Prologue

“Our greatest glory is not in never falling but in rising every time we fall.�
- Confucius

April 2374

CargoBay Four
Deep Space Nine

It starts like this.

A man wakes up in a cargo bay. He is tied to a chair, his head lolling down against his chest. He is handsome, his dark hair cropped close on the top of his head, his cheeks clean shaven and still a little boyish. The green sweater he wears beneath the black and grey uniform jacket shows he is a doctor.

He comes to and looks around. It takes him a moment to get his bearings, to remember what happened – the argument, the blow to the head. And now he is here. Tied up. Helpless.

This is how it starts.

XXX

Doctor Julian Bashir groaned. Unable to reach his comm badge, he tried to activate the internal communication’s system.

“Computer!� Nothing happened. Shaking his head to clear the last traces of his headache, he tried again. “Computer, respond!�

He waited another beat, but there was still no answer. He lifted his head fully, glancing around the room again. For a moment, he imagined he saw Sarina sat in a chair opposite him, staring at him silently. An echo of a whisper of a dream. Then it was gone and he was alone.

Bashir groaned again. Pulling on his bonds, he tried to detach himself. Normally, his genetically enhanced strength should have allowed him to find some way of breaking them, but he had forgotten who he was dealing with. Jack knew exactly what to do to keep him in place. Allowing his head to fall back, he spoke to the Gods, to the Prophets, to the Fates.

“Jack, what have you done?�

No one answered.

StorageBay
Deck 7

Damar fidgeted.

Standing next to Weyoun in the storage bay, hiding amongst the crates and containers, he wondered how his life had led him here. Two years before, he had been Glinn Damar, serving as Gul Dukat’s right hand man aboard a Klingon Bird-of-Prey. Now he was the leader of the Cardassian Union, the man who had to play a game with the devil and try not to get burned. He shook his head. He never wanted this. Not any of it.

The sound of footsteps approaching along the corridor outside caused both of them to freeze, almost holding their breath as they waited to see if it was their contact. Or Starfleet Security. Slowly, the noise faded, and Damar began to fidget again.

After a few more moments, he couldn’t take it anymore. “Where are they?�

Weyoun glanced at him with those disconcerting violet eyes. “Calm down, Damar. They’ll be here.�

Damar glowered at him, but he stopped talking, stewing silently. For about a minute.

“This is ridiculous!� he burst out finally. “Sneaking into a storage bay for a secret meeting - - I’m not some agent of the Obsidian Order, I’m the leader of the Cardassian Empire!�

The damned Vorta sneered. He actually sneered. “Don’t let it got to your head.� He looked away, that self-satisfied smile back on his face. “You serve at the Dominion’s pleasure.�

I certainly don’t serve at mine, he thought, bristling, but not daring to say it aloud. At the end of the day, Weyoun was right. The Vorta and his shape-shifting mistress had cast Dukat aside faster than a Cardassian vole cast aside her young. He had no illusions that they would do the same to him if he gave them reason. At least while he remained in the position, he could do some good for the Cardassian people.

He turned back to see Weyoun was smiling. “Besides, I think it’s exciting.�

Damar rolled his eyes safely behind the Vorta’s back. The man was a fool. If it hadn’t been for Weyoun, Dukat would have kept his grip on Terok Nor, Damar was sure of it. Instead, the Dominion was on the back foot for the first time since the war began, and they were tightening their grip around Cardassia. If things didn’t change soon…

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening nearby. Footsteps approached their position. Damar couldn’t help tensing slightly, though whether in fear or anticipation, even he didn’t know.

“They’re here.�

Both men stepped out from their hiding place. Damar saw who was there and he almost laughed.

Four humans stood in the walkway between piles of containers. A male stood out in front, grinning wildly, his moustache the only distinguishing feature on his face. He waved a PADD around, brandishing it like a martial stick. Behind him stood another man, rotund but nervous, wringing his hands and glancing every which way as if he expected an attack to come at any moment. Two women stood on either side of him – one a frail blond with a vacant expression, the other a dark-haired, voluptuous siren who gazed at Damar with barely disguised interest.

“Interesting,� Weyoun said.

The moustached man stopped smiling. He glanced downwards, biting his nail. “Interesting? Interesting he said. Why does he think it’s interesting? Its not interesting, it’s an opportunity. An opportunity!�

Damar held back a sigh. Wonderful. They had been contacted by a group of insane humans. “Who are they?�

Weyoun’s eyes remained fixed on the group. “I have no idea.�

The dark-haired female pushed past the two men, approaching Damar with a slinky, sensuous swivel of her hips. One finger tapped her lower lip, her breasts thrust out. “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, handsome.�

Damar snorted and turned to Weyoun. “This is a waste of…�

“No!� The moustached man shouted. He pushed the woman back, putting himself back in the prominent position. “Not a waste. A waste would be all of those lives lost. That’s what we have to stop. Yes, yes, that’s it.�

“You are the one who contacted us?�

Again, he looked down to the side. “Call themselves genetically engineered? Not smart enough, no no, not smart enough.� He looked back at Weyoun as if the Vorta hadn’t heard him. “Of course I am! Who were you expecting? Constable Odo, hm, hm?� He laughed, a shrill sound that set Damar’s teeth on edge.

