Текст книги "Section 31: Rogue "

Автор книги: Andy Mangels

Соавторы: Michael Martin
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But there would be plenty of time to consider such things after the Chiarosan referendum. In the meantime, much remained to be accomplished.

Koval rose from his seat and approached Subcenturion V’Hari, the young woman who was monitoring the helm console. Though her collar did not bear the bureau’s insignia, she was, nevertheless, one of his most prized Tal Shiar staff officers, one of the many sets of clandestine eyes and ears he had positioned throughout the Praetor’s fleet. She was someone to whom he could entrust a great deal of privileged information. Most important, she refrained from prying into anything he chose deliberately notto tell her.

The subcenturion snapped to attention. “Sir?”

“I must inspect the main energy facility and witness the next series of full‑power tests,” he said, nodding toward the image on the screen. “Send the technicians who came into contact with the Starfleet escapees to meet me there for their debriefings.”

“It will be done, Mr. Chairman,” she said crisply.

“I will return to the Thrai Kalehwithin two days,” he said, and then left the control center.

Two days,he thought. At which time I will have a very important appointment to keep.

Chapter Ten

As soon as the Romulan scout ship touched down in the Enterprise’s shuttlebay, Crusher had the stillslumbering Grelun and the surviving Slaytoncrewmembers–including Corey Zweller–beamed directly to sickbay, where Dr. Anthony and Nurse Ogawa had been instructed to await their arrival. Leaving Riker in charge of securing the scout ship, Picard entered a turbolift, followed by Batanides. She was silent, almost brooding.

“Bridge,” Picard said wearily. The car began moving smoothly upward.

“Johnny, what do you intend to do with Grelun after he wakes up?”

“I want to hear his side of the Chiarosan conflict,” Picard said. “From what Riker, Troi, and Corey have already told us, Falhain’s indictment against Ruardh’s government may have real merit, after all.”

“Too bad the rebels conveniently relieved Corey of his tricorder before we could examine their alleged evidence,” she said acidly.

“Do you think Grelun’s people are fabricating the massacre stories? My first officer and counselor have made a pretty good case that they’re not.”

She sighed and seemed to let down her guard. “Since Aubin’s death I’m really not sure whatto believe.”

“But you don’t trust Grelun.”

“In my field, trust has to be earned. And I have trouble trusting people who’ve just tried to kill me.”

Picard nodded. “I understand that. And I also understand that they’re desperate people.”

“No doubt. But it still strikes me as strange that Grelun confiscated the evidence that might have convinced us that he’s in the right and Ruardh’s in the wrong.”

Picard felt the car change direction. Now it was moving horizontally toward the center of the ship. “It’s like you said, Marta. Trust has to be earned, and we have yet to earn Grelun’s. He sees us as in league with his sworn enemies. And from his own people’s point of view, we’ve just taken him hostage.”

“Then we’ve got to send him back to Chiaros IV as soon as possible,” she said. The turbolift shifted again, resuming its upward motion. “The longer he’s with us, the more tensions will escalate on Chiaros IV. And going down there again to gather new evidence to prove who’s in the right and who’s in the wrong is just going to make us targets for both sides.”

True,Picard thought. Up to now, every one of our encounters with Chiarosans has led to violence.

He looked her in the eye. “Believe me, I am excruciatingly aware of that.” He hadn’t been enthusiastic about Grelun’s capture in the first place, though he had understood the necessity of it after Will and Batanides had explained it during the flight back to the Enterprise.

“Then you agree we’ve got to send him home,” she said.

“Of course. Once Dr. Crusher has certified him fit to travel.” And after I speak with him. And Corey.

The doors opened, and Picard and Batanides stepped together onto the bridge.

Data rose from the command chair, an urgent expression on his pallid face. “Captain, we have just detected an extremely unusual energy reading, centered on Chiaros IV’s Nightside.”

“What sort of reading?” Picard said.

“It is difficult to be certain, given the atmospheric turbulence and magnetic field‑driven planetary radiation belts. But it appears that several Starfleet quantum torpedoes have just been detonated on the planet’s surface.”

Picard was taken aback. “That’s impossible.”

“We’re receiving a hail, sir,” Lieutenant Daniels said from one of the communications consoles. “It’s coming from the communications tether orbiting Chiaros IV. It’s First Protector Ruardh.”

“On‑screen, Lieutenant,” Picard said coolly, standing very straight in the center of the bridge.

