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

  West knew that two weeks was barely enough time to scratch the surface of a project of this scope, with stakes this high. But that was an excuse and West knew it. Two years of study would not yield him better results.

  The lieutenant had made a name for himself at the Academy as an outsider. He had gained a certain notoriety for his papers criticizing Starfleet policy for being too quick to rely on military solutions to problems that could have been solved with cultural understanding and diplomacy.

  Those views had cost West friends and his relationship with his father. Now, he had the ear of a fleet admiral, who West firmly believed wanted a peaceful solution to the Klingon problem. And all West had to offer were negotiating tips and excuses.

  “I’m ... sorry, sir.”

  Admiral Justman showed genuine surprise for a moment. Then he gave West a thin smile.

  “You have nothing to apologize for, Mr. West. In fact, I owe you an apology,” Justman said.

  “Sir?” West said, not bothering to mask his own surprise.

  “I read your work on the importance of xenostudies in the management of relations with other races. I knew it [26] was an overdue to play a more important role in what we do,” Justman said.

  “And you brought me here, gave me everything I asked for,” West said.

  “Knowing all the time that I was asking you to do the impossible—to do what teams of xenostudies personnel in the diplomatic corps had failed to do. I asked you to stop a war that is almost certainly inevitable.”

  The admiral raised a hand to silence West’s protest.

  “And I have to admit that I took some pleasure in opening your eyes to the realities we face here. That was one of the reasons I chose you in particular for this job. It was beneath me and beneath the service,” Justman said.

  West did not know what to say. Of all the things that the admiral had said and done to surprise him, that apology was the most surprising of all.

  Yet it did not erase a milligram of the shame that he felt at his own failure.”

  West said nothing for a long moment. Finally, the admiral broke the silence. “Let’s hope we live long enough to study our regrets, Lieutenant.”

  Returning the admiral’s smile, West was suddenly struck by something the admiral had said.

  “What were the other reasons you chose me, Admiral?” West asked.

  For a moment, West thought he had caught the admiral by surprise. Then, he heard the door open behind him.

  Turning, West saw a male yeoman enter carrying a large tray. West was disappointed that it was not Yeoman Hatcher. She was attractive and he had been meaning to find a moment to speak to her alone.

  [27] The yeoman put the tray down on the small conference table by the window.

  “I took the liberty,” the admiral said, getting up.

  West took his customary seat and was not surprised to see one of his favorite foods on the plate in front of him.

  After they were done eating, the admiral said, “Tell me what you have. We have a meeting with Ambassador Fox tomorrow. After the last time you and he spoke, I expect him to be on his guard.”

  West spoke for the next hour, with the admiral asking pointed questions. The information was not much, but it would provide some advantage in negotiations. And in the current situation, he knew that Starfleet and the diplomatic corps needed all the advantage they could muster.

  It was only later, back at his desk, that West realized the admiral had not answered his question about why he was hired.

  Kell exited the turbolift and headed toward his destination. He did not hurry. He was not looking forward to his duty, but he knew he must do it. The Klingon knew he had waited too long—and that time had made the task harder, not easier.

  And the longer he waited, the harder it would become. And the greater the chance of his own exposure.

  As he stood outside the door, he found himself hesitating to take the next step, the one that would lead him inside. Less than two weeks ago, he had faced down an overwhelming force of Orions and their weapons. He had not hesitated or flinched from his duty then.

  Yet he hesitated now. It was not fear, he knew—at [28] least, not exactly. It was a reluctance to hurt humans that he had come to respect—humans to whom he owed his life.

  Nevertheless, his duty to the Empire was clear and he would do it without concern for how he felt about his actions. In many ways, his task would be a kindness that prevented further loss and pain.

  Stepping forward, the Klingon watched the door open.

  Leslie Parrish was inside.

  “Jon,” she said, her face immediately brightening.

  The Klingon nodded and entered the quarters. His face was set.

  “What is it?” she asked, concern in her voice.

  For a moment he did not know how to begin.

  “What’s wrong?” she prodded, touching him gently on the shoulder.

  By force of will, he opened his mouth and said, “I wish to speak with you.”

  She smiled at that. “You wish to speak. That’s a first. I don’t know anyone who avoids conversation more.”

  Her smile faded when she saw that his own serious expression was not changing.

  “We have become close,” he said. Then, for a moment, he was unable to think of anything else to say.

  “That is one. way to put it,” she said in a flat voice without any of her previous humor.

  “I have ... valued that closeness. But I do not see a possibility for a long-term ... situation for us,” he said.

  Leslie’s face had set and was unreadable. “Have I asked you for a long-term situation?”

  Kell did not know how to respond to that. He suspected she did not expect a literal answer.

  [29] “Have I?” she demanded.

  “No,” he replied, giving the only answer he could think of.

  By her expression, he could see that the answer did not please her.

  “Then what are we talking about!” she shouted.

  The Klingon knew he had to try a different approach.

  “It is just that this is dangerous for us,” he said.

