“I agree,” Klag said, which earned him a look from Tereth. Turning to her, Klag continued: “Picard and Riker know DeSoto—I know them. Their word is enough for me.”
Tereth smoldered, but said nothing.
A brief awkward silence was broken by the android. “There is a much more likely scenario, which relates to the Malkus Artifacts themselves. There is a fourth artifact still undiscovered: the one that can be used to control people’s minds. The range of the device is unknown, but it is not beyond the realm of possibility that exposure to the other artifacts made both Captain DeSoto and Colonel Kira—not to mention Admiral McCoy and Ambassador Spock—susceptible to it.”
Toq spoke up. “In the records Command forwarded to us, there was mention of a Zalkatian archaeological dig begun a year ago on Beta Lankal. One of the records there indicated that, when combined, the Malkus Artifacts become much more powerful. If someone has uncovered the fourth artifact, they may be using these thralls to bring them together.”
Data nodded. “That would fit the pattern, Lieutenant. May we see those records?”
Rather than answer, Toq turned to look at Klag—it was his decision, after all. Klag nodded. “We will, of course, share all data.”
“Of course,” Picard said. “In addition to Starfleet Command’s scans on Earth and near Starbase 24, we’re awaiting a call from Deep Space 9 regarding their investigation into Colonel Kira’s disappearance. All that information will be sent over as soon as this meeting is finished.”
“Sir, if I may,” Data said. “There was a discrepant sensor reading in the data from Starfleet Command.”
Picard frowned. “Discrepant in what way?”
“I cannot say without further investigation.”
Tereth turned to Toq. “You shall also investigate this discrepancy, Lieutenant.”
Smiling, Klag said, “What is that human saying? ‘Two heads are superior to one’?”
Riker returned the smile. “Something like that.” Then he grew more serious. “I suggest we split up and do our own scans where the St. Lawrence and the shuttle carrying Admiral McCoy were last seen.”
“We should also officially declare the four vessels missing,” Tereth said, “if they haven’t been already. Even to civilian ships. Someone may come across them.”
Klag said, “I will also alert all Defense Force ships to search for these Malkus Artifacts. I understand they give off a particular emission?”
“Yes,” Data said. “Starfleet ships are under general orders to confiscate a Malkus Artifact should they detect that emission.”
Riker rubbed his chin. “I think we might be better off making that a more active scan. General Order 16 says that if anyone happens to find it, they should confiscate it. Until we find out what happened yesterday, all Starfleet and Defense Force ships should be on the lookout for those emissions.”
Picard put his hand on Riker’s arm, a familiar gesture that Toq thought to be horribly inappropriate. “Good idea, Number One. Captain?” he added with a look to Klag.
“Agreed.”
Toq was about to speak with a thought of his own, but before he could, a female voice sounded from the intercom. “Vale to Picard.”
Picard tapped the communications device on the emblem attached to his chest. “Go ahead.”
“Incoming call from Commander Vaughn on Deep Space 9, sir.”
Turning his chair to face the viewer behind him, Picard said, “Put him through, Lieutenant.”
The viewer flickered, changing from a simple display to that of a human face. He looked just like all the others to Toq, though this one had a beard.
“Jean-Luc, we simply have to stop meeting like this,” the human said with a smile.
Toq shook his head. What is it about humans? Toq wouldn’t have minded their obsession with humor at odd times, if the attempts were actually funny.
“Such is the nature of our business, Elias, sad to say,” Picard said. “I believe you know Captain Klag?”
“Of course,” the human said with a simple nod to the captain, who returned the gesture.
“What news do you have for us?”
“Nothing good, I’m afraid. There’s too much traffic between Bajor and the station to filter out the warp signature of the Rio Grande from all the other ships that went back and forth yesterday. We’re questioning some of the ship captains and going over the sensor data. That’s being forwarded to you. Oh, and we found an odd sensor reading that we haven’t been able to nail down.”
Picard nodded. “Starfleet Command found something similar on Earth.”
“In the meantime, I’m going to take the Defiant out to search the area, try to find the runabout’s warp signature. We’ll keep you posted.”
“Excellent. Picard out.”
At almost the precise moment that the screen went blank, the Vale woman’s voice came over the intercom again. “Bridge to Picard. Sir, we’ve got another transmission, this time from Commander Buonfiglio on the Hood.”
“Put it through,” Picard said.
Yet another indistinguishable human face appeared on the viewer.
“Captain Picard, I’m contacting you to let you know that the Hood is at your disposal.”
Frowning, Picard said, “I was told that the Hood was assigned to Sector 817.”
“We were, but I managed to talk Admiral Koike into cutting that assignment short. He then told us to contact you—said you were handling the investigation.” The human’s eyes seemed to blaze with an almost Klingon-like fury that Toq admired. “That’s our captain who’s gone missing, sir. We’re not about to sit around mapping quasars. We want to help.”
Toq saw this as the perfect opening for what he had been about to say when Commander Vaughn called. “Sir, there is, perhaps, something the Hood might be able to accomplish.”
All eyes at the table turned to Toq—even that of the human on the viewer. Toq turned to Klag, who nodded his approval for Klag to continue.
