Текст книги "The Art of the Impossible "

Автор книги: Keith R. A. DeCandido

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Chapter 37

Qo’nos

Lorgh stood in the small room on the upper level of his home that overlooked the HoSghaj River. The room’s sole illumination came from a large candle.

He watched the mighty river flow past his estate and toward the ocean into which it emptied.

The mission he had sent Mogh on had not quite been the success Lorgh had hoped. The true identity of the Romulan spy was not known, which meant they did not know who his or her accomplices might have been. Still, he had accounted for that possibility, which was one of the reasons why he had insisted on Kurn remaining behind. Better still, even though Mogh and Kaasin were killed, Worf survived—according to his sources, he had been taken in by the family of one of the humans serving on the Intrepid,the Starfleet vessel that first responded to the distress signal on Khitomer.

General Worf’s line would remain intact. One son of Mogh remained in the Federation, beyond the reach of any vengeful relations of whoever the spy was.

The other son of Mogh would be a son of Lorgh for the nonce. Lorgh had no sons of his own, so that would provide an adequate excuse for this step. And in the long term, the boy would have other uses. Lorgh intended to make sure that Kurn was a powerful warrior, and a force to be reckoned with in the Empire. He also intended to keep an eye on Worf—see how a Klingon raised in the Federation would turn out.

Both sons of Mogh might turn out to be quite useful to him.

And, even if the short-term consequences were devastating, the long-term prognosis was good. The Intrepid’s presence served to drive off the Romulans—and also reveal their responsibility for the attack. K’mpec had been able to ascend to the chancellorship, a move long overdue. The truth—that a Klingon betrayed Khitomer to the Romulans—would remain hidden for now, but there was nothing to be done about that. A pity,Lorgh thought. Proof of that might send us to war with the Romulans.Instead, the members of the High Council whose Houses owed their strength and position to Romulan assistance would continue to do all they could to keep the two powers from coming into conflict. It would be K’mpec’s task to keep those forces at bay—and Lorgh’s to try to expose them—over the course of time.

As for Kravokh, he had served his purpose—to get the Empire out of the rut that Kaarg and Ditagh had mired them in—but his Ch’gran obsession proved his undoing. It was almost worth the sacrifice of four thousand lives to speed him on his way to Sto-Vo-Korwhere he would no longer ruin the Empire with his constant worrying about the past.

Klingons could not forget their past, but it was I.I.’s job to make sure that the Empire had a future. Lorgh was confident that K’mpec was the one to bring them to that future.

If he isn’t, then he too will be replaced. The river will flow onward.

He walked over to the candle and unsheathed his d’k tahg. Mogh, Kaasin, you did your work well. Your sacrifices will not go unheeded. May you join the general inSto-Vo– Kor , and may your battles continue ever onward. You deserve no less.

Using the flat of his d’k tahg,he extinguished the candle’s flame.

Then he went downstairs to speak to his new son.

“You know, if you keep that up, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

Elias Vaughn had been pacing in the corridor outside the new Klingon chancellor’s office for the better part of fifteen minutes. Curzon Dax had never considered Vaughn to be the type to have an excess of nervous energy—well, to be honest, he had never given Vaughn all that much thought at all—but he seemed to be boiling over with it today.

“Since this floor is made of rodinium, I doubt that’s an issue, Ambassador.”

Dax smiled at Vaughn’s disdain. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“The syllables spell out the word ‘ambassador,’ yet you manage to make it sound like ‘jackass’ every time.”

At that, Vaughn actually smirked. “Call it a gift.”

“I’d rather call it an irritant, but suit yourself. In any case, K’mpec will see us when he’s good and ready. He isthe newly appointed head of a massive interstellar empire.”

“It feels like we’re being stalled. I dislike being stalled.”

Dax laughed. “You have no appreciation of the Klingon mindset, Commander. Trust me, if K’mpec can’t see us, it’s because he’s too busy to see us. Klingons don’t stall. If he wanted us to sweat, he’d put us in a sauna—or just threaten to garrotte us, or some other such thing.”

“Well, you’re the expert,” Vaughn said, using that same disdainful tone.

The door to K’mpec’s office opened, and a surly looking guard stepped through it. “Inside,” he said, indicating the interior with his head.

