Myriad Universes_ Echoes And Refractions Part 17

J'rak spit on the deck. "Filthy petaQpu'. Go to battle alert! Arm disruptors and open fire!"

Touching a control, Krivaq put the outpost on battle alert. The lights changed to a dull red color, and the outpost's s.h.i.+elds snapped into place.

The No'var Outpost had a full array of disruptor blasters and a quantum torpedo cannon, neither of which had been fired in the five months Krivaq had served there. He feared the disruptors would fail-but no, his status board indicated that the weapons fired as they were supposed to. They struck the Romulan s.h.i.+p head on.

"Rom s.h.i.+elds holding."

"Continuous fire," J'rak said as other officers entered the nerve center. "Load torpedo cannon!"

"Yes, sir. Warbird firing."

Then the lights dimmed further, and Krivaq's console went dark. After a moment, it came back online-and his eyes widened at what it told him. "s.h.i.+elds down! We are defenseless!"

"Keep firing!" J'rak cried. "Hit them with a torpedo spread! And get those khest'n s.h.i.+elds back up!"

Kivik sat at the console across from Krivaq and sneezed. He was allergic to something on the outpost, but n.o.body'd been able to figure out what. Krivaq usually liked it when he was on duty with Kivik because his sneezing always interrupted J'rak's storytelling.

"s.h.i.+elds won't reconst.i.tute!"

Krivaq looked at his status board after the torpedo cannon was emptied. "Rom s.h.i.+elds down to twenty percent." He gave the order to reload the cannon, while the disruptors continued to fire.

J'rak turned to B'Orl. "Get a distress call out! The Mevak should still be in range!"

When the torpedoes reloaded, Krivaq fired another volley, just as the Romulan disruptors struck the underside of the outpost.

Oh, this isn't good, he thought, even though the status board told him that the third torpedo had taken down the Romulans' s.h.i.+elds and that the fourth and fifth destroyed the s.h.i.+p. "Rom vessel destroyed," Krivaq said, then waited for the cheers to die down before continuing: "But our reactor's about to go critical!"

"Reactor control to J'rak, we can't eject the reactor. It's going to blow!"

J'rak pounded the bulkhead. "Quvatlh! All hands-"

Krivaq's last thought before the explosion that destroyed the outpost cut off J'rak's instruction was, Who will mediate the disputes between my brothers now?

3.

Praetor Narviat's Home Ki Baratan, Romulus Romulan Star Empire Narviat, the Praetor of the Romulan Star Empire, sat in his favorite chair and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, trying desperately to stave off the chill. The servants had already raised the temperature in his anteroom by four degrees, but it didn't help. With a s.h.i.+vering hand, he reached for the remedy the imperial physician had prescribed-a tea made from a special blend of herbs that the doctor was sure would ease his suffering.

But ultimately, there was nothing to do but wait for the chills to pa.s.s, for his ears to unclog, and for his nose to stop running. He tried to inhale, to smell the tea, and sniffed instead, smelling nothing but his own mucus-hardly a palliative.

The side door opened to reveal Charvanek, Narviat's consort and also his head of security. Worry lined her lovely face, and softened her hard eyes. It was a side of her few saw, and Narviat appreciated it.

"The representatives from the Tal s.h.i.+ar are here," she said without preamble. She'd already expressed concern over his sickness, and she was not one to repeat herself, especially since Narviat was already doing all he could. "Shall I send them away?" Her tone implied that she thought his answer to the question should be yes.

"Who is here?"

"Colonels Lovok and Koval."

Narviat sighed. Or, rather, he tried to, but his congestion transformed it into a ragged cough that made his throat feel as if it were filled with loose gravel, and that almost caused him to lose his grip on the tea mug. After clearing his throat, he said, "No, I will see them."

"Narviat-"

"Lovok and Koval wouldn't be here if it wasn't important, my consort. Allow them an audience."

Now Charvanek's eyes burned, but she only said, "As you wish," and departed through the same door.

Narviat sipped more of the tea, the hot liquid burning his tongue. Why must all remedies be so hot?

Moments later, Charvanek reentered, followed by Lovok and Koval. Both men wore the simple gray jumpsuits that many of the Tal s.h.i.+ar favored.

"The praetor is unwell," Charvanek said, "so I would ask, Colonels, that you be brief."

