Star Trek: TOS: Cast no Shadow

by James Swallow

  The tension on the bridge leapt a dozen notches as Sulu came up from his chair and matched the general’s flinty glare. When he spoke, there was steel beneath his manner. “I remind you, sir, that many of my people died in this place just as yours did, and, like you, we wish to see swift justice done. I warn you, if you cheapen that loss again, it will not go well between us.”

  Igdar took pause. “That has all the color of a threat, Captain Sulu.”

  “Yes,” he replied, “it does.”

  Miller saw an opportunity and stepped forward to take it. “General, perhaps if we were to meet face-to-face, we could better discuss this situation?”

  “Perhaps,” echoed Igdar. The commander couldn’t be sure, but he thought he detected a vague air of new respect in the Klingon’s voice. “We will arrange it.” He reached for a control on his command throne and cut the signal.

  At Miller’s side, Sulu relaxed slightly. The commander glanced at him. “I was kidding about starting a fight, Captain.”

  “Like I said,” Sulu told him. “The day is young.”

  7

  U.S.S. Excelsior NCC-2000

  Da’Kel System

  Mempa Sector, Klingon Empire

  Sulu chose the observation room behind the starship’s bridge to host the meeting with the Klingons, and Vaughn was sure that the captain had picked it for the theater of the place. With the broad, towering windows looking out onto the ruins over Da’Kel III, there was a real and unforgettable reminder to everyone present as to why they were here.

  Once more, the captain of the Excelsior had delegated the conn to his first officer, and while Aikyn remained on deck, Sulu was joined by Miller, Vaughn, and the ship’s towering Capellan chief of security, Lieutenant Commander Akaar. The security officer stood at stiff attention, and across the room a Caitian guard held a sentry post at the door. Both of them bore expressionless aspects, their focus steady and unwavering.

  On the other side of the table, their Klingon guests seemed indifferent. General Igdar had two troopers of his own standing at his shoulders, and seated to his right was a lone Klingon female whose clothing did not resemble the standard duty armor of the Imperial Navy. If anything, her gear was formfitting and utilitarian, decked with pockets and pouches—more befitting some sort of technician than a warrior. Still, Igdar and his men seemed to treat her with a wary kind of respect, and the careful way she moved set alarm bells ringing inside the lieutenant’s mind.

  “Thank you for coming, General,” Sulu began. “I promise you, this discussion will be worth your valuable time.” He nodded toward Miller. “The commander here has been dispatched by Starfleet to act as the Federation’s on-site investigator into the Da’Kel bombing, and in turn Excelsior is facilitating his mission.”

  “He’s a spy,” said the woman, the hint of a smile playing around her lips. She brushed heavy braids of dark brown hair back over her ears, revealing a subtly complex crest of bony ridges on her forehead. “Darius Miller, Starfleet Intelligence operative.”

  Vaughn shot Miller a look and saw the commander smiling right back at her. “As the general didn’t see fit to do it, gentlemen, let me introduce Major Kaj of Imperial Intelligence’s active operations division.”

  Sulu gave Miller a sideways glance. “I take it the major is the ‘operative from another agency’ you mentioned before?”

  Miller nodded. “We’re . . . acquainted.”

  Kaj mirrored the gesture. “I tried to kill him once.”

  “Didn’t take,” Miller replied. “A good try, though.”

  Igdar made a rumbling noise in his throat that Vaughn guessed was his equivalent of a chuckle. “Perhaps she’ll have the chance again before you leave, eh?”

  Miller went on. “Major Kaj and I have an understanding. She’s been heading up the investigation here about the attack. I contacted her and suggested we pool our resources.”

  The general’s smile froze on his face and he turned an icy glare on the woman. “Is that so? You have been engaging in communications with the—” He barely stopped himself before he said “the enemy.” “The Federation?”

  Kaj’s intense, steady gaze didn’t waver. “What Imperial Intelligence does is not your concern, General. It is not a military matter.”

  Vaughn suddenly found himself in the unusual situation of actually agreeing with the brusque alien general, and he glanced at Miller, who mirrored Kaj’s casual demeanor. “Does Commodore Hallstrom know you were doing this?” he said in a low voice. “Going . . . off book?”

