Homefires,
Chapter Two:
-Supreme Chancellor K'mpec, "Reunion"
-----
Twenty-Two years ago...
The funeral was everything that one would expect for a Lord of the Khanate, a man who had led others in battle and controlled the destinies of millions of people across his territory. He had been a living god, like the pharaohs of Old Earth, and his death was a cause for mourning like the Universe had never seen. The entire city of Fatalis was cloaked in darkness and gloom, it's inhabitants dressed head to toe in black, their eyes downcast as the anti-gravity carriage made it's way slowly towards the entrance to the Old City. On the bier, dressed in his finest armour, a ceremonial sword clutched to his chest, Lord Adair appeared a figure of legend, a warrior stepped out of time immemorial to be interred among the greatest leaders the Khanate had ever seen.
He would have hated it.
Standing beside the carriage, Darius, Warmaster of the Khanate, frowned as he escorted his oldest friend to his final resting place, his mind churning as he clenched down on his anger at this spectacle Adair's funeral had become. It was true. Adair would never have wanted any of this. He would have wanted a burial in space, to join so many of the loyal soldiers he had sent to their deaths over the decades. Something quiet and private, only a few loyal friends and retainers present to see his body off on its final journey among the stars. A quiet, mournful reading. Shakespeare, maybe, or perhaps even Dylan Thomas. "Do not go gentle into that quiet night." That would have been appropriate. Adair would have liked that.
But now Adair had become a symbol, his corpse paraded in front of the entire Khanate Empire to be buried in the old underground city of Fatalis. Once there, anyone could go gawk at the tomb of the great Lord Adair, the man who could have become Khan if he had wished it, but turned down the throne. Would history view him as a great man, or as a fool? Darius couldn't say. How many of the Khanate would understand that it took a greater man to turn away from power than to grasp it? Not many, he'd be willing to wager. No, the Khanate had fallen from Enkidu's ideals. Enkidu, who even though he had grasped power over the dead body of his own brother, had done so hesitantly, for the good of his people rather than for his own ends. Yes, he had preached for war with the Federation, but what afterwards? Had Enkidu wanted the Khanate to fracture as they had, to become little more than wolves clawing at each other's throats for their own gratification? Of course not. The Khanate had been meant to be a greater man, a warrior poet bringing civilization where none had been before. Instead, civilization had descended into tatters, warlords ruling their own territories and snapping at any who encroached. This entire affair reeked of hypocrisy to Darius, crocodile tears and fake sympathies.
Before him, the entrance to the old city loomed, an enormous cavern that descended hundreds of feet into the depths of Ceti-Alpha V. It was here that Khan Noonien Singh had led his people during the cataclysm that had devastated the surface of the planet eight centuries ago. A cavern that had begun as little more than a desperate shelter, and now it was one of the holiest places in the Empire. Alia, Enkidu, Raine, all the greatest leaders were buried here. It was a great honour to be counted among them.
Still, the thought did little to brighten Darius' opinion.
Torches lined the walls of the tunnels, casting a dim light on the sombre procession as it continued down, passing tomb after tomb until they arrived at the place that had been set aside for Adair. Slowly, gently, the pallbearers placed his coffin inside the tomb, sealing him away for all eternity in a place he would not have wanted.
The funeral over, Darius spun and marched from the catacombs. He needed some fresh air.
-----
"It is with the deepest regret that I find that I must claim my father's throne as my own. As the eldest child of a Lord, I always knew that the heavy mantle of leadership would fall on my shoulders someday, but I never believed that it would be a day so soon.
"But fall on me it has, and I will do everything I can to be a Lord as great as my own father was. I will miss him, and I will miss his guidance, but as every child must, I will move on without him. But I take comfort in the knowledge that you, my father's closest advisors, stand beside me.
"But the assassin who claimed my father's life yet remains unpunished, his blood stained hands free. Before we can focus on the future, we must sever this last tie to the past. The assassin must be found and punished, his blood spilled in exchange for his actions.