  “What is dangerous? Our closeness, the fact that we might face a long-term situation, or the fact that every day either of us might beam down to a planet and not beam back up?”

  The answer was yes to all of those things, and to other questions she did not and could not ask. However, the Klingon felt sure that another literal answer would just anger her further.

  “Well?” she demanded. “I’m waiting—”

  “Leslie,” he said. Kell rarely addressed her by her first name, and it stopped her in midsentence. For a moment, her face softened.

  “Everyone’s afraid of getting close,” she said. “I think it’s worse in our job because of what we face every day. That’s why we have to have more courage than everyone else.” Then she gave him a thin smile. “After all, risk is our business.”

  The Klingon returned the smile. He didn’t know how to tell her that what was difficult for most human security officers was completely impossible for him. That while others might have a slim chance at having a long-term situation, such a situation was not only impossible for him, but also dangerous for her.

  [30] Then he realized that he was doing what he was doing for her. It would protect her, her life, and her feelings.

  His own feelings were too strong to allow any kind of harm to come to her if he could prevent it.

  He could tell her none of this, just as he could not tell her the truth of his birth and his blood.

  No, he could not tell her the truth. Instead, he just looked at her, trying to communicate with his eyes what he could not put into words of any language. He willed to her what he felt, he willed to her his conflict and his pain and what he had to do.

  He hoped that somehow, she might understand.

  For a long moment, the silence hung in the air between them. Finally, he spoke. “I cannot continue to see you.”

  He
watched understanding wash over her face. Perhaps not understanding, but acceptance. Then her face set, in a way that he had not seen since the incident on the second planet of System 1324. Her expression should have warned him of what would come next, but the blow came too quickly for that. Leslie Parrish struck out with her right hand, bringing the palm flatly against his face.

  For a moment, he was too stunned by the slap to closely follow what happened next. She was shouting and pushing at him.

  A moment later, she gave him a hard shove that sent him into the corridor. He struck a technician who was walking by and nearly sent the man sprawling.

  “Get out!” He heard the shout one last time before the doors to her quarters closed.

  [31] The Klingon turned to make sure the human he had struck was unharmed.

  “It’s okay,” the man said, looking at him with understanding.

  For a moment the others passing by in the corridor glanced at Kell with embarrassed sympathy and then continued on their way.

  Chapter Three

  LIEUTENANT WEST and Admiral Justman were the first to arrive at the diplomatic briefing. The first time West had seen the conference room, he had been a first-year cadet and he had been impressed by its size and the view of the bay. The second time was just two weeks ago, and he had accompanied the admiral on only his second day on the job. He had been worried then about the future and the coming conflict with the Klingons, yet he had been hopeful and determined to help prevent that terrible outcome.

  This time, he was still determined but less hopeful.

  The admiral’s staff arrived and West noted that they treated him with respect. He knew he had impressed them in the last diplomatic briefing. He also knew they believed in his project because the admiral did.

  He wished he felt worthy of that confidence.

  [33] The ambassador and his staff entered, exchanged polite greetings with the admiral and his officers. At the first meeting, West had seen the ambassador’s confident stride and bearing as arrogant and self-important.

  Since then, West had studied the ambassador’s record. He had prevented major wars, saved countless lives.

  West had been pleased to show off his own insights into dealing with the Klingons. He had enjoyed embarrassing the ambassador.

  West felt shame run through him. A lot had changed in two weeks. He had changed.

  And so, apparently, had Ambassador Fox.

  There were creases in the man’s face that West was sure had not been there last time. He had the haunted look of a man who carried a heavy burden. West knew that look, because he had seen it on Admiral Justman’s face.

  The ambassador faced him and the lieutenant saw something that shocked him—a bandage on the man’s forehead. Suddenly, West was certain that Fox had received the injury under that bandage in negotiation with his Klingon counterpart.

  Ambassador Fox was looking at him expectantly before West realized the man had addressed him. He also noted that the ambassador’s staff was scowling at him.

  “Hello, Ambassador,” West said.

  Fox nodded and turned to take his seat.

  “Ambassador,” West said, “I would like to apologize for my behavior at the last meeting.”

  Fox looked at him with genuine surprise. “Apologize?”

  “I was out of line, sir,” West said.

  [34] The ambassador dismissed him with a wave. “You were right. Never apologize when you are right, Lieutenant.”

  West took his own seat. “Your insights helped us secure the first meeting I have had with the Klingon ambassador in months.”

  “Was the meeting productive?” Admiral Justman asked.

  “Illuminating, Admiral,” Fox responded. “But, no. It was not productive. We made some progress on trade agreements and other small matters, but the Klingon ambassador refused to discuss or even acknowledge any significant problems between the Empire and the Federation; I finally questioned him directly about the Klingon arms buildup and fleet maneuvers and he refused to budge from his position. Of course he was lying.”

  “You are sure?” Justman said.

  “Absolutely. I can tell when I am being lied to by a practiced and accomplished equivocator. The Klingon ambassador is neither practiced nor accomplished. I am convinced that the Empire is preparing for war, a war they will wage in approximately seven months.”

