Special Investigations Division
Pax Romana - Part 3
by Travis Anderson
(michelluthien@hotmail.com)

Pax Romana - Part 3

Chapter 7

The survey party materialised in a deserted alley adjacent to a main thoroughfare. Upon joining the street, they encountered their first glimpse of Roman life. Mechanised transports dominated central lanes skirted on either side by pedestrians. Thruster driven aerial vehicles and magnetically suspended ground units seemed to be the exclusive domain of military vehicles. Each proudly bore the Roman eagle and the mark of the Legion.

"Interesting." Daggit remarked, "By regulating the use of technologies, they've already segmented their society by giving a clear advantage to a certain portion."

"How nice for them." Dracas mumbled.

"Tactically, it's no wonder the dissenting broadcasts we caught rarely mention any significant headway against their foes. They have no means to compete with technology kept restricted from even the Roman citizenry."

"Sucks for them." T'Kir observed, "But how's that compute into our mission?"

"As a former Maquis, I'm surprised at your indifference." Daggit remarked, "If the Romans prove a threat, then the various rebels opposing them will prove an invaluable asset."

"That's why I'm indifferent." T'Kir snapped, "You don't see these peoples' causes, you just see a means to an end."

Daggit opened his mouth but Macen spoke before him, "Remember the mission people. We can settle any differences in interpretation later."

With that matter settled, or at least postponed, the quartet moved further along the highways and byways of Marseilles. As they walked along, military units passed by on a regular basis. The citizens frequently glared at the passing vehicles but did nothing to provoke the operators within. The Roman Imperium enjoyed peace but it was the peace of the sword.

Dracas pointed at a public terminal, "I think we can access the main data nets from there."

Dracas' prediction proved correct. The booth required payment in the local coin but T'Kir swiftly moved around that. The system was designed to allow free access to the military and the noble classes. After three minutes work, T'Kir deduced the necessary codes and entered the mainframe.

"Where do we want to go?" T'Kir asked.

* * * * *

"So you'll be travelling to this Magna Roma?" Riker asked. He was taking Macen's update from his Ready Room.

"Yes." Macen 's voice confirmed, "The Romans live under a highly centralised bureaucracy. If any of the Federation citizens survived, the bulk of them would have found themselves slaves in the households the nobility maintain in the capital."

"Or in the arena." Riker grimly reminded.

"Yes, but hopefully most of the scientists were smart enough to play the Romans' game and avoid that fate." Macen opined, "Unfortunately, there's no public records of the auction results. We'll have to access those from the local slaver franchise."

"Sounds like fun." Riker replied grimly, "Everything is all quiet up here. No one seems to have caught on that we're here. Despite some system troubles."

"What kind of troubles?" Macen asked with a tight voice.

"Minor systems mostly." Riker begged off, "Nothing to worry about. They've been good for testing Bruis and Thool's reaction times."

"Keep me informed." Macen didn't sound reassured, "That damn ship's balked too many times at an inopportune time. We can't afford to let it blow the mission. If it gets worse, beam us up and we'll withdraw and return by alternate means of transportation."

Riker cringed at scrapping his first command but nodded for his own benefit, "Roger that. When should I expect your next signal?"

"We'll try again in four hours." Macen told him, "Survey team out."

"Copy survey team." Riker replied, ending the transmission. Since coming aboard the Outbound Ventures' payroll, he'd commanded the quirky ship he was sitting in. Ju'day-class ships had a reputation for solid performance with increasingly eccentric performance behaviours as they aged. This ship was more eccentric than most, bordering on senile in fact, than most due to its retrofitted parts. It had never been designed with the thought of wielding the most powerful phaser batteries, warp core, and impulse engines known to Federation technology. If the Defiant-class had once been considered too overpowered for safe operation, then the Eclipse could be considered too powerful to remain intact.

As it was, the ship had repetitively blown systems during use. The team's last mission for the SID, proceeding Macen and T'Kir's scouting mission, had nearly resulted in disaster when the pulse phasers had failed directly after the cloak had dropped and fused every circuit within itself. On several occasions problems with both the warp and impulse engines had nearly ended mission at a critical juncture. Macen had sent the ship to Starfleet's SPYards with the request for a new ship. They had repaired the Eclipse and promised a replacement if needed. Riker hoped that wouldn't prove necessary.

* * * * *

"Sir, I've detected a transmission." Legion Communications Specialist Lucilla Canaris reported.

"We intercept thousands of messages every day." The surly Centurion of the watch growled, "What's so special about this one?"

"It's a subspace signal." Canaris explained, "Only the Star Legion as that technology. How would the barbarian rebels get a hold of that kind of equipment unless they had a mole inside of the Star Legion?"

The Centurion opened his mouth to reply but was surprised to hear another woman's voice instead, "They wouldn't. Excellent work Specialist, consider yourself promoted and on my personal staff as of this moment. Report to my command trailer after you tell me more of this mysterious signal."

The Centurion swallowed hard and moved out of the way of the twenty-something woman glaring imperiously at him. For she was Livia Germanicus, Commander of the Northern Legions. Her command was a tremendous achievement among men and unprecedented amongst women. Female service to the Legion had been one of Doric's reforms predating Ezexiel's first appearance. Livia's skill and her relation to Alaric Germanicus earned her command of the forces that faced off against her Germanic cousins, the Danelanders, the Northlandsmen, the Britons, Scots, Picti and the Eiremen.

Only the Eastern Legions surpassed the size of her command. They squared off against the united Persian and Han Empires.

As much as Livia wanted to promote the younger woman merely on her merits, it was also to make certain the little bitch did not discover the Commander's secret. Like her older sibling, Livia knew that despite his imperious name, Aurelius Romulus had traded his power away to the alien Ezexiel. Unlike her brother, Livia had set events into motion, events that would topple an emperor. Livia had approached the so-called Council of Free Peoples, a coalition of Rome's greatest enemies, and offered to dispose of the troublesome youth occupying the throne.

Livia knew the loose coalition's name was a misnomer at best. Some of the cultures represented treated their citizenry with far less dignity then they would have had under the Roman eagle. The leadership read like a who's who of Rome's hitless: Hwynn ab Hugh, the Celtic High King; Wotegang, the Free German Overlord; Sven Lofsen: High King of the Norseman; Chan Chiang, the Chung Kao Emperor; and Saladin, the Persian Caliph. All of these men were the most hated enemies of Rome. All of these men were her allies.