"Investigation into my father's death shows that the weapon which struck the death blow belonged to a guard of Lord Vincent, a minor Lord who controls space on the very edge of the galaxy. Perhaps Vincent believed that with my father gone, he could claim our space as his own. We must show him that this will not happen.
"In two days time, the Lady Morrigan will arrive to sign a treaty joining her forces with ours before we strike at Vincent. Together we will crush the man who ordered my father's assassination and take his territory for our own. Only with this done, can my father's spirit rest in peace."
As the twelve year old boy claimed the throne, his counsellors began to applaud, chanting his name until the room was filled with sound. Silent and hidden in the shadows, Darius watched the boy's face. It was the face of a mourning child, a boy who had been forced to become a man before he was ready, but who was willing to live up to the challenge. It was the face of a consummate actor.
Darius had not become Warmaster by sheer talent alone. He knew how to read people, to sift through the lies and meaningless double-talk to see the truth and the larger picture. And now, in Adair's son, he saw the sparkle hidden behind the unshed tears, the slight twist at the edge of his lips, and he could hear the forced vibrato in his voice. The boy was not in mourning. He was happy to see his father dead. Whether he was simply taking advantage of a real plot or whether he had taken a more direct role in Adair's death, Darius didn't know.
All he did know was that there was a monster on the throne, and that he seemed to be the only one to see it.
Turning to leave the room, he listened to the sound of the future.
"Rakiin! Rakiin! Rakiin!"
-----
The young girl was sitting in the darkness of the room that had once belonged to her father, her tiny body curled up on the large bed clutching the pillow to her chest. For a long moment, Darius watched her, caught between letting her know of his presence and the desire to remove himself from the room, leaving her to her grief. In the end, his concern for her outweighed any thought of leaving.
"Aishwarya?"
The girl looked up, her dark eyes hidden behind streams of raven black hair, but even masked behind the tangled strands, Darius could see the tears on her face. How could two children raised by the same man be so different?
Kneeling beside her, Darius brushed the hair away from her face. "There, there. It's alright, Aishwarya. Everything will be alright."
"No, it won't." Her voice was strained with grief and shock, trembling as the sound emerged from her lips. "Nothing will be alright, Darius. Nothing."
As Aishwarya continued to weep, Darius thought about his suspicions regarding Rakiin. If Rakiin had killed Adair, what was to keep him from eliminating Aishwarya as well? The girl wasn't safe here, but then, she would never be safe anywhere. Taking her by the shoulders, Darius helped her to her feet. "Come with me."
Together, they left Adair's quarters and walked down the darkened corridors of the Gilgamesh. "We live in a dangerous world, Aishwarya, and I regret that you had to learn that the way you have. It is a hard lesson to learn, that violence is all around us our entire lives, from the moment of our births to the moment of our deaths. It infects our society and corrupts our souls. Some of us have a greater capacity for it than others, and we always walk the razor's edge between sanity and madness. There are those, like me, who use this 'gift of violence' to protect others. Our friends, our loved ones. But there are those who use it to their own ends, to gain power over others, and it is these that you have to be most careful of."
Slowing his pace, Darius turned the corner and stopped before a pair of large doors. Kneeling until he was at eye-level with Aishwarya, he continued. "These people may appear to be friends, lovers, or even family. And you have to be wary of them. In our world, trust can be as deadly as a knife. Do you understand?" Aishwarya nodded, her tear stained face serious. "I've known you your entire life, Aishwarya. I know you have your secrets, but I also know that you have a blessing that few Khanate have.
"You have no evil in your heart, and that is a great thing indeed."
Rising to his feet, Darius smiled. "People will take advantage of your good nature, they'll underestimate you. But they'll never realize that you are more powerful than they could possibly conceive." Pushing open the doors, Darius led Aishwarya into her father's library, spreading his arms wide as he watched her gape at the thousands of books around them. "To someone like you, Aishwarya, this room is the greatest arsenal you could imagine. Your father knew this, and he told me that he wanted this room to be yours someday. This... this is his way of protecting you."