The office, Dax noted as he entered, was spare. The desk was a small piece of metal just large enough to hold a workstation and a few padds. K’mpec’s impressive girth made him look like a full-grown adult sitting at a child’s play dining room set as he sat behind it, looking over something on the screen of that workstation. Behind him, the wall was decorated, typically, with weapons, as were two other walls, as well as a rather unfortunate painting. Dax prayed that the latter was a holdover from Kravokh’s reign that K’mpec simply hadn’t gotten around to having destroyed.

“If we were in the Federation,” Dax said as they took their places standing before K’mpec, “congratulations would be in order.”

K’mpec looked up and smiled. “But we are not in the Federation.”

“Indeed. So I will simply wish you success, Chancellor.”

“What is it you want, Ambassador?” The smile was now gone, replaced by the face of a busy man who was only having this meeting because of who Dax was.

“We have information that may be of use to you regarding your predecessor—and Ch’gran.”

That got K’mpec’s attention. “What do youknow of Ch’gran?”

Vaughn chose this moment to make his presence known. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Elias Vaughn. At Ambassador Dax’s request, I did some digging into Kravokh’s background. I found out some interesting things about his family—and why he was so obsessed with recovering Ch’gran.”

“Recovering Ch’gran is the desire of allKlingons,” K’mpec said.

“For its historical value, yes. That, however, is notwhat Kravokh was after.”

K’mpec frowned. “What, then?”

Dax had been afraid of this. “You aren’t aware of what was in the records of that Ch’gran wreck they found fifty years ago, are you?”

“There wereno records.” K’mpec spoke in a low, menacing tone, as if challenging Dax and Vaughn to prove his words wrong. Unfortunately, we’re about to.

Vaughn looked at Dax. “I did warn you that he wouldn’t know. Those records were sealed by Imperial Intelligence, notthe High Council.”

Sighing, Dax said, “Yes, Vaughn, you were actually right. I suppose the law of averages was bound to catch up with you.”

K’mpec was now smoldering. “Of what records do you speak?” he asked, enunciating every word in a manner that Dax found quite intimidating, all things considered.

Vaughn faced the chancellor. “The records on that wreck revealed the reasons why the Ch’gran colony was lost—it was because of a mutiny, led by Ch’gran’s second-in-command, a man named Klartak.”

“Klartak,” Dax added, “was a member of what was then known as the House of Boral, but is more properly known these days as the House of—”

“Kravokh.” The word sounded like wheels going over broken glass as it came out of K’mpec’s mouth.

“Yes,” Vaughn said. “The I.I. agent who decoded the records of the Ch’gran wreck was a descendant of Klartak’s, and he is the one who sealed the records. He told no one of this, save his son. It has remained a family secret, one that has been passed down through what is now the House of Kravokh. Dax’s proviso that the Cardassians could not touch Ch’gran until the dispensation of Raknal V was determined kept the truth hidden for as long as the competition continued. My personal opinion is that Kravokh’s efforts to fortify the Defense Force were primarily with an eye toward taking Raknal by force if necessary, perhaps even invading Cardassia, if Qaolin could not win the planet for them under Dax’s terms.”

“Ranh!” K’mpec stood angrily. “You mean to tell me that thousands of Klingons have died so that animal could protect his family’s dishonor?”

“Not quite,” Dax said with a smile.

That drew K’mpec up short. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s all right, Chancellor,” Dax said, “neither did I when Vaughn first explained it to me.”

Fixing Vaughn with a penetrating gaze, K’mpec said, “Then explain it to me– clearly,if you will, Commander.”

Vaughn inclined his head. “Of course. You see, Klartak did not mutiny until he was given the order to turn back.”

At that, K’mpec’s tiny eyes grew wide with shock, a reaction not dissimilar to Dax’s own when Vaughn had explained it to him back on B’Alda’ar.

“Ch’gran had no intention of colonizing space,” Vaughn continued. “His plan all along was to return here, destroy the First City from orbit, and install himself as the new emperor. His entire goal in having the fleet constructed wasn’t to pave the way to space, it was to give him a weapon by which he could take over Qo’noS. He only traveled with the fleet so far because he needed time to get the other six ship captains on his side.”

“Kravokh was not trying to preserve hishonor,” Dax said, “but that of one of the Empire’s greatest heroes. He did not wish the legacy of Ch’gran, the man who prompted your people to vault forward into space for the first time after the Hur’q invasion, to be that of a traitor.”

