“I see,” said the young Klingon, his mind working furiously. If I’m ever going to be a diplomat, he decided, this is a good time to start. “Can I see the body and the evidence—to understand why you think one of these esteemed ladies murdered Overseer Tejharet?”
“Absolutely,” answered Padrin with relief. He turned to the cadre of uniformed officers behind him and said, “You two constables, accompany the seeress to her quarters and make sure she stays there. You two, accompany Professor Karuw to the laboratory and make sure she stays there ... to do her work.”
“This is preposterous,” replied Karuw, shaking her head in disbelief. “Why would I kill him, when he made me regent?” She turned on Seeress Jenoset and said, “You told me you wouldn’t do this to me, not in the middle of this nightmare.”
“I didn’t do anything!” answered Jenoset through clenched teeth.
“Marla, you don’t need to be regent to succeed,” interjected Overseer Padrin. “We’ll continue to help you, but you can’t be regent with this cloud hanging over you. Everyone, go where you’re supposed to be, and concentrate on the job at hand. We’ve lost one life, but we have eight million more to save.”
These final words ended the conversation, and the two strong-willed women and their escorts left the shuttlebay. Remaining behind were Alexander, Overseer Padrin, and the young lad who had accompanied the group.
“Who is this?” asked the Klingon, pointing to the boy.
“This is Farlo, the seeress’s third husband,” answered Padrin. “It is typical for our well-bred females to have three husbands, and he and Jenoset wed on the day we left Aluwna.”
[184] The towheaded lad smiled at Alexander and said, “I’m pleased to meet you, Alexander Rozhenko. I’m just as confused as you are, but I’ll help you any way I can.”
The Klingon smiled back, liking the lad immediately. “Are you the next in line to be overseer?”
Farlo shrugged. “I guess so. But it doesn’t look like it’s a healthy job to have.”
Overseer Padrin blanched at those blunt words. “Let me show you the body and the place he died.”
The Darzor was a relatively small ship, and it only took them a few minutes to walk down the main corridor to a door that was guarded by more constables. They saluted the new overseer and opened the door for him. As they entered the darkened stateroom, Alexander was struck by the luxury of the furnishings and also the odor of a very opulent perfume. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the same scent that Seeress Jenoset had been wearing in the shuttlebay.
In bed lay the gaunt body of an older and quite dead Aluwnan, who must have been the late overseer. He was attended by another elder, who wore a white gown, such as those favored by technicians.
“Dr. Gherdin,” said Padrin, “has no one touched the body?”
“No one but myself,” answered the doctor.
“You know the seeress consort,” said Padrin, pointing to young Farlo. “This is Alexander Rozhenko, a representative of the Klingon Empire. To make sure our inquiry into the overseer’s death is unbiased, he is in charge.”
Once again, Alexander wanted to tell them that he was an engineer, not a policeman, but he kept his mouth shut. “Doctor,” said Padrin, “please tell him what you told me.”
The medical man took a deep breath and consulted a handheld device before answering. “Tejharet was poisoned,” he said bluntly. “There are traces on his lips of ilzeden, a very fast-acting nerve agent which is often used in large-sized pest eradication. [185] There are known antidotes, which are taken by those who work with ilzeden on a regular basis. What I couldn’t tell from my examination is whether he was poisoned or whether he committed suicide.”
“What was his frame of mind recently?” asked Alexander.
“Poor,” answered Padrin. “Of course, none of us have had any reason to be happy lately.”
“He was really miserable at dinner last night,” added Farlo. “I don’t think he liked giving up his powers to the regent.”
The Klingon nodded sagely and said, “Then wouldn’t it be logical to assume that he did commit suicide ?”
“It would be,” answered Dr. Gherdin, “but there’s no trace of ilzeden in this room. If he administered it himself, what did he do with it? Plus he had a visitor late last night.”
“A visitor?” asked Alexander. “Who?”
