Special Investigations Division
Pax Romana - Part 2
by Travis Anderson
(michelluthien@hotmail.com)

Pax Romana - Part 2

Chapter 4

The door leading to the second hangar section slid aside, allowing Macen a glimpse of his ship. Occupying the bulk of the cavernous space, resting on landing struts, sat a Ju'day-class scoutship. During its prime, the raptor-like vessel had been an uncontested favourite amongst civilian prospectors, smugglers, and surveyors. That day had faded thirty years before and only the Maquis' desperation had brought the class back into the limelight. Ingenuity laced with fatalism patched the ageing vessels back together and sent them forth against impossible odds. The Eclipse sat before them as a proud bearer of a distinguished, if occasionally, tarnished record of service.

"Where's Dracas?" Macen asked, "Is she ready for boarding?"

"As of yesterday." Riker assured him. Tapping one of the nondescript octangular comm badges the team wore, Riker opened a channel to Dracas, "Chief, you ready to transport?"

"Whenever." Dracas' gruff voice replied.

"Lock on and take us aboard then." Riker ordered and felt his body begin to transform into energy seconds later.

* * * * *

Amanda Drake slid into her desk chair with a sigh of relief. Other than Alynna Nechayev, Drake usually found superior officers to be nerve wracking. Jellico held a classification all his own. Drake had never encountered a more arrogant tight-ass in the Admiralty before. Owen Paris may occasionally develop a god complex but at least he always remained approachable.

Nechayev, the dreaded "Ice Queen" of Starfleet, had taken Drake under her wing back when Amanda was a Lieutenant serving as Ships Archivist aboard the USS Icarus. By that point, the role was a thinly veiled euphemism for Intelligence Officer. She transferred off the Cheyenne-class scout directly to Admiral Nechayev's Sector Command HQ located at Starbase 325. Nechayev soon began grooming the talents Drake hid behind a shield of shyness and moulded her into the woman who might well replace her one-day.

As Drake reflected on these and other matters, her doorbell chimed. Ambril Delori knew how tired Amanda was, if her assistant was willing to let someone past her, then her visitor was damn well important. Marshalling her resolve, she ordered the door to admit her waiting caller. Nechayev's rigidly upright frame entered the office with a measured stride, catching Drake by surprise with this unannounced personal appearance.

Drake attempted to hide how flustered she felt as she rose from her chair, "Admiral, I wasn't expecting you."

"Sit down Amanda." Nechayev gently urged.

Nechayev's new demeanour stunned Drake. Alynna had never been anything other than pushy, critical, devious, glacial and arrogant in Drake's experience, and those were the nice traits. As Nechayev sat down in the chair across the desk from hers, Amanda noticed something she'd never spotted before: Nechayev was exhausted. Not simply mentally, physically or emotionally tired but suffering from a weariness that ate at the core of her being.

"Admiral, is there anything I can get you?" Drake asked, unused to Nechayev's unabashed display of mortality.

Alynna chuckled, "Had a few illusions undermined, eh?"

"Yes... no!" Drake blurted, "I was just wondering if there was something your doctor could do?"

"There's no medicine or surgery for a guilty conscious." Nechayev replied with a bitter smile, " I suppose I just felt a need to warn you of that seeing as what department I put you in command of. You'll be swimming amongst controversy and second guesses. Your only hope for survival, for sanity, is that once you've made a decision, go with it and never question it. If it turns out to the wrong decision or not the best one, learn but don't doubts consume."

Drake appreciated the heartfelt intensity of the older woman's words, but wonder as to their necessity, Nechayev gave her another brittle smile, "Amanda, you've been given oversight and responsibility of the most secret branch of Starfleet. On top of this, half of your operatives operate off the agricultural colony. Generally neither Starfleet Command nor the Federation Defence Ministers have a clue as to the nature of your division's current and ongoing operations. Basically, I've thrown you out on a razor thin wire and can't do much if you slip and fall."

"That certainly made my day." Drake frowned.

"I wish I could have." Nechayev confessed, "I just thought it would be prudent to remind you of what's all at stake."

"Because of 492 IV?" Drake asked, searching out Nechayev's eyes.

"Yes." Nechayev answered tersely but honestly, "This is a problem that's been left around to phaser blast our rear deflector for far too long. No matter what happens next, it will change the fate of two quadrants."

* * * * *

"So, is she all fixed?" Macen asked while gently tapping a bulkhead in Dracas' domain: Engineering.

"Not only are all the damage and overloads repaired but I also took some time to modify some of the balkier parts of the integrated systems." Dracas came as close to a smile as he ever did; "She should run smoother than the day we got her."

Macen nodded in appreciation of that assessment. What made the venerable looking Eclipse unique amongst her fellow raiders is that although she appeared to date back to the earliest decades of this century, she had been built over the last year and incorporated some of the latest technology. Besides the usual complement of phaser and photon torpedo arrays, the Eclipse possessed enhanced shields; phaser pulse cannons mounted in her wingtips, a sensor system and countermeasure suite second to none and a Class 4 cloaking device. Unfortunately, not all of the systems had fluidly integrated upon leaving drydock and the ship had been plagued with minor mechanical difficulties for months.

Macen clapped Dracas on the shoulder, "I knew if anyone could get this bucket of bolts running smoothly, It'd be you Chief."

Dracas gave Macen another half-smile but his eyes glowed from triumph, "Thank you, Cap... Commander." Dracas shook his head, "Sorry, I'm still getting used to the whole title thing."

"Don't mention it." Riker grinned, "I'm still getting used to being called 'Captain'," Riker's grin grew wider, "but I really enjoy it."

Reviewing his history as a starship commander, Macen had been forced to admit a blind, deaf, and retarded mugatto could've done better. Looking for another person to serve as the ship's captain, he started with those he knew. R Laren had finally settled into her new life on DS9 and Macen didn't want to tear her away from her newfound family there. After that, a very short list was soon exhausted. That was when Macen went looking Tom Riker. Riker had been incredulous at first but once convinced of the offer's authenticity, he'd readily accepted.

The nature of their respective roles was simple. As Mission Commander, Macen was responsible for the overall considerations for the mission, spaceborne and terrestrial. As Captain, Riker was responsible for the Eclipse's daily operations and her crew. Although Macen outranked Riker, he intended to essentially leave all starship operations up to Tom. This contributed to the need to recruit additional members of the crew that would not be part of the Investigative Team.

Macen's reunion with his ship was suddenly interrupted by a request from Outbound Venture's Business Manager to relieve her of the four candidates waiting to be interviewed for positions as ship's crew. Riker had approached thirteen souls with Macen's offer. Riker himself was surprised that as many as four showed up.

Macen and Riker proceeded to the above ground facility that served as Outbound Ventures' Corporate HQ. This public face of the company remained the personal fiefdom of Christine Pike. Pike was a former member of Amanda Drake's staff and a relentlessly methodical office manager. Taking a leave of absence from Starfleet to become the SID's liaison with their most prodigal progeny, Pike handled the daily affairs and contract negotiations while also acting as the team's handler.

Thus far, Pike had found her job to be as pleasurable as a disrupter wound. Macen and his bunch were too damned unpredictable for her taste. Macen's latest decision annoyed her most of all. Tom Riker came aboard the Outbound Ventures payroll as ship's captain. Macen had made this decision based upon his mounting tally of ship losses. No matter what his motive was, Pike fumed; a divided chain of command always amounted to a recipe for disaster.

Pike's mental rant was interrupted as the comm screen on her desk warned of an incoming message from Starfleet Command. The screen activated to reveal Amanda Drake herself wearing a grim expression.

