A whooshing sound, and then B’Oraq found herself thrown backward for the second time in ten minutes. The hatch to the aft compartment had collapsed, and the fires from the thrusters that had built up back there exploded into the fore compartment.
Ignoring the pain in her head, the nausea that started to well up her throat, and the way the aircar was suddenly jumping all around, B’Oraq signaled the Gorkon to have her and the body next to her beamed up.
As soon as the transporter beam caught her, she felt relief at being out of the heat of the fire. Materializing in the comparative cool of the medical bay was a relief. But why did the nausea remain? And her head was pounding…
“B’Oraq to…to K’Nir.”
“Doctor?”
“Signal the…the Imperial Guard ship hovering over Novat…tell them they’re…they’re authorized to…to put the fire out.”
“Yes, Doctor. And Commander Kurak wishes to speak to you.”
Two Valatras walked up to her and said, “B’Oraq?”
“I’m fine, Valatra, I—”
Then the world went black.
Fifteen
Imperial Intelligence shuttlecraft D’jaq
Interstellar space
Both Tokath and Ba’el asked to be allowed to accompany Toq to find Gorrik. Carraya was their home, and it was gone now. Tokath had said, “I have nowhere else to go,” and Ba’el had said she would stay with her father. Toq had objected to Ba’el coming but did so only to Tokath, not wishing to offend his childhood friend.
“Where would you have her go, Toq?” Tokath had asked him. “If she travels to either of our empires, she will be an outcast. There is only one place where she would be welcome, and that place was destroyed.”
“She could go to the Federation. Ambassador Worf—”
That had brought Tokath up short. “Ambassador Worf?”
“Yes. He is now the Federation ambassador to the empire, and he could easily facilitate her entry into—”
In a cold and quiet voice that Toq knew meant the old Romulan was greatly displeased, Tokath had then said, “She will not live in the Federation, and she will not do anything facilitated by that veruul.”
Toq should have realized that Tokath would hold a bit of a grudge, since Worf’s presence had badly disrupted life on Carraya.
His retuning of the sensors having been a success, Toq had gone with Tokath and Ba’el into one of Lorgh’s shuttles, the D’jaq, and set a course along the warp trail of Gorrik’s ship.
There was only one star system on the projected course: the Kovris system, which was even farther outside Klingon space than Carraya was. At the D’jaq’s maximum speed, it would take two days to reach it.
Ba’el was sleeping in the aft compartment when Toq finally asked Tokath the question he’d been wondering about for several years now. “Why did you keep the camp a secret?”
“You know the reasons, Toq. The disgrace—”
“No, I mean after the Dominion War began—after the Romulans joined the alliance against the Dominion. Why keep it a secret then? Why hide from the war that—”
“Hiding from the war was the camp’s reason for existing, Toq.”
Toq let out a breath through his teeth. “But there was no war! Yes, there were tensions between our peoples—there always have been, and I suspect there always will be. But the Dominion threatened the entire quadrant. Once there truly was a war—”
“That was not our concern,” Tokath said calmly. “The only effect the war had on us was that the supply ships came less often. But we made do, as we always did.”
Putting the D’jaq on autopilot, he turned to face Tokath, who sat in the copilot’s seat. There were four seats in this front compartment, with four bunks in the rear, and very little space to move around. “What would you have done if the war found you? The front lines of the battle were in the Bajoran sector, which is only a few light-years from here.”
“No one knew of this place, save for—”
“A few Romulans. And if the Dominion conquered Romulus? Your people entered the war because of intelligence that the Vorta were targeting your homeworld. One civilian ship was able to destroy everything you built in less than an hour. What do you think would have happened if it was a Jem’Hadar strike ship?”
Slowly, his deep voice like ice, Tokath said, “But it was not, Toq. Even as conflict raged all across the stars, we remained safe.” Tokath looked away from Toq, staring out of the viewscreen. “When we find this Gorrik, I will learn who it is who betrayed us before I kill him.”
