Текст книги "Section 31: Rogue "

Автор книги: Andy Mangels

Соавторы: Michael Martin
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

He mulled these self‑recriminations over as he watched Lieutenant Hawk and most of the other officers file out of Stellar Cartography. He wondered if Hawk had said anything to Picard or Batanides about their conversation on the scoutship–and which way Hawk’s loyalties would ultimately lead him.

Suddenly, Zweller noticed Counselor Troi’s appraising stare. Hurriedly, he reinforced his mental shields. Had he allowed his regrets to compromise him?

Troi spoke briefly–too softly for Zweller to overhear– to both Picard and Batanides. A moment later, the captain approached Zweller, regarding him with a taut expression.

“Please wait for us in the aft observation lounge, Commander. I think there’s still some unfinished business left over from our previous conversation.”

Zweller’s pulse thundered in his ears as he left the chamber, alone. He knew he had to be the principal topic of whatever conversation was now occurring in the room behind him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and the flames of the singularity blazed behind his eyelids. What a waste,he thought, to banish such a useful thing forever into subspace. There has to be a better alternative.

He decided to speak to Lieutenant Hawk about that at the earliest opportunity.

Chapter Thirteen

“Are you sure of this, Counselor?” Picard asked, his voice booming across the nearly empty Stellar Cartography room.

“Not entirely, sir,” Troi admitted. “The feelings I got during the meeting were so fleeting that I only have vague impressions.” She hated sounding so equivocal, but she knew that evaluating the emotions of others was far from an exact science.

“Just because you sensed feelings of betrayal coming from Commander Zweller doesn’t necessarily mean he’s working with the enemy, Counselor,” said Batanides, her expression showing slight annoyance.

“All the same, Marta, we both know that Corey’s story hasn’t been adding up.” Picard splayed his fingers on the dais railing and stared down at them. “Was he working with Falhain’s rebels or was he just playing along to find a way to free his fellow officers? Did he provide them with weapons? How much does he know about the Romulans’ involvement in this sector? What isn’t he telling us?”

“I’m afraid I can’t be of much help, Captain,” Troi said. “According to his records, Commander Zweller is a nontelepathic human, but he apparently knows how to erect mental shields.”

“Maybe some people just don’t like to have their minds probed without permission,”Batanides said testily, crossing her arms. “In Starfleet Intelligence circles, it’s not uncommon to protect oneself against Betazoids, Ullians, Vulcans, or other telepaths.”

Troi knew that the admiral had been uncomfortable around her ever since her return; she assumed it was most likely because of what Batanides had learned about her lover and his possible provocative actions at the peace conference. The counselor momentarily considered confronting the senior officer with this observation, but decided against it. Best to let the matter drop.

“Sir, I still have more work to do helping the Slaytonsurvivors. Is there anything else I can help with?”

Picard nodded to her, his eyes darting momentarily to Batanides. “No. Thank you, Deanna. I’ll . . . we’lltake your concerns under advisement.”

With a curt nod, Troi backed away and stepped through the door and into the corridor. She scarcely needed her Betazoid abilities to interpret the admiral’s hostile parting glare.

The doors to the aft observation lounge parted with a faint pneumatic hiss, and Picard strode in, the admiral at his side. Picard found Cortin Zweller standing in the dimly lit chamber, staring idly at the sparse starfield that lay beyond the Enterprise’s stern. Zweller turned desultorily toward him, and the captain stared at his friend for a moment, searching his eyes, looking for some sign that things were not as confused as he feared. But all he saw was a carefully blank countenance, a Vulcan‑like mask that concealed all emotion.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. Picard sighed heavily. “We need to talk, Corey. Just you and me and Marta.”

“Again?What about, exactly?”

“I think you know,” said Picard. He sat behind the long, low table, and gestured for Zweller to take a seat across the table from him. Batanides sat beside Picard, her hands steepled under her chin as she studied each of her old friends in turn.

“There are still some troubling . . . inconsistencies in your accounts of your time on Chiaros IV,” Picard said.

“Such as? Have you gotten new information from Grelun? Or has my esteemed colleague Dr. Gomp renewed his campaign of character assassination?”

Batanides spoke up then. “Grelun’s not talking much. And none of your ‘esteemed colleagues’ seem to have a very high opinion of you right now.”

Zweller snorted, but the admiral pressed on. “ Everyone seems convinced that you worked closely with Falhain and Grelun both, aiding the Army of Light rebels in their fight against Ruardh.”

