“With any luck, he will wield it more skillfully than his father.”
At that, both men laughed. “He could hardly do otherwise. Kaasin has employed a nurse—I think you’d like her. Her name is Kahlest, and Worf adores her.”
“I look forward to meeting her—and seeing your son wield the weapons of a warrior.” He slapped Mogh on the shoulder. “Come. It has been too long since we shared a meal and a mug of warnog.”
“Indeed it has. And such a meal has been prepared—for three.”
“Anh?” K’mpec didn’t like the sound of that.
Mogh’s old formality quickly returned. “An old family friend is on board, sir. When he heard you would be taking this tour, he arranged to be on board as well. He wishes to speak with both of us.”
K’mpec frowned. He did not like surprises. Still and all, he followed the captain out of the transporter room. Trailed by two guards—Mogh’s own personal guard and the one that had been assigned to K’mpec—they proceeded to the captain’s cabin.
With a grinding rumble, the door opened to reveal the smell of fresh rokegblood pie, racht, bregitlung, and plenty of warnog.K’mpec smiled, and both his stomachs—which had grown distressingly wide in his years on the High Council—rumbled in anticipation.
That smile turned into a frown when he saw the room’s occupant.
“Lorgh.” The word came out as a low rumble from deep within K’mpec’s throat, almost harmonically balanced with his hungry stomachs. “This I.I. petaQis your ‘old family friend’?”
“Yes,” Mogh said simply. The door closed behind him, leaving both guards outside. Mogh took a seat, as did Lorgh. K’mpec remained standing, staring angrily at the I.I. agent.
Smiling widely, Lorgh asked, “Aren’t you glad to see me, K’mpec?”
“I have no use for you, Lorgh, nor for the rest of your organization.” K’mpec practically spat the words.
“We’re aware of your designs to have Imperial Intelligence disbanded, K’mpec.”
K’mpec snorted. “I have made no secret of it. Nor do I make a secret of this, now: I will not eat with you. I will not drink with you. Leave this ship, or I will have you put to death.”
“This is myship, K’mpec.” Mogh, as ever, spoke in a respectful, professional tone. “And Lorgh was a friend to my father. That makes him a friend to me.”
That was foolish,K’mpec admonished himself. If K’mpec took any action against Lorgh, Mogh would feel the need to avenge it. Mogh was passionate about few things, but family loyalty was one of them. The more time had passed, the more certain K’mpec was that Mogh had made sure that the Boklarand Gul Onell were destroyed nine years ago to avenge his father’s death at Onell’s sister’s hands. Three years ago, Mogh and his mate, Kaasin, had their first child, a son, whom they had named Worf after the boy’s grandfather. If Lorgh was a friend to the dead general, then he was a friend to Mogh, and therefore a friend to K’mpec as long as he considered Mogh a friend.
K’mpec had been able to use Mogh’s actions against the Boklarin his favor, as they put him in the good graces of Kravokh when he rose to power. K’mpec had aspirations of his own, after all. And Mogh was now a ship captain, who owed that posting to K’mpec, and who, in turn, commanded great loyalty. It was an alliance K’mpec could not afford to jeopardize just because he despised Imperial Intelligence and all it stood for.
At least not now.
“Very well.” K’mpec sat his ample frame down in the third chair, gathering his floor-length cassock around him. “I will hear your words, Lorgh.”
Chewing on a couple of serpent worms, Lorgh said, “That is quite generous of you, K’mpec.” He swallowed his racht,washed it down with some warnog,then let his own smile fall. “I can assure you, what I have to say is of great moment.”
“So you indicated.” Mogh stuffed a piece of bregitlung into his mouth.
Lorgh looked at the captain. “Years ago, your father told me of knowledge he had of certain Klingon Houses’ dealings with the Romulans. The House of Duras, for example, sold ships to the Romulan military.”
“That was decades ago,” K’mpec said dismissively as he cut off a slice of blood pie.
“So was Praxis. But its destruction led to economic ruin for many strong Houses—and opportunities for smaller ones to improve their fortunes. There are many Houses—some of whom have ample representation on the Council—who owe a great deal to Romulan assistance given during the last four decades.”
K’mpec frowned. He knew that several of his fellow councillors had favored keeping good relations with Romulus. K’mpec hadn’t given it much consideration one way or the other, seeing as how the Romulans had remained isolationist for the most part since Tomed.
Mogh asked, “How much of this is due to the influence of the House of Duras?”
“It is safe to say that it is considerable.”
“Based on what?” K’mpec asked.
Lorgh regarded K’mpec with a withering expression. “Intelligence we have gathered.”
This provoked a deep-throated growl from K’mpec. “Be wary, Lorgh. I do not appreciate being lectured to by the likes of you.”
“I.I. knew of some of this, but since General Worf’s death, I have pursued the matter more closely. I have learned two things. One is that many on the High Council are linked to the very Houses that owe the Romulans a considerable debt.”
“So you said. Have you any proof?”
Lorgh smiled. “Nothing I could present in a meqba’,but I do trust my sources.”
Before K’mpec could object further to this foolishness, Mogh said, “What is the second thing you have learned?”
K’mpec had to force himself not to call his former first officer a fool for even listening to this, but he held back. Lorgh, curse him, had chosen his words wisely when he mentioned the involvement of the House of Duras. The rivalry between that House and Mogh’s own went back several generations. In fact, K’mpec had contributed to it when he chose Mogh as his first officer over Ja’rod, the current House head. Regardless, if the House of Duras was involved, Mogh would be interested.
“The current Romulan praetor, Dralath, is losing the support of his people and the military. The former are chafing under economic restrictions that threaten to crush them, and the latter grow frustrated with their continued isolationism. Their emperor is an old weakling. Dralath may decide to restore his position by making a strike against us.”
K’mpec stood up. “I will listen to no more of this idiocy. I do not know what game I.I. is playing, Lorgh, but you may remove my piece from the board.”
Mogh also rose. “K’mpec, at least hear him out.”
“I have heard all that I need to. If Romulus has such influence over the High Council, why would they attack us? And why would they break over thirty years of hiding now?” With that, K’mpec turned and moved toward the door. “I assume the guard you assigned me can escort me to my cabin.”
As the door opened at K’mpec’s approach, Lorgh said, “We are letting ourselves be distracted, K’mpec. This ongoing conflict with the Cardassians, tension with the Federation when they have been naught but our staunch allies—it leaves us vulnerable. Romulans are like wamserpents: they can sense weakness, and then they strike.”
“Mneh.” The grunt was all K’mpec could bring himself to say as he departed. Let Mogh believe this I.I. fool. I will have no part of it.
Lorgh’s final comments were not entirely wrong, of course. Kravokh had insisted on being aggressive with the Cardassians and with the exploitation of Raknal V to a degree that was well out of proportion to the rewards that would be gained. Yes, Ch’gran needed to be restored to the Klingon people, but after so long, it would hardly have the impact on the populace as it would have fifteen years ago. Unfortunately, that single-mindedness led Kravokh to avoid coming to any kind of decision regarding the Federation. Kaarg and Ditagh’s incompetence had let the alliance that Gorkon and Azetbur built begin to crumble, and Kravokh was doing nothing to rebuild the foundation.