Koval inclined his head toward Charvanek and said solicitously, "Of course." As with everything that came out of Koval's mouth, it sounded oily and insincere. Narviat tolerated it only because that insincerity was what made him good at his job.

Indicating the couch opposite his chair, Narviat said, "Have a seat, gentlemen, and tell me what is so urgent that the Tal s.h.i.+ar visits me in my sickbed."

Lovok took the proffered seat and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone that Narviat found a welcome contrast to Koval. "We will be brief, Praetor. We have received word from our spies in Klingon s.p.a.ce that the High Council has seized lands belonging to the Houses of Qorvos and Taklat."

Narviat sniffled and set down his tea mug. "Both Houses? Has a reason been given?"

"It was done in a closed council session," Koval said. "That alone is suspicious."

Charvanek, who remained standing, snorted. "If Gowron's acting in secret, it means he's scared of something."

"Or he knows where those Houses' loyalties lie," Lovok said. "Praetor, it is my belief that we must abandon this particular plan. We lost the House of Duras during Gowron's ascension."

"Thanks to Sela," Koval said with disdain. "Her inability to circ.u.mvent a simple blockade ruined that campaign. The empire would have been ours. Instead, we lost our strongest ally among the Klingon aristocracy, and with Qorvos and Taklat's fall, we lose two others."

Shaking his head, an action that only made the blockage in his ears worse, Narviat said, "I was never sanguine about the plan. Buying influence with Klingon n.o.ble Houses that were dest.i.tute after Praxis may have seemed tenable eighty years ago, but now?" There was also the fact that the plan was hatched under the reign of Praetor Dralath, Narviat's mad predecessor. Narviat had been willing to try to use their influence over House Duras to gain control of the High Council, but Sela's incompetence had ruined it. Only at the insistence of the Tal s.h.i.+ar did Narviat not scuttle the whole thing.

Charvanek spoke. "Gowron must know that those Houses were loyal to us. This may well be the prelude to action against us."

Lovok shook his head. "He doesn't have enough of the military on his side. They'll follow his orders, of course, but he barely had enough support to win that civil war, and if it weren't for Kurn's throwing in with him, that would've been a three-front war."

"And Gowron initially resisted the return of their messiah," Koval said with obvious disdain. "True, he elevated him to a meaningless t.i.tle of emperor, but only to keep the empire from fracturing further. Gowron does not have K'mpec's skill for building consensus or for rallying the troops. That new general he put in charge of the Defense Force-"

"Martok," Lovok said.

"Yes, him-he's popular with the military, so his appointment might make Gowron an easier chancellor to follow into battle, but I don't think we have to worry about-"

Charvanek's personal comlink beeped. "Excuse me," she said, stepping off to the side. Narviat recognized the type of beep the comlink emitted-it was an emergency frequency. The praetor hoped desperately that it would not be something that required his services. As soon as the two colonels departed, he was going back to bed; all this talk of Klingon politics had exhausted him.

When Charvanek was done speaking, she turned back around, a look of pure fury on her face. "The warbird Grimar, under the command of Subcommander Lar, has fired on the No'Var Outpost in Klingon s.p.a.ce. Both the Grimar and the outpost have been destroyed."

Narviat couldn't believe his ears, and thought that perhaps they'd become more clogged. "What?"

Lovok and Koval exchanged glances.

"The Grimar has crossed into Klingon s.p.a.ce and made an unprovoked attack on a Klingon outpost, destroying itself in the bargain."

Blinking several times, Narviat asked, "Why?"

"I intend to find out," Charvanek said in a tone that made it clear that bodies would fall in her wake if she did not determine the reason for Lar's insane behavior quickly. "If I may take my leave?"

The two Tal s.h.i.+ar operatives rose from the couch. "We must depart, also," Lovok said. "There are some details that need to be attended to regarding those Klingon Houses, and perhaps we too can determine the reasons for the Grimar's attack."

Koval added, "And manufacture new reasons for the public-and the Klingons-should it be necessary."

Narviat nodded, and waved all three of them off. If anything would galvanize the Klingon military behind Gowron, it would be an unprovoked Romulan attack on one of their border outposts. Elements, what was Lar thinking? Early in his praetors.h.i.+p, Narviat had learned the folly of attacking Klingon worlds. It had been Koval himself who had brought him the intelligence that the Klingons were developing metagenic weapons on Khitomer. Ostensibly, they were for Chancellor Kravokh to use against the Carda.s.sians in their ongoing conflict, but the reasons mattered less than the weapons' existence.

