Riker laughed. “That, sir, would have to be one very interesting story.”
“We have them, Number One,” Picard said. “We have them.”
“Sir,” Data said. “We are within range of Deep Space Nine.”
“Hail them, Mister Data,” Picard said.
He again stood, pulled his shirt into place, and faced the screen as Commander Sisko’s smiling face came on-screen.
“Permission to resume our position?” Picard asked.
“Granted,” Sisko said. “And welcome back.”
“It’s good to be back,” Picard said. And he meant it. “I will see you before tomorrow’s meeting.”
“I look forward to it,” Sisko said.
“Picard out.”
“Mister Data,” Picard said, not turning from the main screen that now showed the station. Dukat’s ship had moved back into a place near the other Cardassian ship. “Hail Gul Dukat.”
“Aye, sir,” Data said.
A moment later the main screen was filled with Gul Dukat’s smiling face. He was sitting in his command chair, looking very relaxed and very happy with himself, as only a Cardassian can manage to look. “Captain Picard,” Dukat said, smiling even bigger.
“Gul Dukat,” Picard said, nodding at the Cardassian. “I would like to officially express both my thanks and that of the Federation, for your help in this incident.”
Dukat bowed forward slightly, acknowledging what Picard said and still smiling. “Captain,” he said. “It was my pleasure. I can assure you of that.”
“I have no doubt,” Picard said.
Dukat laughed. “Maybe next time my warnings will be taken seriously.”
“Dukat,” Picard said, ignoring the last remark. “I would be very much interested in discovering how you were able to follow the cloaked ship.”
The Cardassian Gul laughed. “Secrets, Picard. A secret that must remain with me for the moment.”
Picard smiled at him. “As you wish. Thank you again. Picard out.”
Before the screen cut off, Dukat again nodded his acknowledgment. And then laughed.
Chapter Nineteen
Riker had only a moment to apologize to Dax for his hasty exit, before the morning’s session started. During the meeting Admiral Jellico seemed to be even more subdued and angry. Nothing was accomplished, as Riker had figured would happen.
But as to Gowron’s story being made into a holodeck program, Geordi had said there would be few problems and Riker had relayed the news to Captain Picard. He had only nodded, as if he had expected as much.
Earlier Captain Picard had met with Commander Sisko about the murder and bombing. He said nothing about that discussion, either.
Right before the lunch break Captain Picard had asked Gowron if he would mind finishing his story over their food. Gowron had readily agreed.
Riker made sure he was walking from the meeting to Quark’s bar with Dax. “Did you end up having any dinner?” she asked him as they followed Gowron and Picard from the room.
“Not really,” he said. “Only a snack before bed.”
She laughed. “Me too.”
They walked in silence for a moment. Riker had hoped she would say something about dinner this evening. Captain Picard planned on having the Enterprise stay at Deep Space Nine until tomorrow. They had one more night. But so far she had said nothing. And after three attempts, he was almost afraid to ask. They had been having such bad luck.
Finally, as they neared Quark’s, he cleared his throat. “Would you—”
“Yes,” she said, quickly. Then she laughed. “Fourth time might be the charm.”
“It just might be,” he said.
And they both laughed.
It took only a few minutes for everyone to get settled again around the large table in the back of Quark’s. Two Klingon guards stood facing the rest of the bar, hands behind their backs. Lieutenant Barclay and Worf joined them, with a special welcome from Gowron. Riker had a sneaking suspicion that Gowron actually liked Reg Barclay.
Quark and Rom took only a few more minutes to get the drinks and food on the table. After a moment it almost felt as if yesterday’s events had not happened.
Gowron looked around. “You have been a good audience. A storyteller can ask for nothing more.”
“Your story has kept us riveted,” Captain Picard said. “As any good story does to an audience.”
“Hear! Hear!” Riker said. And the rest of the table agreed. Even Admiral Jellico.
“Then,” Gowron said, “the end of the story is at hand. I shall get to it.”
“Night had just gripped Pok’s home when we beamed down. His mother K’Tar greeted her warrior son as any mother would greet a son back from war. She hugged him. Her face shone.
