“I didn’t have any proof,” Hawk admitted quietly. “Except that nothing they said seemed wrong, exactly. They had a good answer for everything.”
“Most traitors do. But rules exist for a reason, Lieutenant, as do chains of command. That’s why–”
“At the risk of getting myself into further trouble, sir,” Hawk said, interrupting, “one of the things they pointed out to me repeatedly was how often you and Commander Riker have both broken the rules in pursuit of the greater good.” He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
Picard raised an eyebrow and regarded the lieutenant in silence. He considered lecturing Hawk about the unique decision‑making skills of senior officers, or discoursing on the sorts of extenuating circumstances that might motivate one to . . . benda regulation now and then, when particularly hazardous situations demanded it. But he couldn’t.
Because he realized that the lieutenant was absolutely right.
Ido sometimes take risks or bend the rules, and damn the admirals.Surely, he alwayshad good reasons to make those decisions. But one man’s sound justification was another’s bad excuse.
“Sir?” Hawk stood, looking directly into Picard’s eyes. “For what it’s worth, I didcome forward, even if not right away. I suppose I hesitated because Ambassador Tabor had me nearly convinced that the ends can justify a Starfleet officer’s means . . . sometimes.But after talking things over with Commander Zweller, it seemed to me that for Section 31, the ends alwaysjustify the means. And I decided then that certain lines should never be crossed.”
Picard sighed, smiled slightly, and then clapped one hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “That’s an important lesson to learn, Lieutenant. And I appreciate your honesty about this matter . . . and your forthrightness about the example I set for you and the rest of the crew.”
“What happens now?” Hawk asked, looking apprehensive.
“To Zweller and Section 31? That remains to be seen. You may have blown the lid off of a conspiracy that will rock Starfleet to its core.”
Picard noticed then that Hawk’s chin was trembling slightly. “You’re concerned about how your ownconduct in this matter will look in your service record. Is that it, Lieutenant?”
Hawk nodded, his jaw still shaking. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly.
“I imagine it will go something like this,” Picard said, his tone soothing. “A special commendation will be placed in your file, noting your meritorious actions during the Chiarosan crisis. And you’ll fulfill your duties on the bridge at your next work shift, and the one after that.”
Hawk relaxed visibly, but Picard wasn’t finished. “At some point, you’ll likely have to testify about Zweller’s actions before a Starfleet Command tribunal. But I don’t expect this to affect your career negatively in any way.”
He held his hand out toward the young man. “You’ve exhibited honesty and bravery throughout this mission, Sean. You made the right choices. Allof them. Continue to make them.”
Relief showed on Hawk’s face. “Thank you, Captain.” They shook hands firmly, then disengaged.
On the table, Picard’s combadge chirped, and Data’s voice filtered out of it. The captain was relieved that his android friend had recovered so completely from the aftereffects of the raid on the subspace singularity, and whatever injuries the Romulan security AI had inflicted upon him.
“Captain,” Data said, “there is a Priority One message for you from Starfleet Command.”
“I’ll take it here, Mr. Data.” He turned to Hawk with a slight smile. “We’ll talk more about this later.”
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said, then strode swiftly to the door.
Picard had donned his jacket before sitting behind his desk. He touched a small contact and its small screen lit up. On it was Admiral Connaught Rossa, whom he hadn’t heard from in years.
“Admiral Rossa. It’s good to see you, sir. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Rossa clearly wasn’t in the mood for the usual pleasantries. “It’s my understanding that you have detained a Commander Cortin Zweller for various actions concerning this sordid liaison between the Chiarosan rebels and the Romulans.”
“Yes, sir. We are transporting him to Starbase 424, where he will be bound over for trial.”
“That won’t be necessary, Captain. Instead, you will rendezvous in four days with the U.S.S. Tian An Men,just as soon as the Enterpriseis clear of Geminus Gulf space. The exact coordinates for this meeting will be transmitted to you shortly. You will transport Commander Zweller and allhis personal effects–including computer files–to the Tian An Menat that point.”
Picard was jarred. After an almost imperceptible pause, he said, “May I assume that Vice‑Admiral Batanides from Starfleet Intelligence will accompany the commander?”
“No. But after the rendezvous, you may continue on your heading for Starbase 424. Admiral Batanides and the remaining Slaytonsurvivors will be ferried from there to their next destinations.”
“Admiral, I must tell you that there are some very . . . unusual aspects to the charges against Commander Zweller.” Picard shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“As I said, Captain, you will transfer all files about this to the Tian An Men.This includes alllog material. The matter will be classifieduntil such time as we contact you again.”
“I will gladly make myself and my officers available to testify at the court‑martial proceedings and–”
Rossa seemed annoyed. “Captain, perhaps I’m not making myself clear enough. Wewill contact you when we wishto hear from you. It is doubtful that charges will be brought against the commander–”
This time it was Picard’s turn to interrupt her. “What? He allied himself with anti‑Federation forces, aided in the abduction and incarceration of fellow Starfleet officers, and conspired with the Romulans! And I’m certain that’s only the tip of the iceberg!”
The admiral’s voice was sharp. “I’m sure we’ll be able to decide for ourselves the truth about Commander Zweller’s actions. Certainly, he was instrumental in revealing the atrocious war crimes being committed by a potential ally to the Federation, the Chiarosan government.”
“Admiral, there’s a great deal more going on here than you think.”
“Captain, I’ll allow for some small amount of insubordination from you, given the lateness of the hour. But I trust I needn’t remind you of Starfleet’s chain of command.” She straightened in her chair, extending one hand toward the panel on the desk in front of her. “You have your orders. They are not open to discussion.”
The image of Rossa vanished, replaced by the seal of the Federation. Picard gritted his teeth, fuming.
He slammed his hand down onto the comm panel. “Picard to Batanides.”
“Go ahead.”
“Marta . . . We need to talk.”
* * *
Standing beside Picard in the passageway outside the brig, Batanides could scarcely believe what she was hearing. But the way things had gone on this mission, nothing was a complete surprise to her anymore.
“I’ve got a bit more pull with the brass hats than most starship captains do, Johnny,” she said, her voice lowered. “Rossa might outrank me, but I promise you–I won’t let this rest.”
“I didn’t expect that you would, Marta. But at the moment, myhands are officially tied.”
“I wouldn’t have expected this of Rossa. She’s been in Starfleet a long time.” Batanides had worked under the admiral on several earlier occasions.