While the subsequent attack on Khitomer did destroy the weapons before they could be created, the damage was considerable. The Klingon-Federation alliance-which had already been brought from the brink of destruction by Dralath's insane attack on Narendra III-was made even stronger, and Kravokh himself was replaced by K'mpec. Unlike Kravokh, K'mpec remained alert to possible Romulan threats.

Sniffling again, Narviat rang for his servants. He needed to get back to bed, and hoped that Charvanek would handle this disaster.

4.

Palais de la Concorde Paris, Earth United Federation of Planets Edmund Atkinson had been covering politics for the Times of London for twenty years, and specifically covering the Palais de la Concorde for five, and he had yet to not experience a mild thrill when he walked into the council chambers.

A rectangular room located at the center of the building's first floor, this was where the Federation Council met, as well as the various sub-councils, and was where much of the business of government was done. Right below this floor was the street-the Champs-Elysees ran under the fifteen-story building, which was supported by four duranium pillars. The structure stood on the very site where, in the twenty-second century, the Traite d'Unification was signed, uniting all Earth's governments into one.

The Federation was, at its heart, ridiculous. Creatures who'd evolved on hundreds of different worlds, people who'd formed nations that ranged from one continent on one planet to several dozen colonies, alien beings who had absolutely nothing in common save the simple fact of sentience-and yet, for more than two hundred years, they had come together in this room and done the business of government in a manner that was wholly democratic and egalitarian.

Atkinson's first opinion column for the Times was on that very subject, and that had been before he was a.s.signed to the Palais and got to see it up close. If anything, that made him more impressed, that more than a hundred contentious beings, not a single one of whom evolved on the same planet as any of the others in the room, could collaborate.

The Federation president's office was located on the fifteenth floor atop the structure. Currently that president was Jaresh-Inyo, a Grazerite who had just won a second term in a landslide. He had called an emergency session of the Federation Council, which was why Atkinson was here rather than in his home office in London, putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches on his latest column.

Depending on what happened in the next few minutes, that column may yet have a different topic. Atkinson had no idea what the subject of this meeting was, and his fellow members of the fourth estate either didn't know or were pretending they didn't.

About half the councillors were in their seats on the benches that lined the east and west walls of the chambers. Many were talking among themselves, others to people on the viewers at their stations.

When the doors to the south wall parted, and three plainclothes security guards entered, it heralded President Jaresh-Inyo's arrival. The ma.s.sive Grazerite walked in at a brisk pace, approaching the podium that was decorated with the emblem of the United Federation of Planets. The podium faced the speaker's floor, which sat between the two sets of councillors' benches. During a session, only the person at the podium and someone on the speaker's floor could speak for the record.

The room quieted down as the president approached the podium. "Gentlebeings, thank you for coming. We will forgo roll call. Half an hour ago, a message was sent to the Federation Council from Carda.s.sia Prime by the Detapa Council, with the request that it be played in open council-hence this emergency session."

The president then looked to the side at the clerk, who nodded in response, and touched a control on her desk. Behind the podium, the viewscreen lit up with the face of a familiar Carda.s.sian. Kotan Pa'Dar was a longtime member in good standing of the Detapa Council, Carda.s.sia's civilian governmental body. Recently, Pa'Dar had been elevated to the position of first speaker.

While that meant a bigger salary for Pa'Dar, it meant little beyond that, as the Detapa Council was quite toothless. The Carda.s.sian Union was run by Central Command and the Obsidian Order. The council's function was purely ornamental-which made Atkinson wonder just what they could have to say that would necessitate an emergency session.

"My name is Kotan Pa'Dar, First Speaker of the Detapa Council. I carry a message from the Carda.s.sian Union to the Federation Council, the Romulan Senate, the Klingon High Council, the Tholian a.s.sembly, the Tzelnira, and the Breen Confederacy."

Atkinson thought it interesting that Pa'Dar named the major powers in the quadrant. Only two were left off. One was the Gorn Hegemony, though one could argue whether they counted as "major." The other were the Ferengi. One could argue their having so lofty a status as well, but just in terms of territory, the Ferengi weren't a power to be ignored, for all that they preferred capitalistic endeavors over imperialistic ones.