He’d had enough of this. “I’m leaving.�

Weyoun held up a hand, striking Damar lightly on the chest. As much as he hated doing it, he stopped.

“You said you had information that could be very beneficial to us.�

The moustached man waved the PADD at the Vorta.

“Yes, yes. Information, hm, hm? Information to help you stop the war.�

Damar felt an uneasy feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. “It’s a trap,� he hissed, turning to Weyoun. “It has to be. Sisko, setting us up.�

“Perhaps,� the Vorta drawled. “Still. It can’t hurt to take a look.�

He took a step forward, putting his hand out. The moustached man hesitated for a moment, then he lay the PADD in the Vorta’s hand. Weyoun lifted it, glancing at the scrolling text. Damar saw his eyes thin, then he looked at the moustached man. Back at the PADD. Back at the human. Finally, he looked back at the PADD, his eyes widening.

“Weyoun…�

The Vorta ignored him, his pupils darting rapidly across the screen. He began to push buttons on the PADD, scrolling from a set of schematics to a series of numbers to what appeared to be a memorandum. Damar saw a rare smile appear on Weyoun’s face.

“Damar, I think this man has just handed us the Alpha Quadrant.�

Damar frowned. The Vorta’s smile widened and he handed the PADD over. Damar began to read, his heart beating faster as he realised what he held in his hand. Minutes later, he looked up at the Vorta.

“Is this…�

“Battle plans. Ships schematics. Fleet deployments. Shield frequency codes and classified weapon schematics. Everything we need to see the Dominion victorious.�

Damar stared at the Vorta for a long moment. With this… With this information, the Alpha Quadrant would be in their hands in a matter of years. Months even.

He looked at the moustached man to see him nodding along manically. And, slowly, Damar began to laugh.

Ops

Captain Benjamin Sisko strode out of his office and out into the Cardassian monstrosity that was Ops.

“What is it old man?� he asked, replying to the hail that had pulled him from behind his desk. Jadzia Dax looked up at him, a frown on her face.

“Captain, Weyoun and Damar have just beamed aboard their vessel. It is pulling away from the station.�

Sisko surveyed Ops with an experienced eye. Commander Worf stood behind the tactical station, Kira at his elbow probably studying the readouts from the departing Dominion ship. All the other stations were manned, everyone calmly carrying out their tasks. Odo stood down in the lower portion of the command centre. Sisko walked over to Jadzia’s science station.

“What is going on?�

“I don’t know but…� She turned to look up at him, confusion and a little fear wavering in her eyes. “I’m picking up four human lifesigns aboard.� She looked back at her console, hesitating for a moment. “I think… I think it’s Jack and his friends.�

Sisko didn’t hesitate, reaching up to tap his combadge. “Sisko to Bashir.�

He waited a moment, but there was no response. He tapped the badge again.

“Sisko to Cargo Bay Four.�

There was still no response. Sisko turned and nodded to Odo. The constable inclined his head slightly and headed for the turbolift.

“On my way,� he called over his shoulder.

As Odo vanished down the turbolift tube, Sisko glanced at his old friend. “What the hell is going on?�

Cargo Bay Four

Julian stopped struggling against his bonds as the doors to the cargo bay opened. When he saw Odo rush in, he felt a surge of relief. They must have found Jack. He must have told them where…

His hopes vanished as four Bajoran militia officers rushed in behind the constable, fanning out around the room. Their phasers were at the ready, covering every angle of the cargo bay. They were obviously looking for Jack and the others.

“Tell me you caught Jack,� Bashir asked, hoping against hope, as Odo moved over behind him and began to untie the ropes that held him in place.

Odo finished untying his bonds and stepped round in front of him, shaking his head. “Sorry Doctor. But don’t worry, I’m sure the Dominion won’t hurt them.�

Bashir surged to his feet, rubbing at his wrists. “No, you don’t understand. Jack… He stole the PADD with the classified information Starfleet Intelligence provided us. He has battle plans, fleet deployments, planetary defence codes… He has everything the Dominion need to win the war.�

Even Odo’s normally expressionless face took on a fearful cast. “If that ship reaches Dominion space…�

Bashir nodded. “We’re done for.�

XXX

This is how it ends. Two men stood in an empty cargo bay, picturing the years that are yet to come. The blood and the death. The pain and the screams. The fire and the fall.

This is how it ends.

This is how it starts.

This is how we fell.

Chapter 1

Acting Station Commander’s Log, Stardate 51471.3. Things on Deep Space Nine have settled back into a semblance of normality after the dramatic events of the past few months. While Captain Sisko remains in a comatose state, Doctor Laurence claims that his life signs remain strong. His brainwaves seem to match those found when he received a vision from the Prophets a year ago, though this time they do not seem to be putting his life at risk. I hope that if the Emissary is receiving a vision from the Prophets, they are giving him guidance through these dark times.

In his continued absence, Starfleet have assigned us a new commanding officer who should be arriving aboard the Crazy Horse in the next few hours. I am not looking forward to greeting her – receiving a new commander seems too much like a betrayal of Captain Sisko.

