STAR TREK - TNG - 34 - Blaze of Glory

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For Mike Stackpole, with special thanks to Bruce and Peggy Wiley, Megan McDowell, Robert M.
Powers and Sandra West, Jennifer Roberson, Emily Tuzson, Tudor and Angelo Marini, Adele Leone
and her staff and associates, and Tracy Ashleigh, all of whom provided valuable assistance and moral
support during the writing of this novel. Live long and prosper.
Prologue
COMMANDERWILLIAMRIKERleaned back in the command chair on the bridge of theEnterprise
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 theEnterprise 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 itnow , 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 theAntares 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 starboardrear 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 wasone 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 notthat 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, “runEnterprise 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. “
Thisis 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, thiswas 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 theGlory , 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 thesole 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, theGlory 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 theGlory , 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.”
“Outpowersthem?” 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 starbaseand 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 theEnterprise . 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, donot underestimate him. TheGlory may be an old ship, but
she’s as dangerous as any Romulan battle cruiser.”
“TheEnterprise 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 theGlory 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 theEnterprise , 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.
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ForMikeStackpole,withspecialthankstoBruceandPeggyWiley,MeganMcDowell,RobertM.PowersandSandraWest,JenniferRoberson,EmilyTuzson,TudorandAngeloMarini,AdeleLeoneandherstaffandassociates,andTracyAshleigh,allofwhomprovidedvaluableassistanceandmoralsupportduringthewritingofthisnovel.Livelongandprosper.Prol...

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