Star Trek - TNG - Section 31 - Rogue

by Andy Mangels

  "We haven't gotten away yet. Lieutenant," Picard said, still working busily alongside the admiral to get the ship moving.

  Batanides nodded in agreement with the captain.

  "They can still chase us. Or even shoot us down, Grelun or no Grelun."

  Seconds later, they were under way. The scout ship ascended quickly into the chill darkness of Nightside.

  Hawk continued observing and memorizing while the admiral coached Picard on the instrument panel.

  "That blue rectangular touch pad beside your right hand should control the cloaking device. Activate it."

  Picard complied, smiling ironically.

  "I suppose we're in violation of the Treaty ofAlgeron now. Admiral."

  She chuckled gently.

  "I don't think the Romulan diplomatic corps will be in any position to complain about that, under the circumstances." Hawk was well aware that under the current Federation-Romulan treaties concerning Chiaros IV, neither side were permitted to conceal either personnel or equipment anywhere on the planet.

  He wondered what other secrets the Romulans guarded--and if Zweller had any inkling of what those secrets might be.

  The admiral frowned as she stared at a readout.

  "The cloak's not working."

  Picard activated the co nun system.

  "Picard to engine room."

  "Heam here. Captain," responded the chief engineer of the late starship Slayton.

  "The cloaking device is not functioning, Mr. Heam.

  We need to engage it immediately."

  "Sorry, Captain, but Commander Roget and I have our hands full right now just keeping the engines operational.

  The Romulan techs had everything in pieces down here."

  Hawk suddenly became aware of Zweller's presence behind him.

  "I know a thing or two about cloaking devices, Marta," the older man said.

  "Then get below and get the damned thing working before they start chasing us."

  Finally seeing an opportunity to speak with Zweller in relative privacy. Hawk turned toward him.

  "Need a hand, Commander?"

  Zweller raised a curious eyebrow.

  "I did some ... extracurricular study on Romulan cloaking technology back at the Academy," Hawk offered.

  He looked toward Picard for permission.

  "We've no shortage of qualified pilots up here. Lieutenant," the captain said from the front of the cockpit. Picard then turned his chair toward Zweller and regarded him coolly.

  "Commander?"

  Zweller looked significantly at Picard and Batanides for a long moment. Hawk knew that something important was passing between these three people, though he wasn't sure exactly what it was. But it seemed clear they all shared some history together.

  Zweller turned away from Picard and Batanides, and regarded Hawk with a shrug.

  "Why not?" he said, then began making his way aft ward

  Hawk followed Zweller into the main crew compartment, past Troi and several members of the Slayton's crew. They stepped over Grelun's unconscious form, which was splayed across the floor while Dr. Gomp and Counselor Troi watched over him; none of the seats aboard the vessel were designed to accommodate anyone so large. Nearby, Crusher tended to what appeared to be a superficial wound on Riker's scalp, and a nasty-looking burn on his shoulder. Then Hawk followed Zweller down a companionway ladder and into a cramped, equipment filled lower compartment that reminded him of one of the horizontal Jefferies tubes aboard the Enterprise. Hawk could hear Roget and Heam discussing their work on the engine core from around a corner junction.

  Zweller removed an access panel just above the deck grid work revealing the cloaking device's winking, glowing interior. Hawk found a tool kit in an adjacent drawer and handed it to Zweller, who lay supine in order to

  reach the leads running from the device to the ship's main EPS lines.

  After a few passes of an isodyne coupler, Zweller signaled to the cockpit that the cloak was operational. Then he rose, handed the tool kit to Hawk, and headed back toward the companionway ladder.

  Hawk took a deep breath. still may never have a better chance than right now. He put a firm hand on Zweller's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

  "I need to speak to you," Hawk said softly, not wanting to be overheard by Roget or Heam.

  "About Section 31."

  Zweller turned slowly around and regarded Hawk with a sober expression.

