“No doubt,” Dax said with a bitter chuckle, especially given that he recalled Sarek’s father Skon saying something similar to Tobin Dax once. “But that’s why this hurts so much. It’s not enough that Garrett and Troi and General Worf and so many others are dead—it’s that I’m the one responsible.More to the point, I have to live with, and go on living with it for a very long time.” Dax let out a short laugh. “But enough of my existential ramblings. You know what’s truly ridiculous? Klingon Imperial Intelligence warnedKravokh about a possible Romulan attack, and he ignored it. His entire being has been focused on the Cardassians and on regaining Ch’gran. It’s costing him support. Some of the other councillors are managing to patch up the damage—one in particular, K’mpec, is proving to be a valuable ally—but Kravokh is still focused on Ch’gran to the exclusion of all else.”
“Klingons do have a tendency toward single-mindedness—especially when it relates to something they hold sacred, or something they fear. Since warriors do not admit fear, that makes them all the more fanatical when confronted with it.”
That got a rise out of Dax. “And what, pray tell, is the logic in telling me something you are damn well aware that I already know?”
Again, Sarek’s almost-smile. “Because, my former pupil, you are not asking the right questions.”
Rubbing his chin, Dax thought a moment. “Why is Kravokh so focused?”
“That would be a right question,”Sarek said with a nod.
Dax thought back to his address to the Council. In particular, he remembered the expression on Kravokh’s face when he cut Dax off.
“Fear.” He stared at the viewscreen. “Kravokh is afraid of something. Something having to do with Raknal V—or, more likely, Ch’gran.”
“If you learn the answer to that question, it may lead you to the path you obviously wish to tread on.”
Grinning, Dax asked, “And which path is that?”
“You will learn that when you find the answer.”
Again, Dax shook his head. “You’ve been reading Zen philosophy from Earth again, haven’t you?” He held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. In any case, you’re right. I need to find out more about our esteemed chancellor.” He grinned. “And I know just the man to help me.” Putting a respectful look on his face, Dax said, “Thank you, Sarek. As usual, you have helped me focus.”
“Pray, then, that you do not outlive me, for who shall give you that focus after I am gone?”Before Dax could formulate an adequate retort to that, Sarek held up his hand in the Vulcan salute. “Peace and long life, my pupil.”
Dax returned the gesture. “Live long and prosper, my teacher.”
After Sarek’s face faded, Dax contacted Starbase 343 and put in a request with the communications officer there for her to track down Elias Vaughn.
As he walked alongside K’mpec toward the entryway to the seat of the House of Mogh, Lorgh felt a combination of uneasiness and pride. The latter was due to the fact that K’mpec was walking alongside him, and not behind him in an attempt to slide a dagger into his back. If all those Klingons—and Starfleet officers, if it came to that—had to die at Narendra III two turns past, at least their deaths had benefitted the Empire. In general, the Enterprise’s sacrifice led to many new trade agreements between the Federation and the Empire, a strengthening of the bonds that Chancellors Gorkon and Azetbur forged fifty-three years ago.
In particular, K’mpec had come to realize the value of Imperial Intelligence. K’mpec had gone from implacable enemy to I.I.’s greatest advocate on the High Council in a mere two years.
A servant opened the door for Lorgh and K’mpec silently, leading them into the sitting room. It was a massive space, with grand double-door entrances (most propped open) to every other room on the ground floor, as well as a staircase leading to the second level. Each piece of furniture sat next to a pedestal on which statuary rested; the walls were hung with weaponry, primarily from the Third Dynasty, and an especially fine tapestry that took up the entire south wall, rendering Kahless and Lukara at Qam-Chee. Lorgh recognized the work of Danqo, an artist renowned for sewing tapestries from the fur of animals he killed with his bare hands—though Lorgh knew that he had become sufficiently renowned that he now had a massive estate where he bred the animals, which were mostly killed by assistants hired for the purpose. Still, only the richest Houses had Danqo’s work.
Lorgh noted that one item was missing from its usual place on the wall, but the roar of a small child answered that question in short order, as a six-year-old boy ran through the sitting room, wielding the House bat’lethlike a champion as he chased some invisible enemy. Lorgh could see traces of the boy’s grandfather in the child’s face: the old general’s eyes and hard-lipped mouth had been passed down.
That, and the deep voice. “You will die, traitor!” he bellowed to no one in particular as he ran into the next room without even acknowledging the two new adults in the house.
“Worf! Get back here!” That was the boy’s nurse, Kahlest. Lorgh looked over to see her running down the stairs. “Worf!”
Kahlest was a beautiful woman with lustrous black hair. Her fierce face was lined with the frustrated fury that only a misbehaving child could inspire. Lorgh looked over and saw the lascivious look in his comrade’s eyes. K’mpec had made no secret of his desire for Worf’s nursemaid.
Upon seeing them, Kahlest stopped short, and stood in a more respectful posture. “Sirs. I was not aware that you had arrived.”
“We just did,” K’mpec said. “It is verygood to see you again.”
Smiling, Kahlest said, “I’m sure it is. I must chase down Worf before he kills himself or his younger brother.”
“Of course,” Lorgh said.
The servant who had let them in had already disappeared, and moments later, Mogh and Kaasin came in from yet another entryway. Mogh favored them with a rare smile. “Welcome, my friends, welcome. It is good to see you both. You will, of course, stay for a meal?”
Lorgh could hear both of K’mpec’s stomachs rumble at the prospect. “As if we would turn such an offer down.”
Soon they were all seated around the dining hall table—Mogh, Kaasin, Kahlest, Worf, and even the newborn, Kurn. It had taken Kahlest several minutes to pry the family bat’lethout of Worf’s hands. She placed the heirloom—which had been part of the House of Mogh for nine generations—back in its place on the sitting-room wall, then rejoined them in the dining hall.
Almost as big as the sitting room, the hall had two more Danqo pieces on opposite walls. The kitchen staff brought in plate after plate of mouth-watering dishes, from rokegblood pie—which Worf devoured eagerly—to the best heart of targLorgh had ever tasted.
They spoke of many things, most of them revolving around the infant who spent most of the meal throwing his food around. He’ll be at home in a Defense Force vessel’s mess hall,Lorgh thought with amusement.
“Kurn is a difficult child, but a strong one,” Kaasin said as she elegantly placed a handful of gaghinto her mouth. A mok’baramaster, Kaasin had already regained her fighting form despite being only a month removed from birth giving. Some women took years, but one did not become a mok’baramaster by allowing such trivialities to interfere with being in the best possible fighting condition.
“Which is why he will be coming with us to Khitomer,” Mogh said proudly.
At that, Lorgh and K’mpec exchanged a quick look. “That may not be wise,” Lorgh finally said.
Mogh frowned. “Why not?” he asked in as dangerous a tone as Lorgh had ever heard him use to a superior.
K’mpec growled slightly, reminding Mogh of his place. Then he explained: “Your assignment to Khitomer is notwhat it appears to be. We dorequire you to supervise the upgrades to the Defense Force installation, as your official orders state.”