“Then she nodded a thank-you to me. But no thanks were needed. I was grateful that Pok had come with me. For without his quick thinking, I would have been dead at the hands of my enemy.
“Qua’lon entered the greeting. Over drinks and food around their large dining room table I told our story up to that point. After I was finished I could see the joy shining from K’Tar’s face.
“She touched the top of her son’s hand. ‘Your father would be proud of what you have done, Pok.’
“‘Agreed,’ Qua’lon said. ‘The circle of vengeance is closed. The House of SepIch can move on.’
“‘The circle is not closed,’ I said. ‘We must still find the murderer of Torghn.’
“Qua’lon stared at me, clearly not understanding. Or so I read his expression to mean.
“‘Qua’lon killed Vok,’ K’Tar said, worry filling her eyes. ‘You have killed the assassins. Your traitorous guard is also dead. Who else do you expect to find?
“‘We still do not know who is behind this plot,’ I said. ‘The assassin said a Klingon—’
“‘From an ancient house,’ K’Tar said, finishing my sentence. ‘It has to be Vok. He is of the House of Ingka. Other than the House of SepIch, no house on Taganika is as old. Who else would it be?’
“‘So it would seem,’ I said. ‘I cannot explain. The circle does not feel complete to me.’
“‘Gowron,’ Qua’lon said, doing his best to comfort me. ‘If you had been able to slay him with your own hands, as I did, you might feel different.’
“‘Yes,’ K’Tar said. ‘It is finished.’
“‘It is not finished, K’Tar!’ a woman’s voice said from near the front door. My guards were blocking her entrance. I recognized her as T’Var, wife of Vok.
“She stopped her struggles with my guards and looked at me. ‘I would speak with Gowron.’
“Qua’lon jumped to his feet, clearly outraged. ‘The wife of the veQ who killed my brother may not enter the House of SepIch.’
“She glared at Qua’lon, then spit on the floor. ‘You petaQ! Your men have ransacked my home. Taken my belongings, my treasures, beaten my son, dRacLa.’
“‘Fitting payment,’ K’Tar said, ‘for what your house has done to mine.’
“‘My husband was innocent,’ T’Var said. She again looked directly at me. ‘Let me speak.’
“‘As the head of the House of SepIch,’ Qua’lon said, ‘I refuse to allow you to speak.’
“‘Qua’lon,’ I said, my voice harsh.
“He turned to face me.
“‘You are not the head of the House of SepIch. Pok is.’
“I turned to Pok, who had sat quietly through all this discussion, a trait of his that I admired. ‘Pok?’
“‘Let her speak,’ Pok said.
“I motioned for my guard to let her enter and she came inside. I could tell from her look that she was not doing well. But I gave her none of my heart.
“Qua’lon sat down hard in his chair and roughly pushed his food plate away from himself, spilling his drink in his show of dislike for Pok’s decision.
“‘Speak, T’Var. You say Vok was innocent. Where is the proof you bring?’
“‘Vok had no reason to kill
Torghn,’ T’Var said.
“‘The probe was meant for me,’ I said. ‘Vok had many reasons to want me dead.’
“‘True, Gowron,’ T’Var said. ‘My husband wanted you dead. I will not lie about that.’
“I nodded to her. ‘Go on.”
“‘My husband was no fool,’ she said. ‘Everyone knows what an honorable man Torghn was. He would never allow a guest, the head of the High Council of all guests, to be killed in his house. Think of the dishonor. He would die first. As he did.”
“‘If a man wanted my husband dead,’ K’Tar said, almost as if she were thinking out loud, ‘he could aim at you, Gowron, and know my husband would take the death himself.’
“‘And we would look for the man who would murder me.’ As if a light had been turned on in a dark room, the problem made sense to me.
“I turned to Pok. ‘Who knew your father well enough to know this, Pok? And who would gain the most from Torghn’s death?’
“He and I both glanced around the room. ‘The House of SepIch is an ancient house, too. Is there a murderer among us. Pok?’”
