The only solution, therefore, was to look closer.
Twenty teams had been dispatched to the planet in shuttles to facilitate the search. Thus far, none had reported any anomalous findings that might point to their quarry’s hiding place.
But T’Krek had learned patience.
As an added precaution, he had decided to keep their honored “guests” secured within quarters until their search was complete. He knew that once they found the infernal child and ended her life, B’Elanna would either kill him or, much more likely, die trying. He had tried repeatedly while en route to Davlos to make the emperor see that this was the only way. The qawHaq’hoch had survived this long only because they had a clear purpose, a destiny. From what Grapk and D’Kang had learned on Boreth, T’Krek no longer doubted that Miral Paris was the Kuvah’magh. Had they completed their appointed task, T’Krek would have been able to kill the child himself on Boreth. But at least his brother Warriors had done part of their job right. This meant that each man had lost only an arm by T’Krek’s hand when they had made their final report to him and offered him their lives for their failure.
But the emperor had refused to acknowledge T’Krek’s reasoning. This had been troubling, but not altogether unexpected. The emperor would say only that his interests were those of the empire. How the birth of a child who would call only destruction down upon them was meant to serve the empire, T’Krek could not understand, but Kahless had only looked at him with a benign sense of superiority when he made this point.
Perhaps T’Krek should try again.
Though he was unwilling to abandon the idea that they would eventually find the Kuvah’magh on Davlos, their victory would be that much sweeter should the emperor stand beside him when he cut the child’s throat.
T’Krek opened a comm channel.
“T’Krek to Emperor Kahless.”
There was no answer.
“Emperor Kahless, respond,” T’Krek ordered.
Again, silence.
T’Krek turned to the warrior manning operations.
“Ligerh, locate the emperor.”
Ligerh nodded and performed a quick scan.
“The emperor is in his quarters.”
“Is he alone?”
“No, Captain. B’Elanna Paris and Commander Logt are with him.”
T’Krek wasn’t going to grovel. Kahless might be the emperor, but this was his ship.
“Bring him to me,” T’Krek ordered.
Two minutes later a frantic voice came over the comm channel.
“Captain, this is M’Rent.”
“Report,” T’Krek said calmly.
“The emperor’s quarters are empty. A tricorder was adapted to display false life signs.”
T’Krek’s tone made the price of subsequent failure on M’Rent’s part painfully clear.
“Find them!”
CHAPTER NINE
B’Elanna’s first request, once she and Tom had shared an awkward embrace that promised a much longer conversation later, had been that the group adjourn to Voyager before discussing anything in detail.
She and Kahless had spent twenty minutes with Ambassador Worf before being escorted to the embassy conference room, briefly recounting the events of the last week. Logt had been busy at the time overseeing the transfer of the shuttle they had stolen from the Kortar to the custody of the Defense Force officer on duty at the orbital docking station above Qo’noS.
Both Janeway and Chakotay had greeted B’Elanna more warmly than Tom, and both had agreed immediately to her request. As Chakotay and Wu were finalizing the details, Worf reentered the conference room and headed straight for Kahless.
“The chancellor has asked me to advise you that you will have the full support of the Klingon Defense Force at your disposal in your continuing efforts to recover Miral Paris,” Worf announced.
Before Kahless could respond, B’Elanna cut him off. “Thank you, Mister Ambassador, but this is a family matter and I would prefer to handle it with Voyager’s help.”
Worf turned his grim visage to B’Elanna. “I apologize, Commander, but I was under the impression that Voyager would be returning to its previous mission. Of course, I can contact Starfleet Command and request other Federation support if you would prefer.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Chakotay intervened. “I’ve kept Starfleet apprised of our situation.”
Worf nodded.
“But you should know this, Mister Ambassador,” B’Elanna went on. “The Warriors of Gre’thor intend to find and murder my child. Should I cross paths with them again, I won’t hesitate to kill every last one of them to prevent that.”