After centuries of warfare, all sides were ready to settle down and normalise trade and diplomatic relations. It had been difficult convincing her erstwhile allies of her sincerity and of her lack of desire to occupy the Roman throne upon its vacancy. In the end, it took her most powerful ally and friend in this venture to assure the foreign rulers of their safety. Having an Imperial Senator on your side always aided your cause, having Flavius Brutus on it assured it.

Brutus' honour and reputation were renowned throughout the settled world. His oath bound them all to a common cause. At Livia's signal, the Northern Armies would march on Magna Roma accompanied by the Celts, Norse, and Free German forces. The Slavs, Persians and Han would also attack and the Zulus would attack the Egyptian fields and canals. Overwhelmed by the tide of synchronised pressure, the Legion would crack and the Northern Army would be the first to ever attack Magna Roma.

All of these plans, however, depended on co-ordination. If her subspace array and messages were discovered too soon, it would ruin everything. It was far better to reel in her young tech and subvert her to the cause or eliminate her altogether. Both options were equally satisfactory to Livia. She was already committed to waging war against her fellow Legionnaires, slaying one a little early was a trifling matter unworthy of her time.

"Commander, the signal originated in or near Marseilles and was received by an orbital position." Lucilla explained.

"An orbital position?" Livia asked.

"Yessir." Lucilla replied crisply, "From the tracking record I made of its response and reception points, its path covers the northern pole and it makes rapid orbits that would allow it access to the entire northern hemisphere of the planet."

This is the last thing I need, Livia mentally groused, "Can you identify the vessel?"

"Negative. Nothing appears on our scopes." Lucilla replied.

Damnation! This was an Omricon plot if there ever was one. Livia fumed, "Upload your findings to the Command Staff of the Star Legions. They'll know how to deal with this mystery. We have enough problems right here on the ground."

"Yes, Commander." Lucilla replied brightly.

It'll be a damned shame to kill this one, Livia observed, Too bad it's unavoidable.

* * * * *

The SID survey team made their way towards the central railway depot. Magnetically suspended and driven trains dominated the mass transit system. Subsidised by the heavy levies and restitutions imposed vanquished foes, the Romans' own infrastructure demanded they go to war. Smaller versions of the trains ran throughout a maze-like warren of tunnels. This style dominated modern Roman architecture and city planning.

They'd taken two of the three subways required to reach the train depot from their original position. The first mag-rail car was a study in the Roman free plebeian class as well as household slaves entrusted with duties beyond their masters' property. The second car proved far more revealing when a young Ferengi came aboard bearing the bounty from his excursion to the markets. He briefly glanced in the direction of the survey team and froze. The Ferengi recovered by whistling to himself and staring at a slightly out of place bolt in the ceiling. Macen wished he could thank the Ferengi about his warning regarding the surveillance devices but it could wait. As the team disembarked, T'Kir dropped some currency she'd "liberated" from the Imperial Bank into the Ferengi's basket.

Stepping out into the courtyard was an immersion of smells. The dockyards where they'd initially set down had been a literal ocean of smells. Their second stop had been near the oldest section of town and reeked of decay and human consumption. Disease and delight ran their course there without restraint.

Here, at the mag-rail depot, the smells ran the gamut of the Empire's breadth and width in order to accommodate citizens from those same far-flung corners. Lutefish and glutefish boiled in pots alongside each other. Peppered meats from Byzantium hung beside lamb chops from Britannia. Slavic sausages contrasted German rye bread. It was an idyllic scene of one ignored the armoured troopers milling about every train car, examining papers.

Macen looked towards T'Kir, "I didn't know. I'll need another terminal and about ten minutes."

"There's one." Daggit pointed without ever removing his steady gaze from any of the soldiers. Sometimes even he had to admit his enhanced abilities were desirable. T'Kir accessed the system as easily as before but now had to build an entire cover for each member of the team, including genetic records. Since none of the team members were human, she had to hack the central security system and create an override to disengage the alarms of the individual hand units. She'd nearly finished this task when a massive explosion rocked the plaza.

Three of the ten rail cars erupted into molten shrapnel. The Legion barracks next to the magnetic tracks was pulverised, the men and women instantly killed. The same could not be said for the Legionnaires out in the plaza. The transparent aluminium booth surrounding the public access terminal had spared the survey team. T'Kir blinked at several large and steaming shards embedded at her eye level. Strangely, not one of the shopkeepers had been present when the explosions occurred.

Several of the proprietors were now returning, but Daggit tensed up. Macen noticed the shop owners were wielding some form of weapons. They fired luminescent burst into the rare struggling body of a survivor.

"Plasma guns." Dracas marvelled, "I'd love to get my hands on one of those museum pieces."

"You may get your chance." Macen informed him, "Only it might be from the working end."

"How'd they pull this off?" Dracas wondered.

"They must have substituted their people for the normal shop owners." Daggit surmised, now they're performing 'double-taps'."

"Double whats?" Dracas asked.

"Double-taps." Daggit explained, "An ancient military tradition where the standing group of soldiers ensures the fallen soldiers are truly dead by shooting them in the head. It's a practice that pre-dates most spacefaring races in the Alpha Quadrant."

"That'd explain the coffee lady." T'Kir mused aloud. "The what?" Dracas asked.

"The elderly woman who was complaining about her coffee." T'Kir tones revealed she thought the question was inane, "She tried to order coffee, but prepared a specific way. The man didn't know how and she ranted about how Julius knew how to make it."

"Speed it up." Macen quietly urged.

"The point being, Julius chose today to be the first time in ten years to not operate his shop himself." T'Kir, "D'you think that significantly testifies to these peoples technical sophistication?"

"You heard all that?" Daggit asked.

"And a lot more." She confirmed.

"And everyone's thoughts?" Dracas inquired.

"Screened a few, blocked the rest."

"Now that's a helluva thing." Dracas remarked. in awe

"It ain't easy being cheesy." T'Kir bragged.

"What?" both Dracas and Daggit asked.

""We need to go." Macen interrupted, "They've spotted us."

