She was a beautiful girl, bright and strong, her movements well‑coordinated. Since his wife’s untimely death in a shuttle accident four years prior, Talkath was all he had. She was his future, his legacy, his very life. Nothing in all of the Empire was more important to him.
Pardek walked farther into the house, got a warm cup of kali‑falfrom the replicator, and took a seat in the breakfast nook. The ethereal strains of one of Frenchotte’s oratorios gently wafted in from the atrium. From his vantage point in the kitchen, he could still watch his daughter without her noticing his presence.
“She’s such a lovely child,” said a voice from behind him.
Startled, Pardek splashed the pungent blue‑green liquor down the front of his tunic. He stood, turning quickly toward the voice.
Tal Shiar Chairman Koval stood in the spacious kitchen, craning his head to look at Talkath.
“How did you get in here?” Pardek demanded, his heart in the grip of an icy fist. He pitched his voice low, not wishing to alarm his daughter. But a quick glance in her direction revealed that she had heard nothing.
“A Tal Shiar chairman would be most ineffective if he were unable to come and go as he pleased,” Koval said enigmatically. “Besides, your villa’s transporter scramblers appear to be last year’s model.”
“We shouldn’t even be speaking, Chairman Koval,” Pardek said, realizing that he was still holding his cup– and that his grip had grown nearly tight enough to shatter it. Pardek carefully set it down on the breakfast nook table before continuing. “The hearing about the Chiarosan debacle will be held tomorrow. Not before.”
“And that is why I am here today,Senator. I am well aware that some on the Continuing Committee have characterized my efforts in the Geminus Gulf as a failure.”
Pardek found himself stifling a sardonic laugh. “Hence my use of the word ‘debacle,’ Chairman. How elsecould one describe what happened in the Chiaros system?”
“The Praetor now controls three new sectors of previously nonaligned space,” Koval said, apparently unfazed by Pardek’s comment. “That, in itself, should be cause for celebration.”
Pardek wasn’t convinced. The cost had been too high. “Three sectors of nothingness,Chairman. And the information you traded to acquire them–”
“Consisted,” Koval said, interrupting, “of the identities of Romulan operatives who were already scheduled for termination. In addition, the so‑called ‘spy‑list’ I sold to the Federation includes the names of several Starfleet officers who have not engaged in espionage on our behalf, but whose continued existence our Praetor regards as dangerous. These individuals will therefore, in the eyes of Federation authorities, be strongly suspected of treason. And new double agents are even now planting evidence against these individuals, while getting in line to occupy their soon‑to‑be‑vacant positions.”
While Koval spoke, Pardek studied his face. Was Koval’s right eyelid drooping slightly? Lately there had been whispers in the Senate chambers that the Tal Shiar chairman was showing incipient signs of Tuvan syndrome. Pardek could only hope that this was so; the man had thus far proved immune to all other threats.
Whether ill or hale, however, Koval still both impressed and unnerved Pardek. The Tal Shiar leader seemed to have a contingency plan for every eventuality, a talent for survival not seen in the Empire since the halcyon days of the bird‑of‑prey commanders of two centuries past.
“So, some benefit may accrue to the Empire after all,” Pardek said noncommittally.
Koval nodded. “I would regard your public recognition of those benefits as a boon to the Praetor, to the Empire . . . and to the Tal Shiar.”
“The disappearance of a strategically invaluable subspace phenomenon notwithstanding,” Pardek said coolly.
“That is a minor thing, in the overall tapestry of history,” Koval said with a slight shrug. “Not nearly so important, really, as what is to come.”
“And just what isto come, Mr. Chairman?”
Koval looked thoughtful. He paused for a protracted moment, as though deciding just how much it was safe to reveal. “War,” he said finally. “War on such a scale that I doubt you can imagine. And with that war will no doubt come efforts on the part of some to make . . . questionable alliances.”
“Efforts by whom?”Pardek said, frowning.
Koval brushed the question aside. “The Empire will need the guidance of a firm hand if it is to survive its immediate future. Therefore the Tal Shiar must not be compromised. Noneof us, Senator, can afford to relax our vigilance.”
Smiling beneficently, Koval gestured toward Talkath. The girl was now sitting on the atrium floor and engaging in some stretching exercises. “She really is a lovely child, Senator. You would do well to do everything in your power to protect her from harm.”
With that, Koval touched his right wrist with his left hand, and an almost‑inaudible chiming sound gently suffused the room. As a shimmering curtain of energy enveloped the spymaster, Pardek surmised that he had activated a site‑to‑site transporter unit. In the span of a few heartbeats, the dreaded Tal Shiar Chairman was gone.
Alone in the breakfast nook, Pardek sank back into his chair and looked into the atrium at his daughter, who was still intent on her workout. She was so young and innocent, so blissfully unaware of the evil that men did so casually. Koval’s meaning could not have been plainer: He wanted Pardek to understand that he could spirit her away as easily as he had broken the villa’s security protocols. Pardek realized only then that his hands were shaking like the spindly legs of a newborn set’leth.
For Talkath truly wasall he had. She represented the future, a future he was determined to safeguard, regardless of the cost. A future that meant far more to him than any cause, any law, any principle.
EPILOGUE
Mars, Stardate 50915.5
Jean‑Luc Picard hadn’t been to Mars for quite some time; usually, it was to visit the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, where his current starship’s predecessor, the Enterprise‑D, had been built. During his departures from the shipyards’ orbiting drydocks and hangars, he had often glimpsed Cydonia, a region located in the windswept northern lowlands, the site of a pair of human settlements–as well as the alleged location of the infamous “Martian face” formation, according to the myths of centuries past.
Now, he was on his way to Bradbury City with Lieutenant Commander Ranul Keru, in a shuttlecraft. It had been three days since the Enterprise‑Ehad returned to McKinley Station, following its excursion into Earth’s past, where the crew had fought the Borg and helped Zefram Cochrane make humanity’s first warp‑powered flight. During his time on McKinley, Picard had met with engineers, dealt with the well‑being of his surviving crewmembers, and spent an interminable amount of time being debriefed by Starfleet’s higher echelons–both from Starfleet Command and Starfleet Intelligence. He had even had to endure a protracted grilling by a pair of officers from the Federation Department of Temporal Investigations. Picard understood that Agent Dulmer and his junior partner, Lucsly, had genuine concerns about the inadvertent creation of temporal anomalies; after all, such effects could be every bit as dangerous to history’s fragile tapestry as an incursion by the Borg. Still, their painstaking, exacting lines of questioning had sometimes tempted him to lose his temper.
But for all of his frustrations and problems, Picard knew that his own agonies did not cut as deeply as those carried by Keru.
The shuttle flight had been awkward and uncomfortable, and though both men tried to discuss topics unrelated to the grim reality of Hawk’s death, the lapses into silence came often. It was during one of those interludes when Keru spoke, his eyes on the red‑and‑ocher world before them on the viewscreen.