The Romulan interposed himself into the conversation. "Ruardh undoubtedly would have him executed. However, Ruardh no longer enjoys the autonomy she once did."

Picard wasn't the least bit sorry to hear that. He smiled with grim amusement.

Curince addressed Grelun directly. "Where would you go if you could go anywhere you willed, Grelun? What would you do?"

Grelun's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I would go back among my people," he said after a deliberate pause. "I would gather the Army of Light about me and strike like an avenging hammer at those who murder our children."

"In other words," the Romulan said, "you would bring order to what is now in terrible disarray. You ought to know that the Romulan Empire abhors disorder."

"I don't understand this," Riker said, frowning. "Are you saying that you want Grelun to go back to commanding a guerrilla army?"

"If a large asteroid were headed for your homeworld," the Romulan said, "would you want to splinter it into millions of small, uncontrollable missiles? Or would you instead seek to keep the object in one piece and modify its trajectory?"

Picard glanced inquisitively at Troi, who was standing on the bridge's port side. "He's telling the truth," she said. "The Romulans see the rebel movement as becoming far more dangerous in the absence of coherent leadership."

Almost inaudibly, Riker quoted, "'Keep your friends close. But keep your enemies closer.'"

"Grelun," Curince said, her manner softer now. "Will you come with us?"

"I believe that it was the Romulans who destroyed the Army of Light's principal stronghold," Grelun growled. "They have given me little cause to trust them."

The Romulan spread his hands, no hint of confirmation or denial in his voice. "Whoever destroyed your base, did they not give your soldiers sufficient warning beforehand for a general evacuation? Come now, Grelun. You are well aware that trust has nothing whatsoever to do with any of this. You want to return to Chiaros IV. You can do so either as Ruardh's condemned prisoner... or you can allow the Empire to return you to your ragtag rebellion."

Grelun stood in silence for several minutes, staring down at the carpet. His impossibly limber fingers flexed unconsciously as he considered the centurion's offer. Finally, he drew a deep breath and said, "I will accompany you. Willingly."

Apparently satisfied, the Romulan signed off without another word.

The Chiarosan turned to face Picard and Riker. "This is the best solution, although I trust the Romulans little, and Ruardh's lapdogs less."

"You could stay with us," Riker offered.

"No. Your Federation's appetite for conquest and penchant for self-serving trickery makes you little different than the Romulans." He paused for a moment, before adding, "Were it not for the actions of several of your crew, my opinion of you would be lower still. But you have shown me respect and mercy, even in apparent defiance of your own Federation's directives."

Picard nodded slightly at the compliment as he stood and faced the Chiarosan. "Before you leave, Grelun, promise me one thing."

"You have restored my life to me, Picard. Ask, and if it is within my power, I will see it done."

"Find a way to bring an honorable peace to your world," Picard said. "Your people stand at the threshold of a new age in your history, and only one thing can hold you back-the fighting that you do amongst yourselves. You know that it cannot continue indefinitely. Sooner or later, both sides will have to learn to forgive the past, and then move forward if your people are ever to build a future."

And handing the First Protector her walking papers might be a good place to start, he thought.

"Your people haven't always made war on each other," Troi said gently to the Chiarosan. "Perhaps you can make such horrors a thing of the past."

Grelun did not move for several long seconds. Picard thought that he looked like a man who was being asked to cut off his own head. But the Chiarosan also appeared to realize that he had a great deal to think about.

"Perhaps," he said after a protracted silence. Turning to face Picard, he said, "Perhaps, one day, peace will come to pass."

After Riker had escorted Grelun from the bridge, Picard sank back into his command chair and sighed wearily. "Take us back into Federation space as soon as the transporter room confirms Grelun's beam-out," he said to the conn officer. "Warp nine-point-two."

Even at that speed, Picard thought, this part of the Geminus Gulf is still six days out of Federation space.

Picard wondered how long it would be before the Romulans abandoned this place, once they determined that their precious subspace singularity was beyond recovery. And if the Chiarosans would then ask him to return-not to help mediate their internal conflicts, but to inaugurate their entry into the Federation as a peaceful, unified people.

Hawk saw the shape silhouetted in the bedroom doorway and recognized it as his partner. He heard a tentative voice, whispering, "Sean?"

"I'm awake, Ranul," he said, shifting backward to a seated position against the bed's pillows. "I've just been taking some quiet time."

The Trill sat down on the edge of the bed, tentatively. He had given Hawk his space during the last several days since their quarrel. Hawk knew it wasn't fair to keep Ranul at a distance, physically or emotionally. He leaned forward and enfolded Ranul in his arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered into his ear, feeling Keru's beard tickling his cheek.

