"Pirates would need such knowledge," Worf said. Picard thought the Klingon sounded a bit wistful.

"I agree, Lieutenant-odd." Data looked puzzled. "There are no instructions on communication devices or linguistics."

"That figures," Offenhouse said. "The Carda.s.sians wanted these people to fight, not talk. Data, how long would it take someone who used that gimmick to get the hang of flying a ship?"

Data looked thoughtful. "A period of familiarization with an actual starship would be mandatory," he said, "as neural imprinting imparts knowledge, but not experience. However, given the sophistication of this"-he hefted the helmet, which glittered under the room's intense light-" 'gimmick,' the familiarization would require only a matter of hours."

"They could use the simulators in this building," Worf said.

"So a crew could be ready for s.p.a.ce almost at once," Picard concluded.

"That's what I was afraid of," Offenhouse said, standing up. "Picard, we unconsciously a.s.sumed that the Ferengi would take years to train their crews. After all, that's how long it takes at Starfleet Academy, right?"

"And they've only recently begun to train starcrew here," Picard said grimly.

Worf growled thoughtfully. "This suggests that the Megarans are ready to take the offensive now."

"Exactly," Offenhouse said. "This is an efficient operation. It'd be inefficient to build a bunch of ships, then have them sit idle while the crews were trained. I'm surprised that the Megarans aren't already using their ships."

"The danger of that is over," Picard said. "We've defeated the Carda.s.sians."

"That may not be relevant, sir," Data said, as he placed the helmet back on its shelf. He paused, and the look on his face told Picard he was considering a new idea. "Our actions may have fitted into their plans. Once Megara was ready to play its role, it would have been necessary for the Carda.s.sians to remove the Ferengi, to return control of their world to the Megarans."

"And we've just removed the Ferengi," Offenhouse concluded. "We don't control this planet; n.o.body does. There's nothing to restrain the Megarans now."

"Nor is there anything to provoke them," Picard answered.

Offenhouse gestured at the silvery helmets on the shelf. "With the sort of training they've had, they may not need a provocation. They've literally had their heads filled with ideas of piracy."

"There are also the Carda.s.sians," Data said. "It is probable that any survivors will continue their clandestine activities. If a provocation is needed here, they can supply it."

" 'Here'?" Worf repeated, a look of curiosity on his face.

"I meant on Megara in general," Data said. "However, if their goal is to subvert the Megarans into a career of piracy, then they would have to operate within a s.p.a.ceport."

"Indeed," Worf said, almost purring. "And this is the closest s.p.a.ceport to their last known location. Captain, I suggest that you and the amba.s.sador return to the ship now."

Picard felt grimly amused by the Klingon's tone. "Do you expect trouble, Lieutenant?"

"I have my hopes, sir," Worf rumbled.

Chapter Sixteen.

ODOVIL PARDI entered transporter room three as Picard and Offenhouse materialized. The captain thought she looked tense. The Megaran woman had traded her drab coverall for a long-skirted dress-Picard imagined that Troi had helped her select it; the flowing style reflected the Betazoid counselor's tastes-and her fingers plucked nervously at a sleeve. "Ral'feh," she said, as soon as the transport process had ended, "rateyes on this ship there are. M-many rateyes."

"What the h.e.l.l?" the amba.s.sador asked. "Picard, what are Ferengi doing here?"

"We rescued them," Picard said. "The Megarans were lynching them. We're holding the survivors in protective custody."

The amba.s.sador's jaw twitched. "Put them back where you found them," he said in a voice as cold as s.p.a.ce.

"No," Picard said, shocked. "That would be murder."

Offenhouse glanced at De Shay, whose jaw had sagged in surprise, then looked back to Picard. "We need to talk-in private."

There was a conference room down the corridor from the transporter room. Picard led Offenhouse and Odovil into it and sat down facing them across the table. "I will not allow the Ferengi to be slaughtered," Picard said.

"Hear me out," Offenhouse said. "Have you thought about how we're going to straighten out the mess down there?"

"Frankly, no," Picard said. "I haven't had the time."

"You should take it," Offenhouse said. "Think, Picard. I have to convince the Megarans that we're the good guys, that we aren't evil outworlders. How in h.e.l.l am I supposed to do that if they see us rescuing the Ferengi?"

"True this is," Odovil said. "If the rateyes you help, our enemies you are."

"And if we're the enemy," Offenhouse said, "we can forget about fixing things down there. Know what that means? We won't have a chance in h.e.l.l of keeping the Megarans from becoming pirates. Sure, Starfleet can beat them, but we'll kill thousands of them in the process-and we'll be doing exactly what the Carda.s.sians planned all along. Or are you ready to bombard their brand-new s.p.a.ceports and factories, now, to keep them out of s.p.a.ce?"

"Certainly not," Picard said in annoyance. "I shall not commit an act of war on the a.s.sumption that these people might cause trouble."

Offenhouse snorted in disgust. "But you're willing to help their worst enemies. Saving the Ferengi could be the thing that provokes them into hitting the warpath."

