After Narrk fell to the deck, Qaolin did not bother to perform the death ritual. That was for worthy warriors who fell in battle, not lying yIntagh.
Even as Qaolin summoned the quartermaster and his second officer to his office—the former to dispose of Narrk’s body, the latter to congratulate on his promotion—a voice in the back of his head asked, What if he wasn’t lying?
When he was finished speaking to the quartermaster and his new first officer, Qaolin went to the cabin that had been assigned to Yovang on deck four. All the officers’ quarters were on that deck, including Qaolin’s own, as well as the one guest cabin. The captain wasn’t sure if he would get the truth out of the I.I. agent if he asked, but he certainly wouldn’t get it if he didn’t.
The soldier assigned to guard the agent’s cabin nodded respectfully at the captain as the door rumbled open. Yovang lay on his bunk, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. At Qaolin’s entrance, the agent sat upright. Yovang did not, the captain noted, use his hands in any way to aid in making himself upright—he simply rose to the proper position. “Captain,” he said in his standard monotone.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Qaolin asked, “Was Narrk an I.I. agent?”
“You speak of your first officer in the past tense.”
“Answer my question, Yovang.”
Yovang stood up. “Why do you ask the question?”
Qaolin was not about to play Yovang’s game. “That is not your concern.”
“Oh, but it is. You see, I must deduce from your phrasing that Narrk is dead, and before he died he gave you reason to think he might be an I.I. agent.”
It seems I must play the game whether I want to or not.“The former first officer of this ship has been replaced. Quartermaster has just disposed of his body. He attempted to deny my challenge on the grounds that he was I.I. and therefore exempt. He also used that lie—if lie it truly was—to justify his insubordination, which was in going to you for a solution to penetrating the force field around the Ch’gran wreckage.”
“In that case, Captain, Commander Narrk deserved his death.”
Qaolin snarled and slammed his fist into the bulkhead of the small cabin. “I’m fully aware of the fact that Narrk deserved to die! If I were not, he would still draw breath! That is not my concern now, Yovang—my concern is, was he telling the truth?”
“What does it matter?” Yovang asked with that small smile he’d used in the captain’s office two days ago. “If he was lying, he dishonored himself and died the death he deserved. If he was not, then he was using his position—and, I might add, violating his infiltration—in a craven act of self-preservation. Whatever one may think of I.I. and our methods, we are not cowards, nor are we totallywithout honor. No agent worthy of the name would ever stoop to what you claim Narrk has done.”
The captain closed his eyes for a moment, restraining his temper. It would do no good to lose himself to anger with this one. The fact is, I will get no answers from him, and any answers he might provide are not ones I can trust.Though, thinking about it, he doubted that Yovang had ever actually lied; he simply was parsimonious with any useful information.
When this was an I.I. mission of reconnaisance, Qaolin accepted that Yovang’s authority on this ship was highest, and he would obey the agent’s orders. Now, however, it was a military engagement, and purely the purview of the Defense Force. That meant that Qaolin’s authority was the highest.
So the captain killed Yovang with his d’k tahg.
The look of surprise on the I.I. agent’s face as Qaolin thrust the knife point into his heart was even more of a treat than the one on Narrk’s, mainly because Qaolin doubted that Yovang had ever beensurprised before.
However, Yovang did not go down without a fight. Even as the life’s blood drained from his chest, the I.I. agent wrapped his fingers around Qaolin’s neck in an attempt to take the captain to the afterlife with him. Qaolin found breaths suddenly difficult to come by. His vision clouded as Yovang’s fingers clenched his throat.
Then the agent’s iron grip loosened. Qaolin was able to breathe freely again even as Yovang fell to the deck.
Down the line, Qaolin had no doubt that he would be made to pay for this action. But that was for later. Right now, Yovang’s presence on his ship was a liability he could not afford. Whether or not Yovang approached Narrk with the solution to the Cardassian security, whether or not Narrk was truly an I.I. agent, didn’t matter. With them both dead, the Wo’bortaswas under Captain Qaolin’s control. If there were consequences, he would face them, but he would not be put in a position where he had to fight the Cardassians with one eye on his back to make sure that someone wasn’t about to stab him in it.
Coughing in an attempt to clear his throat of its recent constriction, Qaolin cleaned the blade of his d’k tahgcarefully, making sure there was no overt sign of Yovang’s blood remaining on it.
When he departed the agent’s quarters, he said to the guard, “See to it that Yovang is not disturbed by anyonewithout face-to-face confirmation from me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bridge to Qaolin.”
The captain looked up. “Qaolin.”
“Sir, long-range scan is picking up a fleet of Cardassian vessels on direct approach for the Raknal system.”
Qaolin smiled. And so the battle begins anew.“How many ships?”
“Nine, sir.”
At that, Qaolin reared his head back and laughed. It was perfect: they had sent as many ships as the Klingons had. Truly we shall test our enemy’s mettle.
Chapter 6
Central Command
Vessel Sontok
“The Eldrakand the Golnorhave both lost their shields.”
Monor pounded the arm of his command chair at Ekron’s report. The Sontokhad combined with the Third Order to do considerable damage to the enemy ships, but despite being outnumbered three to one, the damned Foreheads still had put up a fine fight, critically damaging two of the Cardassian ships.
“Set course—”
“Sir, the Klingons are breaking formation!”
That threw Monor off guard. “What?”
Ekron looked up from his console. “They are setting course outside the system.”
“Follow them!” The Klingons may not have had the neckbones to chase after a fleeing foe, but Monor did. “Pursuit course, top speed.”
“They’re going to warp.”
“Overtake them, dammit! We’ll show those damn Foreheads how to win a fight.”
Ekron nodded. “Yes, sir. Course is 111 mark 47. Klingon ships are at warp seven.”
“Increase to warp eight.”
Shaking his head, Ekron said, “We can only achieve warp seven-point-three, sir—and the other ships can’t even break warp seven.”
Monor stood up; the damn chair squeaking again. “Fine, then, warp seven-point-three. Inform the fleet to keep up as best they can.” He paced down the length of the bridge. “Project course ahead. Where are they leading us? Assuming they’re leading us anywhere and not just flying off like the cowards they are. They can brag about honor all they want, but give them a real foe and they show their true colors, that’s for damn sure.”
“Heading for the Betreka Nebula.”