Prologue

COMMANDER WILLIAM RIKER leaned back in the command chair on the bridge of the Enterprise and touched the insignia on his chest. “Riker to Captain Picard.”

“Picard here,” the captain responded from his quarters. “What is it, Number One?”

“Sir, we’re making our approach to Starbase 37,” Riker replied. “We should be ready to begin docking procedures in about five minutes.”

“Very good, Number One. Thank you. I will be there shortly.”

Riker looked up at the main viewer. Starbase 37, revolving in orbit above Artemis VI, filled the screen. It was the first time the Enterprise had ever visited this sector, and Riker was painfully aware that he had not read anything about the K’tralli system since his days at the Academy. He had intended to refresh his memory before they arrived at the starbase, but his duties had left him with no opportunity to do so. What with a backlog of crew efficiency reports to complete; having to go over and sign off on one of Geordi’s exhaustively detailed, periodic maintenance reports; then having to see Dr. Crusher for an overdue physical that he had already put off at least a dozen times until she finally insisted that he had to do it now, there had simply been no chance to consult the data banks. Now they were here, and almost ready to begin docking procedures.

The commander of Starbase 37 was an old friend of the captain’s. Riker knew Picard would want his crew to present their usual spit-and-polish, and it wouldn’t do for the first officer not to be adequately briefed. Fortunately, Riker had access to a unique last resort in Lieutenant Commander Data.

“Mr. Data,” he said, “access your memory under the subject headings of Starbase 37, Artemis VI, and the K’tralli system and give us a brief summary overview, if you please.”

“Very well, sir,” the android replied, from his forward console. He cocked his head slightly to one side, an affected mannerism Riker knew well. Data had picked it up from observing humans and often did it when he was processing information or as an interrogative expression. Riker listened carefully as the android launched into a summary of his programming concerning the subjects specified.

“Starbase 37 was established thirty-five years ago in orbit above Artemis VI, the only Federation colony planet in the K’tralli system. There are five other inhabited planets in the sector. A’tray, L’ahdor, D’rahl, and S’trayn were all colonized from the K’tralli homeworld, N’trahn. First contact with the K’trall occurred approximately forty years ago, and led to the treaty which resulted in the colonization of the planet now known as Artemis VI.

“The K’trall are descended from the same racial stock as the Vulcans and the Romulans,” Data continued, “but they are a distant, offshoot civilization, with a culture all their own, having hardly anything in common with their racial forebears save for their physical appearance. Unlike Vulcans, they express emotion, but are far less aggressive than the Romulans.

“For much of their history, the K’trall had a monarchical form of government,” Data went on, “but approximately ten years before the Federation made contact with them, a revolution had occurred that brought about a dictatorship. At the time of first contact, their economy was in a state of near total collapse, and their provisional government was having difficulty effecting the promised democratic reforms. They welcomed contact with the Federation, and were eager for economic aid and establishing trade. Following the negotiation of the treaty that made them members of the Federation, the K’trall invited the colonization of Artemis VI, the last of the easily habitable planets in their system. Starbase 37 was established as a diplomatic outpost, and to administer the Federation colony on Artemis VI, in addition to all Federation shipping in the sector. For the past thirty-five years, that has remained the primary mission of Starbase 37 and its personnel. There is, at present, no Federation ambassador to the K’trall. Ambassador Bowman, who last held the post, died of natural causes recently and his replacement has not yet been appointed. Until a new ambassador is designated, those duties are being filled by the current commander of Starbase 37—”

“Captain Ivan Valentinovitch Gruzinov,” said Picard, as he came onto the bridge.

Riker immediately got to his feet.

“Yes, sir, that is correct,” said Data.

“Captain Gruzinov is an old friend, Mr. Data,” said Picard, as Riker moved aside to let him assume the command chair. “He was in his last year at the Academy when I was just a plebe. There were many times I stood braced at attention before him while he called me on the carpet.” Picard smiled at the memory as he sat down.

Data cocked his head slightly to one side. “If I understand the reference correctly, sir, you mean to say that he upbraided you for some perceived flaw in the performance of your duties?”

“Yes, indeed, and most vociferously,” replied Picard.

“Were there frequent flaws in your performance at Starfleet Academy, sir?” asked Data.