After a few minutes went by, Hawk leaned back again, but he took Ranul's hand in his own.

"So, after saving the universe, defeating the Romulans, and escaping with all your limbs intact, what are you gonna do for an encore?" Ranul's voice took a slightly higher tone, and Hawk knew that his lover was smiling at him in the dark.

Hawk snorted a laugh, and squeezed Ranul's hand. It's now or never, he thought. As jocularly as he could, he said, "I dunno. I was thinking about joining a rogue intelligence organization within Starfleet that goes around the rules to accomplish its goals."

"What?" Even in the dim light, Hawk could sense the look of confusion on Ranul's face.

Sighing heavily, Hawk leaned forward again, coming closer to his partner. "You know all that stuff I was talking to you about before? The classified stuff?"

"Yeah."

"I need to make a decision about it."

"What do you mean?" Keru asked.

"This needs to stay between us for now, Ranul." Hawk saw Keru nod in the dark, and continued speaking. "I was approached by Ambassador Tabor to join a secret organization within Starfleet. They're like Starfleet Intelligence, but more proactive. They respond to threats against the Federation by any means necessary, even if it means going around every law we have, even the Prime Directive. If I'm to believe what Tabor told me-and what Commander Zweller said later-this group is responsible for saving a lot of lives, and for keeping a sometimes too-fragile peace when less decisive authorities refuse to act."

Ranul put his other hand on top of Hawk's. "Why do they want you? Would you have to... leave the Enterprise?"

"I think they want me because of my eidetic memory, but it could be because of my piloting skills, or something else entirely. And don't worry. Nobody has asked me to leave the Enterprise. I'm assuming that I would be their agent on this ship."

"A spy, in other words."

Hawk was uncomfortable, but he didn't sense that Ranul was prejudging him. "No... maybe. I think they feel that they need someone on this ship who can work for them-who is working with them. You know as well as I do that the Enterprise gets itself caught in the middle of a lot of turmoil. And those sorts of situations are their specialty."

"If this organization is so secret, and they want an 'agent' on board, how do we know there isn't one here already?"

Hawk thought for a moment. That hadn't occurred to him. "I guess we don't," he finally offered.

Keru opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again with a sigh. "You remember how I lost my family," he said at last.

Hawk nodded. Keru's father, stepmother, and teenage sister had been living in a settlement on Hakton VII, a planet in the Federation-Cardassian demilitarized zone. Then the Federation signed a treaty with Cardassia in 2370, effectively abandoning several Federation colonies to the Cardassian Union's tender mercies. Many settlers had refused to relocate, not wanting to leave their homes and lands behind. A few months later, the Keru family was among those reported killed during an unprovoked raid on the settlement, following reports of anti-Cardassian factions stockpiling weapons there.

Ranul continued speaking, his voice taking on a slightly bitter edge. "I think that the Federation was wrong in giving its citizens a choice between giving up their homes and accepting Cardassian rule. When they chose to stay, our government deserted those people, knowing that they probably wouldn't survive." He paused for a moment and ruffled the back of Hawk's hair. "I don't have to remind you what was lost in the conflict with Cardassia, Sean."

Logan, Hawk thought glumly. And four other Academy classmates. Gone forever because the Cardassians breached the warp core on the Barbados.

Hawk put his hand up to his partner's cheek, and felt a tear there. Ranul had been close to his family, and invoking their memories now must have struck him hard. But Hawk felt pain as well. Logan had been Hawk's first love, and if their assignments out of the Academy hadn't forced them apart-or if Logan had gotten his transfer before the destruction of the Barbados-they might still be together. And he never would have met Ranul.

So, perhaps some good has come from the pain? He had never considered it that way.

Ranul sniffed, and turned to look at Hawk. "Didn't you once tell me that some of your ancestors fought in the Martian Revolution?"

Hawk nodded and smiled. "Native Martians prefer to call it the War for Martian Independence. And yes, I'm descended from some of the freedom fighters. They were New Reformationists-religious pacifists-so they were among the last people to join in the war. A few of them even fought at Gundersdotter's Dome and helped turn the tide for Martian sovereignty."

"So, you know what they did," Ranul said. "They set aside their stated principles in order to achieve a higher goal. Mars gained its independence, even if blood was spilled on both sides."

"I'm not convinced that Section 31 is always working toward the higher goal though, Ranul." Hawk looked his lover in the eyes, dark pools on the shadowed face.

