Imperial Intelligence Headquarters
Qo'noS, 2268
About to take the lift up to the thirtieth floor where his office was located, Meth stopped and turned back to face the secretary currently manning the reception desk. Any news, Liraq?"
An older woman who was not far from retirement, she had no particular fear of the Operations Master, who had always been polite when he spoke to her, maybe because she was old enough to remember him as a very junior officer. He'd been different person in those days - lively, mischievous, and with a wicked sense of humour, although even then there had been that faint aura of danger that warned people to treat him with respect. Age, the burden of high rank, and that awful shuttle accident had changed him beyond recognition.
"Councillor Gorkon called, my Lord," she informed him briskly. "He was very insistent on speaking to you, but I told him you were busy. You've got a parcel from the Inigan Estate; I think it's the sample you requested from this year's bottling. Anyway, I've put it in your office. Colonel Gretaq has called in to ask for emergency leave. Oh… and the courier ship has returned."
Meth took a moment to digest all that. Gorkon, he decided, could wait. His anger at the councillor had not yet cooled. Or rather, it had, the white-hot flames settling into a cold, bitter resentment. He did not respond well to insults – not to himself, and not to his trusted senior officers. Imperial Intelligence looked after its own and what Gorkon had done with regard to his security captain did not sit well with him. At some point there would be a reckoning. But not yet. Not today.
The delivery at least, was good news. If the new batch of bloodwine was as good as the Inigan line-lord claimed, and there was no reason why it shouldn't be after the long, hot summer they'd had last year, then he'd be placing a substantial order. As for Gretaq, he'd been expecting that call. His mate was overdue with their first child and no doubt, she'd finally gone into labour.
The final item on his secretary's list was the news he had been waiting for, and it was on this that he chose to focus his response. Courier ships came and went all the time, transporting messengers and diplomats from one place to another, carrying parcels and urgent cargo and delivering messages that could not be entrusted to the vagaries of subspace. Liraq, however, was not speaking of just any courier ship, but the one from Earth. "It took its time," he commented. "It was due two days ago. When did it arrive?"
"Just after midnight, sir."
Meth nodded. That was good; by now all the messages should have been downloaded. All communications from Earth went through Imperial Intelligence inspection before being released to their various recipients. The highly classified nature of the mission made that unfortunately necessary. Not that Meth read every message, there were far too many for that. Rather, they would be scanned by the computer system for certain key words and phrases that would then be flagged up for individual attention. The vast majority were innocuous, simple infractions on the part of soldiers writing home to their families, but just occasionally, he'd pick up an interesting piece of intelligence that the Defence Force had attempted to keep hidden… such as the illegal orders issued to Karg.
Meth pressed the button to summon the lift and to his pleased surprise, it opened immediately. That made a pleasant change, he thought wryly. He might be the supreme head of I.I. but even he couldn't make the lift get here any faster if it was twenty floors up. Stepping inside, he thought of something and turned back. "One last thing, Liraq. Organise a gift for the baby, would you? I am sure you know far better than me what is suitable."
"Yes, of course, sir."
His secretary's smile left him with the uncomfortable feeling that she thought he was going soft, but anything he might have said in response was lost as the lift doors closed behind him whisking him away and upwards towards his office. For once, there were no stops between the ground and thirtieth floors and in less time than usual, he was acknowledging the salutes of his guards as he entered his private office.
Liraq was right, he discovered. The messages had downloaded and were waiting for his approval. Setting the computer to scan, he opened up his own messages and as he'd expected, there was one from Krang. Shunting that one to the front of the queue, he pressed 'play' and settled down to listen.
"…must inform you that Colonel Karg is dead and has been replaced by Colonel Koreth, whom I have promoted to the rank of brigadier…"
Well, that was a bonus, Meth thought, allowing his lips to curl upwards in a faint smile. Not that it was a complete surprise, but he did wonder how it had taken so long. He'd been expecting news of a confrontation between Krang and Karg for some time now.
"… orders from the High Council are received and understood. Video footage is attached as proof of compliance…"
His good mood abruptly gone, the operations master frowned imperceptibly, fighting the urge to swear. He was not quite sure what it was that he had hoped for – delaying tactics, maybe. A message querying the veracity of the orders. Or even better, an outraged refusal. Anything but this meek compliance.
Under normal circumstances, the killing of three convicted prisoners would not have bothered him in the slightest. One of the most powerful men in the empire, with sole responsibility for the security of that empire, condemning a prisoner to death was nothing new to him and the video footage showed that these executions had been carried out in accordance with Klingon justice and tradition…. if, he thought with mounting anger, the killing of innocent scientists could be called justice.
Watching the video, he listened with half an ear as the names of the condemned men were read out. A quick check confirmed that all three names were on the list that Krang had been given. "Hu'tegh! guy'cha Gre'thor!" He cursed, using the foulest language that came to mind, and picking up the bottle of bloodwine, he threw it at the wall in a display of temper. Glass shattered satisfyingly, leaving a deep red stain spreading across the floor and wall. Later, once he'd calmed down, he'd be embarrassed about his loss of control, and thankful that he'd picked up the bottle of Opri he'd been given as a gift and not his final bottle of vintage Inigan. Right now, however, he didn't care about any of that.
