Scene 9

            “In five days the Savant Project officials will arrive,” Jarod told the senior officers. “Data and Geordi, we have that long to prepare the ship’s cloak. I already have the holodeck prepared. Worf, we’ll go over security arrangements later. Beverly, what is the status of the drug?”

            “It will take four days to synthesize, but it will be ready, Jarod,” she smiled.

            “Good. Deanna, will you be ready to stand by in case your expertise is needed?”

            “To be honest, Jarod, the most I can say is ‘I think so.’ I’m doing much better, but I’m still going through strange spells.”

            Jarod frowned. Angelo’s presence was still neatly jamming Deanna’s empathic abilities. He was having the time of his life, but he would have to stay away from the holodeck. “I trust you, Deanna. I believe you’ll be fine. Any questions?”

            “About the Vulcan teacher Sirok,” Riker said. “How are you tracking him?”

            Jarod smiled. “He ate his tracking device. We had a little soup together before he left. You know, clear plomeek broth is not as bad as the actual soup. Anyway, I am receiving all his information, and the recordings will go straight to Starfleet Intelligence. I want to reiterate how much I appreciate all you have done. Normally my missions don’t require me to make so much use of others’ personnel. I am glad you’ve been able to join me. This mission will not destroy Section 31—they’re too good for that—but it will strike a death blow to the Savant Project, which is what is important to me just now.”

            “We’re with you on that,” Geordi said.

            As Jarod and the senior officers left the room, Picard reflected on how well Jarod dealt with the crew and how instinctually they responded to him. He had been aboard not even three weeks, and he had a connection to each officer in a way Picard had never seen in anyone but Deanna. Deanna could feel with each of the others, but in some way Jarod seemed to be able to become them. Even Data, which was more than Deanna could do. It was what made him such a good intelligence officer, but nom d’un nom— Picard shook his head. The Federation had missed out on a fine starship captain.

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Scene 10

            Jarod had not seen the three prisoners in the brig since Worf had led them away. He didn’t want to be distracted. But now it was just waiting, and he was already distracted. If they hadn’t been there, he would have enjoyed his time working on the cloak with Geordi, talking to Guinan, or taking in a few Sherlock Holmes mysteries with data, but their presence ate at him. What would he gain by talking to them? They could not speak freely, in this place where they shared the same secret, and he could not ask them for information about his family. He had not intended for them to be here and had nothing to tell them. He didn’t want to see them. But he went down to see them.

            They didn’t need to be bored in there. He had seen to it that they had books, music, intellectual stimulation. Sydney and Broots, at least, were occupying their time trying to learn 3-D chess. But of course Miss Parker was bored and seething.

            “Jarod, you—” she swore at him.

            “Now, Miss Parker, mind your language. You’re talking to a Starfleet officer.”

            “It—it looks good,” Broots offered from the safety of the back of the cell. “The uniform.”

            “It is a good uniform, isn’t it? As for you, how does it feel to be part of Section 31.”

            Broots bristled. “I’m not Section 31!” Then he considered. “Gosh, maybe I am.”

            “Section 31?” Miss Parker said between her teeth, barely holding onto her temper.

            “The Centre, Miss Parker,” Jarod answered. “Just another name for the same old thing. Ruining people’s lives for the sake of profit, politics, science, or whatever you need to call on to justify it. I didn’t expect to find it here, but I did. I guess people are the same wherever you go, no matter what kind of people they are.”

            “You’re enjoying yourself here, Jarod, whatever sort of people you have found, aren’t you?” Sydney asked.

            “Why, yes, Sydney. I’m sorry I can’t say the same for you, but that’s not my fault.”

            “Actually, Jarod, both Broots and I are enjoying ourselves highly.”

            Jarod leaned against the opposite wall and crossed his arms, grinning. “I suppose you would be, wouldn’t you? There’s plenty for you to study here, Sydney, even in a brig.”

            “There certainly is, not the least of which is Deanna Troi. She has visited three times.”

            “Has she? Interesting. What do you think?”

            “She’s angry with us, Jarod. On your behalf, I should think. But she is very interested in us as well.”

            “Just what I need,” Miss Parker muttered. “Two shrinks following me around. I wish you would tell her to leave us alone.”

            Jarod shook his head. “Far be it from me to tell a scientist who she may study, Miss Parker. You could learn a lot from her, you know.”

            She rolled her eyes. “No, thank you. I’ll learn what I want, when I want.”

            “Don’t limit yourself, Parker. You owe yourself more than that.”

            She came close to the forcefield. “Jarod, listen to me. Get me out of here! I’m going insane.”

            Jarod stepped up to the forcefield too, so that no more than a few inches of what looked like empty space separated them. “You don’t like being confined any more than I do,” he said softly. “I’ve put myself in your place, too, you know. I’ve been you. I’ve felt what you feel. You hate being trapped. You hate being impotent. It tears away all your defenses. Now put yourself in my place. Freedom means even more to me than it does to you. You will not have me. And for the moment you’re going to stay trapped. Experience what you’re trying to do to me. So you may as well take advantage of it as Sydney does. You won’t stop me.”

