It was a useful piece of information. But Korgh feared his youngest son’s prowess might have shown itself too late.
PHANTOM WING VESSEL COB’LAT
“I am here, my friend,” Kahless said to Worf as he entered the bridge. Several consoles on Cob’lat’s command deck were on fire, much like other parts of the ship he had seen on the way from the transporter room. In midair over Ketorix, the bird-of-prey was laying down suppressive fire against the invaders on the ground, and the parked battlespheres were exacting a steep price for the act.
“I live,” Kahless said, “though it surprises me.”
“I apologize for not letting you go down with Klongat,” Worf said. “But we need every warrior!”
“There are better ways to die than crashing into a boot factory. All those you transported appreciate it.”
“Their respite will not be long. I have found something,” Worf said. He pointed to a monitor across the bridge. “Lord Korgh has been broadcasting from the house headquarters—that taller building inside the compound.”
Kahless studied the display. Amid static and darkness, he could see several armed Klingons in motion. “They are holding out there?”
“For some time, and he has been rallying the planet’s people all the while.”
Kahless made a fist. “Such devotion must be rewarded.”
One of the twin brothers—the clone had never learned to tell between them—looked back at him. “There is no place near there to put down, Kahless. The Kinshaya control the surrounding surface.”
“Then deliverance shall come from the sky!”
Forty-nine
BLACKSTONE
ORBITING JANALWA
Gaw looked with satisfaction at his work, and then yelped as a pair of strong gloved hands grabbed at his shoulders. His minder had seen the cap atop Shift’s character’s head. Yanked from his chair, the Ferengi protested all the way as he was shoved toward the bridge.
On the bridge, he saw that something had already gotten up Chot Dayn’s nose—or in his armored snout. Gaw had a pretty good idea what it was. The displays showing the progress of the invasion indicated several fewer Kinshaya orbs than Gaw had seen the last time he had been allowed on the bridge. As he stood there, another blinked and disappeared. Electronic gobbledygook passed between Gaw’s minder and the chot.
Dayn faced him and assumed a hostile posture. “What have you done?” he said in words the Ferengi could understand. “What is happening with Shift?”
Before he could think up a response, another Breen officer entered with a report. Dayn was clearly startled. “Starfleet officers? In the temple?”
Violently, he shoved Gaw, knocking the technician against the bulkhead. Gaw slid to the deck—which, the Ferengi realized, was not a bad place to be. For from his position looking forward, he could see the two vessels decloaking outside Blackstone. A ship much like his—and a large, sleek Federation starship.
Gaw was the only one braced when the photon torpedo detonated just above the hull. Lights went out on the bridge, and the world went spinning. Once his eyes adjusted and he regained his bearings, he saw the Breen scattered about, still dazed.
The ship’s comm system came alive, broadcasting a male human voice. “This is Commander Bowers of the U.S.S. Aventine. You will surrender your vessel immediately. Prepare to be boarded.”
Much of the bridge looked intact to Gaw, but outside he could see a spiral trail of debris—including, he recognized, large sections of Blackstone’s dorsal mast.
The illusion projector.
His heart sank. Blackstone would make no more magic. Chot Dayn, getting to his feet, appeared to have no illusions either. He squawked a command—and seconds later he and several of his companions transported away.
CATHEDRAL OF STATE
JANALWA
From Dax’s perspective, she knew the moment her orders had been carried out. The captain did not know exactly what had transpired, but she had just seen Niamlar transform into a very startled Orion woman. “Shift, I presume.”
Tuvok and Chen hurried across the floor of the rotunda to her. He pointed his phaser at her—and unwilling to risk her escaping, grabbed her arm. She resisted, but could not get away.
She was wearing a jumpsuit that Dax had seen before; it was worn beneath Breen armor. Shift was sweating profusely. Chen turned the woman’s other arm to expose the Breen symbol on the sleeve. She and Tuvok turned Shift so that the Kinshaya could see.
