The next morning, Rojc walked into Transporter Room 2, a half an hour late and closely followed by Vallera. The look on Rojc's face clearly indicated that no one had better not say anything. Vallera's aides, Nicot, and Iv'Oor were already present, of course. They all stepped onto the transporter pad.

"Energize," ordered Rojc.

The three Starfleet and three Romulan officers materialized in the starbase's primary transporter room. The Romulan quartermaster was there to greet them.

"Admiral, this is a severe breach of protocol! I must protest your actions!" the quartermaster said angrily as soon as the transporter cycle had finished.

Vallera glared at him. "It is my decision to make, Sub-Commander. It is not your place to inform me of protocol."

The Romulan backed down and regained his composure. "My apologies, Admiral." He motioned them off the transporter. "With all the recent border activity of late, the station been very busy. I do not know if we can meet your needs for supplies and work crews."

Vallera, who had been in the lead, swiveled around until she was face to face with the quartermaster. "Then you can re-assign as needed. The Federation vessel is your priority."

The quartermaster frowned. He opened his mouth to protest, but apparently decided against it. "Very well, Admiral."

"Are the accommodations I specified prepared?"

"Wardroom Three has been prepared for you. If you'll follow me."

The quartermaster stopped and directed them down another hall. After reaching the end of the hallway, he opened a door to the wardroom. The officers filed in and took their seats.

"Will this be suitable?"

Rojc tapped at the display in front of him and nodded to Vallera.

"This will do. Leave us."

The quartermaster nodded curtly and left.

"So what is this all about, D--err Commander?" asked Iv'Oor.

Rojc glanced at the Romulans before replying. "Our return to Breen, Lieutenant. And Federation, therefore the alliance's security; hence the reason for Romulan involvement."

Iv'Oor was borderline calm; any obvious misgivings she disguised. The return to the Breen system wasn't her concern; she was certain Rojc was plotting it all along. What threw her for a loop was his involvement of the Romulans in what he clearly indicated was a Federation matter.

"All right, Commander. I've gone along with your plans thus far, I'd like for you to elaborate," said Vallera.

Rojc set down the PADD he'd brought with him and leaned back in his chair. "We'll be returning to Breen, of course. We won't be returning without some backup, of course." He nodded towards Vallera.

"The Breen will detect our cloaks and have a force waiting accordingly," General Sa'mo said flatly. "Your 'plan' will get us killed."

"Your ships will never enter the Breen system unless your assistance is absolutely necessary; you have nothing to worry about," Rojc replied smugly.

"I'm not following." Nicot looked to Rojc. "Despite any power generators we get, without the third core, the Phantom won't be at peak efficiency. We'll never even make it to Breen if the Romulans are only worst-case scenario back-up."

Rojc smiled fiendishly. "I've already been in contact with four Starfleet vessels—they are currently on shake down and are operating under Captain's discretion. The Endeavor, Akira, Venture, and Prometheus are on their way here as we speak."

Vallera's staff, Nicot, and Iv'Oor registered obvious shock; which Vallera found amusing.

"Resourceful, Commander. Very resourceful." Vallera smirked.

Iv'Oor questioningly stared at Rojc. "How?"

"I bypassed Federation comm-traffic and went straight through personal channels; in each case I knew someone on the senior staff—Commander Kintain on the Endeavor; Captain Ah'ghoel on the Prometheus; Lieutenant Calloway on the Venture; Lieutenant Alb on the Venture." Rojc paused. "And to answer your next question, yes, they are under communications black out."

"I'm surprised you convinced the Prometheus to come, what with that ugly incident a few months back," said Valek.

Sa'mo had composed himself and became skeptical once more. "The Breen will still know what's coming and will set up a fleet accordingly."

"No, they won't," Rojc said with finality. "We install cloaking devices on each of the ships."

"But--"

Rojc held up a hand. "Turns out the Breen do not detect your cloaks, rather your ships my emissions." He slid a PADD over towards the Romulans. "Information, generously supplied by Thot Neeron. They know how to spot a Romulan signature; that's it."

"Which means we'll be more than a match for whatever forces the Breen can muster on short notice. Nice." Valek nodded affirmatively.

"That's the general idea."

"You still haven't gotten to part two, Commander. The security threat?" asked Iv'Oor, still a bit stunned.

"The Phantom's mission was a trap."

"Obviously," replied Sa'mo.

Rojc frowned at the Romulan, but continued. "Thot Neeron gave me a general, albeit vague idea who engineered the trap. There is a changeling infiltrator within Starfleet, at the command level."

"Who?"

Rojc sighed. "Neeron said it was the admiral who authorized our mission."

"That would be Monthon, wouldn't it?" asked Nicot.

"That was my initial assessment too." Rojc slid Nicot a PADD. "But--it just didn't fit. Monthon is a Vice-Admiral, and in charge of a currently insignificant area. I find it hard to believe that he could have gotten Institute and Intelligence authority to send the Phantom to investigate."

