Although Kurn’s desire to remain as Rodek surprised Worf, his brother’s animosity was no surprise at all. “If I give you cause, Lieutenant, I will not stop you.”
Kurn—or, rather, Rodek blinked once then turned his back on Worf and walked away from him.
The final insult, Worf thought with a sigh. And yet, a deserved one.
Worf turned and headed toward the guardsman to reassure him that he would not feel the wrath of the House Hurgas ghIntaq. Then Worf returned to the embassy to make sure that Ba’el was settling in.
Tomorrow, the High Council would be in session. Worf planned to be in attendance.
Twenty-eight
Council Chambers, the Great Hall
First City, Qo’noS
Martok, son of Urthog, hated sitting in the chancellor’s chair.
It had now been a full turn since Worf challenged Gowron and defeated him on Deep Space 9. Rather than accept the honor of leading the empire himself—an honor Worf had long since earned, in Martok’s opinion—Worf designated Martok himself as chancellor.
Someday, Martok would consider forgiving Worf for that.
Morjod’s coup had done a great deal to convince Martok that he belonged in this chair. Kahless once said that not having something was the best way to find out you wanted it, and while want might have been too strong a verb, Martok had at least come to accept that he was the right person for the job at this point in the empire’s history.
But he still hated sitting in the chair. It always dug into his backside, and no amount of shifting in place made it better. The only upside was that the pain gave him even less patience with the inanities of council sessions, so he was able to take a hard line with those councillors and petitioners who wasted time.
The council had a full agenda for the day. As he walked from his office to the chambers, four members of the Yan-Isleth trailing behind him (none walked before the chancellor), Martok read over his padd to see that the crew of the I.K.S. Gorkon were involved in three of the proceedings. The council had summoned Klag and several members of his House to discuss what happened in the qaDrav yesterday, and Klag’s mother was also one of three women who were petitioning the High Council for special dispensation to be made House head—one of the other two was Klag’s chief engineer.
Then there was the first order of business: the meqba’ looking into Captain Stren’s crash into Novat. Klag’s doctor had requested to present evidence.
Martok rarely looked forward to open council sessions, as the petitioners tended to be long-winded and tiresome. The only thing that cheered him was being able to occasionally condemn them to death, but that didn’t happen nearly often enough to suit him.
When he arrived, he went straight for his seat in the raised chair at the back of the council chambers. A dark room with directed lighting casting long shadows, only the chancellor’s chair and the trefoil emblem of the empire over it were fully lit. A second light was also used to illuminate those who spoke before the council.
A rumble of noise hovered over the room upon Martok’s entrance, but it quieted to nothing as he approached the chair, the chamber steward announcing his entrance over the din.
The councillors took their place in a half circle radiating out from Martok’s chair. One spot was empty, that belonging to Kryan. The results of the meqba’ would determine whether or not he retained his seat on the council—and if he did not, a new councillor would be chosen before any other business was conducted.
In the front of the chambers, several Klingons stood, awaiting their turn to speak or simply observing the proceedings. Martok noticed Worf among the latter, and the chancellor was glad that he had come, as he had words to say to Worf regarding the previous day’s events at the qaDrav.
Also in the observation area were Klag and B’Oraq, standing together, the latter tugging on the braid that rested on her right shoulder. Of Kurak, he saw no sign, but there were many dark corners and large pillars in the chambers she could have been hiding in. Tarilla and Dorrek were not present, either, but that was because they were in custody and remained under guard in a nearby antechamber until they were summoned.
Sitting on the edge of the chair rather than let it chew his spine, Martok said, “Kryan, son of Panich, step forward!” He deliberately did not use Kryan’s title.
Kryan angrily stepped into the center of the chambers, followed by another Klingon, this one in Defense Force armor. The light shone on Kryan, making the scowl on his round, pudgy face clear for all to see.