  Miller spared him a look and spoke quietly so that only Vaughn could hear him. “Lieutenant, if you really intend to make a career of being a Starfleet spook, you’re going to have to learn to modify your definition of what counts as ‘off book.’ Are you uncertain about my methods?”

  “Yes sir,” he told him. There seemed little point in hiding the fact.

  “Good. Then consider this a lesson in the nature of fieldwork.” Miller turned away and back to the Klingons. “So. Why don’t we start with what you have so far on the suspects behind the attack?”

  Igdar began a brisk and irritable summary of the events leading up to the subspace blast, but even as he spoke, Vaughn found he could not keep his attention from wandering back to Kaj. The major was unlike any Klingon woman he had ever seen before. In another time and place, he might have found her attractive, but here and now she gave off an aura that he could only define as predatory. Her manner was cool and detached, and yet it was clear she was taking in everything that was going on around her. Vaughn let his instincts interpret who she was: he got the sense of a professional, someone who functioned like a weapon to be aimed at a target and released.

  Kaj noticed his scrutiny and turned slightly toward him, measuring Vaughn for a moment. He got the distinct sense she was figuring out how she’d kill him if the chance ever presented itself. It was hard to determine how old she was: Kaj could be anywhere between five or ten years his senior right up to Miller’s age. Imperial Intelligence were known experts in bio-sculpting and surgical alteration, which meant the major could have been serving the Empire as far back as the heyday of the Federation-Klingon conflicts.

  First Valeris, and now this? he thought. Once more, a cold spike of fear gripped him, and Vaughn wondered if he was in over his head. Too late to turn back now, Elias.

  “With the service of Major Kaj and her organization,” Igdar was saying, with no little sarcasm, “we have made a preliminary determination as to the identity of the spineless cowards who attacked the utility platform. It sickens me to say that Klingons were behind this craven assault, although with this act they have renounced any kinship with the Empire and its people. Chancellor Azetbur had declared them renegades and they have been discommended in absentia.”

  “The House of Q’unat,” said Sulu.

  The general gave a grave nod. “I see you are well-informed, Captain. Yes, the Q’unat clan. Once an honored name in the days of the old dynasty, warriors who fought with courage in defense of our way of life . . . But as time passed, they became hidebound and inflexible. They failed to embrace the future, and grew to be inward-looking and bitter.”

  Vaughn raised an eyebrow. Considering that a reactionary manner was almost a genetic trait for all Klingons, to hear one of them describe some of their own as overly obstinate was quite unusual.

  “The Q’unat . . .” Igdar looked as if he were on the verge of spitting. “They are a disgrace to the Empire. And now this deed has cemented their name in the annals of infamy. When they have been brought to justice, I will see to it that all trace of them is erased from our history.”

  “What makes you suspect they’re behind this?” said Miller.

  Igdar glared across the table. “I do not suspect this, Commander. I know it! My own noble house has crossed blades with the Q’unat before, and we know them of old. All evidence uncovered points to them!”

  “The declaration broadcast over subspace radio before the attack . . .” sai
d Sulu.

  “And more,” Igdar insisted. “Once we knew where to look, we found other proof of their activities.”

  Miller glanced at Kaj. “Have you made any . . . arrests, Major?”

  The woman’s expression remained neutral, and her reply was without weight. “At this time, no suspects of confirmed linkage to the House of Q’unat are in Imperial custody.”

  “They hide like bok-rats,” Igdar snarled. “They will be dragged into the light and put to the sword for their crime, mark me.”

  Vaughn saw a glimmer of doubt in Kaj’s eyes; she didn’t seem to share the general’s ironclad certainty. “Can I ask what this proof you found was, General?” he ventured.

  Igdar sniffed. “A data trail. Movements of illegal funds and bribes.” He gestured as if dismissing a nagging insect. “Falsified shipping manifests and the like. The foundations of guile and duplicity. The major will provide you with pages of recovered documentation, if you do not feel my explanation to be thorough enough, Lieutenant.” The general put hard emphasis on Vaughn’s rank.

  Sulu came to his defense. “You’ll forgive me, sir, but that all sounds somewhat . . . circumstantial.”