Aishwarya laid a hand on one of the books, closing her eyes. "I miss him, Darius."
"I know you do, Aishwarya. I know. But he will never truly leave you.
"And neither will I."
-----
Today...
The cool desert wind blew across the sandy terrain far from the outskirts of Fatalis, casting rippling patterns across the rocky plateau as the ruins of Ceti-Alpha VI shone high above in the heavens. Light from the distant star reflected off the distant asteroids, creating millions of tiny moons above the desert planet.
Clad in desert gear, the small group of Khanate warriors trod carefully across the plateau, their eyes and ears sharp, searching for any hint of their quarry or of the ever dangerous Ceti Alphan Eel. Together, they marched, each one carefully searching for sure footing before continuing. The desert was full of dangers, especially at night.
Without warning, a figure exploded up from the sands at their feet, a long wooden staff clutched in its fabric wrapped hands. A series of quick thrusts brought three of the four Khanate to their knees before their assailant turned and launched himself off of the plateau, vanishing into the darkness. Alone and surrounded by the bodies of his companions, Avram, the last surviving member of the expedition spun in place, his eyes darting from shadow to shadow, watching for movement in the night. His weapon was held in his hands, the latest plasma rifle available. He had been told that if he aimed carefully, he could strike one of the starships in orbit, burning through its shields and cutting into its hull. But power like that had no use without a target.
In the distance, he heard a long howl. A Jem'Hadar hound, most likely. He refused to allow it to distract him. Without a second thought, he ran for the edge of the plateau, leaping off the bluff into the night beyond. He fell for a hundred feet, landing on the desert floor with a grunt before rising to his feet and scanning the horizon with his rifle. Nothing moved.
With a flick of his thumb, he activated the rifle's sensor package, turning in a slow circle and searching the dunes for his opponent. For a long moment, all was quiet except for the howling of the wind striking the high bluff behind him. It's impossible, he thought to himself, no one can vanish like that. Not even him.
At the same instant that the rifle's sensors detected life, the robed figure exploded out of the shadows and struck, the simple wooden staff landing a solid blow on the rifle, sending it spiralling out of sight. Not to be outdone, the young Khanate pulled a blade from his gear and leapt at the blurring figure, bringing it down two-fisted. The figure side-stepped, driving a knee into his stomach and forcing him to drop the knife. As Avram rolled to the side, his prey snatched up the knife and flung it blade over pommel towards him. Wincing as the blade cut a path across his cheek, Avram reached out and grasped the handle of the rifle. Bringing it to bear, Avram aimed at the figure's head just in time to watch the other man's staff come crashing down towards his throat. They stood there, frozen in a bizarre tableau as they each appraised the other. "Yield." The figure shook its head, the bandages around its face dancing with he movement. Avram began to feel his temper rising. "I can shoot you before you can crush my throat."
The figure's shoulders began to move up and down. It was laughing at him! Dropping the staff, the figure reached up and began to pull off the bandages, exposing his features to the starlight. He was older, perhaps in his late seventies, with a long stream of greyish hair that stretched across his face in a neatly trimmed beard. Beneath the rags, he appeared frail, little more than skin and bones, but it was his eyes that dispelled that notion. Both of them burned more brightly than any flame. They were the eyes of a warrior, born and bred, forged in battle. They were the eyes of a legend.
With a laughing sigh, the old man pointed at a spot just above Avram's shoulder. "Look there." His voice was soft, the voice of a beloved teacher. Laying down the rifle, Avram rolled onto his side and came face to pincers with a Ceti Eel.
