Picard looked to Tabor to see if the man was going to respond, but Tabor’s gaze told him to let the matter alone. As if cued by T’Alik’s speech, the rebel Chiarosans melted out of the shadows in the arena, their triple‑jointed forms moving lithely and almost soundlessly. Ruardh and her men did not seem surprised–and the Romulans’ preternatural calm implied that they expected the intrusion–but the Starfleet officers didn’t disguise their own jumpiness quite as well. With the rebels now ringing the outer perimeter of the arena, Picard felt like prey–even more so, given that both the rebels and the bodyguards were all heavily armed.
A few of the rebels parted, allowing a tall, blondhaired Chiarosan to stride forward, a shorter dark‑haired man trailing him. “Ruardh!” the blond snarled. “I halfexpected you to renege on our meeting.”
The matronly Chiarosan leader stared impassively at the light‑haired rebel. “And I had expected you to attack rather than to negotiate, Falhain.”
Aubin Tabor stepped forward, holding his hands out, palms facing upward. “It seems that both sides have come in good faith, despite any preconceptions either had held toward the other. Shall we proceed? There is precious little time remaining–three days, in fact– before the Chiarosan referendum begins.”
Falhain turned his head, his crystalline eyes narrowed and steely. “You must be the Federation ambassador, come to convince us of the rightness of Ruardh’s cause.”
Tabor bowed his head slightly, and again performed the complex series of hand‑gestures that Picard had seen twice earlier. “I am Aubin Tabor, Grand General Falhain. But I am not here to champion Protector Ruardh’s cause, only to find a pathway to peace between your faction and hers.”
The darker rebel by Falhain’s side spoke up then, his voice challenging. “As far as we know, your Federation’s laws forbid you to interfere with indigenous cultures. Why do you meddle with ours?” The man looked briefly at T’Alik and her contingent, who stood to the side, passive.
Tabor smiled benignly, his voice not rising at all. “You speak of the Prime Directive. A wise and wonderful rule, but it is not the onlything that governs us, just as one law is not all that governs you. And because we have been askedto intervene on behalf of the legal government of Chiaros–”
“Legal?”Falhain shouted then, taking a menacing step forward. Picard gave a quick glance over to Riker, who had taken a defensive stance. Riker stood down after Picard’s gaze traveled to the face of Deanna Troi. Her dark eyes were intent on Tabor and the two Chiarosans as she appraised their intentions. The captain was relieved to note that the counselor seemed to find the natives’ emotions more accessible than those of the ambassador. Seeing no immediate alarm on Troi’s face, Picard relaxed a bit.
“Does the Federation know how the ‘legal’ Protector keeps hold of her throne?” Falhain continued. “Are they aware of the thousands of Chiarosans she has ordered slaughtered, the villages she has commanded to be burned, the children she has willed to be eviscerated? The dry riverbeds of Chiaros now run gray with her victims’ lifeblood.”
Ruardh looked appalled. “You exaggerate, Falhain, as always. You were the one who left my service, just as those who follow you made their choice to embrace political dissidence.” She turned her back on Falhain, though her head swiveled to remain looking at him as she walked behind one of the desk‑style platforms nearby. “You paint me as a monster, and yet where is the proof of my alleged atrocities?”
Tabor stepped forward, his voice soothing. “Protector, General, we need to focus on the matters at–”
“You think that this is notthe matter at hand?” Falhain reared back, and Picard realized that his full height was more imposing than he had originally imagined. His brows furrowed, and his sharp teeth glistened as he spat his interruption. “The government that the Federation has allied itself with has been practicing genocide.It is not enough that their raiding parties remove our precious soil and water, leaving the outland villages to choke on dust–they also murder any who have the courage to gainsay their greed, whether armed or not. Our fight is not about politics. We struggle for our very survival!”
The dark‑haired aide to Falhain reached behind his back, his arms swiveling impossibly in his shoulder sockets. As the Chiarosan bodyguards defensively unsheathed their weapons, he removed a device from a satchel he wore on his back and displayed it in front of him. It was less than half a meter tall, with three short legs at its base, and a circular lens at its top.
“You ask for proof, Ruardh?” Falhain swiveled his head toward Picard and his officers. “No doubt your Starfleet allies are equally suspicious of mymotives, having heard only yourarguments to the Federation. Here then are the records of your monstrous deeds. Grelun?”
Responding to Falhain’s command, the dark‑haired warrior touched a recessed space on the device, which he had placed on the floor. A flickering light shot up into the air, before coalescing into a three‑dimensional, fullmotion image of a village. Homes were burning, as their inhabitants tried to put them out. Chiarosan troops, in military garb, were attacking the villagers, killing many of them. Picard winced to see that many of the victims were women and children.
Data leaned toward Picard and Riker, his voice carefully modulated so that it was not heard by the others. “It appears to be a holographic projection, sir.”
“That I can figure out for myself, Data,” Picard whispered. “What I need to know is whether or not these images are genuine.”
“Understood, sir.”
The first image dissolved into another image, this time of the Chiarosan soldiers leading villagers down a road. Their captives–people of all ages–were bound, with halfmeter tethers holding each of them together from neck to neck. That hologram changed to another, this one showing a soldier bayoneting an older man in the back as he stood at the edge of a long trench dug into the soil. Lying in the trench were the bodies of many others, their gray blood oozing from wounds in their backs or sides, or from slit throats. Thick clouds of insects buzzed above the corpses.
Data leaned in again. “While it is possible to forge any scene with holographic technology, I believe these images are taken from real events. The slight focus problems and partial blockage in these images implies that the person or persons recording them were in concealment.”
But a clever forger could fake that as well,Picard thought. Still, it did seem real enough to raise his concern.
Picard stepped forward, tugging at the bottom of his tunic. “General Falhain, I believe we have seen enough for the moment. Despite your conviction that we are siding wholeheartedly with Protector Ruardh, it seems that some doubt has been raised about the manner in which she governs her people. None of these images, nor this information, were everpresented to the Federation Council–”
“There’s a good reason for that, Captain,”Ruardh said, imperiously spitting out the final word as though it left a bad taste in her mouth. “The reason is that these images are partially a fabrication, and partially the work of Falhain himself. As you are aware, Falhain used to lead my royal troops, and many of the regiments are still faithful to him. He commanded his men to commit these crimes, then accused me of giving the orders.”
“You dareimply that this is mywork?” Falhain bellowed. “You are known by the people as the ‘Ashen Ruler,’ for the blood that creeps up the trains of your gowns. I left your service after your political mandates began afflicting the outlanders with furtherhardships– where goods could be sold, how the clans could support each other, where we could live, and how many of us could continue to eat and drink. Your parliamentary decisions filled the prisons with the desperately poor and the infirm. I have opposed you in the streets and in the shadows ever since these injustices began. But I have never, neverkilled an innocent!”