Tarin
stretched, but her arms found just an empty bed. She opened her eyes and looked
around. Ben wasn’t there, but from her living room she could hear faint music.
She concentrated and recognized and old song from Earth – “Fly me to the
moon”, performed by, what was his name again, Sinatra. She couldn’t remember
the singer’s first name, but she remembered the song well. It was the first
piece of music she and Ben had danced to the evening they had met on Deneva.
For
a minute she just lay there, listening to the music and remembering that evening,
as the song repeated again. As she headed for the shower, she let the last night
pass in review. While not the most passionate night in her relationship with Ben
Tucker, it had felt so good to know that they could just talk and enjoy each
other’s company, even if nothing more happened.
Ben
had been right; they had spent so much time together during the last few weeks
that, compared to the years of their long-distance relationship, it hardly
mattered if they would have a few hours more or less together. And he had been
right on another count. Whatever they did, it would be no use trying to change
each other – or themselves – just for the sake of their relationship.
Hadn’t it been the way they could be together and still be true to themselves
that had drawn them to each other in the first place?
No,
Tarin thought, that was not it. What had been the reason they had fallen in love
was that they complemented each other, that they could be even more true to
themselves together than being alone.
When
Tarin stepped from the bathroom and started to dress, Ben was still playing the
same song over and over again. Tarin tried to remember the lyrics as she put on
her uniform and started working on her hair. After checking her appearance in a
mirror she stepped to the door. Waiting for the right moment she reached for the
keypad and opened the door.
When
the door opened Ben looked up and nearly swallowed his coffee the wrong way,
just as Frank Sinatra’s voice sounded from the speakers:
“In
other words, I love you.”
*
* * * *
“Captain
Blake, good to see you again.” Tarin smiled at the face on the small desktop
viewer.
“And
you Tarin. How long has it been? Two years?”
“Almost
three I think. How are you, Edward?”
“Oh,
I am doing pretty well, considering the war and all the chaos since, but we will
have to postpone any talks about ourselves and the ‘good old times’.”
Edward Blake ran a hand through his hair and frowned. “I am afraid we will be
late for the meeting on Akadon. Our sensors indicate an ion-storm on our course,
strength 8 and pretty large. We will have to make a detour.”
“How
long will that take you?” Tarin Veal sounded more inquisitive than concerned,
but already images of more dinners with the Klingons raced through her head. So
far Gowron and his staff hadn’t returned the invitation, but with some time to
kill before the negotiations gagh and bregit lung seemed a likely prospect.
Captain
Blake leaned back into his chair. He still didn’t look very happy. “36 hours,
maybe 48. Ambassador Satek is already talking to the Klingons about postponing
the start of the conference, but it may be difficult to convince Gowron. It’s
possible that you will have to stand in for the Ambassador for a day or so.”
“What!”
Tarin nearly shouted. She leaned back into her chair and breathed deeply,
exhaled slowly. “You can’t be serious Edward. I am not qualified to do this.
Gowron and his people will waltz right over me should I have to negotiate with
them about more than the seating arrangements.”
“Relax.
The Ambassador knows that just as well as you do. Part of his staff is already
on Akadon and they will help you as much as they can. All we need from you is to
buy some time, should that become necessary at all.” Captain Blake’s image
on the monitor blurred for a moment, then stabilized again. “I’ll have to go
soon. We are starting to pick up interference from the ion storm. We’ll be as
fast as we can, and once we are past the storm we will be able to resume
communications and Satek can take over again.”
They
talked for a few more minutes before the transmission broke up and Tarin
swiveled her chair around to look out the window for a second. After she had
used her combadge to contact some of her senior officers and ordered them to a
meeting in half an hour she turned to the small viewer on her desk again.
“Bridge,
this is the Captain. Contact the diplomatic delegation on Akadon III and put the
reply through to my ready-room.”