With a scream, he jumped back before noticing that the eel was dead, impaled with the knife the old man had thrown. Brushing himself off, the old man shook his head. "You were careless, Avram. Yes, you may have taken my life, but you would have paid for it with your own. " Lifting Avram's rifle, he examined it with a look of disgust. "Technology can only do so much. Khan Noonien Singh himself said, 'Improve a machine, and you may double productivity. But improve a man, and you gain a thousand-fold.'" Tossing the rifle at Avram's feet, the old man smiled. "Trust yourself first. Trust your machines second."
High above, a flash of green caught their eyes, pulling both of their gazes skyward. In orbit, a pale green star flared into existence for a brief instant, collapsing down to a bright dot that shot towards the planet before slowing into orbit. The smile on the old man's face grew even wider as he whispered to himself, "Welcome home."
Rising to his feet, Avram observed the old man. "Sir?"
"I'm pleased with you, Avram. You did quite well for your first test. It has been quite some time since someone your age has managed to last quite this long. Well done."
The young Khanate blushed a deep red at the praise. "Thank you, Sir."
"But now I believe we should collect your friends. I may have struck them a little harder than I had intended."
"Should we call for a retrieval team, Sir?"
The old man laughed, "Of course not! What did I just teach you about technology?"
"Trust yourself first."
"Exactly, and so we climb." And as Avram watched, Darius, once Warmaster of the Khanate, began to climb the bluff with an ease a man half his age would envy. Sighing, Avram tossed the rifle over his shoulder and followed.
-----
High above the surface, Aishwarya stood in the main transporter room of the Gilgamesh, her hands folded demurely in front of her as a team of nurses pushed Madden's stasis chamber into the room. Beside her, Rakiin watched as Madden's body was floated past on anti-grav repulsors, drifting to a halt in the centre of the transporter platform. Frost coated the glass enclosure, obscuring the Starfleet Commander's face from her view, but nothing could erase the man's anguish filled gaze from Aishwarya's memory. The knife she had carried for so long was gone was a dead weight around her waist, a Kraken pulling her down into the watery depths of her own despair. It was useless to her, an amalgam of metals without purpose. She had already proven to herself that she was incapable of using it when it mattered most, so why carry it?
Almost as quickly as the thought occurred to her, the image of a twelve-year-old Rakiin standing before her with blood-stained hands flashed before her mind's eye. Inwardly, she tensed, remembering the moment she had walked into her father's quarters to find her brother holding the bloody knife above their father's body. He was a fool, little sister. He could have been great, he could have been Khan, but he lacked the ambition.
And so you killed him? He was our father, Rakiin! He was our father!
Rakiin had stepped over the rapidly cooling corpse and grabbed her arm, holding the knife at her throat. Her wide chocolate eyes had watched as her beloved father's blood had dripped from the edge of the blade to stain her dress. Say nothing of this, little sister, ever. Because if you do, you will follow him. Do we understand each other, Aishwarya?
Innocence was not something that was normally found in Khanate children, but as Aishwarya had looked up into the maddened eyes of her older brother, she had felt her expression harden. Perfectly, Brother. I understand you perfectly.
Good. Dropping the knife, Rakiin had stepped back and looked down on their father. It's a shame it came to this. I wish you could be there, Father, when I become Khan. Wiping the blood from his hands, Rakiin had run from the room, an expression of horror growing on his face, screaming for help. Someone has murdered Lord Adair. Alone with her father's body, Aishwarya had dropped to her knees beside the knife, lifting it's blood soaked form and concealing it within her dress. As the tears began to fall, she had promised that someday, Rakiin would pay for this. Someday.
Someday.
Casting a sidelong glance at Rakiin, she noted the sadistic amusement behind his eyes as he stared at Madden's ruined body. He was the reason she still carried the knife. He was the reason behind so much in her life. Someday, she would plunge that knife into his heart, avenging their father with the same blade that had killed him. Someday...
Rakiin glanced at her. "A problem, Sister?"
"Of course not, My Lord. Merely a foolish thought flitting across my mind."
Shrugging his broad shoulders, Rakiin stepped up towards the transporter pad. "If you say so." Together, the siblings positioned themselves on either side of Madden's body, a host of Jem'Hadar guards stationed around them. "Have you heard the news from the surface, Aishwarya?"