“That is my desire as well,” Toq said, also facing forward again, disengaging the autopilot. “First blood should go to you, as leader of the camp.”
Tokath gave a half smile at that. “How very Klingon of you.”
“I am a Klingon, Tokath.”
“More’s the pity.”
Putting the autopilot back on, Toq whirled on the man who once ruled his existence. “I am proud of what I have accomplished! I am a warrior in the Defense Force, first officer of one of the finest ships in the fleet. I am also a champion hunter. I became alive in the empire, Tokath, in a way I never could have living on your prison camp.”
Continuing to look straight ahead, Tokath said, “Yet you kept our secret. Why?”
Toq could not believe he could even ask the question. “I gave you my word, as did Worf and all those who went with him. Did you think so little of us that you expected us to go back on it? We left Carraya because we wanted to be more Klingon, not less.”
“It has been my experience that Klingon honor is observed more in theory than it is when faced with the realities of life.”
Readjusting the D’jaq’s course slightly, Toq said, “I have observed that as well—occasionally. But you knew us, Tokath.”
Now, Tokath looked at him again. “Yes, I did know you once, Toq. And I saw the person I once knew transform before my very eyes into a stranger. You lived among us for all your young life up to that point, yet a few days with that Worf creature, and you betrayed us.”
Aghast, Toq said, “I never betrayed you! Worf simply opened my eyes to—”
“To what? Hunting like a cave dweller? Embracing violence like some kind of animal? Nonsense stories about an impossible honor told around primitive camp-fires?” Tokath shook his head. “When I offered to house the Khitomer survivors, I did it because I could offer them a better life than the one they left behind.”
Toq stared for several seconds at Tokath. “I never realized.”
“Realized what?” Tokath asked, eyebrow raised.
“You really hate us.”
“Of course not, Toq, I—”
Throwing up his arms, Toq asked, “What else am I to make of the contempt with which you dismiss the very heart of what makes us—of what makes me a Klingon?” He shook his head. “All my life, I respected you. Do you know that I was just yesterday thinking about how living with you made me appreciate Romulans far more than my fellow Klingons, who view you with nothing but contempt?”
“And can you express this appreciation openly? Or do you risk being stabbed in a back alley duel?” Tokath’s contempt dripped from his every word.
“Sometimes,” Toq said, remembering more than one mess hall conversation with Leskit and Rodek on that very subject. “And I have that appreciation because of you. I see Romulans as people, not as enemies to be despised.” Turning away from Tokath, he said, “I had hoped that respect was returned. I see now that I was a fool to think that—and I must wonder if that respect is truly deserved.”
“I did what no one else has done, Toq. Nowhere else in history have Romulans and Klingons lived in peace as they did on Carraya.”
“Yes, they have, Tokath. The Klingons and Romulans are allies now and have been since the war.”
“An alliance of necessity—oh, yes, Toq, I am familiar with what happened. But there was no respect between our two peoples, only uniting against a common foe. The war has been over less than a ye
ar. I can assure you that within another year, our people will be at each other’s throats once again.”
Toq stared at Tokath, and he realized that, just as Worf opened his eyes that day on the hunt and allowed him to see for the first time, he was now truly seeing Tokath for what he was. “Our people did not live side by side. Our parents were your prisoners. And we were not allowed to be Klingons. We were no different from the Romulans in the camp. When Worf gave his word to you, you scoffed, as if honor meant nothing to you—and now I realize that it does. We were not living in harmony, Tokath, we were assimilated!”
Tokath rose quickly to his feet. “I will not be judged by you, Toq—you who abandoned your home, and for what? Honor? Glory? Of what use are such commodities?”
“If you have to ask that question, then you do not understand us.”
“I am not a Klingon, Toq. I am under no obligation to understand you—nor do I particularly want to.”
