Текст книги "Serpents Among the Ruins "

Автор книги: David George

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Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Her hand closed on empty air.

Did I neglect to arm myself?she thought. Or did Gorak somehow disarm me?

Before her, the general dropped to his knees, and now she saw the blade—not her d’k tahg,another sort of knife—sticking from his neck. As she watched, his hands clutched at the handle and tried to pull it out. Blood coursed through his fingers and down the front of his uniform. A gurgling sound escaped him, and a glistening purplish bubble of saliva formed on his lips. After a few seconds, he dropped backward and fell still.

Behind her, Azetbur heard footsteps. She did not have to turn around to see who it was. General Kaarg had suggested that she not be alone when she met with Gorak, and now one of his staff—a tall, heavily muscled man named Morahg—walked out around the dais, from where she had left him in her study. He squatted beside Gorak’s head and reached toward him. Azetbur thought that Morahg would remove the blade, but instead he pulled a black, studded glove from his own hand and placed two fingers by Gorak’s nose and mouth. She did not see any breath above Gorak’s face in the still-cold room.

“This is more than taking a ‘precaution,’ ” Azetbur said. She understood Morahg’s loyalty to Kaarg and therefore to her, and she would have killed Gorak herself if it had come to that, but she did not like this action being taken without her sanction. She told Morahg as much.

“Gorak was an enemy,” he said, sliding his massive hand back into his glove.

“I know that,” Azetbur said, “And General Kaarg and you know that, but many people don’t.” As she spoke, Morahg took hold of Gorak’s sword, moved it to the right, then drew a d’k tahgfrom the dead general’s side. “We are alone in my office,” she went on. “This is going to require an explanation.”

Morahg put his hands on his knees and pushed himself upward, rising to his considerable height. “The explanation is simple,” he said. “I killed Gorak after he attacked the chancellor of the Klingon Empire.” He held up the d’k tahg.“After he attacked you with this.”

“Of course,” Azetbur said, but she thought about all of the other details that they would have to provide about exactly what had happened here. She peered down at the lifeless form of Gorak, and she had to admit that she felt relieved at his death. “I think—” she began, but then fire sliced through her chest. Her hand fell from the walking stick and it slammed to the floor. Looking down, she saw the hilt of a knife protruding from her chest. “What—?” She looked up at Morahg.

“Gorak was an enemy,” he repeated. “If you were to have died, Chancellor, then he would likely have succeeded you. And with his reputation, and his popularity among the Klingon Defense Force, he would have been difficult to unseat. Now, in death, he will be a coward and a traitor.”

Azetbur looked back down at the knife that had buried itself in her body. Attempting to ignore the pain, she grasped the haft and pulled. As the blade came free, she cried out, the pain excruciating. She collapsed to the floor, barely able to bring one hand up in time to prevent herself from striking her head.

Above her, she saw the vaulted ceiling of her office. Her vision narrowed, black areas seeping in around the edges. Small tufts of white curled above her and vanished, the vapors of her breathing, now coming in short wheezes.

She wondered if Morahg had turned on General Kaarg, but then realized that she had made a terrible mistake in accepting Kaarg as an ally, in trusting in his loyalty. She recalled all the subtle and overt signs of that loyalty, now so obviously meant to deceive. A backroom planner,some called him, mocking his choice to win battles through careful strategy, rather than through force. He had convinced her that Gorak had been plotting against her, had—

Kage,she thought, and the realization caused more agony than the knife had. Had her friend also betrayed her? Kage had told her that Ditagh had revealed the name of Gorak as the traitor they had suspected. Had he been lying, or had Ditagh?

“Di…Ditagh,” she managed to say.

Morahg’s face appeared above her. “I am Ditagh,” he said, a smile contorting his features. “And I play the role of the fool well. I serve General Kaarg…who will be, with you and Gorak gone, the obvious next chancellor of the Klingon Empire.”