Not taking her eyes from the floor before her, Aishwarya shook her head. "I have been rather... occupied... the past few weeks. What news?"
With a smile, Rakiin nodded at the transporter technician, answering only as Aishwarya felt the transporter beam begin to take hold. "It appears that the Great Khan is rather ill. How unfortunate, hmm?"
As the world vanished into quicksilver shadows, Aishwarya's hand brushed the knife hidden beneath her clothes.
Someday...
-----
"Okay, would someone mind explaining to me just what, exactly, is the Lost Fleet?"
Alex realized that he had a lot to catch up on. Six hundred years of history was not exactly something that someone learned overnight. Oh, you could catch the general overview, like "The galaxy has gone to Hell in a handbasket", but the details tended to take a little more time. Of course, he could have just downloaded Icarus' main databanks into his nanites, but as his professors at the Academy used to say: "That's the difference between simply knowing the material and understanding the material."
Selene turned around and looked at him. "Sorry. I guess that I just keep forgetting you're not from around here."
"Well, that's okay, but that still doesn't tell me anything."
Selene shrugged and sat down at the sensor station, crossing her legs as she leaned back in the bucket seat. "When Earth fell to the Khanate, the Federation as a political force ended. All of a sudden, all those thousands of worlds had no actual governing body and everything fell into chaos. It was just what the Khanate had wanted. All of those star systems, just waiting to be claimed."
"But the thing was, they still had one enemy left: The Romulans." Nyssa picked up where Selene left off, slouching against the rear bulkhead. "The Star Empire had barely been touched during the war, even though we had thrown in with the Federation and the Klingons. Because of that, after the Battle of Earth, the remains of Starfleet brought their top project to Romulus:
"The latest Enterprise, a warship that would be able to hold her own against the Khanate."
Alex nodded and looked at Selene. "I've heard this before. The recording we heard back in San Francisco, in the mainframe room."
"That's right. Admiral Bill Hutten, one of the great heroes of the Khanate War. Last thing he did before he died was send the Enterprise into hiding until she could be finished.
"Thing was, the Khanate turned towards the Empire. It took them almost two years, but they reached Romulus anyway."
Tal waved for attention from the pilot's seat, "Enterprise was just about done when the Khanate fleet entered the system. On one side, Augustus Raine and the Helen of Troy, leading a hundred fully armed and fully manned Khanate destroyers. On the other, Subcommander Toval and the Enterprise, defending the system with forty undermanned ships from a dozen races. It should have been a disaster."
"It was a glorious battle." Kordath's eyes danced at the image, "For three days, the skies over Romulus and Remus burned as the fleets clashed, fighting for the fate of the people on the planets below. Enterprise led the charge under Toval's command, cutting a path through the Khanate ships. They had not been expecting such resistance, and so they faltered.
"But all battles must end."
Selene stretched, rubbing the back of her neck as she continued. "After three days of fighting, the Khanate managed to get past Toval and attack Romulus. Every ship in the defence fleet had been boarded, millions were dead, everyone knew that they'd lost. But Toval still didn't give up. Enterprise had been severely damaged, weapons gone, warp drive off-line. All she had left was her transwarp core.
"So he deactivated the inertial dampeners and made a transwarp jump."
Alex flinched. You didn't have to be an engineer to understand what Toval had done. Without the dampeners to protect the crew, anyone on board when it made the jump would be crushed under the pressure. "He killed everyone on the ship."
"Not just his. He'd slaved the controls of the entire fleet into Enterprise's navboard. When he jumped, the fleet jumped with him. All twenty-nine ships whose engines were still online, crushing every boarding party the Khanate had sent. It wasn't a move designed to win the battle. It was an act of spite."
Nyssa looked up from her corner. "With no one to control them, the ships just vanished, never to be seen again."
Alex looked out the window. "Until now."