The others saw a half dozen men and women cautiously approaching with weapons at the ready. The SID tem members slowly exited out of the booth in single file. They were lined up and patted down. Their phasers and non-energy weapons were taken and shown to the obvious leader.

"Who are you?" he demanded, "Are you more Praetorians sent to enforce the alien's will upon us?"

"Not exactly." Macen answered, "T'Kir?" T'Kir threw her hood back, revealing the upswept curves of her ears.

"You're like the 1st One." The leader gasped, he turned to Macen; "That would make you the Chaplain."

"Pardon me?" Macen replied in surprise.

"The Chaplain, the 1st One and the Holy Healer." The Roman explained, "Those that followed after the Son, that taught us the Truth of Resistance. It has been our Crusade ever since to free the people of all nations from the shackles of Rome and particularly from the evils of Ezexiel and his kin."

"What's he talking about?" Dracas inquired.

"The Chaplain, the 1st One and the Holy Healer are their names for the Captain, 1st Officer and Chief Medical Officer. They relate to James Kirk, Spock, and Dr. McCoy."

"So now I'm Mr. Frinxing Spock?" T'Kir protested, "I want off this team."

"I don't understand." The Roman asked in confusion.

"We loosely represent the same government Kirk and his officers spoke of while here. We've been sent to assess the impact of that encounter upon your society." Macen explained.

"The impact?" the man asked, "Millions of our fellow citizens have been converted to the Faith. We Crusaders carried the torch alone for decades but now we have a plan and a way. Our only fear has been the demon alien and our own star forces. But now that concern is gone."

"Why?" Macen asked ruefully.

"Now you're here." The Crusader explained, "And you will deal with those forces. Victory is finally at hand!"

Macen wanted to protest but T'Kir urgently spoke up, "I'm hearing several magnetically propelled vehicles that sound like those tanks we saw earlier."

"We need to go now." Macen urged the Roman; "My team needs their weapons back."

The Roman reverently handed them over, "That passageway leads to the main thoroughfare, it will still be possible to escape. Go with God and be safe from evil."

"Fates and Prophets guide you." Macen returned, causing the man to beam with delight.

Zealots, Macen mentally sighed; they're always up for a new flavour of extremism.

There had been a time in El-Auria's distant past when Macen's people had utilised their native listening skills to others and detect probabilities in conjunction with their ability to sense the nearby non-linear lifeforms. Macen personally suspected that either the Prophets or the Pah-Wraiths represented another extension of the beings his people had once worshipped as gods. As the El-Aurians had grown more sophisticated and skilled with their abilities, they'd grown to understand their "gods" were merely a different form of life. While Macen could intellectually empathise with the Romans' desire to believe in benevolent deities, he wasn't ready believe on the basis of faith alone. Trust had to be earned. The known entities closest to god/s were the Q Continuum and Macen would prefer dying an atheist rather than worship that brood of omnipotent nincompoops. No sooner had he completed these thoughts than his team had found the entrance to the alleyway the Roman Crusader had directed them to. It was also when the first Roman tank hovered it's way into the plaza. A ceramic half-clamshell with a smaller clamshell atop it, the upper clamshell possessed a Type-5 phaser cannon analogue mounted within it. The lower section possessed four plasma cannons mounted equally around the circumference of the disk. The turret had two biaxial plasma guns as well as a third anti-aircraft cannon.

As the first tank ripped into the Crusader's ranks with its small arms, the second tank arrived. At this point, two sub-impulse fighters began to rain fire upon the hopelessly outgunned rebels. Dracas stopped running to attach an ovular device to the barrel of his phaser. As the fighters made another pass, he fired. An egg shaped missile flew off the end of his phaser and tracked the fighter. Even though it lacked the fighter's fuel supply, it overtook the fighter and killed it as its proximity sensor triggered the detonation fuse.

Early on in the Bajoran Resistance, the rebels had discovered that shoulder fired chemically propelled rockets easily eluded Cardassian sensors set to seek personal anti-matter and isomagnetic warheads. Over time, the technology shifted, allowing the warheads to be fired from the barrel of a particle weapon rather than from a dedicated launch vehicle. Dracas had studied the Bajoran designs and condensed them to palm-sized monuments to miniaturised destruction.

As the first sub-impulse fighter descended in flames, the tank turned towards Dracas. Another missile slammed into the tanks, destroying the commander's cupola.

Dracas turned to wave thanks to Daggit, who'd fired the first of his three missiles.

Dracas attached his second as Daggit reloaded as well. Daggit fired at the incoming fighter while it was still beginning its strafing run. Its burning wreckage landed amidst the destroyed rail cars.

Seeing what was transpiring, Macen called out to T'Kir; "Go! I'll gather up our lost lambs and catch up."

Seeing her hesitation, he yelled, "Dammit! Get going already."

Macen ran back towards his wayward men. Dracas had already expended another missile as the Romans tried to bring another tank in. It lay on its side, gutted and in flames. Macen cursed. They'd come to this world to conduct a survey, not fight a war. If they couldn't obey orders or mission protocols, then they'd better get used to living off the Federation dole.

As Macen cleared the alley and entered the debris strewn plaza, his worst fears were confirmed. Roman ground troops were rushing in en masse. Escape, much less survival, was swiftly looking increasingly unlikely. Pulling his own phaser free of its holster, Macen made his way towards Dracas and Daggit.

The Romans' armour shielded them from plasma bolts but it only deflected the lower stun settings of particle weapons. The swords they carried, it was proven, were far too effective to be merely ceremonial. Their particle weapons were nearly identical to those wielded by Terrans during their first deep-space explorations. If the Nova Romans truly did derive from seed stock plucked from Earth, the irony eerily smacked of convoluted destinies.

Macen reached the duo as the First Roman soldiers came within the Romans' weapon's range. Streamed phaser fire felled the Romans' first rank. Macen yelled for the other two men to follow. As they turned, they saw Romans approaching from the very alley that had been their way of escape. There was no sign of T'Kir, so Macen retained the hope she escaped.

A particle blast caught Dracas in the back, stunning him. Daggit dispatched the two soldiers bravely charging. Macen opened fire upon the alleyway. Most of the Romans were pinned but through the courageous efforts of Legionnaires willing to risk injury, Macen was stunned. Daggit's heightened reflexes and metabolism allowed him to fight on for far longer but eventually he too was brought down.