"Can we talk?" Drake asked.

"No one is in the building and the anti-surveillance devices are active." Pike answered gravely, "No one is listening."

"Good." Drake's expression lightened up minutely, "Now listen, I have quite a bit of information that must be passed on to Commander Macen. You must stress to him the sensitivity of this information and that he should he regard it as 'Eyes Only' materials."

Drake's eyes bored in through the screen, "That means you as well Christine. If you view this information without authorisation from either myself or Admiral Nechayev, you'll be facing a lengthy stay on Jaros II. I am making myself understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Pike replied out of shock and ingrained habit.

"Good." Drake sighed, "Be ready to receive transmission in 30 seconds."

Pike activated the necessary systems and inputted the necessary commands, upon completion she looked back at the comm screen; "May I ask a question, ma'am?"

Drake nodded and Pike posed her query, "If I hadn't agreed to your restrictions, what consequences would there have been?"

Pike could see the icy detachment in Drake's expression; "I have a courier ship standing by to deliver the data to Commander Macen and to drop off your replacement."

Pike's mocha skin paled upon hearing that; "Macen has job interviews scheduled for this afternoon. On top of that, he and T'Kir just returned from a mission. How am I going to get him to divert his attention to this data? Pike asked in a resigned tone, "He has to be the most stubborn man in the galaxy."

"I'll agree with you there." Drake confided, "I haven't known anyone so hell bent on his own destruction since my ex-husband."

"You were married?" Pike blurted before she had time to regret wondering it out loud.

Drake's cheeks flushed pink, "Yes, Lieutenant, I was once married, we went our separate ways and its all said and done now."

Pike knew by Drake's "mistake" of using a rank below her actual grade that was warning her subordinate to mind her curiosity and her tongue. "The matter is completely forgotten."

"Good." Drake grumbled, paused, then shrugged her shoulders; "Tell Macen the data involves one phrase."

"What phrase is that?"

"The Beagle is barking."

Drake's transmission ended before Pike could question her about the origin of the unfamiliar phrase. Of course beagles barked. That was no secret. She sat down in her chair and waited Macen and Riker to arrive. Strange things are unfolding here. Drake thought, And to call something strange amongst this group is really saying something.

* * * * *

The lift door connecting the underground chambers to the office opened with a whoosh. Macen shook his head as he and Riker stepped out of the lift.

"What?" a puzzled Riker inquired.

"Nothing." Macen sighed, "You'd just think that being this far out would allow oneself to escape from those doors and the damn sound they make. '

"What sound?" if anything, Riker was more confused now.

"That hissing sound that every automatic door in the Federation makes." Macen explained, ranted really, "You're so culturally programmed to ignore their noise. It doesn't even register on your conscious perception. Your unconscious, however, knows. It knows and it's rebelling. That type of door is going to be the end of the Federation as billions upon billions of sentients rise up and smash their doors. After that release of pent up hostility, they'll destroy every piece of technology around them."

Riker merely stared at Macen in mute silence, after several moments he finally got over his shock enough to speak; "So, they're a bit of a pet peeve?"

"I swear those things were built by a mad genius trying to take over the Federation." Macen muttered, "I did some research on it before the 1st Cardassian War. I never tracked down the culprit responsible for the original plans and test model but I did discover the facility also housed a genetics lab on the opposite side of the station. Two genetically altered and enhanced mice escaped from their cages mere days before the blueprints were mysteriously turned in by a janitor to the Head Engineer and purchased for an undisclosed sum. Afterwards, the janitor and the mice were never seen again."

"You can't be serious." Riker chuckled, then stopped upon seeing Macen's expression; "You can't be serious. That's insane."

"Not any more insane then dealing with some of the beings and situations we encounter every day. And they're blindly accepted as 'sane'." Macen retorted sharply,

"We tolerate despotic rulers butchering their subjects to reduce the population in years grain shortages. We stand by as two civilisations try to wipe each other out over un-winnable disputes over whose gods are more powerful. We sit back and shake our heads as more powerful forces blockade a planet and then enslave it as the defenders collapse from exhaustion as their pleas for assistance fall on deaf ears. These are absurdities, not being irritated by the sound a door makes."

Riker's response consisted of a blank and measured stare. Macen's indictments struck far closer to home than he wanted to admit. He'd always devotedly believed in the Federation's credos until he found himself an anomaly amongst the average. His faith in the infallibility of the Federation had eroded and finally erased during his stint in a Cardassian labour camp.

"Still," Riker finally offered, "the concept of two mice and a janitor conspiring to take over Earth and then the Federation?"

"I never said two mice and a janitor." Mace n corrected, "I'm fairly certain the janitor was a mechanoid construction allowing the mice to pass as human."

Riker blinked in surprise, "So now we're down to two mice trying to take over the world?"

"Ask me about the Poolquens some time if you want a history lesson on small beings with grand ambitions." Macen suggested.

"Only if you join in our poker night gatherings." Riker counter-offered.

Macen nodded, "Sounds like a fair exchange."

"And bring latinum." Riker suggested with a devilish grin.

"Macen, Riker, about damn time you got here." Pike irritably interrupted.

"And a pleasant hello to you too." Macen replied mirthfully.

"Damn it sir, I don't have time for this." Pike fumed, "Admiral Drake contacted me about an assignment and downloaded 'eyes only' documents for you to examine immediately."

Macen's right eyebrow arched upward, "Really?"

"Please?" Pike implored.

Macen shrugged, "Are you aware of the fact that I've just returned from a three week mission?"

Pike nodded, "Admiral Drake told me to tell you one phrase if you were resistant."

Macen sighed, "And that would be?"

"The beagles are barking."

Macen's face in a mask of solemnity, "Do you mean 'The Beagle has barked'?"

Same thing really." Pike replied defensively, uncomfortable with the deadly seriousness that Macen was studying her with.

"You'd better be damned certain, Christine." Macen said in quiet steely tones, "It could change everything."

Rattled by his reaction and his rare use of her given name, she nodded; "She phrased it exactly the same way you did."

"Damn." Macen whispered vehemently, "Tom, you'll have to conduct the interviews alone. They'll primarily be under your watch anyway so it'll be a good chance for you to establish your authority."

Riker nodded again, "I'll get on it."

As the big man left Macen wheeled on Pike, "Is the data loaded into my office computer here or aboard the Eclipse?"

"I thought the Eclipse would afford you greater privacy." Pike explained.

Macen wore a wry grin while shaking his head, "Not while T'Kir's aboard."

* * * * *

The bridge module of the Eclipse had been changed while she was in drydock. Unbeknownst to Starfleet, the alien con artist named Darla would later use a nearly identical design in her Delta Flyer mock up in the Gamma Quadrant. The Command chair sat just forward of the rear bulkhead. On either side were access doors, one leading to the corridor beyond and the other to the Captain's Ready Room.

Sitting just forward of the viewscreen were two stations. Two the Captain's left sat the helm. The right station contained the Ops controls. To the captain's right lay the Tactical station. Next to Tactical lay Engineering. Immediately to the Captain's left lay the Mission Specialist Station that was Macen's domain. Forward of his station lay the Science station.

T'Kir was at her post modifying the controls and program pathways to her taste. She heard the access door open and recognised Grace's stride as she approached. Having already glanced over Hannah's board, she new the team's chief pilot had already customised her board. If she knew Hannah, and the woman was her best friend, then she could imagine how badly Grace was chomping at the bit to get out into space and test the Eclipse's mended wings.

T'Kir paused a moment before swivelling her chair to face Grace, "I heard you y'know."