“It is true,” Yeffir said, genuinely astonished. “The Breen have sent us to war on a lie!”
“Do you have anything to say to these people?” Dax said.
Shift glowered at the captain, her lips tightly sealed.
“How about to me?” Ardra asked, strolling forward in casual triumph. “You and Heghtar abandoned me. Did she help arrange the business with the Klingon cult, after you met Cross? Such mischief for one so old—and one so young.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Shift said, a snarl on her face. “You people in the Circle use your abilities for nothing, only to enrich yourselves. You’re an offense to equality. You’re worse than useless.”
Dax’s combadge chirped. “Go.”
“This is Lieutenant Kedair. Captain, my strike force has taken Blackstone—along with a number of Breen warriors who chose to surrender. We also have some very relieved technicians.”
“Send them straight to the brig. Is she spaceworthy?”
“Yes, but the illusion generator hardware appears destroyed.”
“Duplicate all the databanks and do an evidence sweep.” Dax looked back at the Kinshaya. “I want you to put the Blackstone down in the plaza, outside the cathedral. Dax out.”
“Captain, you are bringing it here?” Tuvok asked.
“That’s right.” The captain turned and faced the Kinshaya. “We could have used our own illusionist to order you to stop your war with the Klingons,” she said as she walked in front of them. “But then we’d be treating you with no more respect than the Breen did.”
The Trill pointed to the western exit. “I invite each and every Kinshaya to go take a look at that thing—and to view whatever images were taken of what happened here today. I think you’ll find it’s in your interest.” She clasped her hands behind her. “I also think you’ll find it’s in your interest to recall your people from the Klingon Empire. I don’t think you would have gone to war on your own.”
Ykredna found herself the focus of many angry Kinshaya eyes. She was shaking. “Even if that was not Niamlar,” she said, “we still have our beliefs! The Klingons are monsters, devils!”
“Everyone has beliefs,” Dax said. “I believe there are people who do evil. Devils can belong to any species, not just Klingons.”
Shift let loose with a sardonic laugh. “Klingon devils? I could tell you quite a lot about one I know—”
And she might have, if it were not for the transporter effect that suddenly materialized around her, separating her from Tuvok’s grasp. The last thing Dax saw on the woman’s face before she was spirited away was a look of utter surprise.
“Unfortunate that this keeps happening,” Tuvok said, almost allowing his frustration to show.
BREEN SHUTTLE
ORBITING JANALWA
Shift materialized in the darkened rear of a small excursion craft. As she caught her breath, she realized two Breen officers were there beside her. Without her helmet and its interface, she could not identify them.
But she had no trouble recognizing Chot Dayn when they escorted her to the forward compartment. She knew the figure in the passenger seat from the dismissive way he crossed his arms and tilted his head whenever he looked at her.
“Your face offends me,” he said so she could understand.
“My helmet is aboard the Blackstone.”
“Everything about you offends me,” Dayn said. “You novice, you child—you of the wild schemes and ideas. You sold the domo on this nonsense—and it has come to nothing!�
��
Looking forward, Shift could see the damaged Blackstone sitting beside the Aventine. The Kinshaya patrol vessels in orbit were giving the Starfleet vessel a wide berth. Off to the other side of Aventine she could see another vessel, nearly Blackstone’s twin.
So that was how they did it, she thought.
“I have recalled all Breen on Janalwa to their safe houses and ships,” Dayn said. “We do not have the forces here to contest the Starfleet vessel, should they choose to seize the government buildings or the communications links with the attack fleet. And I do not trust the Kinshaya to support us.”
“They supported us long enough. The plan did everything it was supposed to,” Shift declared. Hunkering down now was pointless. She had to attack. “Thot Roje by now has conquered all of the House of Kruge’s territory. How long the Kinshaya cooperate is of no concern. We have wounded the Empire.”
“Things were not going so well at our last report—which is why I had this shuttle standing by to reclaim key personnel.” Dayn stared at her. “You are not key personnel anymore. But the domo would not want you in enemy hands.”