Riker cleared his throat softly. Picard gave him a sidelong look. Riker was staying out of this one. “In certain matters pertaining to discipline, yes, I regret to say,” Picard admitted. “Especially during my first year. Cadet First Lieutenant Gruzinov made it something of a personal crusade to whip me into shape. And though I resented him for it mightily at the time, looking back, I am grateful for his efforts. He provided me with no small amount of motivation, if for no other reason than to deny him the satisfaction of finding fault with me.” Picard smiled as he remembered. “At the time, I absolutely loathed him, but following my graduation, we served together aboard the Antares and became good friends. I have not seen him now in over twenty years.”

“Captain, we are being hailed by Starbase 37,” Lieutenant Worf said, from his console.

“Onscreen, Mr. Worf,” Picard said.

Riker turned toward the main viewscreen. The image that appeared on the screen was that of an officer a few years Picard’s senior, robust and fit, with broad shoulders and a thick chest, close-cropped gray hair and a wide, rugged-looking face with broad features and pale blue eyes. “Greetings, Enterprise,” he said, with a slight Russian accent, then smiled. “Welcome to Starbase 37, Jean-Luc.”

“Thank you, Ivan,” Picard replied, and Riker noted that he gave the name the correct Russian pronunciation, saying the “I” as a long “E” and accenting the first syllable. “It’s been a long time, old friend. You’re looking well.”

“Flying a desk agrees with me,” replied Gruzinov. “I’m getting soft in my old age. You are cleared to begin docking procedures. Try not to bump anything on your way in. I’ll see you when you come aboard.”

He signed off, and the image on the screen was replaced by that of Starbase 37, its docking port filling the viewer.

“Try not to bump anything?” said Worf, glancing at Picard in a puzzled manner.

Picard looked slightly irritated. “A rather annoying reference to the first time I ever directed a docking procedure on an Academy simulator, Mr. Worf,” he replied. “I ordered the helmsman to engage starboard forward maneuvering thrusters, when I should have said starboard rear maneuvering thrusters.”

“Ah, that kind of bump,” said Riker, with a grin. He recalled his own early experience at simulated docking procedures at the Academy all too well. Docking a Galaxy-class starship was a great deal more difficult than it looked, and it looked damn near impossible to a first-year cadet. “I think we’ve all done at least one of those,” he added, with a smile.

“Correction, Number One,” Picard said. “There was one cadet at the Academy who aced the simulation first time out, isn’t that right, Mr. Data? She’s all yours. Why don’t you show them how it’s done?”

“Yes, sir,” the android replied, lining the ship up for its approach.

Data executed the docking maneuver with unbelievably smooth precision. Riker smiled as he thought how the crew of the starbase would be impressed at the way Data brought the ship in, computing the approach so accurately that they were simply able to drift into the docking port completely without the use of maneuvering thrusters for minute course corrections, except merely to slow the ship’s drift as they locked into berth. It was a very showy display, the sort of thing the starbase crew would talk about for quite some time to come.

A short while later, they were being escorted down the companionway leading to the central hub of the starbase and the commander’s office. Picard had chosen Riker, Worf, Data, and Troi to accompany him. Riker noted how all the starbase personnel they passed saluted their party smartly. Generally, military protocol was not so formally observed in Starfleet. The salutes were not required, but they were being given as a courtesy. It spoke well of Captain Gruzinov’s leadership, thought Riker.

Gruzinov rose from his chair and came around his desk to greet them as they came into his office. He was a large man, big-boned and powerful-looking. Riker thought he must have made an intimidating upperclassman in his days with Picard at the Academy. “Jean-Luc!” he said, extending his hand to Picard warmly.

“It’s good to see you, Ivan,” Picard said. “You’ve put on a bit of weight.”

“And you look depressingly fit,” Gruzinov replied, with a grin. “It’s good to see you, too, old friend.”

“Allow me to present my officers,” Picard said. “My first officer, Commander William Riker; ship’s counselor, Deanna Troi; Lieutenant Worf, chief of weapons and security; and my helmsman and navigator, Lieutenant Commander Data.”

Gruzinov greeted each of them in turn. When he came to Data, he said, “I saw the way you brought the ship in, Mr. Data. Most impressive. I see the stories I’ve heard about you have not been exaggerated.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Data.

“Well, I’d be pleased if you’d all join me for a drink,” Gruzinov said.

“We’d be delighted,” said Picard.

“I think you’ll find the adjoining briefing room a bit more comfortable,” Gruzinov said, beckoning them toward a connecting door. They went through into a small and very comfortably appointed briefing room, similar to the one they had aboard their own ship, Riker thought.