Selene stood and stepped up next to him, "I always wondered what had happened to them. Did they fly into a star? Were they still out there, still flying at transwarp? And now we know. They hit a sinkhole and got trapped."
Alex tapped a finger against his leg, his mind running through the new possibilities that this discovery unveiled. "I wonder…"
"You wonder what?" Tal frowned up from his chair.
A plan was quickly forming in Alex's mind. "Do you think that there might still be some torpedoes over on one of those ships?"
Kordath shook his head. "Doubtful. They vanished at the end of a battle. Their weapons are most likely depleted."
"I wouldn't need a live one. Just the casing would do. That and the singularity core from one of the warbirds."
"What are you thinking, Alex?"
A grin spread across the engineer's face that even the Cheshire cat would be proud of. "I've got the urge to go shopping. What about you?"
-----
Aishwarya and Rakiin rematerialized in the middle of an enormous courtyard, tall stone towers rising up all around them. Dust and sand spun around the polished rust-coloured stones in miniature whirlwinds, picking at Aishwarya's dark dress even as the cool night winds picked at her elaborate hairstyle. High above, the shattered remains of Ceti Alpha VI reflected baleful light down on the courtyard while, in the east, the first hints of dawn could be seen on the horizon.
Standing in front of the north entrance, two fully armoured guards stood at rapt attention, their eyes fixed on Rakiin's tall form. Both men were easily six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders framing muscular chests. With a cautious eye, Aishwarya studied them, paying close attention to the weapons strapped across their backs and affixed to the waists. The hilts of each weapon were filigreed in gold and scarlet, colours which matched the sashes which cut across their chests.
The Council Guard.
The guard on the right stepped forward, his pace precise, the sound of his feet striking the stone echoing through the predawn air. His dark eyes were fixed on Rakiin, the expression on his dark-skinned face completely unreadable. With a final click of his heels on the ground, he came to a stop before her brother. "Lord Rakiin?"
Rakiin was a tall man, but even he had to look up at the guard, annoyance crossing his face. "Yes?"
"You'll come with us, Sir. The Lady Morrigan wishes to see you."
"Very well." Rakiin turned to Aishwarya. "You'll see to the Commander, Sister?"
Aishwarya nodded, "Of course, Brother."
With a sharp acknowledgment, Rakiin followed the guards out of the courtyard, leaving Aishwarya alone with the Jem'Hadar and Madden. With a long sigh, she glanced around, taking in the buildings all around her. A deep sense of unease began to settle in her stomach, setting her nerves on edge. This place had once been home, her father's estate. She should feel safe here.
So why did she feel as though she was standing in a pit of vipers?
Shaking off her anxiety, she waved the guards forward, watching as they marched Madden's chamber into the estate. Resolutely, her head held high, she followed, guiding Jason Madden into hell.
-----
Rakiin stood inside the main hall of Morrigan's estate, a large building close to the centre of Fatalis. Ornate tapestries hung from the walls, their three story lengths reaching from floor to ceiling. Artwork from dozens of cultures stood proudly on display throughout the room, including a rare intact Kurlan Naiskos. His hands clutched behind his back, Rakiin absently examined the artefact, more for the sake of having something to do than out of any genuine interest. He could care less about the primitive carving, that was more Aishwarya's field. His interest in the carving was the same as that of the woman who owned it. Twenty-two years ago, Morrigan had killed Lord Victor and taken the Naiskos as a trophy, much as a hunter would mount the head of their prey on the wall. A small smirk touched Rakiin's lips as he remembered that day.
"Pleasant thoughts, Rakiin?"
Rakiin's smile turned grim as an old woman came into view, her body concealed by a dark, feathered cloak draped over her shoulders. Easily in her mid-hundreds, she moved slowly, as though each step filled her with great pain. A thick white braid fell down her back, tied with elaborate leather straps, while her right hand clutched a gnarled walking stick. Slowly, the Lady Morrigan approached, her green-eyed gaze as always cutting straight through him. "Remembering other times, My Lady." Bowing, Rakiin grasped her withered hand and lightly brushed his lips across it.