"So what you propose," Picard said, "is that we gain the friendship of Megara by allowing them to kill the Ferengi."

"Think of it as justice," Offenhouse said.

"I think of it as something uncomfortably close to human sacrifice," Picard answered. "And it is not for us to decide where justice lies here."

"No, it's for the Megarans," Offenhouse said. He nodded at Odovil. "The Ferengi used neural imprinting to give her an education. Any idea of what that was like for her?"

Picard looked at the woman. Is this why she always seems so apprehensive? he wondered. Her nervous state might well be a pathological by-product of neural imprinting-and the Ferengi would have done far worse things to many other people. "I doubt that I can imagine the full extent of the crimes the Ferengi have committed here," Picard said, "but that does not matter. I will not hand over the Ferengi to mob violence."

Offenhouse stared at him across the table. "Even though it means blowing our chance here?"

"Yes," Picard said. "If we deny justice to anyone, then we deny the very concept of justice. And consider this," Picard continued, raising his voice before the amba.s.sador could interrupt him. "The Carda.s.sians sought to turn Megara into a h.e.l.lhole of violence. If we hand over the Ferengi, it will only encourage more bloodshed, not end it-"

"Dammit!" Offenhouse slammed a fist down onto the table. "Listen, Picard-"

"Ral'feh," Odovil said quietly. "Too much evil I have seen. Somewhere it must stop."

"Dammit-" The amba.s.sador stopped as the woman flinched at his anger. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Odovil, but I don't want the Ferengi to get away with what they've done."

"Justice I would see," Odovil said. "But like a rateyes I would not act, even if justice they escape."

"They won't," Offenhouse promised, looking to Picard. "I'll find a way to make them pay."

"If you can find a way to bring the Ferengi to justice," Picard said, emphasizing the word, "I shall be the first to congratulate you. But there is another matter here, Mr. Amba.s.sador-the Prime Directive. You speak of 'straightening out' the situation on Megara. I find that a laudable goal-but precisely how do you intend to do that?"

"Well ... well, I'm not sure," he admitted. "Not yet."

"Yet you're willing to send the Ferengi to their deaths," Picard noted, "without considering the effect this slaughter might have on your unformed plans. Mr. Amba.s.sador, this is precisely why we abide by the Prime Directive. Well-intended blunders are as destructive as deliberate malice."

"So what are you saying, Picard?" Offenhouse demanded. "Are we just going to walk away from Megara, then come back and blow them to h.e.l.l if they make trouble?"

"I have said nothing about 'walking away,' " Picard said in irritation, "although we shall, if the only option is to cause further harm here. Mr. Amba.s.sador, you may not simply impose your solutions on the Megarans. That is what the Ferengi and Carda.s.sians have done. We may offer them advice, we may offer lessons from our own mistakes, but it must be the Megarans who choose their own course."

"To mistakes you admit?" Odovil asked in surprise.

Offenhouse sighed. "Yeah ... and when we make 'em, we don't do it by halves. Odovil, let me tell you about Khan Singh. Then you can decide just how much help you want from me." He took her hand and helped her out of her chair, and they left the room.

Picard leaned back in his chair. It's too much to expect that man to serve justice, he thought sadly. Offenhouse's first impulse had been to throw away the lives of the Ferengi in the name of expediency. For all his intelligence, the amba.s.sador was a product of the twentieth century, and justice had not been a concern of that era.

Shrev checked her phaser's charge as she stepped onto the transporter stage with the security detail. You must think of this abomination as a tool, she thought in disgust. You will use it to carry out your orders. While her people had no qualms about war and violence-Zhuik hives had been invading and conquering one another since before humans had evolved-they fought with honor. It was ign.o.ble to use a weapon that struck down an enemy at a distance, or to kill without first identifying oneself to an enemy. That was the way most mammalian races fought, and their anonymous style of combat often had led to millions of anonymous dead.

De Shay worked his control console, and the transporter set Shrev and five other people in the middle of a street in Metari Leeg. It was night, but the heat from buildings and pavement gave her antennae enough infrared light to show her the scene. This part of the town was nothing like the city she and Wesley Crusher had visited. There were no old buildings here, no cobbled roads or alleys. Everything was stark and modern.

Lieutenant Worf and Commander Data came out of a building "Carda.s.sians may be present in this area," Worf said, coming right to the point as he always did. "They are disguised as Megarans. We will find them and defeat them."

"Sir, how many are there?" one of the men on the security detail asked.

"That is uncertain, Ensign," Data answered. "It is possible that there are no Carda.s.sians present in Metari Leeg-" Worf growled at that. "-but there are logical reasons to a.s.sume that we shall encounter them," Data added hastily.

"Indeed," Worf said. "Ensign Shrev."

"Yes, sir?" Shrev whispered.

"You are able to recognize Carda.s.sians," the Klingon said. "When you see them, commence fire at once. We will fire at your targets with you."

"Yes, sir." Shrev set her phaser for heavy stun, then looked to the Klingon. "Sir, would it not be possible to identify a Carda.s.sian with a tricorder?"