Afterwards, the amazed Roman Commander inspected the SID teammember's weapons, "Alert the Star Legions and the Praetorians. We have aliens in our midst."

Chapter 8

Frinx! T'Kir swore silently to herself as she hurried away from the Legionnaires headed don the alleyway she'd just left. Macen, Daggit and Dracas hadn't made it out, and probably never would now. She needed to go underground and stay free to track their movements. So far, the closest thing to an underground movement she'd encountered was the religion oriented Crusaders. As much as she feared relying upon anyone, she needed to find another group of the rebellion minded zealots.

T'Kir understood revolutionary zeal. Often, it was the only thing that had kept the Maquis going. She'd even experienced it once or twice, but never regarding anything remotely religious. She'd watched the Bajorans deal wrestle with the faith in the Prophets. Faith seemed to provide more pain than comfort.

Okay, enough of this moping, she advised herself. Seeing another data terminal, she stepped into the line to use it. Most just wished to check in with family or friends and left quickly. The man before her, however, droned on and on to his companion about how relieved he was that they were safe. T'Kir politely reminded him of the line several times before she applied a nerve pinch and cut the comm line.

She received several cheers to along with the clapping of hands. She turned to take a little bow and activated the terminal. She found what she wanted within a few moments. Despite the danger of staying too close to the scene of the recent disturbance, T'Kir had found and procured temporary lodgings for the evening. The inn promised access to the Roman Central Net with which she could continue her search for allies.

* * * * *

Radil watched closely as Riker shamelessly flirted with Sito. Luckily, the younger woman seemed well versed in such tactics and merely played along out of amusement. A telltale on her board sounded suddenly. The Roman communications activity had more than doubled over the last five minutes. She tried to isolate a channel and eavesdrop as to what was suddenly so important.

"Captain," Grace interrupted Riker's attempts, "three Roman vessels have suddenly moved into position around us."

"Sito, what's the status on the cloak?"" Riker inquired.

"All systems read fully functional." Sito reported.

"Sir, four more ships have set up a secondary perimeter." Grace informed him unhappily, "They're setting up a cordon."

"Can you get us out?" worry tinged Riker's voice.

"If we leave right now." she answered grimly.

"Now we know they uncovered the ground team." Lucarno remarked.

"They've also penetrated the cloak." Radil observed, "We might as well forget that and regain the use of our shields and weapons."

"Agreed." Riker nodded, "Engineering, we may be in for some bumps."

"We'll hold things together for you Cap'n." B'nner grunted.

Riker clapped his hands together, "All right then. Grace, when I give the word, set your course and get us out of here. Sito, as she does so. drop the cloak and power all tactical systems."

Both women acknowledged their orders and inputted last minute instructions into their consoles before Riker gave the order, "Execute on three... two... one!"

The Eclipse banked hard as Grace applied the thrusters. Next, she jumpstarted the impulse engines to full power. Rather than trying to navigate through the encircling Roman cruisers, Grace slipped below one of the closest ships and committed the scout to a slingshot manoeuvre ending in an escape vector out of the system.

The four ships comprising the outer picket line were caught unawares but still responded swiftly enough threaten the fleeing Eclipse. The closest rained phaser fire upon the scoutship. Riker returned fire but refused to use either his torpedoes or his pulse phasers, They still had a long way to go to escape Nova Roman space and revealing their full weapons compliment this early in the game would remove potential advantages later.

Fortunately, none of the other ships were in position to fire before the Eclipse went into warp. She was faster than any Roman craft, so she need not fear pursuit from Nova Roma itself. However, that still left the Roman patrols between them and the border. Another difficulty was that the Eclipse had taken some severe damage in her flight towards freedom. Among the most critically damaged systems was the cloaking device, which would render them visible to the entire Roman fleet all the way to the border.

* * * * *

Macen slowly awoke. Aches and pains permeating every pore in his body reminded him of his last moments of consciousness. Dracas had fallen to a phaser beam. Macen went to him to check whether or not the engineer was still alive. No sooner had he confirmed that Dracas was still alive when he himself was struck down by a Legionnaire's blast.

This proved an embarrassment since Macen had escaped capture by the Borg, the Cardassians, the Breen, the Tholians, the Andergani and the Dominion with barely a scratch to show for it. Accepting his lesson in humility for what it was, Macen started the long, slow process of shifting to an upright position on the cot he was currently occupying. In all likelihood, the procedure did not take as long as it felt but such was the illusion cast by pain. Fortunately, the discomfort ebbed as he neared his goal.

"Here's too not reliving that experience." He muttered

He sat there letting his head clear when he heard the tromping of boots. Well, they're not wasting any time are they? He thought wryly. Obviously his captors had him under close observation. Not surprising since the Romans displayed the worst case of xenophobia behaviour encountered since the Zeon Holocaust at the hands of the Ekosians.

Perhaps too surprising here was the inadvertent interference by a Federation citizen. Historian John Gill had not intended to create a brutal regime of hate and terror when he helped remould Ekosian society on the Nazi model but the inevitable took its toll and Ekosia's neighbour, Zeon, paid the price. If not for the intervention of the USS Enterprise under James Kirk's command, Ekosia would not have rested until it murdered every Zeon man, woman and child. Afterwards, there would be no where else to go but out into the stars to repeat the pattern. Unless of course, they encountered a stronger race that repaid them in kind.

Macen's train of thought was broken by the arrival of two Roman soldiers. The man appeared to be of classic Roman lineage but the woman's red hair gave away her foreign ancestry. Judging by their uniforms, they belonged to the Star Legions rather than the Praetorian Guard or the regular Legions. Their hands nervously twitched near their weapons but they refrained from pulling them free from their holsters and scabbards, at least for now. Judging by their nervousness, neither of them had many dealings with offworlders. He couldn't say that surprised him much when the few ships that skirted the quarantine barrier around Nova Roman space were captured and their crews enslaved.

"You will come with us." the woman said through a heavy burr.

Since his universal translator had been confiscated along with the rest of his gear, Macen wondered if these two had been chosen to escort him because of their ability to speak English, also known as Federation Standard. As he followed them through the labyrinth composing the dungeon he currently resided in, he idly wondered if this was a specialised skill. As divided as this world remained, language specialists would be a prized intelligence asset. It could also explain the uncomfortability his two guards displayed towards their own weaponry.