The latest reports from the front seem to show a slight lull in the fighting, despite the fall of Suliban two days ago. Federation space remains split in two, with the only communication between the two coming from the MIDAS Array. I wonder how long this can last before the Dominion cut off even that route…

Major Kira Nerys stood to attention as the door cycled open.

The starship Crazy Horse had arrived right on schedule, entering Bajoran space fifteen minutes before. As acting station commander, she had had no choice but to come up and greet the new commanding officer personally, despite the fact that it was the last thing she wanted to do. Worf had offered to accompany her, but she had refused, preferring to handle the introductions personally.

The door finished opening, revealing a tall Bajoran woman in a purple, black and grey Starfleet uniform. Her long black hair wrapped around her neck and tumbled down over her shoulder in one tight ponytail. Although she didn’t want to, Kira couldn’t help but notice the lack of an earring on her right ear. Keeping her eyes fixed forward, she stepped forward, forcing a smile.

“Captain Naral. Welcome to Deep Space Nine. I’m - -“

“Yes, I know who you are Major Kira,� Naral said coldly, stepping down from the airlock.

Kira was taken aback but she forced the smile to remain on her face as Naral looked her over. Finally, the Bajoran captain spoke.

“Well?�

Frowning, Kira shook her head. “Well, what? Sir?�

“Aren’t you going to ask about the earring?�

Kira was shocked. Every Bajoran’s earring was a personal item, as individualised as their genetic code, or their fingerprint. A symbol of their faith in the Prophets. Kira would never dare ask another Bajoran about the presence or absence of their earring – it would be like asking a Klingon whether they believed in Kahless.

Kira didn’t know what to say. So she just stood there and waited. Finally, Naral nodded.

“Good. Now. Take me to Ops.�

The woman stepped past her, took a few steps down the corridor, then turned back, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Kira snapped into motion, reducing the space between them in a few short strides, then took the lead. As she led Captain Naral down the corridor to the nearest turbolift, Kira wondered what Starfleet had saddled them with now. And more importantly, why the woman seemed to hate her.

xxx

The bar formerly known as Quark’s now bore the name Tristan’s Entertainment Palace. Little inside had changed – a few extra pieces of décor, a human casino table for poker and blackjack instead of one of the dabo tables, and of course a mostly human and Orion work staff instead of Ferengi. Despite everything that changed, most things stayed the same.

For the most part.

Doctor Julian Bashir downed the glass of Saurian brandy, then slammed the glass down on the bar.

“Waitress! Another!�

The attractive human woman behind the bar winced. Bashir wondered whether she needed medical attention. He studied her, then leered. He’d give her a check-up. A very rigorous one. As he thought that, a flicker of memory tickled the back of his mind. Actually, maybe he already had.

He focused on her again long enough to realise she was shaking her head. It took him a moment to make sense of the gesture. He frowned.

“Another!� he repeated. She winced again.

"I'm sorry doctor. I'm not allowed. Mister Tristan's orders."

Again, Bashir took a moment to make sense of what the girl was saying. When he did, though, he roared.

"What? What do you mean you're not allowed? I'm a paying customer, aren't I? Of course I am. You know that, I know that, we all know that. So get me a drink, fine woman, fine woman, get me a drink before I go mad."

He giggled. He'd heard that before, though he couldn't remember where. Funny how that worked.

A hand fell on his shoulder. He turned round and squinted up at another beautiful woman. He smiled.

“Jadzia! How are you?�

“What are you doing, Julian?�

He frowned. He didn’t like her tone of voice. He was about to tell her so when she sat down and spun his chair to face her.

“You were supposed to be in Ops this morning. The new commander arrived. She asked after you. I explained that you were busy with some research, but you are going to have to meet with her eventually. If you do so in this state...�

Through the fog that hung in his mind, he vaguely remembered what she was talking about. Somehow, though, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“I was busy,� he said. He didn’t feel much like laughing anymore. He tried to turn the chair back around and get another drink, but Jadzia kept a firm hold.

“What is wrong with you, Julian? This isn’t like you. At least it didn’t used to be.�

“Leave me alone,� he said, waving her away. His hand hit the glass, sending it crashing to the floor. “Oops.�

He laughed again, then stopped as a firm hand settled on his shoulder. He looked up to see a huge Orion, his chest visible beneath a leather waistcoat, glaring down at him.

“I hope you’re going to pay for that, doctor.�

Jadzia stood up and walked over. “He will, Tristan. Don’t worry. I’ll just take him home.�

“I don’t want to go home,� Julian said. “I want another drink.�

“You’ve had your lot, doctor. Why don’t you let the nice lady take you back to your quarters?�

There was just enough menace in Tristan’s voice to get through to Julian. The doctor hesitated for a moment, then he stood up. “Fine. See if I care.�

Turning, he flounced off towards the door, Jadzia hurrying to keep up.

xxx

Captain Lin Naral followed Commander Worf through the doors and into her quarters. She took a quick look around and set down her carry bag.

"This will be fine. Thank you, Commander."

"You are welcome, Captain."

The gruff Klingon nodded and then headed back to the door. It hissed open, revealing the drab corridor outside. Drab like everything onboard this station. Why couldn't the Cardassians have just burned it before they left like they did everything-

She realised that the Commander was still stood in the doorway. She cleared her throat.

