“Chancellor, I did not reque—”

A glint of light flashed to the left of Azetbur’s head, and in the next instant, Gorak staggered backward. His hands came up quickly, and the sudden movement caused Azetbur to reach for the d’k tahgat her side.

Her hand closed on empty air.

Did I neglect to arm myself?she thought. Or did Gorak somehow disarm me?

Before her, the general dropped to his knees, and now she saw the blade—not her d’k tahg,another sort of knife—sticking from his neck. As she watched, his hands clutched at the handle and tried to pull it out. Blood coursed through his fingers and down the front of his uniform. A gurgling sound escaped him, and a glistening purplish bubble of saliva formed on his lips. After a few seconds, he dropped backward and fell still.

Behind her, Azetbur heard footsteps. She did not have to turn around to see who it was. General Kaarg had suggested that she not be alone when she met with Gorak, and now one of his staff—a tall, heavily muscled man named Morahg—walked out around the dais, from where she had left him in her study. He squatted beside Gorak’s head and reached toward him. Azetbur thought that Morahg would remove the blade, but instead he pulled a black, studded glove from his own hand and placed two fingers by Gorak’s nose and mouth. She did not see any breath above Gorak’s face in the still-cold room.

“This is more than taking a ‘precaution,’ ” Azetbur said. She understood Morahg’s loyalty to Kaarg and therefore to her, and she would have killed Gorak herself if it had come to that, but she did not like this action being taken without her sanction. She told Morahg as much.

“Gorak was an enemy,” he said, sliding his massive hand back into his glove.

“I know that,” Azetbur said, “And General Kaarg and you know that, but many people don’t.” As she spoke, Morahg took hold of Gorak’s sword, moved it to the right, then drew a d’k tahgfrom the dead general’s side. “We are alone in my office,” she went on. “This is going to require an explanation.”

Morahg put his hands on his knees and pushed himself upward, rising to his considerable height. “The explanation is simple,” he said. “I killed Gorak after he attacked the chancellor of the Klingon Empire.” He held up the d’k tahg.“After he attacked you with this.”

“Of course,” Azetbur said, but she thought about all of the other details that they would have to provide about exactly what had happened here. She peered down at the lifeless form of Gorak, and she had to admit that she felt relieved at his death. “I think—” she began, but then fire sliced through her chest. Her hand fell from the walking stick and it slammed to the floor. Looking down, she saw the hilt of a knife protruding from her chest. “What—?” She looked up at Morahg.

“Gorak was an enemy,” he repeated. “If you were to have died, Chancellor, then he would likely have succeeded you. And with his reputation, and his popularity among the Klingon Defense Force, he would have been difficult to unseat. Now, in death, he will be a coward and a traitor.”

Azetbur looked back down at the knife that had buried itself in her body. Attempting to ignore the pain, she grasped the haft and pulled. As the blade came free, she cried out, the pain excruciating. She collapsed to the floor, barely able to bring one hand up in time to prevent herself from striking her head.

Above her, she saw the vaulted ceiling of her office. Her vision narrowed, black areas seeping in around the edges. Small tufts of white curled above her and vanished, the vapors of her breathing, now coming in short wheezes.

She wondered if Morahg had turned on General Kaarg, but then realized that she had made a terrible mistake in accepting Kaarg as an ally, in trusting in his loyalty. She recalled all the subtle and overt signs of that loyalty, now so obviously meant to deceive. A backroom planner,some called him, mocking his choice to win battles through careful strategy, rather than through force. He had convinced her that Gorak had been plotting against her, had—

Kage,she thought, and the realization caused more agony than the knife had. Had her friend also betrayed her? Kage had told her that Ditagh had revealed the name of Gorak as the traitor they had suspected. Had he been lying, or had Ditagh?

“Di…Ditagh,” she managed to say.

Morahg’s face appeared above her. “I am Ditagh,” he said, a smile contorting his features. “And I play the role of the fool well. I serve General Kaarg…who will be, with you and Gorak gone, the obvious next chancellor of the Klingon Empire.”

As Azetbur lay dying, she thought of her people, of the recent progress made through the isolationism of the Romulans and the alliance with the Federation. That Kaarg had maneuvered Gorak, had maneuvered her, seemed immaterial compared to the question of what would befall the Empire now. Would Kaarg dissolve the pact with the Federation? Would he resume the push to war just recently abandoned by the Romulans? Would he undo all the progress she had made over all these years?

Ditahg continued talking—she could see his lips moving—but she barely heard his voice, as though he spoke from far away. Her breath, which had been visible in the cold room, had gone now. She resisted death, not because she feared it, but because she did not want to leave her people. She had led them for so long now, protected them, guided them, the responsibility for their safekeeping left to her by her father—

Father.

Her heart flew as she realized that soon, in Sto-Vo-Kor,she would finally see him again.

I’m going to see Father,she thought.

I’m going to—

I’m—

And then nothing.

As Commander Demora Sulu gazed at the stars gliding by on the main viewscreen of the Enterprisebridge, she had to stifle a yawn. She did not feel tired, though. After her shift ended, she still planned on joining the primary command staff—Linojj, Buonarroti, Morell, Tenger, Kanchumurthi, and Tolek—for a gathering to bid farewell to Ensign Fenn; Sulu also hoped that Captain Harriman would join them, although he had been somewhat reclusive of late. Borona would be leaving the ship tomorrow, beginning a leave of absence that would last at least two months, as she returned to her homeworld to undergo the Shift.

During the last few weeks, as Dr. Morell had been able to determine an accurate timeline for Borona’s condition, Sulu had attempted to learn more about it, beyond what little she had already learned from the doctor, the captain, and Borona herself. She hadn’t found much literature about the Shift, but the few pieces she had read all indicated that the process could be extremely painful—and not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. That didn’t surprise her. When she thought about herself, she could say that she had been substantially the same person for all of her adult life. She had certainly changed as she’d learned new things, and as she’d grown older and more experienced, but such changes had been gradual, and largely a matter of her own choosing. But Borona had no choice in what she would go through. Sulu hoped that the young woman would be able to get through the experience as well as possible, and that once she had undergone the Shift, that she would still be the same person. For apparently not every Shift went well, and not every Frunalian who went through the process emerged recognizable as who they’d previously been. And in a few cases, some Frunalians did not retain their sanity.

Borona would be disembarking the ship tomorrow, once Enterprisehad arrived at Starbase 77. From there, she would take a transport bound for home. The Enterprisecrew, on the other hand, would remain at the base for three days while special scientific equipment was installed on board.