"Me? I'm not-"

"You embody all of the qualities of the best Starfleet officers. Additionally, I believe that you may have an eidetic memory, a valuable tool for an agent."

"I've always had a near-photographic memory, but..." Hawk shook his head, then asked, "Why now?"

"Because I fear that Section 31 may have lost an agent who was aboard the Slayton. Commander Cortin Zweller. He was on an important mission to Chiaros IV-a mission that would have altered the outcome of the peace talks in a way that would ultimately have benefited the Federation."

"You mean... he was there to make sure the Romulans gain control of Chiaros IV."

Tabor nodded slowly. "As you've no doubt surmised, I've decided to make sure that his mission succeeds. Especially if that mission has cost him his life."

If Cortin died trying to trade the Geminus Gulf for that list of Romulan spies, Tabor thought, then I'll be damned if I'm going to let his death be in vain. There's too much history between us for that.

"I may need your aid in this matter, especially if something has happened to the Slayton and its crew. And beyond that... I would like to call upon you from time to time to help Section 31 in defending the Federation."

Tabor felt Hawk's apprehension and fascination grappling like opposing storm fronts. There's trepidation there, yes, and confusion, Tabor thought. But the lad does indeed love a good adventure.

"Are you asking me to leave the Enterprise?" Hawk said.

"Not necessarily. This is the Federation's flagship, after all. Section 31 could certainly use some alert eyes and ears here."

Hawk's crystal-blue eyes were wide as he considered everything Tabor had just said. Tabor could feel that he had punched all the right buttons for the young officer; now, the lieutenant just had to make the right decisions.

"I'm not sure about this, Ambassador. Covert operations, spying..." Hawk trailed off.

"Sounds like something out of one of your mother's books," Tabor said, almost lightheartedly. "There are many instances in history where selfless people have had to stand alone or work in secret for the benefit of all." He let his words hang in the air for a moment. Tabor could sense that it was time to ease up and disengage. Gently, he said, "I understand, Sean. Really, I do. And I appreciate the gravity with which you are approaching my offer. It speaks highly of your personal ethics."

He paused, then added, "But I would ask you to keep our conversation confidential, even from your partner. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that the very safety of the Federation depends upon Section 31's continued secrecy. And I'm trusting you with an enormous secret." Tabor stood, and offered his hand to the young man.

"I understand, sir," Hawk said, standing as well. He gripped the ambassador's hand firmly and shook it. "I just need some time to think." Probing gently, Tabor noted with relief that Hawk had made no plans as yet to inform his superiors of this meeting.

"Certainly. But I hope you can decide soon. I believe that something may have gone terribly wrong in the Chiaros system. We could discover things there that we didn't anticipate. And such surprises could jeopardize not only the bureau's Chiarosan mission, but also the Federation's vital interests elsewhere. If you truly care about the Federation's security as much as I think you do... well, I hope we'll be talking again soon."

Aubin Tabor turned and walked away, his eyes and nose taking in the lovely sights and smells of the arboretum, while his mind drank in the thoughts of a very conflicted Lieutenant Hawk.

As the bridge turbolift doors hissed open, Captain Picard saw Commander Will Riker stand abruptly from the captain's chair, tugging at his tunic. With Admiral Batanides at his side, the scowling Picard strode toward the center of the bridge, looking at the viewscreen.

"Is that what I think it is, Number One?"

"Yes, sir. It's wreckage from the Slayton. It seems to be scattered throughout this region of space. It might have been spread out by radiation pressure, or maybe by a spatial distortion wave of some sort."

Data, already at his post, looked down at the computer panels upon which information scrolled. "These specific pieces are hull plating from the starboard side. Scans show a distinct pattern of disruptor weaponry. The type is indeterminate. I am attempting a more complete scan to match any residual disruptor particles with-"

"Data, are there any survivors?" Picard asked, interrupting.

"Unknown, sir. The dispersal of the wreckage over such a wide volume of space has made it impossible for us to tell if any escape pods were jettisoned." Data turned, looking over his shoulder toward Picard. "If there are any survivors, it is likely that they would have traveled to Chiaros IV."

Batanides spoke up. "Have you been able to trace any combadge signals?"