“We will see what Thot Roje has to say about my position,” Shift said icily, “and yours.”
Before Dayn could respond, a clarion sounded. Shift saw it was an incoming message from Fervent-One. “Now you will see,” she said, slipping past Dayn and activating the viewer.
The face that appeared on the screen was, indeed, Roje’s—yet that was just the start of the horror. His helmet was off, and a gloved hand gripped the fur between his ears.
His throat had been cut.
The owner of the hand moved backward and appeared in the frame with him. Shift, who had gasped before on seeing her friend, inhaled hard again.
Valandris.
“Your leader here was trying to call you, Breen, to tell you of his great success in repelling the boarders of the Unsung.”
Chot Dayn looked at Shift—and then back at the fearsome warrior on screen.
“Your offensive has stalled. His part, anyway.” Valandris’s eyes narrowed with recognition as she studied her listeners. “An Orion woman. Enterprise said such a person was with the pretenders who portrayed Kruge and N’Keera. Would you know of this?”
Shift’s throat went dry. She could not respond.
“Remain silent, then. And if you meet her, tell her—no one crosses a Klingon and lives.” She cast the blood-matted corpse to the deck and cut the transmission.
Fifty
U.S.S. ENTERPRISE
ABOVE NARENDRA III
“Greetings, Picard. I hope you left some scraps for us.”
Picard had seldom been so relieved to receive a hail. The Enterprise had held off the battlespheres for what had seemed like an eternity, expending a fair portion of its complement of photon torpedoes. One of the massive orbs had even been sent limping away after Šmrhová had scored repeated hits on the same location—a difficult task considering how easily the ships rotated their damaged portions out of harm’s way. Yet while they had stemmed the tide, there was no way a single ship could turn it.
Gorkon’s arrival was most welcome—despite the fact that the battle cruiser appeared to have taken some worrisome damage. “We are glad to see you, Captain Klag. What is your condition?”
“Furious,” Klag said on audio. “The damned fool Breen search ship we were escorting tried to block us as we were about to enter warp.”
That did not surprise Picard, who had received reports of similar incidents. “Their condition?”
“Looking for a new way home. It explains our delay.”
“We are glad to have you here.” The captain looked back at a drained Šmrhová and smiled. “Shall we begin?”
They had begun—only just—when one after another, the battlespheres stopped firing.
“What is this?” Klag transmitted. “Fifteen seconds of a fair fight and they quit?” He swore in aggravation.
Picard stared at the viewscreen, somewhat befuddled by the novel sight of space that wasn’t crisscrossed by deadly Kinshaya ordnance. “Hail them, Glinn.”
After consulting his interface, the Cardassian reported, “No answer, sir.”
“Captain,” Lieutenant Elfiki said, “sensors are detecting disruptor fire.”
“Where?”
“The disruptor fire is aboard the ships,” she said. “At least two of them.”
Picard sat down, puzzled. He hailed Gorkon. “Captain, there seems to be a disagreement as to whether to continue.”
“There can be no disagreement between us, Captain.” Gorkon was still quite distant but had not stopped hurling torpedoes since arriving in system. “You and I will fight on until the stars burn out.”
“The Kinshaya are in disagreement.”
“Hmph.” Klag could be heard giving a command, and Gorkon stopped firing. “I would say our arrival had this effect,” Klag said. “But the Kinshaya are not so smart—especially when it comes to my people.”
Dygan said, “Captain, priority one being rerouted by Command to all vessels in Klingon space. It’s the Aventine.”
ORE-PROCESSING CENTER
PHEBEN IV
“—and the Holy Order has issued a general stand-down and withdrawal order while the Matriarchs empanel a group of inquiry,” Captain Dax said. “They outnumber the Breen aboard the battlespheres, so I expect any disagreements won’t last long.”
Standing in the wreckage-strewn barracks of Pheben IV’s largest ore-processing facility, Riker looked at the beleaguered Titan security team and responded. “That tracks with what we’ve seen here, Captain Dax. Most of the ground invaders transported out and left. Thanks for the hail.”