Against all their hopes, Krang had taken his orders seriously and begun the executions. Khest it! Meth had thought he could rely on Krang… thought he'd trained him better than that... thought Krang was too honourable to carry out the mass executions of innocents, although he knew many officers would have done just that without even hesitating. He swore again and with a heavy heart, prepared to inform Gorkon that his plan had failed.
About to stop the playback, something caught his attention. Stopping the video, he rewound it and watched again, this time giving it his full attention. Yes, there it was. He had almost missed the faint flicker as the time stamp stuttered and for the tiniest fraction of a second, repeated itself.
Think like Krang, he reminded himself as he watched the footage for a third time. He knew his deputy well, had trained him and taught him everything he knew. What would he have done? Getting to work, Meth quickly discovered that he was right. The tiny stutter in the time stamp was not a glitch; the video had indeed been doctored.
His earlier anger gone, Meth's expression was one of grim satisfaction. Krang had not let them down. The message… and now that he knew, he could take the time to appreciate the careful wording that actually said nothing at all… was really a ploy to buy time. Time for what, Meth did not yet know, but it was enough to give him hope.
Correcting the error, he double checked his work to make sure it was undetectable before forwarding the video to Gorkon. Let the councillor worry about the success of his plan.
Klingon Headquarters, London
Saturday 5th February 1994
Unable to face eating with the family that morning, Krang had got up very early and careful not to wake Chrissie, had dressed and gone to work, stopping off at The Neutral Zone on the way, to get breakfast to go.
The previous night had been traumatic, to say the least. In hindsight, Krang reflected, he could have been kinder to Chrissie in the way he had broken the news. Not that there was any kind way of telling her that he was leaving her, that he could no longer fulfil any of the promises he had made to her and her children. He'd expected her to scream and shout, to hit him even. She had done none of those things. Instead, she'd somehow drawn in on herself, leaving him hating himself for the tears in her eyes and the hurt, wounded look on her face.
He'd wanted to make love to her last night, wanted in fact to spend every moment possible making love to her, creating beautiful memories that would carry him through to the end. There had been no sex, though. No glorious night of passion. Not that she had refused him, exactly, but somehow, he'd ended up spending the night lying awake just holding her and trying to ignore his body's need. To his surprise, he did not regret that in the slightest.
Sitting at his desk, taking the occasional bite from the large bacon sandwich Grapok had made for him, and finding that for all its tastiness, he was just not hungry, he stared at his computer screen as he attempted to write the words that would tear him away from everything he had come to love. Swearing under his breath and sternly telling himself to quit the self-indulgent pity party and just get on with it, he took little notice as the noise levels outside, in the main office rose, indicating change of shift.
Engrossed in what he was trying to do, Krang was caught by surprise as the door to his office unexpectedly swung open and Koreth stalked in. Irritated at both the interruption and the fact that his deputy had not bothered to knock, Krang looked up from his computer. Had Koreth not looked so grim, Krang might have allowed his annoyance to be replaced by amusement at the sight of him. The brigadier's face bore several fresh scratches and what looked suspiciously like teeth marks. Obviously, his night had turned out very much as he had hoped, and equally obviously, that was not what he had come to discuss.
Koreth was, he noted, dressed in his full armour, something he generally did not bother with, seeing it as unnecessary for office work. He was also heavily armed with both his d'k tahg and disruptor on prominent display. It did not bode well for a peaceful conclusion to their meeting, and sensing trouble, Krang tensed in readiness for a challenge to his authority. "NuqneH? What do you want, Koreth?"
"I have questions," the brigadier announced without preamble, moving into the office and shoving the door shut behind him. "I want to know why you had dinner last night with Captain James T. Kirk and a member of the Terran resistance."
"James T. Kirk?" Krang said carefully, not at all pleased by this development. He both liked and respected Koreth and the last thing he wanted was to have to kill him. "You are mistaken. I had dinner with the friend of my mate and her lover whose name is Jim. Chrissie wanted me to meet them."
Koreth scowled. "I am not accepting that as an answer. You forget that I spent much of my career fighting the Federation. The name James Kirk is known to me and so is his face."
"The name is a coincidence. As I understand it, James… or Jim… is a very common name on Earth."
"I overheard part of your conversation last night," Koreth growled, "and not all of it was about bloodwine. Stop lying to me, Krang, I want the truth. What is going on?"
Note: for the record, the language Meth uses is VERY rude, and while it doesn't translate well, means very loosely "F...! F...ing Hell!" Khest, on the other hand is not a tlhingan Hol word, it is Klingonaase, a commonly spoken dialect in the 23rd century. Safe to say, he wasn't in a good mood. (Klingonaase coming from John Ford's 'Final Reflection')
As always, a big thank you to my loyal fanfiction friends, JDC0 (welcome back), Solasnagreine and RobertBruceScott... and thanks guys for the very helpful conversations we had. And another thank you to my wonderful beta, Linny without whose help, patience and long, late night chats, much of this story would not exist.