As Azetbur lay dying, she thought of her people, of the recent progress made through the isolationism of the Romulans and the alliance with the Federation. That Kaarg had maneuvered Gorak, had maneuvered her, seemed immaterial compared to the question of what would befall the Empire now. Would Kaarg dissolve the pact with the Federation? Would he resume the push to war just recently abandoned by the Romulans? Would he undo all the progress she had made over all these years?

Ditahg continued talking—she could see his lips moving—but she barely heard his voice, as though he spoke from far away. Her breath, which had been visible in the cold room, had gone now. She resisted death, not because she feared it, but because she did not want to leave her people. She had led them for so long now, protected them, guided them, the responsibility for their safekeeping left to her by her father—

Father.

Her heart flew as she realized that soon, in Sto-Vo-Kor,she would finally see him again.

I’m going to see Father,she thought.

I’m going to—

I’m—

And then nothing.

As Commander Demora Sulu gazed at the stars gliding by on the main viewscreen of the Enterprisebridge, she had to stifle a yawn. She did not feel tired, though. After her shift ended, she still planned on joining the primary command staff—Linojj, Buonarroti, Morell, Tenger, Kanchumurthi, and Tolek—for a gathering to bid farewell to Ensign Fenn; Sulu also hoped that Captain Harriman would join them, although he had been somewhat reclusive of late. Borona would be leaving the ship tomorrow, beginning a leave of absence that would last at least two months, as she returned to her homeworld to undergo the Shift.

During the last few weeks, as Dr. Morell had been able to determine an accurate timeline for Borona’s condition, Sulu had attempted to learn more about it, beyond what little she had already learned from the doctor, the captain, and Borona herself. She hadn’t found much literature about the Shift, but the few pieces she had read all indicated that the process could be extremely painful—and not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. That didn’t surprise her. When she thought about herself, she could say that she had been substantially the same person for all of her adult life. She had certainly changed as she’d learned new things, and as she’d grown older and more experienced, but such changes had been gradual, and largely a matter of her own choosing. But Borona had no choice in what she would go through. Sulu hoped that the young woman would be able to get through the experience as well as possible, and that once she had undergone the Shift, that she would still be the same person. For apparently not every Shift went well, and not every Frunalian who went through the process emerged recognizable as who they’d previously been. And in a few cases, some Frunalians did not retain their sanity.

Borona would be disembarking the ship tomorrow, once Enterprisehad arrived at Starbase 77. From there, she would take a transport bound for home. The Enterprisecrew, on the other hand, would remain at the base for three days while special scientific equipment was installed on board.

Other than having to say goodbye to Borona, Sulu actually looked forward to reaching Starbase 77, because the ship’s next mission would launch from there. Enterprisewould head out into uncharted space, toward the Röntgen Wall, an unexplained cosmological anomaly. Unlike so many of the ship’s assignments for so long now, this would be a mission purely of exploration. The anticipation among the crew in the past few days had become palpable; the notion of doing something other than patrolling the Neutral Zone or conducting defense drills or delivering weapons to military outposts had everybody excited.

I just hope it hasn’t been canceled,she thought suddenly, recalling the eyes-only transmission that Captain Harriman had earlier received from Starfleet Command. Politically and militarily, though, the last three months—since the destruction of Foxtrot Sector—had been relatively calm. The last month in particular—since the treaty had been signed and ratified—had been extremely peaceful. Although the accord contained little goodwill within it, it had already begun to serve its purpose. The Koltaari had been freed and were now receiving aid from the Federation, and the Romulans had retreated into their empire and closed their borders. Nobody knew how long the latter development would last, but with the strong relationship between the Federation and the Klingons, the consensus was that the Romulans would stay away, at least for some time. Sulu certainly hoped that would be the case.

To her right, the starboard turbolift doors opened, and Ensigns DeYoung and Verant entered the bridge. Sulu glanced down at the display in the arm of the command chair and saw just three minutes left before the end of the shift. She stood up and greeted both officers, then quickly reviewed ship and crew status with DeYoung, who relieved her.

