STAR TREK: TOS - Errand of Vengeance, Book Two - Killing Blow Read online

  “What?” Karel asked, bringing his head closer to hear.

  “No ... I can walk,” Kell said.

  Karel put his brother down and thought it a wonder that Kell was standing. Yet Kell had taken a few shaky steps.

  The two brothers made their way out of the woods. Finally, the younger Klingon allowed Karel to put a hand on his good arm and help him along.

  As they reached the path leading home, Kell shook off even that small help. Karel watched in amazement as Kell straightened up and headed for home.

  Karel woke up slowly in his bunk on the D’k tahg. As he opened his eyes, he felt a warmth that he had not known since he had last been home. He had just seen his brother. ...

  Karel saw Kell’s face, the face as it appeared in the [11] dream. Even as he saw it, the face began to recede and Karel remembered that Kell was dead.

  He remembered.

  The grief came, then the anger, then the fury.

  The Earthers had taken his brother. The cowardly, deceitful Earthers. For a moment, his mind rebelled. It was not possible. Such sub-Klingons could not stop the warrior’s heart that Kell had possessed. No mere Earther could cool his brother’s blood.

  Yet somehow they had. He was sure of that.

  He was equally sure they would pay. Karel would make sure of it. Honor demanded it, and honor would be paid.

  Chapter One

  STARSHIP U.S.S. ENTERPRISE

  FEDERATION SPACE

  LESLIE PARRISH TRACED the scar on Kell’s shoulder.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “Just a scar,” he said.

  “Pretty nasty for just a scar,” she said.

  The Klingon leaned into her. She had no choice but to press back against him in the small bed.

  “Mmmm,” she said. “But we both have to be on duty in an hour. We’ll have to get up now if we want to eat.”

  Kell grunted his displeasure, but knew she was right.

  “How did you get it?” she asked.

  “I was very young ...” he said. “It was an accident.”

  “Farming accident?” she asked.

  “Hmmm ... yes, a farming accident,” Kell said. It was a small lie, yet it pained Kell to tell it. Honor demanded truthfulness ... and Leslie Parrish deserved it. They had [14] fought together and nearly died together. And they had become ... close in the time since. Initially, he had fooled himself that their closeness was merely a reaction to the battle and victory they had shared.

  Now he knew that was not true and would not utter the lie, even to himself. The truth in this case, however, did not provide clarity.

  In this case, the truth was very dangerous to Kell, to his mission, and, finally, to her.

  “I was eight,” he said, needing to tell her something of the truth.

  “Must have scared the hell out of your mother,” she said.

  “Nearly,” he said.

  Kell felt the scar himself. The Klingon surgeons who had transformed him into a human—at least on the outside—had offered to remove the scar.

  He had refused, even though it might increase his danger, since the real Jon Anderson he was replacing had no such scar.

  He needed something to remind him of who he was as he took the face of the sworn enemy of the Klingon Empire.

  Kell turned to Parrish and pulled her close.

  “Jon,” she said, making his name a question.

  “I think we should skip breakfast today,” he said.

  “Come in, Mr. Anderson,” Section Chief Sam Fuller said. The Klingon did not hesitate. Through training and practice, he had learned to respond immediately to his assumed human name.

  Kell entered the security office. His human [15] commanding officer, Fuller, was sitting behind the desk, smiling warmly at him.

  In Klingon Intelligence, he had found that a call to meet privately with a superior officer almost always meant an unpleasant encounter or a confrontation of some kind. He had found that this was not so for humans, at least the ones he had met in Starfleet.

  For the first few days on the Enterprise, he had steeled himself every time someone called his human name, convinced that he would be denounced as a Klingon agent in the next breath. He was sure that someone would see him for what he was, an Infiltrator. He waited for someone to discover that he was betleH ’etlh, or the Blade of the Bat’leth.

  It had not happened.