  "I'm afraid I don't have any idea what you're talking about. Lieutenant," he said in an admonishing tone, his gaze dilithium-hard.

  Hawk stood his ground and stared right back at Zweller.

  "Ambassador Tabor told me about Thirty-One.

  He told me you're working for them, too. And he tried to convince me that losing Chiaros IV and the Geminus Gulf would be better for the Federation than winning them. He even tried to recruit me to help him accomplish that goal."

  Zweller digested this in silence. He appeared to be a difficult man to catch by surprise. But that must be part and parcel of the spy game. Hawk thought.

  Zweller spoke quietly after a long, introspective pause.

  "I suppose Tabor died before he could answer all of your... fundamental questions."

  Hawk nodded.

  "And now that we know the Romulans are mixed up with the Army of Light, I have even more questions."

  "So it appears you have a choice to make. Lieutenant.

  The same choice I had to make when I was around your age."

  Hawk nodded slowly.

  "I either have to help you or stop you."

  Zweller smiled.

  "You've got a third option, kid. You can back off. Pretend you don't know anything about Section 31. Believe me, that would be your safest option."

  Hawk considered that for a moment, then dismissed it out of hand. If he'd been of a mind to play it safe, then he never would have gone against his father's wishes and entered Starfleet Academy. And he'd be on a safe, dull tenure-track in the antiquities department at some Martian university right now instead of piloting the Federation's flagship out at the boundaries of human experience.

  "Ignoring what Tabor tried to do here would be the same as helping you, wouldn't it?" Hawk said.

  "No, I can't just pretend I'm not involved. Commander. I am involved. And I need to know what you and Tabor were really trying to do here, and why."

  Zweller folded his arms across his chest and paused once again, evidently weighing options of his own. Finally, he said, "Let's strike a deal, then, son: I'll tell you whatever I think you need to know. But only after we get safely away from this hellhole.

  "And assuming, of course, that both of us live that long."

  And with that, Zweller crossed to the ladder and climbed out of sight, leaving Hawk alone, the coppery taste of fear in his mouth.

  Chapter Nine

  Koval strode into the control center of the warbird Thrai Kaleh, his thoughts dark. Speculations about the Empire's future had weighed heavily upon his mind of late. Despite the best efforts of the Tal Shiar's vice-chairman. Senator Vreenak, to negotiate a nonaggression pact with the sprawling Dominion, Koval found it difficult to believe mat those shape-shifting Gamma Quadrant devils--and their unctuous Vorta middlemen--would honor any such agreement for long. For months now, a sense of urgency had been steadily growing within the Tal Shiar leader's gut, an almost desperate need to prove that the best days of the Praetor's venerable congeries of worlds had not already passed.

  Of course, there were things to be thankful for, to be sure. Nine years previously, Tarod IX, a world just on the Federation's side of the stelai ler'lloann--the Outmarches, which the Federation called the Romulan Neutral Zone--had suffered a devastating attack by the rapacious Borg collective. Koval often wondered what

  would have happened had the conquest-driven cyborgs continued across the Neutral Zone toward the core of the Empire. Could Romulus itself have survived such an onslaught?

  Would he have been forced
to seek a long-term alliance with the Federation, whose continual, omnidirectional expansion many in the Empire regarded as a threat in and of itself?

  If the Dominion behaves as treacherously as seems likely, Koval thought glumly, then I may yet be forced to take just such an action.

  Fortunately, some of the reassurance Koval sought was now displayed upon the Thrai Kaleh's central viewscreen.

  He looked upon a vast assemblage of spaceborne constructs, a colossal loop of machinery, energy-collectors, and habitat modules that dwarfed even the largest warbirds of the Praetor's armadas. And in the ring's center lay a concentration of unimaginably potent forces, a discovery that promised to revivify the Empire--and perhaps, one day, even to extend its reach to every quadrant of the galaxy.