Martok went on: “You stand before us to answer for the dishonorable actions of your brother, Stren, son of Panich. It is the council’s belief that Stren deliberately took his own life and that of several citizens of the city of Novat in a cowardly gesture. Who stands for you?”
The Defense Force soldier stepped forward. “I am Yakril, son of Wolkor. I will serve as the councillor’s cha’DIch.”
The steward stepped forward and handed Yakril the ceremonial d’k tahg that was given to all who served as cha’DIch. Kryan would be denied combat until the meqba’ ended, so Yakril would stand for him. Peering closely, Martok saw that Yakril held the rank of ensign and also wore the emblem of the House of Mortran on his biceps. Councillor Mortran was a friend of Kryan, and while he could not publicly support Kryan while he was under suspicion, he could at least provide a cha’DIch.
“We will begin the meqba’,” Martok said as soon as Yakril accepted the d’k tahg. “Kowag, son of Varkal, and physician for the Great Hall has prepared a report.”
Councillor Krozek moved forward out of the darkness. His large, heavily ridged nose cast a long shadow on the left side of his face. Holding up a padd, he said, “I have Doctor Kowag’s report.”
Martok frowned. “Where is Doctor Kowag?”
“He is on a targ hunt with several colleagues, Chancellor. He felt that, since his report was complete, his presence was not required.”
“That is a matter that I will discuss with Kowag upon his return,” Martok said quietly, with a growl rumbling in the back of his throat. “What does the report say?”
Looking at the padd, Krozek said, “Doctor Kowag says that the cause of Captain Stren’s death was a high-velocity impact-loading trauma—acceleration of the head following sudden deceleration of impact resulting in multiple comminuted cranial fractures as well as subluxation injury to the vertebrae of the neck when Captain Stren’s head impacted against the shuttle bulkhead.”
Martok doubted that Krozek understood what he was saying any more than Martok did. He thought he got the gist, however. “He died in the crash, then?”
“Yes, Chancellor.”
Now B’Oraq moved into the center of the chamber. “I challenge the findings of Doctor Kowag.”
Though Martok knew the answer to the question he was about to ask, it needed to be in the official record. “On what grounds do you challenge the official physician of the Great Hall?”
“On the grounds that Doctor Kowag is an incompetent fool.”
That sent a rumble through the chambers. Kowag had many friends on the council, and B’Oraq was taking a huge risk by insulting him publicly like this. But then, that one is used to huge risks.
“Were he present,” B’Oraq continued, “I would challenge him directly. Killing him would rid the empire of one of its greatest blights. I was on the scene when Captain Stren’s craft crashed into Novat, and several Klingons survived who might not have otherwise thanks to the presence of myself, as well as Doctor Valatra of the I.K.S. Plorgh and Doctor Kandless of the village of Ya’Koraq. We beamed many of the victims to the I.K.S. Gorkon, including Captain Stren. Before sending his body to Doctor Kowag, I performed an autopsy.”
Krozek bristled. “What right did you have to do that, woman?”
B’Oraq turned on the councillor. “As I told you a week ago, Councillor, Stren was a patient in my medical bay. That gives me the right, and you approved my doing so.”
“I did no such thing!”
/> “Yes, Councillor, you did.” She held up a data spike and placed it in a padd. “This recording is taken directly from the Gorkon’s communications records.”
First Martok heard B’Oraq’s voice: “Stren is a patient in my medical bay, Councillor. Standard procedure dictates that I do a full examination and write a report before I release him.”
Then Krozek’s voice. “You are welcome to do so, but do it quickly and send the body to Kowag. That is all.”
The councillor’s face compressed into a scowl, but he said nothing. Indeed, there was nothing to say. He had authorized B’Oraq’s examination and report, which justified the doctor presenting it to the High Council now.
Looking at each member of the council in turn except for Krozek, B’Oraq said, “Doctor Kowag’s report is true on the face of it. Captain Stren did indeed suffer a high-velocity impact-loading trauma. But I suspect that anyone in this room who took even a cursory glance at the captain’s corpse would be able to tell that from the rather large dent in the man’s skull.”
