Agents of Influence

by Dayton Ward

  After being approached by her contact within the Syndicate about this proposal of working with a group of Klingon scientists wanting to test a new form of technology designed to disrupt the onboard systems of enemy vessels, D’zinn was intrigued. The idea, as presented to her, offered substantial opportunities to increase her personal wealth and the financial status of her crew, to say nothing of her standing within the Syndicate. It was a simple plan, with the Klingons providing her the necessary safeguards to protect the Vekal Piltari from the disruption-field generator’s harmful effects while it was aimed at other vessels traversing the region.

  The Ivratis asteroid field was a popular route for smugglers, privateers, and others who preferred to travel while avoiding scrutiny. This meant the watchful eye of Starfleet or Klingon border patrols, who tended to avoid the region due to its existing background radiation, which had an actual effect on sensors and other delicate systems. The field was therefore an ideal testing ground for the Klingon scientists eager to put their new invention through its paces, and allowing the Vekal Piltari and a few other Orion vessels to operate in the area—reporting on the disruption technology’s effects on other ships as well as the effectiveness of her ship’s system upgrades—was a simple task. D’zinn and her crew, along with the crews of the other pirate vessels, were rewarded for their efforts by being free to plunder any ships unfortunate enough to find themselves in the asteroid field and subjected to the Klingons’ experiments.

  A cozy arrangement, D’zinn admitted. We should enjoy it while we can.

  They arrived at her quarters and she entered a code into the door’s keypad, granting her access. Tath followed her into the opulent suite of oversized rooms that was her private sanctuary aboard the Vekal Piltari. Ornate, multicolored tapestries lined the walls, which along with a thick beige carpet and silk veils suspended from the ceiling worked to disguise the fact that this was not a luxury apartment on the homeworld but instead a pair of the ship’s retrofitted storage bays. A plush, dark-maroon sofa arranged in a near complete circle was the front room’s dominant furnishing, surrounding a round low table forged from obsidian glass. Behind the sofa was a small yet well-appointed kitchen featuring both cooking appliances as well as a food slot. D’zinn preferred to cook her meals whenever time allowed. Better still, she liked it when opportunity afforded her a companion to cook for her.

  Following her motion toward the sofa, Tath settled himself there while she retrieved a bottle of her favorite wine and two glasses from the kitchen. The engineer fancied the same brand, and was the only person aboard the ship with whom she shared her personal stock.

  “I am not concerned about the Klingons reneging on us,” she said as she poured for them both before setting the bottle on the table. Settling onto the sofa, she tucked her legs under herself. “Even if they decided to take action against us, others within the Syndicate are aware of their activities, and would not allow such a betrayal to stand unchallenged. That is our insurance policy. If we reveal their presence here, so close to Federation territory, it would set off a firestorm within the Federation Council, with the Klingons’ actions being viewed as espionage if not an outright act of war.”

  “We may already be past such a declaration,” countered Tath. He drank from his wineglass, closing his eyes in obvious satisfaction. “We know the scientists working here are operating from within the Empire’s intelligence apparatus, and their efforts are classified even from most members of the High Council. The chancellor will be able to convincingly disavow all knowledge of these experiments and their associated border violations, but that does not alleviate the problem with what happened to the Federation starship and the Klingon cruiser. The loss of these vessels will undoubtedly compel both sides to send additional ships to investigate. While I have my doubts about the ability of the average Klingon warship’s captain and crew to discover what is happening here, Starfleet is more than capable of investigating and learning the truth.”

  D’zinn finished her wine before reaching for the bottle and replenishing her glass. “At which time, the good fortune we have been enjoying to this point will be over.” She paused, studying the glass in her hand as she swirled its contents. “After that? It is entirely possible the Federation and Klingon Empire may go to war with each other, and we will be in the best position to watch it all unfold before our very eyes.”

  Ten

  The tankard sailed across the room, slamming into the stone wall and shattering into uncounted pieces. Its contents splattered everywhere, staining the wall and running downward in rivulets as the cup’s shrapnel fell to the floor.

  It was not nearly enough to assuage Kesh’s mounting fury. He stalked around the room and felt his anger rising with every passing moment. The low-level, crimson-hued lighting from recessed panels and augmented by the flames from torches positioned at regular intervals along the chamber’s walls only served to heighten his aggravation.

  “Spies, walking among us. Working and living among us. Trusted to keep our most guarded secrets, and no one ever suspected a thing. How was this allowed to happen?”

  The other members of the Klingon High Council stood in silence, watching their chancellor storm about the storied hall, which had served as the center of the Empire since the dawn of what now was known as modern Klingon civilization. It was the greatest honor of Kesh’s life that he had been called to serve in this capacity, and not so much as a single day had passed where he did not feel pride swell within him upon entering this most hallowed of chambers.

  Until today.

