Chapter Eight
"Good morning, Captain. I hope I didn't wake you?"
"Not at all, Admiral. We start the day shift at oh-eight hundred on Endeavour. What can I do for you?"
The friendly face of Admiral McCaffrey filled the bridge view screen. As commander of Starfleet's operations in the sector, McCaffrey was a busy individual, but he rarely gave the impression of being so. He was perpetually composed; the sort of admiral that Drake hoped he would be when he received that longed for step. "I know that you're under orders to transport Diplomat Harrow and General Kravft to Klingon space as quickly as possible, but I'm afraid you're going to have to deviate from your course."
"Sir?"
The admiral folded his hands on his expensive desk. "We've lost contact with the Herminie colony, a small outpost in your sector. They stopped transmitting halfway through a routine communication last week, and since then we haven't been able to raise them at all. A probe has done a long-range fly-by, but it didn't find anything. Your orders are to divert to Herminie, find out what's going on, and lend them any aid they might require."
Drake leant over Wolf's shoulder, and on her navigation board he could see their current course and the location of the planet. It was no small distance out of their way, but the ship had been proceeding at relatively low warp and so long as the problem took no more than a couple of days to solve they could make up the lost time.
"Understood, Admiral."
"Probably nothing more sinister than a broken subspace radio," the admiral said with a shrug in his voice, "but they're Federation citizens and we're obliged to look into the matter. Shouldn't take you more than a day or so."
"I hope not, sir."
"McCaffrey out."
"Alix, change course and accelerate to seven point five. Commander McDonald, have Mr. Harrow and General Kravft assemble in conference room one. I'll let them know of the change to our orders."
Harrow perfectly understood the importance of the diversion, and he urged the captain to devote as much time as was necessary to solving the people of Herminie's problem. The general, on the other hand, was a little less reasonable. He had understood that this was a priority assignment, that he would be carried to In'jara'wa at best possible speed. There were urgent matters to be discussed, matters that required his presence in the High Council.
The captain listened patiently to his little speech and then said reasonably, "I fully understand. I don't imagine that this detour will take more than a day. If we then run at warp nine we'll still get you to In'jara'wa on time."
"Can this ship do that?" Harrow asked. "Warp nine is frighteningly fast. I thought only the newest ships could manage it."
Drake felt a bit of a stab at the mention of 'newest ships' but he resolved not to let it show. "It'll be a bit of a strain on the engines, but Endeavour has flown faster, and for longer periods than we're talking about here."
The promise mollified Kravft and he went away feeling contented. Drake returned to the bridge, hoping with all his heart that Herminie would take no longer than he had said.
It wouldn't, but for reasons other than the ones Drake was considering.
From the moment they entered orbit it became apparent that something was terribly wrong on the planet. No greeting hail met the ship, even after she had settled into geosynchronous orbit above the main colony site and sent down several hails of her own. A broken transmitter could not account for the planet's complete silence, as a standard hand unit could reach a ship in orbit. Someone should have answered.
"This doesn't feel right," Drake muttered, observing the planet on the screen, apparently stationary for the Endeavour was moving at the same speed as the world's rotation.
"It feels very wrong," was Alix's opinion, and to Kana she asked: "What are you sensing?"
The Destroyer looked troubled, and all that she would say to Alix was, "You had better harden your heart and prepare for the worst."
"Still no response to hails?"
"No, sir," said McDonald, the communications officer as well as Number One. She was working her boards, scanning for even the faintest signal, but all of the subspace bands remained utterly silent. Not so much as a whisper.
"Damned peculiar." He considered for a moment more. "Yellow alert. Landing party. Lieutenant Wolf and four of your men, with me."
"Will," cried Alix, leaping to her feet. He stopped and turned back, seeing fear and misery on his friend's face. "You might need me."
Drake nodded – Alix was worth a dozen crewmen in any dire situation. "Three men, Wolf. Let's find out what's happened here."
They didn't have to wait very long to find out. The moment they materialized from the transporter beams it became perfectly clear. The odour of rancid flesh assaulted the landing party's noses the instant the beams shut down; all around them there was blood, staining everything like a coat of badly laid paint. Bodies were slumped in the colony's streets, still lying where they had fallen. Hundreds of bodies. The stench was beyond belief.
