She paused for a moment, giving his hand a slight squeeze. “Believe me, we both want the same thing, but you’retoo high‑profile. And if you go off half‑cocked, you might throw away any chance we have of ever stopping Section 31. You could drive them even further underground.”
Now it was her turn to look him squarely in the eyes, her gaze studying him. “You have to do what you’ve never been inclined to do: nothing.And, you’re going have to trust me to handle things . . . quietly.”
Picard looked down at her hand atop his, feeling their warmth. “I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he said quietly.
“What more could they do to me, Johnny?” She gave him a sad smile. “All I’ve got left to lose is my friendship with you. So I ask you: Pleasejust walk away from this. Leave it to me.”
Though Picard’s emotions roiled like Chiaros IV’s stormy atmosphere, he could not refute her logic. There simply weren’t any good alternatives to her plan. “All right, Marta. I’ll keep my mouth shut. And I’ll stay out of your way while you gather enough evidence to expose the bureau.”
Batanides grinned warmly. “I hope you won’t stay toofar out of my way, Johnny. I’d hate it if it took another life‑and‑death crisis to bring us back together.”
The door chimed again. Batanides quickly removed her hand from Picard’s, and sat back in her chair. “Come,” Picard said, and Commander Riker stepped into the room a moment later.
“Captain, the Tian An Menis standing by. They’re requesting that we beam Zweller over immediately, along with all information pertaining to our Geminus Gulf mission.”
Picard looked up at Riker wearily, and handed him a padd. “Number One, I’d like you to go to the brig and supervise the commander’s release. I . . . It’s probably best that I don’t see him again for a good long while.”
“I understand, sir.”
Looking into his trusted first officer’s eyes, Picard knew that he didunderstand.
Sean Hawk and Ranul Keru rounded a corner in the corridor, and came face‑to‑face with a security contingent led by Commander Riker. Two burly security officers accompanied him, flanking Cortin Zweller, who was dressed in a fresh Starfleet uniform.
“Hello, sir,” Hawk said to Riker, nervous.
“Lieutenant,” Riker said. “Congratulations again on your derring‑do in the Geminus Gulf. I’m sure Ranul is at least as happy as we are that you’re back among us.”
Keru grinned. “It wouldn’t be much of an anniversary celebration without him.”
Hawk smiled as well. To Riker, he said, “Thank you, sir.”
“See you on the bridge, Lieutenant,” Riker said, leading his party on in the direction of the transporter room.
As Zweller moved past Hawk, he stopped and grabbed the young man’s arm lightly. Riker and the security officers stopped as well. “It looks as though you’ve made your choice,” Zweller said, his voice low.
“It was the onlychoice I could make,” Hawk replied, looking Zweller defiantly in the eyes.
Without another word, Zweller turned and followed Riker. Hawk watched him go, without a trace of regret.
Hawk looked over at Ranul, who smiled and playfully ruffled his hair as they continued down the corridor toward holodeck three. Swashbuckling combat against Bluebeard and his pirates–which he and Keru had postponed for several days now–awaited them. It would be a tame diversion compared to the events of the past week. They might even get to enjoy some time together on a sandy beach after defeating the enemy’s galleon full of brigands.
We have all the time in the world together now,Hawk thought as the holodeck door beckoned.
Chapter Twenty
Romulus, Stardate 50454.1
Senator Pardek looked out from the cliffside veranda, his dark, deep‑set eyes surveying the sun‑dappled surface of the Apnex Sea, which lapped gently at the jagged rocks far, far below. A small flock of mogaiwheeled lazily overhead in a muted gray sky. Beneath them, blood‑green waters stretched placidly to the horizon, and lapped at a shoreline teeming with multicolored succulents. Pardek thought, as he often did when he came here, that this must surely be the most beautiful vista on all of Romulus, the jewel in the Romulan Star Empire’s crown.
It was also possibly the safest place he could be. There were no air‑ or watercraft anywhere to be seen, thanks to the warning messages broadcast by his automated security system. But Pardek also counted on the protection of his own flesh‑and‑blood security staff, an experienced cadre of loyal Romulan soldiers who were as accomplished in the art of repulsing unwanted visitors as they were at keeping out of sight when not needed. The villa was the one place to which he could retreat from the often vexing intrigues of the Senate and the incessant infighting of the Continuing Committee. Here, he could almost convince himself that the vast length and breadth of the Empire contained nothing that might serve to trouble him, from his principal home in the Krocton Segment to the most remote Neutral Zone outpost; that young upstarts in the Senate weren’t constantly gunning for his position; that the Vulcan radical Spock wasn’t still at large somewhere in the Empire, spreading the subversive doctrine of Romulan–Vulcan unification to ever‑increasing numbers of willfully gullible souls.
And that headaches such as the Tal Shiar’s fiasco in the Geminus Gulf were merely bad dreams from which he would awaken.
Pardek had already decided that he would remain at the villa until tomorrow morning. Then, the Continuing Committee would begin its probe into the fitness of Chairman Koval to continue leading the Tal Shiar. Only then, once Pardek was forced to return to the Senate chambers to take gavel in hand before the board of inquiry, would he pause to worry about the possible consequences of Koval’s inquest.
At least, that was the plan.
Returning to the central courtyard, Pardek tried to banish all thought of Koval and the Tal Shiar by concentrating on his garden. Here were the finicky Terran roses he so valued for their sweet scent, there the fast‑growing crystalline life‑forms, which the Tzenkethi called nirikeh;their crystals twinkled, silver and emerald and violet in the subdued sunlight, seeming to grow before his eyes. He continued walking, passing under the fronds of the rippleberry tree the Dominion Vorta Weyoun had given him last month as part of a nonaggression‑pact overture. Thatoffer was going to require some serious thought and debate, Pardek told himself; he trusted the Vorta even less than he did the Tal Shiar.
Beyond the rippleberry tree lay the patch of ground he reserved his prized Edosian orchids. The pink‑edged, yellow flowers, which now stood on knee‑high stalks, required specially prepared soils and a great deal of attention. This particular variety had come into his possession many years ago, introduced to him by an unusually well‑mannered and talkative Cardassian groundskeeper he had met at the Cardassian Embassy, a few weeks prior to Proconsul Merrok’s tragic demise. The orchids had provided Pardek with an agreeable diversion from that unpleasant business–Merrok had been a personal friend, despite their many political differences–and the orchids’ delicate blooms had delighted him ever since, despite the constant labor they demanded.
Perhaps,Pardek thought, kneeling beside the orchids to inspect them more closely, they serve as a metaphor for politics.
He rose and walked into the house’s sunlit central atrium, where he watched as his daughter, Talkath, practiced her martial arts exercises. So intent was the nineyearold on the slow, intricately flowing motions of her hands, elbows, and legs, that she did not seem to notice his presence. He smiled silently as he watched her executing her precisely timed movements, delivering slowmotion kicks and blows in a lethal yet exquisitely lovely ballet.