"There is too much electronic interference in this area," Data explained. "However, it is known that your senses are reliable."

"Let us begin," Worf said. The Klingon began walking down the street. At a gesture from him, Shrev fell into step at Data's side. Worf and the rest of the detail spread out, screening them.

The city was not deserted. Shrev heard the sound of a riot in the distance, and hot smoke glowed in the sky. There was something odd about the sky itself, but it was not until she heard one of the human security agents mention aurorae that she realized what it was. The woman called the sight glorious, but Shrev's colorblind eyes could detect only vague smears of light.

Concentrate on your duty, she ordered herself. From time to time she saw Megarans, but they seemed intent on avoiding the heavily armed away team, running off the moment they saw the aliens. On this occasion Shrev did not mind the rudeness; it proved that they wished to avoid trouble.

Without warning a phaser beam flicked out of a building and killed a man. "Take cover!" Worf called. As Shrev dashed behind a parked truck she saw Data fire a rapid, precise string of shots into each window, covering the rest of the team.

Worf landed behind the truck alongside her. "Are they Carda.s.sians?" the Klingon asked.

Shrev peeked around the truck's cab. She had a brief glimpse of someone in a window, but she could not decide if she had viewed a Megaran or a Carda.s.sian. "I regret that I cannot give a confident answer, sir," she said.

Worf grunted. "A pity you cannot see through walls."

"I share your admirable sentiment, sir," Shrev whispered. Then an idea struck her. "Perhaps we can remove the walls."

Worf shook his head. "Our phasers lack the energy for-"

A phaser beam carved into the truck, which thumped to the pavement as its suspensors died. "There may be another way, sir," Shrev said. "Shrev to De Shay. Could I trouble you for some technical advice?"

"That's why I'm here," De Shay's voice answered.

"We are being attacked from a building to our immediate north," Shrev said. "Exposing our a.s.sailants would be of great help. Could you use the transporter to remove sections of the building's walls?"

"I think so," De Shay said in a distracted tone. "I'll have to override the safety parameters-"

"I urge haste," Worf said.

"Give me a minute, Lieutenant," De Shay grumbled. "Beaming up part of an object is considered poor form. This machine isn't designed for it."

Worf snarled something in what Shrev presumed was an obscure Klingonese dialect. He adjusted his phaser to a high setting and fired several shots at the building. Shrev saw no effect from his a.s.sault; whoever was in the building continued to shoot back.

A ten-meter section of wall shimmered and vanished, exposing several people. Deprived of cover, they fell within seconds as the away team stunned them. More sections of wall vanished, along with slabs of roof and floor; Shrev saw that De Shay was methodically demolishing the building with the transporter.

Shrev watched a man tumble to the ground. "That is a Carda.s.sian, sir," she told Worf.

"Good," Worf said.

Another section of wall vanished. Shrev saw a Carda.s.sian with a phaser rifle. She stunned him, then felt her antennae writhe in shame at her dishonorable act. At least he had lived; she could apologize to him for her shameful behavior later.

After what seemed an eternity the building was reduced to a few tottering walls. A trio of Carda.s.sians had gathered with their backs to one wall. They looked at the humans and stopped shooting. Shrev wondered if they were going to surrender.

"Down!" Worf bellowed. "Everyone take cover!" Shrev hesitated, then heard the rising whine of a phaser set on overload. She pressed herself against the pavement as the roar of an explosion boomed over her.

Worf walked over the rubble while the others scanned it with their tricorders. The remains of bodies lay amid smoking, ruined equipment. Carda.s.sian military equipment, he thought, recognizing bits and pieces he had seen in intelligence reports. Some of the debris came from nonportable equipment, including a short-range holographic projector, which when activated produced the ghostly image of a cruel-faced woman in a robe. It was his opinion that this building had been some sort of outpost, pressed into use as an emergency base.

"Scan complete, Lieutenant," Data reported, crossing a debris pile to reach the Klingon. "No sign of survivors."

Worf nodded. "And no sign of an escape route."

"That is correct," Data said. The android tilted his head thoughtfully. "When the Carda.s.sians realize how thoroughly we have defeated them here, they will surely hesitate to attack us. It appears that your victory is complete."

More complete than you can know, Worf thought. By fighting here, he had prevented a larger war.I have proven that my people are not like the Carda.s.sians. I have fought to preserve honor, not to create war.

And I have won because I am a Klingon.

The Klingon smiled up at the night sky, where aurorae shimmered like a hero's spirit.

It was a coincidence that Picard was in the same transporter room that brought Wesley Crusher's team back to the ship; Picard had been waiting for Worf's return. De Shay wrinkled his nose as Wesley and three other relief workers materialized. They were wet and filthy, and carried the odors of organic substances in a.s.sorted states of decay. "Apparently I should have given your a.s.signment more thought," Picard said as Wesley stepped off the platform.

Wesley smiled sheepishly as he glanced at his uniform. "It was a bit messy, sir," he admitted, "but we got through our search area all right."