  The humans were remarkably trusting of one another. Most Klingons would see that as a weakness, a fatal one that could be exploited. Kell knew this was not true. The humans he had met and served with trusted each other because they found each other worthy of trust.

  In that case, the trust was not a weakness but a great strength, because when they fought, they fought as one.

  Kell trusted the human behind the desk. He had fought with Sam Fuller. In any sane universe, they should have died in battle together. Yet they had survived and had won the day.

  While Kell had seen many signs of Fuller’s alien nature, he had seen the man’s courage and his honor. That honor and courage were worthy of a true follower of Kahless.

  Kell was certain that no Klingon would believe such a thing possible for a human. Yet it was true and Kell would not deny it.

  [16] “Sit down, Ensign,” Fuller said, gesturing to the chair facing his desk.

  Taking a seat, Kell studied the human’s features. In his less than two weeks aboard the Enterprise, he had become adept at reading human expressions and body language.

  He could see that Chief Fuller had something serious to discuss with him.

  “Ensign, it’s now been almost two weeks since the incident in System 1324,” Fuller said. “How are you feeling?”

  “I am fine, Chief,” Kell replied. “How are you feeling? Your injuries are healing?”

  Fuller waved his hand dismissively. “Good as new.”

  Yet Kell could see that was not true. The chief’s movements were slower and more deliberate since the incident. His smashed ribs and punctured lung had obviously not healed completely.

  “I want to talk to you about your future,” Fuller continued.

  “My future?” Kell asked, wondering how Fuller would react if he knew just how short the Klingon expected that future to be.

  “I have spoken to the captain and he wanted me to have this discussion with all the survivors of the incident.” Fuller paused for just a moment, studying him carefully. “Starfleet is offering an honorable discharge to any of the survivors who would like it.”

  “A discharge?” the Klingon asked.

  “You all served well and succeeded in your mission. You also saw more death in one day than most people who serve in Starfleet see in a career.”

  The Klingon shook his head.

  “That is not necessary, sir,” Kell said.

  [17] “Don’t be so hasty, Ensign. I want you to think about this. You are a decorated officer in Starfleet who is being given a chance to return to civilian life with full honors. No one would think less of you if you wanted to do something else with your life. You have done your part and then some.”

  The Klingon shook his head again.

  “Son, you have to think about this, that’s an order. And it comes directly from Captain Kirk.”

  The sound of Kirk’s name made Kell pause, in the Empire, Kirk was known as a treacherous and deceitful coward, a great betrayer. It was not true, the Klingon now knew.

  Kirk was honorable and had courage. He had risked his own life to rescue the lowest-ranking officers on his ship—the security team trapped in the caves on the second planet of System 1324.

  He had also saved Kell’s life.

  But as an Infiltrator, it was the Klingon’s first duty to kill Captain Kirk.

  “I have thought about it, sir. I cannot leave the service,” Kell said.

  “Sorry, Ensign, you have to give it more thought than that. We will be putting in to the starbase in less than two days. We will be there for at least a few days to take o
n supplies and ... replacement crew. You have until we set out again from the starbase to give me your answer. You will use that time and you will give this issue serious thought. And that is an order.”

  The Klingon nodded, and for a moment he did think about it. Since he had arrived on the Enterprise, he had been certain that he would die on this mission. The [18] prospect of his death did not trouble him when he believed he was serving the Empire in the defeat of its enemies.

  But humans were not what he had expected. And now he owed Captain Kirk an honor debt. To kill the human meant Kell would forfeit his honor. Still, his duty to the Empire demanded it.

  Yet here was a way out. He could accept the discharge and leave the ship. Then just disappear into the Federation. Even if he did decide to let Kirk live, he could not avoid eventually being exposed as a Klingon on the Enterprise.

  If he were injured on a mission, a routine medical scan would reveal him instantly. And he had seen that security officers were very prone to injury in the course of their duties.