The Chiarosan leader sat behind an impressive desk that appeared to have been carved from a single block of wood. An unabashed display of opulence,Picard thought, on a world with an ostensible lack of forested regions.Beside Ruardh stood Senator Curince, elbows bent backward and hands behind her back. Both women wore solemn expressions.

Ruardh spoke first. “Captain, I have just been told of the explosion on Nightside.”

“As have I, Madame Protector,” Picard said.

“There are many on my world who would like to thank you for at last locating and destroying the Army of Light’s principal military facility. Unfortunately, in the minds of many this development will also cast additional doubt upon the Federation’s motives. You see, our traditionalists prefer field‑of‑honor combat to guerrilla warfare.”

Picard shook his head. “Madame Protector, let me assure you that the Federation had nothing whatsoeverto do with that.”

“Please do not misunderstand me, Captain,” Ruardh said, holding up one exquisitely articulated hand. “I applaud what has happened. Whoever is responsible, the Army of Light now lacks the limbs to hold its blades. If you are responsible, then you have earned my thanks.”

“Madame Protector, the Federation does not try to curry favor with planetary governments by taking sides in internal disputes,” Picard said emphatically, his tone deliberate and measured. “Nor do we engage in sneak attacks.”

Curince displayed several rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. “Then we have an inconsistency. Ambassador T’Alik has informed me that the explosives used appear to be of Federation origin.”

“ ‘Appear’ is the operative word, Senator,” Picard said. “It would not be the first time the Romulans have attempted to misdirect the blame for their own actions.”

Ruardh looked puzzled. “ ‘Blame’? Why would they not wish to take the creditfor themselves?”

“You said yourself that the attack on Grelun’s base may actually compound the electorate’s growing anti‑Federation sentiment,” Picard replied. “If your ‘traditionalists’ were to see the hand of the Romulans in this, then the referendum might turn out very differently. I think you may have answered your own question, Madame Protector.”

Curince glared at him. “Perhaps,” she said, then paused. “Speaking of Falhain’s rebel successor, we have also been informed that he is now aboard your vessel.”

Information which also no doubt came from T’Alik,Picard thought. He was convinced that the Romulan ambassador knew far more about her own government’s covert activities on Chiaros IV than she was willing to admit.

Picard decided there was nothing to be gained by dissembling about the Chiarosan leader. “Grelun was seriously injured shortly before his base was destroyed,” he said. “He’s presently in our sickbay.”

“I trust that his wounds were not mortal,” Curince said, her voice flat.

“No, Senator. In fact, Dr. Crusher expects him to make a full recovery.”

Ruardh looked disappointed to hear that. “Captain, you will turn him over to my military guard,” she said in a low growl.

“I understand, Madame Protector. But first, I would like to know what will become of him.”

Ruardh’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “He will be dealt with as an enemy of the state according to Chiarosan law.” She didn’t need to tell them that meant a death sentence. “My government tried once already to reach out to Falhain and Grelun in friendship. You witnessed the results yourself.”

Picard had been afraid she might say something like this, but he wasn’t surprised. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Madame Protector,” he said.

Curince tipped her head with evident curiosity. “Are you refusing our lawful request, Captain? Surely, that would not be consistent with the vaunted neutrality of your Federation.”

“Let me assure you both, I have no intention of flouting your laws. However, my chief medical officer has yet to certify Grelun as ready to travel.”

Ruardh nodded, a disconcerting smile on her face. “Your physician is wise, Captain. No one should be consigned to the flames while infirm. Death must be faced with strength.”

“But please make no mistake, Captain,” Curince said. “The vote will go badly for you. And if you try to take Grelun with you when you withdraw from our world, a great deal morewill go badly for you.”

At a gesture from Ruardh, the two Chiarosans vanished from the screen. An orbital vista of their stormtossed homeworld replaced their images.

Batanides broke the silence that had fallen over the bridge. “You know I can’t let you keep Grelun aboard the Enterprisein defiance of the Chiarosan government.”

“The referendum is still two days away, Admiral. I have at least that long before it comes to that. But in the meantime, I can’t simply hand him over to someone who feels entitled to summarily execute him.”

“And what about afterthe referendum? If the Chiarosans throw us out, you won’t have the legal authority to make that decision.”

Picard was bitterly aware of that fact. But it changed nothing in his mind.

“You have the conn, Mr. Data,” he said, and then stalked back into the turbolift, Batanides following close behind.

Standing beside Grelun’s biobed, Crusher was methodically applying a dermal regenerator to wounds on the Chiarosan’s forearms; the burns began to vanish almost immediately. Picard glanced at the biobed readouts. To his untrained eye, the Chiarosan’s vital signs appeared strong.