Martok was unable to suppress a chuckle at that. Neither were about a quarter of the people in the chamber, including both Kryan and Yakril.
“However, that was not the cause of death. The first indicator that it might not be was that the head wound did not bleed as profusely as most such injuries do. That implies that blood stopped flowing before the wound. So I examined under the wound—a methodology that seems to be beyond Doctor Kowag—and discovered multiple berry aneurysms that had burst. Those aneurysms indicated that Captain Stren suffered from T’Viad’s syndrome—something that a competent doctor would be able to diagnose in an instant. Thus the captain’s brain was an explosive waiting to detonate. Captain Stren died while flying the shuttle. The cause of death was herniation of the brain stem secondary to subarachnoid hemorrhage caused by the aneurysms. Extensive subarachnoid hemmorhaging consistent with rupture of the anterior communicating artery rendered him unconscious, with a subsequent increase in intracranial pressure causing the brain stem’s herniation.”
B’Oraq held up a padd and handed it toward Krozek. “This is my full report, witnessed by both Valatra and Kandless, and which includes the autopsy recorded by the Gorkon computer. Did Kowag provide such documentation or witnesses?”
Krozek’s face, if anything, grew more sour. “No.”
Now Martok spoke up. “Did Kowag actually examine Captain Stren, or did he simply view the footage on the information net?”
“I am sure, Chancellor, that Doctor Kowag’s examination was quite thorough.”
“Would that I could be as sure, Councillor,” Martok said. He stood up. Pronouncements, he found, came across better from that position. “In light of Doctor B’Oraq’s evidence, it is the ruling of this council that there be no action taken against Councillor Kryan or any of his House. Councillor, you will return to your place.” He put his arm to his chest. “Qapla’.”
Returning the salute, Kryan said, “Qapla’, Chancellor.” Then he took his place between Councillors Tovoj and Mortran.
Both B’Oraq and Yakril started toward the front, but Martok said, “Doctor B’Oraq, remain before us. Council has another pronouncement. It has become obvious that the Klingon Physicians Enclave has outlived its usefulness.” He had already discussed what would happen next with the rest of the council, and while they were not unanimous, enough supported the notion that, unless there was some surprise revelation from Kowag during the meqba’ (which there wasn’t), Martok’s next words came easily. Kryan’s restoration made it easier, for he had supported the notion wholeheartedly.
The chancellor saw B’Oraq’s eyes grow wide, and her hand moved to the pin that held on her braid.
Martok continued. “Council encouraged the KPE to hold a conference to demonstrate their usefulness to the empire’s medical community, and from all accounts they demonstrated only that they are obsolete. Therefore, the High Council hereby disbands the KPE. It will be replaced with the Klingon Medical Authority, which the council hereby grants the authority to act on behalf of the empire’s medical community. After this session concludes, Doctor,” he said, staring at B’Oraq with his one eye, “you will meet with me to discuss the KMA’s mandate.”
“I will be honored, Chancellor.” B’Oraq’s smile practically illuminated the chambers all by itself.
Ignoring the rumbling from several councillors—all the ones loyal to Kowag, Martok knew—he moved on to the next order of business, to wit, the petitions for special dispensation. Women from the Houses of Lokak, Palkar, and M’Raq had all applied to be made head of their respective Houses. Preferring to save M’Raq for last, given its attendant complications, Martok saw B’Yor from the House of Lokak first.
He listened to her petition with only half an ear, for he saw no reason even to go through with the charade. Recalling his late wife Sirella, he knew full well that many women of the empire were perfectly capable of leading a noble House. Martok had already begun investigating ways to eliminate the need for this ridiculous process and simply allow women to lead. He had not done so only because so many of the most powerful Houses were dead set against it, and Martok could not afford to alienate them. At least not yet.
After granting B’Yor the right to lead her own House, Kurak came into the center of the chamber.