"As of this day, the Carda.s.sian Union has absorbed the Ferengi Alliance."

A rumble of surprise went through the chambers. That explains that, then, Atkinson thought as he started taking notes on his padd.

"Grand Nagus Zek has retired. All citizens of the Ferengi Alliance are now citizens of the Carda.s.sian Union-and all contracts with Ferengi are now to be considered contracts with Carda.s.sia. This means that these contracts may be subject to renegotiation in order to conform with Carda.s.sian law. On behalf of the Detapa Council, as well as our comrades in Central Command and the Obsidian Order, we thank you for your time."

The screen went dark.

More rumblings went throughout the gallery on the north wall, where Atkinson sat furiously typing notes into his padd. The president then said, "Silence, please!" and the room quieted-a neat trick, considering how soft-spoken the bulky Grazerite was.

"Thank you. Gentlebeings, obviously this sudden expansion of the Carda.s.sian Union will have serious repercussions, both on our shared borders, and on any contracts that might have to be renegotiated as First Speaker Pa'Dar pointed out."

President Jaresh-Inyo went on, but Atkinson was already composing his notes for his next column. And he had some people to get in touch with. Carda.s.sia had been holding steady of late. They hadn't changed their borders in years-they even ceded several border colonies to the Federation, after agreeing in principle to an arrangement whereby several Federation colonies would become Carda.s.sian property and vice versa, as well as the establishment of a Demilitarized Zone. The reversal of the Carda.s.sians' position had been spun as a major diplomatic victory, but Atkinson's sources had told him that this was purely an internal decision on Carda.s.sia's part.

So why are they choosing to expand now? And how did they get the Ferengi to just become part of the Union like that? Knowing the Ferengi, there had to be a lot of money changing hands, all in the direction of those big-eared capitalists. So where did Carda.s.sia get the latinum? They've never been the richest nation in the quadrant.

Too many questions. Atkinson was looking forward to trying to dig up the answers.

5.

The Great Hall First City, Qo'noS Klingon Empire Savalor, Romulan amba.s.sador to the Klingon Empire, hated his job.

Klingons had an appalling inability to clean up after themselves. The fastidious Savalor had found living on Qo'noS to be an incredible ch.o.r.e, because everywhere he looked there was food and garbage and dirt and sweat and filth. Even the wealthiest Klingon lived in putrid squalor by Romulan standards.

It had, of course, been his own fault. He had spent his academic years studying the Klingon Empire, having been fascinated by its ebbs and flows over the centuries-the internecine squabbling, the unification by Kahless, the Hur'q invasion, the emergence as a s.p.a.cefaring power, the virus that caused the QuchHa', the Praxis disaster, the rebuilding-and thus became the Romulan Empire's leading expert on Klingons.

Becoming the amba.s.sador to Qo'noS should have been the pinnacle of his career.

Instead, he found out the one thing that his years of study never told him: Klingons were filthy. They did not bathe, they ate like animals, they drank in a manner that left more liquid on the ground and in their beards than went down their gullets. Savalor knew everything there was to know about Klingon history and culture, could not only sing along with all the most famous operas, but also could list all the places that opera had been performed and who the lead was in each production, knew the details of the creation of all the most popular Klingon weapons, knew all the stories of Kahless-yet he somehow managed to miss the fact that they were truly disgusting creatures to be around.

He had requested to be rea.s.signed many times, but each time Praetor Narviat said he was too valuable in that position. Savalor understood the importance of serving the empire, he was very well compensated for his work, and his family's standing had improved tremendously within the empire as a result of his posting.

But he died a little every day that he was stuck living on this cesspool of a planet.

Today would be even worse. One of the challenges of being a politician in the Klingon Empire was that Klingons had a cultural bias against falsehood. Exaggeration, posturing, self-aggrandizement-those were all acceptable, as long as there was a seed of truth at the center of them. But out-and-out lying to a warrior-particularly to the chancellor or a member of the High Council-was an invitation to have a d'k tahg plunged into your chest.

Savalor, of course, lied with ease and skill, thanks to years of practice in both academia and politics, but he feared that one day he would do so in a sufficiently transparent manner that Gowron or one of the councillors would order his death, not only disgracing him and his family, but also plunging the Romulan Empire into war.

So now, as he waited in the gallery for the entire High Council to a.s.semble, he went over in his head what he would say, and hoped it would be enough for Gowron.