“I’ve said as much. I freely admit that I helped them somewhat,” Zweller said, leaning back in his chair. “The only way I was going to get my fellow crewmembers off that planet was to pretend to work with them until such time as I could seize an opening and escape.”

“What lengths were you willing to go to before your attempted escape, Corey?” Batanides asked. “Did you provide them with the weaponry that they used in the attacks on the peace conference? Or the other attacks on Ruardh’s forces? And why did you aid them in kidnapping the Enterpriseofficers?”

“Whoa, slow down, Marta. One question at a time. They already had some weapons when I was captured– when wewere captured. I assume they may have gotten them from the Romulans. It didn’t seem particularly important where they got them at the time, just that they hadthem. And I did not participate directly in the melee at the peace conference–”

Picard was incredulous, and interrupted his friend. “Then how did you remove Riker’s and Troi’s combadges?”

Zweller’s jaw clenched, almost imperceptibly, and he spoke again, his voice as carefully modulated as before. “I said that I did not participate directlyin the melee. I was with Grelun’s troops in an antechamber, trying to keep them calm while their leaders negotiated. I hoped that all of us from the Slaytonwould be released if the talks went well. When the fighting began–which, I might add, was notprecipitated by any of Falhain’s men–I bullied aside two of my guards to rescue Riker and Troi before they could be killed. I still don’t know whostarted the attack, Jean‑Luc. But I was trying to save your officers’ lives!”

Batanides’s voice was stony. “Why did you remove their combadges? You allowed them to be taken prisoner.”

“It all happened very fast. I grabbed the combadges because I thought Ruardh’s people were behind the attack. I already told you: They could have used the combadges as automatic target locks and killed Riker and Troi. You have to admit that the creation of Federation martyrs would have given Chiaros IV’s pro‑Federation faction a real boost.”

Picard wasn’t entirely convinced by the argument. But Zweller’s easy facility for providing plausible‑sounding answers impressed him. The captain leaned forward and pitched his voice low. “Corey, did you come to believe in Falhain’s cause?”

“Do you mean did I think that Ruardh’s regime was an oppressive, murderous, genocidal government that the Federation shouldn’t ally itself with?” His eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

Picard sat back in surprise as Zweller stood and began pacing. “I saw what they did to the Chiarosan villagers,” the commander said. “So did Riker and Troi; they witnessed what was left of one settlement. They toldyou about it. There are only so many charred bodies of men, women, and children you can see–slaughtered for no reasons other than resource‑greed and politics–before you begin to know that something is fundamentally wrong.”

Zweller turned to look at Picard. “The Federation wasn’t thorough in their investigation of this world before they began the process of acceptance, Johnny. They were more concerned with beating the Romulans to the punch. But they chose the wrong side this time. And not everyoneat Starfleet disagrees with me.”

He paused for a moment, and looked Batanides squarely in the eyes. “Not even everyone in Starfleet Intelligence.”

“What?” The admiral stood, an expression of amazement on her face.

Zweller appeared unfazed. “You haven’t asked me about the Romulans yet. Did I know that they were working with Falhain?”

Picard’s mind raced as he tried to formulate a line of questioning for thisnew revelation. He went with the most obvious choice first: “Didyou know about them?”

“Of course I did. Certain echelons of Starfleet knew about them. You’d have to be dense not to at least suspect it.”

“There’s a fine line between suspecting and knowing,” Picard said harshly.

“You keep bringing Starfleet into it as if that justifies your actions,” said Batanides. “I hate to be so blunt, Corey, but you’re only a science officer. I think that Johnny, as a starship captain, or myself, as a vice‑admiral in Intelligence, might have some better firsthand knowledge of Starfleet’s intentions.”

Zweller took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then opened them and spoke in a quick, precise cadence. “I was billeted to the Slaytonto help facilitate my other assignment. My realassignment. That mission was to find out what was really happening on Chiaros IV, by any means necessary–including infiltrating the rebel factions–and to let the Federation know exactly who they were getting into bed with.”

Batanides’s eyes widened. “Your mission for whom?What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss my orders, or exactly to whom I’m reporting,” Zweller said coolly. “Let’s just say that I’ve been working on behalf of an unspecified branch of Starfleet Intelligence, and leave it at that.”

“So you’ve lied to us again,” Picard added, feeling pained and more than a little angry. “Everything you’ve told us thus far is just another string of–”

Zweller interrupted. “I’ve told you what you needed to know, Jean‑Luc. In fact, I’ve probably told you too much.”