Grace smiled, "Of course you did. I still suspect those ears of yours pick up more than you'll ever let on... except maybe to a certain Brin Macen."

T'Kir started, "What'd make you think that?"

"Oh, come on!" Grace laughed, "I'm your best friend so I should be able to pick up if you're in love with someone."

Seeing T'Kir's shock at this, Grace tried to console her chum; "Hey, it's not that bad. When the rest of the crew starts noticing, then it's time to worry. And when Kort finally realises how you feel, then you know its either time to slap our beloved leader in the face or get the hell outta Dodge."

"Elements!" T'Kir breathed, "Can you imagine a worse matchmaker? You know he'd try to shackle me and throw me at Brin's feet and sing some damned Klingon opera about honour, virtue, and taking your mate with animal strength and a warrior's prowess."

Grace giggled, "Wouldn't he just?"

T'Kir put her hand on Grace's knee, "Thanks for not saying anything to anyone. I have to find my own way to deal with this."

"Why not tell him how you feel?" Grace offered, "It's simple and direct."

"And it may ruin or existing relationship." T'Kir explained, "I don't want to jeopardise that for anything. Not even for...."

T'Kir's mind was suddenly assaulted with images of immense beings of incalculable power and logic. They came from another galaxy to the Milky Way. In order to survive their new environment; they'd been forced to utilise their technology to transform themselves into a native lifeform while keeping their core identity. The lifeform had been human colonists on a distant world.

"T'Kir!" Grace cried out in alarm as she jostled her friend, "Are you all right?"

T'Kir blinked a few times as Grace's features took shape, "I'm here. What happened?"

"You stopped talking." Grace informed her, "You just stared off at nothing for a minute-thirty. I'm calling Kort."

"No!" T'Kir grabbed Grace's arm, "All he'll find is that I'm exhausted. It was gruelling mission. Be glad you weren't along for the ride."

"I am now." Grace admitted, "At first I thought be a cosy opportunity for you and Macen to get to know each other a little more but I can see that chance wasn't any where near the same sector."

"Never once." T'Kir confirmed.

"You sure you're OK?" Grace inquired.

"If you have anything else you'd like to do, do it." T'Kir assured her, "I'm fine, really. I'll have the computer monitor me and if there's another whatever it'll alert Kort."

"You're sure?" Grace sceptically asked.

"Go already." T'Kir pushed Grace out of her station chair.

"I'll check on you later." Grace promised as she walked towards the access door, "And for god's sake, do something about Macen!"

T'Kir waited for the doors to open before turning around. She missed the steely glare thrown over Grace's shoulder. The expression on Hannah's bespoke death of death's arrival. As the doors closed behind her, she fervently prayed to the ancient gods that she wouldn't have to kill T'Kir.

* * * * *

Macen deactivated the monitor on his desk. Part of the information he'd perused he'd written himself as part of a long ago "theoretical contingency plan". He hadn't liked the conclusions drawn then and he liked them even less now. However, the best choice was to follow their mandates.

He flipped his comm screen on and linked to Pike, " Tell Amanda we'll accept the mission."

"Yessir." She replied crisply, "Any other messages?"

"Tell her to watch out for Alynna's advice." Macen grinned, "It could ruin her career."

"Sir?" Pike asked, confused by his message.

"Just tell her what I said, she'll understand the rest." With that he deactivated the comm. He reclined back into his chair and contemplated what lay before them. The Currents, or what he could still perceive of them, were twisted to and fro. Extrasensory perception would be of little use here, only guile and skill would get them through this.

He activated the intercom, "Chief? You still aboard?"

"I was about to pack it in." Dracas informed him, "What's up?"

"We need to prep for an immediate launch." Macen explained, "I'll get you some help and send them on over. How soon can we be aloft?"

"Depends on how much help I get." Dracas admitted, "She's pretty well prepped for immediate launch now. Worst case scenario would be ninety minutes, best case is thirty."

"I'll expect thirty then. Macen out." He deactivated the intercom before Dracas could reply.

Rising from his chair, Macen headed out into the corridor and headed for the turbolift. Once there, he headed past the brig and armoury. He reached his destination between the Eclipse's two primary cargo bays. He descended the ramp leading to the hangar's floor and headed straightaway for the corporate offices. It was time to hire Riker's interviewees and send them straightaway to work.

* * * * *

Riker stepped into the briefing room set aside for today's interviews and found only three of the four candidates waiting for him. A young Bajoran woman seemed vaguely disappointed that he wasn't someone else. Probably knows Macen, don't take it personally, Tom advised himself. A Bolian male of indeterminate age sat beside her. Their ease around each other suggested a previous history. The sullen human sitting away from the group vaguely reminded Tom of someone but he couldn't place who it was. That merely left the matter of the missing sentient. Heavy footsteps behind him made Tom turn around.

"Where do you think..." The realisation that he speaking into another beings chest stopped Riker cold. He possessed a rather impressive physique supplemented by an equally impressive stature. The grey skinned being standing before him made Riker appears small and harmless.

Ignoring the fact that the alien's exposed upper body rippled with more muscles than he dared think about, Riker stared the alien in the eye and demanded an explanation for his tardiness.

"I'm sorry." Came the surprisingly meek rumbling bass, "But a sentient's gotta go when a sentient's gotta go."

"It's all right this time." Riker asked, "Please take your seat, but if you don't mind me asking, who are you and where are you from? I've never seen anyone else like you."

"Probably never will since I'm a freak amongst my own kind." The giant ended everyone's guessing game when he continued, "Name's Bruis B'nner and I'm an Orion. I just don't look it `cus I'm an albino."

Bruis swept his gaze at everyone in the room as he picked up a duranium model of a Constitution-class ship and crushed it in one hand, "And I don't like to be teased about it."

Chapter 5

Macen looked forward to a reunion with the various applicants interviewing with Tom Riker. He'd met Sito Jaxa when Ro had recruited her into the Maquis. Her tale of abandonment by Starfleet had struck a resonant chord with her newfound compatriots. Macen had found her eking out a living serving aboard a tramp freighter. It had taken little persuasion to convince her to join up as a crewman aboard the Eclipse.

Sito herself had suggested another of the recruits. Nick Lucarno had been her quad leader in Starfleet Academy. The fatal accident that had caused Sito to undergo an extra year at the Academy had also demanded Lucarno's expulsion. That stigma prevented his enlistment during the height of the Dominion War. Macen found him operating a charter flight service out near Sigma Iotia. Like Sito, Lucarno required no coaxing to hire on.

Emjin Thool was a longstanding associate dating back to Thool's days as Ro's chief engineer. He'd fought for the cause until the bitter end. Thool had retired on his native Bolia and never expected to see any of his former comrades again. Macen's message had brought both joy and trepidation. In the end, Thool accepted Macen's offer out of the sedate boredom of a Federation member world that was now totally alien to him.

Bruis B'nner was another matter unto himself. The grey skinned Orion was an anomaly amongst his green skinned race. Seeing the dim view Orions took to mutations, It was a wonder B'nner had survived to adulthood. Most Orion children born with birth defects were slain by the father, the few allowed to live generally perished at the hands of their peers.

B'nner possessed the same stolid physique as his fellow Orions. In fact, he was larger and far heavily muscled than the average "free trader". Macen had met B'nner in the early 60's while helping out a Starfleet Intelligence investigative unit. The Orion Syndicate clan on Sigma Draconis II had begun a territorial dispute in order to make a lunge at expanding their powerbase. B'nner had been a repair tech on the dilapidated K-series in orbit over Sigma Draconis.