A quartet of alert security personnel stood behind Crusher, watching vigilantly as she worked. Ensign Lynch, the head of the security detail, stared wide‑eyed at the Chiarosan, obviously impressed.

“He must mass a quarter of a ton,” Lynch said incredulously. “What I wouldn’t give to see him in action.”

Batanides scowled. “Ensign, you’d better pray that you never have to tangle with anything that big or mean outside of your daydreams.”

Lynch reddened slightly, as though chastised. But he did not avert his gaze from the slumbering Chiarosan.

Picard glanced to the other side of the sickbay, where Dr. Anthony, Dr. Gomp, Nurse Ogawa, and a pair of orderlies were tending to the various bumps and bruises suffered by Counselor Troi, Lieutenant Hawk, and several members of the Slaytoncrew, none of whom appeared to be grievously injured. Liz Kurlan, the Slayton’s xenoanthropologist, still had a livid bruise across her forehead. Chief Engineer Hearn took a tentative step on a newly repaired knee.

Picard noticed that Zweller was conspicuously absent, as was Riker.

Picard tapped his combadge. “Computer, locate Commander Cortin Zweller.”

“Commander Cortin Zweller is in the main shuttlebay,” the computer responded.

During the flight back to the Enterprise,Riker had mentioned Zweller’s propensity for cloak‑and‑dagger behavior. For a split second, he feared that Corey might be trying to flee the ship.

“Computer, is anyone with Commander Zweller?”

“Commander Zweller is with Commander Riker and Lieutenant Commander La Forge.”

Batanides approached Picard and spoke quietly. “At least we know he’s staying put. I think we ought to go to the shuttlebay and ask him for some details about what he saw down on Chiaros IV.”

“I quite agree,” Picard said quietly. “Then we can return to the problem of whether we can repatriate a guest whose government wants to murder him.” He nodded toward Grelun.

Suddenly, the Chiarosan began to move, as though roused by the captain’s words. His crystalline eyes fluttered open, darted quickly about the room, and locked with Picard’s. One of his large, bronzed hands reached upward toward Crusher, who backed away as Lynch and the other security officers drew their phasers. The forcefield restraints crackled against Grelun’s biceps and thighs, forcing him back against the table. He struggled again, this time throwing his body into the forcefield.

Through it all, his gaze never wavered from Picard’s.

“He’s going to kill himself if he keeps that up,” Crusher said. Moving with a dancer’s quickness, she emptied a hypospray into one of the Chiarosan’s treelike calves.

As he began slipping back into unconsciousness, Grelun whispered three clearly‑articulated syllables. From the shocked expressions on the other faces in the room, Picard knew instantly that he had heard the Chiarosan correctly, and that Batanides and Crusher had as well. No one else spoke for a long moment.

Finally, Batanides broke the silence. “Well, that certainly complicates things, Jean‑Luc.”

Picard nodded gently. “It changes everything.” But at least I’m no longer bound by law to hand this man over to his executioners, regardless of how the vote turns out.

“News travels fast on Chiaros IV,” Batanides said. “How do you think those people will react when they learn that a Starfleet captain has decided to harbor a known terrorist on the Federation’s flagship?”

Picard’s voice turned to sandpaper. “It won’t be pretty. But my duty under both interstellar law and Starfleet regulations is clear. Grelun will receive Federation protection pending a full investigation of Falhain’s allegations against Ruardh’s government. Referendum or no referendum.”

His options were sharply limited the moment the rebel leader had uttered a single word, the first he had spoken since coming aboard:

Asylum.

Chapter Eleven

Picard and Batanides entered the main shuttlebay, which currently held a pair of type‑9 personnel shuttlecraft in the flight deck, though neither was powered up at the moment. No other officers were present on the deck, which was as Picard had expected; at Batanides’s request, he had ordered the shuttlebay cleared. Apart from the two shuttles, the cavernous hangar was seemingly empty. Their footfalls reverberated loudly across the deck.

The Romulan scout ship was nowhere to be seen, which was also as Picard expected; it was cloaked, also at the admiral’s request.

Picard deplored having to take these sorts of precautions, but he understood their occasional necessity. During the trip back to the Enterprise,Batanides had made it clear to Commander Roget that his officers weren’t to speak to anyone about the scoutship. Given the fragile complexities of Chiarosan geopolitics, Picard thought her mandate for discretion was probably the wisest course. And despite his reticence about illegally operating a cloaking device, Picard nevertheless thought it prudent to give the Romulan vessel as low a profile as possible while it was aboard the Enterprise.