“It is possible that the location of the fourth artifact can be determined using the locations of the three previous artifacts as a base.”
The android pursed his lips. “All indications are that the artifacts were hidden at random points on the out-skirts of what was then Zalkatian territory, Lieutenant.”
“There still could have been a pattern—even an unconscious one,” Toq said stubbornly.
“It is worth looking into,” Tereth said, and Toq was grateful for the implied approval.
Picard nodded. “The location of the fourth artifact is a likely place for the missing people to have gone. Very well. Commander Buonfiglio, your assignment is to try to locate the fourth artifact.”
Data added, “You will need to compensate for stellar drift. The calculations will be imprecise, as we do not know the exact date when the artifacts were hidden.”
Buonfiglio smiled. “We’ll figure it out, Commander. And thank you, Captain. We lost a lot of good people during the war—including my predecessor as first officer. We’re damn well not going to let them take our captain from us, too. Hood out.”
Again, the screen went blank. Tereth gave Toq an approving look, which Toq basked in.
Passing an intense gaze around the table, Picard asked, “If there is nothing else?” No replies were forthcoming. “Very well, then, let us make it so.”
It was even harder to get out of the irritatingly soft and decadent Starfleet chair than it was any of the chairs on the Gorkon. But somehow Klag managed it. And he didn’t even stumble.
To Tereth, he said, “Wait for me. I will be along shortly.”
Tereth’s eyes widened, but she said nothing and simply left with Toq.
As the three humans moved toward the other door, Klag said, “Riker. I would speak with you.”
Riker looked to Picard, who gave a brief nod. Picard and Data then exited, leaving Klag and Riker in the room together.
Smiling, Riker said, “Seems every time I see you, Klag, you’ve got a different number
of arms.”
Klag returned the smile. “It is good to see you again, Riker—even if you insist on remaining beardless.”
“Same here, Klag.” Riker rubbed his smooth chin. “As for the beard—for the time being, at least, it’s still a thing of the past.”
Throwing his head back, Klag laughed. “I will take that as an encouraging sign.”
“So where’d the arm come from?”
“I do promise, my friend, that when this is all over, I will tell you the full story over a case of bloodwine, but for now—Do you remember what I told you all those years ago on the Pagh about my father?”
Nodding, Riker said, “You said he was on Qo’noS. ‘Waiting for death.’”
“His wait is now over.” He held up his right arm. “This is all that remains.”
Riker started. “You mean—that’s—” He shook his head. “I have to admit, Klag, I’m confused. That’s not biosynthetic?”
Klag didn’t even try to hide his distaste at the very thought. “Of course not. I would never attach a machine to my shoulder and call it my arm. No, I have decided to restore my father’s honor in a way that he refused to: by living on in his son.”
“An interesting solution,” Riker said slowly. “How long have you had it?”
“Dr. B’Oraq performed the procedure approximately three weeks after the last time we saw each other.” Klag placed his right hand on Riker’s left shoulder. “As I said, it is a long story—and if we survive this mission, I shall tell it.” Then he smiled. “And if we do not, we will at last have the chance to die together.”
Riker’s face split into one of those foolish human grins of his. “I look forward to either one, Captain.”
“As do I, my friend—as do I.” He let out a quick breath. “And now I must go. We have people to find—or perhaps their deaths to avenge. Either way, we go to glory. Qapla’, Riker.”
Riker nodded. “Qapla’, Klag.”
Klag left the observation lounge then, content. Riker was one of the few people who knew the whole story about M’Raq, and he deserved to know the details regarding his new right arm now.
He arrived at the transporter room to find Tereth and Toq waiting for him, along with the Enterprise’ s transporter operator and a security guard.
“Your business is concluded, Captain?” Tereth asked.
Klag simply nodded and stepped onto the platform. His first and second officer did likewise. To the operator, he said, “Energize.”
Chapter Twelve
THE LAST OF MALKUS’S SLAVES FINALLY ARRIVED.
Robert DeSoto had had the farthest to come, and the most to do before his arrival. His was by far the most important task: he had to bring the other Instruments.
Now he was here.
Now all the pieces would come together.
Now the campaign could truly begin.
Even Malkus’s great power was limited, after all. He was able to control the entire population of Narendra III, but not the occupants of the ships in orbit as well. So he had several hundred Narendrans place themselves into confinement—an enclosed sporting arena on the planet’s largest continent served the function; the thralls created a forcefield to keep everyone in—and then he loosed control of their minds.
Then he took command of the four Klingon Defense Force ships in orbit, as well as a human freighter that was bringing supplies of some kind.
Soon thereafter, Leonard McCoy and Spock of Vulcan arrived. They had had company in their conveyances—three drugged Klingons with McCoy and a Klingon and two humans, all victims of some kind of nerve damage, with Spock—and Malkus had them imprisoned in McCoy’s conveyance, after having all the ship’s power neutralized and a forcefield placed around it.
Kira Nerys arrived alone, and then, finally, DeSoto came with the other Instruments.