Seizing on the opportunity, B'nner gladly handed over information leading to the clanlord's arrest. Placed under a Federation witness protection program, B'nner soon discovered it was difficult hiding an eight-foot tall, grey-skinned Orion weighing half a metric ton. Just like before his supposed "betrayal" of the Syndicate, Bruis soon faced the occasional assassin that he would swiftly dispatch with aplomb. His childhood having been far more terrifying than anything the Syndicate could throw at him, B'nner was content to stay a lowly technician at whatever spaceport or freighter that would hire him. It had taken a great deal of persuasion for Macen to get B'nner to even consider working for Outbound Ventures.

As Macen neared the briefing room Riker was conducting the interviews in; he began to hear Tom's sales pitch; "So in the course of daily events, you will report directly to me."

"But what about Captain Macen?" Thool asked.

"Haven't you been listening, Bolian?" B'nner rumbled, "Riker here is the ship's captain. Macen serves as an overseer of sorts."

"Ahem," Riker cleared his throat, "Bruis is correct about me being the captain of the Eclipse. Commander Macen is her owner and mission commander."

"Not to mention the guy that thumbs our pay credits." Lucarno joked.

Riker chuckled, "Even I can't forget that one. Look, here's the simple breakdown; you folks are the relief crew. You're only ship's crew and not part of the investigative team. While hopefully your duties will be more interesting than if you were on a cargo runner. Personally, I can vouch for the fact my short time with the company has been the most exciting days of my life. That said, you aren't under any obligation to engage in activities extending beyond the hull of the ship."

"So how do we designate authority and why do you refer to Mr. Macen as 'Commander'?" Sito asked

"Only three people aboard hold titles. As Mission Commander, Macen earns a little respect. As captain, you'd better think of me as your new personal deity." Riker waited for the chuckles to die down before resuming; "Chief Dracas gets his for being head of engineering. If you think of me as your god, then Dracas is the devil that can destroy us all. Other than that, Rab Daggit is the Executive Officer but that doesn't really give him any onboard title."

"So it's a pretty informal set-up?" B'nner asked.

"Yep." Riker confirmed.

There was a stretch of silence that Riker finally ended, "So any last questions?"

Silence.

"All right then." Riker grinned, "Whose ready to sign aboard."

Everyone rose at once, giving Macen the opportunity to enter, "Hello folks. I can't tell you how pleased I am that you've agreed to become part of the family. And in case you're worried that you'll be the unwanted bastard stepchildren, you won't be. Being a member of the team means you're a member of the team. And just in time too. I've just accepted a new contract. I hope everyone came packed and prepared for lift-off."

He received a few stunned nods before he turned to Riker; "The others have been notified and are on their way here. I'll give you and the others a briefing once they're aboard and we're aloft"

"Very well." Riker nodded, then turned towards his recruits, "Get your personal effects and meet me here and then I'll take you to the Eclipse and get you stowed away."

Everyone was bustling about on the crowded bridge of the Eclipse. Grace and T'Kir were at their posts prepping for launch. Daggit sat at Tactical checking his systems. Radil sat at the Communications station beside him. Across the bridge, Sito sat at the normally vacant Science station while Lucarno sat at Macen's locked down Mission Control station. B'nner was missing due to the fact none of the stations could accommodate him so he remained in Engineering. Thool chose to spend the launch near the warp reactors in order to get a feel for how they operated.

The Command chair sat against the rear bulkhead with data panels to either side of it. Access door A to the right and behind of the Conn led to the ship's central corridor. Access B on the opposite side led to the Captain's Ready Room. This was modelled after that of an Intrepid-class starship. Sitting alongside the Ready Room via the corridor sat Macen's office, which again followed the design set by the Intrepid-class' Executive Officer's Office.

The centre seat was unoccupied since Riker was conferring with Macen in the latter's office, "We're almost ready to lift, any destination in particular?"

Macen ignored Riker's joke, "Set course for Sigma 492 as soon as we clear the warp threshold."

"Sigma 492? Isn't that a quarantined system?" Riker asked with concern.

"As I said, I'll brief everyone after we get underway." Macen replied firmly, "Any other questions?"

"Now that you mention it," Riker said with a grin, "what's up with Radil?"

"In what way?"

"She looks different." Riker said.

"She looks the same as she did the day you signed on." Macen countered.

""Yes, but before that." Riker persisted, "She's Bajoran isn't she?"

"Yes." Macen conceded.

"Then why the alterations?" Riker inquired, "What did she have changed and why?"

"She removed a lot of scarring as well as her vestigial bone ridges." Macen informed, "Daggit's recruiting methods bordered on kidnapping. The Orion Syndicate took a dim view of her sudden disappearance. When our very next contract brought her into conflict with both her former employers and the mercenary team she'd served with, she opted for the surgery to remove all identifying marks. Now she'll get a few seconds warning as someone tries to figure out who she is." Macen grinned, "And if you want to know more, I suggest you ask her yourself. Why the sudden curiosity?"

"I saw a picture of the team from before I joined and both she and Chief Dracas looked very different."

"The Chief received physical alteration as part of his mental health therapy."

"What?" Riker went pale; "He's not disturbed is he?"

"No." Macen kept himself from laughing, "But he did hate himself at one time. Now the person that he saw in the mirror is gone and he can function."

"But why?"

"A few months before you signed on, Dracas was captured and held by pirates in the employ of the Andergani. His treatment at their hands was particularly vile and invasive. It took several weeks after that for the emotional damage to reveal itself. Hating himself for his inability to stop his tormentors, Dracas literally mentally froze every time he saw his reflection."

"In order to free him from a lifetime of institutionalisation, Dracas opted for a cosmetic makeover. His once nearly baldpate now has a thick shock of dark, greying hair. His once reedy physique is now medium-build and athletic. Even his vocal chords were altered to allow him to undergo a rebirth that freed him from his ailments."

Macen leaned forward over his desk, "Now this started with Radil. What sparked your curiosity?"

"She gave me a strange look earlier while you were landing." Riker explained.

Still not comprehending the magnitude of the supposed problem, Macen asked; "Strange how?"

"It was sort of a... it was hungry is all I can say." Riker struggled for words.

"Have you ever considered that she might be attracted to you?" Macen suggested, "You have a certain reputation with the ladies and Radil is still a young woman. She might be attracted to you."

"I don't know why she would be." Riker confessed, "I haven't been a ladies' man for some time."

"No, you've seasoned and matured. You've endured hell and bounced back with an amazing resiliency. You're rebellious without being foolish. Added to your natural charisma, humour and charm you comprise a picture Radil could find very alluring."

"Great." Riker sighed, "I don't know how I should handle this. How do you handle it?"

"Handle what?" Macen sounded perplexed.

"You and T'Kir."

A pin could have dropped in the silence that followed until Macen finally cleared his throat and spoke with a strained voice, "T'Kir and I what?"

Riker suddenly that he'd entered a Romulan minefield here, "The fact that T'Kir is in love with you."

Through clenched teeth Macen asked, "And what gives you that idea?"

"Haven't you ever seen the way she looks at you?" Riker had to ask, "It's painfully obvious to anyone that watches you together."

Macen's mind reeled, "We've known each other for nearly a decade. We're friends. Nothing more."

"Are you sure?" Riker asked, "A friend of mine once tested me by asking who the most important person in my life was, the one I would abandon everything for. That person is the person you truly love. Who's your person?"

Macen was surprised and yet startled to discover that T'Kir fit that billet. He loved her but wasn't certain he was in love with her. As far as her feelings went, how long had she felt this way? Why hadn't she told him?

