“If you are my aide, then listen to me,” he said, staring up into Ditagh’s face. “I will brook no more interruptions in the negotiating sessions, no more disruptions.” Kage paused, seeking the words that would enrage his aide. “You will speak only when I so deem.”

Ditagh’s face went through a rapid succession of transformations, from anger, to acceptance, to confidence, and finally to amusement, a smirk emerging from beneath his beard. “As you wish,” he said, lifting the bloodwine to his lips.

Kage moved without hesitation, swinging his open hand up and batting the glass from Ditagh’s grasp. Kage did not look away, but he heard the glass strike the wall, then fall to the floor and shatter. “I’m not toying with you, Ditagh,” he said. “Do not test me.”

Ditagh turned his head toward where the glass had broken, then glared back down at Kage. “Test you,old man?” he said. “What possible glory could I find in doing battle with a broken-down peace-lover?” Ditagh moved even closer to Kage, standing over him and obviously trying to intimidate him with his sheer size.

Kage did not flinch. “Isn’t that why you’re here?” he asked. “To fight me? To prevent me from completing my mission?”

“I am here as your aide,” Ditagh maintained, evidently unwilling to take Kage’s bait.

“And to act on behalf of the High Council,” Kage ventured. “Or at least some of those on the Council.” He had not intended to be so straightforward with his accusations, but Ditagh was perhaps not as foolish as he seemed. Even though Kage had wanted to learn the identity of the power behind Ditagh surreptitiously, he would settle right now simply for knowing.

“I am youraide,” Ditagh repeated.

Kage returned Ditagh’s cold stare, at the same time searching for the tactic that would tell him what he wanted—what he needed—to know. Finally, he smiled up into Ditagh’s face, then turned and headed for the door. “It is a weak man who works in the dark for another,” he said as he went.

“It is youwho are weak,” Ditagh called after him, and Kage stopped just as the door swept open before him. “And you make the Empire weak as well.”

Now Kage turned back around and stepped away from the door, which he heard close again behind him. “I am attempting to strengthen the Empire,” he said. “There is no dishonor in not fighting. There is only dishonor in not fighting well.”

“You avoid fighting,” Ditagh told him. “You seek peace at any cost. You are willing to give up anything for it, including the will of your own people.”

“Klingons do not want war with the Romulans and the Federation unless we can win such a war,” Kage said. “And right now, we can’t. We still need to strengthen our infrastructure and fully resupply our military.”

“What Klingons want,” Ditagh pronounced, “is their birthright. We are warriors.” He paused, then added derisively, “At least, most of us are.”

“Say what you want to say,” Kage told him.

Ditagh apparently needed no further invitation. “You are a lackey for peace,” he accused. “Qo’noS should withdraw from these talks and let the Romulans and the Federation destroy each other for us.”

“Is that what you really want?” Kage asked. “To sit back and allow our adversaries to decimate themselves, then for us to march in and defeat the battle-weary? Would you also kick a three-legged targ?”

“A three-legged targdoes not possess a weapon capable of laying waste to much of the Klingon Empire,” Ditagh argued.

“Nor does the Federation,” Kage said, and at last, he thought he saw a direct path to the information he needed. “The general is wrong or misguided,” he said, then hurried on, trying to avoid drawing attention to the statement. “Such stupidity and shortsightedness were what weakened the Empire twenty years ago. You were only a child, Ditagh, but surely you remember the destruction of Praxis.” The Klingon moon had housed the Empire’s primary energy facility, which had been taxed beyond its capacity in order to prepare for war with the Federation. A massive explosion had resulted, blowing half of the moon out into space and raining destructive fallout on Qo’noS. “The accident left us crippled and unable to provide enough energy for everyday life, let alone to take us into battle. If we move too quickly toward war again, we will once more be left weakened.”

“The Klingon people grow tired of accepting Federation handouts,” Ditagh said, “and of begging for peace with the hypocritical Federation and the disloyal Romulans.”

“But Ditagh,” Kage implored, “there is no honor in fighting a battle you cannot win.”

“There is no honor in believing your own people are unable to win battles,” Ditagh countered.

“We canwin battles,” Kage avowed. “But we don’t need starships and disruptor banks to do so. The Romulans and the Federation are on the brink of war between themselves, but neither dare attack without an alliance with us. As far from full strength as the Klingon Defense Force is right now, our ships would be the difference in any war, whichever side we choose to fight with. So we can wield our political might, reestablish our power that way, and at the same time, prevent the devastation war would bring upon us, even in victory.”

“Political power,” Ditagh said, an expression of disgust on his face. “You are an old man, filled with the cowardice of a little girl…or a big girl. Azetbur is a plague on the Klingon people.”

“ChancellorAzetbur is the leader of the High Council,” Kage said seriously, “and deserving of your respect.” He paused, then decided to try again: “The general would lead no better.” It was a gamble; although numerous generals sat on the Klingon High Council, the name Kage was looking for might not have belonged to one of them.

But Ditagh finally bit. “General Gorak is a great man,” he said indignantly. “He would return honor to the Council, to all of Qo’noS. And he would end this pathetic peace conference.”

Kage charged the few steps back across the room, wanting both to deflect attention from the information just divulged, and to deal with Ditagh’s outburst in today’s session. As he reached Ditagh, Kage threw his hands out and straight-armed the larger man. Caught off guard, the younger Klingon did not have time to brace himself, and he sailed backward into the wall. Kage lunged after him, thrusting a forearm up into his neck and applying pressure. Ditagh gasped for air, his eyes wide with surprise. “You will speak no more of ending this peace conference,” Kage hissed through gritted teeth. “If you interfere anymore with what I’m trying to accomplish here, with what Chancellor Azetbur wants me to accomplish, I’ll snap your neck.” To underscore his words, Kage pushed his arm forward. Ditagh’s face darkened, his eyes bulged.

Finally, Kage pulled back. Ditagh doubled over, dropping to his knees as he choked and coughed. Kage watched him for a moment, then leaned in next to his ear and said, “Do not underestimate this old man.” Then he straightened and headed for the door.

As Kage passed back into the corridor, he heard Ditagh sputter, “Azetbur is a pretender. She will fall.” Kage did not stop or look back. He already had what he’d come here to get: the name of the power behind Ditagh. General Gorak was the traitor on the Klingon High Council.

Minus Eight: Universe

Sasine stood before John at an open airlock on Space Station KR-3, the two of them in their Starfleet uniforms. An Enterprisecorridor stretched away beyond the airlock, the great vessel waiting to take him away once more. She supposed she could have resented the ship because of that—perhaps shouldhave resented it—but why waste such emotional effort on something so foolish? She loved John, and she would miss him terribly once he had gone, but captaining a starship contributed to who he was as a person, and was therefore something that she loved about him. She never once entertained the notion of wanting him to give that up. She would support whatever choices he made for his life, as long as they fulfilled him and did not deny the man he was.