As she came to General Tavor's door, she took a deep breath, then quickly entered, using the passkey attached to her belt. Once inside the room, she found the handsome young man lounging comfortably in a plush chair behind the carved wood desk. Ornate tapestries hung from ceiling to floor, and the thick maroon carpet sank pleasantly beneath Thea's feet as she crossed the room. In one corner of the room, a divan made of overstuffed black velvet sat before a gently burning fireplace. She looked away.

"Tavor," Thea said, inclining her head gently and taking a moment to appreciate the heavy musculature of her general. "The journey was tedious; and I am grateful to be home in the palace again." She smiled, going to the desk and pouring a glass of vintage ale. As she looked at Tavor, her eyes grew lighter. "I have missed you, my old friend," she murmured. "But … tell me … what has happened to T'Rouln?"

Leaning back in the chair, Tavor did not return the Praetor's smile. Instead, he propped booted feet on the corner of the desk, then reached up to unfasten the frog-closure of the thick brown cape. It fell to the floor unnoticed as the deep brown eyes went dark.

"Governor T'Rouln was once a friend, my Lady," Tavor replied, a hint of regret hiding behind the efficient tone. "We played together as children." He paused. "Yet the man who attempted to storm the palace gates bore no resemblance to the Warrior I once knew."

Taking a sip of the blue ale, Thea slid into a nearby chair, curling one leg underneath the other. "I regret his death, Tavor," she murmured, staring absently at the light reflecting from the general's shoulder-length black hair. "Yet … it seems that he was indeed … mad?"

Tavor nodded gently. "Perhaps," he conceded. "But there have been other incidents as well." He paused, expression shifting to one of suspicion. "As of this afternoon, I received word of several similar incidents throughout the Empire. On Kalora Six, riots broke out when Governor S'Limou single-handedly authorized the release of several political prisoners." His tone darkened. "As with T'Rouln, there was no explanation for this unauthorized action." A sigh parted thin Romulan lips. "There are others, my friend … too numerous to mention."

Thea set the ale aside; Tavor so rarely expressed emotion, yet the weariness seemed to emanate from the powerful frame and disciplined mind. "What else?" she asked, feeling a sudden chill slide up her back as she remembered something she'd sensed in Spock's mind during the initial link.

Insanity … two weeks to build a universe … or see one die. . . .

At first she'd tried to pass it off as another symptom of the pon farr—theVulcan's owninsanity, his own deadline. But as she recalled the transmission which had been intercepted from the ShiKahrseveral days before, her eyes widened. Her own words to Sarela came back to her. I had the impression that their vessel was somehow… lured into the Canusian system under false pretense. Odd…

She held back the sudden fear which came with the realization of the coincidence. "You said there were other incidents, Tavor," she prompted.

"Indeed," the general replied. "I was … forced to kill four of my own soldiers this afternoon, my Lady," he said very quietly. "While I was performing the routine inspection of the troups in preparation for your return, one man attempted to assassinate my chief lieutenant. A fight broke out … and four men were left dead." He shook his head. "According to our medical advisers, autopsy showed symptoms of massive disruptions in the cerebral cortex—as if the brain of each man had been somehow … shorted out." He hesitated for a moment. "And while I have not yet received medical information on Governor T'Rouln, I suspect the findings will be the same."

Thea rose from her chair, heading automatically toward the door. But before leaving, the turned to face Tavor once again, her eyes softening. "I shall question the Vulcan further," she explained. "Perhaps he knows something of value."

But Tavor merely stared at the Praetor as he rose and went to stand close at her side. "He … intrigues you, doesn't he, Thea?" he asked.

For a long moment, the woman did not respond. "He is a tool, my old friend," she said at last, finding herself unable to meet the questioning dark eyes.

"But he doesstir your blood," Tavor surmised without accusation.

Biting the inside of her lip, Thea reached out, touching the young man gently on the arm. At last, she looked up, then quickly glanced away. "Yes," she whispered, wondering why she should feel so utterly guilty because of that confession. "And for that I amsorry." She paused, wrestling with unfamiliar feelings. "If I once believed I could divorce myself from his … hold on me … I was a fool, Tavor." She looked up once again, then reached out to caress the expectant features. But as the general turned away, her hand fell slowly back to her side.

"I will wait, my Lady," he murmured. "And I will protect your chosen companion with the same fervor I have reserved for you."

For a moment, Thea merely stared at the man's back, then reached out once again, turning him to face her. At one time, she had respected Tavor as a cunning Warrior. At another time, she had loved him. But as she opened her mouth to respond, she found nothing to say, nothing to eradicate the sudden pain which rose in her own mind. Very gently, she ran one hand down the length of the general's neck.

"If it will make this any easier for either of us, my friend," she said softly, "you may rest assured that the Vulcan's feelings for me do not exist as you may imagine them. And … as with any living creature, I do not expect I shall be able to dwell long within a void of aloneness." She felt her face darken with a combination of shame and regret. "I … would be honored … to know that you will wait."

Tavor took a deep breath, then nodded. "Time grows short, my Lady," he said, his tone returning to that of the professional adviser. "The remaining governors will soon be arriving at the palace gates."

With a tender smile, Thea nodded … and forced herself to turn away from the dark eyes which wanted her.

Once inside the Praetor's lavish living quarters, Spock found himself contemplating the evening ahead. He glanced at the ornate clock: less than four hours until the Tribunal. But as his eyes scanned the room, he permitted himself a moment to relax. In many ways, Thea's private sector of the palace was much the same as the House of Sarek.

Black velvet curtains completely covered one wall; and then opened, the Vulcan discovered a tremendous plate glass window which overlooked a small pond. On the horizon, the blue sun of Romulus was setting, casting long shadows across the room. Against one wall, an elaborate desk made of solid silver faced into the spacious living area; an overstuffed sofa of blue velvet rested in the center of the room; and various marble statues representing the Ancient Ones of Romulus were stationed like sentinels by the carved wooden doors. Through another exit, closer to the back of the living area, was the bedroom.

But as he sat on the sofa, considering his own predicament and pondering the fact that less than eight days remained, he knew instinctively that he was alone within himself. S'Parva and McCoy had been quickly ushered to separate quarters—through a long maze of corridors and passageways which would be impossible to retrace; and Thea had made it clear that they would not be reunited until after the Tribunal meeting.