“Too much?” Picard said, his ire threatening to boil over. “Your ship was destroyed. Your people were taken captive, as were some of mine. I’ve narrowly escaped death twice, and Marta’s fiancИ was not so fortunate. The Chiarosans are voting right now to reject Federation membership, which will leave this entire sector at the mercy of the Romulans, who have just found a way to use this system to make their fleets unstoppable!” Picard paused, letting the enormity of his accusation sink in. Glaring, he continued. “I think you haven’t told us nearly enough,Commander.”

Zweller turned his back to his friends, and walked over to the viewing window, staring out at the sparse sea of stars floating in the blackness. Finally, he spoke. “None of this was supposed to happen. Certainly not the Slayton’s destruction or the ambassador’s death. And nobodyknew about the subspace singularity.”

He paused and put one hand to the back of his neck, before speaking again. “As for the fate of Chiaros IV, I don’t believe that its destiny has ever lain with the Federation. Ruardh’s brutality would have been a black eye on the UFP’s peaceful, smiling face. The planet was a write‑off before you ever got here.”

Batanides’s tone was wrathful. “Are you saying that Aubin died for nothing?”

“No. I’m saying that a deal had already been brokered to hand Chiaros IV over to the Romulans. At the time, my superiors believed that the only result of Romulan annexation would be the loss of an expanse of space that perfectly defines the term ‘void.’ As I said, no one knew about the singularity.”

Picard became aware that his mouth was hanging open in surprise. He shut it with an audible snap, then spoke again. “You said that these supposed higher‑ups in Starfleet had made a deal. What were weallegedly getting in exchange for handing this system over to the Romulans?”

“The Romulan Tal Shiar was going to furnish a list of all Romulan intelligence operatives working inside the Federation. Prior to the discovery of the subspace singularity, it had looked like a pretty good deal.” Zweller picked at a loose thread on his tunic, a mannerism so casual that the revelations he was sharing might have been something as innocuous as soufflИ recipes. Picard wasn’t sure what angered him the most, the secrets, the lies, or Zweller’s cavalier attitude.

“I’m to meet with Tal Shiar Chairman Koval at a remote location in the Chiarosan asteroid belt immediately after the Romulans win the referendum,” Zweller said. “There, he’ll give me a data chip containing the list.”

“In other words, you’re betraying the Federation to the Romulans for a chip?”Batanides said, her voice taut.

Zweller’s face and voice betrayed only a flicker of emotion as he leaned forward, hands on the table. “No, Marta. I’m acting on behalf of an agency whose highest priority is the Federation’s security. As far as my superiors knew, my mission would have cost us little and benefited us greatly.”

“You know as well as I do that those Romulan agents are probably set to be purged anyhow,” she replied. “And that there are probably innocents on that list who will be removed from their posts or charged with conspiracy so that the Romulans can replace them with their own people.”

“I don’t think that any Starfleet Intelligence operatives will be charging forward blindly to arrest and prosecute everyone on the list without first–”

“Enough!” Picard slammed both hands down on the table, scowling at his two oldest friends. He had a hard time swallowing everything Zweller had just told him; on the other hand, he certainly couldn’t dismiss out of hand the commander’s charges against Ruardh’s government. Riker and Troi had corroborated that part of Zweller’s story, after all.

The captain turned toward the admiral and spoke, his tone measured. “We must salvage as much of this situation as possible. I think it’s clear now that Ruardh and her government have been concealing their ethnic cleansing pogroms from us all along. And now that the rebel headquarters have been destroyed–regardless of who is responsible–the people seem certain to reject Federation membership, and perhaps even Ruardh’s continued rule. I’m afraid I must agree that the loss of Chiaros IV seems a foregone conclusion at this point.”

He switched his gaze from Batanides to Zweller, and continued. “You’ve obfuscated the truth so much, Corey, that I almost don’t know what to believe anymore. Except for this: Your exchange with the Romulans must go ahead as planned.”

“What?Why?” Batanides appeared dumbfounded. Zweller looked surprised as well.

“Marta, if the Romulans are playing straight with Corey,” Picard said, “then we’ll at least get that list of spies. Corey’s extralegal skulduggery and the loss of the Slaytonwon’t have been entirely in vain.” Picard observed Corey wince almost imperceptibly at the mention of his destroyed starship; he didn’t need Troi’s talents to notice Zweller’s obvious burden of self‑recrimination, deserved or not.

Picard looked at Batanides, who seemed to be weighing his words carefully. After a moment, she nodded and said, “I think you and I are finally on the same page, Johnny, though I have to confess to some surprise to hear you sanctioning a covert operation.”