"I guess if I were in your situation, I'd ask myself where this organization stands on situations of ethics and morality and honor. And if what you feel about Starfleet and its ideals is compatible with that answer." Keru looked down, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "I know that I think the Federation made a mistake in the past. And that mistake cost me my family. Do I think that the Federation and Starfleet always make mistakes? No. Do I think Starfleet's leaders and officers are fallible? You bet I do."

He paused, and added, "But I've never worked under a leader who was acting against what he felt was ethical and honorable."

Hawk leaned forward, and hugged Ranul tightly again, less sure than ever which way to proceed.

The door opened in front of Hawk, and he stepped inside. The officer standing near the console toward the center of the room stiffened slightly, looking at him. Hawk handed him a padd. "I need to speak with Commander Zweller. Here's my authorization, from Commander Riker."

The guard studied the padd's screen for a moment, then gestured toward one of the recessed detention cells across the room. "He's over there. Are you going to be long? You want a chair?"

"No. Actually, I'd prefer to talk to Zweller inside, if you don't mind."

The guard raised an eyebrow, glanced down at the padd again, and nodded. "Okay. If that's what you want. I'll keep an eye out for trouble."

Hawk approached the detention cell and saw Zweller sitting against one wall, his face blank, his eyes closed, and his posture relaxed, as if he were meditating. The forcefield at the front of the cell sparked for a moment, and Hawk stepped through it. The slight crackle behind him meant that the field was back in place.

"Commander?" he asked quietly.

Without opening his eyes, Zweller responded, gesturing beside him on the bench. "Mr. Hawk. Won't you sit down? The view from here is astonishing." His lips moved into a slight smile.

Hawk sat. He was edgy enough because of the discussion he sought, and the spartan accommodations made him even more uncomfortable. "I needed to talk with you a bit more before making my decision," he said, his voice low.

"I trust you've already talked to some of my erstwhile shipmates about me," Zweller said.

Hawk nodded. Unfortunately, those conversations-none of which involved questions about Section 31-had told him little more than he already knew. To hear Roget and Dr. Gomp tell it, Zweller was clearly a traitor who ought to be clapped into irons and sent straight off to the Federation Penal Settlement in New Zealand. Other former Slayton officers, like Kurlan and Tuohy, tended toward maverick stances in their professions, and thus seemed more willing to give Zweller the benefit of the doubt.

Hawk knew that only Zweller could tell him what he really needed to know. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "Why did you... how..."

"How did I come to be involved with this group?" Zweller opened his eyes and stared calmly at Hawk. His gaze seemed almost fatherly, but Hawk didn't sense much warmth behind it. "It's a personal story which I do not care to share in detail. Suffice it to say that I was a part of a mission in which I was forced to question a decision made by my friend and commander. We had received two distress calls-from a Starfleet vessel and an alien craft-with only the time to answer one. If we aided the Starfleet ship, we would save the lives of less than a dozen fellow officers. If we aided the alien ship, we would not only save hundreds of lives, but we would also keep a set of experimental weapons from falling into the clutches of the Breen.

"The decision my commander was compelled to make-because of Starfleet rules and regulations-meant that we were to save the other Starfleet vessel," Zweller continued. "I disagreed. In the process of disabling some of the warp systems to force us to the aid of the aliens, I was caught by a senior engineer. Luckily, the woman who caught me was there to perform the same bit of 'mutiny' that I was engaged in. And she was the person who recruited me for the bureau."

"Did you succeed?"

Zweller nodded. "Oh, yes. The sentients survived because of our actions, and the weapons were kept from the Breen. And the Starfleet officers on the other vessel managed to escape before their ship was destroyed. No lives were lost. To date, there have been no negative repercussions from our operation."

At least none that you're aware of, Hawk thought. Or seem to give a damn about.

Hawk considered Zweller's story for another moment, his mind awhirl with unasked questions. "Don't you think that your actions in this bureau are a form of anarchy? You decide which Starfleet regulations you'll follow, and which ones you won't. What makes you any more legitimate than, say... the Maquis?"

Zweller allowed himself another small smile. "Many of the Maquis weren't even born when I became an agent. But when I was a whole lot younger, I asked myself similar questions. About law and virtue. I concluded that they aren't always the same thing. Earth's history is replete with secret government organizations, and there have always been anarchists who fear those organizations. Both essentially want what's best for themselves and their families-a lawful, orderly society, in which everyone can reach his potential, free of tyranny and oppression.

"But it's their methods that differ," Zweller continued. "In a democratic coalition-which is, after all, what the Federation is-the people elect representatives, who then decide on rules to govern the populace. That's a difficult enough task for humans to achieve on their own, Mr. Hawk, much less humans and Vulcans and Andorians and all the other species that coexist in the UFP. What's good for one world might not be good for another.