Picard tapped his combadge. “Number One, two to beam aboard the scoutship.”

“Acknowledged, Captain,” came the reply.

A moment later, Picard and Batanides stood in the small Romulan engine room, where Data, La Forge, and Zweller labored over a partially disassembled computer core. The three officers noted the presence of Picard and Batanides, but went back to their work after the captain made a subtle “as you were” gesture.

Riker, who was standing nearby, approached Picard and Batanides.

“Progress report, Number One,” Picard said.

“First, we’ve managed to stop the flow of tetryons from the warp core.”

“Good,” Picard said. “Those emissions might have defeated the purpose of activating the cloaking device.”

Batanides looked thoughtful. “This ship makes me wonder about something Ruardh said about the referendum.”

“What do you mean?” Picard said.

“I mean that if the outcome really could hinge on our producing proof that the Romulansare really the ones who are up to no good here . . .” Batanides made a broad gesture encompassing the entire room, then said, “. . . well, what more proof do we need than this ship?”

Zweller approached, shaking his head. “If we try to use this ship to prove that the Romulans have been backing the rebels, I think it’ll strike most Chiarosans as a bit too convenient.”

“How so?” Batanides said.

“I took a moment to review the electoral poll data,” Zweller said. “The Chiarosan electorate is a skeptical lot. Most of the voting populace thinks we’re so desperate, that we’d say or do just about anything in order to win them over now.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Picard said.

Batanides shook her head. “Very well. But I think you may be punting too early in the game.”

“Admiral, I think we have to look at the big picture here very carefully,” Picard said. “We mustn’t forget that the election is only a small part of the Romulans’ real agenda. I suspect that what they’re really after remains hidden elsewhere in the Chiaros system.”

“You mean behind the energy field,” Riker said, as La Forge and Data set aside their task and approached.

“Exactly, Number One. We may have to accept that the referendum is already lost. Therefore that ship will provide a tactical advantage rather than a political one.”

“You want to keep it in reserve,” La Forge said, smiling. “A ‘hole card.’ ”

“That’s right,” Picard said to the engineer. “And I want you and Data to find a way to play that card to our best advantage. We can use this ship to see what the Romulans are up to behind that energy barrier. And perhaps, if necessary, to put a stop to it.”

Batanides didn’t look entirely convinced. “If the referendum is already lost, then two days is all we have. That’s pretty slim timing.”

“We’ve done more with a great deal less,” Picard said.

“I must point out,” Data said, “that if we take the scoutship into the region the Romulans are concealing, we will not have the advantage of surprise. The Romulans are no doubt well aware that we have taken this craft. They are certain to be ready for us.”

Picard smiled. “Well, I didn’t say it would be easy,Mr. Data. Consider it a challenge.”

“I do indeed, sir.”

“We’ll get right on it, Captain,” La Forge said. “We can also modify another probe to look inside the energy screen, to get a better handle on what the scoutship’s got in store for it.”

Picard nodded his approval. “Make it so.” Geordi and Data excused themselves and returned to their work.

Zweller remained behind, looking intrigued. “I’d like to know more about this energy field you keep referring to, Johnny,” he said to Picard.

Picard studied his old Academy friend’s eager expression. Ordinarily, his impulse would have been to tell him everything he knew. But during the flight back to the Enterprise,he had seen how Zweller’s own colleagues had distrusted him. Riker, Troi, and Dr. Gomp had made him aware of their suspicions that Zweller had illegally aided the Chiarosan rebels; Gomp had even gone so far as to suggest that Zweller had prearranged their capture by the Army of Light.

Batanides was evidently having the same misgivings. “You’ll be briefed in due course, Commander,” she said coolly. “In the meantime, there are a few questions weneed to ask you.”

Picard couldn’t have agreed more.

Turning back toward Riker, he said, “Please ask Counselor Troi to come to my ready room, Number One. Immediately.”

“What the hell kind of reunion is this anyway, Johnny?” Zweller said, looking surprised. “What exactly is going on here?”

“That’s something I’d like to know as well.” Picard spread his hands across the ready‑room desk and settled back in his chair. Batanides and Troi sat on the sofa on the other side of the small room. Both women were looking intently at Zweller, who stood with his arms at his sides, fists clenched.

“Your shipmates have leveled some very serious charges at you, Corey,” Batanides said.

“Is this an interrogation, Marta?” Zweller said angrily.

