"This is Admiral Vallera of the Imperial Warbird T'khera. May we render further assistance?"

Rojc shifted nervously in his seat. "Uh, yes." He cleared his throat. "We've sustained heavy damage and will need repair crews and materials."

The Romulan admiral smirked. "We would be glad to help. My staff and I shall beam over shortly to discuss what you require."

"Thank you, Admiral. Phantom out."

Iv'Oor swiveled her chair around to face Rojc. "Need I remind you?"

"No, you do not, Lieutenant," Rojc replied curtly. "If Guitarrez was ready to surrender, we're in bad shape. We need the help."

"Command is going to have a field day with this one once the Institute complains," Nicot grinned lightheartedly.

"That's enough!" Rojc growled. "When the Romulans beam aboard, direct them to the observation lounge and notify me. I'll be in Engineering." Without pause, Rojc rose from the command chair and strode of the Bridge into a waiting turbo lift.

Iv'Oor turned to Nicot. "You don't suppose...?"

Nicot cut her off with a nod of the head. "Not here, not now, Melina."

Arona glanced up from the desk display she was studying as Rojc entered her office.

"How is she doing?"

"We've stabilized her," Arona responded, "She's in a pretty deep coma, but I'm certain that she'll pull out of it. We need to get her to a Starbase facility, though." She noticed the worried look on Rojc's face. "Senishra will be fine, Rojc, there's no reason to worry so."

He frowned for a moment.

"What else?"

Rojc's frown changed to a scowl as he broke eye contact with the Doctor. "I require a shot of Britori-9."

"I know we don't see eye-to-eye, Rojc, but unless you're planning on relinquishing command--"

"Doctor!" Rojc paused as he composed himself. "I don't need your lectures or your advice, I'm fully aware of the dangers of remaining on duty while I've got the medicine in my system. You need to understand what's at stake here. I have no intention of turning command over to Guitarrez. Now administer the Britori-9 to me, and that's an order."

Arona glared icily at Rojc. "Very well, you leave me little choice, Commander. If you don't want to take my advice--"

Rojc interrupted again, but his voice remained calm. "Doctor, at this moment we stand at the mercy of four battle-ready Romulan warbirds, deep in enemy space, who will not hesitate to take advantage of us should we show the smallest sign of further weakness. The Captain is dead; our first officer is unconscious; I am the only officer left with command experience. If that weren't enough, I have further classified matters to attend to. Now, I'm asking you, Doctor, not to finish your previous line of thought and administer the medication."

Arona sighed. "I will be making a note of this in my log." She walked over to a closed an open cabinet and opened it. "If the situation were any less dire, you'd be sedated and in your quarters." After a moment, she grabbed a hypospray. "Make no mistake, you're standing on a thin line. If I deem it necessary, I will not hesitate to relieve you." She injected the medication into Rojc's neck.

"I understand, Doctor." Rojc turned to leave. "...And thank you for your understanding."

Rojc marched into Engineering, wading through the flurry of engineers as he searched for the Chief.

"Rojc!" Guitarrez called out. "Need help?"

Rojc walked over to where the Chief was. "Yeah, I do. How fast can you compile a list of needed materials and of a workforce schedule?"

Guitarrez bit her lip. "How long do I have?"

The comm chirped. "Bridge to Rojc."

Rojc grimaced. "The walk from here to the Observation Lounge." He tapped his comm-badge. "Go ahead."

"The Romulans have beamed aboard and are on being escorted to the Observation Lounge."

"Thank you. Inform them that I'll join them shortly. Rojc out." He turned to Guitarrez. "Ready?"

Guitarrez groaned. "You know how much I loathe diplomatic situations. You owe me one." She grabbed a PADD off a nearby workstation and they were off.

Rojc and Guitarrez entered the Observation Lounge to find the Romulans already seated and waiting. He glanced at the Romulan admiral before quickly looking away and taking his seat.

"Welcome aboard the Phantom, Admiral. I am Lieutenant Commander Dade Rojc and this is the Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Commander Lucia Guitarrez."

"My aides: Sub-Commander Valek and General Sa'mo." Vallera gestured to each one as she spoke their names. "If I may inquire, what happened to your Captain?"

Rojc remained impassive. "Captain Whitman was killed in the initial Breen attack."

"I see. How unfortunate." The Romulan admiral leaned back in her chair. "I believe you mentioned materials and work crews."

Guitarrez paused momentarily before speaking. "This is a list of all the supplies and man power we could optimally use." She held out a PADD.

"Of course, anything you can supply would be appreciated," Rojc added.

Valek glanced at Vallera, who nodded after a moment. Valek reached out and took the PADD, scanning the data as she scrolled it across the screen. After reviewing the data, Valek handed the PADD to Vallera.

