“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.