“We don’t know, but she was female,” said Overseer Padrin. “Our ship is packed with passengers, and one of them saw her in the corridor. The lights were dimmed, because it was the late shift, and the witness couldn’t give us a description—except to say it was a female wearing nightclothes. We know that the overseer and the seeress came back here alone for one unit of time after dinner and then the seeress and the regent went down to Aluwna.”
“Where my father and I saw them,” added Alexander.
Padrin nodded. “Indeed. Then the seeress returned to the ship, apparently was alone for some time, then spent the rest of the night with me.”
“And who discovered the body?” asked the Klingon.
“I did,” answered Dr. Gherdin. “The overseer was taking some medicine for his depression, and I administer it myself. When I chimed at his door this morning, he didn’t answer, although the ship’s computer verified that he was in here. I had the captain override the door security, and he was like this when I found him. You’ll notice that his clothing is disheveled, [186] as if he were ... with someone. The time of death coincides with the sighting of the woman who was seen corning out of here. She could not have entered unless he opened the door for her, so it must have been somebody he knew.”
Alexander took a deep breath while he collected his thoughts, then he glanced at young Farlo, who also sighed heavily. With everything else that was happening on Aluwna, he wanted to tell them to forget this lone death and concentrate on their urgent business. But this was their leader who had been poisoned, and their world was already in a fragile state.
“I know very little about your society,” began Alexander, “but in Klingon society, there is an old tradition of claiming power by murder and violent duels to the death.”
“We have nothing like that!” answered Padrin, sounding aghast at the very idea. “We have a very orderly transition of power based on bloodlines and DNA. Nobody has to commit murder to claim power. Besides,” he muttered, “who would want to be in charge during these troubled times?”
“You benefited,” said the Klingon, “and Regent Karuw suffered. Why was your first act to relieve her of duty? And why would you suspect her of murder, when she was the first to suffer from his death?”
Padrin pursed his lips, as if he were hesitant to answer. He finally said, “Regent Karuw and Overseer Tejharet were lovers, and she and Seeress Jenoset were enemies—due to that and many philosophical matters. Before she was made regent, Marla Karuw was imprisoned for several years. Despite all she has done for us recently, I’m not sure of the regent’s loyalty or her sanity. She and Jenoset were seen arguing last night, and the question of returning power to our family was bound to be a problem, no matter what else happened. I thought it was best to remove that friction from the equation. If she really wants to do her work, she can help Aluwnans without being regent.”
“So you and Jenoset got your way,” concluded Alexander.
[187] Padrin shook his head. “Not my way. I was happy being the seeress consort—I never wanted this job. And now Jenoset will forever be under suspicion, even though I know she loved Tejharet a great deal.”
Alexander rubbed his eyes, feeling way over his head. He would rather be down on the planet’s surface, battling those fiendish moss creatures, than steering his way through this morass. That thought brought him to a disturbing conclusion.
“Doctor,” he said, turning to the white-suited figure, “you need to make sure that no one on this vessel—or any of your ships—has been infected by the fungus we encountered down on the planet. If you haven’t read our dispatches, I urge you to do
so. You have to test everyone on this ship.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” asked the doctor in alarm.
“I do. It might explain what happened to the overseer.” He glanced at the ashen figure lying stiffly in the bed. “Let’s do something about this body.”
“Yes, let me handle it,” said the doctor. “I was only waiting until you could see it. We can put the overseer in stasis in our sickbay until we beam enough people down to the planet to have a proper ceremony.”
“Are you going to stay here with us ?” asked Farlo, looking eagerly at the young Klingon.
Alexander furrowed his bony brow. “I hadn’t thought about it, but I’ve been awake for three days straight.”
“Can he stay with us?” Farlo asked. “We’ve got room. You’ll be moving into this big room, won’t you, Uncle?”
“I suppose,” answered Padrin, looking distraught at the idea of taking both the dead man’s position and his quarters. “May the Divine Hand be with us.”
