“What do you mean we can’t get at it?”
Qaolin was furious. They had victory within their grasp—they had Ch’gran within their grasp! And now Narrk was telling him that they could not actually close their fists around the prize.
The captain rose from his desk and stood over Narrk, wanting once again to remind the first officer of his lesser height.
“The site is surrounded by force fields of various kinds,” Narrk said quietly. “We cannot penetrate them with scanners, transporters, weapons—nothing is working. We know only that it is the Ch’gran wreckage by looking at it.” He held out a padd, which included the visual record that the landing party had taken of their attempt to inspect the relic. The trefoil symbol of the Empire on the hull fragments was in a style that had not been favored since before the Empire’s second, more successful, foray into space. It had to be Ch’gran.
And yet, even as Qaolin was fulfilling his dream, the dream of every warrior who served the Empire, he felt it slipping through his fingers. Damn those Cardassian animals for soiling our sacred past!
“We’ve done everything we can,” Narrk said almost petulantly. “The force field cannot be penetrated by any means at our disposal.”
“Try harder.” Qaolin handed the padd back to Narrk. “Return to the surface. I am holding you personally responsible for allowing us access to the Ch’gran remains, Commander. The next time I see you will be either your informing me that you have succeeded or my informing you of your imminent death.”
Narrk smoldered, but said nothing. He simply grabbed the padd from Qaolin’s hands and departed.
For two days, Narrk supervised the work of engineers from all three Birds-of-Prey, a number that increased once repairs to the vessels damaged by the Sontok were complete. However, nothing could get through. The only solution that presented itself was to destroy the inhibitors and force field generators, but that could not be accomplished without damaging the Ch’gran remains, and that Qaolin would not authorize. Were it not for those remains, Qaolin would be more than happy to leave this rock to the Cardassians. This world had no mineral resources that the Empire could not obtain from worlds actually within their borders. This area of space was wholly undesirable, so much so that Qaolin found himself wondering how Ch’gran’s fleet wound up here.
By the end of the second day, Qaolin assumed that the fleet had gathered in the Betreka Nebula. According to the orders he had received from Command shortly after the Sontok’s departure, they would assemble there and wait to see what actions the Cardassians would take. The Wo’bortas would remain on station with its two brother ships for the time being. If the Cardassians returned with superior forces, Qaolin’s orders were to lead them to the nebula, and then the battle would be joined.
Then we shall truly learn how strong the Cardassian military is, Qaolin thought.
Still, he was concerned. The fleet being sent consisted of only six Birok-class cruisers—not exactly the cream of the fleet. Again, this system’s location proved problematic. Command was not willing to commit a massive deployment to such a remote region.
As he was about to go off-shift and get some dinner—the quartermaster had taken a crate of gagh out of stasis—Qaolin’s doorchime sounded. “Enter.”
Narrk entered wearing a hideous smile on his face. “Success! We have penetrated the force field!”
All thoughts of fresh gagh wriggling into his mouth fled, pleasant as they were. At last! Qaolin felt his heart singing with joy and glory. “How?”
“Yovang was able to provide—”
Qaolin’s heart stopped singing. “Yovang? I gave the entire crew strict orders on the subject of Yovang, Commander. Did you think they did not apply to you?”
Narrk scowled. “He had a method of overloading the force field. You wanted us to get the field down by any means necessary. In order to comply, I felt that it was worth listening to what Yovang had to say on the subject. And it worked.”
“Yet you did not report to me that you were approaching Yovang. You did not request my permission.”
“He approached me with—”
Refusing to let Narrk attempt to talk his way out of his insubordination, Qaolin instead slapped him with the back of his hand, then unsheathed his d’k tahg from his belt. “You have flaunted my authority for the final time, Narrk, son of Mariq.”
Then Narrk threw his head back and laughed. “You cannot challenge me, you ignorant petaQ.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.” Narrk’s sneer grew more pronounced. “I had every right to approach Yovang without your approval—after all, he is a fellow member of Imperial Intelligence.”
The deck seemed to tilt under Qaolin’s feet. Another I.I. agent aboard? And it is him? The captain refused to believe it.
“You lie. And there is only one fate for liars.”
With that, he thrust his d’k tahg into Narrk’s chest. The look of surprise that would be forever etched on Narrk’s face as his soul departed his body—for Gre’thor, if this were a just universe—gave Qaolin some small satisfaction.
After Narrk fell to the deck, Qaolin did not bother to perform the death ritual. That was for worthy warriors who fell in battle, not lying yIntagh.
Even as Qaolin summoned the quartermaster and his second officer to his office—the former to dispose of Narrk’s body, the latter to congratulate on his promotion—a voice in the back of his head asked, What if he wasn’t lying?