  “Seven months?” West said, gasping.

  “Seven months,” Fox repeated, his voice strong and confident.

  “Are you sure of the time frame? Intelligence reports have provided us with a range—”

  “Seven months,” the ambassador repeated. “It coincides with the time frame for all of the important concession and compromise points that the Klingon ambassador made. I am certain the ambassador was lying and has no intention of honoring those [35] commitments because he and the Klingon Council believe we will be at war by then.”

  A heavy silence descended over the table.

  “My next discussion with the Klingon ambassador needs to be much more frank, Admiral. My question for you is, how prepared is Starfleet for a Klingon attack of the kind we are facing?”

  The admiral did not hesitate. “We are not ready,” he said.

  Fox simply nodded. “In seven months?”

  “We will be more ready,” Justman said.

  “But not completely,” the ambassador finished for him.

  “No,” the admiral said. “Starfleet is basically a civilian organization. We were lucky when the Enterprise repelled the recent Romulan incursion. And we’ve been fortunate that the Federation has not faced a serious large-scale threat to its security in fifteen years. The Klingons have been preparing for this fight for twenty-five years. The bottom line is that if they attack today, we lose. In seven months we have a chance.”

  West did not have to ask how good a chance. He had read the intelligence reports on the Klingon buildup and he knew enough about Starfleet resources to guess the rest.

  “We would have an even better chance if the Klingons would wait another four or five years,” Justman said. “The next-generation starship is in development now.”

  Ambassador Fox gave a grim smile. “I will keep that in mind.”

  Fox studied the table for a moment. “Seven months is still a long time, and nothing is inevitable. Getting a meeting with the Klingons was a small victory. We will [36] simply have to do better and convince the Klingons they have nothing to gain from an attack. Mr. West, I understand you have a new report on possible negotiation strategies.”

  West nodded. “I agree with you, Ambassador, that the key is to convince the Klingons that they can’t win, that in fact they would suffer a humiliating defeat. The key concepts are the Klingon notions of duty and honor.”

  For the next hour West spoke. To his own ears, his conclusions seemed pitifully thin, but the ambassador listened carefully and asked pointed questions, as did his staff.

  For a brief moment, West found himself believing that Fox might indeed be able to work a miracle and that his own work would help in some small way.

  He and the admiral walked back to their offices together.

  “Have you seen the report from the Enterprise?” Justman asked.

  “Yes, sir. The incident was terrible,” West replied. The lieutenant felt a pang at the mention of the Enterprise. He had requested that vessel as his first choice for starship service. That was before the admiral had sidetracked the career he had planned for himself.

  It was less than two weeks ago, yet it felt like a lifetime.

  “What do you think of Captain Kirk’s conclusions that the operation was an attempt by the Orions to collect intelligence on starship capabilities and Starfleet ground-force tactics?” the admiral said.

  West thought before he answered. The captain’s conclusions were completely unsubstantiated. They fit the events and the facts, but there was no proof. It was [37] exactly the kind of military thinking that West had objected to so much in his days at th
e academy.

  “I think Captain Kirk is absolutely right,” Lieutenant West replied.

  If the admiral was surprised by his response, the older man did not show it.

  “I do as well,” Justman said as he entered his own outer office.

  West turned and headed into his own office. Sitting at his desk, he prepared himself for a long night. Or more precisely, he prepared himself for seven months of long nights. In his washroom, he splashed water on his face.

  Looking in the mirror, he saw something that surprised him—a haunted expression on the face of the young lieutenant who looked back at him.

  Karel found something like peace in his disruptor room. Focusing on his job had allowed him to focus the fury caused by the Earthers who had taken his father years ago and now his brother.

  Every time the port disrupters fired, he imagined they burned with the vengeance of the Klingon Empire as his blood burned with it.

  He also took pride in the performance of the weapons room. It had improved significantly since he had replaced Gash as the commander. In the days since that time, he had only faced a single challenge to his command.

  Karel believed that the reason the others had not challenged him yet was because his leadership had gotten results. The port disruptor room was not only more efficient than it had been, it was now performing better than [38] the starboard disrupter room—much better. That might cause Karel a problem later with the senior weapons officer there, but Karel would worry about that when the time came.

  For now, he saw that he had given pride to the Klingons he commanded. Kahless taught that a warrior fought best when his blood was tested and put to good use.

  On the other hand, Karel had seen that Klingons often—too often—put their ambitions ahead of their duty. He did not dare allow himself to lower his guard because he perceived that his Klingons respected him. If he did, he would end up like Gash, who had lost an eye and his command to Karel’s challenge.

  As the final drill of the day ended, Karel surveyed the results, visiting each weapons console and giving praise and corrections as necessary. He was impressed by Torg’s performance. Karel had had to break the Klingon’s hand when the Klingon had tended Karel’s backup cooling system. The hand was healing and Torg had done particularly well. It was a short time ago that Torg had tried to sabotage Karel’s work for his own advancement. Now the Klingon was offering suggestions for improvement to the junior officer who ran the backup system next to him.