Condemning the operation as "an obvious suicide mission," he had refused to part with anything more than a handful of technicians and soldiers. Tarus's political connections had actually been quite handy in wrangling a couple of extra squads of soldiers. Artex supposed he ought to be grateful for this, but he felt more resentful than anything else.
        Artex got up to stretch his legs and tried to straighten the unfamiliar shirt he was wearing. Since coming aboard, his team had appropriated enemy uniforms and styled their hair in a Vulcan fashion in case they needed to interact with any hostiles. Julian's tunic had come from Mallory's highest ranking Vulcan crewman, the former science officer, and its soft blue color irritated him. If he had to impersonate the enemy, he would have preferred to be wearing one of the red shirts the Federation warriors wore, not this nurse's uniform. The rest of his team did not seem bothered by their disguises. The humans from the Intelligence team looked downright comfortable in Earther garb. Centurion Doe, the human from the Orions, wore a command gold uniform and had adopted a noticeable swagger since assuming his role as commanding officer. Bearing little resemblance to Mallory's former captain, Doe was impersonating a much younger officer. If questioned, he would say that most of the ship's senior officers had been killed in battle; an easy story to sell since it was basically true. Commander Tarus had spoken highly of Doe's autonomy and cleverness under pressure, but Doe was a bit too smug for Artex's taste.
        Tarus and his aide returned from auxiliary control. Tarus looked bemused; his aide looked even paler than usual. "I'm sorry for the interruption, but I have just received a priority one message direct from Imperial Command."  He hesitated a moment and then said, "Tribune Artex, perhaps we should speak privately."
      "I'd rather keep everyone informed of any new developments," Artex said. "As you pointed out earlier, it's a small ship."
       "Very well," Tarus said. "Our mission has been altered considerably. The attack on the repair depot has been canceled. We are to proceed at once to Federation Battle Station R-1. Posing as a damaged ship in need of repair, we will attack the base and disable its long-range sensors, facilitating an attack by a flanking squadron. I await your order to change course and begin preparations on a revised plan."

        "Change course and begin preparations at once," Artex said, standing to glare at Tarus. "And give us the room." He waited until everyone but Tarus had filed out of the compartment before angrily demanding to know why these orders had come to Tarus's attention and not to him.
        "I don't know," Tarus said calmly. "Presumably it was faster to route it directly via Intelligence than going through Fleet. I did ask to speak with you privately, Tribune."
        "Regardless, as the officer commanding this mission I should be directly notified of any changes in orders. I am not a proxy."
        "I understand your frustration," Tarus said. He sat at the conference table, unmoved by the fact that Julian was still standing. "But you need to accept that this is likely to be fairly common, especially once we are behind enemy lines. I may be receiving intelligence directly from field operatives."
        "In the future, you will forward any communications received directly to me," Artex said.
       "I cannot agree to that," Tarus said calmly, but firmly. "I have responsibilities and sources of information beyond our immediate assignment which are highly classified and which you have no need to know. I do not say this to challenge your authority, Tribune; it is simply a fact. However I will bring any further intelligence or communication which directly affects this mission to you immediately and in person, and I will not change my people's orders without clearing it with you first. Is this satisfactory?"
        "There is little about this mission which is satisfactory," Artex grumbled, "but that will be acceptable." Allowing curiosity to supplant his frustration, Julian sat next to Tarus and gestured towards the stack of data cards before him. "What is the reason for the change of plans?"
        "Lack of targets," Tarus said, punctuated with a short choking sound that Artex realized was this man's version of a chuckle. He slotted one of the data cards and pulled up a map with battle diagrams on the main viewer. "Based on the after-action reports, the first battles in this sector were less than decisive. The enemy ships were forewarned, probably because of the botched attacks on Republic further north. Hopefully Commander Taalar had the good sense to die in battle or else it is going to go hard on him. At any rate, Mallory was the only ship we got from this division; the others are falling back with only minor damage. The fleet is maneuvering to cut off their most direct retreat path, which would be to Battle Station R-1. Admiral Dieron hopes to have forces in position to hit the base before additional Federation fleet elements can gather there to mount an effective defense. Loss of the base will shatter the enemy's ability to mount any counter-offensive in this sector and secure the left flank of the main invasion corridor completely."
        Artex nodded understanding. "If we are successful in knocking out the base's long-range sensors, they will be very vulnerable. Our forces would not need to rely on their cloaking devices, allowing them to strike swiftly and with less concern about fuel. It is a worthy task."
 "I agree," Tarus said, and they sat in silence for a moment, studying the map. "You have not commented about the increased challenges we will face. Our odds of escape are not good."
        Artex shrugged. "Our chances of surviving the original plan were so low it hardly seemed worth the comparison."
        Tarus made the choking sound again. "Spoken like a true Praetorian. Although Centurion Jones is working on something promising that I will brief you on later. Right now, I must speak with Captain Doe and make sure he is up to speed on recent events."
        Artex nodded dismissal. After a few more minutes of brooding he left for the adjacent auxiliary control room and prepared to take the Mallory further into Federation space than any Romulan had gone before.

