Section 31_ Rogue - Andy Mangels [79]
“Commander,” Troi said, unflappably patient, “I’ve known ever since we were confined together that you’ve been concealing something significant. All I’ve ever sensed from you is a superficial emotional veneer, almost as though you were able to consciously block my empathic abilities.”
Zweller adopted a sincere expression that belied his words. “Now that would be a remarkable talent. On the other hand, I may just be an extremely shallow person. Maybe there’s nothing underneath that ‘emotional veneer,’ as you call it.”
Or perhaps it conceals hidden compartments, Picard thought. Like a smuggler’s cargo hold.
Turning toward Picard, Troi said, “I don’t think I’m going to be of any help to you here, Captain. Perhaps it would be better if I started interviewing the other Slayton survivors instead.”
“Very well,” Picard said. “Make it so.”
As Troi got up to leave the ready room, Zweller spoke to her back. “Good idea, Counselor. I knew you’d get around to helping those traumatized people eventually.”
Troi paused in the open doorway for a moment as though contemplating a rejoinder. Then, apparently realizing the futility of the gesture, she departed.
Picard was alone with his two oldest friends for the first time in more than four decades. It struck him then just how profoundly time could change a man. Yes, this Corey Zweller was still a hothead, as he had been at Starfleet Academy; but the loyal, to-Hell-and-back Cortin Zweller, the comrade-at-arms who had fought the Nausicaans at Bonestell so long ago, that Cortin Zweller had never made such blatant stabs at a colleague’s emotional buttons.
“Corey… did you give the rebels weapons?” Batanides said, beginning to lose her patience.
Zweller answered with exasperating serenity. “Don’t you think Grelun would have shown me a little more gratitude if I had?”
“Not if he thought you were selling him out to Ruardh,” Picard said.
Zweller sat down in one of the seats between the sofa and Picard’s desk. Focusing his gaze on the viewport, he said, “Grelun suffers from a freedom fighter’s paranoia. When he caught me hacking into the rebel base’s command systems, he naturally assumed the worst.”
“And why were you doing that?” Batanides said.
“I was a prisoner, just like my crewmates. And a prisoner’s first duty is to escape.”
Batanides studied him with obvious skepticism. “Some of your crewmates don’t seem to believe that, Corey. Dr. Gomp told me that you’d received special treatment from your jailers all along.”
“Must have been that vaunted ‘mastery of manipulation’ the counselor says I excel in,” Zweller said dismissively. Turning toward Picard, he said, “C’mon, Johnny, don’t tell me you’ve never charmed your way into an adversary’s good graces before turning the tables on him.”
Picard felt his own fund of patience beginning to run out. “Not by violating my oath as a Starfleet officer.”
“If I did bend a regulation or two,” Zweller said, “then you can rest assured that I did it in the service of a greater good.”
“You mean the Army of Light’s struggle against Ruardh’s government,” Batanides said.
“If you like,” replied Zweller quietly, nodding slightly.
Batanides scowled. “I thought you said Grelun was an adversary.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to know exactly what that means, isn’t it?” Zweller said tartly. “You won’t find any angels on Chiaros IV, Marta. Everyone’s hands get bloody in a civil war.”
How ironic, Picard thought, that Chiarosan blood is gray.
He decided to try a placating tone. “Corey, please. You have to admit that you aren’t being very forthcoming. You still haven’t answered our primary question. For the sake of the friendship the three of us shared, I would have hoped that you’d-“
Zweller interrupted gently. “That’s exactly why I can’t tell you anything more, Johnny. If you keep probing into whatever I might or might not have done down there, you’re only going to put yourselves in harm’s way. Frankly, I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that.”
“Corey, that almost sounds