K’mpec snorted. “Our people can survive the tarnishing of the occasional legend, Ambassador. We are not human children who require our parents to prettify our stories to make them palatable.” He looked away. “And we have had our share of fallen heroes in our time.” Then he looked sharply at Vaughn. “How did you obtain this information?”

“I’d rather not say.”

Leaning forward, his fists on his desk, K’mpec said, “You will tell me the name of your informant, or I will—”

“Do nothing,” Dax said quickly. The last thing he wanted to witness right now was these two men getting into a pissing contest. “We volunteered this information to you as a show of good faith and in the hope that our people’s good relations will continue, Chancellor. We are under no obligation to provide you with anything more than we have given you. Humans have a saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth—I suggest you abide by it in this case.”

“If there is a leak in I.I.—”

Vaughn fixed K’mpec with a stern look. “Then it is yourduty to plug it, sir, not mine.”

K’mpec looked back and forth between the two men. Dax was worried that the chancellor would try to take this to the next step, which would be dangerous for all of them—most of all, though, for the Federation–Klingon alliance, which was only just being stitched back together after fifty years of fraying.

Finally, K’mpec sat back down. “Very well. The Klingon Empire is grateful to you for bringing this matter to our attention.” He leaned back. “Since both of you were—involved in the beginnings of this absurdity, it is only fitting that you be here for the end of it.”

Dax frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, Ambassador, is that your arrival here has saved me the trouble of contacting you via subspace.” He touched a control on his workstation. “You will come with me.”

Without another word, K’mpec rose from his chair and left the office. A guard fell into step behind him as he proceeded to the Council Chambers, Vaughn and a bemused Dax right behind both of them. Whispering to Vaughn, Dax asked, “What do you think this is about?”

Vaughn shrugged. “You’re the expert.”

“Remind me to have you beaten before we leave, Commander.”

Soon they were in Council Chambers. Dax recognized some of the councillors from his last visit, knew others as Defense Force veterans who had been promoted to the Council. K’mpec took his place in the seat under the Klingon Empire’s trefoil emblem, a spotlight shining on his heavily lined face, and the other councillors stepped into place in a semicircle on either side of him.

As soon as he took his seat, the room quieted down. Vaughn and Dax stood off to the side, along with other observers.

K’mpec looked around the chamber for several seconds before speaking in a booming voice that belied his near-whisper back in his office. “As of this moment, the Klingon Empire cedes the world of Raknal V to the Cardassian Union.”

Dax’s own eyes went wide at that one.

“We are willing to discuss ways to obtain the Ch’gran relic through trade, but we will no longer sacrifice warriors in the wasteful manner that they have been cast aside because of the single-minded pursuit of this one insignificant planet. Governor Qaolin will relinquish his post and return to the Homeworld within one week.

“In addition, the ban on Cardassian citizens within the Empire is lifted. It is the wish of this Council that Cardassia do the same for our people—if not, the ban will be reinstated.”

Then K’mpec turned to one of the councillors, Ruuv. “What of the Romulan Empire’s response to the attack on Khitomer?”

Ruuv stepped forward. “Sir, Praetor Narviat has condemned the actions of the ‘traitors’ who have attacked Khitomer. He assures us that those responsible will be punished, and offers their lives to us.”

“As it should be,” said one councillor.

Another said, “We should consider making a formal alliance with them.”

“Are you mad?” said a third. “Do you believe these lies?”

Dax put a hand on Vaughn’s shoulder, and indicated the exit with his head. They both departed even as the Council’s squabbling started. “They’ll be at it for hours. I doubt that anything will come of it. Too many important Klingons owe too many important Romulans too much money. I suspect any conflict will be limited to isolated skirmishes.”

“Much like what the Klingons and Cardassians have been doing for the past eighteen years?” Vaughn asked pointedly.

Dax shook his head. “Much like that, yes. Well, if you’ll excuse me, Commander, I have to inform my superiors in the Diplomatic Corps that the Betreka Nebula incident has finally come to an end.”

Chapter 38

Cardassia Prime

Corbin Entek’s third trip to the Obsidian Order’s public headquarters proceeded in much the same manner as his first two. He approached the sixty-story building in the culde-sac—the renovations had just been completed the month before—and was told by the receptionist to report to Room 2552. Entek wondered briefly if this meant he was notgoing to see Tain—with the added floors, 2552 was no longer at the building’s epicenter—but apparently Tain liked the office for some reason.

This time a thin, white-haired man sat at the reception desk. He activated his comm unit and said, “He’s arrived.”