Alix Nain had stood on battlefields before, she had stood amongst slaughtered armies, ankle deep in blood, no one but the dead to keep her company; even those experiences did not prepare her for this. Then the dead had been soldiers, people who had known the risks, who had gone off to fight knowing that they would probably die. No one on Herminie had been a soldier. These people had been simple farmers, building a new life for themselves on a pristine world. They had come without weapons, knowing that none would be needed on this peaceful planet. When death had come for them, they hadn't even had the ability to fight back.
She wandered in a daze amongst the wreckage of the colony. Dimly she was aware of Wolf organizing her people into search groups, of Drake hailing the ship to send down additional landing parties, but these things were background noise to her. She walked amongst the dead, staring at each and every body in turn. She had seen and caused so much death in her life that she had thought it incapable of affecting her anymore, but how wrong she had been. Amongst the gutted remains of a house she found the mangled body of a little girl, her chest cleaved open by a powerful blow. She looked so peaceful, her eyes closed, her face expressionless. She might have been sleeping, if it weren't for the blood and her icy skin.
Alix fell down onto her knees and cradled the dead child in her arms, weeping uncontrollably. She had never seen a dead child before, had never wanted to, and the sight of it shocked her to her core.
"No. She was so young. She hadn't even lived!"
Kana Nain watched her host's grief in silence. She did not share her counterpart's feelings, but she understood Alix's pain and she respected it. She looked away and saw two more groups of Starfleet personnel beam down from the ship – six security officers, six medics. The humans still hoped of finding survivors, but Kana knew that to be a futile hope.
"Just a child," wept Alix, oblivious.
"Alix, let me have control."
Her host didn't hear a word that she said. She pulled the dead child closer to her and cried into its bloody hair, unaware of the world around her. For a long time she was incapable of doing anything but crying and feeling pain. Slowly, very slowly, she began to regain some of her control. "Just a child, Kana. She was just a child. So much potential… Who would do something like this?"
"Please, Alix, let me have control."
"Kana…"
"You're in no state to do anything, Alix, and the crew needs us. Let me take over."
The Change came, but it was more difficult than usual, Alix's grief-stricken mind refusing to let go at first, resisting the Change. Eventually Kana felt the heat rush through her being, felt the sensations of being physical, but for once they brought her no pleasure. Slaughter like this meant nothing to Kana, but her host's grief did. Kana loved Alix as she never had anyone before, and to see her so unhappy deeply affected the Destroyer. She gently lay the poor deceased child down amongst the wreckage of her former home and went in search of Drake.
"Spread out," the captain was calling. "Tricorders on maximum sensitivity. Report any signs of life to myself or Lieutenant Wolf."
"They won't find any."
"You've been crying, Alix."
Kana wiped at her face, still damp from the tears her host had shed. "Yes. There are no survivors to be found. I'm sorry, Will."
"No one?" Alix gasped. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I can sense no life here. Everyone is dead. It's better that way."
"That is the most monstrous thing you have ever said!"
"No, Alix, it's not!" She snapped back. "It's one of the kindest. Think. Would you want to be a survivor? Would you want to live with the memory of what happened here? I know you have nightmares – think of this one. It's better that there were no survivors."
"We'll keep looking," said Drake firmly. He didn't believe his old friend – didn't want to believe her. Someone had to have escaped this butchery.
"Of course. May I share an observation with you, Will?"
"What is it?"
"This was the work of Klingons."
Her accusation shocked the captain. "That can't be. The Klingons are our allies – our friends."
"Nevertheless." She walked amongst the corpses, gesturing as she spoke. "This gash is the result of a powerful impact from a mek'leth sword, this head was decapitated by a bat'leth, and notice the three puncture wounds here, all perfectly in line and the same distance apart, one much bigger than the other two, the result of a d'k'tagh dagger. The evidence is right at your feet, Captain."
"Alix!"
"I'm sorry – bad choice of words. Order Kravft down here. He can confirm what I've said."
The general arrived some minutes later. "What happened here?"