They led him to a thick steel door at the end of the hallway and shoved him against the wall. One unlocked the door with a set of keys while the other kept his weapon trained on Macen. The weapons man glanced towards the door as it opened. Fates, but they're sloppy, Brin thought to himself as they directed him to step into the room. The door slammed shut behind him as he passed the threshold.

Well isn't this cosy? He thought as he looked around. The room was built along the lines of a rectangular briefing room. There was a table with chairs all around it. One chair at the end of the table possessed restraints and mounts, presumably for torture devices. The fact that the guards hadn't tied Macen down bespoke of special treatment. No torture probably meant that he and his team presented more of a mystery than a threat in the Romans' thinking. He'd have to be careful to maintain that status.

The locks to the door released and it swung open, revealing two figures. The first was human, fair skinned and very tall. The second stood a head taller than the 7' tall human and could not be confused with anything remotely human. The alien possessed obsidian-like skin and rugged, almost jagged, features.

Ah, the secondary source of cultural contamination, Macen deduced.

"Welcome to Magna Roma." the human said in passable English, "I assume you are yet another one of our spaceborne 'cousins' to visit our planet."

"Not exactly." Macen replied.

"What does that mean?" The human demanded, "What manner of men are you? One of your men withstood ten particle blasts before succumbing."

"I hate to inform you, but none of us are human." Macen informed him, "We're just fortunate or unfortunate enough to look like one."

"How can this be true?" The human asked.

"Convergent evolution." the alien spoke at last in the same tongue, "His species is different though, his infrared signature differs from your kind."

"Where are you from?" The human inquired.

"You wouldn't recognise the name if I told you." Macen advised.

"Tell us." the alien answered, "You have no concept of what we know."

Macen had the impression the alien was excluding the Roman beside him in his use of the word "we".

"Let us wait a moment, Ezexial." the human cautioned, "Civility has proven far more effective in obtaining information from these Federation types than force. Hostility will only derail our purpose here."

"You are a fool Alaric Vandalius." snarled the alien, now revealed as Ezexial, "This one is not like the others. He is well practised in deceit. It ekes from his very core."

"Nonetheless," Alaric replied through gritted teeth, "he is an alien, not unlike yourself, and therefore under the jurisdiction of my Star Legions, not your wastrel Praetorians."

Curiouser and curiouser, Macen thought, invoking the immortal words of Alice. They truly despise one another. How can I use this to my advantage?

"Gentlemen, if you please." Macen interrupted Ezexial's sure to be angry retort, "It's true that I'm your prisoner, but I'm not your enemy."

"Then why were collaborating with the Crusaders?" Ezexial demanded to know, "Have you been sent to assassinate the Emperor?"

"No." Macen answered truthfully, "It seems to me that plenty of people want to do that all ready. Personally, I never met the man and bear no ill will against him. My mission here is simple: I'm looking for a group of Federation citizens that recently disappeared near your system."

"Is that your only mission?" Alaric asked, wearing a pensive expression.

"No." Macen ignored Ezexial's derisive snort of triumph, "I'm also to determine how much cultural contamination was caused by Merrick and the officers of the Enterprise."

"You see!" Ezexial gloated, "He is a spy. I've warned you that extraterrestrials cannot be trusted."

"Yet you insist that we can trust you and your kind." Alaric shot back, "What makes you so different?"

"We are far older than these children." Ezexial answered in menacing tones, "We have seen and accomplished more over the millennia than these pups will ever dream of. We are here to assist you in realising your potential... nothing more, nothing less."

"We don't need your help." Alaric replied angrily.

"Your emperor disagrees," Ezexial gloated, "So we shall remain."

"Gentlemen, is this something you wish to discuss in front of me?" Macen chimed in.

"He is correct. He has heard too much. We must execute him." Ezexial declared.

"No!" Alaric snapped, "If any harm comes to him or either of his men, Aurelius shall hear of it. Let us see how long you soil our world after that."

Ezexial smiled, it was far chillier than his scowl; "Ah, I appreciate your open contempt Vandalius. It is far more refreshing than the skulking of his kind."

"I must ask you one final question for now." Alaric informed Macen, "How many other troops did you bring? How many are free?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't know how many you captured." Macen deflected the question.

"Two." was Alaric's response.

"Than you've captured all of my survey party." Macen lied, all too aware of Ezexial's piercing gaze.

"And your ship?"

"Flown away to await our signal to come in for retrieval." Macen lied again with still no response from the foreboding alien.

"Very well then." Alaric rose, "You will be returned to your cell. There you will be fed and rested before our next meeting."

"And when will that be?"

"After I report to the Emperor and find out what he wants to know from you." Alaric revealed.

With that, Ezexial's smile widened.

* * * * *

T'Kir has secured lodgings in a local flophouse that offered comm and network access. Her first action was to strip the blonde tint from her hair. Reverted back to her natural raven locks, she opted to also cut them as well. She retained the length on top but tapered the back along the nape of her neck. The longer length on top allowed her to retain a feminine edge while also providing emergency cover for her ears.

Next, she logged onto the central database network. Customising the interface controls, she carefully constructed firewalls and tapeworm programs to erase any sign of her having entered a system. Once this painstaking labour was completed, she plunged headlong into the data streams.

T'Kir had several false starts before accessing the database with the information she sought. Macen, Daggit, and Dracas were being held at the Imperial Palace. There were also voluminous files on the Crusaders and other, foreign foes of the Empire. Taking her first bite from the meal she'd ordered from the host's kitchen, she buckled down in earnest and began researching the Roman Empire's enemies list.

Getting dressed, she reviewed the list displayed on the padd she'd brought. The list was voluminous. It seemed every independent nation remaining on this ersatz Earth was at war with, or openly hostile towards, Rome; or to be exact, Nova Roma (ie: Terran Paris). Those not at war were generally client nations who earn4ed peace through tribute. These nations included Brittania (the United Kingdom), Germania (Germany and Austria), Norseland (Scandinavia) and Russka (Russia). The nations engaged in outright hostilities included Zululand (Southern Africa), Chung Kao (China, Korea, Mongolia, and Japan), and the Incan and Mayan Empires of North and South America. Those not at war wished to be. The only problem was that no one seemed capable of uniting them. Or was there?

