Faces of Fire

by Michael Jan Friedman

  The captain looked at him. "Does that mean you're not going to try?"

  The ambassador turned to face him. "Of course not." He attempted a smile, and nearly got there. "It means I'm going to try twice as hard." This time, his smile went all the way. "And I pity the captain who expects me to get in his way."

  Amen to that, Kirk thought. However, what he said was: "I'd stay and chat a little more, but I'm due up on the bridge."

  "Don't let me keep you," the ambassador told him.

  The captain chuckled. "I won't." And a moment later, he was on his way out into the corridor.

  Amazing, he mused. Every now and then, it seemed, a leopard could change its spots. Kirk was still thinking about Farquhar when he reached the bridge. As he stepped out of the turbolift, he took stock of the personnel on duty. Everyone was present and accounted for.

  Sitting in his command chair, noting the red sphere of Beta Canzandia Three on the main viewscreen, Kirk gave the order: "Take us out of orbit, Mr. Sulu. Half-impulse."

  "Aye-aye, sir," the helmsman replied.

  The captain watched as the planet slowly began to fall back into the recesses of space. Even on impulse power, the Enterprise would lose sight of it in a matter of minutes.

  This was a new experience for him. He had departed from hundreds of worlds, some at this leisurely pace and some a great deal more quickly. But he had never left quite so much behind.

  If things had worked out differently, he might have been one of the terraformers who had remained with the colony. A husband. A father. A family man. But he had made his choice long ago—made his bed, as the expression went. Now' he had to lie in it.

  Spock and McCoy stood on either side of him. Both were silent, giving Kirk a chance to be alone with his thoughts. But not too alone.

  "It shouldn't take too long for them to rebuild," McCoy said finally.

  "Not long at all," Spock agreed. "Their new domes should arrive in a matter of weeks."

  Kirk nodded. "And with Dr. Boudreau's G-Seven unit intact, they'll be back in business inside a month. Of course, Starfleet's going to have to pay a little more attention to this sector in the future. The Klingons didn't get what they were after. They may be back."

  The Vulcan shook his head. "I do not believe they will return, Captain, at least not in the near future. Given the actions of the Klingon who rescued us, I would speculate that Beta Canzandia Three was more of a political pawn than an actual strategic objective."

  "I see," said McCoy. "And since when have you become an expert on Klingon nature?"

  Spock raised an eyebrow. "All scientific theory is based on observation and extrapolation, Doctor. I am merely applying the same procedures to social theory."

  Bones rolled his eyes. "People aren't energy emissions, Spock. They're not quanta. They're unpredict-able."

  The first officer nodded. "Yes. Predictably so."

  McCoy glared at him. "What kind of rhetorical double-talk is that?"

  "It is not double-talk at all, Doctor. It is—"

  "Enough," Kirk barked.

  Immediately, his companions fell silent. Swiveling in his seat, he regarded them.

  "You know," he said, "I've heard the two of you go head to head more than once. But I don't think I've ever heard quite as specious an argument as this one." He paused. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to distract me from something."

  Bones and Spock exchanged glances. "I haven't the slightest idea of what he's talking about," McCoy commented. "Do you?"

  The Vulcan shook his head. "I too am at a loss."

  Kirk frowned. "Right. Uh-huh. Whatever you say."

  Turning back to face the viewscreen, he allowed himself a smile that neither of them could see. And also, a reflection. He was leaving much behind. But he was also taking much with him. After all, there were families—and there were families.

  Epilogue

  To KIRUC'S EYE, the observation post didn't seem nearly as ominous as on the occasion of his last visit. Of course, this time he knew for certain whom he was meeting, and why.

  Zibrat and Torgis must have felt much the same way. When he told them he had to approach the benighted complex alone, they didn't argue quite so much as they had before.

  The orange light was in the window again; Kiruc felt good as he approached it. A Andwhy shouldn't he? He'd accomplished all he set out to do, down to the last loose end.

  Even Karradh's wish had been satisfied. The first officer of the Fragh'ka was dead, killed in a hunting "accident," and the way was open for Karradh's son to replace him.

  Yes. I have done well, even if I must say so myself.

  As he got closer to the complex, he was able to discern silhouettes in the orange glow. Was it necessary to show them that he was unarmed? He chided himself instantly for even wondering. Of course it was. This was the emperor.