Malkus knew that the wind was blowing through this piece of a hill that had been excavated by the Klingons only because he could feel the wind blow through the hair of his four thralls, but he could not feel it himself. If his thralls were cold, Malkus did not permit them to show it. They simply stood obediently, awaiting instruction, hands at their sides. In front of DeSoto was a sack containing the other three Instruments.
Bring them to me.
DeSoto picked up the sack and walked over to where his Instrument sat on the cold ground of Narendra III.
Put the Instruments together. Then my power truly shall be an awesome thing to behold.
Kneeling down, DeSoto fit one Instrument next to Malkus’s. The two sides of the Instruments came together as if magnetized.
Malkus felt the power surge through him.
Then DeSoto fit another onto the side perpendicular to the one Malkus’s Instrument was attached to. Again, they came together, and again, Malkus felt the power sing within him. Aidulac and her team had done their job so well. Soon, his power would be all-encompassing. No one would be able to resist him—none could escape his mental domination; he could infect an entire world with the adrenal virus, not just a few hundred; and he could destroy suns with the beam of force.
The unthinkable happened when DeSoto moved to attach the final Instrument into the corner that would fill out the Great Rectangle. A much less pleasant surge went through Malkus—feedback on an incredible scale. If the other two attachments were like magnets coming together, the final Instrument repelled the other like magnets of the same pole.
Malkus had thought himself beyond feeling pain, but he was wrong.
That pain was transmitted to his thralls, as all across the planet and in orbit, thousands of beings screamed in agony.
The moment passed, then, and Malkus surveyed the ground before him. The four thralls had collapsed to the ground in great pain. One of them—McCoy—was frail and had difficulty getting back up, but the others rose to their feet with little difficulty.
Three-quarters of the Great Rectangle was assembled, at least. His powers had been boosted—his control was even greater. To test it, he infected all those imprisoned in the sports arena on the largest continent with the adrenal virus. They would die before long. In fact, knowing this species, they would probably react to the heightened adrenaline levels by massacring each other long before the virus did its work.
But something was wrong with the last Instrument. And he could not inspect it for himself.
Of his four thralls, only Spock had had any opportunity to study the Instruments, so Malkus instructed him to examine it. Malkus suspected that there was a flaw in it, since he had not been able to feel when that particular Instrument had been uncovered. According to DeSoto’s memories, an Andorian named Tharia ch’Ren had used it to sow chaos in a then-disputed region of space. Malkus wished he had been able to see the destruction that had been wrought in his name.
Spock hesitated. Examine the Instrument! Malkus mentally bellowed, and this time the thrall obeyed.
It was odd that the half-breed had been able to hesitate so. Malkus’s control should have been complete. Perhaps that feedback was worse than he thought….
“There is a flaw,” Spock said, and with the halfbreed’s eyes, Malkus saw that he was correct. There was a small opening in one of the corners of the Instrument, virtually undetectable unless one was actively seeking it out—he was glad he had chosen the half-breed Vulcan, as his eyesight was superior to that of the two humans or the Bajoran.
Kira had a scanning device in her possession, and Malkus instructed her to use it on the Instrument.
As he had surmised, there was a component missing.
Unfortunately, a scan of DeSoto’s memories showed that the human captain did not know precisely where the Instrument had been found. The best it could be narrowed down to was a particular area of space.
Worse, it was an area of space that was currently politically unstable: on the border between a once-great power that had recently lost a war and a still-great power that had won it.
He had to have the component.
Of the four thrall
s, Kira was by far the most skilled pilot, and she also knew the region of space well. He instructed her to take one of the conveyances—the one marked with the name St. Lawrence—and travel to that region of space to find the component.
A part of Malkus bridled under the delay, but it was a small part. Patience. That was, and always would be, his greatest asset. He had waited this long, after all. The time it would take Kira to find the last component and complete the Great Rectangle was infinitesimal by comparison.
Soon…
A confusing mass of light and sound assaulted B’Oraq as she regained consciousness. Half-formed noises and blurred images started to slowly coalesce into something she could justifiably interpret as real or familiar—up to and including a dull ache in the top of her skull.
I truly hate being sedated, she thought. The curse of being a physician was that she knew precisely what the drugs did to her and what the potential long-term effects were, so she was hyperaware of the precise damage to her bloodstream—and, thanks to the headache, her cranium—caused by the sedative that Admiral McCoy had given her.
McCoy. It was absurd on the face of it. Why would a century-and-a-half-old human in the middle of a shuttle journey from the base on Tynrok to Qo’noS subdue the doctor who had invited him in the first place?
“Are you all right, Doctor?”
Finally, B’Oraq focused on what it was her eyes told her, especially since she recognized the voice—which matched the face that stood over her prone form, looking vaguely concerned.
“Am—Ambassador Worf?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing here? How did you get on board?” She sat up, which only made her headache worse. She had been lying on the very QongDaq that McCoy had been whining about.
“I do not know,” Worf said. “I was in a runabout en route to Khitomer when Ambassador Spock subdued me with the Vulcan neck attack. I awoke on this shuttle.”
The Brave and the Bold Book Two Page 16