Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [124]
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,