  “Men have been executed for less,” Igdar warned. “Unlike the Federation, Klingon law does not mire itself in endless talk and debate!” He pointed a gloved hand at the windows. “There is the crime! We have a culprit. A method, means, and motive! Justice will be done!”

  “You’re just a little shy on proof,” Miller challenged. The general took a breath and was about to retort, but the commander went on. “I fully understand how you must feel, General. This atrocity . . . the Klingon people want retribution, and they want it now. And you seek to be the instrument of that. It’s only right, as the Mempa Sector is under your command. Your responsibility.”

  Igdar’s gaze turned flinty, and Vaughn saw the warrior’s men stiffen at the barely concealed accusation in Miller’s words. Only Major Kaj did not react.

  “With that in mind, the Federation would be remiss if we didn’t fully disclose to the Klingon Empire certain data that has come to our attention regarding the identity of the Da’Kel attackers.”

  “Speak!” Igdar growled, his thick-fingered hands tightening into meaty fists.

  Miller looked at Kaj. “What if I were to tell you that we suspect the House of Q’unat was not responsible for all this? That the true culprits may be hiding in plain sight?”

  “I would call you a fool!” Igdar snarled, his nostrils flaring with anger. “Tell me, Earther! How is it you can know the nature of this act of unspeakable cowardice better than those who were here to witness it? What possible source of information could you have that outstrips mine?”

  “I’ll introduce you to her,” Miller told him, and Vaughn saw the commander nod to the Capellan security chief.

  Akaar returned the gesture and spoke into the grille of an intercom on the wall. “Tiber? Bring in our guest.”

  A moment later the far door to the observation room opened, and the security guard entered with Valeris following two steps behind.

  There was a brief, stunned silence. In the next moment Igdar was on his feet, a guttural curse on his lips and a d’k tahg flashing in his hand.

  Shuttle Suy’rov

  Da’Kel System

  Mempa Sector, Klingon Empire

  Seryl put the shuttle through a swift but careful turn, flanking a massive support tender as it crawled slowly along the edges of the damage zone. The big ship resembled a gigantic insect on its back, metallic gantries reaching up like limbs, some bending to gather in large fragments of hull.

  Twice the local patrols had challenged him, and each time the false identification beacon had passed muster. The cargo shuttle had been captured from a Klingon military base on the far side of the sector, and in the confusion that reigned after the first bombing, the report of that loss had yet to filter through to the ships in the Da’Kel System. It was a calculated gamble to use such a craft, but so far it had paid off. And they only needed to get close enough. No more than that.

  Seryl pulled away from the cover of the tender and applied more speed to the shuttle’s impulse engines, pitching it down toward the third planet. He grimaced at the flotilla of first-responder vessels all around him; he had never been so close to so many tyrant ships before, and it reminded him of a story of Great Krios himself. The tale told of how the First of All Monarchs walked through a chamber filled with vicious nighthunters in order to reach the cell where his love Garuth was being held prisoner, picking his way through the sleeping monsters in stealth and silence. Seryl was the stealthy one now, making his way deep into the den of the beasts—but, unlike the heroic king, he would not return with his prize. Seryl’s destiny was to end here, in a storm of fire and vengeance.

  He glanced over his shoulder, looking back into the crew compartment where Cadik lay. The other man was still breathing, but each inhalation came with a wet, stuttering sound, and Seryl found himself hoping that his comrade might slip away into silence before the moment came. Either way, he would be spared the pain of his radiation burns soon enough.

  As long as this works. The rogue, almost traitorous thought made Seryl’s face twist, and he shook it away. “It will work,” he said to the air. “It will be done.”

  Ahead, through the canopy, he saw more Klingon ships—battle cruisers from the Mempa starbase—and there, drifting among them, the distinctive white and steel shape of a Federation vessel.

  He nodded to himself. It was fitting, he decided. They had allied themselves with the tyrants and turned a blind eye to the crimes of the Klingons. They could perish alongside them, and those deaths would bury the wedge deeper between the two powers.