"Admiral Gossimere."

"Acting head of Starfleet Intelligence," added Vallera, mouth agape.

"That's right." Rojc nodded.

"That's absurd," Iv'Oor blurted out. "Gossimere is surrounded by armed guards 26 hours a day! He's been blood tested--DNA tested hundreds of times. What you're suggesting is...is..."

"Ludicrous." Sa'mo turned to his Admiral. "This man is obviously unbalanced. I recommend we part our separate ways now."

"Its not impossible. The former head of Starfleet Intelligence was killed a few months back in an 'accident'. There may be no official or admissible proof, but I know for a fact that the Tal Shiar was involved." Rojc glared at the Romulan general.

"That's outrageous!" Sa'mo stood. "We don't have to listen to these unfounded accusations by a mad man, especially after having saved his ship!"

"General, sit down," Vallera firmly ordered.

"But--"

"Sit!"

Rojc nodded. "Thank you, Admiral."

"Don't thank me yet, Commander. I'm not far off from agreeing with Sa'mo's assessment."

"I don't have time to go into all the intricacies of how, when, and why; what I do know for certain is small gaps in Gossimere's orders as of late. They aren't noticeable, and that's why no one else is likely to have picked up on it. But the Phantom being here is further proof."

"General Order 56." Nicot nodded. "I see where you're going with this."

"General Order 56?" Valek frowned.

"All Starfleet experimental craft are to be accompanied by an escort until the ship is assigned an NCC designation. In times of war, no Starfleet experimental vessel is to be sent out into hostile space, period," summed up Iv'Oor.

"Just on the books, as of a month ago. Starfleet was deeply concerned about the Prometheus incident," added Rojc.

"How is that a 'small gap'?" asked Sa'mo incredulously. "Shouldn't your government have caught it?"

"He's the head of Starfleet Intelligence. His orders are over the heads of anyone who would protest, and not important enough to anyone who could do anything about them; hence, he has broad discretionary powers," replied Rojc.

Vallera frowned. "Let's assume for a moment that you are correct, Commander. What then?"

"Quite simple. Gossimere is currently based on Starbase 63. Its not of key importance, thus less security. The warbirds de-cloak, thus distracting the starbase staff. Then in the confusion, I lead in a covert team and arrest Gosimere. That's the brief version, of course."

"The other Federation ships are aware of this part of the plan, of course?" asked Sa'mo suspiciously.

"Of course."

Vallera regarded Rojc for a long moment.

"Well?" asked Rojc impatiently.

She leaned forward and folded her hands. "You have our assistance."

Rojc remained serious and nodded his head. "Now the real planning begins."

The Phantom and its cloaked escort was a week back into Breen space and less than an hour away from the Breen home system. The trip had been surprisingly uneventful; they had run across a couple of patrols, but nothing to indicate any resistance or detection of the cloaked escort. Nerves were beginning to fray. "Shouldn't this be more difficult?" was the thought of many a Romulan and Starfleet officer. It was most confusing to the Phantom's crew, who had already bore the brunt of the Breen assault. Whatever terror there was in returning to the Breen home system, it was also accompanied by a odd feeling of comfort, knowing that their mission was almost complete.

"Still nothing on long range," reported Nicot, "Though I'm not yet getting a clear reading on the Breen system itself yet."

Thot Neeron, of course, had a working theory: the unexpected loss of leadership and resources had caused the Dominion sympathizers to remain in their cover--so essentially the bulk of the Breen military knew nothing of it, and did not consider the Phantom a threat.

Rojc frowned. "I want to get something on the system before we get there. Take whatever steps you need to punch through the interference."

A resounding "aye sir" reverberated around the Bridge as the duty officers worked. Indeed, the crew had worked hard, and, despite the large loss of active crew, efficiently.

Rojc couldn't help but feel some pride--maybe it wasn't technically his ship, but he'd certainly done a lot to mold it and make it ready for its long missions ahead. Both Arona and Guitarrez had similar feelings--the crew under their direct command was working well. Despite all the tragedy, perhaps in the long run, it would be for the best.

He was unusually jumpy, no doubt as a result of whatever Britori-9 was still in his system—he didn't quite have the control over his thoughts he usually had. Rojc hated being in this situation in this condition, but he held close to his opinion that no one else could carry out his plans. A side effect of the B-9, perhaps? Rojc shook away that thought: now was not the time to second guess himself. But the nagging feeling that something would go wrong, that something he hadn't planned for would end in catastrophe kept gnawing at him.

Iv'Oor was deep in her own thoughts at the helm. Rojc's plan had been fairly straightforward--even if she didn't agree with his assessment about Gossimere. The four Starfleet ships had bought into it; the Romulans had bought into it; her vision seemed clouded, however. It wasn't something she could put her finger on though—maybe it was the death of her brother that was still bothering her--or maybe...