USS Mallory
Romulan Border 5 August 2573; Eagle +3 Days

        Sevrin sat back from the computer terminal and reviewed his work, pleased and frustrated at the same time by the progress he had made. On the plus side, he had full access to the functional parts of the computer and had covered his tracks with obstacles that should take weeks for an enemy computer specialist to unravel.

        Of particular importance had been gaining control of the ship's internal sensors, both to inform him of the Romulans' locations and to conceal his own signature. Accomplishing this task allowed him to move about in a limited area of the ship while minimizing risk of detection. It had been wise not to proceed immediately to sickbay; the concentration of Romulans was heaviest on Deck 4, the main deck. Instead he had spent the past six hours working at a terminal in a cargo hold down on Deck 6.
        Another positive discovery was that there did not seem to be as many Romulans aboard as Sevrin would have expected. Even accounting for the fact that the internal sensors were damaged in some areas of the ship, he estimated that there were only about 40 Vulcanoid life forms aboard, including himself. The fact that Vulcans and Romulans were almost indistinguishable on sensors no doubt contributed to the enemy's ignorance of him thus far. The Romulans appeared to have concentrated their presence on the forward third of the ship's circumference between decks 3 and 5. Smaller detachments were present at a few critical locations such as main engineering, security, the weapons stations, and (somewhat surprisingly) the shuttle bay. There was a large concentration of Romulans in and around the auxiliary control room; presumably they were operating the ship from there. There were also about 20 human signatures. The Romulans must have taken some of the surviving crew prisoner to help them run the ship.
        Why the Romulans had not simply put more of their own people on board rather than relying on captives was a mystery to Sevrin. Also troubling was the approach they had taken to unlocking Mallory's systems. Rather than gaining proper control of the main computer, the Romulans had taken the more expedient approach of transferring to manual control certain critical systems such as weapons, propulsion, communications, and life support. That would make sense in the scenario of a hasty capture, where they needed to get the captured ship back behind the lines quickly and there was a potential for hostilities en route. But judging from the earlier battle the enemy enjoyed a significant numerical advantage in this sector. Why the rush? And most troubling, where were they going in such a hurry? Sevrin had no access to navigation, but he did have access to the astronomy lab, which was sufficient to determine that they were definitely not headed back towards Romulan space as he would have expected. So, I'm on board a Trojan horse, he thought to himself.
       A lance of pain shot through his abdomen, so intense that he doubled over and it took several minutes of regulated breathing exercises until he had mastered it enough to continue functioning. Not wanting to risk a trip to sickbay, he had found a medkit, bandaged his obvious wounds, and shot himself full of painkillers and stimulants. When he felt the effect of the stimulants wearing off, he had raided the galley for a box of the noxious but effective energy drinks popular with his human shipmates. He had hoped to find a way to access ship-to-shore communications; summoning assistance was the best hope for the surviving crew. Failing that, it was his duty to at least warn Star Fleet Command that the Romulans were up to something with Mallory. Unfortunately, he had been completely unsuccessful at accessing communications remotely. If he was going to get a message out, he would need to find a way to do it manually.
        The cramps flared up again and he gripped the console to steady himself while he contemplated his next course of action. It was an option of course to simply surrender himself. Contrary to the trivideos, the Romulans did take prisoners, as clearly evidenced by the ship's sensors. He had also read reports that Romulans were fascinated by their Vulcan cousins; he would presumably be decently treated by his captors. Ironically, his ostensible enemies might even treat him better than his former shipmates who, he felt, had never valued his work. Not to mention the fact that it was completely possible that he would fall over dead if he didn't get proper medical attention soon.