Vallera glanced at the PADD display herself for a long minute before she set it down in front of her on the conference table. "That's a very lengthy list. What would we receive as compensation for our assistance?"

Rojc remained reserved and calm. "The success of our mission and our gratitude."

Vallera smirked. "Very well, Commander; you have our assistance. I shall arrange for my crews to begin coordination efforts immediately. In the meantime, I believe it would be wise to leave Breen space--there is a Romulan starbase not far from here."

Rojc looked over to Guitarrez. "Do we have warp drive?"

"Yes--but I doubt the engines can take speeds much over warp 2," the Chief Engineer responded.

"All right. As soon as you can give us those coordinates, we will follow." Rojc leveled his gaze at Vallera. "If you wish, I can arrange quarters for you and your aides."

"That will be acceptable."

Rojc arrived at Neeron's quarters and nodded to the security officers on guard duty to allow him access. After the valid security codes were inputted, the door opened and Rojc entered.

"I hope I don't need to explain this one to you, Neeron."

The Breen glared at Rojc. "No, you do not. I would do the same if I were in your place."

"And yet you still went ahead with your assassination attempt?"

"I prefer to think of it as 'pest control'. You would do the same in my place."

"I most certainly would not!"

"You would." Neeron paused as he turned away from the windows. "Despite our differences and our mutual loathing of each other, we are far more alike than you would like to believe. You would have had a very different opinion of that camp if you hadn't been her pet prisoner."

"My officers are on stand-by for use of deadly force. I'd prefer not to have to move you to the brig."

"Give me one good reason--"

"Because the Romulans will rip us apart and no one on Breen will ever know the truth if you don't make it back alive on this vessel. I advise you to look past your blinding hatred and consider what we have at stake here."

Neeron cursed in Breen under his breath. "You don't understand."

"Don't I?" Rojc struggled not to raise his voice. "Those Dominion bastards you let onto the ship killed Captain Whitman. The Captain was a very good friend—something akin to my mentor. Did I take my weapons stock and start randomly gunning down Jem'hadar?"

Neeron was silent.

"That's right, I didn't. So cut me a little slack here. I have enough problems to handle without worrying about you trying to kill Admiral Vallera."

An uneasy silence hung in the air. The moments went by before Neeron made any response. "Very well, I will leave her alone--for now."

"Save the rhetoric for someone who will be intimidated." Rojc turned his back to the Breen and walked out of the guest quarters.

The Mess Hall was completely deserted, with the exception of one table. Normally Iv'Oor, Arona, and Guitarrez would be exhausted, but the Romulan assistance had greatly eased their workload--now it was only a matter of hours before the Phantom and her Romulan escort reached the remote Romulan starbase.

"Rojc hasn't needed any of his medication for a long time," Iv'Oor asserted, "Since a little after I've known him, in fact."

"With all he's been through in that time, why would he need the B-9 now?" inquired Guitarrez.

"I've checked into his records for the last couple of years--Melina is right," Arona confirmed.

"I still don't think this is reason enough to justify me relieving Rojc of command."

"I don't know if I agree, Lucia," replied Iv'Oor, "If he's under enough pressure that he feels that he needs the B-9..." Her voice trailed off.

"He hasn't done anything irrational or uncharacteristic yet. Besides, I don't think now is a good time to take action. We don't know what to expect from the Romulans; Rojc obviously does." Guitarrez took a sip of her drink and let her thoughts sink in.

"How do you figure he knows what to expect from the Romulans?" asked Arona after a moment.

"I think there's a fair amount of evidence that this Romulan admiral is the one that was in charge of the Romulan prison camp he was at. His demeanor in the Observation Lounge just led me to suspect he was playing a game of 'diplomacy'. He also pretty much avoided eye contact with her."

"And then there's the fact that Thot Neeron attempted to kill her," added Iv'Oor.

"Glad Senishra filled us in on this little story." Arona folded her arms.

"Come to think of it, Rojc seemed really uncomfortable when we first opened communication with the Romulans. He was pretty touchy then too."

"With all that's going on--could it be the straw that broke the camel's back? The re-appearance of this Romulan?"

Iv'Oor and Arona stared blankly at Guitarrez.

"I mean, the thing that caused him to decide he needed the medication."

"I don't know how accurate our speculation can be, considering that we only know a few fleeting details as relayed by Senishra." Iv'Oor took a moment to stretch her arms. "But I do know that in all the time I've known him, Rojc has never shown such unease as when that Romulan first appeared on the view screen."

"When you put it like that, maybe Rojc wasn't just using hyperbole on me in sickbay. I can't even begin to imagine how it could affect his psyche."