Picard sighed. He would have thought that forty‑plus years of starship duty might have mellowed his old friend’s youthful hotheadedness.

“No one is interrogating you, Corey,” Batanides said, leaving an unspoken but obvious yethanging in the air.

“Nevertheless,” Picard said, “these charges areserious, and must be answered. And there’s also the matter of your DNA having been found on the combadges we recovered after the fight in HagratИ. The circumstantial evidence would suggest that it was youwho removed those combadges from Commander Riker and Counselor Troi after they were struck unconscious in the melee.”

“I noticed that Chiarosan disruptors can lock onto subspace signals,” Zweller said, nodding. To Troi, he added, “Don’t bother to thankme for saving your lives.”

Picard considered that for a moment. “If that’s so, then you certainly have earned mythanks. But Counselor Troi and Commander Riker have both told me that Grelun granted you privileges that he denied to his other prisoners. So I still must ask you: Did you supply arms or assistance to the Army of Light?”

Zweller pointed at Troi. “Why don’t you get the answer from your Betazoid? You obviously don’t have any faith that I’m going to tell you the truth, or else you wouldn’t have sicced a telepath on me.”

“I’m only half‑Betazoid, Mr. Zweller,” Troi said calmly. “I can only pick up emotions, not specific thoughts.”

“And what is it you’re ‘picking up’ from me?”

“I sense mainly that you are a master of evasion. As well as a skilled manipulator of people. And of the truth.”

“Come now, Counselor,” Zweller said, his lips turning upward in an asymmetrical half‑smile. “In my experience, that description could fit just about any front‑line Starfleet officer who’s managed to stay alive as long as I have. Present company excepted, of course.”

Picard bridled at Zweller’s verbal jab, but said nothing. There was no point in allowing his old friend to provoke him into losing control of the conversation. Batanides also allowed the comment to pass unanswered.

“Commander,” Troi said, unflappably patient, “I’ve known ever since we were confined together that you’ve been concealing something significant. All I’ve ever sensed from you is a superficial emotional veneer, almost as though you were able to consciously block my empathic abilities.”

Zweller adopted a sincere expression that belied his words. “Now that wouldbe a remarkable talent. On the other hand, I may just be an extremely shallow person. Maybe there’s nothing underneath that ‘emotional veneer,’ as you call it.”

Or perhaps it conceals hidden compartments,Picard thought. Like a smuggler’s cargo hold.

Turning toward Picard, Troi said, “I don’t think I’m going to be of any help to you here, Captain. Perhaps it would be better if I started interviewing the other Slaytonsurvivors instead.”

“Very well,” Picard said. “Make it so.”

As Troi got up to leave the ready room, Zweller spoke to her back. “Good idea, Counselor. I knew you’d get around to helping those traumatized people eventually.”

Troi paused in the open doorway for a moment as though contemplating a rejoinder. Then, apparently realizing the futility of the gesture, she departed.

Picard was alone with his two oldest friends for the first time in more than four decades. It struck him then just how profoundly time could change a man. Yes, this Corey Zweller was still a hothead, as he had been at Starfleet Academy; but the loyal, to‑Hell‑and‑back Cortin Zweller, the comrade‑at‑arms who had fought the Nausicaans at Bonestell so long ago, thatCortin Zweller had never made such blatant stabs at a colleague’s emotional buttons.

“Corey . . . did you give the rebels weapons?” Batanides said, beginning to lose her patience.

Zweller answered with exasperating serenity. “Don’t you think Grelun would have shown me a little more gratitude if I had?”

“Not if he thought you were selling him out to Ruardh,” Picard said.

Zweller sat down in one of the seats between the sofa and Picard’s desk. Focusing his gaze on the viewport, he said, “Grelun suffers from a freedom fighter’s paranoia. When he caught me hacking into the rebel base’s command systems, he naturally assumed the worst.”

“And why were you doing that?” Batanides said.

“I was a prisoner, just like my crewmates. And a prisoner’s first duty is to escape.”

Batanides studied him with obvious skepticism. “Some of your crewmates don’t seem to believe that, Corey. Dr. Gomp told me that you’d received special treatment from your jailers all along.”

“Must have been that vaunted ‘mastery of manipulation’ the counselor says I excel in,” Zweller said dismissively. Turning toward Picard, he said, “C’mon, Johnny, don’t tell me you’ve never charmed your way into an adversary’s good graces before turning the tables on him.”

Picard felt his own fund of patience beginning to run out. “Not by violating my oath as a Starfleet officer.”