“Ship’s lounge,” she said as she entered the turbolift. She would miss Borona, but she had been looking forward to this gathering tonight. She wanted very much to spend some downtime with these people whom she considered her second family.

“Harriman to Sulu,”came the captain’s voice over the comm system.

“This is Sulu,” she said. “Go ahead, Captain.”

“Commander,”he said, “would you please meet me in my quarters?”

She considered asking if whatever issue the captain wanted to discuss could wait until tomorrow, but then decided against it. “I’ll be right there,” she said, and after the captain had signed off, she restated her destination for the turbolift. She wondered why the captain wanted to see her so late in the day.

As the lift descended, Sulu thought about the captain. She had been concerned about him since he’d returned to Enterprise.She had hoped that after the success of his mission aboard Tomed,and after he had mourned his father, that he would rebound from the incredible pressures he had obviously been feeling in the months leading up to recent events. Instead, he had continued to be less talkative, less social, than usual, and more reticent, more solitary. She had thought that perhaps he needed to talk about all that he had been through, and he had talked a little bit about it with her, but not much—not enough. And there were very few people with whom he could discuss all that had happened; as far as she knew, only six people had knowledge of every step of the mission: Harriman and Sulu, Starfleet Commander in Chief Admiral Sinclair-Alexander, Admiral Mentir, Commander Gravenor, and Lieutenant Vaughn. The small team that had “created” hyperwarp drive and mounted it in an existing prototype starship, and the skeleton crew aboard Agamemnonwho’d installed the life-signs generators at the abandoned outposts, had been aware only of their own roles, but nothing beyond that.

As the turbolift slowed its descent, and then accelerated horizontally, Sulu wondered if the captain felt guilty. He had likely saved billions by his actions, averting a war that virtually everybody had considered inevitable. But he had also done some things in the furtherance of that goal that might be disturbing him. For one thing, he had helped hide the deaths of Starfleet officers during the year or so prior to the mission, so that real people with real histories could be included among the rolls of those who’d supposedly perished aboard Universe,the Foxtrot outposts, and Agamemnon.And for another thing, Harriman and his team had been responsible for the deaths of six Romulans aboard Tomed.Had Vokar and the others not remained aboard, then none of them would have died, and only Vokar would have paid a price; for if he had evacuated Tomedbefore the ship had decimated the outposts, then he still would have been believed responsible for the attacks, and the Klingons would still have sided with the Federation against the Romulans.

And on top of all that, the captain had lost his father. Sulu knew that the two had been estranged for almost twenty years, but she also believed that the captain had nevertheless loved his father. It probably hurt him a great deal to know that any hope of ever reconciling had now been taken away for good.

The turbolift eased to a stop, and Sulu exited into the corridor, heading for the captain’s cabin. She thought about what she had told him his father’s last words to her had been. She wondered now if that had been the right thing to do—perhaps it had simply made the situation harder for the captain, causing him to miss his father more, or to take himself to task for not having attempted to reconcile with the elder Harriman. But she had made that choice, and she could do nothing now to change that. Given the opportunity to do things differently, though, she felt that she would do just what she had done.

She arrived at the captain’s cabin and touched the door chime. A moment later, the door withdrew into the bulkhead. Captain Harriman stood in the middle of the room, and he invited her inside.

“How are you tonight, Captain?” she asked as she entered.

“I’m doing very well,” he said, motioning her toward a chair. “How are you?”

Sulu smiled, pleased to see him in such good spirits. “I’m doing very well too,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa. Harriman sat down in a chair across from her. “I was just on my way to a small farewell gathering for Ensign Fenn.” She paused, and then added, “I’d hoped that you might join us.”

“Actually,” he said, “I already stopped by the lounge, but I had to come back here to speak with Starfleet Command.”

“I hope that our mission to investigate the Röntgen Wall hasn’t been canceled,” she said.

“No, it hasn’t,” the captain said, “but there has been a slight change of plan.”

“Oh,” Sulu said, feeling immediately disappointed.