T'Kir never completed that thought as a heavy handed thudded against her door and a harsh voice demanded entrance. The Legionnaires! her mind shouted, wondering how they'd penetrated her cyber defences to trace her here. Quickly strapping on her utility belt, she scooped up her padd and returned it to its pouch. She briefly considered pulling her phaser out but decided against it. Hand to hand would serve better in such cramped quarters

* * * * *

"There's one coming about!" Sito Jaxa shouted in alarm.

"I've got him." Radil snarled, "Dammit! I missed. Grace, I need another pass."

"Don't want much do you?" Grace mumbled as she threw the Eclipse into a violent tumble that aligned both of their Nova Roman attackers directly in the sights of the fore and aft torpedo launchers.

"Yesssss!" Radil hissed in bloodthirsty anticipation as she depressed the firing button for the torpedoes. The computer took over and auto-fired both banks until the enemies' shields and structural integrity collapsed.

"Good job people." Riker commended, his status board showing the surrounding area of space littered with crippled Roman craft, "Now let's get out of here and make repairs before they call up reinforcements."

"Aye, aye, O' Captain my Captain." Grace replied as she laid a course into the Conn.

* * * * *

T'Kir braced as the door slid aside to reveal an awaiting Legionnaire. The armoured trooper charged her while waving a stun baton. T'Kir sidestepped while slipping her arm inside of his weapons arm. Sweeping his leg, she deftly dropped him to the floor while lifting the baton from him. She then applied its potency against him.

Watching the stricken Roman spasm and writhe, she cocked an eyebrow; "Cool."

The remaining Legionnaires, enraged by their comrade being handily dispatched, rushed forward as a mob. Wearing a feral grin, T'Kir launched into action. She met the first head on, jabbing him in the nose with the baton. As she whirled away, she thrust the baton under the armour plating of one his comrades and activated it. Next, she blocked a swing from the third man, which she used a nerve pinch on.

The last man threw his baton down and came at her in a ready stance. This man, she realised, was an experienced hand to hand combatant. They exchanged lightening quick blows, blocks and jabs before T'Kir bored and utilised her full Vulcan strength. Grabbing the Roman's breastplate, she hurled him across the room into the outer wall.

Not even having raised a sweat, T'Kir calmly strode out of her room and made her way to the inn's lobby. Having paid her bill in advance, not to mention the bribe the owner undoubtedly received, she left without any qualms. As she walked, she recalled the data she'd reviewed and her thoughts on one person unifying the various factions vying against Rome. At first glance no one seemed to fill that role. On further reflection, there seemed to be an unindentified source acting out the part. T'Kir's new priority was to unroot that person or persons and persuade them to rescue Macen.

* * * * *

"Are you certain this moon is safe enough?" Riker inquired.

"Certainly." Grace replied, "It's outside of Roman territory, tectonically stable and has plenty of kelbanite caves to masque the ship's power signature."

"Take us down then." Riker ordered.

Grace began the delicate landing procedure. The ship slowly descended through the atmosphere, keeping the shields raised in order to deflect the inevitable friction. As the Ju'day slid through the clouds, its wings levelled out to form an aerodynamic wedge on which to glide. This further stabilised the craft, granting greater manoeuvrability.

Scanning along the planet's surface as she guided the ship further down, Grace found what she was looking for. She lowered and slowed the craft until it hovered before a mammoth cavern. Next she rotated the ship 180 degrees and toggled the viewer to a rear view. Nudging the manoeuvring thrusters, she backed the ship into the cave.

Once in, she released the manoeuvring jets and activated the landing thrusters. These gently lowered the ship until the landing skids touched the ground. Automatic sensors registered this change and deactivated the thrusters, letting the ship's full weight fall on the skids. Hydraulic pistons tensed as the ship settled atop them, granting the Eclipse's passengers a levelled platform in which to work.

"Good work, Hannah." Riker praised, then activated the intercom; "All right people, thanks to Grace we have a safe haven in which to make repairs. Let's use it and get back in this fight. Riker out."

"And what will you be doing while the rest of us are fixing things?" Radil inquired suspiciously.

"Figuring out where to go from here." Riker replied flatly.

Chapter 9

Hal Dracas awoke to find his head throbbing like a poorly aligned plasma injector. It didn't make him very happy. Even worse, he could still remember why his head and body ached. The memory of over a dozen Roman soldiers firing on Daggit while Dracas slipped in and out of consciousness disturbed him even further.

Although Daggit hadn't a clue, Dracas had secretly admired the younger man for several months now. No one aboard (except maybe Macen and T'Kir, there was no telling how much they knew about anything) had a clue as to Dracas' sexual proclivities. Although the Federation claimed tolerance for any and all lifestyles, they also tolerated the same Ardannian prejudices that labelled his mores a deviancy. That, in Dracas' opinion, made the Federation partially responsible for the ongoing intolerance on his native world. He had been born the man he was, with the notable exception of his appearance, and no amount of discrimination could alter that.

Daggit himself remained rather ambiguous in his stated preferences but his continued attention towards Radil said quite a bit. Dracas pitied Daggit in his pining over what was clearly a lost cause. Radil favoured both Tom Riker and Kort over any other men and women on the team. Young Hannah Grace, however, would gladly succumb to any courtesies Daggit paid her. Dracas often wondered how such a gifted tactician could be so blind emotionally.

Daggit would never know of Dracas' true feelings for him. No man ever would. Although Dracas had long come to terms with his sexuality, his homeworld had not. Homosexual Troglytes were routinely executed, yet strangely, gay Stratosians were not. If Dracas' nature were discovered by his native authorities, he'd be drug home in irons and placed on the executioners block. All while the wretched Prime Directive ensured that neither Starfleet nor the SID would do a thing about it.

There was no telling what Macen might do, however. Dracas respected the Mission Commander. Macen did his best to take care of his people no matter the personal costs to himself. He'd been forced to leave Starfleet because of this, which only made him an even more effective agent for them.

Speaking of whom, it was time for Dracas to discover if his compatriots were alive. He approached the barred door of his cell and tested the lock. He studied it for a moment and realised he had nothing available with which to pick it. He hadn't been this helpless since the Andergani had... No. Best not to think about that. Focus on the task at hand.