*
* * * *
As
the heavy door shut behind Captain Klag he clenched his fists and looked as
angry as was possible for a Klingon. What the Chancellor had just told him
hadn’t been to his liking at all and as he made his way to the bridge of the Negh’Var
his crew gave him a wide berth.
Venting
his anger with a few loud curses helped a little and when he fell into his chair
on the bridge he started to consider the situation. He was a warrior not a
politician or a diplomat, but he had been forced to learn enough about politics
and politicians to see what was happening. During the last few months he had
always advocated a continuing alliance with the Federation and that was why he
was in command of the Klingon flagship now. He had gained this command as a
gesture by Gowron to the faction in the High Council that held the same beliefs
as Klag did and now the Chancellor wanted to use him for another gesture.
Handling
the first phase of the negotiations, one Captain dealing with another. It made
sense, but there would be nothing for him to negotiate. Once the Federation
Ambassador arrived it would be Gowron and Mek’toth who did all the important
talking and Klag would be out of the picture.
His
fist slammed on the armrest of his chair in anger. When the talking was done he
would be hailed by Gowron as the man of the first hour and no one in the Council
would be able to deny it, yet his presence would have made no difference at all.
Captain
Klag’s eyes narrowed and his fingers started to drum on the armrest. He was no
politician, but know he had to think like one if he wanted to influence the
future of the Klingon-Federation alliance. If this was a battle with blades and
disruptors he would know what to do, but this was a battle with words and that
was something completely different.
The
Klingons eyes narrowed even further, but his fingers stopped their restless
drumming. Was the difference really that big? Diplomacy was a fight that
promised little honor, but the tactics… reconnaissance, outmaneuvering, swift
surprise attacks, knowing your enemies and allies equally well… After a few
minutes he had reached a decision.
“Get
me Captain Veal on main viewer,” he shouted to his tactical officer.
*
* * * *
The
room measured about 6 by 8 meters and was just what Tarin had expected from a
wardroom on a Klingon ship; dim light, large tables laden with bowls of exotic
– and in many cases rather unappetizing looking – food, and chairs that
would be a pain to sit on for longer than a few minutes. Three Klingons sat in a
corner of the room when Captain Klag, Moira O’Shea and Tarin entered.
“Some
of my crew would like to learn more about our Federation allies, that’s why
they asked to be here tonight,” Klag explained before he introduced his guests
to the Klingon officers.
Tarin
nodded. ‘Federation allies’ sounded like a hopeful start to the evening.
“Lieutenant O’Shea, why don’t you sit down here and try to answer any
questions our hosts might have?” She took her place at Captain Klag’s table
on the other side of the room, well away from the small Klingon group Moira now
joined.
“Ah.
Gagh.” She looked down at the bowl that set right in front of her and mustered
all her courage to reach for a fork.
“If
gagh is too difficult for you we can find something else,” Klag offered, but
Tarin was determined not to give up so easily.
“Oh
no, I have survived Romulans, Cardassians and invaders from beyond space and
time. I think I will survive a few serpent worms.” As she dug her fork into
the bowl and slurped down some of the writhing worms Captain Klag grinned and
started on his own gagh.
*
* * * *
“Have
a seat.” Tarin gestured to the sofa in her ready room and Moira set down,
while Tarin lowered herself into the chair behind her desk. “That was
certainly an interesting evening.”
“Yes.”
Lieutenant O’Shea leaned forward and tried to recall every detail of the last
three hours. “Those Klingon officers hardly asked any question about the
Federation. It almost looked like they were there to answer my questions, not
the other way round.”
“Captain
Klag was rather forthcoming himself about internal Klingon affairs.” Tarin
rested her arms on the desk. “What did they tell you?”
“They
were talking a lot about the guy who was with Gowron, the one we took for an
honor guard.”
“Which
he is not?” the Captain asked. Klag had obviously set up the whole evening so
she would get this information, which she found rather odd for a man like him.