“A change made at my request,” Harriman added. He stood back up and paced across the room, as though with nervous energy. He seemed to be in a strange frame of mind.

“Demora,” he said, “I miss my father.”

“Oh,” she said again, surprised at the apparent non sequitor. “That’s understandable.”

“Maybe,” he said. “You know that we weren’t close…that we didn’t even talk beyond professional communications. But he was my father, and even if we were apart, I always knew that he was out there somewhere. Now…well, it’s hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Sulu said, feeling bad for her friend.

Harriman walked back across the room. “I’ve really enjoyed my time aboard Enterprise,”he said, seeming to change the direction of the conversation again. “As a boy, growing up on Starfleet vessels, that was the only world I knew. And it’s obviously still the one I know best.”

“I think that shows in your command,” Sulu told him. “You’re an exceptional captain, John.”

“Thank you,” he said. “A lot of credit has to go to the crew. And to the best first officer in the fleet.” Sulu inclined her head and closed her eyes, acknowledging the compliment. “As you know, I missed my father by hours,” Harriman said, appearing to change the subject once more. “He died just a few hours before we returned to KR-3. I missed him.”

“I know, John,” Sulu said. “I’m sorry.”

He sat back down in the chair. “I don’t want to miss the most important things in my life,” he said. “So I’ve decided to resign my position as captain of Enterprise.”

“What?” Sulu said, shocked.

“That was what the communication from Starfleet Command was about,” he said.

“Starfleet’s accepted your resignation?” she asked.

“Actually, I’m not resigning my commission,” Harriman said. “I’m giving up my position, not my rank. I haven’t decided what I’ll do next exactly, but for now, I’m still a Starfleet captain.”

Sulu shook her head. She felt numb. “So Starfleet approved your request to change positions?” she asked.

“Oh, they accepted that request a month ago. Tonight—” He reached out his closed fist toward Sulu, then opened his hand to reveal a Starfleet insignia pin designating the rank of captain. “—they approved my replacement.”

Sulu looked up at Harriman. He reached up, removed the rank pin from her right shoulder, and replaced it with the new one. “Congratulations, Captain Sulu.”

She felt her mouth drop open, but she said nothing.

“And Enterprisewill still be going to the Röntgen Wall,” Harriman said. “That will be your first mission as captain.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Sulu finally managed. “Thank you.”

“You’ve earned this, Demora. You’re a fine officer, and you’ll make an excellent starship captain.” He smiled widely. “You’re also a damned good friend.” He stood up and moved toward her, and she rose as well. They embraced, and when they parted, he said, “Since you’re a captain now, I no longer outrank you. But I do have seniority, so I hope you’ll accept one final suggestion.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

Again, Harriman held out his hand. Now it held the rank pin he’d just removed from her uniform. “Xintal has been promoted to commander. It’s your choice, of course, but I think she might make a fine first officer.”

Sulu beamed. “Shall we go tell her?” she said.

Harriman shrugged. “Why don’t we let this night belong to Borona? I’ll be leaving Enterprisebefore it departs Starbase 77, but I’ve scheduled appointments tomorrow with each of the senior staff. I’ll have time to say goodbye, and you’ll have time to make your announcements.”

“All right,” Sulu said. She took the commander’s insignia from Harriman’s hand and exchanged it with her captain’s pin. Then she looked up at her old friend. “I’ll miss you,” she said.

“I’ll miss you too,” he said. “But I’m a good letter-writer, and I know you are too.” It was a skill she’d learned from her father. “And I hope we’ll get to see each other from time to time.” He paused, and then said, “Now go see Borona on her last night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded and thanked the captain again, then crossed the room to the door, which opened before her. She stopped just outside Harriman’s cabin, feeling overwhelmed by what had just happened. She felt both sad, knowing that she would miss her friend, and exhilarated, marveling at what her own future would hold.

Gathering herself, Captain Demora Sulu headed for the turbolift, striding through the corridors of her first command, U.S.S. Enterprise.

