“Is the artifact what they stole from Vanguard?”

She narrowed her eyes and stared into space. “Possibly. I recall no mention of an artifact in any of the recent news about the station, so if that was what Joshua Kane procured for the Klingons, it was very likely part of Vanguard’s mission to explore the Shedai mystery.”

That speculation made Pennington uneasy. “I don’t care to think about Klingons playing with Shedai gadgets.”

“I share your reservations. The Klingons have been single-minded in their efforts to harness the most destructive aspects of the Shedai’s technology. If the artifact is part of that agenda, then it is imperative we relieve them of it.”

Pennington concurred with an exaggerated nod. “Absolutely.” Then he added, “And if the artifact has bugger all to do with the security breach on Vanguard or the Shedai?”

“That will depend on the Zin’za’s next heading,” T’Prynn said. “If they set a course back into Klingon space, we will have no choice but to terminate our pursuit. This vessel lacks sufficient stealth technology to cross their border undetected, and it is neither fast enough to outrun a Klingon cruiser nor powerful enough to survive a fight with one.”

“So you’re saying if the Zin’zaheads for home, we’re going down to check out the artifact.”

“Correct.”

“And what about Commodore Reyes? Or have you forgotten he’s on board the Zin’za?”

Before she could answer him, the guttural voices returned to the comm channel. “Transport complete,”said the Klingon aboard the Zin’za. “Excavation team confirms receipt.”

“Acknowledged,Zin’za . Well done.Qapla’ !”

The Zin’zaofficer echoed, “Qapla’ !”

The channel went quiet, and T’Prynn noted movement on the sensor display. “The Zin’zais breaking orbit,” she said.

T’Prynn watched to see where the Klingon battle cruiser would go; Pennington didn’t know what to hope for.

On the one hand, after spending more than five months trapped in a dark, cold tin can with T’Prynn, he was ready to get out and stretch his legs on a real planet, with real air and real sunshine. On the other hand, a planet occupied by Klingon forces that might be meddling with Shedai artifacts—a practice whose lethal hazards he had witnessed firsthand—was hardly his idea of a vacation spot. The Skyllawas dim and chilly and stank of antiseptic, but it also had proved to be safe.

“Heading confirmed,” T’Prynn said. “The Zin’zais on a direct course back to Klingon space. They have just made the jump to warp speed.”

In a voice consciously stripped of all enthusiasm, Pennington replied, “Hurray.” Then he said a silent prayer for Diego Reyes, who now was being taken beyond their reach.

T’Prynn turned her attention back to the piloting controls. “Anchor retracted,” she said, pushing buttons and flipping switches. “Engaging thrusters.” The starfield outside the canopy seemed to waver and pitch gently as she guided the Skyllaaway from the asteroid. “Course laid in. As soon as the Klingon cruiser moves behind the planet, we’ll make a warp jump into low orbit.” She looked at Pennington and added with mild emphasis, “You should fasten your seat’s safety restraints. We are likely to encounter intense turbulence.”

“Bloody hell,” Pennington said as he strapped himself in. “This is like flying with Quinn, except you talk more.” The last buckle snapped shut around his waist. “Maybe we should think about this—”

“Engaging warp drive in three … two … one.”

The stars stretched and fused into a blinding flash, which gave way to the surface of a Class-M planet. The Skyllashuddered and lurched as it slammed into the upper atmosphere, and T’Prynn fought to maintain control as she nose-dived toward the planet.

Pennington knew he shouldn’t ask his next question, but he couldn’t help himself. Over the roar of air ramming against the ship and the screaming whine of the engines, he shouted, “What if we don’t reach the surface before the Klingons come back around in orbit?”

“They will destroy us with their disruptors,” T’Prynn said, as if it were no big deal.

His fingers clenched the straps of his safety harness as he held on for dear life. “All right, then,” he hollered back as he watched the ground rush up to meet them. “Carry on.”

38

The Klingon convoy announced itself from a few kilometers away with a tower of golden dust that rose from the road behind it.

Quinn lay prone behind a jumbled mass of broken stone, watching through a crack in his rocky cover as the Klingons approached. His squad of Denn recruits crouched on either side of him, their hands closed like vices around the rifles he had given them. After weeks of sniping and hit-and-run attacks, this was going to be their first major assault on the enemy.

“Everyone stay calm and follow my lead,” Quinn whispered to the men. “Stretch and his boys are waiting for us to make the first move, but don’t worry—they’ll be there.”

Gesturing as he spoke, he addressed his troops one at a time. “Hopalong, remember to fire a few shots at a time, and check your targets. Don’t waste your power cell if you can’t hit anything. Slugger, stay behind cover; if you go chargin’ into the open without me tellin’ you to, I’ll shoot you myself. Doc, you got the mortar, so land your shots right in the middle of their formation. Turtle and Spaz, just do what I do and shoot anybody who ain’t one of ours. Everybody clear?”

Five upturned thumbs assured him they were ready.

He hunkered down and listened as the Klingons’ treaded all-terrain vehicles turned a corner and advanced toward his position. They were right on schedule.

Every week since their arrival, the Klingons had sent their convoy to round up a new batch of laborers and transport them out to the excavated temple. Until the ATVs made their pickup, their only passengers were Klingon soldiers.

Reckon they don’t figure it’s worth wastin’ shuttle fuel to move slaves,Quinn thought.

In the final moments of quiet, every detail seemed hyper-real to Quinn: the uncommon warmth of the early-morning sun, the stillness of the air, the sky’s deep shade of blue, a bead of sweat tracing a circuitous route down the side of his face to fall from his jaw to the dusty ground.

Then the convoy rolled squarely into the kill zone, and Quinn’s fist closed around the master detonator switch.

Improvised explosive devices on both sides of the street engulfed the four-vehicle convoy in surges of white fire. The earsplitting thunderclaps of the blasts came a split-second later, followed by the rending of metal as the blast waves shredded the four armored ATVs.

When the initial rush of flames and pitch-black smoke mushroomed up and away, the two ATVs in the center of the convoy had been mangled and knocked onto their sides. Both were on fire. The lead and follow vehicles had been badly damaged: both had lost most of their treads, leaving them immobilized.

Quinn barked, “Doc, hit the lead truck! Squad—now!” He scrambled to one knee, aimed over his protective wall of concrete slabs, and opened fire on the convoy.

His men leaped into action beside him. Just as Quinn had taught him, Doc unleashed a mortar round on the first ATV in the convoy. The plasma charge hissed through the air and slammed through the armored vehicle as if it were made of paper. Half a second later, a detonation inside the ATV scattered its parts and passengers in multiple directions.

Hatches slid open on the two toppled ATVs, and Klingon troops began hurtling up and out, rolling to their feet ready to fight. The passengers in the last ATV also evacuated their vehicle and jumped to cover moments before Stretch’s mortar man blew the armored ride to pieces.