The Art of the Impossible

Kaasin smiled, and now the look in her gray eyes was mischievious. “He already fights better than you, my love, I think he has earned it.” Then the iron returned. “Besides, I will not leave him or Kurn behind with Kahlest and the servants for four months.”

Mogh laughed, a harsh sound, as if the man’s larynx was unaccustomed to it. “I know better than to argue with you, Kaasin. So be it. We shall all go to Khitomer, as pla

Worf let out a cheer. “He will die at our hands!”

Before conversation could continue, a beeping emitted from K’mpec’s coat of office. Reaching into one of the voluminous pockets that lined the garment, he pulled out a communications device. “Rnh. The High Council has declared an emergency session. I must go. Tell Kahlest I look forward to seeing her again before you leave.” He rose, and activated the device. “This is K’mpec, code wa’maH Soch.”

A red transporter beam took the councillor away.

“Good,” Worf said, reaching over to K’mpec’s plate, which still had some half-eaten food. “I can finish his blood pie!”

Mogh and Kaasin both laughed at their older son’s enthusiasm for his meal—not to mention K’mpec’s—but Lorgh could not join them. He was concerned. Worf could at least defend himself, and both Mogh and Kaasin were the worthiest of warriors. But Lorgh feared the worst might happen on Khitomer, and he would not endanger both sons of Mogh. He owed General Worf too much to allow all of his male heirs to go to their possible deaths. The one least able to fight was the one who needed to stay behind.

Besides, if the worst happens before Mogh can identify the spy, I will need a long-term backup plan.

“I urge you, Kaasin, to reconsider sending Kurn, at least. He is but an infant who ca

“I will protect him,” Kaasin said.

“Of that I have no doubt, but to risk your entire line…”

Mogh fixed Lorgh with a stare. “Do you question our strength?”

“No, but I know the Romulans. If they learn of your true mission, or if you uncover theirs, all of your lives may be forfeit.”

“So I am to leave my newborn child with servants and inferiors while I teach mok’barato an outpost full of fools?”

If they are such fools, why did you accept the assignment?Lorgh was tempted to ask, but that would have been a mistake. Kaasin was, like any mother, trying to protect her family, and Lorgh could not blame her. So he played his final piece. “One of the warriors assigned to Khitomer is Ja’rod.”

That got their attention, as Mogh knew it would.

His mouth full of blood pie, Worf asked, “Who’s Ja’rod?”

“My greatest rival,” Mogh said. “And his House and ours have been in conflict for generations. You remember Huraga?”

Lorgh recalled that the young warrior was a shipmate of Mogh’s on the Pu’Bekhand a friend to the House of Mogh.

Worf seemed to know him as well. “He told good stories.”

Mogh smiled. “Yes. You remember the one about the time we fought against the House of Duras?”

Nodding eagerly, Worf said, “That was a great story!”

“Ja’rod is the head of that House now.” Mogh looked at Lorgh. “If he is on Khitomer—”

Lorgh held up a hand. “We have no proof that he is the Romulan agent. In fact, we have no reason to assume that Ja’rod has any links to the Romulans at all. Yes, his ancestors sold ships to the Romulans decades ago and brought together rich Romulans with destitute Klingons, but that means nothing for the purposes of this mission.”

Kaasin bared her teeth. “The House Head is responsible for the actions of his House.”

“By law and tradition, yes—but on Khitomer that does not make Ja’rod a spy.”

Mogh nodded. “It also makes our entire family a target.”

“I will not leave Kurn here!”Kaasin said in a tone that would brook no argument.

In Kaasin’s emphasis on where Kurn was to be kept, Lorgh saw how to move in for the kill. “Iwill take charge of the boy while you are gone. He will be cared for as if he were one of my own children until you return.”

Mogh and Kaasin exchanged a look. Klingons had no telepathy like Vulcans or Betazoids or Letheans, but Lorgh knew from his relationship with his own mate that couples often had unique psionic abilities all their own. Though he could not hear it, an entire conversation took place between the two with that look.

Then Mogh turned back to Lorgh, both challenge and concession in his dark eyes. “If you were any other man, I would kill you for trying to steal my son. But my father named you friend, as have I. For that reason—and because I would not put Ja’rod in a position where he can harm my son before he is of an age to defend himself—I will trust you to care for Kurn while we are gone.”

“Thank you,” Lorgh said. “Believe me, this way is for the best.” He leaned back, resting his hands on his belly. “Now then, what is for dessert?”

Chapter 30

Romulus

Only two people still living knew of Koval’s mountain retreat. The house was nestled in an outcropping halfway up the peak of Kor Thon, constructed of sensor-proof plasti-form. Snow pounded against the outside of the house, drifts cascading on the windows. No roads led to the house; the configuration of the outcropping and the prevailing winds made approach by air all but impossible. It had not been easy to get the house constructed, but Koval had spent his many years in the intelligence field amassing currency of a variety of sorts—monetary in order to acquire material and builders, informational in order to acquire permission and secrecy—that enabled him to have this vacation spot all his own.

Presently, he sat in the sitting room, drinking a hot mug of tarkaand reading an old-style codex book. It was a philosophical treatise on the efficacy of obedience to the state, written by a Cardassian philosopher from some three hundred years past.

The Tal Shiar agent was relieved to see that the green transporter beam that appeared in the middle of the sitting room coalesced into one of the two left who knew of this place: Timol, his chief aide. (The other was the head of the Tal Shiar, Jekri Kaleh, the only person from whom Koval dared not keep any secrets.) Timol had been a most competent aide, providing Koval with excellent intelligence on Praetor Dralath—who had proven especially susceptible to the pheremone enhancers Timol wore—and the i

He did not admonish Timol for disturbing him while he was on vacation, for she would never have violated his privacy without reason. Instead, he set down the book and regarded her. “What is it?”

“I have managed to intercept the contents of an interrogation conducted by the Obsidian Order.”

Irony,Koval thought. I read Cardassian philosophy and am now confronted with Cardassian intelligence.“An interrogation by whom?”

Timol raised an eyebrow. “Not of whom?”

“The conductor of the interrogation will dictate the usefulness of the intelligence provided by its subject.”

Smiling, Timol said, “Well then you’ll be pleased to know that the interrogator is Corbin Entek.”