“Please, be seated,” said Gruzinov. “I have asked a member of my staff to join us. She will be arriving shortly.”

He poured them drinks, enjoying playing the host, and then proposed a toast. “To old friends,” he said, to Picard.

“Old friends,” Picard echoed.

“How long has it been, Jean-Luc?” Gruzinov asked. “About twenty years since we served on the Antares?”

“A bit more than that, I think,” Picard replied, as they all sat around the table.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Gruzinov said, approvingly. “I’ve seen your record. You’ve come a long way from the hell-raising plebe you were back at the Academy.”

“Yes, well, in no small measure, you bear some of the credit for that,” Picard replied.

“It’s kind of you to say so,” said Gruzinov, “but you pulled yourself up by your own bootstraps. You’ve come far, and you will go further still, I have no doubt of that. Me, I’m just an old warhorse getting ready to be put out to pasture.”

“Surely not,” Picard said, with a frown. “We are not that far apart in age!”

“Perhaps not, but I have no illusions about my prospects for further advancement, Jean-Luc,” Gruzinov said. “I have had a good career, but hardly a distinguished one. I was passed over for promotion several times. If I had waited to receive command of my own ship, I might be waiting still. This opportunity arose, and I leaped at the chance. I have never regretted it for a moment. I’ve put in enough years to be eligible for retirement, and I have already picked out some land down on Artemis VI. A few months from now, I will take my pension, build myself a small home, get married, and settle down to a quiet life devoted to fishing and raising children. I’ve had a good run and I’m ready for a change.” He shook his head. “I have no complaints.”

“Well, I’m pleased to hear that,” said Picard.

“However, I want to leave things in good order for my successor,” said Gruzinov, “and right now, I’ve got something of a problem on my hands. And it’s a problem I am not really equipped to handle on my own.”

“I must confess that I was anxious to know why we were dispatched here,” said Picard. “Our orders were curiously unspecific.”

“Well, that is partly my fault,” Gruzinov admitted. “I informed Starfleet that I thought it best, under the circumstances, that this mission be kept low profile, and they agreed.”

“Our orders said nothing about this being a classified mission,” said Riker, with a frown. He knew from experience that Starfleet was usually quite specific about such things.

“No, not really classified, Commander Riker,” Gruzinov replied, “merely . . . how shall I put it?”

“Low profile?” said Riker, repeating Gruzinov’s own term for it.

“Perhaps I had best explain,” Gruzinov said. “Are you familiar with the background of Federation involvement in this sector?”

“Reasonably so,” said Riker, thankful for the briefing Data had given him.

“Good,” said Gruzinov. “That will save some time, then. You see, what we have here is a somewhat sensitive political situation that is being exacerbated by a problem I am, unfortunately, not really capable of dealing with, given our limited resources. But perhaps I should back up a bit, so that you will better understand the context of the situation.”

He touched a button set into the tabletop and a section of the bulkhead slid aside to reveal a viewscreen. “Computer,” said Gruzinov, “run Enterprise Briefing Program One, visual display mode only,” he said.

A moment later, an image of an old K’tralli male appeared upon the screen. His hair was white, and down to his shoulders. Despite his obviously advanced age, he had a forceful look about him, Riker thought.

“Hold it there, computer,” Gruzinov said. “This is General H’druhn, the hero of the K’tralli revolution and, for the past fifty-some-odd years, military overlord of the K’tralli Empire. He’s a tough old bird, but he’s getting on, and recently he has turned the reins of power over to his son, J’drahn. Computer, next visual.”

The image of H’druhn was replaced by that of a much younger man, but the family resemblance was immediately apparent. J’drahn looked every inch his father’s son, thought Riker. Proud and forceful-looking, but with a more arrogant set to his sharply defined features. Like his father, he wore his dark hair long, down to his shoulders, and he wore a military uniform festooned with decorations.

“J’drahn is the current overlord of the K’trall,” Gruzinov said. “Since being appointed to his father’s post, he’s moved quickly and decisively to consolidate his power. And ever since, he’s been something of a thorn in my side. His father was tough, but fair, and he was someone I could work with. But now J’drahn is the one who wields the power, and he is as unscruplous as he is ambitious. On the surface, he makes all the right diplomatic noises, but though he keeps promising more democratic reforms, they seem very slow in coming. That is, of course, strictly none of our business. The K’trall are entitled to run their own government any way they choose, but J’drahn is an unpredictable maverick who looks to his own self-interest first and, frankly, I’m no longer certain where he stands.”