  “How have we so utterly failed the Empire? What has brought us to this? Incompetence? Laziness? Perhaps there are those among us who are as corrupt as those we allowed into our midst.” He paused his pacing of the room’s perimeter, turning to face the other council members. All of them stared back at him, their faces offering to him expressions of confusion, shock, and fear. These were supposed to be the foremost Klingons in all the Empire, chosen for their proven abilities to lead and their demonstrated desire to guide all Klingons ever forward on a path of prosperity and conquest. Some of them Kesh had known from childhood. A few he had served with as a young soldier in the Klingon Defense Force.

  One, Novek, was his oldest and closest friend, and a warrior to whom Kesh had entrusted his very life, and he would do so again without hesitation. Indeed, Novek had nearly given his own life in defense of Kesh’s more than once over the course of careers that seemed inextricably linked. Kesh had come to know him while serving as a junior officer aboard the I.K.S. Sorvilan, where Novek was posted as a tactical officer. The older Klingon became a mentor, guiding Kesh through the tumultuous learning curve that every young soldier faced after graduating from the military academy. Never one to seek glory or a command of his own, Novek carried out his duties while Kesh and others gained promotions and ever more demanding assignments. Upon receiving orders for his first command, Kesh selected Novek as his second, a position from which the older Klingon never strayed even after his friend left the military and sought political office. With his wife having died years earlier, Kesh looked to Novek for counsel more than anyone else alive. Despite his age and the gray that had replaced his once long, black hair, time had dulled neither Novek’s fierce warrior spirit nor his loyalty to the Empire.

  Their eyes met, and Novek nodded to him in that subtle way Kesh knew meant his friend once again supported him and would do anything to carry out whatever orders he received from the chancellor who also was his lifelong friend.

  “Well?” Kesh barked the single word. To their credit, none of the other council members flinched or otherwise reacted defensively to the unspoken accusation. If they had, he might well have drawn his d’k tagh from the sheath along his left hip and killed each of them. Removing a member of the High Council in such blunt fashion was not a regular occurrence, but neither was it without precedent. So raw was his fury that Kesh cared not at all for whatever conventions governed acceptable behavior even within these wal
ls.

  “Chancellor,” said Shuuq, another of the councilors. “We are still attempting to discern what happened, as well as the extent of their activities. From what I was told this morning, the spies were here for quite some time. They would have had ample opportunity to insert themselves into any number of sensitive areas, both within the government and the military. Indeed, based on what I have gathered, there may well be other such agents operating on Qo’noS as we speak. This is something we will have to devote tremendous resources to investigate, so that we can find and contain this infection before it is allowed to spread any further.”

  “You have spent too much time sitting across a table from Earther diplomats,” said Kesh, not bothering to subdue his contempt. “You talk as they do. Perhaps your thoughts have become polluted by too much exposure to those who speak for our enemies.”

  As one might expect, Shuuq bristled at the remark as well as its deeper implications. One of the council’s younger members, he was nevertheless a proud Klingon, dressed impeccably in the robes and sash denoting his position. His black hair fell beneath his shoulder blades, secured at the base of his neck with a leather band. What his ensemble lacked were the decorations and awards and even weapons of a warrior who had seen battle. Unlike several of his contemporaries here, Shuuq had never served in the Defense Force, owing to some heart defect that in another, less enlightened time would have been a death sentence before he even reached adolescence. Despite this setback, he had devoted his entire adult life to serving the Empire in other ways. Kesh’s predecessor, Sturka, had seen Shuuq’s value early on, assigning him the sort of diplomatic and oversight duties many warriors tended to disdain. His record in this regard was exemplary and was the primary reason Kesh, after assuming the role of chancellor only months earlier, requested he remain on the council. His insights, forged not in the heat of battle but elsewhere and against many of the same adversaries Kesh had faced, were different enough from those of his counterparts that he had proven to be a valuable asset.

  None of this meant Shuuq was a coward, and when he spoke again Kesh heard the barely controlled contempt lacing the other Klingon’s words.

  “Are we to spend the day trading insults, Chancellor, or devoting our energies to seeking solutions to the problems we now face?”

  Instead of responding in kind, Kesh offered a small, knowing grin. “You speak the truth, Shuuq.” He had never truly liked the councilor, owing to his penchant for spending inordinate amounts of time conferring with counterparts within the governments of the Federation and other interstellar powers. Still, that predilection had proven useful on occasion, which was why Kesh had not yet opted to remove Shuuq from the council. Indeed, he was pleased to see the other Klingon refusing to accept the harsh and possibly unfair words thrown his way. It was a rare display of fortitude toward a superior, and one Kesh welcomed.

  There may well be hope for you after all.

  “These spies,” Kesh said as he resumed pacing around the chamber’s perimeter. “Kvaal, Liska, and Toraq. What do we know about them?” He was now abreast of the throne that was his to occupy, but he paid it no heed. He was in no mood to sit idle, preferring to move around while trying to harness his thoughts. The activity also helped to subdue his emotions.

  Focus, Chancellor, he told himself.