To her surprise, Worf almost cracked a smile.
“Then you will need to act quickly if you intend to beat Martok to it,” he replied dryly.
The shock on B’Elanna’s face was apparently all the encouragement he needed to continue. “Until this afternoon, the chancellor was not aware that the Warriors of Gre’thor were still active. They have, from time to time, provided admirable service to the empire in the past, but only, it seems, when the mood strikes them. The chancellor intends to bring them to heel. They will fall in line, or they will be disbanded.”
Good luck with that, B’Elanna thought, catching Kahless’s eye and noting the subtle shake of his head, suggesting he also believed this would prove a difficult nut for the chancellor to crack.
Fifteen minutes later, Logt had rejoined them in Voyager’s main conference room. Also in attendance was the ship’s senior staff, including Harry Kim, who had almost wept with relief when he first laid eyes on B’Elanna, Operations Officer Lyssa Campbell, and the new ship’s doctor, a Trill named Jarem Kaz.
B’Elanna had heard a great deal about Kaz from Tom. Apparently his symbiont had shared a troubled personal history with the Changeling they had confronted at Loran II, and Kaz had almost died in their efforts to stop him.
He had also been of great service when Voyager had first returned to Earth and become embroiled in a covert plot by a deranged admiral to form a new Borg collective. This, it seemed, had been the impetus for Chakotay to request his assignment to Voyager on a permanent basis.
Both Tom and Chakotay thought highly of Doctor Kaz, though frankly B’Elanna wondered how he could ever replace the only doctor she had ever truly felt comfortable with, the ship’s former EMH.
The only other officer in the room whom B’Elanna had never met was the ship’s new counselor, Lieutenant Hugh Cambridge. He barely nodded to her when they were introduced and studiously kept his own counsel as B’Elanna and Kahless in turns brought everyone in the room up to speed regarding the events on Boreth and what they had discovered aboard the Kortar. Only when Kahless shared his belief that the qawHaq’hoch were responsible for Miral’s kidnapping did a faint “Interesting” escape Cambridge’s lips involuntarily. A sharp glance from Chakotay was met with a withering nod, and Cambridge retreated into silence.
Kahless glossed over their escape from the Kortar, as if it had been a mere inconvenience. B’Elanna’s recollection of barely managing to rig her tricorder to fool the ship’s sensors and the subsequent hours she, Kahless, and Logt had spent crawling through the ship’s maintenance tubes to reach the shuttlebay undetected was more colorful than Kahless’s version, but she was happy to banish it, along with Logt’s quick dispatch of the guards who had been assigned to the cloak-equipped shuttle they ultimately stole, to the realm of bad memories.
Tom seethed quietly by her side. The only two people in the room who seemed to be even cognizant of the tension flaring between them were B’Elanna and Cambridge, who glanced at Tom several times with a bemused expression. He appeared to be attempting to calculate just how long it would take before Tom’s patience with the proceedings came to an end. When it finally did, Cambridge actually checked his chronometer and nodded to himself, suggesting that his estimate had been accurate.
“So if the sanctuary isn’t on Davlos, then where the hell is it?” Tom said
, once Kahless had finished describing their escape from T’Krek’s vessel.
“And how long before the Warriors of Gre’thor realize they’re looking in the wrong place?” Harry added, clearly trying to assess the dangers Voyager might face now that they had become part of the equation.
“While we were on the Kortar, I was able to do a thorough analysis of the Hal’korin bat’leths,” B’Elanna said, picking up her part of the story.
“And one of them was a forgery,” Cambridge interjected.
“That’s right,” B’Elanna said, unable to hide her surprise.
“How did you know that?” Chakotay asked sharply.
“There have been numerous accounts over the years of weapons designed by Hal’korin that later turned out to be fogeries,” Cambridge replied. “Unless I’m much mistaken, Hal’korin’s weapons still fetch considerable sums in any illegal weapons market. Her swords, in particular, are highly prized, hence the the proliferation of fakes. Bat’leths like the ones she’s describing would be considered museum pieces today, and definitely priceless.”