  U.S.S. Excelsior NCC-2000

  Da’Kel System

  Mempa Sector, Klingon Empire

  The general came at her like a wild animal suddenly set loose from its tethers, his teeth bared and a string of invective spilling from his lips. For one moment all Valeris saw was the shine of the lights on the edge of the blade in his hand, and suddenly she was engulfed by the memory of a similar weapon dancing in the air before her, years earlier.

  Then Tiber was shouldering her aside, blocking the Klingon’s line of attack. Everyone in the room was on their feet, voices were calling out—

  “That’s enough!” Captain Sulu’s bellow was hard and strident. “No one draws blood on my ship!”

  But Igdar’s eyes were locked on hers. “Valeris,” he said, drawing out her name as if it were some arcane curse. “The traitor and assassin!” He stabbed a finger in her direction, still kneading the grip of his knife. “This . . . wretch . . . has a death sentence upon her head, ratified by the Chancellor herself! She is within Klingon space—she is subject to Klingon law! I am within my rights to kill her where she stands!”

  “She stands aboard the Excelsior,” Sulu retorted, “and this vessel is Federation territory. No matter what she has done, Valeris’s rights will be protected—by force, if so required. I suggest, General, that unless you wish this room to be the first battleground in a new war between our peoples, you put up that d’k tahg and sit down.”

  Igdar glared at the captain. Valeris’s initial evaluation of the general had proved to be correct: he was a typical Klingon, without even the veneer of civility present in most emotional races.

  Fury tightened Igdar’s face, but at length he sheathed his d’k tahg and gestured for his men to holster their drawn disruptors. “In the interests of continued peace, then.” He spat out the word. “In return, explain to me why you have insulted my Empire by bringing that filth across its border.”

  The female, the agent Kaj, was the only one who had remained seated, and now she turned a cold gaze on the Vulcan. “I must concur with the general,” she said. “Why is this criminal not in shackles or, at the very least, confined to your brig?”

  “Valeris remains under armed guard at all times,” rumbled Akaar. The Capellan nodded at Tiber and the Caitian. “For
her own protection,” he added, “as well as that of others.”

  Kaj addressed Valeris directly. “On our world, you would have been put to death in the public square of the First City, for all the Empire to see.”

  “I know,” Valeris replied. “I understand that your Ambassador Kasiel made several attempts to have me extradited in order to carry out that exact sentence.”

  “We purged our ranks of all those who sided with Chang and his dishonorable schemes,” Igdar went on. “Can you say the same, Sulu?”

  The captain couldn’t help but glance briefly in Commander Miller’s direction. “The Federation believes in justice, not revenge.” He took a breath. “No matter how personally objectionable you may find the presence of Valeris, she is here to assist us, and her continued involvement is under my authority. Do you wish to challenge that?”

  Igdar’s expression remained granite-hard. “Not yet.”

  “How can this turncoat be of aid to us?” Kaj demanded, eyeing Miller. “I assume she has knowledge of value, if you are so determined to keep her alive.”

  “Valeris has information about the group we suspect are the true architects of the Da’Kel attack,” said the commander. “The Q’unat clan is just a blind, a smokescreen for someone else. SeDveq.”

  For a moment Igdar was struck speechless; then he roared with harsh, braying chugs of laughter. He brought his fist down on the table with a flat crack and the cold amusement on his face vanished like vapor. “Do you think we are fools?” he growled. “You dredge up a name from the past, a pathetic rabble of terrorists hunted down and exterminated years ago?”

  “Like the House of Q’unat?” Vaughn broke in. “Weren’t they also considered to be destroyed?”

  Igdar paid no attention to the interruption. “Those Kriosian agitators were dealt with when they attempted to oust the Klingon peacekeepers sent to their world to maintain stability in the region . . . Nothing of them remains! And if any of them did still exist, they would be no threat to us . . . SeDveq can be nothing more than a spent force at best.” He shook his head. “No. The renegades of Q’unat are the agitators who caused this atrocity, and to claim otherwise is idiocy! I expected better from Starfleet, Captain Sulu. You have allowed yourself to be taken in by whatever lies this Vulcan witch has spun . . . Their kind are no better than their Romulan cousins! What did she want in return, eh? Her freedom?” The general glared at them all. “Did you promise her that?”