"Commander Macen? Daggit?" Dracas called out, "Is anyone there? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine Dracas." Daggit's voice came back, "But Macen's been separated from us."

"Rab?" Dracas asked excitedly, his hopes rising; "Is that really you?"

"Yeah," Daggit replied forlornly, "it's me."

"Are you hurt?" Dracas inquired, trying to mask the true depth of his concern.

""No." Daggit replied morosely.

"Then what's wrong?" Dracas was confused.

"I failed." Daggit snarled, "I failed Macen and I failed you. We were captured and then separated. Who knows what these butchers are doing to Macen right now."

"As long as we're alive, there's hope." Dracas declared with more confidence then he felt.

"Strange sentiments coming from you, Chief." Daggit's sense of humour flickering to life, "Normally you're the dour one."

"I learned something during my recent... difficulties." Dracas explained, "As long as you're alive, they haven't won. As long as they haven't won, you still can."

A lengthy silence proceeded Daggit's reply, "Wish you could've been on the Tarsian Front with us Chief."

Despite his silence, Dracas concurred for entirely separate reasons.

* * * * *

Livia stood before the huge comm screen in the mobile HQ of the Roman Armies of the North. The screen was divided into several smaller screens for a conference call literally spanning the globe. The other participants were not other Roman generals, however, but the leaders of every free empire and disgruntled client nation across Nova Roma. This meeting would have been of utmost interest to the Praetorian Guard since it was a planning session for the dismantling of the Roman Empire.

Livia Germanicus saw herself as a patriot rather than a traitor. The Emperor had been deceived, and ultimately brainwashed, by aliens. Livia planned to liberate Magna Roma from this corruption. If she had to give away a few provinces in the process, so be it. The peace achieved by this bartering would enable the Empire to regain its former solidity. Her current "allies" would grovel before her soon enough.

That is, she amended to herself, if I can get them to stop bickering long enough to accomplish anything.

"Gentlemen! Lady!" she finally yelled out in frustration, "Enough!"

That drew everyone up short. Livia had always made a point of not losing her temper during these conference calls. They were so close to the fruition of their layered scheming that she couldn't help it. She wasn't about to let these various imbeciles throw everything away now.

"Listen here," she snapped, "we're almost ready to topple our common foe and yet here you stand ready to throw all our work away. I will not allow this to happen!"

The imaged leaders all shrank back from her wrath. She allowed herself a slight smile of satisfaction. It was no wonder none of these "great" and "noble" leaders had done little more than delay the Roman acquisition of their lands. The lot of them were nothing but squabbling barbarian whelps. She could tolerate their incessant feuding when it served her purposes but not any longer.

"If we are to defeat Nova Roma, then we must be united as one." she reminded them coldly, "Not just in word but also in deed. We must be kin to one another. If we are divided, we fail as one. If we succeed, we also succeed as one. You have put aside your fear and mistrust of Rome long enough to embrace me as your ally. Why can you not embrace one another, when all of you have more commonalities and shared grievances than disputes?"

"If you truly cannot abide one another, then depart this fellowship immediately. It is better to withdraw honourably than to bring the scourge of defeat upon our heads. Rome will not look any kinder upon one who is unfaithful than she will upon the rest. Once a traitor, always a traitor in Rome's eyes and I need not remind you of Rome's penalty for treason. We must stand now, united, or we must walk our own paths separately and know we let this one certain chance of victory slip through our grasp."

Livia let them mull her words over in silence. Twenty seconds passed, then thirty, and finally the nods of assent came. All of them agreed, without a single complaint or condition. This time, Livia did nothing to suppress her radiant smile as she basked in triumph.

* * * * *

Tom wondered onto the bridge. Thool and B'nner had Sito adjusting the targeting sensors. Radil was hip deep in the comm array while Lucarno struggled to repair the damaged shield emitters. The two engineers themselves were repairing more primary and secondary systems than Riker wanted to think about. Kort was using Sickbay as a makeshift galley, heating rations and distributing them as needed across the ship. That left Grace working alone on the bridge.

By some unforeseen happenstance, Navigation and Flight Control systems had hardly been damaged. That left Grace free to work on the most damaged bridge station: Ops. The entire link to the Main Computer had been severed. That essentially crippled Ops, not to mention whoever reported it to T'Kir if it wasn't at least partially repaired by the time she returned. If wasn't an option Grace would accept.

Free of prying eyes, Grace was able to use a little time saving device no one knew she had. It was a device that Federation science would be unable to explain despite the fact the technology was over a century old. It was a metallic, rectanguar box with six lights aligned along its outer edges. In the centre was a single activation stud. The device was specifically attuned to her brainwaves and could not be used by anyone else, even if they deduced it purpose.

Eyeing the burned out isolinear rods that formally carried data back and forth from the MC to the Ops station, Grace concentrated, then pressed the activation stud. The six lights flashed to life and the molecular structure of the rods began to shift until the damage to them was reversed. It was then that Grace heard the crunch of a boot on burnt insulation.

Grace whirled. One hand fastened her device to her belt while the other sought out the throat of her eavesdropper. Finding it, she lifted and let her momentum carry her around until she slammed the entire body into the bulkhead.

Seeing that she had Captain Riker dangling in the air, feet inches from the ground, Grace swore violently in a half-dozen alien tongues, each oath more profane than the last. She dropped Riker and backed away. As he launched into a coughing fit, she mentally prepared a new set of orders for her instrument. Her hand hovered over the activation button while Riker finished coughing and lifted his head to glare venomously at her.

"What the hell?" he croaked in outrage, "What was that about? What the hell were you doing and what the hell is that thing on your belt?"

The last were the words Grace dreaded to hear. She depressed the button. The lights flashed and Riker's face went slack. Grace shook her head in pity before speaking.

"You will forget that I attacked you and most importantly, you'll forget you saw my attuner in action. It was simply a tricorder. I was testing the repairs I completed on the isolinear rods. Do you understand?"

Riker nodded dumbly.

* * * * *

"Good." she started pulling her hair back into a tail.

Riker blinked several times then shook his head, "Grace?"

"Sir?" she asked innocently.

"What am... " he shook his head again, "Never mind. Good work on Ops. Nice idea sending a data stream through using your tricorder." He coughed

"Are you all right?"