"Is there anything the matter, Commander?"

Worf seemed to hesitate and then he turned back around to face her. "I could not help but notice a... tension between you and Major Kira during the briefing earlier, Captain. I wondered if perhaps there had been some kind of misunderstanding."

"No misunderstanding, Commander. I prefer to keep my distance from the natives while I am here on station."

Worf's eyes widened. "The... natives, Captain?"

Naral sighed. "I know that my personnel file may say Bajoran under nationality, Commander, but my parents fled Bajor the moment the Cardassians started to turn their eyes in our direction. I was brought up on Alpha Centauri. I do not consider myself Bajoran, and I certainly do not subscribe to their superstitions."

"Captain, I assure you-"

Naral waved her hand, cutting the commander off. "I do not want to hear it, Commander. I know that Captain Sisko ran things slightly differently and I know that he not only subscribed to the general psychosis the Bajorans seem to have regarding the Prophets but that he actually engaged with it. I have no intention of doing the same thing. I am here as a Starfleet officer, to run this station in the way that Starfleet would want me to under the rules and regulations of the service. I will of course work with Major Kira, or any other representative the Bajoran government sees fit to appoint, but that does not mean I have any intention of having some kind of homecoming. I am here to do a job, end of story."

Naral realised that she had said a little more than she had intended to, but it was important that her officers understand why she was here. She had been shocked when she read the duty reports of the last few years - kidnapped officers, aiding and abetting the presence of a hostile amongst the security staff, and the debacle with the augments were just at the top of a long list of cock-ups she had seen. As far as she was concerned, though, all of that stopped the moment she set foot on the station.

Worf seemed taken aback, but she knew from his file that he was a good officer. As she had expected, after a while he nodded.

"Very well, captain. I hope the quarters will meet your standards."

With that, he turned and left.

Naral waited a few minutes until she was sure he was gone before turning back to the quarters that had been assigned to her. Captain Sisko's son still lived in the main cabin that had been set aside for the station commander and she had no intention of demanding he vacate them. Yet.

Leaving her bag where it was, Naral walked over to the nearest comm unit. Bringing up the menu, she keyed in a long code she had memorised before leaving Earth. Minutes later, the screen went blank, activating an old Cardassian program that Starfleet Intelligence had located when the Federation first took control of DS9. Once she was in, it took only a moment to key in the correct transponder code.

The screen flashed white once, twice, and then cleared to reveal a thin faced man with sallow cheeks and short graying hair. He did not smile when he saw Naral, but there was a flash of recognition and acknowledgment in his blue eyes.

"I assume you are on station?"

Naral nodded. "Yes."

"Have you seen him?"

"Not yet. He failed to show for the introductory briefing."

"To be expected." Director Luther Sloan allowed himself a rare smile. "From everything we have heard, the good doctor may need some prepping before he is ready to join us."

Chapter 2

Captain's Log, Stardate 51383.35.

The Enterprise has arrived safely at Starbase 7. We have put in for repairs following our encounter with the Dominion in the Briar Patch. Although I had hoped to make the most of this time to regroup and spend some time with my senior staff, I have been informed that Admiral Paris is on station waiting to speak with me. I find myself more worried than I should be as to why exactly he wishes to see me.

With a familiar hum and sparkle of light, the transporter deposited Admiral Paris on the pad. Captain Jean-Luc Picard hesitated a moment before he stepped forward, hand extended, to welcome the Admiral on board. He covered the awkward moment with a grim smile.

"Admiral."

"Jean-Luc. I would say it is good to see you, but I doubt you would believe me."

Picard held his smile, unwilling to reply either way to the man's opening gambit. Paris sighed.

"I'm sure I will receive your report in due time, but I would like you to tell me yourself what happened out there."

"Of course, Admiral. Shall we go to my ready room?"

"After you."

Nodding to the young crewman behind the transporter controls, Picard led Paris out into the corridors. They passed a number of crew members, every single one of them sporting a phaser on their belt. When exactly did we go from being explorers to a military vessel? Picard wondered. Sometime around the time Minos Korva fell, I suppose.

"How much do you know about our mission to the Patch?"

"Just what was in the standard briefing."

Picard nodded. "Admiral Nechayev asked us to attempt to retake the planet Baku along with a Son'a battle group who had escaped the occupation of their homeworld. It was supposed to be a first step in gaining a foothold back in that sector and a way of halting the Dominion advance. Perhaps even of reconnecting the two halves of the Federation."

They reached the turbolift and stepped on. Alone, without the eyes of his crew on him, Picard allowed his shoulders to slump a little.

"Unfortunately, we found ourselves in the middle of an internecine battle. The Son'a fooled us, failing to reveal that they were actually members of the Baku race, exiled long ago. They used us to get access to the Patch and then they turned on us." Picard swallowed, memories of screaming children and burning houses flickering through his mind's eye. "When we tried to stop them, they betrayed us to the Dominion forces."

Paris stood silent, apparently unable to think of anything to add to Picard's tale. When he finally spoke, his voice shook. "How did you get away?"