"You really didn't know?" Riker asked in mild horror.

Macen slowly shook his head, still distracted; "I had no idea. I suppose I'm the last to know?" Macen asked in mild disgust.

"If they didn't know, they suspected." Riker confirmed, "But I'm sure the newbies haven't figured it out yet."

"Give them five minutes with Hannah and they'll know all." Macen observed bleakly.

Tom spoke again, "So any ideas on how you'll handle the situation?"

Macen shrugged, "I'll tell her my feelings around the situation and she what happens."

"And these feelings are?" Riker fished again.

Macen silently resisted the urge to strangle Riker, "That's a matter between her and I."

"Uh oh." Riker mumbled under his breath.

"What's 'uh oh'?" Macen demanded. Seeing Riker's startled reaction, he added; "There's a reason my race is stereotyped as listeners."

"We've accepted a contract and are setting out on a mission, the particulars still unknown. As I understand it, the last time she became enamoured with you and you rejected her advances, she stabbed you. Can you see why I'd be worried if your answer is, 'No'?"

Macen sighed as he reclined back in his seat. He knew exactly why Tom was worried and so was he. T'Kir's contribution to the team would be pivotal during the mission. Maybe he ought to wait and discuss the matter with her until after they finished their contract.

"All right." Macen conceded, "I'll wait until we're back in friendly territory before bringing the matter up with her."

"Thank god." Riker's head lolled forward as he relaxed his tense shoulders, after rolling his head he rose; "I have to get back to the bridge. Are you sure you don't want to join us?"

Macen shook his head, "Too much work besides the fact the newbies need the experience more than I do."

"See you at the briefing then." Riker nodded and departed.

She loves me, Macen mused, I never thought I'd hear those words again. I wish I knew exactly that made me feel. It's such a jumbled mess I don't know where to begin. Maybe I don't want to know.

* * * * *

The Roman commander's cruiser landed before the Imperial Residence. The private pad there rarely entertained any craft but those of the household. The Praetorian Guard maintained their ever-vigilant presence, but no other military units had stepped foot on these grounds for almost a century. Alaric Germanicus knew this display meant Aurelius Romulus was both pleased and eager to inspect his booty.

The Roman cruiser resembled a giant bird. The length and breadth ship came in at 180 metres, the width provided by two extensions moulded to resemble wings. The forward module was sleek like a raptor's lines and mounted a variable dispersal photon torpedo launcher. In combat, the ship displayed the might of the Roman Eagle.

As the 1st Admiral of the Star Legions, Alaric also knew that the Roman cruisers were not entirely the result of Roman efforts. Engineers had poured over the wreckage of Merrick's ill-fated SS Beagle. The Proconsul utilised this opportunity to be named Emperor of Magna Roma and Dictator of Gaia. Seizing upon the mobs' newfound fear of alien invasion, a program designed to create starships was born.

Fifty afterwards, the first warp capable craft departed Nova Roma's atmosphere. It was little more than a cockpit mounted atop a warp engine. If Zephrim Cochrane's warp flight could be heralded as the birth of the Federation, so too could this flight be labelled as the birth of a darker alliance. Alaric stood amongst an elite cadre of peers, living at least, that knew of the Emperor's allies in this quest for the stars.

Shortly after the Gladiator's historic flight, Emperor Doric Romulus received a midnight visitation from two cloaked strangers offering technology to enhance the Roman's starship achievements. Doric scoffed at that and his hooded "guests" merely chuckled.

We shall see, they informed him in sibilant tones. The following day, the project managers overseeing the Gladiator's next launch discovered several changes to their design. Once launched she tripled her speed and ran more smoothly.

The next night, Doric's visitors returned. Still swathed in the dark robes, the two revealed themselves as ambassadors from a powerful and ancient power that wished to establish relations with emerging races in this part of the galaxy. Promised autonomy and technology transfers in exchange for aiding their benefactors if the latter were at war. Doric readily agreed.

The two visitors stayed on as "students of Roman life and advisors regarding stellar knowledge". Five years had passed since Doric had refused to officially acknowledge one of his alien advisors. The next morning the Emperor was found dead of a previously unknown, and never seen again, virulent infection. Aurelius Romulus rose to power with full knowledge of who smoothed and assured his ascension to power. He also knew the price of his throne.

That price bore the name Ezixiem. No one knew what lay beneath his intertwined layers of black cloth, or under his metal gauntlets and boots. When asked his place of origin, he (she?) merely replied with one word: Omricron. No one knew if humanoids, saurians, or energy beings dwelt there. In fact, no one recalled having heard of it before. This fact seemed to anger Ezixiem, who acted as though the name should have been on the tip of every tongue.

The sight of the mysteriously clad stranger looming over the rather diminutive Emperor was unsettling to senior military officers as well as the Senators that now had to deal with their unexpected "observer". The explanation given the mob was that Ezixiem was a badly burned commander from the millennia long border war with Germania and her allies.

The crowds cheered at the Emperor's compassion and the devotion to his legionnaires. With the Omricrons' help the Romans constructed the twenty-five vessels serving the Roman Star Legion. These vessels were to be the first of many soaring the atmosphere of their enemies.

Unfortunately, Alaric knew the Omicrons had completed most of the construction. The ship was a biomechanical wonder and a terror at the same time. The bioneural interfaces between computer systems amazed the Roman engineers. The charging systems could absorb stellar winds to replenish phaser banks in half the time Starfleet vessels could. The ships also came equipped with a biomemetic fluid spread between the inner and outer hull. If damaged, the biomemetic cells formed a sealing "scab" over the hull breach. The ships' distinctive green hue resulted from a thin veneer of the biomemetic gel.

Alaric could easily attest to the cruisers' capability. Dubbed the Sparta-class, the fleet had already proven itself against a half-dozen incursions of Magna Roman space. The ultimate victory had been the co-ordinated destruction of the accursed surveillance devices the Federation had placed around Sigma 492 IV. The real glory went to Alaric and his crew aboard the Javelin for not only planning and executing the Roman liberation from the Federation yoke, but for capturing Federation spies at the same time. This singular event earned Alaric and his ship landing privileges at the Imperial Residence.

No sooner had Alaric's troops aligned their prisoners than the Praetorians snapped to attention. The door from the residence to the landing pad opened, revealing the youthful Emperor. Aurelius Romulus strode forward, eager to congratulate Alaric and to inspect the prisoners. Behind him came the Consul and Chief Legate of the Senate. The Consul led the Senate's proceedings and decided which motions would carry on to committee meetings. The Chief Legate was responsible for maintaining civil order across the vast Empire including the suppression of dissident faction and self-proclaimed "freedom fighters". The ever-hooded Ezixiem was the last to step out of the palace's shadows

"Come, see what my greatest Admiral has brought me!" Aurelius shouted to his advisors, "He has given us safety in the heavens and brought us crippled angels so we might know what their masters think of us."

Alaric silently cringed at his Emperor's words. Although the young man fancied himself a poet of some talent, Alaric wished he could send the boy to Gaul in order for him to hear real poetry. As things stood now, he merely endured the half-wit's inane chatter. Soon enough, Alaric thought with a satisfaction that didn't register on his face, I'll have all the Legions behind me and then this fool will be dethroned.

Aurelius was pacing furiously up and down the line of prisoners. Occasionally, he would stop and speak with one. Ezixiem slid up beside Alaric. The Admiral's skin crawled as it did every time he stood in the presence of the unseen wraith. Alaric's attention had been diverted for a moment and now Aurelius had discovered Lisea Danan.

