Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [76]
Standing beside Grelun’s biobed, Crusher was methodically applying a dermal regenerator to wounds on the Chiarosan’s forearms; the burns began to vanish almost immediately. Picard glanced at the biobed readouts. To his untrained eye, the Chiarosan’s vital signs appeared strong.
A quartet of alert security personnel stood behind Crusher, watching vigilantly as she worked. Ensign Lynch, the head of the security detail, stared wide-eyed at the Chiarosan, obviously impressed.
“He must mass a quarter of a ton,” Lynch said incredulously. “What I wouldn’t give to see him in action.”
Batanides scowled. “Ensign, you’d better pray that you never have to tangle with anything that big or mean outside of your daydreams.”
Lynch reddened slightly, as though chastised. But he did not avert his gaze from the slumbering Chiarosan.
Picard glanced to the other side of the sickbay, where Dr. Anthony, Dr. Gomp, Nurse Ogawa, and a pair of orderlies were tending to the various bumps and bruises suffered by Counselor Troi, Lieutenant Hawk, and several members of the Slayton crew, none of whom appeared to be grievously injured. Liz Kurlan, the Slayton’s xenoanthropologist, still had a livid bruise across her forehead. Chief Engineer Hearn took a tentative step on a newly repaired knee.
Picard noticed that Zweller was conspicuously absent, as was Riker.
Picard tapped his combadge. “Computer, locate Commander Cortin Zweller.”
“Commander Cortin Zweller is in the main shuttlebay,” the computer responded.
During the flight back to the Enterprise, Riker had mentioned Zweller’s propensity for cloak-and-dagger behavior. For a split second, he feared that Corey might be trying to flee the ship.
“Computer, is anyone with Commander Zweller?”
“Commander Zweller is with Commander Riker and Lieutenant Commander La Forge.”
Batanides approached Picard and spoke quietly. “At least we know he’s staying put. I think we ought to go to the shuttlebay and ask him for some details about what he saw down on Chiaros IV.”
“I quite agree,” Picard said quietly. “Then we can return to the problem of whether we can repatriate a guest whose government wants to murder him.” He nodded toward Grelun.
Suddenly, the Chiarosan began to move, as though roused by the captain’s words. His crystalline eyes fluttered open, darted quickly about the room, and locked with Picard’s. One of his large, bronzed hands reached upward toward Crusher, who backed away as Lynch and the other security officers drew their phasers. The forcefield restraints crackled against Grelun’s biceps and thighs, forcing him back against the table. He struggled again, this time throwing his body into the forcefield.
Through it all, his gaze never wavered from Picard’s.
“He’s going to kill himself if he keeps that up,” Crusher said. Moving with a dancer’s quickness, she emptied a hypospray into one of the Chiarosan’s treelike calves.
As he began slipping back into unconsciousness, Grelun whispered three clearly-articulated syllables. From the shocked expressions on the other faces in the room, Picard knew instantly that he had heard the Chiarosan correctly, and that Batanides and Crusher had as well. No one else spoke for a long moment.
Finally, Batanides broke the silence. “Well, that certainly complicates things, Jean-Luc.”
Picard nodded gently. “It changes everything.” But at least I’m no longer bound by law to hand this man over to his executioners, regardless of how the vote turns out.
“News travels fast on Chiaros IV,” Batanides said. “How do you think those people will react when they learn that a Starfleet captain has decided to harbor a known terrorist on the Federation’s flagship?”
Picard’s voice turned to sandpaper. “It won’t be pretty. But my duty under both interstellar law and Starfleet regulations is clear. Grelun will receive Federation protection pending a full investigation of Falhain’s allegations against Ruardh’s government. Referendum or no referendum.”
His options were sharply limited