“I bear an offer from the Federation Council,” the operative said.

Though the cavern’s illumination remained dim, the operative could see Spock’s right eyebrow rise. “And the nature of that offer?”

“The council has decided to give its official endorsement to your agenda of Vulcan-Romulan unification. But both the council and the new president will want you to return to Earth to make a formal report first.”

Spock brought their walk to an abrupt halt. His dark eyes flashed with an almost fanatical intensity. The operative wondered what so many years living among Vulcan’s hyperemotional cousins had done to the ambassador’s emotional disciplines. Had he “gone native”?

“My work is here,” Spock said.

The operative raised a hand in a placating gesture. “You would be returned here, Mr. Ambassador, to resume that work as quickly as possible. After you’ve addressed both the council and the president’s office on your progress.”

Spock turned his gaze downward and stared into the middle distance, a deliberative expression on his face. “I see,” he said after a pause. “To avail myself of an Earth idiom, the council evidently wishes me to ‘come in from the cold.’ ”

Thanks to nearly a century of at least intermittent association with humans, the operative was conversant with the idiom Spock had used. “Yes, Mr. Ambassador. And the council will almost certainly place Federation resources at your disposal, at least covertly.”

Spock paused again before responding. “Indeed. That would be a significant change in Federation policy.”

“We live in changing times, Mr. Ambassador.”

“Unquestionably. President Zife’s sudden resignation is but one sign.” Spock clasped his hands before him, steepling his index fingers. “I cannot help but wonder whether the council’s offer is related to Zife’s abrupt departure.”

The operative was impressed by Spock’s knowledge of the political landscape beyond the Romulan Neutral Zone, though he knew it shouldn’t have surprised him; he reminded himself that the ambassador had made more than one brief return to Earth since beginning his work on Romulus.

“I’m afraid all I know about that is what’s been on the newsnets,” the operative said truthfully.

Spock nodded, his expression grave. The operative had no doubt that the ambassador was well acquainted with those same reports.

Sensing that the ambassador still required some additional persuasion, the operative said, “I will need to rendezvous with my transport this evening. If you will agree to accompany me, we can have you back in Federation space within days.”

Something resembling a half-smile crossed Spock’s face. “I trust, Rukath, that you aren’t prepared to use force to return me to Earth.”

The operative gestured toward D’Tan, whom he knew still stood—disruptor in hand—only a short distance behind him. “I am obviously in no position to force you to do anything, Mr. Ambassador. I had hoped you would agree to come to Earth voluntarily.”

Spock very slowly shook his head. “I am pleased that the council has finally come to understand the necessity of the cause of reunification. But I cannot afford to abandon my work on Romulus, even temporarily. Especially now, while tensions between the Romulan Senate and one of the key Reman military factions continue to escalate.”

The operative recalled yesterday’s update about this very subject in his daily intelligence briefing. The mysterious Shinzon, the Reman faction’s young leader, had led a number of successful military engagements against Dominion forces during the war. His sudden prominence in Romulan politics could cause unpredictable swings in the delicate balance of power within a senate now evenly divided on issues of war and peace.

“You wouldn’t be away from Romulus for very long, sir,” the operative said quietly.

“The local political landscape is far too volatile for me to leave now. In addition to the unpredictability of the Reman faction, there are rumors of unrest on Kevatras and other Romulan vassal worlds. I dare not leave Romulus now, even for a short time.”

The operative decided that the time had come to risk goading the ambassador into cooperating. “Has your unification movement progressed so little over the past decade that you remain completely indispensable to it even now?”

But clearly Spock wasn’t taking the bait. Sidestepping the question, he said, “I must also consider two other possibilities. One is that you actually area Tal Shiar agent. The other is that the Federation Council’s agenda is not truly as you have described it.”

Despite this disappointing response, the operative still wasn’t ready to accept failure. Taking a single step closer to Spock, he said, “Then I offer you access to my mind. I invite you to know what I know.”

Spock’s right eyebrow climbed skyward yet again. Then, after casting a reproving glance in D’Tan’s general direction, the ambassador approached the operative. The operative closed his eyes, felt the steady, relentless pressure of the ambassador’s fingers against his temples. Vibrant colors and orderly shapes began placing themselves in elegant arrangements across his mind’s eye. It was a tantalizing glimpse into an extraordinarily powerful and well-organized mind.

And then it came: a frissonof recognition. After all these years, hedoes remember me.

“I believe you,” Spock said, a moment after withdrawing his hand and breaking the mind-touch.

The operative’s eyes opened, and he blinked away a momentary feeling of disorientation as the ambassador stepped away from him. “Then come with me back to the Federation.”

Another shake of Spock’s head. “I regret that I cannot.”

“But you said you believed me.”

“My faith in your sincerity is not the issue.”

“Then what isthe issue, other than Romulan politics?”

Spock’s gaze narrowed as though he were beginning to lose patience with a willfully obtuse child. “Federationpolitics.”

It was the operative’s turn to raise an eyebrow in surprise. “I don’t understand, Mr. Ambassador.”

“The Federation president has just resigned. One of the two contenders to replace him can be charitably described as a political reactionary who wishes to adopt an aggressive posture toward former Dominion War allies. I find it difficult to believe that such a president would support the Unification movement on Romulus.”

The operative needed no further explanation: Spock was clearly talking about Special Emissary Arafel Pagro of Ktar. And given candidate Pagro’s already well-publicized anti-Klingon predilections, it was a safe assumption that he wouldn’t support any peace initiatives on Romulus.

“The results of the special election are not yet completely tabulated,” the operative said. “Governor Bacco of Cestus III may yet emerge as the winner.”

Spock nodded. “In that event, I will consider returning to Earth for a brief meeting with President Bacco and the council. Provided, of course, that Romulan-Reman affairs permit it.”

At a wordless signal from the ambassador, D’Tan and the rest of Spock’s retinue surrounded their leader. “Live long and prosper,” Spock said, holding his right hand aloft in the traditional split-fingered Vulcan salute.

“Peace and long life,” the operative replied, using his left hand to mirror Spock’s ritual gesture.

Then the group spirited the ambassador away, vanishing with him around a darkened turning of the rough-hewn cavern walls.

The operative stood alone in the dim, rocky chamber, listening to the distant echoes of dripping water and his own frustrated sigh. Moving silently, he retraced his steps, recovered his disruptor from where D’Tan had forced him to discard it, and began his lonely ascent back to the cobbled streets of the ira’sihaer,Ki Baratan’s ancient casbah.