Chapter Two

WHILE LA FORGE DIRECTED the repairs on the damage to the Enterprise in the main docking bay of Starbase 37, Picard, Riker, Troi, and Worf met with Gruzinov in the lounge aboard the starbase.

“Not exactly a very good beginning, is it?” Riker said wryly, as he sipped his coffee.

“On the contrary, Commander,” said Gruzinov. “I’d say it was an excellent beginning.”

“Outmaneuvered by some small-time, arrogant, frontier freebooter?” said Riker, with disgust. “Pardon me, but I fail to see what’s so excellent about it, sir.”

“Then allow me to spell it out for you, Commander,” Gruzinov replied. “You have managed to save the Wyoming’s cargo, the combined insured value of which, according to the manifest, was considerably greater than that of the vessel itself. And you also scored a direct hit on Blaze’s ship, which should put him out of commission for a while. I very much doubt that he has access to repair facilities as complete as we have here. He may have considerable difficulties effecting his repairs, while with our maintenance crews assisting Mr. La Forge, the Enterprise should be back at a hundred percent in less than forty-eight hours. Frankly, I never expected things to go this well so soon.”

“I don’t mean to put a damper on your optimism, sir,” said Riker, “but for someone who’s been put out of commission, Blaze seemed to take it pretty well.” He shook his head. “I suspect we may not have hurt him as badly as you think.”

“In any case, at least we have managed to learn one thing for certain,” Picard said. “The Glory is not a disguised Romulan vessel, but a genuine, Constitution-class starship that has been refitted with much of its original equipment. We were fired upon by phasers, not Romulan disruptors.”

“I had wondered what you meant when you asked your chief engineer about an artificial hull,” Gruzinov said. “I could have told you the Glory was not a disguised Romulan ship, Jean-Luc. In effect, I did, when I told you what she was.”

“It was not that I doubted your word, Ivan,” Picard said, “but I had to consider the possibility of your being taken in by a clever deception.”

“I see,” Gruzinov said, flatly. “Yes, well, I am an administrative officer, after all. It has been a long time since I have seen active duty.”

“Ivan,” Picard said, placatingly, “I was by no means implying—”

“No, no, I quite understand, Jean-Luc,” Gruzinov said. “Explanations are unnecessary.”

“Meaning no disrespect, sir,” Riker said, quickly, “but it was I who made the suggestion that the Glory might be a disguised Romulan vessel. In fact, from what you’d told us, I was absolutely convinced of it.”

“And you must admit that it was a logical assumption,” said Picard, “one I simply could not dismiss out of hand.”

Gruzinov nodded. “Yes, of course. Forgive me, I did not mean to be overly sensitive. The truth is, when the Glory first appeared, I suspected the same thing. However, the reports from the merchant vessels Blaze had plundered, and the testimony of my own cruiser officers who had encountered him, convinced me otherwise.”

“There is also the fact of Blaze’s mixed crew to consider,” Picard said. “It is conceivable that the Romulans might have employed a few K’trall to aid them in their deception, but they would never employ humans, much less Orions or Capellans. I think there is no question but that Blaze is exactly what he appears to be. The question is, where did he get his ship, and how and where was it refitted?”

“He could have picked up most of his equipment on the black market,” said Gruzinov, with a shrug.

“Even phaser banks?” said Worf, frowning.

“You would be surprised at what’s available out there, Mr. Worf,” Gruzinov said. “Especially here on the frontier, where enforcement, thanks to J’drahn, is rather lax. If you’ve got enough money, you could probably get your hands on the components to outfit just about anything, short of a Galaxy-class starship. Unfortunately, even Starfleet is not immune to corruption. Supplies and ordnance do disappear from warehouses every now and then.”

“Which is precisely why we need to have those questions answered,” said Picard. “If someone is peddling black-market Starfleet ordnance in this sector, we must find out who it is and shut the operation down. However, Blaze did not get his cloaking device on the black market.”

“Nor his engines,” Riker added. “Unless he’s somehow figured out a way to adapt a cloaking device to a Federation engine design, which I just don’t buy. He’s got to have Romulan drives powering his ship.”

“That does seem to be the only logical explanation,” said Picard, with a frown, “but I shouldn’t think they’d fit the existing design. And from what we saw, the Glory did not have any obvious structural modifications.”

“Then he must have figured out a way to make them fit,” insisted Riker. “There’s just no way I’m going to believe some frontier freebooter has solved a technical problem that’s baffled Starfleet’s finest engineers.”