  Taking a seat in the command chair, Koval silently watched the coruscating energies in the screen's center for the better part of an hour, while junior officers busied themselves monitoring the banks of equipment. It was their responsibility to assist the energy station's technical crews in locating and dampening out all local subspace instabilities before irreparable harm could befall either the energy-extraction equipment or the power source's delicately balanced containment apparatus.

  Koval was unpleasantly aware that the crew had failed to mask all evidence of the phenomenon's presence; the recent unwelcome intrusion of the first Federation starship into the cloaked zone had amply demonstrated those failures. In the aftermath, an overzealous warbird captain had overstepped his authority by destroying that

  Federation vessel, forcing Koval to have him summarily executed. Now that the incident had attracted the attention of the Federation's flagship, Koval would countenance no further errors or unforeseen complications.

  A hatchway opened and a distraught young decurion entered the control center, practically at a run.

  "Chairman Koval," he said breathlessly.

  "We've just received a stealth signal from the Chiarosan orbital comm tether.

  There has been an ... incident on the planet."

  Koval sighed. Why were so many junior officers averse to speaking plainly these days?

  "Specificity and brevity are among the cardinal virtues, Takal. Let me have both."

  The younger man paused for a moment, composing his thoughts before continuing.

  "Somehow, the Starfleet detainees have escaped from the base on Chiaros IV.

  They've taken one of our small scout vessels off-planet."

  Koval suppressed any outward show of surprise or anger, but he felt them both nonetheless. He quickly reassured himself: Even though the Federation now surely knows of the covert Romulan presence on Chiaros IV, they still have virtually no chance of correctly assessing the Empire's larger agenda.

  By the time they do that, it will be far, far too late.

  "What is the status of our people there?" Koval said evenly.

  "The Starfleet prisoners evidently overpowered three of our technicians. Chairman, and forced them off the scout ship before using it to make their escape. The technicians were fortunate not to have been taken hostage."

  Koval shook his head.

  "Not at all. There probably wasn't enough room on the scout ship to take anyone else aboard. What is the status of the rest of our personnel on the base?"

  "There were no casualties. Chairman."

  "Fortunate. Even with a memory scanner, I cannot debrief the dead. The rebel base is compromised, Decurion.

  Evacuate it at once. Instruct all personnel to withdraw to the secondary compound."

  "Yes, Chairman."

  "As soon as the evacuation is complete, you will purge (he facility."

  "It will be done, sir." The decurion saluted, touching his clenched fist to his chest. He turned swiftly and was gone.

  Koval smiled to himself. Any scan of the base's remains would reveal the blast signatures of Starfleet quantum torpedoes--armaments that the Tal Shiar had acquired through third parties and then hidden beneath the Army of Light complex during its construction long ago.

  Thus, the Chiarosan electorate would have even further proof of Federation perfidy before voting on the question of Federation membership, just two short days from now.

  By that time, Koval expected to have concluded his business with Commander Zweller as well. Zweller had aided the Chiarosan rebels to sway the election in favor of Romulus, just as he had promised to do. And despite Zweller's subsequent falling out with Grelun, a deal was still a deal.

  Spies had to be especially circumspect about honoring their under-the-table agreements. Or at least they had to appear to be. To do any less was simply bad business, and could invite unpredictable responses from one's adversaries.

  Now that Zweller had escaped from the rebels, Koval fully expected to give the commander his just due: a list of Romulan agents working on Federation worlds. A list of probably-compromised intelligence officers who would shortly find themselves purged, their families vanished, their lands and properties confiscated. Section 31 would almost certainly execute the spy-purge themselves, thereby saving Koval and his bureau a great deal

  of trouble and expense. Quietly lauding himself for his own cleverness, Koval allowed his lips to torque into an--almost--perceptible smile.

  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 not to tell her.

  The sub centurion 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 inffcontact 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 Kaleh within 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 still slumbering Grelun and the surviving Slayton crewmembers--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 what to 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 confiscate
d 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 under191

  stood 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.