When he was finished speaking to the quartermaster and his new first officer, Qaolin went to the cabin that had been assigned to Yovang on deck four. All the officers’ quarters were on that deck, including Qaolin’s own, as well as the one guest cabin. The captain wasn’t sure if he would get the truth out of the I.I. agent if he asked, but he certainly wouldn’t get it if he didn’t.
The soldier assigned to guard the agent’s cabin nodded respectfully at the captain as the door rumbled open. Yovang lay on his bunk, wide awake, staring at the ceiling. At Qaolin’s entrance, the agent sat upright. Yovang did not, the captain noted, use his hands in any way to aid in making himself upright—he simply rose to the proper position. “Captain,” he said in his standard monotone.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Qaolin asked, “Was Narrk an I.I. agent?”
“You speak of your first officer in the past tense.”
“Answer my question, Yovang.”
Yovang stood up. “Why do you ask the question?”
Qaolin was not about to play Yovang’s game. “That is not your concern.”
“Oh, but it is. You see, I must deduce from your phrasing that Narrk is dead, and before he died he gave you reason to think he might be an I.I. agent.”
It seems I must play the game whether I want to or not. “The former first officer of this ship has been replaced. Quartermaster has just disposed of his body. He attempted to deny my challenge on the grounds that he was I.I. and therefore exempt. He also used that lie—if lie it truly was—to justify his insubordination, which was in going to you for a solution to penetrating the force field around the Ch’gran wreckage.”
“In that case, Captain, Commander Narrk deserved his death.”
Qaolin snarled and slammed his fist into the bulkhead of the small cabin. “I’m fully aware of the fact that Narrk deserved to die! If I were not, he would still draw breath! That is not my concern now, Yovang—my concern is, was he telling the truth?”
“What does it matter?” Yovang asked with that small smile he’d used in the captain’s office two days ago. “If he was lying, he dishonored himself and died the death he deserved. If he was not, then he was using his position—and, I might add, violating his infiltration—in a craven act of self-preservation. Whatever one may think of I.I. and our methods, we are not cowards, nor are we totally without honor. No agent worthy of the name would ever stoop to what you claim Narrk has done.”
The captain closed his eyes for a moment, restraining his temper. It would do no good to lose himself to anger with this one. The fact is, I will get no answers from him, and any answers he might provide are not ones I can trust. Though, thinking about it, he doubted that Yovang had ever actually lied; he simply was parsimonious with any useful information.
When this was an I.I. mission of reconnaisance, Qaolin accepted that Yovang’s authority on this ship was highest, and he would obey the agent’s orders. Now, however, it was a military engagement, and purely the purview of the Defense Force. That meant that Qaolin’s authority was the highest.
So the captain killed Yovang with his d’k tahg.
The look of surprise on the I.I. agent’s face as Qaolin thrust the knife point into his heart was even more of a treat than the one on Narrk’s, mainly because Qaolin doubted that Yovang had ever been surprised before.
However, Yovang did not go down without a fight. Even as the life’s blood drained from his chest, the I.I. agent wrapped his fingers around Qaolin’s neck in an attempt to take the captain to the afterlife with him. Qaolin found breaths suddenly difficult to come by. His vision clouded as Yovang’s fingers clenched his throat.
Then the agent’s iron grip loosened. Qaolin was able to breathe freely again even as Yovang fell to the deck.
Down the line, Qaolin had no doubt that he would be made to pay for this action. But that was for later. Right now, Yovang’s presence on his ship was a liability he could not afford. Whether or not Yovang approached Narrk with the solution to the Cardassian security, whether or not Narrk was truly an I.I. agent, didn’t matter. With them both dead, the Wo’bortas was under Captain Qaolin’s control. If there were consequences, he would face them, but he would not be put in a position where he had to fight the Cardassians with one eye on his back to make sure that someone wasn’t about to stab him in it.
Coughing in an attempt to clear his throat of its recent constriction, Qaolin cleaned the blade of his d’k tahg carefully, making sure there was no overt sign of Yovang’s blood remaining on it.
When he departed the agent’s quarters, he said to the guard, “See to it that Yovang is not disturbed by anyone without face-to-face confirmation from me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bridge to Qaolin.”
The captain looked up. “Qaolin.”
“Sir, long-range scan is picking up a fleet of Cardassian vessels on direct approach for the Raknal system.”
Qaolin smiled. And so the battle begins anew. “How many ships?”
“Nine, sir.”
At that, Qaolin reared his head back and laughed. It was perfect: they had sent as many ships as the Klingons had. Truly we shall test our enemy’s mettle.