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As Kirk ponders the mystery of the enormous base, he begins to suspect that there is much more to Vanguard than meets the eye. It's a suspicion shared by the Tholians, the Orions, and the Klingon Empire, each of whom believes that there are less than benign motives behind the Federation's sudden and unexplained desire to explore and colonize the Taurus Reach.
But when a calamity deep within the Reach threatens to compromise Starfleet's continued presence in the region, Kirk, Spock, and several key specialists from the Enterprise must assist Vanguard's crew in investigating the cause of the disaster and containing the damage. In the process, they learn the true purpose behind the creation of Vanguard, and what the outcome of its mission may mean for life throughout that part of the galaxy.
Inside: Bonus diagrams of Vanguard station!
382 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published August 1, 2005
"`Good evening, Miss Sandesjo.'
She nodded politely, but her throat tightened. `Commander.'
T'Prynn walked in uninvited. The door closed behind her. Standing in front of Sandesjo, she drummed her fingertips once on the closed lid of the briefcase. `Working late?'
`Just finished,' she said.
`Good.' Moving with exaggerated slowness as if to prolong the moment, T'Prynn circled the table, trailing her right index finger along its edge. Her fingernail left a subtle gouge in the table's varnish. `Then I am free to take my time.'
Sandesjo was convinced that T'Prynn's dark brown eyes were staring clean through her pseudo-identity. The lithe Vulcan woman, who was slightly taller than Sandesjo to bein with, took advantage of the fact that the younger woman was seated and loomed over her. `Some things are best done by degrees,' T'Prynn said. `Do you concur?'
Sandesjo stared back with equal intensity. `Absolutely.'
T'Prynn's hand shot forward and grasped a fistful of Sandesjo's auburn hair. Sandesjo grabbed T'Prynn's arm and dug her fingernails into the skin. Twisting Sandesjo's hair as she pulled, T'Prynn yanked her, shrieking, from her chair and slammed her, back-first, against the wall.
The Vulcan woman's kiss was rough and hungry. Sandesjo reveled in it until their lips parted. They both breathed heavily and eyed each other through chaotic locks of ferally tousled hair. Sandesjo gasped for breath through a delighted smile. `You're early, my love.'
Saying nothing, T'Prynn gave Sandesjo's hair another hard, aphrodisiacal twist and kissed her again. Blissfully surrendering into her lover's embrace, Sandesjo savored the irony that not only had she forsaken Klingon tradition for the touch of other women, but that of all the women she might have loved she had lost her heart to a Vulcan.
Breaking free of the devouring kiss, T'Prynn tugged on Sandesjo's sleeve and, moving with the languid grace of a slow-dancing flame, led her toward the bedroom.
The inevitable, eternal reproach of her ancestors haunted Sandesjo's thoughts: They will never let me enter Sto-Vo-Kor. Sinking into the bed beside T'Prynn, however, she decided that the dishonor of her next life would be a small price to pay for such a love in this one.