"A massacre," said Kana Nain, greeting him with a belligerent stare. "These people were slaughtered by Klingons."
"Impossible! Klingons do not attack defenceless outposts! It is butchery. It is without honour. The very accusation is an outrage!"
"Inspect the bodies, General. Look at the wounds they have received. See the effects of Klingon steel on human flesh." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Speak that way to me again, and join the fallen."
Kravft had never felt so afraid as when he heard those words, saw the death in Nain's red eyes. He obeyed her instructions and examined the dead. Their wounds were only too familiar to a man who had fought as often as he had.
"Well?"
"These wounds were caused by Klingon blades. But no Klingon would do this! To kill defenceless women and children…it is without honour! It would be to cast one's soul to the Fek'lhr. It is…" Rage choked his throat and words failed him.
Kana stood right next to him, her eyes drilling into him, showing no mercy. "It was Klingons. Klingons destroyed these people. Klingons watered this ground with blood. You know it."
The general's great head dipped in acknowledgement of the truth.
Drake exploded. "We're supposed to be allies! Working together for a better future! We've given your people aid, saved you from extinction! And this is how you repay us? With this bloodbath!"
"It wasn't the Empire, Will."
Now neither Drake nor Kravft had any idea what was going on. "But you just said – "
"I said Klingons! The High Council and the Empire had nothing to do with this. They wouldn't be so foolish."
"What makes you so sure?"
She simply looked at him and said, "Trust me."
He did, utterly instinctively, as did anyone else within earshot. The words had not been a suggestion but an order, and it was one that could not be disobeyed. Kana had immense natural authority.
"The Empire wouldn't leave behind people to monitor, to wait for us to come and see our reaction to their massacre."
"What?"
"In the mountains behind us. Don't look, Will! In those mountains is an observation post. We're being watched."
"How can you be sure? Tricorder doesn't detect anything. Minerals in the rocks are scattering the scan."
"I can sense it."
Kana looked up at the sky. A storm was blowing in from the west, dark purple clouds, heavy with rain and the threat of lightning. Discretely, she fed power into the storm, accelerating it and building its rage. It would strike the mountains in a few more hours, right when she wanted it to.
"Keep the others working normally, Will. I'm going to cut up into the mountains; check my hunch."
"I will accompany you."
"No, General, you won't."
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Kana Nain scaled the mountain face, moving with a speed and ease that no human could have possibly matched. She could have travelled faster still, using her power to teleport instantaneously to the Klingon camp, but she didn't. She needed to take her time getting to her destination, otherwise people would be suspicious. She also had to wait for the storm to hit. The storm would hide her exotic powers from the landing party's tricorders, and the sensors on the orbiting starship. Kana was going to dish out justice Destroyer style.
Long before she reached her destination roaring winds and driving rain began to batter the mountain, slowing her progress to a crawl. The rain was by far the worst, falling so hard and so fast that it was an almost solid sheet of freezing water that struck Kana right in the face every time she tried to take a step, making breathing difficult and progress nearly impossible. For a few more minutes she tried pressing on into the wind, before patience deserted her. "To hell with this!"
Kana materialized from a blinding flash of red light in the centre of the Klingon encampment, and it was definitely Kana that appeared, she having manipulated the physical appearance of her host's body to match her own. So it was with a glowing-eyed stare and a flash of fangs that she greeted the surprised Klingons, her long red cape flying about wildly in the storm winds despite being heavily soaked through.
One of the Klingons barked something that Kana couldn't make out, but the meaning of which became immediately clear. Disruptors were levelled and erupted into a great barrage of spitting fire. Blast after blast of deadly green energy poured into and through Kana, her body as insubstantial as a cloud of smoke. She stood there with her arms folded, wondering how long it would take the Klingons to realize that they were incapable of doing her any harm. Would they work it out at all, or would their power packs run out first?
She decided not to bother waiting to find out, and launched an attack of her own. A deafening roar of thunder erupted directly overhead and a shaft of brilliant white lightning struck her foes, putting an end to their capers.