Riker rubbed his throat, "Just a sore throat. I'd better go see Kort. I can't afford to get sick."

"Good idea." she agreed, cursing herself for not repairing the tissue damage around his larynx.

"Well, I'm off. Carry on." with that, he left.

Hopefully Kort'll chalk it up to a battle injury, she thought miserably but knew better. The jig was almost up. Her teammates would soon discover her true identity... and her true loyalties. Hell, Macen probably already knows.

* * * * *

For someone attributed with a lot of knowledge, Macen was spending his time reflecting on what he didn't know. In order, those things were: 1) how to get out of his cell, 2) how the rest of his team was, and 3) how to complete his mission now that it was compromised by an unknown alien presence. He assumed he'd make a break for it when the opportunity presented itself. The when part of the equation was the greatest worry.

His thoughts kept lingering on the status of the rest of the team. With the ground team ferreted out, it wouldn't be long before they began combing the spacelanes. These unknown aliens posed a potential threat in this matter as ell as in others. They may have transferred over cloaking spoofing technology. With communications cut off, that left the separate units of the team ion their own.

Macen knew Daggit and Dracas had been captured alongside him. After the interrogation, he knew T'Kir was still free. Or, she had been as of his meeting with Alaric and Ezexial. His thoughts lingered on T'Kir more than any other subject.

He inwardly berated himself for not confessing the depth of his feelings for her. Even if they were not reciprocated, and he strongly suspected they were, it would have been a necessary cleansing of the air between them. He felt inordinately concerned for her. It was selfish, he knew, since most of the escalated tensions derived from his unrequited desire to bare his soul.

Little did Macen know that his fate had already been discussed and decided.

* * * * *

"I respectfully disagree." Alaric protested, "The aliens could still prove useful. We haven't interrogated this 'Macen's' companions yet."

"My decision has been made." Augustus Romulus declared hotly, "If I did not know you from my childhood, I would suspect you of disrespecting your emperor."

Ezexial smiled as Alaric coloured under his liege's chiding, "Forgive me Caesar. I meant no disrespect."

"And I disagree." Ezexial's smile turned decidedly nasty, "I believe the good Admiral has been swayed by the prisoner's charms. He also hasn't seen the reports of the woman who escaped custody earlier today. The same woman who expertly manipulated our central data net. I believe she too is in league with the prisoners. They aren't here as observers. They're here to topple you Caesar. They must be executed."

"I agree." Romulus nodded, "And as long as they're going to die, they might as well provide some sport in the process. They will face the arena, and with any luck and the gods' intervention, they will die with honour."

"I suspect they will surprise us all, my Emperor." Alaric warned, "This could prove a mistake."

"Treason." Ezexial hissed.

Romulus' eyes narrowed as Alaraic spoke again, "I humbly remind my Emperor that he is still a man and that men make mistakes."

"Such as speaking out of turn?" Romulus suggested, "Leave us my friend, and reflect on the fact that our friendship is all that prevents me from misconstruing your words."

Alaric bowed his head, "As you wish my Lord."

As Alaric departed, Ezexial sidled up alongside the young ruler, "He's growing far too arrogant."

"As do you my alien friend." Romulus countered, "You have much to offer my world, but you have not served me or my family half as long as Alaric. Whatever differences you two have, work them out. If I am forced to choose between you, then things will fare poorly for you. Am I understood?"

Ezexial bowed low, "Eminently so."

* * * * *

T'Kir blinked in surprise over the data on her screen. How anyone as security conscious and paranoid as the Romans could have missed this. Someone in northern Germania was making subspace transmissions to multiple locations outside the Empire. Earlier, a massive conference had been held linking all the various transmission sites.

T'Kir suddenly knew she'd found her potential ally. Only the Romans possessed subspace transmitters. While these transmissions could be between covert operatives and their handler, T'Kir doubted. The bureaucracy would have placed the Imperial transmission closer to Nova Roma, not to mention the lack of any documentation regarding these signals.

This was a private operation. T'Kir would, and was about to, stake her life and the lives of her teammates on it. T'Kir guessed someone was uniting all of Rome's enemies into one army, and if today's signal was any clue, they were almost ready to move. T'Kir had to get to northern Germania fast and co-ordinate Macen's release with these rebels. Some experts might have a problem with her offering technical support an dinformation in exchange for her comrades' liberation but then again, T'Kir was neither an expert on the Prime Directive nor did she consider it much in effect after the Beagle landing.

Dracas could certainly build the rebels all sorts of destructive gadgets and upgrades. Daggit could drill their troops and Macen... Even captive, Brin had undoubtedly unearthed valuable intelligence and insights. T'Kir herself could demonstrate their continued communications vulnerabilities and offer methods of correcting them. She could imagine being turned down.

Now it was just a matter of arranging transportation. She still had the credit line she's established for herself while in Nova Roma. Deducing that her first attempt at forging a bank line had nearly resulted in her capture, she'd been far more careful on her second and third attempts. She felt she could tap into these accounts with impunity. She just didn't dare draw out too much capital for fear of once again drawing unwanted attention.

She'd research the necessary travel costs and expenses and utilise both accounts to meet the end amount. Afterwards, she'd establish new accounts with different lenders. If caught, she knew fraud would be the least of the charges brought against her. She'd probably be executed outright upon first glimpse of her ears. Spock had been effectively demonised since his encounter in the Roman arena.

Once again, T'Kir found being a Vulcan working against her. Then again, her natural stamina was also why she'd been able to stay awake for thirty-six hours straight. There upsides and downsides to everything. She'd have to ask Brin his opinion on being El-Aurian when they were reunited.

She couldn't imagine not being reunited with him. It was too painful to conceive of. She cursed herself for not telling him of her feelings before they ventured forth on this stupid mission,. She'd kept silent too long. It was time to heed Lisea Danan's advice and tell him how much she loved him.

But first, she needed to buy a train ticket.

* * * * *

Macen sat upright on his bunk when he heard the rattle of keys outside his door. The lock mechanism released and the door swung open. This time there were four guards, all heavily armed. The closest guard returned the keys to her belt.

"Come on, get moving." she ordered tersely.

"Where am I moving to?" Macen asked.

"The arena." she replied with a feral smile, "You and your friends are going to provide some entertainment as you die."

Oh joy, Macen thought morosely as he rose to follow the guards.