“In regards to what?” Picard asked.

“I was coming to that,” Gruzinov replied. “Despite the fact that J’drahn postures as a loyal and devoted member of the Federation, there have been recent rumors of secret contacts with the Romulans.”

“The Romulans!” said Riker.

“We are not far from the Neutral Zone here, Commander,” said Gruzinov. “It would be a relatively simple matter for them to cross over beyond the range of our scanners, and it is impossible for us to police the entire sector. That is, after all, not within the scope of our mission. The K’trall have that responsibility. Our job is merely to administer the colony on Artemis VI, maintain relations with the K’tralli government on their homeworld of N’trahn, and administer Federation shipping in this sector. Which brings me to that problem I mentioned earlier.

“I have reason to believe,” he continued, “that J’drahn, or at least one of his military governors, has been providing sub-rosa support for freebooters who have been preying upon merchant shipping in this sector. If J’drahn is not directly involved himself, then at the very least he looks the other way. Officially, he condemns the freebooters, and he’s promised us his full support in dealing with the problem, but I haven’t noticed that he’s done very much to stop them. I have managed to put a dent in some of the piracy with the two light cruisers I have at my disposal here, but there is one freebooter in particular who presents a problem that has gotten completely out of hand.”

At that moment, the door to the briefing room opened and Riker turned to see a young, attractive, dark-haired woman enter. She had a severe, no-nonsense look about her, but Riker still found it difficult not to stare.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” said Gruzinov. He turned to the others. “Allow me to present Lieutenant Angela Dorn, my senior base security officer.” He quickly introduced the others to Lieutenant Dorn. “Please sit down, Lieutenant,” he said. “I was just getting to the main point of the briefing.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Lieutenant Dorn, taking her seat.

“Computer, next visual,” said Gruzinov. The image of an old Federation starship came on the screen. “This is the problem I was referring to earlier.”

“But that’s a Constitution-class starship,” said Riker, with a frown.

“Correct, Commander,” said Gruzinov. “At one time, this was a Starfleet vessel, though I have no idea which one. I realize the quality of the image is poor, but if you look closely, you may notice that the ship now bears no markings.”

“A decommissioned vessel?” asked Picard.

“Yes,” Gruzinov replied, nodding. “It is one of the old, outmoded ships that were stripped of their warp drives and all military ordnance and sold off as surplus many years ago. Before Starfleet discontinued their policy of disposing of their old ships in this manner, a number of them were sold and privately refitted as impulse-powered merchant vessels. This one, on the other hand, is considerably more interesting. It is called the Glory, and it belongs to Captain Blaze, a notorious pirate who is part human and part K’trall. And he has been using it to wreak havoc with Federation merchant shipping in this sector. He fancies himself something of a modern swashbuckler, right down to the flamboyant, piratical-style outfits he affects along with his crew.”

“And this is why you’ve sent for us?” Picard asked, with some surprise.

“Wait,” Gruzinov said. “There’s more. Lieutenant Dorn has been assembling a file on Captain Blaze. Lieutenant?”

“Thank you, sir,” Lieutenant Dorn said, her tone clipped and businesslike. She turned to Picard and his officers. “Until fairly recently, Captain Blaze has been something of an engima to us. However, in the last few weeks, we have managed to make some progress with our investigation. Regrettably, we have no image of Captain Blaze on file, but we’ve managed to discover that his real name is Diego DeBlazio, and he was born on Artemis VI approximately thirty years ago. Computer, next visual.”

Riker saw the images of two people appear on the screen, a human male and a K’tralli female.

“His parents were Dominic DeBlazio, a retired Federation diplomat who was one of the original colonists on Artemis VI, and his wife, M’tala, a woman from a prominent K’tralli family,” Lieutenant Dorn explained. “They are now both dead. Blaze, as he is known, grew up and was educated on the K’tralli homeworld of N’trahn, so that records regarding him are sketchy. However, we know that he had access to Federation tutors in his childhood on Artemis VI and, more notably, he has served apprenticeships in both the K’tralli fleet and aboard several Federation merchant vessels. He may not have gone to Starfleet Academy, but he knows how to handle a ship. His privateering exploits have become legendary in this sector.”