Pulling back her hand, the old woman turned and walked towards a chair, wearily settling into it. "I hear that you have returned home with a new acquisition, Rakiin." Damned spies. She had them everywhere. "A man from another reality. How fascinating."
Crossing his arms across his chest, Rakiin frowned. "I needed a new commander."
"Yes, yes. Poor Herma'Taklan. A shame that such... devotion... is to be wasted."
"I have plans for him."
"I would imagine you do. I taught you far too well for you to toss aside any resource."
A resource such as yourself, old woman. Rakiin thought, visions of the day in which he could finally be rid of Morrigan dancing through his mind. "I assume you summoned me here for a reason, My Lady. Some cause other than a simple... chat."
"So I did, Rakiin." Standing, Morrigan approached him, her hunched form forcing her to gaze up at him through slitted eyes. "I am sure that you have heard by now of the Khan's condition."
"I know that he is ill, possibly near death." Rakiin paused, "And what is such news to mean to me?"
Morrigan smiled, a hideous expression to his eyes. "Every member of the council knows of your ambitions."
"Every member of the council shares them." Rakiin settled into a chair facing her, a wry smile on his lips. "Such a shame that all of the Khan's children are dead. Perhaps that is what ails him. A broken heart."
Morrigan's eyes narrowed as she leaned forward, her hands clutched over the top of her cane. "Yes, it was tragic. Although how an antimatter bomb could have passed through the perimeter of the Khan's residences, killing all eight of his children and his wife, remains a mystery."
"Perhaps some mysteries will never be solved."
A snarl formed on Morrigan's lips. With a sudden movement, she rapped the bottom of her cane against the tiled floor, producing a ringing noise that sounded through the house. Instantly, a door on the far end of the room swung open, admitting a young woman who rushed to Morrigan's side. Rakiin examined her appreciatively as she bent over to conduct a hushed conversation with the old crone. She was in her mid to late twenties, a decade younger than himself at most, with a lithe figure, red hair spilling over her shoulders and across the simple black bodysuit she wore. A new acquisition for Morrigan's staff, he assumed. He had already met, and seduced, the majority of Morrigan's female servants. For him not to know that she had a new servant, and especially one this beautiful, was simply a sign of how long he had been away from Fatalis. No matter, he thought as the young woman rose to stand beside Morrigan, she'll be mine soon enough.
Morrigan noted his gaze. "Do you see something you like, Rakiin?" When Rakiin didn't answer immediately, she waved towards her servant. "She's yours. Moira?"
Moira curtsied and stepped across the floor to stand at Rakiin's side. Rakiin grinned, "Thank you, my Lady."
"I had already planned to give her to you. Now, to return to the business at hand…" Morrigan produced a small holo-emitter, it's small round surface glowing a brief gold as photons danced above it, resolving into a three-dimensional picture. Rakiin's eyes widened as he saw a tiny representation of himself, standing before a member of the Council Guard, a small antimatter bomb in one hand.
It is not to be seen, or heard. Do you understand?
The guard nodded, I understand. And my payment?
Your payment will be delivered on my ascension. The colony of Torgus II, yours to do with as you wish. Do we have an agreement?
Rakiin growled as he lunged for Morrigan, his hands reaching for the holo-emitter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of silver and suddenly there was a knife at his throat.
Moira stood behind him, her elegant features stretched in a grin as she casually held a small dagger against his jugular vein with just enough pressure to produce a single drop of blood on the otherwise stainless blade. With her free hand, Moira brushed a stray hair away from her eyes. "We'll have none of that, My Lord."
"Apparently not." Rakiin sat back down, one hand rising up to wipe away the small drop of blood staining his neck. As Morrigan cackled, Rakiin found that his opinion of Moira was actually increasing. "Quite the acquisition you have made here, Morrigan. Beautiful and deadly. An… interesting... combination." Leaning back into his chair, Rakiin studiously avoided looking at the holo-emitter. "But tell me, why would I bring home a gift that I know is as likely to slit my throat as share my bed?"
