Picard exhaled, shrugging slightly. “Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt. We don’t know if she’s a part of this organization, or one of the people who help hide its existence. Or if she’s only following orders she’s been given by others.”
“No, we don’t know,” Batanides conceded grumpily. She gestured to the door of the brig. “Shall we get this over with then?”
They entered the brig, and Picard told the guard to wait outside, just beyond the outer door, to give them some privacy. The captain accessed the controls from the guard’s console, bringing the security forcefield down. He and Batanides then stepped to the entrance of Zweller’s cell, staying just outside it.
Their old friend looked up, a half‑smile on his face. “Johnny. Marta. Have you finally come to your senses and decided to let me out of here?”
Batanides glared at him, but it was Picard who spoke. “Why the skulduggery, Corey? And why don’t the rules apply to you and your unit?”
“Oh, please, Johnny, let’s not get into more endless debates about following the rules. I’m not that much different from the two of you when it comes to defending the Federation. These philosophical arguments about who’s right or wrong are getting old. You have your methods, and they generally work. But when they don’t . . .” Zweller spread his hands in the air, as if allowing sand to slip between his fingers.
Batanides spoke up, her shoulders straightening. “Commander Zweller, you appear to have friends in high places. Captain Picard has been ordered to release you to another ship’s custody four days from now, no questions asked. And Starfleet Command isn’t exactly champing at the bit to haul you before a court‑martial.”
“Well, that’s certainly good news, Marta,” Zweller said, brightening further. He stood. “Being punished simply for doing the right thing wouldn’t be quite fair, now would it?” He turned toward Picard. “So, am I free to go to my quarters?”
Picard gave Zweller a soulful look, then turned on his heel. “I think given the circumstances . . . I’d feel much safer if you stayed hereuntil your transfer to the Tian An Men.”
The captain withdrew to the security console, leaving Batanides alone with Zweller. They stood staring at each other. Batanides looked into the eyes of her friend, but couldn’t find the man he used to be anywhere in them. All she saw was darkness.
He moved his hand as if to touch her on the shoulder. The forcefield crackled into place–she wondered if Jean‑Luc had chosen that precise moment for effect– and Zweller withdrew before he could touch it. “Marta, I’m sorry that–”
“You may be free to go in a few days, Corey,” she said, interrupting, “but God help you if our paths evercross again after that. Not even Section 31 is invulnerable.”
She turned and walked away. Corey’s organization had taken her fiancИ from her, and then one of her oldest friends.
It had much to answer for.
Chapter Nineteen
Jean‑Luc Picard was not one who brooded often–if he did, he wouldn’t admit it to others–but today, his mood was as black as obsidian. After Hawk’s confessional visit, Admiral Rossa’s orders, and his brief confrontation with Zweller, sleep had been coming only fitfully. The stress and fatigue of the last several days–to say nothing of his brush with death on the subspace singularity mission–had taken their toll.
He had spent the morning organizing the files to be sent over to the Tian An Menalong with Zweller, and classifying all the other relevant documents stored within the Enterprise’s computer banks. Although he could have assigned the task to Data and gotten it done more efficiently, he preferred to do it himself, though every deletion, transfer, or security classification chipped away at whatever good humor remained within him.
If only there had been some way to read the encrypted information on that Romulan data chip,Picard thought bitterly. At least then, Marta and I would have been able to warn some of Section 31’s next targets. Perhaps even set some traps.
Riker had contacted him a short while ago, telling him that the Tian An Menwas approaching. The time of the scheduled rendezvous was almost upon them.
Just minutes from now, Corey Zweller will be free.He cursed under his breath.
The ready‑room door chimed quietly, then slid open. Vice‑Admiral Batanides hesitated for a moment before stepping in. “Good morning, Jean‑Luc,” she said, moving over toward the replicator.
“Either you have some news of which I’m not yet aware, or you mean that rhetorically,” he said, forcing a smile.
She ordered almond amaretto coffee with cream, and then turned toward him as a cup sparkled into existence in the replicator. “No. No good news. And the Tian An Menis almost within transporter range.”
Picard regarded her for a moment, his hand to his chin. “Marta, I need to speak with you off the record. Trulyoff the record.”
“Sure, Johnny,” she said. She took a seat before the desk, her coffee cup in hand.
He sighed heavily. “I’ve been running this week’s events over and over in my mind. I’ve been reading and rereading the logs. And I’m still tremendously uncomfortable with Admiral Rossa’s orders.” He looked her directly in the eyes. “There are a lot of unpleasant consequences associated with this mission that I can accept. I can accept that a sovereign people have elected to reject Federation membership. I can accept that the Romulans have gained three sectors of relatively worthless territory at our expense. I can even accept the fact that we never learned whether Falhain’s assassination was the work of Section 31, the Romulans, Ruardh, or even Grelun himself.
“But I cannotaccept the prospect of Corey Zweller leaving this ship a free man after what he’s done.”
She looked supremely concerned. “What are you telling me, Johnny?”
“I have no intentionof simply turning Zweller over to the Tian An Men.It’s clear that Section 31 has contrived a way to sweep his misdeeds under the rug, as well as any proof of the bureau’s existence that we might furnish.”
Batanides sipped her coffee, but said nothing, nor gave any hint of her feelings. Picard continued. “I’m planning on proceeding to Earth with Zweller aboard, where I will appeal directly to the Federation Council. Something must be done about Section 31.”
She appeared to mull his words over for a moment, then set her cup down on Picard’s desk. “That would be a huge mistake, Johnny. We’re not talking about taking on a trio of drunken Nausicaans here, after all.”
And we know how wellthat little confrontation went,Picard thought. Perhaps that was part of her point.
She resumed: “The stakes are too high, and I won’t have you jeopardizing your career. Heaven knows how many officers have had their lives ruined by this agency– and how many more mightbe, given this supposed ‘ Romulan spy list’–but I won’t allow youto be among them.”
“Marta, this travesty cannotgo unchallenged.”
“And it won’t. I warned Zweller last night that Section 31 isn’t invulnerable.” She recovered her cup, took a drink, then continued. “Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea for me to warn him, but I think it’s safe to assume that he was already expecting one of us to go after him anyway.”
Setting her cup down, she reached forward and put her hand atop Picard’s, on his desk. “I’mthe one who should go after him, Johnny. I’ll use whatever resources are available to me through my rank and position in Starfleet Intelligence. Resources that not even the captain of Starfleet’s flagship has. And if it’s within my power, Commander Roget and his crew–and everyone who died aboard the Slayton–will see Corey and his superiors brought to justice.”