  No sooner had he raised his hands than Kapronek's bodyguards came out and encircled him. They were like carrion birds on a puris carcass, it seemed to Kiruc. A strange image underthe circumstances, but it seemed to fit.

  Disruptors in their hands, they escorted him the rest of the way to the main building. Again, the emperor was waiting for him. At the door, Kiruc observed, security was not as tight as before. There were only a couple of warriors stationed there. But then, the council was not the cauldron it had been a few weeks ago. Kapronek must not have been expecting any serious assassination attempts.

  Once the visitor was inside, the guards withdrew without being asked. Another sign of the improvement in the political climate, Kiruc mused.

  "You look well," the emperor noted.

  Kiruc wished he could say the same of Kapronek. Somehow, the man looked less massive than at their last meeting Less … imperial, somehow.

  "I thrive on serving my emperor," Kiruc replied. It was a correct thing to say.

  "Do you?" Kapronek harrumphed. "One thing is certain. Your emperor has thrived by your serving him. And your people as well." He frowned. "At least for the time being."

  Kiruc looked at him. "The time being, my lord? I thought the Gevish'rae threat had been defused by the abject failure of the Kad'nra and the resulting fall of Dumeric from the council."

  The emperor nodded. "Defused, yes. It will be some time before the Gevish'rae can successfully challenge me at court again." He paused. "But not forever. The Thirsting Knives will always be at our throats-always. They will never give up. That is the way of the predator. Indeed, it is the path of courage."

  Kiruc shook his head. "You make them sound almost … admirable."

  "I do admire them," said Kapronek. "I admire their hunger. Their perseverance. And I envy them their future—for someday we will not be so vigilant, and they will overwhelm us. We Kamorh'dag will fall to them as surely as grain falls to a scythe. That is a certainty."

  Kiruc found he had a bitter taste in his mouth. To contemplate eventual defeat, when victory was so fresh …

  But then, he was no emperor. Their minds worked differently than those of other men.

  "There is one detail that needs clearing up," he remarked. "The matter of Grael, the Gevish'rae who aided us at Pheranna. Should he be allowed to live?"

  Kapronek thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I should say so. He may be of use to us again sometime." His sea green eyes narrowed. "Yes, Grael will live."

  The intonation pattern suggested that someone else would die. Kiruc waited to hear who,butthe emperor said nothing. He only continued to stare at him. And slowly, gradually, Kiruc's blood turned to ice.

  "No," he muttered, struck by the injustice of it. "I served you well. You told me so yourself."

  "I have no complaint concerning the service you did me," Kapronek told him. "My complaint is with the service you did Karradh. You see, the first officer of the Fraghka was kin to me—though you could not have known that.

  "Kin?" Kiruc repeated numbly. "Kernod?"

  "Yes. A grandson, by a line that runs through one of my concubines. As I
said, you could not have known." His striking, pale eyes seemed to blaze for an instant with emerald fire. "Still, he was my grandson. And I cannot allow him to go unavenged."

  Kiruc swallowed. "Did Karradh know?"

  The emperor smiled grimly. "He may have."

  Then I was duped, Kiruc thought. Tricked into doing something for Karradh that he would never have dared do himself And all so his damned son could become a man

  He glanced out the window; all was darkness. But Torgis and Zibrat were out there somewhere. Now he knew why they hadn't put up much of a fight this time, when he'd ordered them to stay behind. Now he knew—nor did he blame them, really.

  Without thinking about it, he quoted Kahless out loud: "When one's emperor commands, all other loyalties become secondary. When one's emperor. commands, no sacrifice is too terrible, no price too great."

  Kapronek looked approving. "Very good. Also from the Ramen'aa, isn't it?"

  Kiruc nodded. "It is." He licked his lips. "May I have the option of dying with honor?"

  "You may," the emperor told him. "In your own home, if you wish. After all, you have earned it."

  Kiruc grunted. "I am grateful." He pounded his fist against his chest. "Good-bye, Kapronek."

  The emperor fixed him on the spit of his gaze. "Good-bye, Kiruc, son of Kalastra."

  As Kiruc turned and left the room, he cursed himself for his stupidity. How could he call himself a student of Kahless and not have remembered the most famous saying of all?

  Watch your back. Friends may become enemies in less time than it takes to draw a dagger.

  Grimacing at his own carelessness, he went out into the darkness.

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