“Why not?” Toq also got up, wishing to look Tokath in the face. “You accepted the responsibility of caring for the Khitomer survivors. It seems to me that you should have at least attempted to learn of our ways.” He smiled. “Unless, of course, you were only a jailer, and we were only your prisoners. In which case, can you blame me for wanting to escape, once I saw your cage for what it was?”
Tokath apparently had nothing to say to that, for he got up without a word and moved to the aft section.
Left alone, Toq sat back down and pulled out the padd Lorgh had given him, which had the complete dossier on the House of Gannik.
As he read on, Toq grew confused. Then he grew angry—even more than he had been when speaking to Tokath.
The aft door rumbled aside, and Ba’el came out. “Hello, Toq.” She sat in the copilot’s seat that her father had vacated.
“You do not wish to remain with your father?”
Ba’el stared at the viewscreen. “I love the way the stars streak by like that.”
“They are not truly moving,” Toq said. “It is merely the distortion of warp space.”
“I understand the theory, Toq,” Ba’el said with an annoyed glance. Then she looked back at the stars. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying the past few years. But sometimes it’s nice just to look and enjoy what you see instead of trying to look below the surface.”
“You have become philosophical.”
“I’ve had a lot of time to myself—it makes it easy to think.”
Toq stared at her. “What do you mean?”
Ba’el took a deep breath. Toq hadn’t really been paying attention before, as he was focused on larger concerns, but Ba’el’s eyes, which used to be bright and cheerful, were now sad and lonely.
After several moments, she finally answered his question. “After you left, Father and I stopped speaking. He said that if it weren’t for me, Worf wouldn’t have been able to do what he did. And I don’t think he forgave me joining you and the others in the group to be sacrificed with Worf.” She gave a small smile, but it was a sad one. “Or what I asked him afterward.”
Gently, Toq said, “What did you ask him?”
Still staring at the stars, Ba’el said, “I asked him, ‘Would you have given the order if I hadn’t stood with them?’ ” Now she looked at Toq, and her eyes were sadder than ever. “To this day, he hasn’t answered. We’ve hardly spoken since.”
And yet, he threw himself over you, intending to sacrifice his own life in the hope of saving yours. Toq wondered if Ba’el realized that but thought it best not to bring it up. It wasn’t as if he had any great desire to effect a reconciliation between these two, given his recent conversation with Tokath.
Ba’el stared ahead again. “Mother left him after that. Oh, she stayed in the camp, obviously—until one day she took that rusty d’k tahg out of its trunk and plunged it into her chest.”
Toq’s eyes widened, and he felt a rumbling in his stomachs. “Gi’ral killed herself?”
Ba’el snorted. “Her last words were that her place in Gre’thor had been guaranteed from the day she was captured. Assuming you believe that. I certainly don’t. After you left, those of us who stayed behind asked L’Kor to tell us more of the stories Worf told us, and I learned all about the afterlife and honor and Kahless. And they’re good stories—L’Kor didn’t tell them as well as Worf did, but I enjoyed them.” She looked away. “I can’t believe them, though. Not the way Worf did.”
Toq leaned toward her. “Do you wish to know the truth? I do not believe them, either.”
Ba’el stared at him. “And here I thought you’d completely transformed yourself.”
“Not completely. Oh, when I am among my fellow warriors, then I speak as if I believe in Sto-Vo-Kor and Gre’thor, and when my comrades die in battle, I pry their eyes open and scream a warning to the Black Fleet that another warrior is crossing the River of Blood.” He let out a sigh. “But I do not truly believe it. When you die, you die.”
“Like everyone on Carraya,” Ba’el said in a whisper that Toq imagined was a haunted one.
“I know,” Toq said in almost as quiet a voice. “I still have trouble believing it is true.”
“I watched them die, Toq. All of them.” She turned her sad eyes to look at him. “I’ve never seen anyone die before. It’s so different than what I was expecting.” Again, she looked out at the stars. “The only home I’ve ever known is gone, Toq. I suppose this is how Worf felt.”
Frowning, Toq asked, “What do you mean?”