  Even if he somehow managed to avoid injury, he would not be able to avoid the next routine physical, which was just a few short months away.

  Now Fuller had offered him something he did not think was possible: a way out. He could escape with his honor intact.

  Yet even as the thought struck him, he knew he would not do it. He would not abandon his people, to wander the Federation while the inevitable conflict between the Klingon Empire and Federation drew near. He would serve the Empire as his brother served it on a Klingon battle cruiser, as their father had served it twenty-five years ago in battle against Starfleet.

  He would do his duty and face the consequences to his honor.

  “I will think about it, Chief,” Kell said as he stood up.

  [19] Fuller seemed satisfied with that and stood to shake Kell’s hand.

  “Thank you, Ensign,” he said.

  The Klingon nodded and turned to go, but a sudden thought stopped him.

  “Chief, did the captain make the same offer to you?” he asked.

  “Yes, he did,” Fuller said.

  “What was your answer?” Kell asked.

  The chief paused for a moment, then said, “I agreed to think about it.”

  The Klingon did not doubt that was true. Yet looking into Fuller’s eyes, he was certain that the section chief had also already made up his mind.

  After Sam Fuller entered the briefing room and took his seat, Captain Kirk nodded to the assembled officers in the briefing room. All of the department heads were there, as well as all of the security section chiefs—all of the surviving security section chiefs, Kirk reminded himself. Section Chief Ordover and twelve other officers had died on the second planet of System 1324.

  “I have just spoken to Admiral Justman and about the incident with the Orion vessels. The Orion government initially denied that any such incident occurred. When confronted by the overwhelming evidence that Security Chief Giotto collected on the planet and this ship’s own logs, Orion officials questioned the accuracy of the evidence and finally allowed that the incident in System 1324 may have happened, but if it did it was the action of private Orion citizens, with no affiliation to the Orion government.”

  [20] “Poppycock,” McCoy groused.

  “On the contrary, Doctor,” Spock countered. “Most Orion privateers operate independently, without the sanction of any Orion political organization. They are, essentially, businessmen.”

  “The question is, what was their business in System 1324? They attacked a small, unarmed settlement with nothing of real value. Then they took on our security force and this ship,” Kirk said. “Ideas, anyone?”

  There was a brief silence, which McCoy broke. “If no one else is going to say it, I will, Captain. They were clearly hired by the Klingons to engage a starship and Starfleet personnel on the ground to gather intelligence about our capabilities.”

  Kirk smiled. McCoy had vocalized what everyone in the room was thinking. The theory fit all the facts and was especially compelling in the light of the recent security warning from Starfleet command.

  “I agree with the doctor,” Spock said. “Unfortunately, we have no evidence of such a connection. And without the cooperation of the Orion government, it will be nearly impossible to establish.”

  “What does Starfleet say, Captain?” McCoy asked.

  “Officially, there is no proof of Klingon involvement in the incident, or of any connection between the Klingon government and private Orion businessmen,” Kirk said.

  McCoy was already shaking his head.

  Kirk spoke before the doctor could voice his thoughts. “Unofficially, finding such a connection has become a high priority for all active starships. We are to actively scan for any unusual Orion activity.”

  “Captain, what will that accomplish?” Scotty said. [21] “We already know the Klingons are preparing for war. Even if we prove the Klingons and Orions are working together, we’ll still be looking at the same larger problem.”

  “Quite right, Mr. Scott,” Kirk said. “But we need to shut down any Orion intelligence-gathering operations before information reaches the Klingon Empire. We are also to use all available means to learn about the Klingon plans from any hostile Orion forces we encounter.”

  “Aye,” Scott said, “I just hope that the Klingons will nae slip in the back door while we are chasing Orions.”

  As Kirk nodded, McCoy spoke again.

  “Can we inform the crew of this mission, Captain?” the doctor asked.