Alaric silently cursed as Ezixiem slid away. Bastard! He distracted me on purpose...but why?

Alaric held his breath as Aurelius began questioning Danan, "And where are you from my Spotted Lily?"

Danan started to reply but saw the grave concern in Germanicus' eyes, "Trill, milord."

"Trill?" Aurelius mused aloud, "I've never heard of it, but than again, your Federation has done its best to keep us uninformed."

A subtle shake of Alaric's head warned her off on this topic as well, "We've been just as ignorant of you, much to my current dismay."

"Don't fret, milady, you're safe now." Aurelius cooed, "Guards, I'll be taking this prisoner. Take her to the slaves' quarter and have the Matron of the House assign her quarters."

Alaric held his breath as two Praetorians stepped forward to herd Danan into the palace. Although the Trill looked like a human with enlarged freckles running down her temples and neck under her collar. Her eyes betrayed the youthful visage she wore. Her eyes held an ocean of time within them.

Germanicus breathed a sigh of relief as Danan passively accepted the guards' instructions and let them lead her into the palace. it was at this moment Aurelius declared; "Take these others to the Star Legion Command and let the interrogators have their with them. Those that refuse to co-operate will be sent to the games."

As a German, Alaric hated the games. As a Roman officer, he understood the necessity for the execution of enemies of the state and subversives. As the bulk of Germania above the Rhine still opposed Roman rule, the fighting there had endured for two thousand years. As the Roman Empire had expanded across the globe they met more enemies.

The Free Gauls, or Celts, in Eire and Scotsland still resisted the Roman yoke. Viking raiders, or Northmen, terrified Roman coastal settlements throughout the European and Asia Minor coastlines. The Han Empire of Chung Kao held sway over the entire Asian continent and the islands of the South Pacific providing Rome with her greatest challenge. Both empires had footholds in the uninhabited New World. Rome chose to colonise the North and Chung Kao the South.

Alaric had faced the Han and the Gauls before receiving command of the Star Legion. His record was spotless, but that offered little protection from the Emperor's increasingly erratic whims. Many had said that Aurelius was too sensitive as well as too young for the duties of Emperor. Alaric had never given much credence to the grumbling until he saw his Emperor dancing to the strings of an alien puppet master.

The boy emperor possessed the gawky lean frame of late adolescence. His raven hair curled around his face. Rumour had it the Emperor chafed under more than his duties. His closet was said to have more gowns than the entire collection of the Household courtesans who sat idly by and pleasured the occasional Praetorian or the favoured guest.

Alaric studied his Emperor's face as he beamed at Germanicus. The boy's nose was a little too large, his eyes too squinty, and his teeth too rodent-like. The Emperor's vanity demanded they cover his face with a computer-generated image during his weekly address to the empire. Ezixiem had been far too pleased to provide the technical toys required for this feat.

"Excellent work Admiral." Aurelius practically glowed with pleasure, "How can I reward you?"

Alaric mulled it over. He had no material wants. The only needs he had were for his troops. His troops and the mysterious alien beauty that had enchanted him. Of course, Ezixiem's demise would work just as well.

"Really Germanicus," Aurelius urged, "there must be something."

Alaric slowly nodded, "Two things."

"Well then, what are they?" Aurelius was beginning to lose his patience.

"I want celebrations for my men. The cruiser patrols can be rotated to allow a third of my crews to feast, a third on home system defence and the last third on outer patrol."

"If you hadn't suggested it, I would have." Aurelius crowed, "And now, for that second matter?"

"The alien prisoner you just selected," Alaric tread lightly on this topic, "if it pleases you, give her duties in the kitchen or anywhere else but do not make her a concubine."

"You fancy her?" Aurelius asked slyly.

"I respect her." Alaric corrected, "I've read her eyes, her will is unbreakable. She would kill whomever chose to take from her that which she alone can give."

"Very poetic Admiral." Aurelius, "Don't fret, I already have a plan. She will tutor my niece and my youngest sister. You don't think she'll kill children do you?

"No milord." Alaric replied with great relief.

"Good." Aurelius mused, "My great-grandfather's notes on this Federation is that they are peace-seeking cretins that will avoid bloodshed at any cost."

"He also listed an exception to that rule." Alaric reminded him, "The enforcement arm of the Federation."

"Yes... Starfleet." Aurelius gave Alaric a feral smile, "This time we're prepared for them, don't you think?

"Without a doubt." Alaric answered with genuine conviction.

"Let them come then and we shall rattle them to their very fibre." Aurelius said.

It was at that moment Alaric knew the Romans were going to war.

* * * * *

Chapter 6

* * * * *

Macen briefed Riker separately from the Investigative team in order to allow him time to observe the new recruits at their stations and to change uniforms. The ship's crew now wore the tan surface fatigues worn by Starfleet personnel from the 2270-2340s. A variant black mock turtleneck with matching boots and belt replaced the original white turtleneck undershirt. B'nner wore a sleeveless vest of his own devising. The Investigative team, excluding Riker, wore the Officer's moss-green version of the same uniform along with their standard utility belts and holsters. When the Investigative team heard the shocking news, they were disquieted but remained levelheaded. "Our first priority is the assessment of the Nova Roman capabilities. Secondly, we're to uncover any potential alien intervention. Thirdly, we're to neutralise any such intervention. And last but probably least, rescue any hostages held by the Romans."

Macen sighed and sunk into his seat, "Any questions?"

"How are we supposed to come out alive?" Dracas asked dryly.

"I know this is a challenge." Macen started to concede before being cut off.

"This is a job for a Starfleet starship." Radil grumbled, "Why aren't they handling it personally?"

"If you'd have paid attention earlier," Macen replied snidely, "You'd know that Starfleet doesn't even know this planet exists. We're expendable, so we can go in without the risk of locking permanently locking up valuable officers and specialists. For the Federation Security Council, it's a winner takes all scenario."

"And before anyone gets starts complaining about your assigned duties... Forget it. The duty roster stands. Dracas, Daggit, and T'Kir are part of my landing party. Grace, Daggit and Kort will remain aboard the ship. Tom will need veterans aboard to assist the ship's crew so don't even start complaining. That goes especially for you Radil."

Daggit shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "Sir, as team XO, I should..."

"...lead the away missions and hazardous duty contacts." Macen finished for him, "The only problem is that's Starfleet regulation and we're not Starfleet. This is my ship and I can do damn well whatever I please."

Daggit settled his enhanced bulk further into his seat as he bitterly digested Macen's decision. Rab had only just started becoming so insistent about protecting Macen. It made Macen wonder what Daggit knew that he didn't. He might have to hold Daggit after the briefing and find out the reason.

"We've overcome greater odds with less material and technical support." Macen reminded them, "We'll come back alive... or at least a reasonable facsimile of it."

"Now if no one else has any other items to raise, we'll dismiss from here so you can each greedily grab one of the padds on the table and succinctly breakdown each facet of the mission and the Nova Roman society in particular."

As the team members filed out, Macen softly called out, "Rab, could stay for a moment?"

"Of course." Daggit repli4ed, slipping into the stance his native military called, "at ease".

"Relax." Macen admonished his teammate; "I just want to ask you a question."

"Well, two actually." Macen amended as Daggit retook his seat.

"I never touched her, before or after the surgery." Daggit said immediately.

"Who, what? Macen stumbled a bit, "You never touched whom?"

"Radil." Daggit confessed tightly, "I once asked her out to dinner during a shore leave. She turned me down. That was the end of things."

"Then why did you assume that's what I wanted to discuss with you?"

"Thought she might've complained. She's been very vocal lately." Daggit surmised.