"He's under a lot of stress, but the fact remains that he hasn't done anything irrational and that he knows how to, ahem, deal with the Romulans." Guitarrez remained steadfast. "If and only if he puts the ship in immediate danger without a damn good plan will I relieve him."

Iv'Oor leaned forward. "He's invoked Intelligence authority--he obviously has got something already planned. By your or Arona's or even my rational, his plan could be that immediate danger."

"What do you think he's got planned?" asked Arona apprehensively.

"I'm not sure. But I'm certain it at least involves returning Neeron to Breen. There's certainly been more going on here than meets the eye with this whole Breen/Dominion thing."

"And you're certain this came about before the Romulans showed up?" Guitarrez questioned further.

"Yes. He was holding back at that first meeting after we re-took the ship. I've known Rojc long enough to know when he's scheming. Why he didn't invoke Intelligence authority then and there is a little gray, but I suspect that has something to do with his relationship with Senishra."

Guitarrez bit her lip. "How long until the B-9 clears his system?"

"It was a twenty-four hour dosage I administered to him."

"The ship probably won't be repaired before then." Guitarrez sighed in frustration. "Well I don't know what to do. I've never like dealing with Starfleet Intelligence, and this is why--they make everything so damn unclear."

Arona looked at Iv'Oor. "Can you separate his plans from any irrationality on his part, should the need arise?"

Iv'Oor shifted uncomfortably. "I..." She stopped.

"Look, Melina, I know you're dealing with your own problems and this is a lot for you to deal with, but Nicot isn't going to cooperate with us if we ask him." Guitarrez took another sip of her drink.

"We don't have much other recourse than to flat out relieve him of duty," added Arona.

Iv'Oor was silent for a moment longer. "I can't make any promises. Rojc doesn't exactly need medication to be irrational; I don't claim to know exactly how he thinks. I'll do my best, though."

"Let's just hope it doesn't have to come to that, though," said Guitarrez solemnly. She finished her drink in a gulp before standing. "I'm gonna check in at Engineering before I turn in for the night."

"We could all benefit from some rest," agreed Arona.

Rojc sat on the couch in his quarters, sipping a cup of coffee as he looked over the latest status report. Estimates put repair times somewhere between 2200 and 1300 of the day after, depending on how much help the Romulan starbase could provide. It certainly wasn't good news, but at least it gave him time to plan out his next moves sufficiently. And planning was important at this point, least he wind up sedated in his quarters.

He sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees as he moved to the next PADD. Neeron hadn't known nearly as much as he let on--it was the admiral that had ordered the Phantom to investigate; if one were actually paranoid enough, that could point to nearly a half-dozen admirals. Monthon seemed most likely, since, as far as Rojc could tell, that's where the Phantom's orders came from directly. If only--

Rojc's contemplation was interrupted by the unexpected sound of the door chime. The chime rang a second time. Far be it from Rojc not to have his suspicions as to who it was--but he spoke up anyway. "Enter."

The door opened and in walked Admiral Vallera. "Its good to see you again, Dade." She entered the room further and the door slid shut behind her.

"What are you doing here?"

Vallera frowned. "Obviously you didn't miss me. I'm hurt."

"What are you doing here?" Rojc repeated.

"Saving your ass, is what it looks like," she replied curtly. "I'll have you know I wouldn't go through all this trouble for just anyone." She sat down in a chair across from him. "No welcome. No thank you. Nothing."

"Sorry to disappoint, Vallera," Rojc began bitterly, "But how the hell do you expect me to respond to your presence here? Starfleet isn't concerned enough already with our so-called 'relationship'."

"Oh please. You're one of Starfleet's golden boys; you could get away with murder without them so much as batting an eye. You're paranoid, Dade," Vallera responded.

"That's what a year of dealing with you did to me."

"You certainly never seemed to mind then, at least not after awhile." Vallera smirked.

"Those were entirely different circumstances. I'm not in the mood to put up with you."

"Oh, so serious," she cooed playfully, "We haven't seen each other face to face for five years and this is how you act?" Vallera frowned after still not getting the response she wanted from Rojc. "Your hostility is beginning to annoy me."

Rojc groaned and began massaging his temples with his fingers. "I--I'm sorry." He breathed deeply. "You didn't come at the best time," he grinned weakly.

"What you need--," she got up and moved next to him on the couch, "--is to relax." Vallera draped her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek.

Rojc backed away for a moment, unusually unsure of himself. The physical aspect of their relationship wasn't something he had ever pushed, but guiltily found himself enjoying. Matters were compounded by another though: Senishra. He turned his face toward hers. "Vallera...",/p>

"Shhhh," she quieted him soothingly. "Don't worry about it." She kissed him again, this time on the mouth and more fully. Rojc's resistance slowly faded...