"The planet's atmosphere appears to be impenetrable to combadge signals and disrupts most other subspace traffic as well, including transporters and sensors," Data said. "Ship-to-ground communication is possible only through the Chiarosan government's orbiting communications tether."

"Have the Chiarosan authorities made any progress searching for survivors?"

"They have been conducting searches ever since the delegation from the Slayton failed to arrive in the capital city. However, the authorities report that no Starfleet personnel have been located anywhere on the planet's surface, either on the Dayside or the Nightside."

"We can't give up on them, Mr. Data," said Picard. "Continue searching for survivors any way you can."

A voice came from behind them. "There are other concerns, Captain." Picard turned to see Ambassador Tabor, standing just outside one of the turbolifts. He had not heard the doors open, nor did he know how long the ambassador had been standing there.

"With all due respect, Ambassador, the Chiarosan negotiations can-"

"Captain, was not your primary mission to this system a diplomatic one?"

Picard seethed inwardly, resenting the ambassador's intrusion. "Yes, it is. But there are missing Starfleet personnel who may be alive in an extremely hostile environment." He pointed to the aurora-swept surface of the planet on the viewscreen, the backdrop to the floating debris from the Slayton.

"I'm well aware of that, Captain. One of those missing is an old friend of yours, and of Vice-Admiral Batanides. But since there seems to be little you can do at the moment to expedite the search, the preparations for my mediation between First Protector Ruardh's government and Falhain's dissident faction should take precedence. It's entirely possible that the Slayton's survivors are safe and sound in the company of the Chiarosan rebels."

Such a development didn't quite fit with Picard's notion of "safe and sound." His eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the ambassador's words. He turned, addressing Riker.

"Number One, prepare a shuttlecraft. We'll depart for the planet just as soon as it's ready. We'll be arriving a little early for the peace talks, but we can spend the extra time searching for survivors."

"Here's hoping we'll find out what happened to the Slayton by talking to her crew," Riker said, as he left for the shuttlebay.

"Amen to that, Number One," Picard said quietly to Riker's back. He turned again toward Tabor. "I trust this will be acceptable to you, Ambassador?"

"Certainly, Captain," Tabor said, smiling graciously. "It seems you have devised a wonderful solution."

"I'll be in my ready room," Picard announced curtly, and exited the bridge.

Chapter Four.

The search had proved fruitless, with not a single trace of wreckage from the Archimedes-nor any combadge signals-showing up on the sensors, even once the Enterprise shuttlecraft Brahe had gone below the worst of the roiling atmospheric storms. As Picard and his away team traveled to the Chiarosan capital, sensors had picked up faint traces of energy signatures which could have belonged to Starfleet weaponry, but the ion-charged air had dispersed the particles so much that nothing conclusive could be found. Still, Picard was wary, remembering Marta Batanides's assertions that the rebel factions were using stolen Starfleet weapons.

The shuttle had been joined by a Chiarosan escort as it neared the capital city, Hagrate, a glittering collection of low-built monolithic towers and spires. The ships had threaded their way between the buildings, flying just above the tallest of them; since the winds buffeted the shuttle even at this low altitude, Picard understood why no building stood higher.

The tallest of them appeared to be religious temples or churches; when the captain had mentioned this, Tabor confirmed that the Chiarosans worshiped multiple deities, and that the more affluent were seen as blessed by the gods. Religious classism, Picard thought, glad that Earth's society had long ago evolved beyond such artificial stratification.

Throughout the city was a vast tangle of pipes and aqueducts, which Picard guessed carried water from whatever processing stations or reservoirs existed. He suspected, given the planet's known shortage of agricultural resources, that the most heavily guarded buildings they had passed on the outskirts of Hagrate might be the water-pumping stations, vapor-extraction facilities, and soil-enhancement plants.

Upon landing, Picard's team-Commander Riker, Data, Counselor Troi, and Ambassador Tabor-disembarked from the Brahe, and were greeted by an armed escort, each carrying bladed weapons hung from ornate sashes. Picard tugged at his formal dress-uniform tunic, straightening it, as a female Chiarosan stepped forward, from behind several of the guards. "I am Senator Curince. Welcome to Chiaros IV."