        He allowed this fantasy to play across his thoughts as he stood up and straightened himself. Noticing his reflection in the offline monitors, he paused to stare at the haggard face of the man in the Star Fleet uniform and felt a clarity of purpose. I have a duty. I will find a way to carry out my Captain's last order and warn the fleet of what has transpired here. Focusing on that thought made him feel better, even though he had no idea how he was going to manage the task. He considered his priorities through his still-throbbing headache and decided that there was simply no way he could accomplish anything further in his current condition. It was time for a calculated risk. The sensors showed that only one human signature had occupied the chief surgeon's office for the past several hours and that this person was logged into the computer with the credentials of the junior medical officer, Lieutenant Cipes. He sent a private message to the terminal suggesting Cipes inventory his medical supply closet in sickbay in 15 minutes and headed for the aft stairwell.
        With the regular entrance to sickbay apparently under guard, this was going to require a creative approach. Fortunately, the Romulans were using the forward staircases almost exclusively to move around the ship. The turbolift system was wrecked, but that probably worked in the captors' favor as it made it easier to restrict their prisoners' access to a very limited portion of the ship. Sevrin took the stairwell up to Deck 4 and, seeing no nearby Romulan traces on his PADD, switched to the adjacent vertical shaft to access the maintenance crawlway between decks.
        The discovery that the artificial gravity had been disabled in the shaft came as a rude surprise as his first step onto the ladder sent him flying upwards, careening off the walls of the tube. After a few moments of floundering Sevrin steadied himself, recovered his PADD before it floated up to the bridge and chastised himself for his sloppiness. Zeroing the gravity in the shafts was an old Star Fleet trick for moving heavy gear between decks when the lifts were offline; the shafts had separate gravity controls specifically to accommodate this. He should have realized that other starfaring empires would adapt similar practices.
        Carefully entering the access way between decks, he crawled to port, counting until he reached the third ventilation cover, which he pried off as quietly as he could in the narrow confines. He slipped through the small vent and hung from the opening for a few seconds before dropping. His feet went out from under him when he landed and he sat down hard on the deck, feeling very vulnerable and somewhat foolish. He crawled into the corner of the small supply closet and waited expectantly, his phaser trained on the door.
      After a couple of minutes he decided his clumsy entrance had not alerted anyone to his presence. Now it was just a matter of waiting to see if Doctor Cipes had received his message and was able and willing to comply. Sevrin rested his head against the wall and tried to calculate how long the climb from the lower decks had taken him. He was unconscious in seconds.

Auxiliary Control, USS Mallory
Romulan Border 5 August 2573; Eagle +3 Days

        Artex sat in the center seat of Mallory's auxiliary control room reviewing the latest status reports from the combined teams under his command. Tarus's computer expert had made almost zero progress with the main computer and his complaints of increasing difficulties were starting to sound to him like excuses. He assigned his new tech specialist to assist Intelligence with the computer. Even though Tev was still very much an unknown quantity in Artex's mind, his work supervising the restoration of warp power had been adequate and timely. Lal had been quick to boast that she had completed her task of unlocking the weapons systems faster, but considering how few functional weapons Mallory had at the time, it was hardly a fair comparison. He caught himself slouching again and sat up straight in annoyance. The command chair was like everything else on the Federation frigate: comfortable and soft.