"My first officer. He found a way of using the strange particles within the Briar Patch, venting the gases and igniting them. He destroyed three Son'a ships and a Dominion battlecruiser. In the confusion, we were able to get away." Abandoning the Baku to their fate. Picard refused to share that last thought with the Admiral.

The turbolift slowed, the doors opening as they reached the bridge. A Trill security officer barked "Captain on the bridge," then glanced past him at Paris and added, "Admiral on the bridge."

Backs straightened and Picard saw his new flight controller, Lieutenant Kell Perim, glance surreptitiously behind her at the turbolift. When she saw him looking, she quickly looked back at her display, though while they were at station keeping with Starbase 7 there was little for her to do.

"At ease," Admiral Paris said, smiling genially at the various officers.

Will Riker, Picard's first officer, stood from his place in the captain's chair and walked up onto the top part of the bridge to greet the Admiral.

"Will, good to see you."

"And you Admiral."

"I hear we have you to thank for Enterprise's escape from the Briar Patch."

"Just following in Captain Picard's footsteps, sir."

"Well, you did good. I'm sure your father is proud of you."

Picard saw Riker's face fall slightly and sensed a tension in Paris, as well. He knew that the Admiral's own son had been a bit of a misfit in Starfleet, ending up in a penal colony back on Earth for engaging with the Maquis. He also knew that that same son was now missing in action aboard the USS Voyager and that Paris had not heard from him in 3 years.

"I'm sure he is," Riker said stiffly. "If you would excuse me..."

"Yes, of course," Picard replied, leading the admiral down to the main section of the bridge and across to his ready room. The two men slipped inside and Picard waited for Admiral Paris to sit on the more comfortable sofa in the corner of the room before sitting himself.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm really here," Paris asked after Picard had settled.

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"To be honest, Jean-Luc, the last thing I want to do at the moment is go gallivanting across the galaxy. The Dominion are pushing us, hard. That information they got from Deep Space 9 has thrown our projections back by years. We have no idea how long it might take us to stop the Dominion and what kind of losses we can expect to suffer in the meantime."

Picard noted that Paris had not mentioned the possibility that they would not stop the Dominion. Though usually a positive man, even he had to admit, if only to himself, that the possibility seemed more and more worth mentioning.

"One thing is certain - we can't go on like this anymore. Something has to give and Starfleet believes that they may have found the thing."

"Two days ago, we received a coded transmission. It had been sent along an outdated frequency that only a few old hands in Command even know about. One of our buoys along the Romulan Neutral Zone picked it up."

"The Romulans?"

The Star Empire had signed a non-agression pact with the Dominion soon after war broke out and had severed most all communications with the Federation. Picard wondered what could have caused them to break that silence.

"Not the Romulans, per se," Paris admitted. "The communique seems to have originated with Ambassador Spock."

Spock. The name sent echoes racing through Picard's mind, shards of memory he had once shared with another man. Sarek's feelings for his son ran deep and Picard could not suppress a small sigh.

"The transmission was brief but to the point. The Romulans want to talk. Ambassador Spock believes they are sincere. He has asked that a Starfleet representative be sent to Romulus to discuss a possible entry of the Romulans into the war. On our side."

The thought warmed Picard somewhat. With the Star Empire on the Federation's side, they might actually have a chance. The Dominion would be forced to open up a new front, taking some of the pressure off the Federation and the Klingons. They might even be able to organise a concerted push back against the Jem'hadar for the first time since the beginning of the year. Still...

"I do not see how Starfleet hopes the Enterprise can make its way through enemy territory to-"

Paris shook his head. "Not the Enterprise, Jean-Luc. Just you and one of your crew, along with two hand-picked volunteers who will be responsible for getting you in and out of Romulan space. A covert mission to meet with the Romulans, find out how serious they are and if necessary negotiate on the Federation's behalf."

"That's a lot of pressure to put on one small team, Admiral."

"I know, Captain. Trust me, I do. But Starfleet Command feel - as do I - that if there is one man in Starfleet who can carry it out, it is you. Not only for your considerable skills as a diplomat, either. You know the Romulans, you have worked with and against them in countless situations. And you know Spock. You have infiltrated the Imperial homeworld before. You are the perfect man for the job."

"Starfleet needs you, Jean-Luc. Hell, the Federation needs you. This mission may be the most important one you ever carry out."

xxx

As he walked into the main briefing room, Commander William Riker thought back over all of the times he had stepped into this room or its equivalent aboard the previous iteration of the Enterprise. How many foes had these people he was with faced across this table? How many plans had they developed, missions had they thrashed out? The Klingons, the Romulans, the Borg... It had seemed at times as though as long as that team stuck together, nothing was impossible.

I guess the Dominion proved us wrong.

Still, Will couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and hope as he looked at the crew members gathered around the table. Captain Picard stood talking with Deanna Troi, showing her something on the padd. Deanna glanced up at Will and the two shared a knowing look before her eyes fell again. Will felt a thrill run down his spine at the sight of his Imzadi - although it had been many years since they had been a couple, recently he had begun to wish for a return to the way things used to be.

