Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [36]
“We’ve got to get him to the Enterprise,” Picard said. “Data, get us out of here.”
As the android moved to the shuttle’s flight controls, Picard tried to apply firmer pressure to Tabor’s neck wound, holding his head upward. The knife still jutted from his chest, but Picard knew better than to try to remove it before getting him back to the Enterprise. Crusher could save him, if anyone could. He silently cursed the fact that shuttles did not come equipped with Emergency Medical Holograms, and vowed to bring that up with Starfleet Command in his next report.
Entering the stormy atmosphere, the shuttle lurched from side to side. Picard braced himself with one hand, trying not to let Tabor move too much. Tabor’s left hand grabbed weakly at Picard’s tunic, pulling him down. The ambassador was trying to say something, though the sounds coming from his mouth made Picard’s skin crawl. He leaned in closely, listening.
“Fal… Falhain… is… dead.”
What had seemed a heated debate less than ten minutes ago had just ended more horribly than Picard could ever have imagined. Falhain, the leader of the rebels, was now a martyr. Ambassador Tabor lay dying in his arms. Riker and Troi were missing, and possibly killed as well. The Chiarosan government-however corrupt-might soon fall to the Romulan Empire. And there was still no sign of survivors from the Slayton.
These are the times that try men’s souls, he thought ruefully as the shuttle sped into orbit.
Chapter Five
Hawk sat in the darkened quarters, the soothing voices of a Celtic choir washing over him from the computer speakers. Sometimes it felt odd to him, hearing the ancient songs and melodies of his pre-Martian forebears-the bohdran and the oud and the harps-reverberating in the pristine starship environment. He did feel, however, that the juxtaposition of his life now, traveling the stars with the lives of his ancestors, the nomadic Celts who explored ancient Europe, created a comfortable overlap. Exploration was in his blood.
But is espionage?
Following his meeting with Ambassador Tabor in the arboretum, Hawk had eaten a meal-alone in a storage bay-and then wandered the corridors of the ship. He purposely avoided walking anywhere near work stations of crewmembers he was friendly with; he didn’t really want to talk to anyone. Ranul hadn’t contacted him on his combadge, but he knew that eventually, he would.
Hawk had finally returned to their quarters to further ruminate about what he’d been told. The ambassador’s words replayed in his mind almost exactly. His mem-ory was-as always-crystal clear. An eidetic memory. That’s what Tabor had called it. But what good were Tabor’s words, laid out in his mind like a map, if he wasn’t sure whether he could trust the intent behind them?
It made sense, really, that Starfleet would have a secret intelligence branch. Every other major power in the quadrant had its own intelligence communities. Still, it felt at odds with the stated purpose of Starfleet to engage in the kind of surveillance and skulduggery that Earth’s inhabitants had left behind after making first contact.
At the same time, he knew that Starfleet wasn’t infallible. During his time as a junior officer and serving on the Enterprise-especially, perhaps, while serving on the Enterprise-he had seen many of his superior officers make decisions that ran counter to the tenets he had been taught at the Academy. Although those choices were always made with the best intentions, he saw that the rules were made to flex and bend to fit the situations. The Prime Directive was clearly not the end-all of solutions.
Although the music drowned out the sound of the opening doors, the sliver of light that came into the room signaled to Hawk that Keru had returned. He looked up and gave his partner a half-smile, then resumed his downward gaze. He knew that Keru would sense that something was wrong; he just didn’t know how he could talk to him about the subject without breaking the secrecy