The remaining Klingons attacked en mass, but they had no chance at all of defeating a foe as powerful as Kana. Her power was limited only by her imagination, and when it came to ways of killing things, Kana's imagination was pretty much infinite. Optimistic fools with knives or swords found their blades leaping from their hands and plunging into their own hearts, disruptor bolts flew from gun barrels, only to curve back and strike their firers. Kana conjured a globe of energy and hurled it like a baseball into one group of Klingons, the orb exploding like a grenade and shredding their bodies. One Klingon managed to sneak around behind her, and might have been able to get a slice at her spine (a futile move anyway) if only he hadn't roared out a challenge at the last possible second. Kana spun around, fast as a flash, and held out her hand. The man paused in mid-lunge, hovering in the air for a fraction of a second, before every cell in his body flew apart in completely different directions. It created a horrible, bloody mess; Kana was utterly delighted.
The slaughter continued, and despite the obvious hopelessness of their situation the Klingons continued to fight dutifully. They were cut down mercilessly by the Destroyer, who struck with her terrible powers again and again, until only one Klingon was left standing – the same man who had first ordered the attack on her. Overhead, the storm was nearly spent, the rain had died away entirely and the wind had settled down to a much less raging blow.
Kana strode through the devastation, grabbed the stunned Klingon by the front of his leather armour and pushed him to the edge of the mountain. She held him over the long plunge down into the colony he had helped destroy and simply stared at him, her red eyes burrowing into his, reading his every thought, his every reaction. He was terrified, utterly terrified. Not of dying, for no Klingon was, but of what waited for him beyond this life. He knew what he had done on Herminie, he had had no time to redeem himself since, and he knew that the gates of Sto'Vo'Kor were forever closed to him.
She brought about the Change, relinquishing control to her human host and stepping away. "Your prisoner. Do with him as you will."
It was Alix's turn to stare the Klingon in the eyes, to see the tremendous fear in him, further increased by the sudden change in the appearance of his captor. She thought of the atrocities that this Klingon had committed. Thought of the little girl whom she had seen dead in the village. She had no way of telling who had killed her, and perhaps that person was already dead or perhaps he wasn't even here, but she decided that this Klingon could take the blame.
Kana's evil was a rage, a tremendous heat; Alix's was arctic. Every trace of passion, every iota of human feeling left her in an instant, and the Klingon found himself looking into eyes as cold and merciless as the depths of space. He knew immediately that there was no future for him, and he was not to be surprised.
"Gre-Thor awaits you," Alix informed him, and then she let go.
It was wrong, but it felt so right, and at that moment that was all that mattered to her. She turned away from the edge and began to search the bodies of the fallen, looking for anything that might give her a clue as to who these Klingons were. Unsurprisingly, she found nothing. There were no house markings on their uniforms or weapons, nothing that would distinguish them.
Her cold, practical mind saw the logic in this. Someone out there didn't want peace with the Federation. There were a lot of Klingons who still thought that the peace treaty was a bad idea; whoever this one was, he was prepared to go one step further. This attack on Herminie demanded a response, and as soon as Starfleet acted those militant Klingons would come forward and decry the Federation's unprovoked actions. They would loudly proclaim that there had been no incident on Herminie, that no Klingon would ever act so dishonourably, and with Starfleet possessing no greater proof than some Klingon corpses (which could have come from anywhere – could even have been arranged to support Starfleet's action) they would be believed. It was clever, she acknowledged, and it occurred to her that throwing the only survivor to his death might, retrospectively, have been a mistake.
A low moan reached her ears and Alix hunted for the source of the sound. It was a wounded Klingon, one of the ones whose knife Kana had turned against its owner. In this instance her aim had been slightly off, and while the blade was buried hilt-deep into the Klingon's chest it had not caused a mortal wound – Klingon bodies being remarkably resistant to injury, possessing multiple redundancies in their biological systems, allowing them to shrug off injuries that would incapacitate lesser species.
Alix crouched down beside him and slowly wrapped her fingers around the dagger's hilt. "I imagine you're in a lot of pain. If I twist this blade, you will die. Is that what you want?"
Mutely, the Klingon nodded.
"Tough."
She pulled the Klingon to his feet and marched him down the mountain.