“Well, according to Lieutenant Dorn’s file, Blaze does not have an engineering background,” said Gruzinov. “Of course, that does not preclude his having someone on his crew who does.”

“Someone capable of that level of engineering skill could write his own ticket,” Riker said. “Why would somebody like that sign on with a small-time freebooter like Blaze?” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t make any sense, sir.”

“Perhaps it was some brilliant, former Starfleet engineer who got in trouble and was cashiered from the service,” suggested Gruzinov.

Riker shook his head. “No, sir, that just doesn’t wash. If he was that good, cashiered or not, he’d be snapped up by the private sector in a heartbeat. And for a lot more money than he could make with Blaze.”

“Which brings us right back to the Romulans,” Picard said.

“Exactly,” Riker concurred. “No matter how you look at it, they’ve got to be involved. Who would be more qualified to adapt a Romulan engine design than Romulan engineers?”

Gruzinov sighed heavily. “I’m afraid that’s a question I cannot answer, Commander. Frankly, I was hoping that you might be able to come up with some other explanation.”

Riker nodded. “I understand, sir,” he said. “This one is politically very inconvenient. But unfortunately, it’s the only one that fits the facts.”

“Is it possible that J’drahn is not directly involved in this?” Picard asked.

Gruzinov shook his head. “I suppose anything is possible,” he replied, with a shrug. “But I don’t believe it for a moment.”

“Overlord J’drahn was hiding something, Captain,” Troi said. “I am convinced of it. Despite what he said, he was not pleased to learn of our arrival. His attitude was very guarded, and I sensed considerable apprehension on his part.”

“Unfortunately, none of this constitutes proof of his involvement,” Picard said.

“No, Jean-Luc, that is not unfortunate,” Gruzinov replied. “If we were to prove J’drahn’s involvement, then there would be no way the Federation Council could dismiss it. The treaty would be irrevocably broken and the K’tralli Empire would have to be expelled from the Federation. In that event, J’drahn would turn to the Romulans. He’d simply have no other choice. Without Federation support and trade, the economy of the K’tralli Empire would collapse. J’drahn has been bleeding his own treasury dry. And to prevent another revolution that would depose him, he would require the support of the Romulans. We all know what the price of that support would be. J’drahn would become their puppet, and the Romulans would have legal holdings on our side of the Neutral Zone.”

“But the treaty of the Neutral Zone specifically marks the boundaries between the Romulan Empire and the Federation,” Worf said. “How could the Romulans extend their influence beyond the Neutral Zone without violating the treaty?”

“Very simply, Mr. Worf,” Gruzinov replied. “If the relations with the Federation became strained —and proof of J’drahn’s involvement with the Romulans would do that—then J’drahn could argue that he was no longer bound by the treaty his father had agreed to and he would be free, according to his rights, to ally himself with anyone he chose. If he happened to choose the Romulans— and he would have no other choice—then the Federation would be forced to recognize that alliance. The effect of that would be a de facto extension of the Neutral Zone to encompass the K’tralli sector. By default, the Romulans would gain territory that is currently under Federation control, and there would be absolutely nothing we could do about it. It would all be perfectly legal.”

“In other words, Captain, you’re saying we have to stop Blaze, without implicating J’drahn,” said Troi, “even if he’s guilty?”

“Even if he’s guilty,” said Gruzinov.

“Well, that’s just great,” said Riker, and grimaced. “He breaks the treaty by allowing the Romulans to outfit freebooters so they can disrupt our shipping, gets a cut of the profits, thumbs his nose at us, and we’re just supposed to look the other way?”

“Believe me, Commander, I don’t like it any better than you do,” said Gruzinov. “But the alternative is even worse.”

“And J’drahn must realize that, of course,” Picard said. He nodded. “I think I’m beginning to understand his reasoning. He allows the Romulans to use Blaze to disrupt Federation shipping, and in return he profits from it, while at the same time counting on the Federation to keep the Romulans from making any open incursions into K’tralli territory. He’s depending on the strategic value of this sector to keep the Federation from officially recognizing his complicity and expelling him.”

“So he’s burning his candle at both ends,” said Riker.

“And very cleverly, too,” Picard said. “The trouble is, stopping Blaze would only solve part of the problem. Even if we took the Glory out of action, J’drahn could find himself another free-booter and equip him the same way with covert assistance from the Romulans. So long as we are here, the Romulans may not risk attempting to enter this sector by stealth, but we cannot remain stationed here indefinitely. And J’drahn knows that perfectly well.”