Picard smiled slightly, gesturing to his companions. "I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the U.S.S. Enterprise. This is my first officer, Commander Will Riker, and two other members of my senior staff, Lieutenant Commander Data, and Counselor Deanna Troi. And this gentleman is Federation Ambassador Aubin Tabor."

Tabor stepped forward and performed a complex series of movements with his hands before bowing almost imperceptibly, his formal robes shimmering slightly as the light caught their metallic threadwork patterns. "I apologize that I cannot greet you with the grace of your people," said Tabor, "but my joints have never been as limber as yours, Madam Senator."

Senator Curince evinced a sharp-toothed grin, obviously impressed. "Your greeting is appreciated nonetheless, Ambassador." Her gaze took him in for a moment more, then she turned her head slightly toward Picard, ignoring his other officers completely. "Were your ship's instruments able to find any trace of the missing diplomatic shuttle?"

"No, Madam Senator," Picard said. "I'm afraid the atmospheric turbulence of your world limits the full range of our sensors."

Curince raised an eyebrow, and said, "Our planet is a harsh and unforgiving one. You are among the first members of any... weaker species to ever visit its surface."

Picard offered a wan smile, unsure whether to feel insulted or not. His eyes shifted over to Tabor, who was smiling calmly.

A Chiarosan assistant approached and handed Curince a large electronic tablet, mounted on which were a display screen and a number of blinking buttons. She looked at it briefly, then held it out to Picard. "This device contains all the data we have on your missing shuttle, and on the apparent use of Starfleet weaponry against our defense troops. Our comm tellers transmitted the files to you previously, but given the effect that recent storms have had on our communications relay, it was decided that an uncorrupted transmission recording might aid you in your search." As Picard prepared to take the device, she added, "If you need one of our people to help you interpret the use of the recorder, we can provide a technician."

Picard gave another polite smile. This woman is really taxing my patience. "Thank you, Senator. We have excellent technicians on our ship. As generous as your offer is, I'm sure we will be able to decode the files ourselves." He turned and handed the machine to Data, almost imperceptibly rolling his eyes. Only his crew saw the gesture.

Curince spoke again. "I also apologize that we are not meeting in the capitol building. The rebels refused to negotiate in a place that was completely under the rightful government's control. We will, instead, be meeting in a private arena, whose location is being decided upon as we speak."

"Will both First Protector Ruardh and Grand General Falhain be present at these negotiations, as planned?" asked Tabor.

"Yes. As will the Romulan diplomatic delegation. Their own ship arrived a few hours ago."

"Ah," said Tabor, bobbing his head agreeably. "I trust that they have sent their best diplomats?"

"The leader of their group is a woman named T'Alik. I do not bother to remember those of her subordinates."

"T'Alik can be very persuasive," Tabor said soberly.

"I think she will not persuade our First Protector much," Curince said. "The Romulan presence is tolerated only because they have not struck against us. They claim neutrality, but Falhain's minions-the so-called 'Army of Light'- have allied themselves politically with the Romulans. We feel that taints the Star Empire, showing them as the enemy of the duly proper government of our world."

One of the Chiarosan escorts let out a discreet clicking sound, holding up a smaller version of the padd-like device Curince had given Picard. The senator looked at it briefly, then back to the landing party. "The location has been announced. Security will be minimal, so it is our fervent hope that Falhain's people will act honorably in this matter." She paused for a moment, before looking pointedly at Tabor and Picard. "I am hopeful that the presence of an outside arbiter at this meeting-and that of the Federation-will allow for a sense of security, and begin a closure of this difficult rift among our people."

Tabor smiled warmly. "Madam Senator, I believe I can promise you that the detente that we are about to inaugurate today will change the future of Chiaros IV-for the better... and forever."

Picard stared at Tabor for a moment. He hadn't liked the ambassador much, but he had to admit that the man had both charm and a persuasive demeanor. Perhaps he could help to bring an end to the Chiarosan political struggle.

As they stepped forward, Tabor leaned in toward Picard and whispered. "Senator Curince is telling the truth about the Archimedes. At least as far as she knows." Picard did not need to question how the Ullian ambassador was aware of what Curince knew or did not know. He also knew that Ullian telepathy tended to be more intrusive than one of Troi's empathic scans.

Picard wondered: If the man would enter the senator's mind with so little compunction, then what else might he be capable of?