Iv'Oor shook her head to break herself out of that thought; it was crazy to think, but was she feeling jealousy? Over Rojc? Somewhere inside of her, she desperately wanted to avoid these thoughts; Iv'Oor went back to paying closer attention to the Helm status display.

Lieutenant Michael Sanas spoke up from Mission Ops without breaking eye contact with the display in front of him. "I'm starting to get a clear reading--Nicot, can you clear up this algorithm?"

Nicot looked over the new data on his display. "One moment." He brought up one of his many custom utilities and began running Sanas' sensor enhancement program through it. He had the results after a few seconds. "I've got a working model. Implementing it now."

"There...we...go...!" Sanas replied. "We're getting the first clear readings now." There was a brief pause.

"...Nothing..." Iv'Oor reported, "I'm not getting anything out of the ordinary."

Rojc looked at the armchair display. "Jamming?"

Coleman ran a diagnostic. "No sir. Everything checks out."

Rojc rubbed his chin contemplatively. "I can't believe the forces we destroyed hurt them that bad." He leaned back. "Time until we reach the system's security perimeter?"

"One minute, twenty-eight seconds, sir."

"Signal the Romulans to drop out of warp here and hold position."

Iv'Oor complied before responding to Rojc's order. "Message acknowledged. They're dropping out of warp and are ready on stand-by."

Rojc paused for a moment before standing up. "Alright, people keep sharp." He steeled himself and looked straight ahead at the view screen. "Drop us out of warp, Iv'Oor. Opening hailing frequencies."

The Phantom and her escort dropped out of warp, near simultaneously followed by the distinctive ring of the open comm channel. "Channel open, sir."

"This is the Federation vessel Phantom, returning from our fact-finding mission. We're here to return Thot Neeron."

"Acknowledged Federation starship USS Phantom NX-50180. You are clear to proceed to Homeworld. Follow the course the beacons lay out or you will be halted. Station Relika I out."

Rojc still couldn't quite bring himself to believe that it would be this easy. Even Neeron had expected them to mount some kind of resistance at the home system. "Follow the beacons in, Lieutenant."

It was a tense few moments before the Phantom reached orbit, but nothing unusual had happened.

"We have contact with the surface, Captain. They have provided coordinates for transport." Iv'Oor paused as she looked over the coordinates. "Same as we received when we arrived the first time."

Rojc couldn't shake the feeling that something was or was about to go wrong. "Rojc to Transporter Room I, energize."

"Transporter Room I to Bridge, surface acknowledges receiving Thot Neeron and his prisoner."

"Thank you, Ensign P'vov. Bridge out." Rojc sat down. "Take us out, Iv'Oor. Once we're clear of the system, signal the Romulans and set course for Starbase 63. Engage the cloak as soon as we're clear of any Breen monitoring."

"Aye sir."

Rojc's misgivings weren't completely unfounded. Back on Breen, Neeron and Varus were surrounded by Jem'hadar and Breen troops, with disruptor rifles leveled at them.

Varus grabbed the weapon from Neeron's holster and stepped back. "You may have foiled my plot to capture the Phantom, but you won't be stopping my coup." He gestured with the weapon. "Come now, Neeron. I'd hate to kill you without giving you a chance to pull off one of your fantastic escapes."

Neeron frowned. "We will see who is victorious." He deftly tapped his communicator and vanished in a transporter beam.

Thot Varus grinned. "Indeed we will, my friend. Indeed we will."

"Commander! We have four ships de-cloaking!"

"We have a positive ID--they're Romulan."

"There are no Romulans scheduled to arrive today. Bring the station up to Yellow Alert, just to be sure."

"Yellow Alert acknowledged, sir."

"Status on the Warbirds?"

"They're--just sitting there, sir. Weapons and shields are not powered."

"Open a channel to the lead Warbird."

"Channel open."

"This is Commander Jei'Jaq of Federation Starbase 63 to unidentified Romulan Warbirds. Please identify."

"This is Admiral Vallera of the Imperial Warbird T'khera, part of Special Task Force 63."

"What can I do for you, Admiral?"

"One moment, Commander."

"They've cut communications."

"Until they re-establish, open a channel to Romulus and see if we can't confirm the identity of our 'friends' out there. Try to get any and all info."

"Aye sir."

Elsewhere on the station, five officers led by Rojc had covertly boarded the station.

"How long do your estimates give us until we are detected?" asked Iv'Oor.

"I'd say about 4 minutes tops," replied Rojc. "Depends really how long the Romulans keep them occupied."

"Do we have a location on Gossimere yet?" asked Commander Saria Kintain.

"He's in his office, according to my tri-corder," answered Arona.

"Good. Let's move," ordered Rojc.

