“Sir, Gorkon was already violating custom and law, and disobeying the orders of his chancellor. If what he was really up to became known, it wasn’t just hishonor that would be forfeit. He’s a Klingon general. Every man and woman under his command, and every member of his House, would share his dishonor, irredeemable even in death. Even if he wanted to divulge the truth, he couldn’t risk it.”
“I think I get the picture now, Commander.”
“So what are we going to do?” Sadler asked.
Reyes looked pensive. “I think, Mister Sadler . . . I see another opportunity.”
After learning what had befallen his ship, Gorkon was quick enough to agree to Reyes’s demand for a meeting. And while he stoically endured the dishonor of Dauntlesstowing the Chech’Iwback to Azha-R7a while his crew recovered from theragen poisoning, much of the wind seemed to have left his sails.
With Fisher and Gannon at his side, Reyes faced Gorkon across the conference table in Duvadi’s office, and for once, the general wore no trace of his derisive smile. Nor were his guards shadowing him this time. Whatever transpired here, Gorkon clearly did not want witnesses from among his own people.
“I know about your son,” Reyes began without preamble. “Doctor Fisher can cure his condition. I’m offering you that assistance, and also my assurance that I’ll back up any story you come up with to give you and your people cover with the High Council. In return, you’re going to give up your claim to Azha-R7a and its inhabitants.”
If Gorkon was surprised by the depth of Reyes’s knowledge, his stony face revealed nothing. After a time he asked, “And if I refuse? What then? Would you withhold the cure that would save my son?”
“No,” Reyes said. “I’m not going to play that game. I’m here because thanks in no small part to my first officer, I think I finally understand what led to this moment, and what’s really at stake for you and your boy. I’ll simply remind you that I just came from saving your ship. Your crew is mostly alive and well because of me. So I suggest you consider carefully what your honor demands at this juncture.”
Gorkon leaned back in his chair. “So . . . you would use my own honor as a weapon against me,” he said. “Coercion.”
Reyes shrugged. “Let’s call it a choice.”
Shortly thereafter, Fisher was given leave to enter the asteroid’s laboratory wing, where Gorkon’s bioscientists struggled to keep a bedridden Kintazh alive. Initially, Fisher’s arrival was met with open hostility. But a few stern words from Gorkon in tlhIngan’Holcleared the way for Fisher to gain their cooperation, assess the patient’s condition, and tailor his theragen treatment to optimize the young Klingon’s chances for recovery. It wasn’t long before Kintazh started showing clear signs of improvement.
As agreed, Gorkon informed Duvadi that she and her people would be released from their debt as soon as his son was well enough to leave.
Duvadi thanked Reyes for all he’d done, and for respecting the Arkenites’ customs. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, Captain.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Reyes conceded. “But maybe it should’ve been.”
Days later, Kintazh was back on his feet, and the Dauntlesstrio returned to observe the Klingon withdrawal from the asteroid. Gorkon, his personal guards, and his son were the last to depart. The Klingons carried themselves proudly as they marched toward the transporter room, barely acknowledging the Starfleet officers watching their approach.
What followed happened very quickly, but each instant was frozen indelibly in Fisher’s memory.
As the Klingons entered the transporter room, Kintazh’s gaze found Reyes, and all pretense at equanimity vanished.
Without warning, the young Klingon drew his d’k tagh,growled something in his native tongue, and lunged.
Reyes, without even a glimmer of surprise in his eyes, easily blocked the initial attack.
Kintazh recovered, then swiped again and slashed the captain’s shoulder, drawing blood.
Gannon, shouting, drew her hand laser.
And suddenly, there was Gorkon. He stepped in quickly, blocking Gannon’s aim, and snapped his son’s neck with his hands.
Fisher started forward, already reaching for his medkit, but one of Gorkon’s guards blocked his path.
Kintazh fell on his back, and as his last breath escaped him, Gorkon knelt down, forced open his son’s eyes and roared at the ceiling.
Into the shocked silence that followed, Fisher moved to tend to Reyes, whose injuries were, fortunately, superficial.
Gannon stood there aghast, unable to believe what she had just witnessed. “I could have stopped him without killing him!” she shouted. “After all you did, after everything we’ve all gone through to save Kintazh . . . why slay your own son?”
“Why?” Gorkon repeated. “You are supposed to be intelligent, Gannon. How can you know us so well, and still ask the question?” He regarded her with disdain, clearly disappointed by her lack of comprehension. “Turn to your captain for answers if they elude you, Commander. He understands . . . finally.”
Gorkon recovered Kintazh’s d’k tagh,stained with Reyes’s blood. He handled it almost reverently. “ ‘I have thee not, and yet I see thee still,’ “ he whispered.
Then he and his guards mounted the energizer stage, and the general called his ship for transport.
Before the beam took him, his eyes met those of Dauntless’s captain. “Die well, Reyes.”
“Go to hell.”
Gorkon and his guards vanished, leaving the apparently unimportant corpse of his son behind.
Fisher moved to check the body, and after verifying that Kintazh was dead, he gently closed the young Klingon’s eyes. The doctor shook his head. “It’s insane.”
Gannon was still visibly shaken. “Sir, I—”
“This was never about saving Kintazh’s life, Hallie,” Reyes said, his eyes fixed on Gorkon’s son. “You said it yourself: it was about prolonging it long enough to give him the chance to redeem himself—so he could die with honor. Kintazh died trying to kill an enemy of the Empire. That’s how he’ll be remembered. And Gorkon performed his duty by executing a member of his House who was about to commit an act of war. Honor is served.”
“I thought I understood them,” Gannon said. “But nothing in my training prepared me for this. Maybe you’re right to hate Gorkon, Captain. Maybe there really is no bridging the gulf between our peoples.”
Reyes met her eyes, and the sadness Fisher saw in his face gave way to a look of grim determination. “Dare to hope, Hallie.”
9
2268
It was twilight when Desai found the leviathan.
Her trek up the southern ridge had been slow and arduous. She followed some well-worn trails when she could, but caution had forced her off the beaten path whenever she felt she was in danger of being discovered. She had to assume the other colonists had quickly learned about her escape from Sgouros’s custody, and Desai wished to avoid any of the search parties that were undoubtedly now looking for her as well as Fisher. Fortunately, she had succeeded in disabling the transponder in Sgouros’s comm unit, so they had no easy way to track her movements.
From the top of the ridge she’d seen the river. Or rather, she’d seen the blanket of fog that clung to it and followed its serpentine course as far as her eyes could penetrate. From somewhere below, the signal she followed called to her.
It took her another hour to reach the muddy, fog-shrouded bank, and it was there that she saw the beached form of what looked like a gigantic aquatic serpent, the full extent of its unbelievably long body lost in the mist. The transponder signal she’d been chasing momentarily forgotten, Desai stood in the mud, marveling at the size and alienness of the life-form—at its dark blue body streaked in pale green, at its toothy mouth that was big enough to close over an elephant, at its strange multiplicity of eyes that seemed to notice her presence, but which regarded her with an unfocused quality. Desai realized then that the creature was dying.