  Kirk shook his head. “No, right now the Klingon situation is still classified. We are under orders to keep it from becoming general knowledge.” Kirk raised his hand to silence the doctor’s protest. “To give the diplomats more maneuvering room in dealing with the Klingons.”

  Kirk turned to his Vulcan first officer. “Mr. Spock, please begin scanning for relevant signs of unusual activity.”

  “Yes, sir,” Spock said. “However, it will be a difficult task given the varied nature of Orion ... activities in the galaxy.”

  “Noted,” Kirk said. “Lieutenant Uhura, coordinate with Command to allocate some of your resources to study Orion communications and codes.”

  “Yes, sir,” the communications officer replied.

  “Mr. Scott, status of repairs.”

  “All repairs complete, Captain,” the chief engineer said. “We have replaced or repaired all of the [22] artificial-gravity generators, as well as all affected circuits. We also upgraded a few systems. Additional repairs at starbase will nae be necessary.”

  “But a checkout by starbase personnel is required by regulations since some of the repairs were supposed to be performed at starbase facilities.”

  “Captain—” Scotty began.

  “Regulations, sorry, Mr. Scott. I will speak to the base commander and make sure the starbase engineers are out of your engine room as quickly as possible.”

  Mr. Scott seemed satisfied.

  “Time to Starbase 42, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked.

  “One day, four hours, forty-one minutes, Captain,” the Vulcan said without even checking his computer terminal.

  “Shore-leave schedule for the crew?” Kirk asked.

  “Completed, Captain,” Spock said.

  “Excellent,” Kirk said, standing. “Thank you for your time.”

  Chapter Two

  STARFLEET COMMAND HEADQUARTERS

  SAN FRANCISCO, EARTH

  LIEUTENANT WEST entered the admiral’s office, carrying his data padd. The admiral gave him a warm smile and gestured to the seat in front of his desk.

  West took the seat, which gave him a full view of the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate, which dominated the large window behind the admiral.

  When West had first entered that office, he had been impressed by the view in spite of himself. Now, he still thought the view powerful and beautiful, but West’s galaxy had changed since then.

  At first, he had seen it as a metaphor for the powe
r that Admiral Justman and Starfleet commanded. Now, it was a symbol of what the Federation stood to lose—would lose if what the admiral feared came to pass.

  “I have prepared my report, Admiral,” West said.

  “Give me the highlights,” the admiral said.

  [24] “I have looked at every piece of Klingon cultural information I could find, going all the way back to the earliest entries in the Vulcan database. The most promising line of inquiry I found was regarding a growing cult around the Klingon religious warrior figure named Kahless, who lived fifteen hundred years ago. His teaching codified many of the Klingon cultural beliefs about honor and personal behavior. While still an aggressive philosophy, it provides a framework of rules, an understanding of which in the future could be an asset in negotiations.”

  “In the future?” the admiral asked.

  West was no longer surprised by the admiral’s ability to see right to the heart of any complex issue.

  “As I said, the cult is growing, but is not yet a dominant force in the Empire. I do not think that will happen for another seventy-five to one hundred years,” West said. “It’s in nothing we can use for the current crisis. I’m sorry, sir.”

  The admiral merely nodded.

  Back at the Academy, West had believed that modern cultural-analysis techniques would make warfare a thing of the past. As a xenoanthropologist, West was prepared to do pioneering work in that field himself.

  He had expected to do that work on a starship, over the course of years. Instead, the admiral had made him a special adjunct and given him an office at Starfleet Command. The admiral had also given him virtually unlimited resources to come up with a peaceful solution to the current problems with the Klingon Empire.

  “I do have a list of suggestions and possible strategies for Ambassador Fox and his team,” West said. “They may be helpful in negotiations.”

  [25] The admiral studied West for a moment, then said, “But nothing that will likely forestall the current crisis.”

  “No, sir,” West said.

  The admiral read something in his face. “Son, you have been on this project for less than two weeks. I expect the best from everyone on my staff, but I don’t expect miracles.”