Turning his attention away, Will nodded to Beverly Crusher, the ship's CMO, just sitting down on the far side of the table next to the ship's Chief Engineer, Geordi La Forge. Geordi's blue eyes seemed to shine in the dim room, a constant reminder that the more things stayed the same, the more they changed.

A fact confirmed by the other people gathered there. Although Data held his usual position next to the Captain, the two other members of the senior staff were relatively new. Lieutenant Kell Perim had joined the crew of the Enterprise mere months before as an Ensign, one of a handful of new officers hoping to replace Sean Hawk after his death during their fight against the Borg above pre-First Contact Earth. The young Trill had proven herself in the early battles of the War and had quickly established herself as Captain Picard's favored replacement.

Another new addition to the crew sat where Worf would usually have sat. Will had to admit that Rhea McAdams did not immediately inspire the same confidence as the burly Klingon had - still the lithe young woman had proved to be quite a sparring partner the few times Will had come up against her in the gym. And her instincts in battle had proven vital in their face-off against the Son'a.

All in all, a good crew. One that Will was proud to call his own. He could not imagine a better ship to be serving on.

Sliding in to his place next to the Captain, he nodded to Deanna who sat down next to him. He could feel her tension through the empathic link they shared, but he could not discern exactly what had caused it. Raising an eyebrow, he received a single shake of her head in response. What was going on?

"Thank you all for giving up your time aboard the station to be here," Captain Picard said, starting the meeting. "I know that we were all hoping for a few days to recover before being sent back out, but unfortunately Starfleet Command has other ideas." He smiled, a wan expression that Will hated to see. We're all of us tired, but him more than any of us.

"Enterprise has been given new orders," the captain went on, pressing a finger to the table in front of him and activating the holo projector hidden beneath the surface. Immediately, a large space array floated into being, spinning slowly. Made up of a series of hexagonal pods, the array seemed to glower in the dim lighting. It looked familiar, though Will could not quite remember why.

"This is the MIDAS Array. It was put into service two years ago as a replacement for the Argus Array."

Will remembered a mission to repair a damaged telescope a few years before, when most of the people in the room had been serving about the Enterprise-E's predecessor. A vague recollection of damage caused by a probe niggled at the back of his mind.

"Although the original array was a purely scientific endeavor, this new iteration is also a long-range communication's array. Since the Dominion push a month ago, it is also the only way that the two halves of the Federation have to communicate. Starfleet Intelligence has intercepted communications indicating that the Dominion has decided to target the Array so as to hamper Starfleet's ability to coordinate our attacks along the separation zone. They have thus decided to send a small task force to protect the array."

"How small?" Will asked.

"Small. Three ships, led by the Enterprise. The other two ships are the USS Excalibur and the USS Intrepid, both of which are en route to our location as we speak."

Two other ships? Will could hardly believe it. He knew the Excalibur, had served as her commander for a brief period, and had a little knowledge of her captain, Calhoun. He knew much more about Calhoun's first officer, Commander Shelby, and allowed himself a tight smile at the thought of seeing her again. The Intrepid, though, was a mystery to him beyond her existence as the prototype of the ship class that bore her name. Regardless, he did not see how even a fleet of Sovereign-class cruisers could hope to hold off a Dominion assault against a single space array.

"With all due respect, sir, what the hell is Starfleet thinking?" Rhea McAdams seemed as incredulous as Riker felt. "There's no way such a small force can hope to hold the Array for any period of time."

"Starfleet is thinking that our lines are stretched taught and that three ships is all they can spare," the captain replied, allowing a hint of censure to enter his voice. If she heard it, McAdams did not seem to be afraid of it.

"I understand that, sir, but it seems to me that they're asking the impossible."

"Impossible is part of the job description, Lieutenant," Will cut in, reminding the tactical officer of her place.

"Yes, sir."

"Starfleet does understand what they are asking of you, people. However, they feel sure that if any task force can manage this mission, it is one led by the Enterprise."

"And having Captain Jean-Luc Picard along won't hurt," Beverly Crusher added, smiling to take some of the sting out of her jibe. To Will's surprise, the captain did not return the smile.

"That is the other reason why I called this mission. Starfleet has temporarily reassigned me. I will not be leading the mission to the Array."

"What?" Will was not sure how many of the senior officers asked the question, but he knew for sure that he was one of them. "Why?"

"Starfleet needs me for a... sensitive diplomatic mission, one that is vital for the survival of the Federation. They need me to travel to Romulus to negotiate with the Empire."

"The Romulans? Captain, the chances of the Romulans joining the war effort at this point are..."

"Thank you, Mister Data, but I don't require the odds. We have received word through a... mutual friend, that the Romulans are willing to enter negotiations. Starfleet feels strongly that this could be exactly what we need to turn the tide."

"If we could get the Romulans onboard, it would be a coup, captain, but... Surely there is someone else they could send."

"I'm afraid not. My prior knowledge of Romulus, as well as of our mutual friend, mean that I am the best placed to take on this mission."

"Sir, request permission to accompany you."

Will glared at McAdams, partly because the young woman was going to have to learn when to speak up and when to keep quiet, but mainly because he had been about to make the same request. Picard smiled indulgently at the tactical officer and shook his head.

"Unfortunately, this has to be a small mission if it is to have any chance of succeeding. A four person mission, to be precise. Starfleet has sent two infiltration specialists to assist myself and..."

