The same stench that pervaded every other corner of the ship—a musky blend of sweat and unwashed hair, coupled with a pungent odor of spilled alcoholic beverages—had crept into this cabin, as well. Reyes wondered how much of the stink emanated from the ship itself and how much came from its crew.
Captain Kutal entered. “Before we begin, you both should know that while I have been told to treat you as guests, if you make even the slightest gesture I don’t like, I will kill you without warning. Do you understand?”
Ezthene said nothing.
Reyes yawned, then said to Kutal, “Just get on with it.”
Kutal growled at Reyes, then looked at the two pairs of guards. “Dismissed.”
The order provoked wary glances between the four soldiers. They looked to Kutal for confirmation. He tilted his head toward the portal behind him. Moving with bitter resignation, the warriors filed out of the compartment. Kutal locked the door behind them.
“Now it’s time for you both to meet your benefactor,” he said. He pressed an intercom switch mounted on the tabletop and said, “We’re ready.”
Another door slid open, and a lone figure strode in. He was a tall, lanky Klingon with a proud bearing. He had thick, curling brows, and his jawline was adorned by a well-groomed beard. The ornate decorations of his robes and sash identified him as a member of the Klingon High Council.
Reyes would have recognized the man even if he’d been garbed in a burlap sack. He uttered the Klingon’s name in a hostile whisper: “Gorkon.”
Councillor Gorkon gave Reyes a small smile. “You remember me,” he said. “How flattering.”
Hearing the Klingon’s voice brought back a flood of bad memories from Reyes’s years as captain of the U.S.S. Dauntless. On numerous occasions he had crossed paths with Gorkon, who back then had been the commanding officer of the battle cruiser I.K.S. Chech’Iw. More than a few lives had been lost on both sides during those so-called skirmishes.
The councillor nodded at Captain Kutal. “Leave us.”
Kutal tensed. “You should not be left unguarded with—”
“I am armed, Kutal,” Gorkon said. “If I need you, I will call for you. Now step outside.”
Grudgingly, Kutal unlocked the door behind him and left the briefing room. The door hissed shut as Reyes glared at Gorkon and asked, “What is this? Your overdue revenge?”
Gorkon lifted his chin, and his smile took on a smug air. “Hardly. I prefer to let my enemies self-destruct. Case in point: you. I couldn’t have planned anything as spectacular as that which you have brought upon yourself.”
Ezthene’s voice crackled through his vocoder as he interjected, “Diego’s question stands, Councillor.”
Arching one eyebrow, Gorkon replied, “On a first-name basis, are you? I must say, Diego, perhaps I misjudged you. You’ve learned something about diplomacy after all.”
“And you’ve learned to talk too much,” Reyes said. “You must’ve picked that up serving as Chancellor Sturka’s lackey.”
Gorkon’s smile vanished. For a moment there was a flash of anger in his eyes, but then he drew a deep breath, and his ire subsided. “That was the past. I’ve brought you both here to discuss the future.”
“What future is that?” Reyes asked. “The one where I face a kangaroo court on Qo’noS and get my head chopped off for doing my job? Or the one in which all your people starve to death because your government spends too much on its military?”
Curling his hands into fists, Gorkon clenched his jaw for a moment. Reyes took perverse pleasure in testing the limits of the Klingon politician’s patience.
Finally, Gorkon said, “The reason I have expended capital and favors to capture the two of you alive is that you have both, through your public statements and actions, demonstrated yourselves to be big-picture thinkers when it comes to the Gonmog Sector.” To Ezthene he added, “Your people call it the Shedai Sector.” He glanced at Reyes. “The Federation refers to it as the Taurus Reach.”
Reyes remained suspicious of Gorkon’s agenda. “Okay, but you didn’t bring us here just to sing our praises. What do you want from us?”
“I seek your counsel,” Gorkon said. “You both have detailed knowledge of what is at stake in the Gonmog Sector, and the lengths to which your governments will go to control it. Because you both have demonstrated a willingness to rebel against the belligerent mind-sets of your peoples, it is my hope you will be willing to talk with me.”
Ezthene asked, “What specifically do you wish to discuss?”
“I want to find a way to steer our nations off this road to mutual annihilation,” Gorkon said. “The Federation is sending more ships to Vanguard. The Tholian Assembly is conducting reconnaissance of vulnerable worlds in the Gonmog Sector. And my own government is making moves to seize territory that will cut off Vanguard from supplies and reinforcements, as a prelude to its destruction. And we all know why.”
He keyed some commands into a terminal on the tabletop in front of him. A holographic image of a complex DNA molecule appeared above the table and rotated slowly. “This amazing little string of genetic information has pushed our peoples to the brink of all-out war. None of our leaders is willing to compromise or surrender. But this is a war none of us can win—it will consume us all and leave nothing behind.”
Gorkon turned off the hologram and added, “We three must find a middle path to peace, or else we’re all going to die.”
10
February 23, 2267
Quinn nudged the Rocinanteout of warp speed a few million kilometers from the Class-M planet he and Bridy Mac had been sent to scout. Checking the proximity sensors, he said to Bridy, “Looks like we’re all alone out here.”
“Good,” she said. Her attention was fixed on the readout from the ship’s sensors, which were scanning the system and its third planet. “No radio activity on the planet’s surface,” she said. “I’m reading a lot of metallic debris in orbit.”
“Satellites?”
“I think so.” She adjusted the settings on her console. “Some of them have nuclear cores, but none of them is active. No signal activity.”
Pointing at the planet’s two small moons, Quinn asked, “What about those? Any signs of life?”
“Negative,” Bridy said. “Airless rockballs.”
The impulse engines thrummed as Quinn piloted the Rocinanteinto orbit. “I’ll keep clear of the orbital junkyard if you want to take a closer look at the surface.”
“Already starting my sweep,” she said. “Looks like all but the tropical latitudes are glaciated.”
He settled into a steady orbit a few hundred kilometers above the highest satellites. Locking the course into the autopilot, he asked Bridy, “What about life signs?”
“Mostly concentrated in a band around the equator,” she said. “The southern coast of the planet’s largest land mass has a decent variety of plant forms and a few groupings of humanoids large enough to register on sensors. And it looks like the oceans are teeming, even under the ice sheets.”
Quinn reclined his seat. “Maybe I’ll do some fishing.”
“Stay on task for once, will you?” She tapped more commands into her console. “Based on the distribution of refined metals and residual topographical features, I’d say this planet used to have hundreds of major population centers. It might have supported a population of as many as two billion people.”
Despite his efforts to remain aloof, Quinn found himself curious about the planet. “What happened to ’em?”
“No idea,” Bridy said. “A war. Maybe a natural disaster or a virus. No way to tell without going down there.”
“Never my favorite answer,” Quinn said.
Bridy relayed a set of coordinates to Quinn’s navigation screen. “Let’s start with an aerial recon of the deserted cities. I want to get a sense of how long ago this civilization collapsed. After that we can head for one of the larger settlements on the southern coast.”