“I am Kurak, daughter of Haleka of the House of Palkar. I am also a commander in the Defense Force, chief engineer of the I.K.S. Gorkon, and builder of the former flagship, the Negh’Var. I am also the only able-bodied adult left in our House. The House was in the care of our ghIntaq, Moloj, but he has died, and no one is empowered to replace him.”
Councillor Qolka spoke up. “There are no able-bodied males in your House?”
Kurak continued looking straight at Martok, not doing Qolka the honor of acknowledging him with her eyes. “The Dominion War claimed much of our family. My nephew, Gevnar, will not reach the Age of Ascension for another year.”
Qolka started to speak again, but Martok held up his hand. “Enough! The House of Palkar has served the empire with distinction since the days of Emperor Sompek. To deny Commander Kurak’s petition would be to destroy that House, and that I will not do. Dispensation is granted, Commander, and you are now head of the House of Palkar.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Chancellor. I hereby name Karreka, daughter of Lyyroq, to be my ghIntaq. She will be the spear that defends Palkar.”
A rumble spread through the chamber. While there was no proscription against women serving as ghIntaq, it rarely happened, and when it did, it was generally in smaller, less consequential Houses. To the best of Martok’s knowledge, no House of the stature of Palkar had ever appointed a woman to that position.
From the front, a woman wearing a white dress stepped forward, followed by a white-haired man in Defense Force armor. The woman said, “I accept the honor, Kurak of the House of Palkar. I will be your ghIntaq and serve your House until my dying day.” Then she turned to the white-haired man, backhanded him across the face, and said, “Our marriage is done!” Then she spit on him.
Recovering quickly from the blow and wiping the spittle from his pointed beard, the white-haired man, a lieutenant from a House that Martok did not recognize, turned to Kurak and said, “I am Klingon!” Martok also noted that he wore a necklace of Cardassian neckbones. That necklace rattled as he grabbed Kurak’s hand in his and enclosed his fist around hers. Even as blood seeped out of her palm, the lieutenant said, “My blood.”
Kurak smiled and said, “Our blood.”
A part of Martok was curious as to why she did not simply mate the lieutenant so he could become head of the House and save herself the trouble, but in truth, he did not care all that much and saw no reason to waste the council’s time with a lengthy explanation. “Go begin your new lives, my friends,” he said, “and let us continue our business.”
The lieutenant bowed low, the necklace swinging outward. “The chancellor honors our union with his witnessing of it.” With that,
he turned and left, along with Kurak and Karreka.
To the steward, Martok said, “Bring Tarilla and Dorrek into chambers.”
Saluting, the steward exited right behind the other three.
“Captain Klag, step forward.”
Klag had been speaking with B’Oraq, but now he came into the center of the chamber, the light shining on his proud face. Martok noted that Klag looked determined, which was well, as the next few minutes would likely be difficult for him.
Dorrek and Tarilla were brought in by two guardsmen. As members of noble Houses, they were not shackled, though Martok had been tempted.
Martok had put Councillor Grevaq in charge of the investigation into what, exactly, happened at the qaDrav yesterday. Normally, such matters between a captain and his second officer would be handled internally, and had Lieutenant Rodek challenged Captain Klag on the Gorkon, it would have been. But since it happened in the qaDrav, it became a matter for the council.
So when Dorrek and Tarilla took their place next to Klag—neither of them looking at him, Martok noticed—Grevaq then stepped forward, reading off a padd.
“At council’s direction from the reports made by Captain Klag and Ambassador Worf, the Imperial Guard investigated the home of Noggra, son of Doqi, as well as Noggra’s body. DNA traces were found in the home and on his person, which belonged to Captain Dorrek, son of M’Raq. Noggra’s home security recorded someone wearing a holomask attacking Noggra in his home and interrogating him about his son, Rodek. That interrogation revealed that Rodek was a fiction, and that Rodek was born Kurn, son of Mogh.”
A Burning House Page 27