Picard’s memory conjured images of his capture on the planet Celtris III four years ago, during a secret mission to find a Cardassian metagenic weapon; he fleetingly recalled the horrendous torments, both physical and psychological, he had endured at the hands of his inquisitor, Gul Madred.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Picard said, his throat suddenly dry.

Batanides shrugged. “Be that as it may, you left out an important detail.”

“What’s that?” Picard said, his brow wrinkling.

“I’m going with him,” she replied.

Now it was Picard’s turn to be surprised. “Actually, I was thinking that Ishould be the one to go, Marta.”

“You’re not an intelligence officer, Johnny,” she said, a sly smile crinkling the corners of her mouth. “I am. And I outrank you, so please don’t bother arguing.”

“I suppose you are the best choice to . . . render aid to Mr. Zweller should he need it,” Picard said, admitting defeat. And to keep an eye on him in case he has any other tricks up his sleeve.Picard knew that he didn’t need to say that out loud; he assumed that both Batanides and Zweller were already thinking it as their reflections regarded each other appraisingly across the polished tabletop.

Breaking the silence, Picard said, “Still, I have to point out that there’s some real danger here.” Batanides flashed him a no kidding?look of mock surprise; he ignored it and continued. “While we’re trying to neutralize the singularity, we’ll stand a greater chance of success if we can divert the Romulans’ attention elsewhere.”

“Onto the two of us,” Batanides said.

“In other words,” Zweller said acerbically, “we’re going to serve as a distraction.”

Picard ignored the comment. “You’ll be issued a shuttle so you can make your rendezvous at the appointed time.”

The captain’s combadge suddenly chirped, and Will Riker’s voice issued from it. “Captain, I think we’ve finally got some good news. Geordi has worked out the details of his plan for dealing with the singularity.”

And not a moment too soon,Picard thought. “Splendid, Number One. I’ll join you on the bridge in a moment.”

Rising from his chair, Picard took a last look at his two friends and fleetingly saw them as they had once been–rousingly ebullient and slightly rebellious cadets.

How time and politics change us all.

“It is vitally important that you keep the Romulans occupied,” he said, straightening his tunic as he prepared to exit the observation lounge. “And personally, for me . . . it’s equally as important that bothof you return from your appointment alive. We’ll deal with these othermatters . . . later.”

If thereis a ‘later’ for the three of us,Picard thought as he strode down the corridor.

The silence in the room was palpable after Picard departed. Batanides’s thoughts were awhirl as she tried to make sense of the revelations to which she had just been made privy. She looked over at Zweller, who was now slumped in his chair, refusing to meet her gaze.

He spoke first. “I’m sorry, Marta. It wasn’t my intention to have this all go south. I’d do anything to bring the crew of the Slaytonback, and Aubin was–”

“Don’t.” Her voice was firm and unyielding. “Don’t you dare bring Aubin into your–” And then it hit her. Troi’s premonition of danger at the peace conference, when she had pushed Picard to safety. The emotionamplifying chip and its contents, as described by the android. Some of the things Aubin had said and done on this mission. Before now, none of them had connected. Now, though she didn’t want to think it, the words came into her head in a flood. Aubin was Cory’s partner in sabotaging the Chiarosan peace talks.

Steeling her nerves, she began moving around the conference table toward Zweller. “He was working with you, wasn’t he?” she asked.

Zweller looked up at her, a flicker of surprise in his gaze. She was glad to see that for once in the last hour, she had been the one to surprise him.She continued: “He was part of your group. He didn’t come here to promote peace, he came here to help end Ruardh’s regime and lose the Geminus Gulf to the Romulans.”

“He was doing what was bestfor the Federation, Marta. He was following his orders.”

She began to turn, then brought her left hand up in a clenched fist. Her blow connected to Zweller’s jaw with a crack, and he went cartwheeling backward, out of his chair.

Sprawling, the commander rubbed his jaw. “Ow,” he said simply.

“Get up too soon and I’ll knock you right back on your ass, Corey.” Batanides massaged her fist a bit, and looked down at her friend. “How shouldI react? First I find out that one of my oldest friends has betrayed his ideals and is collaborating with the Romulans. And now I find out that the man I loved–who was slaughtered in the midst of a peace initiative–is just as much a traitor to everything I believe in!”

“I’m nota traitor, Marta,” he said emphatically, holding his hands up, palms outward, as if to ward off any further blows. “And neither was Aubin. We were following orders from Starfleet, orders that worked to the benefit of the Federation.”