“Then we’re just going to have to do something about J’drahn,” said Riker.

“I don’t see how we can,” said Troi. “Any attempt to depose J’drahn would violate the Prime Directive.”

“Perhaps not,” Picard said. He turned to Gruzinov. “You said the former overlord, General H’druhn, was friendly with the Federation, someone you could work with. If we could convince him that his son was acting against K’tralli interests, then perhaps he could be persuaded to remove J’drahn from power.”

“I have already thought of that, Jean-Luc,” Gruzinov said. “But General H’druhn is an old man and J’drahn is his only son. I tried having a meeting with him once before, and it went very badly. He simply will not listen to any accusations against J’drahn. There was no way I could convince him. I only succeeded in alienating him and J’drahn warned me that if I made any further attempts to see his father, he would issue an official protest to Starfleet and the Federation Council, accusing me of interference.”

“Well, I guess that’s that,” said Riker.

“Not necessarily, Number One,” Picard replied. “There is nothing to prevent me, as captain of a Federation starship visiting this sector, from paying a formal diplomatic call of courtesy on the hero of the K’tralli revolution and the Empire’s leading citizen.”

“That’s true enough,” Gruzinov said. “And the general will certainly receive you under those circumstances. However, the moment you bring up the subject of J’drahn, the audience is liable to come to an abrupt end, just as it did with me. And then J’drahn will issue a formal protest.”

“No, I do not believe he will,” Picard replied. “I think he was bluffing when he made that threat. Keep in mind that under the terms of such a formal protest, we would have the opportunity to state our case officially, and that is something J’drahn would undoubtedly wish to avoid. If I were to proceed slowly and carefully, seeking out some common ground with the general and gaining his confidence, then perhaps some progress could be made. In any case, I think it’s worth a try.”

Gruzinov nodded. “If you’re right about J’drahn’s threat of a protest being a bluff, then we’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Perhaps it would be best, considering your earlier attempt, if you were officially kept out of it,” Picard said.

“No, if this should backfire on us, I won’t let you take the blame alone,” Gruzinov said. “That isn’t how I operate, Jean-Luc. Especially with an old friend.”

Picard smiled. “I appreciate that,” he said. “In the meantime, I would like to proceed on another front. J’drahn is only one part of the problem. There is still Blaze, and whoever is supplying him.”

“That would undoubtedly be T’grayn,” Gruzinov said.

“The colonial governor of the planet known as D’rahl?” Picard asked.

Gruzinov nodded. “Handpicked by J’drahn,” he said. “The original governors of N’trahn’s four colony planets were all senior officers in General H’druhn’s revolutionary council. Two of them are now dead, and they have been replaced by bureaucrats loyal to J’drahn. One, Governor M’dran of S’trayn, is a feeble old man who is little more than a figurehead. He’s surrounded by J’drahn’s officials, who effectively run the administration for him. The one remaining governor who was a part of H’druhn’s original council was Colonel Z’gral, and he was the only one who tried to stand up to J’drahn. But he is no longer in office.”

“What happened to him?” Riker asked.

“J’drahn had him removed from office. If he could have gotten away with it, I’m sure he would have had him eliminated, because Z’gral was a very vocal critic of J’drahn’s administration. However, Colonel Z’gral is one of the heroes of the revolution, and he has immense popularity, second only to General H’druhn. J’drahn was too smart to move against him openly. Instead, he had him retired with full honors, and a generous pension, as ‘a mark of deference to his age and loyal service to the Empire.’ Of course, it didn’t fool Z’gral for a moment, but there was nothing he could do about it. J’drahn decreed a national holiday in his honor, and he spared no expense in staging a great celebration, complete with parades and a state dinner and a formal decoration ceremony during which he presented Z’gral with a palatial home on the outskirts of K’trin, the capital city of D’rahl. And that’s where Z’gral lives to this day, surrounded by an ‘honor guard’ that reports his every move to J’drahn. It amounts to nothing more than a luxurious prison.”

“I see,” Picard said. “Would it be possible to visit him?”

“I doubt it,” said Gruzinov. “Z’gral does not receive any visitors. The word is he’s in poor health and doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

“As a hero of the revolution, and one of his fellow officers, Colonel Z’gral would surely have the ear of General H’druhn, would he not?” Picard asked.