“One moment, please, Lieutenant,” Picard said, turning to Gruzinov. “Ivan, I must admit to being a bit puzzled. Am I to understand that this small-time, local freebooter was the sole reason for our being summoned here?”

“Blaze is not someone to be taken lightly, Jean-Luc,” Gruzinov replied. “I have been completely helpless to do anything about him.”

“But you said that you have two light cruisers,” said Picard, with a frown. “Surely, they should be more than capable of dealing with a stripped-down and dilapidated Constitution-class ship powered by nothing more than impulse engines.”

“If that were, indeed, the case, they would be,” said Gruzinov. “But Blaze is a highly skilled ship’s captain, Jean-Luc, and what’s more, the Glory is no ordinary ship. It may not look like much, but Blaze has had it completely overhauled and fully refitted with modern ordnance. What’s more, he’s had it equipped with a cloaking device.”

“A cloaking device!” said Riker, with surprise. “Where and how could a small-time freebooter obtain a cloaking device? And where would he get the knowledge to fit it properly? Are you sure this information is accurate, sir?”

“We have numerous eyewitness reports, including those from the officers of my own cruisers,” said Gruzinov. “Somehow, Blaze has not only managed to obtain a cloaking device, but he has found a way to make it operative on his ship. Admittedly no easy task, since Federation vessels were never designed to be fitted with cloaking devices, and it would violate the Treaty of Algeron. It can be done, however, if you’ve got a crack engineering team.”

“The obvious implication is that he’s in league with the Romulans,” Lieutenant Dorn added. “Federation merchant vessels are easy prey for the Glory, and our cruisers are simply no match for it. Blaze attacks, then either cloaks his ship and slips away, or simply outpowers them and escapes.”

“Outpowers them?” said Riker, with astonishment. He didn’t see how that could be possible for a decommissioned, stripped-down surplus ship.

“That’s right, Commander,” said Gruzinov. “I don’t know what he’s got in his engine nacelles, but the Glory is capable of considerably more than impulse power. One of our cruisers has already been seriously damaged in an encounter with him and is still undergoing repairs. That leaves me with only one small ship to cover the entire sector and protect both the starbase and the colony on Artemis VI. Obviously, I don’t dare send my one remaining cruiser out on patrol and leave both the starbase and the colony vulnerable to attack. That’s why we’re trying to keep a low profile on this mission. I don’t want Blaze or any of the other freebooters in this sector to know just how vulnerable we have become. And Starfteet is particularly anxious to have him dealt with.”

“In other words, we’re supposed to take him into custody if we can, or else blow him out of the sky?” asked Riker, tensely.

“Essentially, yes,” Gruzinov replied.

“Ivan . . .” Picard said, somewhat hesitantly. “Forgive me, but you realize this is all highly irregular. We have received no such specific orders regarding this mission. I am afraid that I shall require confirmation.”

Gruzinov nodded. “Perfectly understandable,” he said. “And there is no need to apologize. I would do exactly the same thing in your position. I will give you access to my communication logs with Starfleet Headquarters, and you will, of course, be free to confirm them with Starfleet yourself.”

“Has this so-called Captain Blaze confined his activities primarily to this sector?” asked Riker.

“So far,” Gruzinov replied.

“Then that would suggest he must have a base of operations somewhere nearby,” Riker said.

Gruzinov nodded. “Yes, Commander, I agree,” he said. “What’s more, we even have a good idea where it is. We believe that Blaze has his base on D’rahl, one of the four K’tralli colony worlds. Unfortunately, there’s not much we can do about that.”

“Why not?” Riker asked, with a puzzled frown.

“Each of the four K’tralli colony worlds is under the administration of a colonial military governor,’’ Gruzinov said, “all of whom are answerable directly to Overlord J’drahn. The governor of D’rahl is a high-handed and dissolute character named T’grayn, who gives only lip service to the idea of cooperating with the Federation. He claims to have been conducting an investigation, but so far, it has yielded nothing. I have tried launching my own investigation on D’rahl, which I have the authority to do under the Federation treaty, but our resources here are limited and our people have received little in the way of cooperation from local authorities.”

“You suspect that Blaze has paid them off?” asked Troi.

