“Corey, I understand that without the rule of law, the universe is even more dangerous than any adversary even the most paranoid Section 31 agent could ever imagine.”
She fell silent then, staring hard at him for what seemed like an eternity. Then he saw the anger in her eyes slowly draining away, to be replaced by something else entirely. Was it pity?
The thought rankled him. He glanced away from her under the pretext of monitoring the helm panel. A glance at the chronometer reminded him that he might as well call the Enterprise–and finally learn whatever fate had befallen Johnny’s captured Romulan scoutship.
Batanides evidently had just had the same thought. “Do you think Jean‑Luc made it?”
Zweller wanted to say something hopeful, though he truly didn’t feel that way. It wasn’t that he lacked faith in Picard’s abilities; it was simply that he knew very well that when Koval wanted someone dead, that was the way that person usually ended up.
“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” he said, then touched a control, opening a channel to the Enterprise.
He was surprised and pleased to see Picard’s face appear on the viewscreen. Zweller noted that his old classmate looked haggard and tired. He was dressed in a robe and appeared to be speaking to them from his quarters.
“You’ve looked better, Johnny,” Batanides said, grinning slightly.
Picard smiled weakly in response. “A lingering aftereffect of winning a brawl against a subspace singularity. It’ll pass. How did yourmission go?”
Zweller held up the data chip, displaying it triumphantly. “The only downside, in case you haven’t heard already, is that all Federation personnel are now considered personae non grataanywhere in the Geminus Gulf.”
Picard hesitated for a moment before answering. “I’m already well aware of that,” he said finally. “But I don’t think the Romulans have any cause for celebration, either. Without the subspace singularity, they no longer have any rationale for being here.”
As Picard signed off and the craft approached the aft shuttlebay, Zweller smiled. Everything was going to work out well after all–despite the fact that the singularity’s destruction could be as big a loss to the Federation as it was to the Romulans. But with the singularity gone, the Romulans would probably abandon the Geminus Gulf of their own accord soon enough, and Section 31 would be waiting patiently. By that time, the Chiarosan people would surely see the Romulans for the devious manipulators they were, and would welcome the Federation with open, triple‑jointed arms. A full investigation of Ruardh’s pogroms would almost certainly result in her ouster, if that result wasn’t imminent already. Peace might come to Chiaros IV at last.
Zweller leaned back in the copilot’s seat, his fingers laced behind his head. Yes, everything was working out very well indeed.
Still, he avoided looking at Batanides for the rest of the flight.
As Batanides and Zweller stepped from the Herschelonto the Enterprise’s main shuttlebay, the admiral wasn’t surprised to see Dr. Crusher and Captain Picard–the latter now dressed in a light‑duty uniform–already waiting there to greet them. What the admiral didfind surprising was the pair of brawny security guards who stepped forward, bracketing Zweller and taking him into custody.
“Thanks for saving me the trouble,” Batanides said to Picard as she confiscated the data chip. Zweller seemed remarkably unconcerned about what was happening.
“If you’re thinking of using the information on that chip against us, you might as well not bother,” Zweller said as one of the guards manacled his wrists and the other scanned him for weapons, finding none. “I’m the only one aboard this ship who knows the encryption key.”
Damn!she thought, gripping the data chip tightly. She knew that the xenocryptography specialists in Starfleet Intelligence could no doubt crack Corey’s encryption key, given enough time. But by then, the data chip’s contents would most likely be useless.
“I’m sorry I’m forced to do this, Corey,” Picard said in staid tones. “But you have deliberately interfered with the internal affairs of a sovereign government. Your actions demand a trial before a general court martial, which you will face after we remand you into the custody of the nearest starbase.”
“You’re assuming, Johnny,” Zweller said, his expression enigmatic, “that we won’t have any unscheduled detours between here and there.”
Batanides was once again struck by Zweller’s unaccountable calm. What was he up to?
As the guards escorted Zweller away, Batanides listened to the sound of their bootheels reverberating across the cavernous shuttlebay. A deep chill slowly ascended the length of her spine as she contemplated Corey’s words, and wondered just how long his rogue spy bureau’s reach really was.
In the meantime, Picard and Dr. Crusher had walked a few paces away, apparently conferring privately about something urgent. The doctor seemed to be greatly concerned about the captain’s health, and indeed, he appeared slightly unsteady on his feet. After a quick exchange of tense whispers, Crusher strode toward the exit and a careworn Picard returned to the admiral’s side, a resolute expression on his face. Batanides couldn’t help but notice that neither of them appeared satisfied with the outcome of their deliberations. She wondered why it was that ships’ doctors always treated their captains as though they were delicate Barkonian glass sculptures.
Maybe it’s because captains always seem to think they’re made of neutronium.
Her rumination was interrupted by the sound of Will Riker’s voice, which issued from Picard’s combadge. “Riker to Picard.”
“Go ahead, Number One,” the captain said.
“Three small ships on approach from Chiaros IV, and Ruardh’s flagship is among them.”
“Ruardh was evidently quite serious when she demanded that we hand over Grelun,” Picard said as he began walking quickly toward the corridor. Batanides fell into step beside him.
“It certainly looks that way, sir,” Riker said. “They should be in weapons range in just under six minutes.”
“We’re on our way. Picard out.”
After they entered a turbolift, Batanides realized that her old friend was staring inquisitively at her.
“Something on your mind, Johnny?”
“Probably the same thing that’s on yours,” he said, placing one hand against a wall to steady himself. “Given the distinct possibility that Ruardh may attack us, do you believe that I should surrender Grelun to her?”
She genuinely wasn’t certain about that anymore. The Chiarosan people had been so thoroughly misled already by the machinations of both the Tal Shiar and Section 31 that almost any course of action now seemed hopelessly muddled. Despite the antipathy she had harbored toward the rebels in the immediate aftermath of the battle in HagratИ, she was no longer prepared to hold them entirely responsible for Aubin Tabor’s death. It was now obvious to her that Chiaros IV’s treacherous political landscape was no longer a clear‑cut matter of interstellar law and Starfleet regulations.
“Cooperating with a legitimate, sovereign government is one thing,” Batanides said. “But kowtowing to a Romulan puppet regime is quite another.”
Picard nodded. “I agree completely.”
“One other thing still concerns me, though,” she said, leaning against her side of the turbolift as the illuminated deck‑markers sped past.
“What’s that?”
“I wonder just how far Ruardh is willing to go in order to capture Grelun.”
“Let’s hope we won’t have to find out,” Picard said gravely. “Because a war with Ruardh . . .” Though he left his words hanging in the air, his meaning was abundantly clear.
A war with Ruardh could escalate very quickly into a war with the Romulans,she thought, chilled to the marrow by the very notion.