Picard trailed off and looked over towards Will. For a moment, he thought that meant that he had been selected to accompany the captain. Then he felt something familiar brush against his mind.

Imzadi.

Will turned to Deanna, mouth already open to protest. When he saw the look on her face, though, he stopped himself. He held her gaze for a moment and then turned back face Picard.

"Starfleet has agreed to the one condition I placed on the mission. That is that you take over command of the Enterprise, Number One. You will be receiving a communique from Command confirming the promotion."

Promotion? Command never organised a real promotion under these kinds of circumstances unless... Unless they doubted whether Picard and Deanna would be coming home. Again, Will opened his mouth to protest, and again he shut it. This was not the time or the place. For now, he would hold his peace.

But the moment the briefing was complete, both the captain and his Imzadi were going to get a piece of his mind.

Chapter 3

Captain's Log, Stardate Stardate 51383.39. Voyager continues to make its way towards the Alpha Quadrant. In the aftermath of our encounter with the neurogenic field and the aliens who produced it, most of my crew have been suffering from insomnia and acute stress. I have heard reports of flare-ups between colleagues in various departments and have asked Commander Chakotay to handle the most volatile ones. I just hope that my senior staff will be able to get past their fatigue and show the proper example...

"I'm getting tired of playing referee every time you two have a disagreement. If you have a problem, talk to her yourself."

As he accompanied B'Elanna Torres down the almost empty corridor, Chakotay tried to rein in his irritation. He knew that they were all suffering from the aftereffects of the neurogenic field and the nightmares that the unidentified aliens had inflicted on them. Still, listening to B'Elanna complain about the same person first thing in the morning, every damned morning, was starting to become... exasperating.

"Does the word irrelevant mean anything to you?" B'Elanna snapped, smiling angrily. "She won't listen. She may look human, and she may sound human, but she's all Borg."

That was the last straw. Chakotay swung round and stopped in front of B'Elanna, breaking her in her stride. "Part of the problem is your attitude."

B'Elanna looked shocked, but Chakotay pressed on. The foundation of their relationship had always been that they could be honest with one another. Returning to Starfleet may have put a curb on some of the more volatile expressions of that honesty, but Chakotay believed that all of the Maquis retained a little of the gung-ho attitude they had picked up while in the rebellion. "You've never tried to accept Seven as part of the crew."

Chakotay's obvious irritation did not seem to quell the Klingon engineer. "And with good reason. Guess what she did this morning. She took an isolinear processor out of-"

Whatever Seven had done was lost to the chirp of Chakotay's communicator. He held up a hand. "Chakotay here."

"Seven of Nine." Speak of the devil. "Report to the Astrometrics lab at once."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. Chakotay ignored her. "On my way."

"Did you hear that? She's giving orders now. I'm telling you Chakotay, if she gets in my way again-"

"You will do nothing." He took a step closer to her. "You're a senior officer on this ship, B'Elanna. Start acting like one."

Without leaving her time to respond, he turned and strode back down the corridor towards the nearest turbolift. He just hoped that whatever Seven had found, it would be worth it.

xxx

Chakotay stepped into the astrometrics lab mere moments after Captain Kathryn Janeway. She turned her head slightly and acknowledged him before turning back to Seven-of-Nine.

"Your call sounded urgent."

"It was. I've been working to increase the range of the astrometric sensors, and I have detected something that you should find of particular interest."

The massive viewscreen changed to reveal a tiny object moving slowly across the starfield. As Seven zoomed in, Chakotay frowned.

"A ship. What's so special about it?" Something about the shape seemed familiar, although he couldn't quite...

"I've analysed the warp signature. It's a Starfleet vessel."

Chakotay felt himself take a step forward, feeling as though he had been punched in the gut. Janeway was a step ahead of him, though and from the look on her face she was looking into a living dream.

"The ship we're seeing is in the Alpha Quadrant."

"You couldn't have extended the astrometric sensors that far."

"No. But I increased them far enough to detect a large network of relay stations." Seven manipulated the station in front of her and the ship vanished, replaced moments later by a view of the Delta Quadrant, with a constellation of connected relays, creating a spider's web of connections across lightdecades of space.

"They're alien in origin, abandoned but still functioning. By establishing a sensor link with the nearest station I'm able to get readings from the entire network." The zoom increased a step further, centering on one of the relays, which began to flash in red. "The Starfleet ship is within range of one of the farthest sensors near the outer edges of the Alpha Quadrant."

Janeway stepped out from between Seven and Chakotay, making her way around until she stood in front of the astrometric's screen.

"It must be on a deep space mission." The captain's voice shook.

"I've extrapolated its course. It will move out of range in fifteen minutes."

"Can we use the network to transmit a message?"

"Yes, but only if we remodulate our signal to match the network's interlink frequency."

"We don't have much time." The captain sounded excited now. "Get it done Chakotay."

***

"When I requested more away missions, this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

The Doctor stared across the room at the vast screen that dominated the Astrometrics Lab. His mind was still whirling after being unceremoniously deactivated in sickbay and rushed down here by B'Elanna. The captain had quickly explained exactly what they needed from him. Apparently, they had found a way of communicating with a Starfleet vessel, but the only way to accomplish it was to transmit his holomatrix through some alien relay. Correction, multiple relays. The prospect was daunting to say the least.

