Gauntlet - Michael Jan Friedman [82]
Picard saw the problem. “And you wanted to prevent that.”
“In the worst way,” Carridine told him.
“And he couldn’t go to the Federation,” said Greenbriar, “because the planet’s dominant species was a prespaceflight culture.”
Picard nodded. “The Prime Directive.”
“So,” Carridine continued, “I bought a ship and put a crew together and took the matter into my own hands.”
“And defended this world on your own,” Picard concluded.
“Not that it was easy. I wasn’t Starfleet, so it was difficult to acquire much in the way of firepower. So I took a different tack.”
Carridine went on to describe his boyhood fascination with Earth’s twentieth-century buccaneers—men like Bluebeard and Jean Lafitte. Inspired by them, he set out to create a situation that would keep unsavory characters from strip-mining Daribund.
“If I became a pirate,” he said, “if I raided the ships of Federation member worlds, Starfleet was bound to come after me eventually. And if Starfleet was focusing its attention on this part of space, what pirate in his right mind would try to horn in?”
Picard followed the reasoning. “And as long as real pirates stayed away, Daribund’s pre-sentients would remain safe.”
It was a clever scheme. And more important, it had worked, up to then. The Stargazer’s presence here was evidence of that.
Picard regarded Greenbriar. “And just how did you become involved in this enterprise?”
Greenbriar shrugged. “I caught the White Wolf, just as you did. But as I was about to take him in, he told me the story he’s telling you—and I changed my mind.”
Picard frowned. “You let him go.”
“He did more than that,” said Carridine.
“I became his ally,” Greenbriar told them without remorse. “I became his informant. Whenever Starfleet sent a ship after him, I let him know about it in advance. Until now, that was the extent of my involvement. By making it here, you compelled me to do more.”
“To attack a colleague,” Picard said.
Greenbriar nodded. “Yes.”
“Unfortunately,” Carridine said, “I’ve now been apprehended a second time, and I don’t imagine you’ll be as open-minded as Captain Greenbriar was. It seems Daribund is about to lose its defender.”
He paused, no doubt waiting for his comment—and its implications—to sink in. When he spoke again to the captain, it was as one reasonable man to another.
“On the other hand, Captain Greenbriar saw the injustice in apprehending the White Wolf. I hope you will see the injustice as well, Captain—and act accordingly.”
Picard looked at him. “You’re suggesting that I let you go? After all we’ve gone through to apprehend you?”
“What I’m suggesting,” said Carridine, “is that you follow the impulses that led you to become a Starfleet officer in the first place. No more, no less.”
Picard frowned. He hated the idea of deceiving his superiors as Greenbriar had. He hated even the suggestion of it. He had taken a vow when he entered Starfleet, and he had every intention of remaining true to it.
And yet . . .
It was difficult not to see Carridine’s point. The man was protecting something worthwhile, something no one else was inclined to protect, and harming no one in the process.
The White Wolf was on the side of the angels, strange as it seemed. And if Picard wanted to be on the side of the angels as well, there was only one choice he could make.
With a sigh, he tapped his communicator and summoned Ben Zoma. Then he tapped it again and said, “Picard to Simenon.”
The reply came a moment later. “Simenon here.”
“I’d like to see you in my ready room,” Picard told him. “You and I have an important matter to discuss.”
“What’s that?” asked the engineer.
“In my ready room,” the captain maintained.
Simenon grumbled. “As you wish.”
Picard turned to Carridine. “I’m going to arrange a shutdown of the Stargazer’s impulse engines. An accidental shutdown, of course. It will present only a minor inconvenience to my engineering staff, but its timing will be most unfortunate, as it will allow the legendary White Wolf to slip through my fingers.”
Carridine smiled in relief. “Thank you,