Gorkon descended the granite spiral staircase at the front of his manor, taking a moment as he neared the bottom to straighten his steel-studded red leather jerkin on his lean frame. He stepped off into the main foyer and looked around until he saw Captain Chang loitering in the entryway to the main dining room, admiring the mounted heads of game Gorkon had felled on various worlds throughout the Empire. “Welcome, Captain! Make yourself at home!”

The captain turned and smiled at Gorkon’s approach. “I’m honored to be your guest, my lord. I hope you don’t mind that I came early. Your servant let me in.”

“I’d have met you myself, but I was quelling Azetbur’s latest tantrum,” Gorkon said. “I’ve seen Targhee moonbeasts that were easier to calm. She’s become quite the spitfire of late.”

Chang grinned. “Teenagers. It happens to all of them when they reach that age. Or so my brothers tell me.” They clasped each other’s forearms in a fraternal greeting. “Wait until you taste the bloodwine I brought. It’s a rare Kriosian bottling from an exceptional vintage.”

Gorkon released Chang’s arm and clasped his shoulder. “Will it go with gagh?”

“I’m sure it will.”

“Then we’re both in for a treat,” Gorkon said, leading his loyal thane down a lavishly appointed hallway toward his private library. “My chef is preparing the most succulent gagh in the Empire. This will be a meal worthy of heroes.” As they drifted past marble busts of warriors of renown and famed Heroes of the Empire, he added, “I have other good news, as well.”

A sly look from Chang. “As do I. But I won’t presume to speak out of turn.”

Acknowledging the captain’s deference, Gorkon said, “I’ve interceded on your behalf with Chancellor Sturka and General Korok at the High Command. Your name has been placed on the short list for promotion to colonel. I expect it will become official within the year.” He landed a congratulatory slap on Chang’s back. “We’ll make you a general in no time.”

Chang stopped and turned to face Gorkon, who mirrored him. “You honor me, my lord. I pledge that my service shall bring glory to your name.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Gorkon said, ushering the captain to follow him inside his library. On the left side of the room as they entered, a long table built from thick, heavy pieces of Ty’Gokor redwood was strewn with loose papers, open tomes, and hand-annotated star maps. “Now, tell me, Captain: What news do you bring me?”

The captain was ecstatic. “The Gonmog Sector will soon be rid of Starfleet’s bloated starbase. Even as we speak, a Tholian armada bears down upon it. In two days’ time, there’ll be nothing left of it but wreckage and memories.”

Gorkon said nothing and withheld all emotion from his face. News travels quickly, he realized. Chang’s attitude troubled him. Knowing he could not risk asking questions too pointed in their nature, he chose to feign ignorance of the Tholian attack on Vanguard. “What finally prodded the Tholians into action?”

“No one knows, and I for one don’t care. All that matters is that they’ve come loaded for siege, and it promises to be a glorious battle. If not for the risk of being caught unnecessarily in the crossfire, I’d love to be there so I could savor the carnage from my bridge.”

Staring out a window twice his height at the deepening purple twilight descending on the distant outline of the First City, Gorkon folded his hands behind his back. “I imagine the Battle of Vanguard will be quite a spectacle. It’s rather a shame my old nemesis Diego Reyes no longer commands the station. He would have made the Tholians pay dearly to win the day.”

“It would make no difference,” Chang said. “Either way, Starfleet and the bugs will pummel each other into blood and scrap, and then the Gonmog Sector will be wide open for us. If we move now, we could dominate that region in a matter of months.”

That drew a sidelong glance of dark amusement from Gorkon. “Don’t be so confident, Captain. That station might be the Federation’s most visible symbol of power in the sector, but it’s not their only resource.” Dark premonitions crowded his thoughts as he gazed back into the night. “Far from breaking their will, losing Vanguard might actually galvanize Starfleet’s commitment to exploring and colonizing the region.”

“I think you might be overestimating them, my lord.”

“I assure you, I’m not.” He turned and paced away from the window. “The Federation is an unpredictable opponent, Captain. It comprises dozens of species on scores of worlds. That gives it complexity and leads to strange interactions. What breaks one of its members emboldens others.” He stopped and took his House’s centuries-old ceremonial bat’leth off the wall. “To understand the Federation, one must think like a swordsmith. Pure metals can have great luster and value—but if you want a supple blade of fearsome strength that’s light enough to strike quickly, you need an alloy.”

Chang eyed the honor blade in Gorkon’s hand and smirked. “If the Federation is a bat’leth, my lord, then I’m glad our Defense Force is a disruptor: modern, unseen until its moment arrives, and able to deal out death and fire without warning.”

Gorkon laughed and slapped Chang’s shoulder. “Well played, Captain! Qapla’!” He let Chang take a self-mocking bow as he returned his bat’leth to its place on the wall above his mantle. Then he motioned toward the open doorway. “But enough talk of the Federation’s woes. A feast awaits us, and we’d best not keep my new wife waiting.”

“Wise counsel, my lord. Lead on.”

They walked together down the hall, back to the dining room, where the kitchen staff was setting out the first course of their meal—fresh pipius claws and flagons of warnog. Gorkon’s wife, Illizar, met them as they entered. “You’re late.”

“Nonsense,” Gorkon said. “We’re right on time.” His wife shot him a challenging stare, which he weathered in good humor before taking his seat at the head of the table. Illizar took the chair opposite his, and Chang sat halfway between them on one of the table’s long sides, facing the broad picture window that looked out on a vista of dizzying sea cliffs and crashing waves.

As Gorkon hoped, Illizar asked Chang to tell tales of his greatest victories and narrowest escapes, and the Captain provided the evening’s entertainment by obliging the lady of the manor. But as Gorkon listened to Chang spin one yarn after another of vengeance, cunning, and cold-blooded violence, he wondered if such a man was really the ally he needed for the long work that lay ahead. He harbored no doubts of Chang’s loyalty, but unlike Lugok, Chang struck Gorkon as one who might never accept the idea of rapprochement with the Federation. Despite his youth, the man had already amassed a lifetime’s worth of hatred for the Empire’s greatest rival in local space; such animosity, in Gorkon’s experience, was never surrendered easily or without great reservation.

Well, it’s not as if I need to make a diplomat of him overnight, Gorkon reasoned. He expected his political agenda would take decades to bring to fruition. Perhaps, given that much time, I can sway his thinking. Mitigate his bloodlust. Persuade him of my vision for the future.

Gorkon kept telling himself that, while Chang guzzled one goblet after another of bloodwine and filled the dining room with gales of malicious laughter.

31

Every passageway on the Endeavour was crowded with mechanics making last-second repairs through open panels in the bulkheads, ordnance crews moving antigrav pallets stacked high with photon torpedoes, and noncombatant personnel from the station who had been packed like sardines into the ship’s guest quarters and cargo bays.