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“I understand completely, Chancellor, that is why I think it is important to—”
“Raknal V will be a Klingon world! We have not attempted to take it by force because we abide by our agreements. Do notask any more of us, Ambassador, or we will be forced to test the limits of our willingness to placate our allies.”
“Are we allies?” Dax asked, a wry smile on his face. “I see an empire that has engaged in a massive military buildup without informing its allies of its purpose or number. I see an empire that has rejected every trade overture made by the Federation over the last ten years. I see—”
“Chancellor!”
K’mpec followed this new voice to its source: the large entryway opposite Kravokh, through which ran a young man in a warrior’s armor.
“Why do you come before us?” Kravokh asked sharply, though to K’mpec’s ears he sounded almost relieved at the interruption.
“We are invaded! The outpost at Narendra III is being attacked—by Romulans!”
Council Chambers then burst into a chaotic jumble. Speculations, accusations, denials, all of them ran rampant through the hall.
“Are they mad?”
“The Romulans would never attack!”
“We must destroy them!”
“Narendra III is of no consequence.”
“We must have vengeance!”
But all K’mpec could think was, Lorgh was right. Curse his beady little eyes, I.I.’s information was correct.
“Enough!” Kravokh’s voice silenced the chamber. To Dax, he said, “Ambassador, for obvious reasons, we must suspend your—discussion until this crisis is resolved. You are welcome to stay in the First City for as long as you wish. We will summon you when we are ready to proceed.”
Dax, to his credit, was completely conciliatory. “Of course, Chancellor. If there is anything I or the Federation can do to be of assistance, please inform me immediately.”
With that, the Great Curzon took his leave.
Once he was gone, Kravokh snarled. “Summon General Krin immediately! Why were we not warned of this possibility?”
The councillor to K’mpec’s left muttered, “We were.”
K’mpec growled, but his fellow councillor was correct. I was a fool. And thousands will die on Narendra III to pay for my foolishness.
“We must be cautious,” said one councillor whom K’mpec knew to be sympathetic to the Romulans. “These could be the actions of renegades among the Romulans. They have been inactive for over thirty turns—why attack now?”
Another who had no clear position on the Romulans said, “Their leader is weakened. Perhaps he wishes to go out in a blaze of glory.”
As the Council continued back and forth while awaiting the general’s arrival, K’mpec found himself tuning it out and thinking ahead to the aftermath of the crisis. He needed to mend fences with Lorgh quickly. Whether this was the action of a few renegades, a new Romulan offensive, or something else entirely, K’mpec needed to know everything that I.I. knew.
A day later, K’mpec found himself calling on Curzon Dax. Although he could have taken rooms at the Federation embassy, Dax instead chose to reserve a room at a Klingon boarding house in the First City—one much closer to the Great Hall than the embassy. K’mpec admired the Trill’s fortitude. Few outsiders had the ability to thrive in Klingon accommodations, particularly ones of Dax’s age.
K’mpec found Dax in the small room, sitting at the workstation, several padds lying in front of him unread. He was sipping from a mug.
“Greetings—K’mpec, is it not? Join me.” Dax held up a bottle of bloodwine from one of the lesser vintners. “We can drink to the honored dead.”
That was a toast K’mpec was willing to participate in, especially given the sheer number of honored dead there were to drink to. Exact casualty figures had not yet been tallied, but hundreds of warriors died defending Narendra, not to mention much of the population of that world—and the entire complement of the U.S.S. Enterprise,a Starfleet vessel whose captain, Rachel Garrett, sacrificed herself and her ship trying to save Klingon lives. Already Garrett’s name was being spoken of in Council Chambers—indeed all over the Empire—with a level of respect that few outsiders had earned.
“To the dead,” K’mpec said after Dax had poured him some wine. “May they battle in Sto-Vo-Korfor all eternity.”
Dax said nothing, but slammed his mug into K’mpec’s, some of the wine splashing over the side. Unheedful of it, he drank the remainder, as did K’mpec, who smiled. The wine was weak, but at least Dax knew how to drink like a Klingon.
“I knew her, you know. Garrett. Fine woman. She deserved better.”
K’mpec frowned. “She died well.”
“I have seen more kinds of death than you would believe possible, K’mpec,” Dax said, his voice slurring enough to make one wonder how much bloodwine he had imbibed before K’mpec’s arrival. “I have yet to see one that could be classified as dying ‘well.’”
Perhaps you do not understand us as well as you think,K’mpec thought, but knew better than to say out loud. Death was life’s sole inevitability—how one faced it was the most important thing anyone could do. How can he understand so much about us and not that?
Dax gulped some more bloodwine, then continued. “You are the sixth councillor to visit me since yesterday, K’mpec. Are you also here to tell me that you should cede Raknal V to the Cardassians, and would have done if not for Kravokh’s insistence?”
Interesting,K’mpec thought. In fact, he had intended to say no such thing. But the fact that five councillors did spoke volumes. Kravokh’s support had dwindled even further than K’mpec imagined. Until yesterday, his policies had been good for the Empire, if a bit single-minded. Now, with the embarrassment of the attack on Narendra, Kravokh’s Raknal V obsession had cost Klingon—and Federation—lives, and possibly gained them a dangerous enemy. Not that relations between the two Empires were ever all that friendly—the Romulans were tentative allies even at the best of times—but the new Warbird ships that the Romulans had unveiled in the attack on Narendra were as fearsome as anything the Klingon shipyards had produced of late.
And K’mpec could not get the image of Kravokh’s fear-laden eyes from his mind.
“No,” K’mpec said in answer to Dax’s query. “I wish to discuss what may be done to strengthen our ties to the Federation. You were correct in what you said yesterday. Our alliance is weakened to the breaking point.”
“Not on our end,” Dax said. “I think Captain Garrett showed that quite admirably.”
K’mpec rumbled his agreement. “In that spirit, Ambassador, I assure you that the High Council will not forget Captain Garrett’s sacrifice. And if they are in danger of doing so—I will remind them.”
The ambassador and the councillor spent the next hour discussing possible ways to improve ties between the governments, from trade agreements to increased intelligence sharing between the Defense Force and Starfleet. At the moment, it was simply words, but words led to actions, and the Empire needed to take action.
Especially with regard to the Federation. If we are not careful, we will make enemies of the entire quadrant. We are far past the point where we can rely solely on our own strength.
When he returned to his office in the Great Hall near the Council Chambers, K’mpec was met by one of his aides. “There is news, sir,” the young woman said. “Praetor Dralath has been overthrown. He has been replaced by an aristocrat named Narviat.”
K’mpec smiled. It seems you overplayed your hand, Praetor.Then again, the defiant resistance of the Klingons combined with the Enterprise’s sacrifice made their invasion something less than successful.
The aide added, “And you have received a private message.” She handed him a padd.