“Either that, Counselor, or else T’grayn is actively his partner,” said Gruzinov, with a wry grimace. “Personally, I think J’drahn is supporting T’grayn because he’s probably receiving kickbacks from the operation. It would amount to a considerable profit. Aside from which, this situation is destabilizing Federation influence in this sector. And who else but the Romulans would stand to gain from that? It seems highly unlikely that Blaze simply happened to stumble onto his cloaking device in some salvage yard.”

“A privateer operating on letters of marque from the Romulans,” said Riker. He gave a small snort. “That’s got to be a first.”

“And unless he’s stopped, he won’t be the last,” Gruzinov said. “You can see why I’ve had to send for help. One freebooter like Blaze is bad enough. Imagine what a whole fleet of them could do.”

Picard nodded. “Yes, that would be a disturbing development,” he said. “I shall need to confer with my officers, Ivan, and with Starfleet Headquarters before I decide upon a plan of action.”

“Of course,” Gruzinov said. “I can have quarters prepared for you in the meantime, if you wish.”

“No need,” Picard replied. “We shall stay aboard the Enterprise. It would help expedite matters.”

“As you wish,” Gruzinov said. “I will assign Lieutenant Dorn to you for the duration. She has my complete confidence, and can provide you with anything you may require.”

“Thank you,” said Picard. “How soon can you come aboard, Lieutenant?”

“I can have my kit packed in fifteen minutes, sir,” she said.

“An hour will be sufficient,” Picard replied. “And I would like all the information you have available on this Captain Blaze.”

“I already have it here, sir,” said Lieutenant Dorn, holding up an isolinear chip.

“Excellent,” said Picard. “Mr. Riker?”

Riker took the chip from her.

“I’d like copies of those communiqués as soon as possible,” Picard said, to Gruzinov. “In the meantime, I will get in touch with Starfleet and confirm our mission status. I must admit, however, that I have some reservations about this.”

Gruzinov nodded. “I know what you mean, Jean-Luc,” he said, sympathetically. “None of us joined Starfleet to stalk ships and destroy them. And believe me, no one wants to see Blaze taken alive more than I do. But take it from me, old friend, do not underestimate him. The Glory may be an old ship, but she’s as dangerous as any Romulan battle cruiser.”

“The Enterprise has dealt with Romulan Warbirds before, sir,” said Worf, confidently.

Gruzinov smiled. “Spoken like a true Klingon, Mr. Worf,” he said, “and a proud and loyal weapons officer. However, if I may presume to advise you, treat the Glory exactly as would a Romulan Warbird. Do not be too confident when it comes to Captain Blaze, or you may be very unpleasantly surprised.”

A short while later, back aboard the Enterprise, Riker and Picard met in the briefing room with the senior officers. In addition to those who had met with Gruzinov, joining them were Chief Engineer La Forge and Dr. Crusher. Picard quickly brought them up to date.

“A cloaking device?” said Geordi. As Riker had expected, he looked very skeptical. “On a privately refitted Constitution-class ship? That would require some pretty sophisticated engineering modifications, sir.” La Forge frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I just don’t see how an independent operator out here on the frontier could have come by the expertise to make it work.” He paused. “Unless . . .”

“Unless what?” Picard prompted him.

La Forge grimaced. “Well . . . it just doesn’t seem very likely, sir.”

“Mr. La Forge, I asked for speculation,” said Picard.

La Forge took a deep breath. “Well, Captain, the only explanations I can think of seem pretty farfetched. I suppose it’s possible he could have found a first-class engineer to modify the Federation drives for him, but why would anyone with that kind of expertise waste his time working for an independent freebooter? If someone found a way to fit Romulan drives to a Federation vessel, then it would be a fairly routine procedure to fit a cloaking device, but then fitting the drives would be a massive undertaking. From what we know of Romulan technology, the designs just aren’t compatible. It would require complete systems reengineering. The modifications something like that would entail would be very extensive and, well, it just wouldn’t be very cost effective. You might as well design a brand-new ship. But converting an old, outmoded vessel like a Constitution-class starship to Romulan drives?” He shrugged and shook his head. “What would be the point?”

“I must concur with Geordi’s analysis, Captain,” Data said. “It would certainly seem far simpler for the Romulans to give Captain Blaze one of their own vessels rather than embark on such a questionable procedure.”

Exactly, Riker thought, as another possibility suddenly occurred to him. For the moment, he decided to keep it to himself.

“Except that a Romulan vessel would be instantly identifiable,” said Picard. “And under the circumstances, the Romulans would hardly wish to advertise their involvement in such a venture.”