“So how does that help us find Miral?” Tom said pointedly to B’Elanna.
“Since the impurities in the swords provide the key to decoding the markings on the monument, only the true bat’leths can give you the right answer,” B’Elanna replied evenly. “T’Krek’s calculations could be off by hundreds of light-years. The forged bat’leth was acquired only thirty years ago from a man named Kopek.”
“Do we know where he is?” Tom demanded.
“He is now a member of the Klingon High Council,” Kahless replied, “and as soon as we are done here I will contact him to discuss his dealings with the Warriors of Gre’thor.” There was no mistaking the ominous tone in Kahless’s voice.
As B’Elanna briefly considered how glad she was not to be Kopek right now, a voice sounded over the comm system.
“Bridge to Captain Chakotay.”
“Go ahead.”
“We are being hailed by the Klingon Ambassador to the Federation. His personal ship had just entered orbit and he had two representatives from the Federation Research Institute on board who are requesting immediate transport to Voyager.”
Chakotay and Janeway immediately exchanged a knowing smile. Janeway rose from her place and said, “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’ll meet them in the transporter room and bring them up to speed.”
B’Elanna was briefly puzzled until she remembered that Seven and the Doctor had joined the institute several months earlier. Though part of her felt she should wait for their arrival before continuing, the expectant faces of the others convinced her to continue.
“I brought the eleven true bat’leths with me,” B’Elanna said, “leaving T’Krek with replicated fakes. All we have to do is find the final sword of Hal’korin and take them all to the actual sanctuary on Qo’noS.”
“That is, of course…” Cambridge began, then with a deferential glance at Chakotay, asked, “May I?” Chakotay nodded, and Cambride went on, “Assuming that the qawHaq’hoch are in fact responsible for Miral’s abduction.”
“They are,” B’Elanna shot back automatically.
“That remains to be seen,” Cambridge replied.
“What makes you think they aren’t?” Tom asked harshly.
B’Elanna reached for his hand, and he just as quickly pulled it away.
Cambridge shot an appraising glance at Kahless before continuing, “Forgive me, Emperor, but the last tangible proof that the qawHaq’hoch even exist is over eight hundred years old. There was a dispute over the rightful inheritance in two ancient Houses, and the qawHaq’hoch were contacted to mediate because at the time, it was common knowledge that their records of all Klingon lineages were the most accurate in the empire, and the least tainted by any political intrigues. Their data files of the Houses were produced and the dispute was settled, but not before there was an attack, undoubtedly by the Warriors of Gre’thor, and all representatives of the order present at the mediation were killed. Since that time, no verifiable record acknowledging any activity by the qawHaq’hoch has been discovered.”
“Is this true?” B’Elanna asked Kahless.
“It is,” he replied. “However, they remain, in my estimation, the most likely to have committed this crime.”
“Your estimation?” Tom asked with evident frustration.
“The emperor is right about one thing,” Cambridge said in a more conciliatory tone. “Of all the various sects known throughout Klingon history to have taken the prophecies about the Kuvah’magh seriously, the qawHaq’hoch were the most adamant in their faith. It’s difficult to imagine that they could have existed, undetected all these years, but not impossible. The hypothesis would be more sustainable if we also possessed evidence that the first sign of the joH’a mu’qaD had come to pass. I find it hard to believe that anything else might have caused the qawHaq’hoch to act so precipitously and thereby risk revealing themselves after all this time.”
“The first sign has come to pass,” Kahless assured Cambridge.
“Really, sir?” he asked, clearly intrigued. “Can you prove this?”
“What is he talking about?” Tom interjected.
“I’ll explain later,” B’Elanna said.
“Or I could explain now,” an imperious voice from the doorway said.
B’Elanna turned.