            Miss Parker raised her hand and put it against the forcefield so that it buzzed and rang. “Jarod, I’ll kill you.”

            “No, you won’t.” He turned and went out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scene 11

            Now only one day was left, one day until the second sting operation that would allow Starfleet Intelligence to demolish the Savant Project. Jarod has prepared the complete report with all evidence, as he usually did. This time it would not be going in a manila envelope but by subspace communications. It was timed to go out automatically when he went to meet the Section 31 leaders. Starfleet Intelligence, of course, knew nothing of his existence and the mission he had created for himself. But they would know all about the Savant Project when they received his report, and from then on it would be their responsibility. Section 31 would continue, of course. There were enough of those people in Starfleet. But Starfleet would not allow the kidnapping of its children to continue. It was still run by more decent people than he had ever thought could exist in one place.

            After the Centre, he ought to have been stripped of all belief in the positive side of human nature. After all, his whole childhood had been spent investigating murders, assassinations, bombings, epidemics, piracy. There had been no investigation of things like family life, friendship, random acts of kindness. But somehow he had clung to the belief that these things must exist. When he stepped into the mind of the assassin of a great civil rights leader, he also stepped into the mind of the civil rights leader himself and learned about what drove him. He stepped into the minds of policemen, politicians, and doctors, learning about their passion for justice. And when he escaped, he sought those things automatically. He found both sides of life, both exploiters of the helpless and defenders of the helpless. His first Pretend—it had been instinctual. He had witnessed a man give up his life to save a stranger from a mugging, and without thinking he had gone after the criminal who took that innocent, courageous life. He had gone after him his own way, becoming a police officer, finding that the talents Sydney had developed in him worked perfectly in the real world.

            He did have to admit that Sydney had been a large part of it. Sydney, who lived a double life within himself, had trained him in right and wrong. Sydney, who could close his eyes to the fact that his work exploited the powerless and yet believe passionately that his Centre existed for the good of society.

            When had Jarod realized that what they were doing to him was wrong? He had always questioned, always pushed the boundaries of what was allowed, always known his life was different than other children’s, but for a very long time it never occurred to him that what the Centre did was purely wrong. That would have been admitting that what Sydney did was wrong. From a very young age Sydney ran him through simulations of disasters, murders, kidnappings, things, Jarod knew now, no child should have to experience, much less to the level of emotional involvement he had experienced them. And he had not questioned whether it was right for the Centre—for Sydney to subject him to them, other than in his occasional childish fits of pique and stubbornness. In a way he had been innocent, taking part in horrors yet innocent. His innocence and trust in Sydney had died when he actually began to apply his considerable brain powers to the possible results of his simulations, when he learned that innocent people were dying because of them. But how long had it taken? When had it sunk in? When had he truly realized all they had taken from him?

            “Jarod Westmore.”

            He jerked, awoke from his reverie. He was in Engineering, finishing the last touches to the Enterprise’s cloak. Geordi had been astonished at his level of technical knowledge in the technology. He had joked that he liked to read technical journals. Well, he did.

            Now he turned to see Riker standing there with Worf and another gold-uniformed security officer. And at the look in Riker’s eye, his heart—his whole being—sank.

            “Jarod Westmore, will you come with me, please?”

            “Hey, Commander,” Geordi protested. “What’s this? Commander Westmore and I still have a couple hours of work.”

            “Stop your work, Geordi. Mister Westmore has some questions to answer—in the brig.”

            “The brig? But—”

            “Geordi, don’t stop working,” Jarod said urgently.

            Worf was taking his arm and saying uncomfortably. “Please come with us.”

            “Geordi, you have to finish it!” They were pulling him out of the room. “Everything depends on it, Geordi!”

            His brain was buzzing when the brig forcefield sprang into place behind him. “Please—” he said, though something was choking him, “please—you can’t do this! Let me complete my mission!”

            “Your mission?” Riker snapped. “You have no mission. Starfleet Intelligence has never even heard of you.”

            “Of course they haven’t! Do you think they admit the existence of their top-secret operatives to just anyone?”

            “Captain Picard is not just anyone, Westmore! I suspected you from the first, and he gave me clearance to do some checking up on you. There is no record of your existence in the Federation. You are not a Starfleet officer, which makes wearing that uniform a legal offense. Conveniently, none of the people who signed your ‘orders’ have been available to confirm them…except that Admiral Zeubin returned early from his ‘rest leave’ and says he has never heard of you. You have forged Starfleet Intelligence documents and sent a Starfleet ship on a wild goose chase!”

            “No!” Jarod shouted. “The Savant Project is real! You have to believe me! Real children are being ripped from their families, and no one is doing anything to stop it! Please! We have to stop it!”

            “You are no longer doing anything on this ship except sitting in this brig until we can turn you over to Starfleet Security.”

            Riker turned and stalked away. Jarod shouted after him, “Riker, look at the evidence! Examine Onatah! You can’t just turn your back on this!”

            Riker was gone. Jarod stumbled back, down onto the floor against the wall. No! You have to find them! The children! The children are still missing! You have to find them! Dear God, I have to find them. He put his head into his hands.