“Yes
and no. His name is Vontar and he is not just an honor guard. That bath’ let
he was carrying was not his, it was Gowron’s.” She paused for her Captain to
realize what that meant.
Tarin
leaned back into her chair. “But why would a Klingon warrior have someone else
carry his sword for him? It makes no sense, unless... Unless he wants to make a
statement that he is so powerful that he doesn’t even need his sword in his
hands to deal with his enemies.”
“That’s
probably it,” Moira agreed. “From what I could gather it’s a very ancient
custom that hasn’t been used for centuries. I have no idea why Gowron has
revived it right now, but he choose an interesting man as his honor-guard.”
*
* * * *
“Why
did we do this, Captain?”
“Do
you doubt my judgement?” Klag asked, with an edge of mistrust and aggression
in his voice.
His
First Officer snorted. “No. If I did, I would be in command and you would be
dead by now.”
Captain
Klag laughed loudly. “You are welcome to try any time.” He grinned, assured
the question had been asked out of curiosity and nothing else. “Do you think
we should break our alliance with the Federation?”
“No.”
As his Captain passed a bottle of bloodwine across the table, the man continued:
“If we go to war with the Federation the Romulans will gain the upper hand. If
we go to war with the Romulans the Federation won’t be able to help us and
without their aid such a war could destroy the Empire.”
“Yes.”
Klag held out his hand and the other man took a quick swig from the bottle
before passing it back again. “Kahless himself said that there was no honor in
destroying an empire to win a war.” The Klingon Captain took a long gulp of
bloodwine before he continued: “If Gowron has his way he may do just that. The
man has no regard for the consequences of his actions.”
“So,”
the other man asked, “it’s up to the Federation?”
Captain
Klag emptied the bottle and slammed it down on his desk. “Yes. If they play
their hand right I may be able to help them even more, but whatever happens in
the end is up to them.”
*
* * * *
“This
Vontar is no ordinary warrior. From what the Klingons told me he has studied
Klingon customs and history from a very young age and trained with the
traditional Klingon weapons with many renowned masters. Rumor among the Negh’Var
crew has it that he is now a master with several kinds of sword himself,
but,” Lieutenant O’Shea made a dramatic pause and Tarin answered with a
faint smile, “the last few years he spent in seclusion at the Borath monastery.”
“So
he is some kind of warrior-monk who may even know Kahless II from his time on
Borath, serving Gowron based on an obscure Klingon tradition.” Captain Veal
rose and walked over to the replicator. “That’s all very interesting, but I
don’t see how we could use this information or why Klag wanted us to have it
in the first place.”
“There
is one more thing, but I am not sure if my Klingon is good enough for a correct
translation.” Moira stood and reached for the small computer on the
Captain’s desk. “May I?”
“Go ahead.” Tarin leaned against the wall by the window and watched Moira O’Shea’s fingers dance over the keypad. It took a minute, but then she had found what she was looking for.
“There.
Got it.” Moira turned the computer around so the Captain could get a look at
it. “He is on a quest, or to be more precise a ‘spiritual search’.”
Tarin
put her cup down on the table and leaned forward, studying the translation on
the screen. “If I read this right, there can be two interpretations for it.”
“Yes.”
The Lieutenant sighed. “I am just not sure which one the Klingons were
referring to. It could have been both. One is a search off one’s own spirit,
while the other one is a real physical search for some thing, place or person of
spiritual significance. Whatever it is, the Klingons made a big fuss about it,
so it must be important.”
“Yes,
it must be.” Tarin Veal set down at her desk again and stared at the small
screen. “Please prepare a written report on everything the Klingons have told
you until tomorrow morning. And see if you can refine this translation.”