“Oh, yes, I can see the big benefit. A starship and her crew destroyed. Countless Chiarosans dead. A famed ambassador murdered. The fleet’s flagship about to be booted out of the system, unless, of course, we go to warover a rebel prisoner who has requested asylum. Have I missedany of your benefits?

“And who exactly was it who cut your cloak‑anddagger orders, Corey? I’m a flag officer in Starfleet Intelligence! Don’t you think Iwould know about any clandestine deals with the Romulans?”

“You know as well as I do that there are branches of Starfleet that are more . . . covert than Intelligence.”

Batanides seemed unconvinced. “Shadowy government bureaus may be all the rage for your buddies, the Romulans, or some of the other warlike cultures, but they haven’t existed on Earth since the twenty‑first century.”

Zweller sighed, then stood, keeping a discreet distance from the admiral’s striking range. “What do you want to hear, Marta? That you’re right?That those in power have never seen a need to secretly bend the rules that they uphold in public? That even Starfleet Intelligence has never stepped over the line to protect the Federation from its enemies? What is it you want to hear?”

Squaring her shoulders, Batanides looked her compatriot in the eyes. She had to say the words out loud, though she feared even thinking them. For years she had heard the rumors of a shadowy group of operatives; now, she might have been in bed with them, literally and figuratively.

“Tell me there is no Section 31. Tell me that you’re a rogue agent. Tell me that Aubin was an ambassador who was just trying to settle a civil war on behalf of the Federation’s diplomatic corps.”

In Zweller’s eyes, Batanides saw sorrow, and perhaps a bit of pity. She knew then that her friend still loved her, and that his loyalties were conflicted.

But she also saw the cold, brutal truth: Section 31 was real, and Aubin Tabor had done its bidding.

He turned away from her, hands clasped behind his back, and stared out at the stars.

Batanides massaged her bruised hand, trying to calm herself, breathing as regularly as she could. A smoldering rage was building inside her. But what could she do about it?

Batanides turned her back on Zweller and started to go. Then she stopped at the door, and spoke to him once more over her shoulder. “I’m going to bring Section 31 down,Corey. For my memory of what Aubin was . . . and for the man youused to be.

“And you have to decide whether or not you’re going to stop me.”

Chapter Fourteen

For a few moments after he returned to the bridge, Picard stood quietly beside one of the aft consoles as he surveyed his crew in action. Various officers were busily manning stations, scarcely pausing to note his presence. Riker sat confidently in the center seat as if he was born to it. Picard smiled to himself, taking quiet reassurance from the seamless performance of his crew. It was preferable by far to shouts of “Captain on the bridge!”

“Report, Number One,” Picard said as he approached Riker.

“Geordi and Data are nearly finished loading their attack plan into the Romulan ship’s computer core,” Riker said as he rose from the chair. “And Lieutenant Hawk is getting her ready for launch.”

Picard nodded. “Good. How soon can we get the mission under way?”

“No more than another thirty minutes. Maybe sooner.”

Picard suddenly noticed how drawn and exhausted Troi looked. Who counsels the counselor?he thought.

“Have the survivors from the Slaytonbeen keeping you busy, Counselor?”

Troi smiled gently. “They haverequired a lot of attention, Captain. But that’s to be expected, considering the ordeal they’ve suffered. Apart from their suspicions about Commander Zweller, their morale is actually quite good. I’m really much more concerned about our other guest.”

Picard understood immediately. “Grelun. Dr. Crusher tells me he’s already made a complete recovery. Has he been causing any problems?”

“Not at all,” Troi said, sounding surprised.

Riker grinned wryly. “I suppose it’s a lot easier to be polite when no one’s shooting at you.”

“I’m certain it’s only a temporary cease‑fire, Will,” Troi said. “First Protector Ruardh isn’t about to simply leave him in our custody, political asylum or no. And she’d probably go apoplectic if she saw the VIP stateroom we issued him.”

Riker shrugged. “Big people need big quarters.”

“Do you think Ruardh would actually be foolish enough to attack the Enterprise?”Picard asked Troi.

“She’s certainly angry enough, Captain. But I don’t think she’ll do anything overt until after the results of the referendum are officially announced.”

“Grand,” Picard said, shaking his head. Still, his determination to safeguard Grelun from his would‑be executioners had not wavered. “So we have to neutralize the singularity andwithdraw to a safe position, all within a couple of hundred minutes.”