“You think the Romulans may be using Blaze and his ship in some sort of covert operation, Captain?” Troi asked.

Picard shook his head. “No, I don’t believe the Romulans would ever trust an outsider to conduct one of their clandestine military operations,” he replied. “However, they might simply have given him the means to disrupt Federation merchant shipping in this sector and then turned him loose to function on his own.”

“That would be the classic definition of a privateer,” said Riker.

“Excuse me, Commander,” Data said, “but I have heard this term used several times now, and I am a bit confused. You seem to use the terms ‘pirate’ and ‘privateer’ interchangeably. However, I was under the impression that there was a significant difference between the two.”

“Technically speaking, there is, Data,” Riker replied. “A pirate is someone who attacks ships and plunders them. The term ‘privateer’ was originally used to describe privately owned vessels that sailed under special letters of marque during wartime. In effect, they were licensed by their governments to attack the ships of the enemy, or raid their merchant shipping with an aim to disrupting their war effort.”

“I see,” said Data. “So then, a ‘privateer’ would be, in effect, a pirate operating with the sanction of a government during wartime. But then, we are not at war with the Romulans.”

“No, Mr. Data, we are not,” Picard said. “And that is precisely why the Romulans—if they are, indeed, the ones who are behind this—wish to avoid the appearance of being involved directly. I am beginning to realize that this situation may be a great deal more serious than it first appeared. This Captain Blaze may be only a pawn in a much larger game. But apparently a very meddlesome pawn, just the same. Ivan Gruzinov is not the sort of man to ask for help unless he really needs it. And if Overlord J’drahn has been conducting secret dealings with the Romulans, then he has violated his father’s treaty with the Federation, and that could have very serious repercussions.”

“It sounds as if we have two separate problems here,” said Dr. Crusher. “One is the problem of the Glory, attacking and disrupting Federation shipping, and the other is the problem of Overlord J’drahn, and whether or not he’s been in contact with the Romulans in violation of Federation accords. One is purely an enforcement problem, but the other is a sensitive political issue that could have far-reaching consequences.”

“And in both cases,” said Troi, “the situation poses a danger to the starbase and the Federation colony on Artemis VI.”

“And to continuing membership in the Federation for the K’trall,” added Riker, agreeing with their analysis. “I can see why Captain Gruzinov had to send for help. He’s in way over his head.”

“The question is, how best to proceed,” Picard said. “The K’trall may be full members of the Federation, but their local autonomy must still be respected. Pursuing freebooters in space is clearly within our purview. The treaty General H’druhn signed with the Federation grants us the authority to conduct operations in K’tralli space.”

“It’s officially Federation space,” Riker pointed out.

“Precisely, Number One,” replied Picard. “However, it is also within our authority, according to the strict sense of both K’tralli and Federation law, to participate in local law-enforcement efforts in Federation territory to apprehend any criminals endangering the starbase, Federation shipping, or the colony on Artemis VI.”

“Captain Blaze certainly seems to fit those criteria,” said Dr. Crusher.

“But we are still faced with something of a gray area,” Picard replied. “Strictly speaking, in order to initiate any operations in K’tralli territory, we need the approval of the local government.”

“Maybe we already have it,” Riker said. “Didn’t Captain Gruzinov say that Overlord J’drahn’s official position has been to condemn the freebooters and promise the Federation full support in bringing them to justice? That sounds like approval to me.”

“Perhaps,” Picard said. “Nevertheless, I feel it is necessary for the sake of diplomacy to meet with Overlord J’drahn and receive his official approval directly.”

“And what if he withholds it?” Dr. Crusher asked.

“Well, that would place him in a somewhat awkward position,” said Picard, “since he has already promised Captain Gruzinov his full support. Mr. Worf, I would like you to contact Captain Gruzinov as soon as we dismiss this meeting and request him to arrange an audience with Overlord J’drahn. We will do this through the proper diplomatic channels.”

“Aye, Captain,” Worf said.

“And Counselor Troi, I would like you to confer with Lieutenant Dorn as soon as she comes aboard,” Picard continued. “See to it that she’s properly settled in and familiarized with ship’s routine.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Troi.

“Mr. La Forge, I’d like you to examine Lieutenant Dorn’s file carefully and use computer enhancement on the image of that ship. I realize that it’s not a lot to work with, but see what you can learn from it.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” Geordi said.