Gowron stared at Barclay, who once again seemed to be caught by surprise at Gowron’s attention. He glanced at Riker, then at the captain. Both showed no sign of expression, so he turned back to Gowron.
“I-I-I don’t unders-s-stand?”
“Have you been listening?” Gowron asked. “Or just eating?”
“L-L-Listening, sir,” Barclay said, glancing down at his mostly full plate of salad.
“Well then,” Gowron said, pushing his empty dish away and leaning forward. “Who would Pok accuse? Anyone? Who wanted Torghn of the House of SepIch dead?”
“Y-y-you certainly did not,” Barclay said.
Gowron laughed. “You speak the truth. I would have nothing to gain from Torghn’s death. He was my ally in that area of the Empire.” Gowron pulled out his knife and twisted it in his hands.
Then he stuck it into the table in front of Barclay, causing the lieutenant suddenly to scoot back away from the table.
“And if I did want him dead, I would have killed him in open view. That is my way.”
Barclay nodded, never taking his gaze off the knife stuck in front of him.
After a moment Riker felt bad for Barclay’s tension. He leaned to the side and whispered to him, “Who else in that room might have done it?”
Gowron smiled at Barclay as he looked up into his eyes. “H-H-His wife would also have n-n-no reason to kill her husband.”
Gowron nodded. “Again correct. And if Pok had accused his own mother she would have drawn her knife, like I just did, and given it to her son. She would have told him to fulfill his blood oath. Then she would have offered her chest. But I never would have let him kill her.”
“W-why?” Barclay asked.
“Honor,” Gowron said. “Dishonor would have fallen on Pok’s house for ten generations. The House of SepIch would have disappeared from memory. That would not be the way.”
Barclay nodded. “V-V-Vok’s wife T’Var was also in the room.”
Gowron nodded. “She was. But she would have no more reason to kill Torghn than her husband. And she never would have done so.”
“Then,” Barclay said. “Qua’lon, Torghn’s brother, is all that is left. Did he do it?”
Gowron held up his hand. “You jump ahead of the story, my friend.” But that is the same conclusion that Pok came to that evening.
Gowron finished his ale, then held up his glass. “Blood wine, Ferengi!” He shouted across the bar. “I am about to finish a story. This water-filled ale will not do.”
Riker glanced down at his plate. He had been so focused on listening to Gowron’s story, he had forgotten to finish his salad. He took another bite and then pushed it aside. He wanted his attention on Gowron’s story.
Even Admiral Jellico seemed to be taking the break in the story as a chance to finish lunch. If Captain Picard took his suggestion and proposed this story as a Holodeck training program, it would be wonderful. And very useful. Riker decided right at that moment that he would even offer to help on the production of such a program if it happened.
Quark served the glass of blood wine to Gowron. He took a long drink, then sighed. “Storytelling is best done with blood wine. It is my rule. And a good one.”
Around the table all laughed.
Gowron turned to Barclay. “I told you Pok looked at Qua’lon, then pointed to him in response to my question.”
Barclay nodded.
“Good,” Gowron said. “Now I will tell you what happened next.”
“‘You accuse me!’ Qua’lon shouted at Pok, standing and tipping his chair over in his anger. ‘Of killing my own brother! Why? I gain nothing.’
“I answered for Pok. ‘Nothing.’ I said. ‘Unless Pok were also dead. Then you would become the head of the House of SepIch.’
“‘I deny it!’ Qua’lon shouted. I could tell that at that moment he wanted to come over the table and kill me. And his nephew. His honor had been questioned.
“‘A charge has been made,’ I said. ‘You must offer proof of your innocence.’
“Qua’lon glanced at those of us staring at him. Then he said, ‘I will offer proof. I challenge my accuser to a vItHay’. A test of innocence.’
“‘Or guilt,’ I added.
“‘Oh, no,’ K’Tar said.
“I turned to Pok. ‘You have made this accusation of your uncle. You must accept his challenge.’
“Pok nodded.
“I slapped him on the shoulder.