“After Khitomer. That was another story L’Kor finally told us: about thousands of Klingons who died at the Khitomer outpost thanks to a Romulan attack. An attack that my father was a part of. Even if we were speaking then, we would not have been after that. I cannot look at my father without seeing a murderer. All those people—including Worf’s parents.” She stared at Toq. “You know, he never told me?”
“Who?”
“Worf. Never once did he tell me that his parents were killed at Khitomer.” She shook her head. “So much made sense after that. Once L’Kor told me that, I realized that Worf would never have been able to live with us. Even if Father wasn’t the one directly responsible, he was part of what took his parents away from him.” Ba’el stared at Toq. “You said ‘fellow warriors,’ Toq, and you’re wearing a soldier’s uniform. What are you now that you no longer try to spy on me when I bathe?”
Toq looked away. “You knew I did that?”
“I could hardly not. You were never very subtle, Toq.”
“Perhaps not. At first, I was taken in by a family friend of Worf’s—Lorgh, the man who commanded the ship that rescued you and Tokath. I harnessed my hunting skills for many turns and soon attained championship standing.”
“Worf chose his hunting partner well,” Ba’el said.
Toq went on, telling her of his enlistment in the Defense Force during the Dominion War and his assignment to the Gorkon after the war’s end. “A blind old razorbeast named Kegren served as second officer—until I challenged him. After I slew his honorless self, Captain Klag made me his replacement.”
“You killed him?” Ba’el shook her head. “And this is how you advance in rank?”
“One of the ways, and only when the warrior in question is unworthy. I became first officer after the previous one, Kornan, died nobly in battle. I am honored to carry on for him and to speak for the crew.”
“It sounds so…so brutal. You advance through the death of others.”
Toq shrugged. “We are warriors. Battle is our life.”
“Farming used to be your life.”
Smiling, Toq said, “After that, it was hunting. If I have learned anything, Ba’el, it is that life is never constant.”
“What about Worf?” she asked.
Toq quickly filled Ba’el in on Worf’s life since Carraya. She looked disheartened when Toq said that he had married, yet sad when he told her that his mate died a year later. However, she was not at all surprised at his new career as a diplomat.
“It’s a good use of his skills,” Ba’el said. “I didn’t see it then, but looking back on it now? He manipulated everyone in that camp in order to get his way. So he represents the Klingon Empire?”
“No. He serves as the Federation ambassador to the empire.”
“The which ambassador?”
Blinking, Toq said, “The Federation. That is where Worf has lived most of his life. He was six when he was at Khitomer, and he was rescued by a Starfleet vessel and brought to live in—”
Now Ba’el’s eyes were a mass of confusion. “Toq, what are you talking about?”
“Ba’el,” Toq said slowly, “there are others in the galaxy besides Klingons and Romulans. The United Federation of Planets is a nation of many species, and there is also the Cardassian Union, the Breen Confederacy, the Tholian Assembly, the Ferengi Alliance, the—”
Holding up her hands, Ba’el almost screamed. “Stop! Toq, this is madness!”
“No, it is not. I have met these people—in some cases fought against them, in others fought by their side. There was a great war, where an empire from halfway across the galaxy—”
“Stop!” Ba’el got to her feet, her hands still raised as if defending herself from an attack. “Why did no one tell me of this?”
“I was surprised, too.” Toq also rose and reached around her upraised arms to put his hands on her shoulders. “But that is the way of the universe. And you must adapt to it.”
Ba’el closed her eyes. “I do not believe it. Yet another lie.” She stared back at the aft door. “I should never have stayed. I should have left with Worf, but I wanted to remain with my family. Besides, was there truly a place for me out there where Klingons and Romulans hated each other?” She shook her head. “But now you tell me there is more to the galaxy. I had other choices besides my parents’ two worlds, didn’t I?” She scrubbed her face with her hands. “Worf offered to take me with him—had I known he meant to this Federation, I might have said yes. And it’s not like my family was worth staying for,” she added bitterly.
A Burning House Page 15