“I’m sure he would, if he was ever allowed to see him,” said Gruzinov. “But J’drahn’s too smart for that. If you’re thinking of trying to get Z’gral to intercede with H’druhn on our behalf, I’m sure he wouldn’t be unwilling. But he’d never be allowed to leave K’trin. J’drahn has done everything in his power to keep him away from his father.”

“I think we should make a point of seeing him, just the same,” Picard said.

“What have you got in mind, Jean-Luc?” Gruzinov asked.

“The beginnings of a plan,” Picard replied. “But first I would like to confer with your intelligence officer, Lieutenant Dorn.”

 

The display panel in the bulkhead outside Holodeck 3 showed that a program was currently running. It said, PROGRAM ENGAGED: DATA— 1322-B. Lieutenant Dorn raised her eyebrows as she read the display. That was a surprising number of programs to be loaded under the designation of one crew member. Lieutenant Commander Data was an android, yet he clearly used the holodecks as much as any of the Enterprise’s human crew members. She found that very curious. There was no privacy coding on the display, so she decided to go in and satisfy her curiosity.

She almost lost her footing as the deck suddenly pitched beneath her and the spray from a wave crashing against the bowsprit soaked her to the skin.

“Steersman, hard alee!”

“Aye-aye, sir!” came the shouted response from above and behind her, over the sound of the wind and explosions.

Explosions? Lieutenant Dorn looked out over the deck railing, across the rolling sea, and saw a tall, four-masted sailing vessel off the port bow. Smoke erupted from the ship as its cannons fired a broadside. As the ship she stood on turned, several of the projectiles fired by the other vessel struck close, sending gouts of water spouting up into the air and soaking her down again. She heard a chorus of laughter and jeers.

“She ‘asn’t got our range, Cap’n!” someone shouted.

“Bloody Spaniards never could shoot worth a damn, curse ‘em to Davey Jones’ locker!”

Lieutenant Dorn looked around her at the wood-planked deck and teak railings, at the racks of belaying pins and ropes leading up to the masts and rigging. Wide, square canvas sails luffed briefly as the ship turned, then filled with loud, whipcracking sounds as the wind struck them, propelling the ship forward.

The men around her on the deck were a coarse and surly-looking lot, bare-chested and tattooed, with gold rings in their ears and colorful bandannas covering their heads. Some were barefoot, in tattered breeches that came down to their calves; others wore tall, square-toed leather sea boots. They all wore cutlasses and daggers, and many had flintlock pistols tucked into cloth sashes at their waists.

“Steersman, steady as she goes!”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” That voice sounded familiar. She turned and looked up at the afterdeck and saw Data standing at a large, spoked wooden wheel, steering the ship. He was barefoot, and wearing brown breeches, a loose-fitting, balloon-sleeved white shirt that laced up at the neck, and a brown leather vest. There were two pistols and a cutlass tucked into a red sash at his waist, and he had a red bandanna tied around his head.

“We’re closin’ with ‘em, Cap’n!” one of the sailors cried.

“Man the guns!” a steely, resonant voice with an English accent cried.

And then she saw him. The captain stood, balanced on the crosspieces of the mainmast and holding on to the rigging, staring out at the ship they were pursuing. His blond hair was blowing in the wind, and his loose-fitting white shirt rippled in the breeze. He had on red-and-white striped breeches and his shirt was open at the neck, revealing a tanned, muscular chest. His classic Saxon features were strikingly handsome. He grinned, revealing flashing, perfect white teeth, took hold of a line, and swung down from the crosspieces, across the decks, and up to the afterdeck, where Data stood behind the wheel.

“Put your backs into it, lads!” he shouted. “We’ll show ‘em how it’s done!”

“Mr. Data!” Lieutenant Dorn shouted. “Mr. Data!”

The android noticed her for the first time and said, “Computer, hold!”

Everything suddenly came to a standstill. The men hauling the guns up froze, bent over, in the act. The ship stopped rolling and pitching. The wind was gone. The handsome, blond captain stood, immobile, with his arm held out to his crew and his teeth flashing in a dazzling grin.

“Forgive me, Lieutenant,” Data said, coming down the steps to meet her. “I did not see you come in.”

Lieutenant Dorn stood looking up at him, soaked to the skin, her hair plastered down against her face. She shook her head. “Mr. Data, what is all this?”