        "Contact ahead," reported Lal, who was covering sensors and weapons. "Multiple vessels bearing zero-three-zero relative, range 150 kilo-kilometers, heading three-zero-five true. Their speed is Warp 2.5; we are closing."
        "Sound alert level two," Artex ordered, and walked over to Lal's station, reading the details over her shoulder as they came in. "Mostly smaller hulls, close formation might be an enemy convoy."
         "I concur," Lal said. "Their heading almost matches ours. It is just the route you would expect if they were fleeing back toward their base."
        "Let's give them a wide berth before they spot us," Artex said turning towards the helm. "Centurion Smith, slow to Warp 1 and calculate how much delay to target there would be if we changed course to."
       "Too late, Sir, they've spotted us!" Lal said. "We are being scanned by high-grade sensors. One of them must be a police ship or a small naval unit."
        "They are hailing us," Centurion Li reported from Communications. "Transponder code identifies the sender as the police cutter Beckett. Attempting to decode message."
        Artex locked gazes with Tarus. This is where your team either saves or kills us, Artex thought as the Intelligence officer moved to observe his man at the communications station. Although they had control over the physical communications equipment, they lacked access to the latest Federation codes, which were still locked up in the main computer. Tarus's team had brought the latest broken enemy codes on board with them; Artex could only hope the Federation had not yet changed them.
        "Decoding failed," Li reported, his voice commendably calm considering their cover was about to be blown. "Enemy ciphertext does not decrypt with any known key."
       "Increase to Alert status one!" Artex ordered.
        Centurion Li looked up at Tarus in askance. "Proceed," Tarus said, still icy calm.
        Li loaded the most recent code they had and opened a channel to the Federation police cutter. "Beckett, this is the USS Mallory. Our communications systems are damaged from an earlier battle; we're running on backups here. Please repeat your last signal."
        Tension was high as they waited for a response. An eternity of seconds later, Li's board lit up again. "Another incoming signal from the police ship. Decoding now," Li said.
        The speaker on the console next to Li crackled to life almost immediately. "Message repeat: Attention ship identifying as USS Mallory, this is the Federation police ship Beckett, J.R. Simmons commanding, leading convoy one-three-seven-eight Romeo Foxtrot. Please confirm your identity and state your intentions."
        They bought it! Tarus smiled at Artex and waved Centurion Doe over towards the command chair before heading back to his station. The rest of the crew took their assigned places for visual communication, and Artex reluctantly moved to the science station. "Captain" Doe strolled nonchalantly to the center seat as if he'd been born to sit in it.
        "Open a visual channel to the Beckett," Doe ordered, and in a few moments a stocky, middle-aged human who looked like every human cop Artex had ever seen in his life appeared on the viewscreen. "This is Lieutenant Don Lassiter, commanding the Mallory. It's a pleasure to see a friendly face, Captain Simmons. What's the status of your convoy?"
        "Likewise, I'm sure," Simmons responded cautiously. "Our ships are undamaged and in good order. I've canceled the convoy's normal schedule in the wake of the recent attacks and we are escorting them back to Battle Station Romeo One. Is that your destination as well?"
        "Sure enough is," Doe drawled. "We had a nasty scrap with a King Eagle and are falling back for repairs. I'll have my communications officer exchange intelligence updates with you before we move on."
"Move on? If our destination is the same then I formally request that Mallory join our convoy," Simmons said. "The civilian ships would benefit from the extra protection. And if you don't mind me saying so, it looks from your condition that you would benefit from traveling as a group as well."
        "I completely understand," Doe said. "But I am concerned about delaying our arrival at the base. We have been ordered to reach the base with all haste."