Curince didn't explain what their meeting place had once been used for, and neither Picard nor Tabor asked. The circular arena had many columns and benches in the main part, with shadowed recesses and rows of stadium seating rising up on every side. Although it seemed almost like a sporting or gladiatorial arena, Picard was under the impression that it might actually have been used for lectures or debates of some sort. Given the visible dust, it had not been used in quite some time.

Standing in the well-lit center of the arena was First Protector Ruardh and her bodyguards, while the perimeter of the room was ringed with a dozen or more soldiers. A stately matron, Ruardh was wearing an auburn dress that complimented the long plaited braid of brown-blond hair that curled down her shoulders. The dress was split in the center, wrapping around each leg, allowing for more ease of movement.

Senator Curince introduced Tabor to Ruardh, and the ambassador performed the elaborate hand greeting again. Picard stepped forward as his own name was called, bowing slightly to the Chiarosan leader. "I'm sorry that I cannot greet you in the manner of your people, First Protector," he said, echoing Tabor's earlier comment. He also knew better than to introduce his "subordinates" this time.

"No slight is taken, Captain. And your very presence here suggests to me that you will be much more... successful than the previous delegation the Federation sent."

"Captain Picard is often successful, First Protector," said a strong voice. A robed Romulan woman stepped toward the group from a side entrance, three other Romulan functionaries at her sides. "He commands Starfleet's finest warcraft, the vaunted U.S.S. Enterprise. He brings you a honey-tongued diplomat in a vessel that could level your city if he commanded it. Small wonder you would choose to ally yourself with the Federation; but can you truly trust a people who are so weak that they lose ships and weapons one day, then arrive in a battleship the next?"

"I know that I cannot trust the Romulans, Ambassador T'Alik," Ruardh said, her head swiveling to the side. "You have chosen to ally yourself with those who oppose me."

"We have not chosen either side, Protector. It is not our weaponry that your opposition has used against you," T'Alik said, her haughty gaze moving toward Picard and his crew. "We have offered the rulers of Chiaros IV the protection of the Romulan Star Empire. It is you who have chosen to side with the Federation. You might, upon further consideration, choose to ally yourself with us. That is our hope."

Picard looked to Tabor to see if the man was going to respond, but Tabor's gaze told him to let the matter alone. As if cued by T'Alik's speech, the rebel Chiarosans melted out of the shadows in the arena, their triple-jointed forms moving lithely and almost soundlessly. Ruardh and her men did not seem surprised-and the Romulans' preternatural calm implied that they expected the intrusion-but the Starfleet officers didn't disguise their own jumpiness quite as well. With the rebels now ringing the outer perimeter of the arena, Picard felt like prey-even more so, given that both the rebels and the bodyguards were all heavily armed.

A few of the rebels parted, allowing a tall, blond-haired Chiarosan to stride forward, a shorter dark-haired man trailing him. "Ruardh!" the blond snarled. "I half-expected you to renege on our meeting."

The matronly Chiarosan leader stared impassively at the light-haired rebel. "And I had expected you to attack rather than to negotiate, Falhain."

Aubin Tabor stepped forward, holding his hands out, palms facing upward. "It seems that both sides have come in good faith, despite any preconceptions either had held toward the other. Shall we proceed? There is precious little time remaining-three days, in fact-before the Chiarosan referendum begins."

Falhain turned his head, his crystalline eyes narrowed and steely. "You must be the Federation ambassador, come to convince us of the rightness of Ruardh's cause."

Tabor bowed his head slightly, and again performed the complex series of hand-gestures that Picard had seen twice earlier. "I am Aubin Tabor, Grand General Falhain. But I am not here to champion Protector Ruardh's cause, only to find a pathway to peace between your faction and hers."

The darker rebel by Falhain's side spoke up then, his voice challenging. "As far as we know, your Federation's laws forbid you to interfere with indigenous cultures. Why do you meddle with ours?" The man looked briefly at T'Alik and her contingent, who stood to the side, passive.