"Which is one of the justifications for the Prime Directive. At its base, our noninterference credo should conceivably allow every civilization to control its own destiny. But do we really follow that? Ever?"

Hawk looked at him, his eyebrows scrunched together quizzically. "What do you mean?"

"Every time one of our away teams beams down to the surface of a planet, we are interacting with the people there. We are changing their destiny. We are breaking the Prime Directive simply by being among them."

"I don't see what that has to do with anything," said Hawk.

"You asked me if we represented anarchy, and in one way, I would have to say, 'Yes.' Our very presence in other cultures introduces unpredictable elements that would not normally be there. But once we have made that intrusion, we have an obligation to be the best visitors we can be. Sometimes, that means that we must interfere, for the greater good. And here's the paradox: Those same Starfleet rules that allow us to interject ourselves into alien cultures also forbid us from deliberately helping or hurting them. They keep us from fixing mistakes that can boomerang on us later."

Hawk looked down at his hands, which were clasped in his lap. Zweller made sense, more so than he had during their earlier too-brief exchanges. He was more persuasive than even Tabor had been.

"You asked what made us different from the Maquis," said Zweller. "If you're speaking of pure idealism, there isn't much that's different. The passion and the drive for freedom are the same. And sometimes in the particulars of technique, we don't differ that greatly either. Sometimes, you do what you have to do, even if it gets ugly.

"But the major difference between them and us is that Section 31 exists within Starfleet. It knows the rules and follows them whenever possible, and when circumstances compel us to break those rules, we do it with the greater good of the entire Federation in mind."

"So you wouldn't fight for the same aims as the Maquis?" Hawk asked. "The Federation citizens that the Federation-Cardassian Treaty uprooted were no less important after the treaty than before."

"Those people chose to stay behind, knowing the likely consequences," said Zweller.

Hawk tried not to flinch, but he did nevertheless. Zweller saw it, and put his hand on Hawk's shoulder as he spoke again, more soothingly this time. "I'm not saying that those citizens deserved to be brutalized by the Cardassians. But the Maquis represent an instability in the power struggle, a violent and confrontational wild card. Instead of fighting head-on, and losing lives needlessly, Section 31 has worked to undermine Cardassia's hold on the disputed worlds from within the Cardassian government. You'd be amazed how much change you can effect simply by replacing a few strategically important guls and legates."

"You and Tabor were working to undermine the referendum so that the Chiarosans would vote against Federation membership on Chiaros IV. And ever since the escape on the scoutship, you've avoided telling me the truth as to why."

Zweller sighed. "It was concluded privately by many Starfleet higher-ups that Chiaros IV wasn't valuable enough-or politically stable enough-to fight over. Especially not when you consider what the Romulans offered us in exchange for our withdrawal from the system."

"Which was?"

"Extremely important information. Data about most of the Romulan spies working within the Federation and Starfleet."

Hawk was suddenly extremely uncomfortable with what he was hearing. "You came here to trade an entire star system-and its people-for some ephemeral information? You lost a ship, risked all of our lives-"

Zweller rose as he spoke, his tone more strident. "None of that was part of the plan! The Slayton was destroyed, apparently, because she stumbled onto the secret the Romulans were hiding." His voice softened. "I told you what my initial mission was. My own secondary objective was to help Falhain and his Army of Light in their struggle against Ruardh. Her regime is brutal by any society's standards. In my judgment, my aiding her opponents was compatible with Section 31's plan for Chiaros IV and the Geminus Gulf."

"But in doing so, you were helping the Romulans!"

Zweller smiled slightly. "Not exactly. Falhain's rebels were anti-Federation already, and weren't terribly open to persuasion. Most of them saw us as friends of their enemies, after all. At least until I aided them in their struggle for freedom. Given some time, though, more of them might have come around. Even the Chiarosan electorate might be friendlier to the Federation later on-especially once they've experienced a few years of Romulan oppression firsthand."

"That's an awfully big 'might be,'" Hawk said.

"Yes. More than likely they'll first begin to fight against the Romulans," Zweller said, sighing. "A long shot? Maybe. But they've been beating the odds just by evolving on that gods-forsaken planet. And perhaps having to face an enemy like the Romulans will do more to unite the squabbling Chiarosan tribes than their world's harsh environment ever did."

Hawk gathered his thoughts for a moment. "You know that if you and Tabor had succeeded in your mission without all these complications, the Romulans would have gained control of the Geminus Gulf and the singularity. So who would have been guilty of making a mistake then?"

"And if there hadn't been a singularity, I'd be getting pats on the back for the benefits my mission brought to the Federation." Zweller gave a slight smile, but ultimately looked uncomfortable.