“Qua’lon stood and started to leave. ‘My men will see that the chamber is prepared.’
“I stood quickly and blocked his way. ‘No!’ I said in his face. ‘My men will see to it.’
“I turned to my guards. ‘Do so.’
“Qua’lon stared at me but made no move to challenge me. At that moment he was thinking. For I would have gladly killed him where he stood.
“Barclay,” Gowron said. “Do you know what a vItHay’ is? And how it is performed?”
Barclay shook his head no.
Gowron turned to Riker. “Do you?”
“I do not, sir,” Riker said.
Gowron glanced at first Worf, then at Commander Sisko who shook his head no. Then he turned to Captain Picard. “I know you do.”
Captain Picard nodded, but said nothing as Gowron turned back to Barclay.
“vItHay’, a ritual challenge, is issued by an accused against the man doing the accusing. It proves who is guilty. Or who is not. It is a fight to the death.”
“B-b-but how could a fight prove innocence or guilt?” Barclay asked.
Captain Picard jumped in before Gowron could answer. “Lieutenant, Klingons believe that in mortal combat the honorable fighter, and the fighter on the side of the truth in a situation, is always victorious.”
“Correct, Captain,” Gowron said, beaming at Picard. “The truth will always have more strength than a lie. More inner strength. We live by such thoughts every moment. Every day.”
Worf said, “He is right.”
Riker glanced at Admiral Jellico, who seemed to be thinking very much about Gowron’s last statement. Riker just hoped that if Gowron finally got through to the admiral, it would not be too late to make a difference.
Barclay nodded that he understood, so Gowron continued.
“The ritual chamber has a fire in the center. The combatants are dressed in ritual fighting robes. Those of us who watch form a circle. Pok and Qua’lon would fight within the circle of warriors.”
Gowron took a drink, then looked again at Barclay and smiled. “I will ask you no more questions. But I must first explain the weapons of this ritual. Pok had the first choice of weapons, since his charge had been made, then denied. He chose a bat’tLeH. He might have picked up a knife, but Qua’lon would have beaten him easily with a bat’tLeH. Or he also might have chosen to fight with only his hands. A stupid choice.”
Gowron took another long dr
ink of his blood wine. “Qua’lon thought this fight to be an easy one. He did not know how much Torghn had trained his son in fighting. He did not also know how much Pok had grown inside in just the few days with seasoned warriors. The fight was very even.”
Suddenly Kira’s voice broke into the story. “Red alert! Commander Sisko to Ops.”
Around them the lights in the bar turned to a blinking red. Everywhere Starfleet officers scrambled for the door. All at the table with Gowron remained seated for the moment.
Sisko tapped his badge as he stood. “What is happening?.”
Kira’s voice came back strong enough for all to hear.
“Sir,” she said. “We have just had six Klingon Birds of Prey decloak. They have shields up and are in attack formation.”
Almost as a unit the group stood and headed quickly for the door across an already mostly empty bar.
Behind them Riker heard Quark say, “There goes another lunch profit.”
Chapter Twenty
LURSA GLANCED OVER at her sister at the weapons console. B’Etor nodded back. Good. They were in position. Now they must wait. This would be the hardest part.
She sat back and focused on the screen in front of her. The Enterprise had moved slightly away from the station into a more defensible position. Very smart.
Gowron’s flagship and the Botka also moved away and had powered up its weapons.
The station had gone to full alert status and had shields up. That was the important fact. With the shields up, they could not beam Gowron off the station. If they tried she would have him again.
A simple plan. Bold.
And on Federation territory.
She laughed to herself. If the Federation lost the head of the High Council, it would bring anger against the Federation. That anger was exactly what the House of Duras needed. A fight. A true reason to bring the Klingon Empire back to its glory.
“All ships are in position,” B’Etor said. “All weapons are fully charged. Transporters stand ready.”
“Good,” Lursa said. “Now make sure no one moves unless I give the order.”
“Done,” B’Etor said a moment later. She nodded to another to take her place and moved up beside her sister. “How long will they wait?”
Star Trek: Klingon! Page 12