"My questions don't involve either you or Radil, but they do potentially effect the whole team." Macen warned him.

"Is this about you and T'Kir?" Daggit winced, "Because we pretty much know about you two."

"Know what?" Macen yelped, "Everyone seems to know more about the alleged 'us' than we do."

Daggit looked wretchedly discomfited, "I didn't know."

"It's alright. Neither did I." Macen grumbled bitterly, "Is this why you've been playing mother sehlat around me."

"Possibly sir." Daggit demurred.

"Don't 'sir' me, just answer the damned question." Macen growled.

Daggit heaved a sigh; "I'd like to see you live long enough to have another relationship."

Macen slumped in his chair, "I didn't realise my lack of romance was straining everyone."

"I seem to be the only one who's concerned. Grace is rooting for T'Kir's unannounced dreams to come true, Kort says, and I quote, 'you should simply break her, take her, and dump her' end quote." Daggit shook his head, "Nice, isn't he? Dracas is too busy building bombs to care and Radil is too busy ranting about humans to distract herself from the fact she now appears human and has her eye on Captain Riker."

"Radil?" Macen asked in surprise, "Who would have thought? Where was I?"

"The DMZ as I recall." Daggit replied dryly.

"Touché." Macen bowed his head.

"I'm surprised she didn't mention something to you then." Daggit admitted.

Macen shook his head; "I'm not. We were too distracted by the missing Maquis arms caches to spend a lot of time in reflection or interpersonal discussions. It didn't help that we were losing the chase throughout the entire ordeal."

"What chase?"

"Our initial scans revealed that the arms and ships were removed just before our arrival." Macen explained, "Most had been taken days before but two of them had been raided mere hours before we investigated the various hiding places."

"Any clues as to who's behind this?"

Macen frowned as he shook his head again, "None. We used every sensor the Corsair has looking for warp or impulse trails and exhausted our tricorders' battery packs scanning the actual sites. It was as if a massive hand had just picked everything up and put it down elsewhere."

Daggit began to worry. Macen wasn't known for his hyperbole. If the only evidence left behind evoked comparisons to some god-like manifestation, Daggit would believe it. The situation still begged one question.

"Who'd have motive for taking those weapons?"

"Lots of people I suppose." Macen replied, "There thousands of former Maquis and DMZ settlers that suffered under the Dominion's hands during the war. It probably wouldn't take much to convince some downtrodden colonist to strike back at the closest and weakest link of the Dominion's forces."

"Cardassia." Daggit drew the obvious conclusion.

"Although their turning sides at last minute hastened the end of the war, they spent most of it as an ally of the Founders. With the Jem'Hadar recapturing most of the world the Maquis had pushed the Cardassians out of, most of the settlers there worked at slave labour camps." Macen elaborated "The Maquis sabotaged the war effort as best they could while enduring massive losses. Starfleet's decision to by-pass the DMZ in its drive for Cardassia Prime was seen as a greater insult than the original formation of the Zone. The Federation's assurances to the Cardassian interim government that the Zone will remain intact may have been the final straw for the militant and moderate Maquis alike."

"I don't blame them." Daggit replied solemnly.

Macen could empathise with the Angosians pain. He'd been recruited by his home planet to undergo a mental and physical program intended to create super-soldiers designed to end Angosia's war with Tarsus. Daggit and his fellow soldiers achieved victory but once returned to their native populace, they could not shut down their quick, and often lethal, reactions to seemingly routine tasks and situations. All of the surviving enhanced soldiers were rounded up and locked away in a lunar prison.

That imprisonment cost Angosia its bid for Federation membership. That was until the Federation wanted those same enhanced soldiers. In exchange for aiding Starfleet, Angosia would receive their coveted membership. The soldiers were promised an end to their uncontrollable psychosomatic responses to threatening stimuli. Daggit had served with Macen during the Dominion and had sought out SID membership in order to serve under him again. Unlike the Starfleet commandos that quivered when Daggit and his fellows entered a room, Macen accepted Daggit just the way we was.

Rab also knew that Macen was pressing Starfleet for the promised cure. Having served Starfleet for eighty years Macen had quite a bit of clout and personal markers at his disposal. Daggit knew Macen would never willingly abandon one of his teammates. That was the one sure reason Daggit trusted Macen with his life.

"So," Daggit broke the silence, "this one will be rough?"

"The hardest we've ever attempted." Macen revealed, "But I think we'll be fine. I wouldn't have accepted the contract otherwise."

And that was enough for Daggit.

* * * * *

Lisea gazed about the quarters she'd been taken to. She'd already tried to find it predictably locked. She then turned her attention to the obligatory surveillance devices. After discovering eleven devices, two of which were obvious decoys, she gave up. From this point on, they'd earned the right to spy on her.

Her Roman observers were impressed. None of their other charges had so deftly eliminated all but one surveillance device, and it was the one they understood the least. This device had been a gift to Aurelius Romulus from Ezixiel. It moved about the room but was never seen.

Next, Danan carefully inventoried her assigned clothing. She found simple tunics and pants in earthy tones. Her sandals were simple and functional. Nothing here resembled the quarters of a Cardassian "comfort" woman.

She slipped out of her soiled and torn uniform. Her observers ogled as they discovered how much a Trill's spots covered. Danan eased herself into her bath and let the hot water ease her troubles. Tomorrow, she was told, she'd learn her new duties. Time enough then to spend the next few hours recuperating before planning her escape.

* * * * *

It took the Eclipse three days to reach Starfleet's designated border for the Roman territories. Debris from the various sensor drones could be found floating about every surrounding system. For the Romans to have destroyed every Federation drone encompassing that border was nothing short of a logistical miracle or evidence of undreamed of technical sophistication on the Romans' part. It was cause enough to stop and assess the situation.

"Anything on sensors?" Riker asked from the centre seat, "Any clue as to how many ships passed this way."

T'Kir double-checked her sensors, "By the plasma decay rate, I'd say three ships came through here almost a week ago and opened up with everything they had."

Riker looked towards Macen, who was reviewing the same data. Macen nodded assent to Riker, who swivelled his chair slightly to the right as he issued his next order, "Tactical, cloak the ship. Helm, lay in a course for Sigma 492 IV and execute it."

Grace and Radil carried out their respective orders and the Eclipse became the first Federation vessel to willingly penetrate Magna Roma's territory in over a century

It would take nearly another three hours to reach Sigma 492's system. In the interim, Dracas was schooling his two techs on the Eclipse's eccentricities. Daggit focused on Familiarising Sito with the tactical systems while Lucarno focused on learning the helm.

* * * * *

"You wanted to see me, my liege?" Germanicus knocked his arm over his chest as he came before the Imperial Throne. He did not bow, as most Imperial citizens were wont to do. The Admiral's victories had earned him a special dispensation. It cleared Germanicus of genuflecting Romulus in either of his roles: Emperor and Chief Priest of Magna Roma.

A century before when Jim Kirk and his landing party encountered the Nova Romans; their religious ideologies had just introduced their analogue to Earth's Christian movement. Where the might of Rome struggled against the Grace of Christ for over three centuries, Nova Roma embraced the new doctrine, if only to tame the messengers and modify the message. Barely a century later, the so-called Son of God merely stood alongside a pantheon of other gods. What took two thousand years on Earth had occurred within one hundred on Magna Roma.

"Come, Alaric," Romulus rose and stretched forth his head, "let us walk as we discuss pressing matters of state."