"You may be our only chance to communicate with that ship."

Tearing his eyes away from the image of the Starfleet ship projected on the screen, the Doctor met Captain Janeway's eyes. Sheer determination mixed with the slightest hint of despair.

"When you get there," B'Elanna Torres cut in, drawing the Doctor's attention, "you'll be downloaded into their EMH system. I'm sending an initiation code along with your programme, so you'll be activated immediately."

The Doctor opened his mouth to ask exactly what he should expect once he did get there, but Seven-of-Nine spoke up from behind him before he got a chance. He and the Captain both turned to look at her.

"We have less than ninety seconds before that ship moves out of range."

Although a dozen experts in the Alpha Quadrant would have said that it was impossible for a photonic being, the Doctor felt his stomach clench at the thought of what awaited him. Brushing past Janeway, unable to just stay standing, he walked towards the screen.

"How am I supposed to get back here?"

"When you've completed your mission, instruct them to move within range of the sensor network. With luck, they can send you back the same way you came."

The Doctor turned to face Janeway, who had come up behind him. He frowned. "Luck?"

Janeway's face remained impassive, her voice full of steel. "I won't lie to you, Doctor. A lot of things could go wrong." For a moment, he could see the frustration reflected in her eyes. "We're relying on an alien technology to send you across thousands of light-years."

"So there's a chance my programme could be lost."

"Yes." He had not expected the captain to pull any punches and it looked as though he had been right. "And I'm asking you to take that chance."

The Doctor looked away, unable to hold her gaze. What was he going to do? For what might be the first time in his life, he felt actively terrified at what the future might hold. They were asking him to undertake what could possibly be a suicidal mission, with no guarantee of success. And they were asking him to do so in record time. As if from a distance, he heard the console where Seven was working begin chirping, heard her announce in that almost emotionless voice: "Thirty five seconds." He gazed at the sight of the strange relay network on the screen, trying to make a decision.

"Doctor."

Although every photon in his body screamed for him to refuse, he also knew that this might be Voyager's only chance to get back in contact with Starfleet.

"Far be it from me to turn down an opportunity to become a hero. I'm ready."

Giving him a little smile, Janeway pushed him forward. He allowed himself to be guided up onto the small platform in front of the Astrometrics' screen, studying the relay network as if it were an unknown virus he needed to heal. Behind him, he could hear Torres and Chakotay discussing the procedure.

"Ten seconds."

"Good luck, Doctor."

Turning back around, the Doctor couldn't resist retorting. "There's that word again." He smiled.

Smiling back, Captain Janeway nodded. The Doctor felt a surge of pride as Seven of Nine turned away from her screen to look at him. Moments later, Lieutenant Torres input the final command. Light infused his being as his matrix decompiled itself, rearranging itself so as to be better transmitted. The Doctor had no memory of the passage. As far as he was concerned, one moment he was aboard Voyager and the next he was somewhere else.

A medical bay. Starfleet design. Lots of beiges and browns. He felt a moment of pleasure that the transfer had worked before he heard a sharp voice.

"Who the hell are you?"

Spinning round, the Doctor found himself face to face with an attractive young human woman wearing a strange uniform he was only barely able to recognise as Starfleet issue. All black and purple, with a blue undershirt the only indication of medical speciality, it seemed much too military to be from the Starfleet he knew.

"I- I-"

"Dammit, who activated this antique?"

The Doctor spluttered as she turned away. "I will have you know that I am not a-"

"Computer, terminate EMH."

The Doctor winced, expecting to feel the familiar electrical wash as his matrix deactivated. He was surprised to see that he was still there. From the look on her face, so was the woman. Well done, B'Elanna.

"Computer, I said-"

"My name is the Doctor," the Doctor said quickly, in case the first time had been a fluke. "I am the emergency medical hologram aboard the USS Voyager. I have been sent here by that ship from the Delta Quadrant. Please, we need your help."

For a brief moment, it looked as though the woman had believed him. Then she rolled her eyes.

"Carter, what did you do to the EMH?"

"What?" A young human male in an ensign's uniform walked in from one of the chambers off the main sickbay floor. He held some kind of engineering instrument - it appeared to be a sonic screwdriver of some description - in his hand. When he saw the Doctor, he paused. "Hey, why did you activate a Mark I?"

The young woman sighed. "Come on, Carter. It was a nice joke. Just get him out of here before the Captain sees him."

Carter - the young ensign - shook his head. "Seriously, Laura, I didn't do this."

"But-" She spun back to the Doctor. "Could he be a Founder?"

The Doctor felt his irritation reach a boiling point. "Listen, I do not know who you are, what a Foundler is or even where I am. If you would just check your communication's log, you will see that I was transmitted to you from a relay that is on the very edge of your sensors. I am telling you the truth!"

Carter and the young woman - Laura - stared at him in surprise. Finally, Laura reached up and tapped her comm badge. "Lieutenant Vasquez to Engineering. Chief, I think you should come to sickbay. We may have a problem."