The team surreptitiously made its way through the corridors, barely avoiding several personnel. It was only a matter of a couple of minutes before they arrived at the Admiral's office.

"1...2...3...!" whispered Rojc.

The doors to the office flew open and Rojc's group rushed through. They moved quickly and secured the room and Gossimere. It was mere moments afterwards when the computer alarm sounded.

"Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!"

"What is the meaning of this, Commander?" barked Gossimere.

"Drop the act, changeling. You're under arrest. Arona, the tests if you please."

Arona moved slowly to the Admiral's side. She pointed a phaser in his face as she administered a blood test. The blood filled the vial. The moments passed. Nothing happened.

Everyone in the room registered some degree of shock.

"We seem to have a problem here, Rojc."

"I want that DNA test, Doctor."

Commander Kintain moved to his side. "This is not looking good--for us," she whispered.

"The evidence--" he hissed back.

Arona held up her tri-corder. "This is Admiral Gossimere."

Rojc was crestfallen. He glanced at the bio-readings and surveyed the room before saying anything. "Stand down." He hit his communicator. "Rojc to Nicot, end mission. Tell the crews to stand down."

At that moment, Starfleet security officers entered the office, weapons drawn. "Weapons on the floor, hands where we can see them!"

Gossimere stood up and marched over to Rojc. "Explain, Lieutenant Commander Rojc--now!"

Rojc grimaced. "During the course of the Phantom's mission in Breen space, I learned of a Dominion infiltrator within Starfleet Command. I was certain you were that infiltrator. I contacted four other ships to assist in our Breen mission and our arrest here," Rojc paused, "I regret and apologize for my error."

"And the Romulans?"

"A diversion, sir."

Gossimere regarded Rojc for a moment and turned around to the lead security officer. "Place Commander Rojc in the brig. As for the others, return them to their ships and place the ships on lock-down."

"I don't understand, Arona. His assessment made sense."

"Nicot, there's not much we can do about it at this point. Stop worrying." Arona leaned back in the chair behind her desk.

"You had to miss something!"

Arona glared at Nicot. "The test was very thorough, Lieutenant."

Nicot tugged at the neck of his uniform. "I'm sorry, Arona, I didn't mean that to sound like it did. Can you please just humor me and run a full analysis on those test results and bio-readings?"

Arona's glare changed to a frown. "Nicot--" she began. She paused and threw her arms up in frustration. "Fine, I'll do the analysis again. Now go away and quit pestering me."

Gossimere entered the Brig and dismissed the on-duty guard. He placed the PADD he was carrying on a nearby desk and disabled computer monitoring in the room before saying anything to Rojc. "Interesting reading."

Rojc said nothing in reply.

"Where should we start? Withholding of information; abuse of Starfleet Intelligence authority; ignoring the Prime Directive; ill-regard for Starfleet protocol--have I missed anything?"

"I don't believe so, sir."

"This also lists all the names of the officers with full disclosure to your source information as well, correct?"

"Excellent." The Admiral drew his phaser and aimed it at Rojc before lowering the Security force-field. "Please rise."

The Doctor slammed her fists into her terminal as the computer blocked her attempt to open a connection to the Starbase. She cursed aloud.

"Doctor," began the Security guard as he entered the Sickbay office, "I'm going to have to ask you to stop attempting to make a transmission."

"I need to get in touch with the starbase, and now, Ensign." She turned her desktop terminal around for him to see.

The Ensign had a look of horror on his face. "Goetz to Bridge. Open a channel to the Starbase from sickbay, its an emergency."

Rojc stood apprehensively.

"Good. Now please step out of the cell."

"I don't understand, Admiral. Surely the council hasn't convened already to start my trial." "There won't be a trial, Commander. Not for you, and not for your officers." Gossimere smirked cruelly. "In your escape attempt, you will be thwarted and gunned down."

The realization struck Rojc like the phaser bolt that hit him. He had been right. It repeated in his mind over and over as things continued to get dark. He was right.

Rojc gasped and his eyes flew open. He tried to bolt upright but was restrained by a medical force field. He glanced around. "Senishra?" he croaked weakly.

"Doctor, he has awakened."

"What the--?" Rojc began.

"You were shot, Rojc. You're in Sickbay recovering. You've been unconscious for a week," answered Senishra. She smiled soothingly, "You're going to be fine."

"Gossimere--?"

Arona walked up. "He was a clone, Rojc. You were right all along about him being the infiltrator."

He grimaced from the pain on his chest. "And--?" he continued hoarsely.

"Starbase security responded in time to arrest him and get you transported to the Starbase sickbay. You wouldn't have survived if they hadn't managed to stabilize you."

Rojc grinned weakly and mouthed "thank you" before falling asleep again.

"What's his status, Doctor?"

"He's still in a regeneration cycle. Nothing to worry about, Senishra. I already told you that he'll be fine."