  Shuuq replied, “Kvaal was assigned to one of our main energy-production facilities. Not just for the First City but across the planet. His role saw to it he had knowledge of all the energy requirements for military bases as well as civilian population centers.” The Klingon frowned. “By itself, this seems innocuous, but then one realizes he likely was aware of the energy demands for our orbital dock and ship-construction facilities, including the ships currently being built there. He would have known about power requirements for vessels undergoing tests in preparation for launch, which means access to technical schematics and other sensitive information.”

  One of the other council members, Di’natri, stepped forward. Like the majority of those in the room, he was also a former soldier elevated to his current position after a long career in the Defense Force. Unlike Kesh, Novek, and a few others, he had never served aboard a warship but instead was posted as an infantry officer to the imperial ground forces. The experience shaped a perspective different from Kesh’s, making Di’natri a valuable source of alternative insight. However, he could also be an insufferable boor, and on more than one occasion Kesh had imagined various unpleasant demises for him.

  “Toraq presents a different kind of concern,” said Di’natri. “Like Kvaal, he was not a soldier but instead a computer and communications engineer. He was heavily involved in the design of the systems to be installed aboard the K’tinga-class warships. According to what his superiors have forwarded for our review, there is very little about these systems that Toraq did not know. Indeed, he was one of their leading architects.”

  This took Kesh by surprise. “Do you mean to tell me that this spy—this traitor—so insinuated himself into that effort that he actually contributed to the creation of the very systems we will one day use against our enemies?” The very idea was maddening. What kind of vulnerabilities had this petaQ sown into the Empire’s newest class of battle cruiser, which was being developed as a means of countering the Federation’s most powerful vessels?

  “Supervisors have ordered a complete review of the system design,” said Di’natri. “So far, they have found no evidence of any deliberate undermining of the software responsible for controlling these systems. However, an engineer of Toraq’s apparent skill would have knowledge of any design strengths and weaknesses.”

  “Which he could then convey to those overseeing his espionage activities,” replied Kesh. He could feel his anger once more beginning to rise. One did not have to sabotage an enemy vessel if one already knew its vulnerabilities. “This means our most powerful warships could be compromised before they ever leave their construction docks.”

  Di’natri nodded. “That is unfortunately true. However, supervisors overseeing the effort assure me that any points for exploitation can eventually be identified and remedied.” His expression fell. “Unfortunately, that is likely to be a time-consuming process.”

  “There is one small bit of encouraging news,” said Novek. “The agent’s duties were limited to work on systems being incorporated into the K’tinga warships. While there is no denying his presence on the project is cause for alarm, we can take some comfort in the knowledge he apparently was unable to secure any damaging information about our existing ships or our other space- or planet-based installations.” He moved toward Kesh. “I have instructed his supervisors to conduct a thorough examination of any files or records to which Toraq may have had access during his tenure. It is another task that will take some time to complete.”

  Shuuq said, “While those efforts may show that Toraq’s activities, however costly to the Empire they may be, pale in comparison to those of the third agent, Liska.”

  At the mention of the Klingon woman’s name, all eyes in the room turned to focus on Maroq. The oldest member of the High Council, he was like several of his companions a politician whose career began as a brash young military officer. Having lost his own wife to illness some years earlier, the elder Klingon’s grief over time turned into a predilection for drinking and cavorting with younger women. It was a well-known facet of his personality, and for the most part, Maroq was disciplined enough to conduct such frivolities out of the public eye. So far as Kesh knew, he had never allowed this behavior to interfere with his duties. Indeed, many tended to dismiss the activities, but now Kesh wondered if this may have been his weakness.

  “This female,” said Kesh, moving closer to the elder Klingon. “Was she but another of your distractions? Perhaps she used your susceptibility and lack of awareness and discretion to burrow ever deeper into our affairs.”

  Shaking his head, Maroq replied, “No, Chancellor. She was an assistant, nothing more.” He paused, casting his gaze to th
e chamber’s stone floor. “I admit I attempted to entice her, on many occasions, but it never went beyond that.”

  “I commend her on her selective nature,” snapped Novek. “Or, I suspect she fended off your clumsy advances. What better way to take advantage of the opportunities your activities provided her while you were off satisfying your personal needs rather than protecting the security of the Empire.”

  Maroq glared at him. “You dare question my loyalty?”

  “To your glands? Never.” Novek pointed an accusatory finger at him. “But what exactly was this spy doing while you were away debasing yourself? To what vital information did she have access?” When Maroq started to protest, Novek cut him off. “Your response is not required. I already have my answer. A review of the data logs shows numerous entries to protected files regarding military planning and council policy directives. Our plans for border expansion. Strategic outlines for how to deal with the Federation, the Romulans, and numerous other threats to the Empire. If she acquired copies of that data, her handlers will have knowledge of everything we have been developing. The damage may well be insurmountable.”

  Without warning, Novek’s other hand, which until now Maroq thought was simply tucked into the sash he wore across his chest, emerged from the garment along with his d’k tagh. The knife’s blade gleamed even in the council chamber’s muted lighting. Before Kesh or anyone else could voice a protest, Novek slung the weapon across the space separating him from Maroq.