Germanicus' mind cried out "Red Alert" and his mental shields went up. Before Doric's death, Alaric had been a Court favourite and a frequent guest of the Emperor. He'd become a mentor to the Imperial Heir before the latter even lost his virginity to one of the courtesans. All of this had changed with Doric's untimely death and Ezexiem's rise to power and influence.

Alaric's role as mentor had ended with the Omricon's ascent to Chief Advisor. Point in fact, while Alaric had been appointed commander of the newly constructed Star Legions, he had been removed from the inner circle of Imperial favourites that shaped Roman life. The Roman Senate had been removed, in all but name, as well. Complaints were filed, petitions raised, decrees issued but the daily business of rubber stamping the Emperor's latest legislation continued unabated.

Alaric suspected Aurelius' growing distance stemmed from Ezexiel. The alien made no effort of hiding that he knew Germanicus detested him. Although Alaric made no moves to publicly denounce the Omricon representative, he'd levied enough complaints to his friends to persuade many of them of a duplicity within Ezexiel's motives and actions. Alaric's own posting as Admiral of the Star Legions placed him almost directly under Ezexiel's authority.

Despite the Roman constitution's proscribing non-citizens from military command, Ezexiel had suborned the Star Legions by placing them under his Advisory Commission on Foreign Stellar Nations. Since the Star Legions would be the first to fly the Roman eagle before aliens, they needed to be controlled by the very department created to facilitate such scenes. To Alaric it stank of removing the authority from its rightful wielder, the Emperor, and handing it over to the parasitic fob who now plagued Roman life. The longer things progressed, the more certain Alaric was of Doric's death at Omricon hands only he had no proof and proof was everything in the Roman courts.

"Certainly, your Excellence." Alaric half-bowed, "Might I make a suggestion?"

Aurelius look momentarily puzzled, then with a slight smile nodded his assent, "Speak your mind."

"Let us walk together as we did in days past." Alaric implored, "Let us walk as old friends, alone save your private guard. Let us discuss these pressing matters as men and not as a roving committee."

Ezexiel drew in a sharp breath of disapproval but Aurelius beamed with delight, "Excellent idea! It's been far too long since I talked with you, my oldest and dearest friend. Come with me, I know the perfect venue."

Aurelius stepped forward and Ezexiel moved to follow prompting the young emperor to turn on his heels, "What is it my Counsellor? Did you not hear me, or have you merely failed to understand? This evening is devoted to Germanicus, not to Omricon and all its fabled power. I choose to spend time with my neglected friend. Go skulk away into shadow as you do so well."

Alaric's heart swelled with pride at his former charge's words. Seeing the barely constrained wrath contorting Ezexiel's features, he also feared for his Emperor's life. Doric's last words had been ones of defiance to the aliens' faces. Judging from that, Aurelius may have just placed his life in his own hands.

"Sire, I'm concerned for your safety. Perhaps humiliating Ezexiel isn't the wisest course of action. Consider your father..." Alaric urged.

"I am far more cognisant of my father's fate than you shall ever be Admiral!" Aurelius snapped, "I at least know when to hold my tongue. Even these walls are privy to secrets best kept secret."

The mere knowledge that his former student recognised Ezexiel's fawning overt manipulations as well as his more insidious attempts was enough to warm the cockles of Germanicus' heart. If his emperor saw the evil, then he must also be developing a plan to thwart it. Good old-fashioned Roman discipline would serve here. Just as it had withstood every other test.

* * * * *

After several tense, but thankfully uneventful hours, the Eclipse entered into a high polar orbit over Nova Roma. Macen, T'Kir, Radil, Daggit and Dracas each began studying the Romans from the perspective of their individual specialities. Macen studied the social-political arenas, T'Kir, the information systems and infrastructure, Radil listened for the developmental shift from the common Latin origins of the language and adjusted the universal translators accordingly. Dracas deciphered architectural designs and industrial capacity while Daggit sought targets and evaluated potential enemies.

The rest of the crew kept the ship running and watched the skies around them, trying to remain unseen. After a day's work, the team met together as a group; Including Riker, who'd left Lucarno in command.

"As best as can be determined, captured aliens are brought before the Nova Roman Emperor. At this point, they are divided into three categories: slaves for the Imperial Household, private slaves for auction, and fodder for the gladiatorial pits. This means our missing scientists are already scattered across the Empire or dead. We need to focus our efforts on accessing their data networks, assessing their technology compared to the Richter Scale, and how they achieved their current level. Based upon those determinations, the big question becomes what is their intention towards the Federation, and if its hostile, what's their military capability?" Macen summed up, "As stated in our first briefing, I'll be leading a survey team comprised of Daggit, T'Kir and Dracas. No complaints will be heard and all protests can be shoved out an airlock. All team members will follow Radil to Stores to pick up the closest approximation she could whip up of native dress for our chosen landing sight."

"Where is that sight?" Riker asked.

"Their analogue of Marseilles." Macen replied immediately, "It's close enough to the capital to be privy to the latest gossip while being a port city and therefore used to strangers asking questions."

Riker glanced at the padd containing Macen's findings, "And their capital is named 'Magna Roma' and sits where Paris does on Earth?"

Macen shrugged, "An all too likely event if the Romans hadn't begun to rely so heavily on German conscripts and mercenaries. The during the Roman Empire's last few centuries, Roman Provinces provided the width and depth of service and culture that the Romans no longer seemed capable of providing. They forged an Empire but leadership soon passed to the conquered lands that became more Roman than the Romans themselves. While the Provincials strove to reshape the world in the Roman mould as they had been, the Romans sought to physically emulate the very Germanic tribes that would soon breach the Eternal City."

"Stop." Radil demanded, "No more. I already don't like looking human. I don't want to go around spouting their history too."

"But the burial of the Vandal leader, Alaric, is fascinating." Macen interjected, "His clansmen diverted a river, buried him, then redirected the river back to its original course. All so no one would ever be able to defile their greatest leader's remains."

"And why the hell would I need to know that?" Radil asked crankily, "Are we starting a mission or what?"

"As soon as your ready." Macen demurred.

"Prophets and Wraiths!" Radil swore, "I'd have been ready a lot sooner of you hadn't been giving a lecture in ancient Earth history."

"It could come in handy." Macen opined as they proceeded don the corridor.

"Like when?" she snapped as the turbolift doors closed.

"Like a timewarp." Macen rebutted, "Slingshot around the sun or any number of anomalies to yet be explained. You could suddenly find yourself in Roman times."

"For the lovva..." Radil growled as they exited the lift, "That's the biggest load of crap I've heard since..."

"The two-week notice clause on your contract with the Orion Syndicate?" Daggit offered.

"Hey friend," she whirled to face him, "this face is your doing. If you hadn't kidnapped me, I'd still look Bajoran."

"If you'd wanted to go back, you would have done so when given the opportunity." Daggit countered, "So spare us your whining."

Radil shot him an angry glare but remained silent. Instead she pulled out a bundle of clothes and handed it to each person. Following that, she handed everyone a modified utility belt/holster designed to conceal their weapons. Everyone took turns using the common head for Deck 3 to change clothes.

When they were all done, they each wore a variety of leathers, woollens, and synthetics. They wore a variety of coats, vests, and cloaks. T'Kir especially required the use her cloak's hood. All in all, the desired effect was achieved.

Stepping over to the transporter, Radil's features softened, "I'm sorry. I get really edgy before an op."

"No harm no foul." Daggit assured her before anyone else could speak.

Macen mirthfully eyed his Tactical Specialist; "You have the co-ordinates Jenrya?"

"Yessir." She replied.

"Then energise."

"Walk with the Prophets." Radil whispered as her teammates dematerialised.