His ancestors had put their lives–and they believed, their souls–on the line to fight for their homes, their world, and their freedom. The Maquis were doing the same.

But it seemed to Hawk that Section 31’s only apparent guiding principle–to defend the Federation using any means the bureau’s unaccountable minions deemed necessary–was flawed. Zweller had just talked about learning from what other decision‑makers had done in the past. But without accountability, without laws, what couldone really learn?

Hawk signaled for the guard to lower the forcefield, then turned toward Zweller. Hawk did not extend his hand. “You’ve given me a lot more to consider, Commander.”

Zweller proffered his own hand, his expression friendly. “I hope you will consider allthat I’ve said. You seem . . . unnerved by what I’ve told you.”

Hawk shook Zweller’s hand quickly and awkwardly, then turned to step out of the cell. “I’ll consider everything before I make up my mind about joining the bureau.”

But as the forcefield shimmered into place behind him, Hawk realized that he had already made his decision.

Anarchy was not the equal to ethics and morality and honor. No matter whatits ultimate goals. Section 31 was asking too high a price.

After taking off his uniform jacket and tossing it on a chair, Picard was retrieving a fresh cup of Earl Grey tea from the replicator when the door chime to his quarters sounded. “Come,” he said to the air, and the door opened. In the hallway stood an uncomfortable‑looking Lieutenant Hawk.

“Come in, Lieutenant,” Picard said, gesturing with his arm.

Hawk walked in, an awkward expression on his face. “I’m sorry to bother you in your quarters, sir.”

“Nonsense,” Picard said, sitting down on a nearby couch. Smiling, he gestured toward a chair. “If it weren’t for you, I might not even behere. I think that entitles you to at least one interruption.” He paused to blow on his tea to cool it as the younger man sat down. “What can I do for you, Sean?”

Hawk looked surprised that the captain had used his first name, but he still seemed to be preoccupied by something else. “Sir, I have something important to tell you. I’m not sure you’ll like it. In fact, I’m sureyou won’t like it.”

Picard leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “What is it, Lieutenant?”

As Hawk spoke, Picard sipped his tea. “A few days ago, I was approached by Ambassador Tabor to join a secret organization within Starfleet. Commander Zweller is a part of it as well. It’s called Section 31.”

Chapter Eighteen

Half an hour had passed since Hawk had interrupted Picard’s relaxation so completely. The young officer had been telling his captain as much as he could about the conversations he had shared with Tabor and Zweller, with Picard interrupting only to ask pointed questions.

Through his astonishment, Picard was again impressed by Hawk’s memory, which allowed him to remember details about the meetings that others might have forgotten. But that admiration was pushed into the background as Picard learned whatever scraps and pieces that Hawk knew about the heretofore secret organization known as Section 31.

Of course, Hawk had no way of knowing that Batanides had already come to him first with her knowledge of the organization and her suspicions. But Hawk’s account of his discussions with Tabor and Zweller forced Picard to wonder what more Batanides knew about the group than she had told him; she wasin Starfleet Intelligence, after all. And yet, she had seemed so sincere in her surprise over Tabor’s and Zweller’s actions. And unlike the two men, Batanides had never tipped her emotional hand to Counselor Troi, nor had she roused the suspicion that she might somehow be blocking her thoughts, as Zweller had done.

The captain paced back and forth. Hawk had quit speaking a few minutes ago, and had the presence of mind to stay silent while Picard considered his options. Still, the young man looked at him expectantly, like a child anticipating a scolding.

“Why didn’t you come to me with this sooner, Lieutenant?” Picard asked.

Hawk looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry, sir. The ambassador made such a point about this being a topsecret organization. I didn’t want to betray that confidence. And I wasn’t sure that you didn’t already know about it. At first,anyhow. And things got so complicated so quickly. I didn’t know who to talk to about it and–”

“Lieutenant, despite Ambassador Tabor’s assertion that he was working for the Federation’s greater good, did it ever occur to you that he might simply have been a traitor? And that Zweller might be one as well?” Picard was staring down at the junior officer. “What proof did you have that eitherof them was working in the best interests of the Federation or Starfleet? Especially given all the conflicts their actions have dragged us into?”

“I didn’t have any proof,” Hawk admitted quietly. “Except that nothing they said seemed wrong, exactly. They had a good answer for everything.”

“Most traitors do. But rules exist for a reason, Lieutenant, as do chains of command. That’s why–”

“At the risk of getting myself into further trouble, sir,” Hawk said, interrupting, “one of the things they pointed out to me repeatedly was how often you and Commander Riker have both broken the rules in pursuit of the greater good.” He gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Picard raised an eyebrow and regarded the lieutenant in silence. He considered lecturing Hawk about the unique decision‑making skills of senior officers, or discoursing on the sorts of extenuating circumstances that might motivate one to . . . benda regulation now and then, when particularly hazardous situations demanded it. But he couldn’t.

Because he realized that the lieutenant was absolutely right.

Ido sometimes take risks or bend the rules, and damn the admirals.Surely, he alwayshad good reasons to make those decisions. But one man’s sound justification was another’s bad excuse.

“Sir?” Hawk stood, looking directly into Picard’s eyes. “For what it’s worth, I didcome forward, even if not right away. I suppose I hesitated because Ambassador Tabor had me nearly convinced that the ends can justify a Starfleet officer’s means . . . sometimes.But after talking things over with Commander Zweller, it seemed to me that for Section 31, the ends alwaysjustify the means. And I decided then that certain lines should never be crossed.”

Picard sighed, smiled slightly, and then clapped one hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “That’s an important lesson to learn, Lieutenant. And I appreciate your honesty about this matter . . . and your forthrightness about the example I set for you and the rest of the crew.”

“What happens now?” Hawk asked, looking apprehensive.

“To Zweller and Section 31? That remains to be seen. You may have blown the lid off of a conspiracy that will rock Starfleet to its core.”

Picard noticed then that Hawk’s chin was trembling slightly. “You’re concerned about how your ownconduct in this matter will look in your service record. Is that it, Lieutenant?”

Hawk nodded, his jaw still shaking. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly.

“I imagine it will go something like this,” Picard said, his tone soothing. “A special commendation will be placed in your file, noting your meritorious actions during the Chiarosan crisis. And you’ll fulfill your duties on the bridge at your next work shift, and the one after that.”

Hawk relaxed visibly, but Picard wasn’t finished. “At some point, you’ll likely have to testify about Zweller’s actions before a Starfleet Command tribunal. But I don’t expect this to affect your career negatively in any way.”

He held his hand out toward the young man. “You’ve exhibited honesty and bravery throughout this mission, Sean. You made the right choices. Allof them. Continue to make them.”