As a result, Kang had spent a week observing. Worse, what he observed were Kravokh and the assorted councillors observing. A scientist, his mate Mara appreciated the value of such tasks, but Kang had no use for them. He was a warrior, one of the most renowned soldiers of the Empire. That made his choice as the captain to lead this nonsensical “tour” as inevitable as it was frustrating.
Now, however, the monotony may be broken.“Specifics,” he instructed the operations officer who gave the report.
“It is coming from the Morska system, sir. The I.K.S. Konmatis under attack by three Galor-class vessels.”
“Cardassians.” Kang almost sneered the word.
Just as he spoke it, the rear door to the bridge slid open to reveal Kravokh and three of the five councillors who accompanied him—as well as their entourage of bodyguards—came onto the bridge.
“What Cardassians?” Kravokh asked.
Kang turned to the operations officer. “Report to the chancellor.”
The officer seemed surprised at first, but recovered quickly and spoke in a far more respectful tone than Kang had ever heard the young officer use to Kang himself. “Sir, according to this signal, the Konmatis under attack by three Galor-class ships, but—” He hesitated.
“But what?” Kravokh prompted.
The officer looked quickly at Kang, who cried, “Speak!”
“I—I am not sure that the distress signal is genuine, sir.”
Kang’s lips curled. The officer was too intimidated by the presence of such exalted warriors to be anything other than truthful. If anything, he had probably understated his case. Kang looked at the pilot. “Time to Morska?”
Without hesitation, the pilot spoke, meaning she had wisely already calculated it. “Three hours, ten minutes at warp eight, sir.”
Turning to the chancellor, Kang said, “With respect, we should send two ships—I recommend the Aktuhand the Gowlak—and—”
“No.” Kravokh strode to the area between the command chair and the forward viewer. “I grow weary of these Cardassian invasions of our space. Instruct the convoy to set course for Morska.”
Kang seethed. Bad enough that an entire garrison of vessels were being wasted on a glorified publicity exercise, but this…“We do not even know that there isa Cardassian invasion of our space. And to send a dozen ships on such an errand is akin to using a disruptor cannon to hunt a single lIngta’.”
To Kang’s irritation, that prompted a smile from the chancellor. “In the end, though, the lIngta’is dead. Give the order, Captain.”
Any other captain might have jumped at that point. To even question the Supreme Commander of the Klingon Empire was courting death. But Kang had lived far too long to be so easily intimidated. He had been leading troops into battle when Kravokh’s father was too small to hold a bat’leth.
Still, challenging his authority for more than a few seconds would cause more problems than it would solve. For one thing, the other councillors—not to mention their bodyguards—would probably cut Kang to ribbons. Normally he would expect at least some loyalty from his crew, but based on his operations officer’s stammering, perhaps this was not a normal situation. Nor did he wish to force his crew to make that decision.
So, finally, he said, “Instruct the convoy to set course for the Morska system, warp eight.”
“Course laid in, sir,” the pilot said almost immediately. This time, Kang did not welcome the woman’s efficiency.
“Execute.”
Chapter 33
Khitomer
Mogh exited the control room with a combination of glee and regret. The former was because the shield tests went better than expected. If they were attacked by Romulan or Breen disruptors, Federation or Cardassian phasers, or even Kinshaya pulse blasts, they’d be ready.
The latter was due to his inability to root out the Romulan spy. L’Kor and Gi’ral both expressed admiration for certain characteristics of Romulans, but neither of them showed any outward indication, and the computer searches had turned up nothing suspicious.
On the other hand, Ja’rod was looking more promising. Mogh was still unable to eavesdrop on the man’s residence, and there were several anomalies in his service record. None of it was hard evidence, but it was enough to encourage a deeper digging. That would be more Lorgh’s task than mine.
As he exited the control room and headed for the exit, he was greeted by Kahlest and Worf. The boy was, of course, holding the family bat’leth,as he had been when he triumphantly returned that morning with what would become the evening meal for the Defense Force troops.
Mogh noted with pride that the weapon was clean. Knowing how to maintain the weapon was as important as knowing how to wield it—at least that was what Mogh always believed, especially given how much better at the former he was than the latter—and he was glad to see that Worf had taken that lesson to heart.
“How was your day, my son?” Mogh asked.
“It was all right, Father,” Worf said, sounding bored. “I want to go hunting again. Next time, I will catch the beast’s father!”
Mogh smiled. “I am sure that you will, Worf.”
“Have you found him yet?”
Again, Mogh felt pride at his son’s good sense. He knew that Mogh’s mission was secret, and so never spoke openly of it outside of their cabin. “Not yet, but I have a suspicion. Now, however, is not the time for—”
“Husband!”
Mogh looked up to see Kaasin entering. She still wore her mok’barashirt and pants, covered with a long maroon coat.
“I was hoping to find you all here,” she said. “My class has ended, and I thought we should eat with the troops in the mess hall—partake of the feast our son has provided.”
Worf’s eyes grew wide. “Can we, Father, please?”
As if I could say no to either of you.“That is an excellent idea, my love.”
“Of course it is.” Kaasin smiled, her gray eyes almost glowing. Mogh felt his heart sing, as it always did in her presence.
He still recalled the day he brought her to the seat of their House, in the sitting room under the Qam-Chee tapestry and the same bat’leththat Worf now carried with him everywhere. There, Mogh’s mother gave her blessing to their union. His father, Worf’s namesake, had been on a mission, but he gave his own blessing in due course. Mogh would always serve the Empire, always do his duty, but nothing pleased him more than simply being in Kaasin’s presence.
As they proceeded toward the mess hall, an alarm sounded.
“Alert status. Alert status.”
Mogh immediately ran to a workstation, and called up the current display on the tactical monitor in the control room.
It showed several Romulan warbirds decloaking in orbit.
Such an attack is more possible than either of us dreamed, L’Kor,he thought sourly.
Then the display showed that the outpost shields—the same shields he had just spent the day testing—had gone down.
Slamming his fist onto an intercom channel, he cried, “Mogh to control room! Commander Moraq, come in!”
There was no reply from the outpost commander, nor any of his crew.