“Don’t you mean we could explain?” the Doctor corrected Seven of Nine, who stood beside him in the entryway. Admiral Janeway ushered them into the room as the Doctor went on, “The Klingon ambassador was kind enough to give us a lift when he was apprised of our mission and its sensitive nature,” the Doctor added.
“We were reluctant to transmit our findings to you, even over encrypted channels,” Seven went on, “as we could not be certain that they would not be intercepted. The ambassador’s was the first and quickest transport we were able to obtain.”
“Yes, Ambassador Lantar was quite accommodating,” the Doctor replied too ironically to be taken seriously.
“If you hadn’t insisted upon trying to bend his ear every five minutes of our journey,” Seven began to chide him.
“Thank you both,” Chakotay interrupted, ending further discussion of this unhelpful topic. “I’m sure I speak for everyone here when I say welcome aboard and thank you for coming. Any information you can provide will certainly be most helpful.”
As the Doctor took a moment to greet his old comarades and to introduce himself to Cambridge and the emperor, Seven addressed herself to B’Elanna.
“I am pleased to find you unharmed,” she said with compassion, which almost startled B’Elanna.
“Thank you, Seven.”
“I can assure you that I have no intention of regenerating until we are able to locate Miral.”
B’Elanna was so moved by this sentiment that she was unable to find words. She nodded gratefully, after which Seven moved to the room’s display monitor, where she quickly downloaded a data padd.
Once everyone present had quieted, Seven began, “Several years ago the institute where the Doctor and I are currently working was asked to analyze the genomes of three Klingon children who were born with a birth defect which until that point had never before been seen.”
Images of the childen appeared on the screen behind her. The collective intake of breath from most of those around the table assured her that she had everyone’s complete attention.
“As you can see, these children appear to be severely deformed. Their cranial ridges are overdeveloped, distorting the facial structure, and the teeth, particularly these paired incisors which protrude through the upper and lower jaws, are overly elongated and pronounced.”
Doctor Kaz rose quietly from the table and moved closer to the screen to study the display more carefully.
“Of course, the more serious defects are not obvious,” the Doctor said, crossing to stand beside Seven. “Malformations in the brain and hormonal imbalances resulted in the absence of all high
er reasoning functions, while elevating their natural aggression. Had these children survived, they would have developed into creatures driven purely by instinct—quite ferocious and extremely dangerous.”
“What happened to them?” Doctor Kaz asked.
“The individual who requested our group’s assistance did so anonymously,” Seven replied. “But we were advised that all three of the children died prior to the inquiry.”
B’Elanna had been unable to tear her eyes from the screen from the moment Seven had brought up the image of the children. Though she had never been one to take Klingon mythology too seriously, particularly before their encounter with Kohlar in the Delta quadrant, she had to admit that had she seen this image in any other context, only one thought would have entered her mind.
“Fek’lhr,” she said softly.
Paris rose from the table, unable to contain himself any longer.
“Would someone for the love of all that’s holy please tell me what this has to do with my daughter?”
“Tom, please,” B’Elanna said, turning her fear-filled eyes to his.
“It’s quite simple, Mister Paris,” Cambridge said. “Klingon apocrypha say that the empire will only be destroyed by the joH’a mu’qaD, or ‘Curse of the Gods.’ Two signs precede this curse: the rebirth of Fek’lhr, a creature well known in Klingon mythology as the beast that guards the gates of Gre’thor, followed by the birth of the Kuvah’magh. The only Klingons known who still take these prophecies seriously are the qawHaq’hoch and their historic enemies, the Warriors of Gre’thor. Given the fact that both signs have arguably now come to pass, it seems only likely that both groups would believe that the pending apocalypse will follow briskly on their heels.” Turning to Kahless, he went on, “Your reasoning about the identity of Miral’s kidnappers is indeed most sound, sir. Only one question remains.”
“What is that?” Kahless asked.
Star Trek: Voyager®: Full Circle Page 12