In the laboratory on the Darzor, Marla Karuw tried to forget her anger and grief long enough to concentrate on her work, but [188] it was almost impossible. All she had the capacity to do was monitor the progress of the work crews rushing to put the satellites back into orbit at the same time that they attempted to stabilize the bioneural networks. That was going as well as could be expected, despite several troublesome readings. Karuw also had to oversee the manufacture of several thousand compact solar-powered transporter booths, to be transported to the planet as soon as the Klingons secured a big enough area.
Fortunately, slaving at her side was Vilo Garlet, who must have been sent by the Divine, because he was able to fulfill all the development work on the transporters, especially their secret purpose to re-terraform Aluwna. If anyone had any questions about the unusual circuitry in the base of the enclosures, they kept it to themselves. The chances were good that nobody asked because nobody had time to consider anything. It was full speed ahead, and damn the consequences.
At first, Marla was a bit annoyed to see Candra, the young friend of the new seeress consort, working alongside Vilo Garlet. But her colleague trusted the young lady, having saved her life, and Marla was in no position to make him mad or turn down capable help. In fact, young Candra went about her duties tirelessly and in good spirits, and she was willing to do the fetching and grunt work they both required. As the units of time passed, Candra became more and more of a fixture in the laboratory, and the former regent thought very little about her. Still she made certain never to discuss her secret plans with anyone but Vilo Garlet, and she was careful to keep their discussions out of earshot of anyone else.
“How is the programming going on the chromasynthesis box?” she whispered during one break when they were alone.
Garlet nodded wearily and said, “As far as I can tell, fine. But with no testing—” He shrugged, letting her finish the sentence.
“But you’re certain that it won’t harm humanoid life on the planet?”
[189] “It’s not Genesis,” he said, bristling at her suggestion. “It doesn’t take existing life as its source of raw material, but it does supplant anything alien that’s not in our matrix. In that way, you could call it the ‘anti-Genesis device.’ However, our flora and fauna will be layered on top pf the existing Genesis growth, with results that I can’t entirely predict. This won’t be the Aluwna we knew, but it will be much closer than what’s there now. At this point, my main concern is the coverage. We’ve got to make sure to get one of these boxes at every hundred measures for it to be successful.”
“Right,” said Marla with a frown. “I’ll have to come up with a good excuse for spreading the enclosures across the planet, instead of concentrating them. Something the Klingons will buy.”
Garlet rubbed his chin thoughtfully and replied, “Since the transporter component is solar-powered and unidirectional, tell them that we must have complete coverage in order to keep them working around the clock. And they have to match up with the satellites.”
“Good idea,” Marla answered with a smile. She glanced at her timepiece and frowned again. “Starfleet’s expert is due to arrive soon. Do you think they’ll let me out to meet her, or will I have to remain a prisoner in my own lab?”
“What they’re doing to you is insane,” he muttered angrily. “We’ve got to overthrow this stupid hereditary system.”
“It seems to be self-destructing,” said Marla grimly. “I wonder who killed him?”
Candra and the other assistants were starting to file in from their break, so Karuw stepped away from her co-conspirator in order to check her progress reports. The next two days would be crucial, she decided, because they would either prepare the planet to receive the eight million survivors—or they would lose them all.
Worf stood in the cavernous shuttlebay of the Doghjey with both of his sons at his side, waiting for the arrival of a Starfleet [190] runabout. Neither one of his boys were in particularly good humor. Jeremy lay on an antigrav gurney that floated at waist level; the young human tried to be brave and upbeat, but he was miserable at the prospect of returning home on his back, wounded. In that respect, he had become a Klingon during his service aboard the Doghjey, and Worf was proud of his adopted son, although he would miss him.
Standing at the ambassador’s other side, Alexander was preoccupied with his new assignment among the Aluwnans, for which Worf felt a pang of guilt. Still he was certain that he had sent the right diplomat to handle the situation, even if Alexander wasn’t so sure. While they waited for the arrival of the runabout, Worf and Jeremy listened to Alexander’s account of the overseer’s suspected murder. Worf could offer little advice or succor. For a Klingon, the murder of a weak, ineffectual leader sounded like the normal course of events. Grief and mourning were to be expected, but undue worry and incriminations ... that was pointless. The old man had not been governing, anyway, and the Aluwnans were nobly carrying on without him.