“I figured you’d want the full story. I’ll touch base with you in a couple of hours about wrapping up here.”
“Sounds like you’re on top of it.” He grinned. “Keep this up and you’ll make admiral.”
“I thought you were trying to get on my good side. Dax out.”
Riker had been allowed to visit the processing plant only after the fireworks had ended. His inspection had shown him the remnants of a pitched battle, one that had been joined when Titan and Gur’rok finally evaded nuisance Breen ships to reach Pheben IV. With the battlespheres disgorging Kinshaya assault troops, the two starships had beamed teams to critical points in the facility—and ultimately had saved most of the Pheben laborers from being massacred.
Lieutenant Kyzak looked up from the phaser he had been tinkering with. “Sounds like a horse is coming,” he said.
“Good ear.” Riker noted the direction of the galloping sounds—and was startled to see a lone Kinshaya, unarmed and shed of its barding, bolting through the barracks like a thing afire. Behind it charged several Klingons, armed with disruptor rifles and bat’leths.
“Hold,” Riker said, appealing for the pursuers to stop. “Didn’t you hear?”
General Kersh entered the room, following her warriors. Spotting Riker blocking their path, her expression soured. “Everywhere I go.”
“I was just making sure your people had heard about the Kinshaya pullback.”
“We have heard,” she said, standoffish. “They are making sure that particular Kinshaya has heard about it.”
Riker looked back at the young Kinshaya, cowering behind a locker. “I don’t think fighting him will be honorable.”
Kersh stared at the Kinshaya—and then looked at Riker for a long moment. She shook her head, seemingly bewildered by the recent sequence of events. “Riker, sometimes I think you know our ways better than we do.”
She stared at him and contemplated. “Before the attack, I had been about to strike your ship.”
“I remember.”
“Had I done so in my rage, it would have been the end of the Accords.”
He stepped toward her. “It’s not the end, for either of us. Look at it another way. A new era has begun.” Riker straightened and shouted in his best Klingon: “tagh may’qochvan!”
Kersh st
ared at him in wonder—and then smiled as she realized the implications of what Riker had said. She turned to her companions. “tagh may’qochvan! net Sovjaj!” she said. “The may’qochvan begins—let it be known!”
As the warriors and the security officers cheered, Kyzak sidled up to the admiral. “What does it mean?” he asked.
Kersh heard and answered. “The may’qochvan is a time of truce, of celebration, between rivals who have joined to defeat a common enemy.”
Riker nodded. “The nobles of the House of Kruge, for all their faults, decided to let their may’qochvan continue for a hundred years—a century of peace.” He smiled and offered his hand to Kersh. “Let’s see if the Federation and the Empire can top that record.”
Fifty-one
HOUSE OF KRUGE INDUSTRIAL COMPOUND
KETORIX PRIME
Had there been any major change in the status of the war, Korgh knew there was no way anyone in the darkness of the tower would have learned of it. Certainly the Kinshaya had not reacted as if help had arrived for the besieged Klingons of Ketorix. They continued to emerge from the turbolift—and yes, even the stairwell—to charge down the long hall, challenging Korgh and his escorts.
They had numbered five when they started—Korgh, Tragg, and three young warriors. Two of them had fallen, and now the third was in a desperate fight with not one, but three Kinshaya. Tragg, his right shoulder bleeding from a gash, pulled at Korgh’s uniform. “Father, we must fall back!”
Korgh would not leave the young defender—but one of the Kinshaya ran the warrior through with a lance, gutting him. Tragg yanked his father back into the atrium just in time to avoid a spray of disruptor fire.
Together they ran back toward Kruge’s statue, black and ominous in the darkness. The torches had long since gone out; the red haze from the flames of the city lit the space where the skylights had been. Reaching the far side of the statue, Korgh stumbled, causing father and son to strike the floor together.
The Hall of Heroes Page 26