Picard nodded. “Good. Then if there are no questions, we shall adjourn for the present, until we receive word concerning the meeting with Overlord J’drahn. Dismissed.”

Riker lingered while the others filed out. “Sir,” he said, when he and Picard were alone, “I know Captain Gruzinov is your friend, but in view of what we’ve been told, how can we be sure the information we’ve been given is accurate?”

“Ivan Gruzinov is an experienced Starfleet officer,” replied Picard. “He’s not an alarmist, and he’s never been the sort to leap to conclusions.”

Riker took a deep breath. Now was the time to bring up the idea that had occurred to him earlier. “In that case, sir, it occurs to me that it’s just possible we haven’t been told everything.”

“What are you getting at, William?” Picard asked, with a frown.

“If the Glory is everything Captain Gruzinov says she is, then there are only two possible explanations that make any sense to me. Either the Romulans performed the modifications for him on the existing drives, or else the Glory is a camouflaged Romulan light cruiser, disguised with an artificial hull. And if that’s the case, then it’s a virtual certainty that she has a Romulan crew. I just can’t believe the Romulans would turn over one of their ships to a privateer. Especially one who wasn’t Romulan himself. And if what we’re dealing with is a disguised Romulan ship, manned by a Romulan crew, then it’s an act of war.”

“And you think Starfleet isn’t anxious to acknowledge that,” Picard said.

“This wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened,” Riker said. “There are numerous incidents throughout history of battles being fought with no war being declared, battles that no one’s ever heard about, officially. One side decides to test the waters and push a little. The other side pushes back. Somebody wins, somebody loses. But if it happens in an isolated area, no one ever hears about it.”

Picard nodded. “And you suspect that’s what we may be facing here?”

“I think it’s very possible, sir,” said Riker. “The Romulans take one of their light cruisers and disguise it as an outmoded Federation ship that had been sold as surplus. They manufacture the fiction of some freelance pirate and use it as a cover to raid Federation shipping. Their light cruisers can out-maneuver ours, plus they’ve got cloaking capability, which Federation vessels are forbidden to use. About the only thing that could stop them would be a Galaxy-class starship, and Romulans are not in the habit of surrendering. If there’s a face-off and they manage to escape, then they’ve got plausible deniability. And if the Glory is destroyed in action, then they can claim it wasn’t a Romulan ship, but merely an old, decommissioned Federation vessel belonging to some local pirate. So neither Starfleet nor the Romulans acknowledge that there’s been any act of war. But it happened, just the same.”

Picard pursed his lips, thoughtfully. “And you think that’s why this mission is being kept low profile, as Gruzinov said, to avoid openly acknowledging that possibility and creating an incident that might lead to war.”

“I think the Romulans may have crossed over the line and it’s going to be our job to slap them down,” said Riker. “And at the same time, give an object lesson to Overlord J’drahn, without rubbing his face in it. A threat to Federation shipping is eliminated and J’drahn gets put back in his place. All very unofficially, of course.”

Picard nodded. “Yes, I had considered that possibility myself,” he said. “However, I find it hard to believe that Ivan Gruzinov wouldn’t take me into his confidence. And I’m sure Deanna would have sensed it if he was keeping something from me.”

“It’s quite possible he doesn’t know,” said Riker. “The Romulans are very thorough. If they’ve manufactured Blaze’s cover convincingly enough, Captain Gruzinov could have bought it. Without taking anything away from him, sir, he has been in command of a starbase for almost twenty years. I’m sure he’s a highly capable officer, but he’s still spent all that time behind a desk.”

“All this is still only supposition, William,” Picard said.

“That’s true, sir,” Riker readily agreed. “But it all fits. And if the Glory is really a covert Romulan vessel, then we’re looking at a very sticky situation. It means there’s little chance we’ll be able to take the ship and its crew alive. And Starfleet may not thank us if we do, because then they’d have no choice but to openly acknowledge Romulan involvement.”

“And that would mean war,” Picard said, grimly. Riker merely nodded. No further elaboration was necessary.

Picard tightened his lips into a grimace. “I’m not going to be the one to start a war with the Romulan Empire,” he said. “Perhaps the mere fact of our presence here will be enough to deter them.”

“And if it’s not?” asked Riker, watching the captain anxiously.

Picard met his gaze. “Then our options will depend very much on what they do,” he replied. “And on how Overlord J’drahn reacts to our arrival.”