Tain’s voice once again sounded over the intercom. “Send him in.”

Tain’s viewer now showed a tactical map of the quadrant. It distressed Entek to see how small Cardassia’s territory—marked in yellow on the galactic map—was in relation to such other local powers as the Breen Confederacy, the Tholian Assembly, the Klingon and Romulan Empires, and most especially the United Federation of Planets.

“Greetings, Entek!” As always, Tain sounded like a grandfather saying hello to a child not visited in months. “Please, have a seat.”

Entek did so, hoping that the similarities to the previous two trips would remain intact. He had no desire to get on Tain’s bad side, not when his career had been going so well. Especially after he was able to handle Khitomer so deftly—though that was with some unknowing help from the Klingons themselves…

“You are no doubt aware that the Klingons have ceded Raknal V to us and allowed Cardassians back inside their borders. We have done the same for their people—which,” he added with a smile, “is probably the only drawback to the whole thing.”

Although he did not find the comment especially humorous, Entek was sensible enough to return the smile.

“Negotiations to restore that silly pile of wreckage to them have commenced. And we owe it all to you. I doubt we’d be at this point if the Romulans hadn’t obligingly attacked Khitomer when they did. Your manufactured ‘confession’ played right into the Romulans’ paranoid hands.”

Manufactured?“To give credit where it is due, sir,” Entek said respectfully, “it was the operative you assigned to leak the confession to the Tal Shiar who fed the paranoia. He did good work in convincing the Romulans of its veracity. I simply provided the documentation.”

“True, but the documentation itself was an exquisite piece of work.”

Entek smiled. He doesn’t know.For a moment, he debated not telling Tain—but no, if the head of the Obsidian Order learned that Entek held back such information, it could damage Entek’s chances. His career was at too important a turning point right now for him to take that risk, especially since the usefulness of the intelligence had now passed. “For that, you must credit the Klingon we captured. After all, he only spoke the truth.”

Tain’s mouth actually fell open at that. It took all of Entek’s training to keep the look of joy off his face. I have actually surprised Enabran Tain!“You didn’t know?” Entek asked innocently.

To his credit, Tain composed himself quickly. “I had simply assumed that the confession was false.”

“Not at all. However,” he added before Tain could react further, “it was an isolated incident.”

Frowning, Tain said, “Explain.”

“The Klingon Empire has no intention of developing biogenic weapons. Leaving aside their cultural biases, they have no interest in violating interstellar treaties.” He allowed himself a small smile. “But the Klingon Empire wasn’t developing those weapons on Khitomer—Chancellor Kravokh was, without the knowledge of the High Council or anyone else aside from the development team. I don’t think their Imperial Intelligence even knew of it. Aside from Kravokh, all those associated with the project were either members of the House of Kultan or loyal to it—that House has produced several prominent Klingon scientists.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the reports regarding that House. You suspect Kravokh intended to use that weapon against us?”

Entek nodded. “Oh, the prisoner said as much, though I did not include that in the recording that the Tal Shiar received, nor that the operation wasn’t sanctioned by the High Council. Your man provided a forger who did fine editing work that kept the recording seeming authentic. However, all evidence of the research—and all those who knew of it—are quite dead. The only ones who weren’t on Khitomer were my prisoner and Kravokh himself.”

Tain nodded several times—so much so that Entek wondered if the older man’s head would fall off. “That makes what you’ve done that much more important, my friend. You may well have saved us all from the actions of a madman by setting his assassination in motion.”

Deciding not to point out that Kravokh’s death was not, strictly speaking, an assassination, Entek instead simply said, “I merely serve Cardassia.”

“And your own desire for promotion, of course.” Entek was about to object, but Tain held up a hand. “Now now, it’s only to be expected. And besides, the two aren’t mutually exclusive goals. In fact, as long as they remain that way, you should do quite well. That’s why I’ve decided to reward your efforts by putting you in charge of Order operations on Bajor.”

Now it was Tain’s turn to surprise Entek. He had all but given up hope of getting the Bajor assignment after so many years of frustration.

“We have learned that Central Command plans to build a space station in orbit around Bajor. It’s still awaiting a final vote, but I’m confident that Legate Kell will get the support he needs for it. While it will do much to streamline the uridium processing, it will also serve as a very nice orbital target for that tiresome resistance movement. I want an Order agent who can get things done in charge over there, before that resistance gets out of hand. Central Command’s efforts to curtail them could charitably be called poor.”

