“Which would certainly be a help with his diplomatic missions,” said La Forge.

Batanides raised an eyebrow, her gaze intent on La Forge. “Are you suggesting that the ambassador was using implanted thoughts to force negotiating parties to act against their will?”

“No, sir. Even if he had wanted to do something like that, this device just doesn’t have enough bandwidth for that. But if you wanted to convey general emotional states to another mind, rather than specific thoughts, I think this chip could do it.” La Forge hesitated for a moment. “You probably couldn’t change another person’s thoughts radically, but I think you could ‘nudge’ somebody farther in the direction they were already heading. If you were negotiating with somebody who was calm, you could soothe that person even more during a delicate negotiation. Like having quiet music in the background.”

Picard stared pointedly at La Forge and Data. “Are you both sure about this?”

“It is only a theory at present, sir,” Data said. “We will have to study the chip further to ascertain if this is indeed the case. Nevertheless, I should note that at the time of the ambassador’s death, the chip’s active isolinear circuitry recorded not a state of calm, but rather one of intense rage.”

“That’s not surprising in the least, Commander,” Batanides spoke quietly, her manner stiff, her eyes betraying nothing. “A Chiarosan rebel had just stuck a dagger into him.”

Rage?Picard thought. Shouldn’t there have been fear of imminent death there as well?

But there was no time to dwell on the thought. Picard knew he had to diffuse the tension created by Data’s last statement. “Thank you, Mr. Data. I want you and Mr. La Forge to continue your study of this chip, and give me a full report.”

“That is not all I had to report, sir,” Data said.

“Go ahead.”

“We have identified trace protein residues on Commander Riker’s and Counselor Troi’s combadges. It appears that Commander Cortin Zweller was the last person to handle them.”

The silence in the room was palpable. Data couldn’t have shocked his superiors more if he had suddenly broken out into a soft‑shoe song‑and‑dance routine.

“Are you telling me that Zweller is alive?”asked Picard.

“I cannot confirm that, Captain. But his DNA was found on both the front and rear surfaces of both combadges. It would seem likely that it was he who removed them.”

Batanides’s hand dropped to her side heavily. “ Incredible!”

“Have any of the crew been able to track life signs from Zweller or any of the other Slaytoncrewmembers?” asked Picard.

“No, sir,” Data responded. “The atmospheric disturbances are continuing to block all orbital scans.”

“We haveto find him. Keep trying, Data. Geordi, do whatever you can to penetrate the Chiarosan storms with our sensors. If we can find Zweller, we may find Riker and Troi as well. And the rebels.”

Data and La Forge exited the ready room, leaving Picard standing alone with Crusher and Batanides.

“I don’t know what to think about this, Jean‑Luc,” said Crusher. “This is getting more Byzantine by the minute. The loss of the Slayton,the death of the ambassador, the Romulans, the rebels, this chip, and now Commander Zweller’s involvement . . . Can either of you make any sense out of this?”

Picard looked over at Batanides, who shook her head. He was sure that these new revelations about Tabor and Zweller had added to his old friend’s pain–they had certainly rocked him–but he also knew that she was more than strong enough to soldier on.

“Marta, I know this is difficult for you on a personal level, but it appears that there are a number of hidden agendas at work here. Ambassador Tabor didn’t strike me as enraged when we beamed him aboard the shuttle. I’d characterize him more as . . . frightened and griefstricken–”

“I think that shows that your android got things wrong,” Batanides said coolly, interrupting. “If the implant has been modified as much as he says, how can he be certain whatits purpose was? Or what emotion Aubin was feeling? And how do we know that Corey isn’t being framed as a rebel collaborator?”

“You’re right, Marta,” Picard said calmly, lowering his voice. “We don’t have all the facts. And I’m not accusing either Corey or Ambassador Tabor of anything.”

She nodded, stone‑faced. “I’m delighted to hear that. Treason is a serious charge to lob at a senior ambassador of the Federation. Or at one of your two oldest friends, for that matter.”

“I never said anything about treason, Admiral,” Picard said crisply.

“So what areyou saying?”

Picard paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before speaking. “It certainly seems likely that Cortin Zweller is alive. And we can’t dismiss the possibility that he may be involved with Falhain’s Army of Light, willingly or otherwise. Especially given the apparent presence of illicit Federation weapons down th–”

Picard didn’t have time to finish the thought. The Enterpriselurched suddenly to one side, throwing him against a bulkhead, shoulder‑first. Batanides and Crusher stumbled as well, catching themselves on the desk.

“What the hell?” Picard spat out as the ship stabilized itself. He quickly made his way to the ready‑room door that connected to the bridge, Crusher and Batanides following.

“Status, Mr. Hawk?” Picard asked, heading for the captain’s chair.

Hawk spoke without taking his eyes off the conn panel. “Captain, we appear to have been caught in a massive subspace interstitial slippage. It came out of nowhere. Our instruments haven’t been able to track its source.”

Picard turned to his second officer, who stood at one of the science stations. “Data, could this phenomenon be related to the Slayton’s destruction?”

“It is possible, sir. If the slippage had been 3.47827 percent stronger, it would have caused severe damage to our warp core, as well as possible structural collapse of our nacelle struts.”

“Captain, sensors also showed an anomalous subspace distortion just south of Chiaros IV’s orbital plane,” said Hawk.

“Can you track it?”

“Not precisely, sir. It was intermittent, and now appears to be gone. Should I set a course to investigate?”

Picard’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the viewscreen, which displayed a portion of Chiaros IV’s eastern Dayside limb in its lower corner. “No, Mr. Hawk. Hold position. At the moment, we have a few too many mysteries, and not enough sleuths.”

He turned to the tall blond officer standing behind one of the ops stations on the upper bridge and spoke: “Mr. Daniels, I want all scientific and engineering personnel on duty. I want to know what’s out there in Chiarosan space. I want this ship fortified against any more subspace slippages. And I want a way to get our sensors through that atmosphere.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be in the observation lounge, with Admiral Batanides,” Picard said. He noticed that Lieutenant Hawk was watching him, his eyes narrowed slightly, as if deeply troubled. The younger man seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Was there something you wanted to say, Mr. Hawk?”

The helmsman blushed slightly and turned back to the control panels. “No, sir.”

Picard nodded curtly, then spun on his heel and headed toward the exit, with Batanides and Crusher following him.

Chapter Six

Bundling up in the special thermal clothing Grelun’s quartermaster had issued him, Zweller ventured a short distance outside the Army of Light’s compound–and into the permanent night of Chiaros IV’s dark side. To ensure that Ruardh’s forces couldn’t find them, Grelun’s troops had relieved him of his combadge, though Zweller knew it probably wasn’t detectable through the planet’s heavily ionized atmosphere anyway. But he knew also that outlaws could ill afford to scrimp on caution.