        "Understood, Captain, but we could very well be at war with the Romulans! If I may be perfectly frank, there are those in the police who already feel that Star Fleet is abandoning them. Must I report back to my superiors that a naval frigate is refusing to provide escort protection to a convoy heading to the same port?"
        Artex stiffened at the direction the conversation was taking. The last thing they wanted was anyone calling in their position; the less Star Fleet knew about the Mallory, the better. Fortunately, Doe did not seem rattled by the officer's threat.
        "Of course not," Doe responded. "Captain Simmons, there's no need to start posturing, we're all on the same team here. It's just that there are certainŠ peculiarities to our orders that must be considered. I'll tell you what: I think this matter would be best settled in person. We'll join the convoy, temporarily, and start exchanging intelligence and critical supplies. Why don't you and a representative from the civilian ships beam over here and we'll talk this out. Then we can both file an accurate report."
       Simmons thought this over for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, Captain. I'll contact the merchant ships and make arrangements to come aboard your ship. An hour shall we say?"
        "That would be perfect," Doe said, smiling reassuringly. "I look forward to meeting you. Mallory out." He waited until the screen switched off. "Helm, join the convoy's formation and match course and speed. Weapons, secure the crew from alert status."
        Smith changed course immediately in response to Doe's order. Lal looked over at Artex for confirmation first. Artex rose and nodded towards her. "You will all follow Mr. Doe's orders as if they were my own as long as he sits in the command chair." And then turning towards Doe, "You are relieved now, Centurion. Turn the con over to Lal and join me and Mister Tarus in the briefing room."
        A few minutes later, the three of them sat around the table in the adjacent briefing room. "May I start by offering congratulations to both teams," Tarus said. "Everyone performed well in a tight situation."
        "I am impressed by the cleverness of you and Mister Li," Artex allowed. "But I am quite concerned about ŒCaptain' Doe over here. Centurion, you took great liberties with the guidelines you were given for dealing with any Earthers we encountered. And for the gods' sake, what were you thinking inviting two enemy captains onboard?"
      "Sir, I was under a lot of pressure back there," Doe said. "Especially when that cop threatened to name us in his report. It was stressed to me that we should avoid this if at all possible. As for asking them aboard, I thought a face-to-face meeting would help relieve any suspicions they have. Besides, Sir, I'm a con man. I work better in person." His informal tone did not sit well with Artex, but at least he had dropped the ridiculous accent he had used when talking to the Federation ship.
        "I concur," Tarus said. "It's important not to raise their suspicions. Letting them come aboard and enjoy our hospitality takes them off their guard and shows we have nothing to hide."
        "We have a great deal to hide!" Artex exclaimed. "All we need is for one guard, one technician to walk down the wrong corridor or use the wrong channel on the intercom and we are exposed. There is a difference between cleverness and recklessness! Centurion, you are never to take a risk like this again without my direct approval, is that clear?"
        "Perfectly, Sir."
        "Fortunately for us, the transporter room next door is functional," Artex said, running through the details aloud. "We can have them escorted directly in here by Smith or Jones. That will mitigate the risk to a large extent. The next issue to discuss is how we will break away from the convoy without arousing any further suspicions."
        "I've been thinking about that," Tarus said, "I propose that we alter our strategy and remain with the convoy."
        Artex looked at them as if both Intelligence men were insane, but Tarus continued, "Hear me out, Tribune. The convoy is headed our way and they're perfect cover. If we gain their trust, they might even help us out should anyone ask us any questions we might have trouble answering. And they aren't going that much slower than we were since we have been trying to conserve this ship's remaining fuel. Best of all, I have an idea how we might persuade them not to report encountering us."

        Tarus proceeded to outline a story for Doe to tell the Earthers that, like everything these Intelligence men suggested, struck Artex as both clever and very risky. But in the end he agreed it was their best play. They spent the next half-hour working out details and backstory with Doe.
  "I should return to the control room before our guests arrive," Tarus said. "But there is one final matter I wish to discuss first. Our success in bluffing them into using an older code earlier has tremendous potential beyond our current mission. We now a have recording of their original message in a new enemy code and a presumably identical message in an older code which we have already broken. Such data would be priceless to our code breakers. We should use one of our drop buoys to send this home before we proceed any further."
        Mallory had failed to launch any of her log buoys before her capture. Shortly after coming aboard Tarus's team had modified her three surviving buoys to transmit their contents using a single-burst, narrow-beam transmission to a Romulan base. More than that, a Romulan squadron was tailing them at a distance (intending to attack Battle Station R-1) and could also read the buoy's transmission. The buoys would allow them to send critical messages back to Imperial Command with a minimal risk of detection even if enemy forces were nearby. At the moment, it was the only means of communicating with Imperial Command because the Mallory's long-range communications systems were still offline due to combat damage and computer obstacles. (Repairing that system was not high on the priority list, not compared to weapons, warp drive, and life support.) No one on Mallory wanted to risk anyone detecting such a transmission, something that was not so much a concern before they met the convoy.
        Log buoys were designed to be very hard to detect in the first place, and this one would be set to self-destruct after it transmitted. Anyone detecting the transmission and closing in would find no Romulans at the point of origin. Having only three buoys meant that they needed to use them sparingly, but Artex agreed that this was important enough to warrant expending one. If the text of the two messages from the Beckett were indeed identical (and knowing how police were about procedure, that was a good bet), they would be sending home a Rosetta stone that could be used to crack the enemy's latest code and gain a significant advantage. He gave his approval and waited with Doe until the Earthers arrived.