“At which time the Romulans will be within their rights to use force to get us out of the Geminus Gulf,” Riker said.

Picard heard a pair of doors swish open behind him. He turned and saw Admiral Batanides enter, to be followed moments later by Zweller. Picard had to fight back his surprise at the sight of the bruise on the commander’s jawline. He and Batanides both wore somber expressions; Zweller looked for all the world like a cadet who had just been put on report for brawling.

Picard turned back toward Riker. “You have the conn, Number One. I’ll be commanding the singularity mission myself.”

Riker frowned. Picard didn’t need Troi to read his first officer’s intentions.

“No arguments this time, Will. Mr. Data and Mr. Hawk will be with me. This operation can be executed best by a small crew, and it’s far too important for me to delegate.”

“With all due respect,” Riker said, “a crew of two seems a bit toosmall.”

Suddenly, the ship lurched hard to starboard, forcing everyone to grab at chairs, railings, and consoles to avoid being flung violently about the bridge. An alarm klaxon shrilled as Zweller toppled hard against a console and Batanides fell onto her knees. The vibrations forced Troi out of her chair, unceremoniously depositing her onto her backside. Riker stumbled, then clutched at a console and struggled back to his feet.

Picard stood beside the command chair, grabbing its arms to steady himself. He experienced a fleeting instant of vertigo. Shaking his head to clear it, he wondered if Ruardh had chosen this moment to launch a surprise attack.

Then, almost as quickly as they had come, the vibrations ceased. A quick glance around the bridge revealed that no one was seriously hurt.

“Number One, what just happened to us?”

Holding tightly to his console, Riker said, “It was another subspace distortion‑wave, Captain. Quite a bit stronger than the previous ones.”

“What the hell are the Romulans up to?” Picard said, not expecting an answer. “Yellow alert. Status report, Lieutenant Daniels.”

Staring at his readouts on the upper bridge, Daniels spoke breathlessly. “I’m getting reports of minor hullbreaches on decks eleven and twelve, Captain. Forcefields are up and damage‑control crews are responding. It could have been a lot worse.”

“What about the Chiarosans?” Picard said. “Can you tell if the planet was affected?”

“Apparently not, sir,” Daniels said. “I’m monitoring their orbital communications tether now. It seems to be working, and I’m not picking up any emergency message traffic. The atmosphere and the planet’s Nightside must have taken the brunt of the shock.”

“I recommend we don’t take the Enterpriseany closer to the singularity than it already is,” Riker said. “We can’t predict when these subspace slippages will occur, and a ship this large is a sitting duck for spatial disruptions this intense.”

“Won’t our shields protect us?” Troi said.

Riker shook his head. “Subspace distortions alter the shape of space itself. The Enterpriseoccupies a pretty fair amount of that space. And she can’t take this sort of punishment the way the planet can.”

Batanides strode toward the turbolift, where Zweller awaited her with a sullen expression. She paused in the open doorway and turned to face the bridge. To Picard, she said, “Commander Zweller I and will be in the shuttlebay.”

Picard nodded to her. “Everything is ready for you,” Picard said simply, then watched as his two oldest friends entered the turbolift, headed to their rendezvous with Chairman Koval. Just before the doors hissed shut, Picard saw the thunderheads looming behind Batanides’s gaze.

He was supremely thankful that he was not Cortin Zweller.

Thanks to the tireless efforts of Data and La Forge, the Romulan scoutship was ready for launch ten minutes ahead of schedule. The bridge crew had detected three more strong subspace distortion wave‑fronts that followed no perceptible pattern. The Romulans were clearly stepping up their efforts. It could be that they were closer to harnessing the subspace singularity’s colossal power than anyone had suspected.

But they might also be losing control of it,Picard thought. No wonder they wanted us to clear out of here yesterday.

The shuttlecraft Herschel,carrying Zweller and Batanides, had already departed when Picard entered the shuttlebay. Now that the damage had already been done to Federation–Chiarosan relations, Picard could only hope that his old comrades‑at‑arms could extract some useful information from the Romulans. And that they would survive the attempt.

Aboard the Romulan ship, Picard found Data seated directly behind the cockpit, where he had become part of an arcane and faintly disturbing tableau. The back of the android’s head, including much of his hair, lay discarded on a nearby seat. The gleaming cortenide and duranium of his skull lay exposed, baring the busy polychromatic flashings of the positronic matrix that comprised his sentience. A flat, paper‑thin cable ran from near the top of his head to an information access port in one of the bulkheads.