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distortion. It’s mirroring around all sides of the haulers’ aft and cargo sections.”
    â€œWhat might that mean?”
    â€œYou might expect to find it, among other places, near a cloaked ship,” La Forge said. Galdor’s eyes widened, and the engineer instantly regretted the choice of examples. “But it’s really far more likely the warp drives of the haulers are out of flux. These are massive loads they’re moving—hell on the verterium compensators once you switch to impulse.”
    A quick hail from Havers to the lead Spectacle hauler confirmed that its crew, too, suspected a glitch. The lieutenant commander looked back to La Forge. “Should we have them stop?”
    La Forge hesitated—and saw a different kind of hesitation in Galdor. “The assembly of the Circle of Triumph is time-intensive, and without it all is lost.” The Klingon stared intently at La Forge. “Unless you truly think there is a danger, repairs might be better handled once they enter Gamaral orbit. That way, they can unload.”
    â€œIt’s not even clear they’ll need repairs,” La Forge said. “Old ships, big loads.” He turned back to Havers and nodded. The order to proceed was given.
    Galdor appeared relieved—and that relieved La Forge. He wasn’t as accustomed to handling diplomats as Picard was, but he could tell when it was time to put Occam’s Razor to work and wilder theories away. After all, what would be the odds that three haulers could be carrying four cloaked vessels each, clinging around them like bats perched in perfect symmetry?
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œWe’re through the Federation’s screen,” Valandris said over her comm system. Gamaral hung just outside her vessel’s viewport, resplendent in green and gray. “Host vessel is in geosynchronous orbit over the event site.”
    â€œAnd Starfleet’s envoy?”
    â€œKeeping watch but did not disturb us. And you were correct, master—she is Enterprise .”
    â€œ Enterprise . . . ” Valandris could not see the Fallen Lord’s face; even audio was a miracle to her, given her cloaked state and how far away he was. But he had said the word before in her presence, and it had always been a mouthful of poison to him. “How I despise that name,” he said. “You must be on your guard.”
    â€œWe do not fear—”
    â€œYou should. The Federation is the head. Starfleet is the ­muscle—and Enterprise the name given to the vessel manned by its most elite crew. This is no fat jinarkh , wallowing in the muck and waiting for you to cut its throat.”
    That sounded to Valandris like a challenge worthy of her. But she had other throats to cut first. And those would please her master just as much.

Eight
    N EAR THE C IRCLE OF T RIUMPH
    G AMARAL
    T here are better times for this , Worf thought as he watched the sunrise over Gamaral’s forests. Much better.
    He had put off telling Kahless the truth too long. There had never been a good time for it aboard Enterprise . Once the starship had arrived at Gamaral, there had been a flurry of activity, first coordinating with security in the system and on the ground, and then getting the venue on the ground squared away. By then, it was time for him and Kahless to transport down.
    The Federation Diplomatic Corps and the festival specialists had scouted the site: a naked spot on a low rise cleared more than a century earlier by a Klingon survey crew. It sat in a majestic temperate rainforest, with a hazy mountain looming directly to the east; Mount Qel’pec, the original cartographers had called it. When Worf and Kahless had arrived, the workers had already installed the marbled flooring for the circular plaza, with a small templelike structure at center. The big columns of the surrounding colonnade were now being transported into place. If all went according