“If I didbend a regulation or two,” Zweller said, “then you can rest assured that I did it in the service of a greater good.”

“You mean the Army of Light’s struggle against Ruardh’s government,” Batanides said.

“If you like,” replied Zweller quietly, nodding slightly.

Batanides scowled. “I thought you said Grelun was an adversary.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to know exactly what that means, isn’t it?” Zweller said tartly. “You won’t find any angels on Chiaros IV, Marta. Everyone’shands get bloody in a civil war.”

How ironic,Picard thought, that Chiarosan blood is gray.

He decided to try a placating tone. “Corey, please. You have to admit that you aren’t being very forthcoming. You still haven’t answered our primary question. For the sake of the friendship the three of us shared, I would have hoped that you’d–”

Zweller interrupted gently. “That’s exactlywhy I can’t tell you anything more, Johnny. If you keep probing into whatever I might or might not have done down there, you’re only going to put yourselves in harm’s way. Frankly, I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that.”

“Corey, that almost sounds like a threat,” Picard said, taken aback.

Zweller shook his head, then paused to gather his thoughts. “Could I speak absolutely candidly to both of you for a moment?” he said finally.

“That would be a nice change,” Batanides said. She was not smiling.

“All you have is the hearsay of two of your officers and the word of an obstreperous Tellarite doctor against mine. You’ve got no proof of anything–even with an empathin the room! So if you’re not prepared to arrest me and convene a general hearing, I respectfully suggest that you both let this matter lie.”

Picard watched as Batanides silently fumed. He realized that Zweller had outmaneuvered them. For now.

“All right, Corey,” Picard said at length. “I willput this matter aside. But only until Grelun or some of your colleagues from the Slaytoncan shed some more light onto it.”

“Thank you,” Zweller said, his emotions inaccessible.

“You are dismissed, Commander,” Batanides said icily.

Pained that his old friend would not reach out to him, Picard watched in silence as Zweller exited the ready room.

Feeling weary, Zweller entered the quarters Riker had issued him. Picard’s first officer had strongly suggested that he remain there pending the resolution of the political business on Chiaros IV. Noting that he didn’t actually seem to be under arrest, Zweller decided he was too tired to argue the point tonight. He’d take the matter up directly with Johnny in the morning.

Ensconced in his quarters, Zweller contacted La Forge to request information about the huge volume of space the Romulans were apparently concealing. Though the engineer had seemed a bit overworked and harried, he had promptly uploaded the relevant observational data into Zweller’s computer terminal. Though there was no conclusive information about what the Romulans were doing behind the vast invisibility screen they had constructed out in the Chiaros system’s far reaches, they were clearly using it to hide an artificial construct of some sort.

Zweller waded through the data late into the ship’s night, a worm of apprehension turning deep in his gut as he read. The Slayton’s crew had not detected the cloaking field before Zweller and his crewmates had taken the shuttlecraft Archimedesdown to Chiaros IV.

If they had, Zweller thought as sleep finally began to take him, then Section 31 might never have struck its deal with Koval.

Picard was not surprised in the least to learn that Romulan Ambassador T’Alik wished to meet with him. What didsurprise him was that the ambassador had waited an entire day to respond to his acquisition of the officially nonexistent Romulan scoutship.

It was shortly after 0800 when Batanides and Troi entered the ready room, where Picard was already seated behind his desk, sipping a cup of Earl Grey. Lieutenant Daniels signaled from the bridge that the Romulan delegation had been beamed aboard and was on its way.

Picard smiled over his teacup at the two women, who seated themselves on the ready‑room couch.

“This should be good,” Picard said, smiling mischievously for a moment before restoring the impassive demeanor of interstellar diplomacy. Troi and Batanides did likewise.

Moments later, a pair of security guards escorted T’Alik and her assistant, V’Riln, into Picard’s ready room. Picard noted that V’Riln was the very same Romulan whose life he had saved during the armed contretemps in HagratИ. V’Riln nodded curtly to him, but there was no hint of gratitude in his eyes. You’re quite welcome,the captain thought wryly.

Picard did not rise from his chair, nor did he offer T’Alik or V’Riln a place to sit. He knew there was nothing to be gained by making them unnecessarily comfortable.

“Madame Ambassador,” Picard said simply.

“Captain,” the Romulan responded, unsmiling.

“Allow me to introduce Vice‑Admiral Batanides of Starfleet Intelligence. And you have already met my ship’s counselor, Commander Troi.”

T’Alik bowed her head in courtly fashion. “Admiral. Counselor.”