Harriman walked past the unmarked door, but then came to the end of the long corridor. That has to be it,he thought. He turned around and headed back the way he’d come.

He had to smile. It had taken him two starships, two transports, and a shuttlecraft to get to this remote outpost, and now he couldn’t find the right room. I was a helm officer,he joked to himself, not a navigator.

Harriman reached the unmarked door again and stopped before it. He looked both ways down the corridor, attempting to get his bearings and decide whether he really had arrived at the right place. But before he’d come to a conclusion, the door slid open.

“John!” Amina said. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she said, and they stepped forward into each other’s arms, their bodies fitting together as though they’d never been apart.

Into Amina’s ear, he whispered, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“When?” he said.

“Every day.”

Harriman pulled back so that he could see Amina’s face.

“How about today?” he asked.

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank several people for their assistance, generosity, and support during the writing of this novel. I first wish to express my gratitude to Marco Palmieri, both for offering me the opportunity to play in the Lost Erasand-box, and for all of his unstinting efforts along the way. Marco’s professionalism is unmatched, and his editorial skills and sensibilities always improve my writing. His patience and understanding are fortifying, and his vision and enthusiasm for the work galvanizing. Marco is a good man, and I feel fortunate whenever I have the chance to work with him.

I would also like to thank several of the Star Treknovelists. Peter David magnanimously allowed me the full use of Admiral John “Blackjack” Harriman, and Michael Jan Friedman, with equal magnanimity, the full use of “Iron Mike” Paris. Keith R.A. DeCandido provided me with Ditagh, and I gave him Kaarg, so that we might generate a bit of fun continuity for those who read both this book and Keith’s own Lost Eraentry, The Art of the Impossible.I am grateful to Dayton Ward, who graciously answered several questions about the Trekuniverse that I posed him. Lastly, I want to thank Peter David and Armin Shimerman for generously giving of their time by stepping in for me at a writer’s workshop when I was unexpectedly unable to attend.

On a very personal note, thank you for everything to Paul “Stick” Roman, #40, now gone. Paul and I shared so many wonderful moments together, both on and off the baseball diamond. His sense of humor and his loyalty were just two of the many things I could always count on (unlike his fastball, which wasn’t always fast, and his curveball, which didn’t always curve). One of my closest friends and a best man at my wedding, Paul lived a quiet life of greatness. His legacy of kindness cuts a broad path through many lives, and I am a better man for having known and loved him. I will miss him always, and Jackie, Becky, and Ryan Roman continue to have important places in my life and in my heart.

I am thankful, too, that my life intersected with that of Terry Weinstein, now also gone. Terry’s love of the game and his wit—not to mention his hitting, fielding, and running abilities—always made it enjoyable to step onto a baseball field with him. It’s not the same without him, and never will be. I miss him, and I keep Ellen Gordon and Terry’s family in my heart and thoughts.

I want to thank Colleen Ragan for her love, friendship, and support. One of the funniest people I’ve ever known, Colleen also manages to impress and encourage me, by bravely and boldly taking her life in new directions. And of course, she is truly the queen of all she surveys.

Thanks to Marty Nedboy, another person whose incredible sense of humor never fails to brighten my days. Marty is a dear and fabulous man, and absolutely one of a kind. I still can’t wait for him to take his comeback show to Vegas.

I want to thank Anita Smith for her unflagging love and support. She’s a terrific woman, and I appreciate the happiness she brings to life.

I want to thank Patricia Walenista, a woman to whom I always look for love, support, and guidance. There is no question that she has, in so many ways, contributed wonderful things to my life. I respect, admire, and love her.

And finally, thank you to Karen Ragan-George, who in addition to fulfilling my life in countless ways, also managed to save it this past year. After all this time, she still makes me laugh harder than anybody else ever has, and my heart still beats faster when I’m with her. She provides continuous inspiration to me on so many levels, a Renaissance woman whose beautiful smile makes everything worthwhile. Karen is the love of my life, for now and ever.