“It is a new program I have assembled, designed to simulate a pirate sailing vessel circa Earth’s Spanish Main in the early seventeen-hundreds,” Data replied, as he came down to the main deck.

“But . . . why?”

“I was attempting to understand something of the psychology of freebooters, or pirates, as they are otherwise known,” Data replied. “I was not due to relieve Commander La Forge in directing the repairs for another four hours, so I decided to take advantage of the opportunity to do some research.” He looked her over, up and down. “Forgive me, Lieutenant, but it seems I have inadvertently caused you to get wet.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “I can change into my spare uniform. But you certainly seem to go in for realism in your programs.”

“I wanted to capture the authenticity of the experience,” Data explained.

“Yes, but . . . this? Not that it isn’t fascinating, but why wind-driven sailing vessels in the seventeen-hundreds?”

“According to our historical data banks, the time period from 1692 to 1725 was considered the height of the age of piracy,” Data replied, “when freebooters such as Blackbeard, Calico Jack Rackam, Captain Kidd, and Henry Morgan plied the seas in sailing vessels such as the one I have re-created here. At no other time in Earth’s history, either before or since, has piracy been practiced to such an extent as it was during that brief period.”

“Which one was he?” asked Dorn, indicating the dashing, handsome blond captain.

“Actually, he is none of the ones I mentioned,” Data replied, “as our data banks do not contain any physical representations of those people. I have taken his likeness from that of an actor who once played the role of a fictional pirate in a cinematic production.”

Dorn raised her eyebrows appreciatively as she gazed at the frozen pirate captain. “He must have been a very handsome actor,” she said. “But I’m still not sure I understand how all this pertains to our current situation.”

“Perhaps it does not accurately reflect the conditions of our current mission,” Data said, “but our data banks contain little information concerning the lifestyles of modern freebooters. It is a rare phenomenon these days. However, a great deal had been written about piracy in this particular time period, and while historical conditions are subject to change, I have found that human psychology remains relatively consistent. I thought that by creating this program, I might gain some insight into the personality and motivations of Captain Blaze. Computer, cancel program.”

The images around them disappeared, replaced by the darkness of the holodeck, illuminated by its electronic gridwork.

“It’s an interesting idea,” Dorn said, as Data walked her to the door. “And did you? Learn anything, that is.”

“It would seem that greed was a significant motivating factor for these individuals,” Data replied, “but it would also appear that the element of risk played an important part, as well.”

Several crewmen glanced at them curiously as they walked down the corridor, Data dressed in his piratical costume and Lieutenant Dorn in her soaking wet uniform.

“I have never fully understood it,” Data continued as they walked, “but many humans seem to have a desire for what they call adventure, the threat of danger coupled with the challenge of the unknown, which seems to appeal to the human competitive instinct. Many sporting activities that humans engage in incorporate these elements, but then piracy would certainly not qualify as a sporting activity. It seems quite puzzling.”

“Why wouldn’t it qualify?” she asked.

Data cocked his head and frowned slightly, to indicate confusion. “Because it is a criminal activity,” he said. “That is not the same thing.”

“You might find it helpful to consult your programming on the subject of aberrant human psychology, Mr. Data,” Dorn replied, as they reached the turbolift and stepped inside. “Deck 6,” she said. “To certain types of so-called abnormal personalities, criminal activity often takes on the aspect of a competitive sport. The challenge is committing the crime and getting away with it, because it entails not only the risk—or adventure, if you will—involved in the commission of the crime itself, but competition with the authorities, who represent the laws of society. Such people see themselves as being above the law, or outside it.”

“I see,” said Data. “You are referring to the sociopathic personality.”

“That would be one example,” Dorn said, “but there are others, less extreme, such as those who are socially maladjusted and resentful, or who consider themselves somehow superior to most members of society.”

“You mean the megalomaniac personality,” said Data.

“Precisely,” Dorn replied.

“And in which category do you feel Captain Blaze belongs?”

The turbolift reached Deck 6 and they stepped out into the corridor.

“To the latter one, I should think,” Dorn said. “At least, based on what I’ve learned of him so far. His ego is certainly a large one.”

“I see,” said Data. “Then you believe his attack on the Enterprise was motivated by his competitive instinct, coupled with his belief in his own superiority?”

“That would be my guess,” she said, as they reached the door to her quarters.

“I should let you change,” said Data. “Perhaps we can continue this discussion at another time. I find it very enlightening.”