"Because you have no other choice." Morrigan turned the holo over in her hands, her old eyes fixed on it. "Assassination is nothing new, Rakiin. In our society, it is more than forgivable, it is often expected. A well-timed execution, and everyone benefits. The high rise higher, and the low are no longer quite so low. This is what it means to be Khanate, to achieve power through any means. Subordinates kill their superiors…" A glance. "Sons kill their fathers.
"And yet, an ill-timed assassination is not quite so easily forgiven. How unfortunate for you that the Khan had been called away from his residences that morning. Were it not for his sudden crippling illness, that handsome head of yours might no longer be attached to your shoulders."
Morrigan's insinuation rattled him, "You poisoned the Khan?" A shrug. "Why?"
"Not for you, my dear boy. Of course not. Rather, I did it for my own purposes." Morrigan tapped him with her cane. "We are going to come to an agreement, you and I."
"Blackmail." Rakiin scowled, "Almost as expected as assassination."
Moira laughed from behind him. "Perhaps there is more to you than looks, after all."
Rakiin tensed to strike her, but the memory of her speed with the knife flashed through his mind. "Quite the mouth for a serving girl." Moira shrugged, a grin twisting her lips. Rakiin turned back to Morrigan. "And what is this agreement you expect to make?"
"One which I am sure you will find to be most beneficial. I will place my forces at your disposal. I will do whatever I can to help you become Khan. You will have everything you ever desired."
"I'm not foolish enough to believe that none of this comes without a cost. What would you wish in return?"
Morrigan paused before continuing. "The throne."
Rakiin laughed. The old woman had finally, finally, gone insane. "The throne? Do you expect to become the power behind it?"
"In a manner of speaking. The merger of our forces will be... familial, as well as political."
A feeling of unease gripped Rakiin as he stared into the old woman's green eyes. He did not like the path that this discussion was following. "How do you mean, familial?"
"You will marry my granddaughter, merging our families and making her your queen."
"And why would I do that?"
"Because you're not a fool, Rakiin. As I said, an ill-timed assassination is not quite so easily forgiven. The Khan still has loyal supporters, who would be most displeased if evidence indicating your involvement with his family's death were to be revealed."
"And what of your involvement?"
"The word of a proven assassin against mine? I have nothing to fear or lose, while you on the other hand…" Morrigan raised a mocking eyebrow. "Need I continue?" Rakiin remained sullenly quiet, recognizing an unwinnable situation when he saw one. "Besides, this arrangement may not be as undesirable as you seem to believe."
As if on cue, Moira stepped away from Rakiin's side, coming to a stop at Morrigan's side. Twin pairs of bright emerald eyes watched him from across the room. Rakiin sighed, accepting that he had no choice in this matter. Standing, he took Moira's hand. "My Lady."
As Morrigan watched, Moira smiled and accepted it.
"Husband."
-----
With an annoyed scowl, Aiyal stepped away from the softly glowing observation table, moving back from the project that had occupied every second of his time since arriving three hours ago, his analysis complete.
Taking note of the darkly clad figure hovering at the edge of the room, partially hidden in the shadows, he frowned. Without moving out of the darkness, the figure spoke. "Your report, Doctor?"
"The damage is extensive. The energy from the pulse rifle blast went clean through the chest cavity, fusing his spine. Also, the stasis field was not exactly forgiving. There is significant neural degradation. His short-term memory has suffered extensive damage."
"Will he survive?"
Aiyal shook his head. "No. Not in this state. At this point, I believe that cloning and neural transduction is the only option."
Stepping out of the shadows, Aishwarya stared down at Jason Madden's broken body and again cursed herself for being weak.
"Do it."
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Stupid chapter. Had to enter it onto twice.