“I agree,” Entek said, “and I’m sure that you will find my efforts to be beneficial to Cardassia.”

Tain smiled. “Good.” He handed Entek a padd. “This contains a list of your staff. Feel free to make any amendments to the team that you feel are necessary.”

Happily, Entek took the padd. At last, a supervisor, and in the assignment I have longed for.

For the third time, Corbin Entek left Enabran Tain’s office with his life and his career intact. This he considered a sign of skill and success in his chosen field. He felt confident in his ability to continue that success.

It had been many years since Legate Zarin had been invited to Legate Kell’s office on Cardassia. The view from the picture window in the north wall was, if anything, more impressive, as this section of the capital city had been built up quite a bit over the past few years. The spoils of conquest,he thought. Cardassia was strong, and growing stronger every day.

To Zarin’s relief, Kell had apparently gotten over his Lissepian phase. The paintings that now decorated the west wall were primarily Bajoran. In addition to making fine laborers, Bajorans drew very pretty pictures. Perhaps when I take over this office,Zarin thought wistfully, I will keep the artwork.

Kell’s old urall-skin couch had long since been replaced by a much more comfortable one made of kereshide from Chin’toka VI. Zarin sat on it now, with Kell sitting in the same conformer chair he’d had for over twenty years.

Holding up his glass of kanarin toast, Kell said, “To victory over the Klingons.”

“To victory.”

After gulping down his kanarin as boorish a manner as Zarin would have expected from him, Kell set down the glass. “Of course, that victory was a long time coming. Longer than it should have been.”

Zarin didn’t like the sound of that.

Kell smiled. “Don’t look so concerned, Zarin. I know you and Monor did your best. And Raknal V will make a fine addition to the Cardassian Union. Such a pity that all your efforts went to waste.”

“We did all that we could within Ambassador Dax’s constraints to—”

“That’s notwhat I’m referring to, Legate. And you know it.” Kell leaned on the table that sat between them and tossed a padd at Zarin. The younger legate frowned as he keyed the display. It showed a transcript of a conversation Zarin had with Monor regarding the sabotage of the communications systems on the Klingon vessel Chut.Thanks to the catastrophe on the Gratok,the sabotage wound up having a somewhat different effect—to wit, preventing the Chutfrom hearing the panic signal—from what was intended, though the end result of killing the entire complement of the Chutwas the same.

“What of it?” Zarin asked. “You told Monor and me to do whatever it took to ensure that we secured our claim to Raknal V.”

Kell stood up. “Legate Zarin, I am appalled! Do you truly believe that I would authorize actions that would lead to the deaths of a hundred Klingons?”

Staring coldly up at Kell, Zarin said, “Yes, I do believe that you would.”

Laughing, Kell sat back down. “Perhaps, but I’m not the one on the transcript—which, by the way, is also in the hands of the Obsidian Order.”

Zarin wondered if it was the Order who provided Kell with the transcript or the other way around. The fact that Kell was nonspecific led Zarin to think it was the former. Kell would never admit to being beholden to the Order for anything.

“What is it you want, Kell? Obviously, you don’t intend to release this publicly.”

“Why would I release it publicly?” Kell finished off his kanar.“Much better, I think, to release it to the Klingons. I’m sure the descendants of the Chutvictims would love to know who was responsible for their deaths.”

Rolling his eyes, Zarin said, “You haven’t answered my question, Kell.” These threats were pointless. If Kell wanted Zarin humiliated or dead, the padd would be in the hands of the Detapa Council or the Klingons already.

“You opposed the construction of Terok Nor over Bajor, and convinced several other legates to join that opposition. You will change your position. We need Terok Nor to facilitate the uridium processing.”

Zarin was about to point out what a colossal waste of money constructing an orbital station would be—but there was no point. Kell had already heard these arguments when the subject was debated. If Zarin couldn’t convince him then, he wouldn’t convince him now—especially when Kell had blackmail material.

After several moments, Zarin finally answered. “I cannot guarantee that all the legates who supported my nay vote will switch.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Zarin, just the fact that you have switched your vote will be more than sufficient to convince enough of them.” Kell stood up. “Now get out of my office. And Zarin?”

Zarin stood up. “Yes?”

Kell indicated the picture window. “Don’tget used to that view. You won’t be taking over this office for a long time yet.”

We’ll see,Zarin thought angrily as he left.