“So do I,” Dorn said, with a smile. “Why don’t you come in? We can talk some more while I change.”

“I would not wish to intrude upon your privacy,” said Data.

“You’re not intruding,” she replied. “Come on in.” As he came in behind her and the door closed, she smiled and chuckled. “After all, I think I can trust you, right?”

“To do what?” asked Data.

“To, um, behave like a gentleman,” she said, as she started to remove her wet uniform.

“Ah,” said Data. “If I understand correctly, you are making what is known as a veiled reference in a sexual context.”

Dorn tossed her uniform blouse on the bed and started to remove her undershirt. “Your programming covers that, does it?”

“I have extensive programmed knowledge of the mechanics of human sexual behavior,” Data said. “And I am designed to be fully functional in that regard.”

Dorn paused in the act of pulling off her undershirt. “You are?”

“Yes. Completely.”

“You mean . . . that is . . . have you ever actually . . . uh . . . you know.”

“Engaged in sexual activity? Yes, indeed,” said Data.

Lieutenant Dorn pulled her undershirt back down. “You have?”

“I found it very interesting,” said Data, “but as I am not capable of feelings, I believe that I did not extract the maximum benefit from the experience.”

“Oh,” Lieutenant Dorn said, somewhat a loss for words.

At that moment, there was a signal on Data’s communicator. “Picard to Data.”

“Data here, sir.”

“Have you seen Lieutenant Dorn, Mr. Data?”

“Yes, sir. I am presently with the lieutenant in her quarters. She is currently removing her uniform.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Picard.

Lieutenant Dorn covered her eyes with one hand and said, “Oh, boy.”

“Have I said something wrong?” asked Data, with concern.

“Lieutenant Dorn here, Captain,” she said, quickly. “I was with Commander Data on the holodeck and there was a slight mishap with some water. My uniform got soaked and I needed a dry change of clothing.”

“Ah. I see,” said Picard, sounding somewhat relieved. “Well, I would appreciate your presence in the starbase main briefing room as soon as you have changed, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll be right there, sir.”

“Very well. Picard out.”

She glanced at Data. “Perhaps it would be better if I changed in private, Mr. Data.”

“Certainly. As you wish.”

The door closed behind him. She sighed and shook her head, then quickly finished changing, dried her hair off, and hurried to the starbase briefing room.

 

The others were engaged in a discussion when she arrived, and she noticed that they were consulting maps and background files projected on the briefing room viewscreen.

“Ah, Lieutenant,” said Picard, when she came in, “good of you to come so soon. I trust your mishap on the holodeck was not serious?”

“No, sir. I was merely soaked.”

“What exactly happened?” asked Picard, curiously.

She quickly told them about Data’s pirate simulation program.

Picard smiled. “I’ve always found it prudent to signal Mr. Data first before entering the holodeck while he’s engaged in one of his programmed simulations,” he said. “With Mr. Data, you never know what you’re liable to be walking into.”

“It certainly was interesting,” Lieutenant Dorn said. “It really did look quite authentic. I felt as if I were surrounded by genuine pirates.”

“Funny you should say that, Lieutenant,” Riker replied. “How would you like to try it for real?”

She looked at him with a puzzled frown. “Sir?”

“Lieutenant Dorn,” Picard said, “during your intelligence-gathering activities, have you ever actually spent any time on the surface of D’rahl?”

“No, sir, I have not. As senior base security officer, I had additional responsibilities aboard the starbase.”

“So then how did you gather your intelligence?” Picard asked.

“I had dispatched some of my security personnel to gather intelligence in the field, sir. With rather limited success, I might add. Additionally, I consulted all available data banks, both here aboard the starbase and on Artemis VI, and I assigned several of my staff to interview officers aboard civilian merchant vessels that had been attacked by freebooters, as well as those who had spent any time on the surface of D’rahl.”

“I see,” Picard said. “In other words, there would be no one on the surface of D’rahl who knew you by sight? Think carefully, Lieutenant.”

She shook her head. “No, sir. I have never been down on the surface. Of D’rahl, that is. I attended a formal reception on N’trahn once, and I have been down to Artemis VI, but otherwise I have confined my activities to the starbase.”

“What about communications?” asked Picard. “Have you ever communicated by viewscreen with anyone on the surface of D’rahl? Again, Lieutenant, think very carefully.”

She paused a moment, thinking. “No, sir.” Suddenly, she realized what he was getting at. “Captain, am I to understand that I am being considered for some sort of undercover, intelligence-gathering assignment on D’rahl?”