After
Moira had left the ready-room the Captain was deep in thoughts for a while. Only
when she reached for her cup and noticed that the cocoa had turned cold did she
notice that almost an hour had passed. Captain Klag had hinted to her that he
wouldn’t be able to make any real concessions during the upcoming negotiations,
but that he would at least be able to answer Tarin’s questions to the best of
his abilities. He wanted her to ask certain questions, but he was apparently
unwilling or unable to tell her straightaway what those questions were. She
would have to work that out for herself.
*
* * * *
The
planet on the viewer looked almost like Earth. The continents had different
shapes and the oceans looked more green than blue, but it certainly was an
M-class planet.
Akadon III had been prepared for colonization just before the Chaos War - an administration center had been set up, a communications network had been installed, even a small spaceport for shuttles and freighters had been built. All the planet needed were colonists, who had never arrived. Combining an existing infrastructure with a location well away from major Federation and Klingon interests it made a perfect choice for the conference, even if it was a little surprising that the Klingons had suggested a planet so deep within Federation space for the conference.
Leaving
warp a comfortable distance from the planet’s gravity well the Valkyrie
and the Negh’Var had a little over two hours before they reached a
standard orbit. After that it would be another two or three hours before the
negotiations started – Captain Veal’s negotiations, at least for the time
being.
“All
right,” Tarin announced. “Commander Enikal, Commander Westmore, Lieutenant
O’Shea, would you please join me in the observation lounge.”
“Lieutenant
Hagen, you have the bridge. Inform me as soon as we enter standard orbit or if
we re-establish communications with the Inari.”
*
* * * *
Tarin
folded her hands on the table. “I have spoken to Ambassador Satek’s staff on
Akadon and from what they told me there are three Klingon groups trying to
influence the outcome of this conference.” Tarin looked at the three officers
sitting around the table. “Some Klingons want to make war on the Federation,
some want to make war on the Romulans and some want to keep the status quo. Any
idea who is pulling the strings on this conference?”
“I
have been able to dig up a few facts on General Mek’toth,” Commander
Westmore stated. “He is a ground-forces soldier, trained in counter-insurgency
tactics and invasion strategies.”
Captain
Veal found it encouraging that she had been able to read at least one of the
Klingons. “A conqueror.”
“Yes.
If the Klingon Empire wants to hold on to our worlds in the Ramatis sector,
Mek’toth, or someone like him, will be tasked with heading the occupation
forces. I’d say he is an advocate of making war on the Federation as soon as
possible, as he would gain a lot of prestige from such an assignment.”
Tarin
just nodded. She had suspected as much, but it was still good to have a
confirmation. Now she turned to her XO. “Commander Enikal, anything on Captain
Klag?”
“Yes.
We wouldn’t normally have it, but since our database was updated from the
Vulcan archives…” His voice trailed off and he breathed deeply. “He was
second officer on board the Klingon cruiser Pagh in 2365, during the
short-lived officer exchange program between Starfleet and the Klingon
Empire.”
“I
remember that,” Moira muttered.
Dar
continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. “During that program he met the
Enterprise’s XO, Commander Riker. Shortly afterward he managed to become CO of
the Pagh, our data is a little sketchy about the details I am afraid.
During the civil war he supported Gowron while at the same time advocating
Federation support in suppressing the Romulan interference.”
“So,”
Alexander Westmore slowly remarked, “he knows the Federation and he is likely
to support a continuing alliance between both powers.”
“Okay,”
Tarin interjected. “What we have is a Klingon who would advocate war on the
Federation, one who would advocate continuing our alliance and no one who would
be in favor of fighting the Romulans, no matter what the Federation says. What
does that leave us with?”
Commander
Westmore cleared his throat. “My conclusion is, that Gowron needs either one
of these factions in the high council to support whatever he is up to.” He
made a small pause. “Frankly I think Captain Klag is too unimportant in
Klingon politics, which leaves Mek’toth as the man Gowron really wants support
from.”
“So if Gowron wants to please Mek’toth’s faction we can expect hostilities between the Federation and the Empire to increase into a full-scale war.”
Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7