Timeout

In the High Council chambers, there was witnessed... an event.

Extremists in the Klingon military had been giving the Federation, and Starfleet, trouble for several years now... ever since the former chancellor, Martok, agreed to talks of formal unification with the Federation, back in the 2380s.  Talking was as far as it went.  He didn't remain chancellor much longer after that.  Repeatedly, throughout history, the Klingons had resisted Federation membership.  They adopted peace; they signed treaties and accords; Qo'noS was practically a member in everything but name.  More and more Klingons served in the Federation Starfleet, nowadays.  But still, they would not take that final step... as if doing so signaled surrender, a loss of autonomy.

Those who vehemently opposed the idea, did so, vehemently.  Nothing less could be expected of a Klingon dedicated to a goal.

They weren't the only ones who felt like that, about Federation membership.

The Romulan Republic had yet to formally unite with the Federation... if it would ever happen.  And when Romulans opposed an idea, they did so with as much dedication, voraciousness and passion as Klingons.  Perhaps more so.

Several Cardassian leftists reacted similarly, when Cardassia joined the Federation.  They had been lobbying and campaigning for Cardassia's secession, ever since it was first announced, in 2381, that the remains of Cardassia's empire would be subsumed into Federation territory.

In the two decades since, they became more and more determined, these extremists.  And like the saying went: Build it, and they will come.  Build an idea, and it would attract others.

One such idea was Federation membership.  The future was already known, to some.  2553.  It would happen by then.  Qo'noS would be part of the Federation.  It was inevitable.

Until then, those who didn't know had gathered, here, in the chambers of the Klingon High Council, on Qo'noS... an unexpected sight: Klingons, Romulans, and Cardassians... all on the same wavelength, discussing the same subject: Resistance against the Federation.  The first such meeting ever, in history.

On one side, a Klingon male stood among his fellows.  His eyes casually glanced towards a Romulan female, across the room, on the other side... neither letting their thoughts influence their expressions.

~You make a good-looking Romulan,~ Rampart sent to his partner, via complant, on a secured frequency.

~Better than you as a Klingon,~ Vyra returned.  Her tone sent a message, intimating what he could do with his teeth to her anatomy... her usual warm friendly self.  ~And as usual, you waste time on frivolous thoughts.  Or perhaps you're thinking of another.~  The 'Romulan' woman's head turned, towards that 'other'.

Rampart couldn't argue.  There, further down from Vyra, stood Vor'ana... his ex-wife by Romulan law, still his wife under UFP law.  Definitely the best-looking Romulan in the room.  This was the last place he expected to find her.  He'd thought Aos would have been it, the last place he'd find her, but he shouldn't have been surprised after that.  After tracking her activities and whereabouts for the last couple years, nothing she did surprised him anymore.

Except this.  Politics was never her bag.  She must have hated it, being forced to stand there and listen to her countrymen, along with their Klingon and Cardassian counterparts, prattle on about the 'injustices' of Federation supremacy.  As much as Rampart hated it.  If so, she hid it well, with that typical Romulan stoicism, face masked by a sense of duty.

He wanted to laugh and step forward, wave a hand and yell 'Hey! Look at me!', then whip off the disguise.  They didn't know this room was not so well shielded and protected against outside observation, as they believed.  Back at headquarters, this entire gathering was being recorded.  There was nothing they or anyone could do, that someone, somewhere else, couldn't learn about.  Nor did they know that their anti-temporal measures had been hacked, and subverted.  Vor'ana had been busy... using what she learned in the DTA as a means of defense, against the Federation's prying.  She was smart.  She knew, or at least suspected and anticipated, that Rampart or other DTAgents might show up here.  Of course she'd know... with what she had taken from him.

Too bad the others didn't share her intelligence.  Didn't they know by now, the Federation had the best in everything?  It was why the Federation always won.  But then, of course, they knew that also.  That was why they were here – trying to figure out how to use it.

Vor'ana sported a Romulan uniform, but he knew she hadn't joined the military.  She was back to acting as a rogue agent – which was to say, Tal Shiar.  Ever since the Romulan government outlawed the Tal Shiar, they were all rogues.  Here in support of one of those windbags, currently out on the floor, making speeches and motions.

Normally this wouldn't be a DTA affair.  Federation security and intelligence would handle it... and they had their own agents about.  They could deal with the mess afterwards.  Rampart knew the reason everyone else was here.  And he knew the reason he and Vyra came.  One had little to do with the other.  Vor'ana took something from him, and he came to get it back.  None of them would leave this chamber until he did.

~We should move on her now~, Vyra said.

~Yeah~, Rampart agreed.  ~Before this goes any further.  Ready?~

Vyra silently consented, and sent the signal.

The room froze.  The various delegates, Klingons, Cardassians, Romulans, fell silent, mouths open or closed, not moving.  Rampart and Vyra stepped out of their respective places, converging on Vor'ana.

"We still need to know what they planned to do with these 'subatoms' you described," Vyra said.

"We know enough."  Rampart materialized a holoscanner, examining the frozen form of his wife/ex-wife.  "They'll do nothing."  The scan displayed its results and he initiated the transfer.  A tingling feeling swept through him.  "Now that they're back where they belong."

"What about her?  Should we just leave her?"

Rampart considered it.  He knew Vyra wanted to.  He was going to say yes... but standing there, looking into Vor'ana's dark diamond eyes, he felt that old sense of longing... of needing her.  He missed her.  He had never stopped loving her.  Bringing her back wouldn't change anything – but leaving her might not be the best choice for her, either.  Her employers wouldn't take kindly to her failure to supply the subatoms, the one 'edge' they had, and would have no longer, against the Federation.  He would still try to do what was best for her, whether she wanted his help or not.

"Let's bring her."