“‘Considered’ is the operative word, Lieutenant,” said Picard. “I have discussed it with Captain Gruzinov and my senior officers, and we all agree that this assignment should be strictly voluntary. It could entail some personal risk, so no one would hold it against you if you should —”

“I accept, sir.”

Picard raised his eyebrows. “You have not yet heard the details of the assignment.”

“It makes no difference, Captain,” she said. “If my qualifications make me the logical candidate, then I accept. What would you like me to do, sir?”

“You are quite certain that no one knows you on D’rahl?”

“Quite certain, sir.”

“Good,” Picard said. He snapped his fingers.

“Wait . . . what about that reception you attended on N’trahn? Was there anyone from D’rahl in attendance? Governor T’grayn, perhaps?”

“Governor T’grayn was in attendance, sir, but we were never introduced. Lowly security officers do not get to meet colonial governors. We never spoke and I only saw him from a distance, sir. I am quite sure my face would mean nothing to him.”

“Excellent,” Picard said. “What do you think, Number One?”

“She knows a great deal more about the K’trall than any of us do, sir,” Riker replied. “My only reservation was that she might be recognized.”

“Lieutenant,” said Picard, “I would like you to take part in an undercover assignment on D’rahl. You will be working with Commander Riker and Lieutenant Commander La Forge. Your mission will be to pass yourselves off as freelance merchant spacers in search of crew positions on a new ship. We shall take some pains to give you a somewhat disreputable background.”

“I can assist with that, sir,” Dorn said. “I could easily arrange for one of the outbound merchant captains who’s been hit by Blaze to back us up on that one. We could make it look as if we’ve been discharged for dereliction of duty, or something even more serious, if necessary.”

“Good,” Picard said. “Make it so. And we will prepare fake dossiers and papers to back up the deception. Lieutenant Commander Data, Lieutenant Worf, and Counselor Troi will beam down to D’rahl as an official landing party charged with conducting an investigation. They will touch base with the local authorities and remind them that we have Overlord J’drahn’s support for our efforts in this regard. However, while they will be actively conducting an investigation in cooperation with local authorities, they will also be functioning to distract attention from Commander Riker’s team, which will be working independently.

“While we are in orbit over D’rahl,” Picard continued, “we will conduct detailed sensor scans of the planet surface and the surrounding area. Blaze cannot land his ship, so he must be keeping it concealed somewhere in this sector. If he is cloaked, and in orbit with his main engines disengaged, our sensors will be unable to detect him. But he must be resupplying from somewhere on the planet. We shall try to find his base from orbit, if possible. In the meantime, we shall have two teams conducting a search on the planet surface, one openly, one undercover. That way, if the local authorities attempt to hinder one team’s investigation, the other will be able to proceed unimpeded.”

“I understand, sir,” Lieutenant Dorn said. “And if I may say so, sir, it sounds like an excellent plan of operation.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Let us hope the execution is equally excellent,” said Picard. “I would like you to start working with Commander Riker immediately to prepare your cover identities. As soon as Lieutenant Commander La Forge is satisfied that the repairs are proceeding accordingly, I will assign Mr. Data to relieve him and he will join you.”

“May I ask a question, sir?”

“Ask, Lieutenant.”

“Why Mr. La Forge, sir? With all due respect to Lieutenant Commander La Forge, surely a security officer would be better qualified for such an assignment than an engineer.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, Lieutenant, I would agree with you,” Picard said. “But this is a rather extraordinary situation. We need to find out exactly what sort of drives are powering the Glory. And if they are Romulan drives, as seems to be the case, we need to know how they were modified. Mr. La Forge would be the most qualified officer aboard the Enterprise to ascertain those facts. Engineers talk to other engineers, and with a ship as unusual as the Glory, surely someone must have heard something. D’rahl is a liberty port, and I want your team to mingle as much as possible. Particularly among the more disreputable merchant spacers. Blaze has to recruit his crews from somewhere. Freelance spacers are a rough-and-tumble lot. They might hesitate to speak with Starfleet personnel, but not with other freelance spacers.”

“I understand, sir,” Lieutenant Dorn said. “And I appreciate your confidence in my abilities.”

“Thank your commanding officer,” Picard said. “Captain Gruzinov speaks very highly of you. That’s good enough for me. Very well, this briefing is dismissed. Let’s get to work.”