functioning. “I’m on my way to the shuttlebay.” Harriman nodded. He knew that had been the plan, of course, but the statement confirmed for him that nothing had happened to prevent Vaughn from undertaking his tasks there. “The access ladder to the next deck is this way,” the lieutenant said, hiking a thumb back over his shoulder.

“I know. I’m headed past there,” Harriman said, glancing around to make sure that the corridor remained clear.

“We have to go now though. I just used my tricorder, so the Romulans will be here soon.”

“Yes, sir,” Vaughn said.

Harriman began down the corridor again, and Vaughn fell in alongside him. When they reached the first intersection, they peered carefully around the corners. “Take cover here,” Harriman told Vaughn. “If we encounter Romulans now—” He motioned down the long corridor that lay in front of them. “—I don’t want both of us at risk.” No matter what happened, at least one of the special ops team needed to survive and remain free long enough to complete the mission.