Batanides stopped crying, and sniffed. He felt her hand unclench near his clavicle and wipe at her eyes. And then, she backed away from him, turning slightly as she wiped her cheek.
“Marta, I’m so sorry.”
She straightened slightly, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply through her nose. And then she finally spoke, the tremors still evident in her voice, but the commanding presence of mind returning to her once again. “Yes, thank you, Jean‑Luc. I know you did everything you could to help him.”
“It wasn’t nearly enough,” Picard said, resignedly.
“No, I don’t blame you. From what you’ve said, nothing could have prevented what happened . . . except perhaps a little restraint on the rebels’ part.”
“We don’t know for certain who initiated the fighting. In fact, the first one I saw killed by disruptor fire was a rebel soldier.”
Batanides looked him steadily in the eye, once more the cool senior Starfleet officer. “Regardless, from what you’ve already told me, the rebels were definitely firing on your away team, the government delegation, and the Romulans as well. This Army of Light seems willing to resort to any level of violence to thwart Ruardh’s diplomatic efforts, and to bring the legitimate government down.”
“Marta, there is more to this situation than the Federation has been told. Falhain’s people have made grievous charges against the government. I saw evidence implicating Ruardh in military strikes against civilian dissidents–and even ‘ethnic cleansing.’ I’m no longer so firmly convinced that we’re supporting the right side in this matter.”
She frowned. “Are you saying that we should throw our support behind Falhain’s followers instead? Allow Chiaros IV to fall into the hands of the Romulans?”
“No. What I’m saying is that–”
“Wait.” The admiral held up her hand, her face expressing surprise. “Why didn’t we look at this before? Could the Romulanshave been behind this attack, even at the risk of their own diplomats? They’re already our prime suspects in the Slaytonaffair, whether or not we can prove it.”
Picard nodded, weighing her words. “It could be that the Romulans’ plans for the Geminus Gulf are related to the Slayton’s destruction.”
“Maybe the rebels didn’t touch off the chaos in HagratИ after all, Johnny. Maybe the real culprits were a few well‑placed Romulan agents provocateurs.”
“Unfortunately, Commander Data’s analysis doesn’t quite bear that out. None of the energy signatures he detected were Romulan in origin. But some of them actually appear to belong to Starfleet weapons.”
“So the finger of blame points back toward the rebels after all,” she said, looking satisfied.
“No, not necessarily,” Picard said. “You said that Starfleet Intelligence had been given reports that the rebels were using stolen weapons, but that could have been deliberate disinformation intended to muddy the local politics even further. You could have been strung along, given false information. . . . It certainly seems possible, given that the alleged atrocities of Ruardh’s regime have been kept secret until now.”
For a long moment, Picard’s eyes locked with Batanides’s. Behind her intense stare, he knew that her mind was racing, trying to overcome her grief using cold, hard logic. But the situation on Chiaros IV was too complex, too unstable, to be explained by simple dialectic reasoning. Too many elements were wild, or just plain unknown.
How can we be sure of anything when every corner seems to hide someone’s secret agenda?
Picard’s combadge chirped, and Beverly Crusher’s voice dispelled the silence of the room. “Captain, I’ve found something.”
“The admiral and I will meet you in my ready room,” Picard said crisply.
“What?” Batanides looked incredulous.
Beverly Crusher stood her ground. Picard knew that as a doctor, she had become used to delivering bad news; it didn’t make it easier just because she had done it before, but it had made her emotional hide thicker, so that she didn’t take the reactions personally. Crusher placed a small vial down on the ready‑room table, slowly and deliberately.
“I’m not sure what it is, Admiral. But I found this implant in your . . . in Ambassador Tabor’s brain.”
Picard picked up the vial and studied the small item inside it. It was a microchip of some sort, with multiple hair‑thin cables extruding from its interface, looking like so many ganglia. “Do you have any idea what its purpose might be?”
Crusher sighed. “I’m not sure. It could be medical, but it’s not a piece of technology that I’m familiar with. It might also be something unique to the Ullian species.” She turned slightly toward Batanides. “Did the ambassador ever mention having suffered a brain trauma or neurological disorder in the past?”
“No. He was always in perfect health,” the admiral replied. “But I suppose it could date back to before we met.”
The doors hissed open, and Lieutenant Commanders Data and Geordi La Forge stepped into the ready room, each of them snapping to a more formal posture than normal due to Batanides’s presence.
“Good timing,” said Picard, handing his chief engineer the vial. “Geordi, Data, I want you to analyze this component and determine its purpose.”
“Yes, sir,” La Forge said, and moved to a corner of the ready room with the vial. He scrutinized its contents closely while Data began scanning it with his tricorder. They spoke to each other in low tones.
Batanides turned toward the doctor. “Did you find any other . . . abnormalities during the autopsy, Dr. Crusher?”
“No, Admiral. A full scan showed that his health was as good as you’ve said. His death was entirely the result of the internal and external trauma caused by the Chiarosan weapons.”
“Killed by a dagger and a sword. Not even a disruptor.” Batanides shook her head. “And we don’t even know who did it. Or why.”The admiral stepped over to the window, looking out at the stars. “Every calamity that’s happened on that world, every disaster that’s hit this region . . . and it’s all due to the hidden agendas of rebels and rogues.”
A heavy silence hung in the air. Picard exchanged glances with Crusher, but neither of them seemed inclined to speak just yet.
La Forge cleared his throat, ending the awkward moment.
Picard turned toward Geordi and Data, and immediately noticed the android’s satisfied smile. “Did you find something already?”
“Yes, sir. Our scans have identified the likely source of this chip. Its technology has, however, been greatly modified.”
“Modified from what, Data?” Crusher asked.
“From a Cardassian cranial implant,” said La Forge.
Picard looked stunned. “Cardassian?”
“The chip is similar to a highly classified biotechnological implant that has been used in the past by operatives of the Obsidian Order,” Data said. “The original implants were designed to stimulate endorphins, thus allowing operatives to withstand great amounts of pain, and even torture. Starfleet Command first learned of these devices more than two years ago, thanks to a report filed by Deep Space 9’s chief medical officer, Dr. Julian Bashir.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Batanides. “Why would Aubin have a Cardassianchip inside his head?”
“The chip merely appears to employ Cardassian technological principles,” Data said, addressing the admiral. “However, it was not necessarily builton Cardassia, or by Cardassians.”
Picard nodded. “What is its function, Mr. Data?”
“The original version stimulated the pleasure centers of the brain to make agents of the Obsidian Order resistant to torture. It appears that this new implant has been greatly modified to act as some kind of emotion‑amplification device. As we know, Ambassador Tabor had Ullian telepathic abilities. Our theory is that this device enabled the ambassador to amplify his innate abilities–in effect, to broadcast his own emotions simultaneously to entire groups of people rather than to specific individuals.”