Tabor smiled benignly, his voice not rising at all. "You speak of the Prime Directive. A wise and wonderful rule, but it is not the only thing that governs us, just as one law is not all that governs you. And because we have been asked to intervene on behalf of the legal government of Chiaros-"

"Legal?" Falhain shouted then, taking a menacing step forward. Picard gave a quick glance over to Riker, who had taken a defensive stance. Riker stood down after Picard's gaze traveled to the face of Deanna Troi. Her dark eyes were intent on Tabor and the two Chiarosans as she appraised their intentions. The captain was relieved to note that the counselor seemed to find the natives' emotions more accessible than those of the ambassador. Seeing no immediate alarm on Troi's face, Picard relaxed a bit.

"Does the Federation know how the 'legal' Protector keeps hold of her throne?" Falhain continued. "Are they aware of the thousands of Chiarosans she has ordered slaughtered, the villages she has commanded to be burned, the children she has willed to be eviscerated? The dry riverbeds of Chiaros now run gray with her victims' lifeblood."

Ruardh looked appalled. "You exaggerate, Falhain, as always. You were the one who left my service, just as those who follow you made their choice to embrace political dissidence." She turned her back on Falhain, though her head swiveled to remain looking at him as she walked behind one of the desk-style platforms nearby. "You paint me as a monster, and yet where is the proof of my alleged atrocities?"

Tabor stepped forward, his voice soothing. "Protector, General, we need to focus on the matters at-"

"You think that this is not the matter at hand?" Falhain reared back, and Picard realized that his full height was more imposing than he had originally imagined. His brows furrowed, and his sharp teeth glistened as he spat his interruption. "The government that the Federation has allied itself with has been practicing genocide. It is not enough that their raiding parties remove our precious soil and water, leaving the outland villages to choke on dust-they also murder any who have the courage to gainsay their greed, whether armed or not. Our fight is not about politics. We struggle for our very survival!"

The dark-haired aide to Falhain reached behind his back, his arms swiveling impossibly in his shoulder sockets. As the Chiarosan bodyguards defensively unsheathed their weapons, he removed a device from a satchel he wore on his back and displayed it in front of him. It was less than half a meter tall, with three short legs at its base, and a circular lens at its top.

"You ask for proof, Ruardh?" Falhain swiveled his head toward Picard and his officers. "No doubt your Starfleet allies are equally suspicious of my motives, having heard only your arguments to the Federation. Here then are the records of your monstrous deeds. Grelun?"

Responding to Falhain's command, the dark-haired warrior touched a recessed space on the device, which he had placed on the floor. A flickering light shot up into the air, before coalescing into a three-dimensional, full-motion image of a village. Homes were burning, as their inhabitants tried to put them out. Chiarosan troops, in military garb, were attacking the villagers, killing many of them. Picard winced to see that many of the victims were women and children.

Data leaned toward Picard and Riker, his voice carefully modulated so that it was not heard by the others. "It appears to be a holographic projection, sir."

"That I can figure out for myself, Data," Picard whispered. "What I need to know is whether or not these images are genuine."

"Understood, sir."

The first image dissolved into another image, this time of the Chiarosan soldiers leading villagers down a road. Their captives-people of all ages-were bound, with half-meter tethers holding each of them together from neck to neck. That hologram changed to another, this one showing a soldier bayoneting an older man in the back as he stood at the edge of a long trench dug into the soil. Lying in the trench were the bodies of many others, their gray blood oozing from wounds in their backs or sides, or from slit throats. Thick clouds of insects buzzed above the corpses.

Data leaned in again. "While it is possible to forge any scene with holographic technology, I believe these images are taken from real events. The slight focus problems and partial blockage in these images implies that the person or persons recording them were in concealment."

But a clever forger could fake that as well, Picard thought. Still, it did seem real enough to raise his concern.

Picard stepped forward, tugging at the bottom of his tunic. "General Falhain, I believe we have seen enough for the moment. Despite your conviction that we are siding wholeheartedly with Protector Ruardh, it seems that some doubt has been raised about the manner in which she governs her people. None of these images, nor this information, were ever presented to the Federation Council-"

"There's a good reason for that, Captain," Ruardh said, imperiously spitting out the final word as though it left a bad taste in her mouth. "The reason is that these images are partially a fabrication, and partially the work of Falhain himself. As you are aware, Falhain used to lead my royal troops, and many of the regiments are still faithful to him. He commanded his men to commit these crimes, then accused me of giving the orders."