“Just do your best,” said Worf. “His family will find out in time who killed him, because such secrets can never be kept forever. Then they can wreak their revenge.”
“Father,” said Alexander, “these aren’t Klingons we’re talking about. Violence is not part of their culture, and I think they’re mostly upset that a female carried out the crime. The Aluwnans place their upper-caste women on a very high pedestal.”
“Like that regent,” rasped Jeremy. “She’s the real power.”
“Not anymore,” replied Alexander. “She’s been relieved of her office, although she’s still in charge of the rescue effort. She’s also a suspect in this crime. Father, can’t you give me more help and guidance?”
Worf turned to look at his son by blood, and he slowly shook his head. “You are asking the right questions, which is all I or anyone else could do. If you ask the right questions, the right [191] answers will come. You are just the mirror—they are the ones who must look into it.”
His thick brow furrowed in thought, Alexander nodded slowly.
“Stand clear for docking!” announced a voice, and the heavy doors of the shuttlebay slid open. Because all the Klingon shuttlecraft were gone, helping the Aluwnans with their transporter satellites, there was plenty of room for the larger runabout to enter and find a place to set down. Protected by forcefields, Worf and his sons waited at the rear of the bay and watched the graceful, lozenge-shaped vessel come sweeping into the hangar. Captured by more forcefields, its thrusters shut off quickly, and it dropped to the deck.
After the outer doors shut and the thrusters stilled, the forcefield was deactivated. Worf gently pushed Jeremy’s gumey forward, while Alexander gripped the side bar and helped to steer. The hatch of the runabout opened, and an attractive woman stepped forward to meet them. It had been many years since Worf had seen Dr. Leah Brahms, and she looked somewhat older and thinner, even gaunt, as if she had been suffering. Her chestnut-colored hair was shorter than he remembered and now had strands of gray in it.
“Hello, Mr. Worf,” she said with a smile. “Glad to see you again.”
“You, too, Doctor,” he said with a nod of his head. “These are my sons, Alexander and Jeremy.”
She held out her hand to engage in the human custom of the handshake, and she was very gentle with Jeremy’s bandaged appendage. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve been reading about what you’ve been going through here. I wish I could say it was unusual, but it’s not. What is unusual is the plight of the Aluwnans.”
“I understand your husband died on Seran,” said Worf, bowing his head. “My sympathies.”
“It seems like ages ago,” said the engineer sadly. “Another lifetime.” Brahms looked around, as if expecting to see someone [192] else in the welcome party. “Regent Karuw could not be here?” she asked.
“I’m afraid not,” answered Alexander. “She’s in confinement on an Aluwnan ship, because she’s suspected of committing a crime. But she’s still leading their rescue efforts.”
Another crew member hopped out of the runabout and stepped toward the gurney. “Is this our patient?” he asked. “I hate to rush you, but we’re on a tight schedule.”
Jeremy twisted his head around and asked, “Dad, do I really have to go? I’m feeling much better.”
“You don’t look any better,” said his father bluntly. “We’ll get back to Earth as soon as possible, I promise. All those wounded or killed in the battle on Aluwna will be decorated for bravery. You’ll be the only one on your next ship wearing the Klingon Degh van’a’quv.”
“I’ll wear it with honor,” said the young man with tears welling up under his bandages.
“Good-bye, brother,” said Alexander. “Pump up your basketball.”
“And sharpen your bat’leth,” answered Jeremy hoarsely.
Worf nodded to the crewman, who grabbed the antigrav gurney and steered it through the hatch into the runabout. Leah Brahms and the two Klingons moved off to allow the runabout to prepare for takeoff.
STAR TREK: TNG - The Genesis Wave, Book Four - Genesis Force Page 18