And as Sgouros had predicted, the arrowhead pointed straight into the rain forest.
Desai recovered Sgouros’s weapon and set off at a run.
Hang on, Fish. I’m coming.
8
2259
“It’s theragen,” Fisher confirmed, once Reyes, Sadler, and Shey had joined him in Dauntless’s sickbay, where the biobeds were filled with unconscious Klingons requiring intensive care. At the foot of each bed, Sadler had stationed a security guard.
“Theragen?” Reyes repeated. “That nerve gas of theirs? What happened?”
“Some containers that were stored in the surgeon’s bay ruptured, not that anyone would even admit that was the problem. None of them are talking. The only reason I have any hope for these poor souls is that Hallie was able to access the Klingons’ medical database, which included some very superficial molecular analyses of the agent and woefully inadequate treatment recommendations. But it gave me a place to start, and I’m happy to say I’ve been able to improve the treatment considerably.”
“Theragen,” Reyes said again, shaking his head. “I knew Gorkon could be one cold son of a bitch, but I never imagined he was vicious enough to— My God, could that be what he’s doing on the asteroid? Turning it into a chemical weapons factory?”
“No,” Shey said, “certainly not with the equipment in the science labs. I’ve finished looking into their capabilities, and they don’t have the capacity to be used as you’re suggesting, Captain. They’re designed for research and analysis of organic compounds, and not in any way suited for the large-scale production and storage of chemical weapons.”
“Maybe they don’t need to be,” Sadler said. “What if the Klingons’ true objective was to refine the formula for the nerve agent, develop small samples of something even nastier, and then use the Arkenites as guinea pigs?”
Reyes looked at Shey. “Is that possible?”
Shey’s antennae drooped slightly. “Theoretically, yes.”
Reyes’s hands curled into fists. The sickbay doors opened to admit Gannon, but before she could speak, the captain turned to Sadler. “Lieutenant, within the hour, I want a briefing with your recommendations for retaking Azha-R7a, with the objective of neutralizing any biohazardous materials, even if it means we have to put innocent lives in jeopardy.”
Sadler nodded and started for the door, but Gannon stopped him with a hand against his shoulder. “Terry, wait. Captain, I don’t think this is what it seems.”
Reyes looked at her. “And how did you happen to come to that conclusion, Commander?”
Gannon held up a data card. “These are the files from the surgeon’s bay database on the Chech’Iw. I’ve been reviewing them since Doctor Fisher and I got back, along with General Gorkon’s Starfleet Intelligence file. And I’m now convinced that Gorkon is actually trying to develop a counteragent to theragen.”
“Kintazh, son of Gorkon,” Gannon said, naming the young Klingon whose image looked out from the monitor at the end of the briefing room table. “Until recently, he was a weapons officer for Captain Kavau of the I.K.S. Qul qemwI’. He’s the reason all of this is happening.”
Reyes had decided to remain standing during the briefing, and his officers followed his lead, much to Fisher’s annoyance. For the sake of his old bones, he hoped it wouldn’t be the start of a trend.
“Kavau was a singular captain in the Klingon Defense Force,” Gannon continued. “He used theragen to quell uprisings on Klingon subject planets.”
“He used theragen withinthe Empire?” Sadler asked, and Fisher shared his surprise. From everything he’d ever heard, theragen had been used exclusively as a conquest weapon, back before the Klingons abandoned it around the turn of the century.
“That’s what made him so singular,” Gannon said. “Officially, the use of theragen is strictly against imperial policy, chemical and biological warfare being considered dishonorable by most Klingons. That was what led to the ban in 2207. But Kavau had the backing of several powerful members of the High Council who were pushing for the use of unconventional weapons against the Federation. The councillors thought that by reintroducing theragen domestically, they’d demonstrate the effectiveness of such weapons and build more support for them on the High Council.
“That seemed to be the direction things were going until one of the theragen tests backfired, killing three-quarters of the Qul qemwI’crew. They were the lucky ones. The survivors were all terminal, including Captain Kavau and Kintazh. Upon learning what had happened, Chancellor Sturka ordered the program shut down and sent Gorkon to mop up. To provide cover for the High Council, this newest use of theragen was officially disavowed, the captain and crew of the Qul qemwI’branded renegades and criminals. Gorkon’s job was to execute Kavau and the other survivors, and to destroy the ship along with any remaining stockpiles of theragen it carried.”
“I think I see where this is going,” Reyes muttered.
Gannon nodded. “Based on my findings, I think Gorkon couldn’t bring himself to let his son die dishonorably. But Kintazh’s status as a criminal meant that he was ineligible even for ritual death by Mauk-to’Vor,which would restore his honor in the afterlife. His only chance to die with honor was to live long enough to redeem himself. So after executing the other survivors and setting the Qul qemwI’to destruct, Gorkon took Kintazh and several containers of theragen aboard the Chech’Iw—without advising his superiors. Then he put his scientists to work on curing his son.
“But as we’ve now learned, the effects of theragen are beyond the ability of Klingon medicine to cope with, especially if left untreated too long. Faced with that knowledge, Gorkon must have realized Kintazh’s best chance was with Federation medical technology. The problem was, he couldn’t seek it openly; the Klingons have a long-standing distrust of alien bioscience. Gorkon would be risking dishonor for himself and, by extension, for his crew and his entire House—not to mention the wrath of the High Council—by asking the Federation for help.”
“What does that mean for the patients in my sickbay?” Fisher asked. “Not to mention all the people I treated on their ship?”
“It depends on whether or not Gorkon can keep the incident buried,” Gannon said. “What I believe happened next is that Gorkon hatched a scheme to save his son under the pretense of capturing enemy territory and assets—assets that included a state-of-the-art bioresearch laboratory, and a population whose customs he could turn to his advantage. My guess is that he hired a third party to infiltrate the asteroid and perform an act of sabotage that would threaten the colony sufficiently to warrant issuing a distress call, which the Chech’Iwwould be in position to answer first. To throw off the High Council to his true intentions, Gorkon made the Arkenites an offer he knew they couldn’t refuse.”
“Unbelievable,” Reyes said.
“Now we know why the Chech’Iwdidn’t have adequate medical personnel to deal with the theragen poisoning,” Fisher said.
“They’re with Gorkon on the asteroid,” Reyes realized, “trying to treat Kintazh.”
“It also explains why Duvadi was being kept in the lab wing,” Fisher added, “and why Gorkon was going out of his way to keep her happy.”
Gannon nodded. “He needed her help to make sure the unfamiliar lab equipment was being used to its best effect. Her sense of obligation, the thing that ensured her cooperation, depended on his continued goodwill. Kintazh’s lifedepended on it.”
“All this is about saving his son,” Reyes said, shaking his head. “Why the hell didn’t he just tell me?”