The Hour of The Wolf
Chapter Eighteen

K'Ehleyr sighed, she hated waiting. Captain Picard had indeed received the Enterprise's transmission and said he was on his way. From where or what he was doing there she still didn't know. Even the Enterprise crew were keeping silent about it. She didn't even know how long it was going to take for him to get here. K'Ehleyr's best bet for getting anything like that would have been to talk to Worf.

That wasn't going to happen any time soon.

He was still angry, using every excuse to avoid her and wasn't doing a good job of hiding it. It shouldn't have taken this long to run a standard check on a ships defensive systems. Unless counting photon torpedoes by hand was standard procedure for security chiefs.

She'd decided the best thing was to stay out of his way and let him come to terms with Alexander on his own. She knew family was important to her love, even more so than most Klingons and it was only a matter of time before he came around. As difficult as it was she'd left her son on board the Enterprise. Her responsibilities as Ambassador meant she couldn't spend as much time with him as she wanted. Deanna had promised to keep an eye on him and to talk with Worf about it. K'Ehleyr didn't hold much hope for the latter.

Right now, instead of playing with her son, she was in a cramped shuttle bay on the Vor'Cha. Waiting for Captain Picard to arrive with Riker and a couple of his security officers beside her, as well as a handful of hulking Klingon Warriors. The new Captain been strong armed into bringing his guards at the insistence of his second in command. Something K'Ehleyr found amusing, because Riker was a tall man. Taller than his security. If something did go wrong he'd fair better in a struggle than them.

Without warning an alarm called out and the force field at the far end of the bay snapped on. After a moment the hanger doors opened and she could look out in front of the ship. Ahead she could see the forward prongs of the main disrupter banks and then the approaching shuttle flew in. It came in at an angle, avoiding the main weapons and turned to face them.

It didn't look like a Federation shuttle, or any she'd seen. It was a lot larger than most and made up of sharp angles. More like a cargo hauler than a personal transport. It had what looked like two decks, with a raised forward cabin at the front. It's engines were a lot bigger than she would have expected too, almost so that they looked primitive. Even compared to Klingon thrusters. There were also visible sensor dishes on top and spindly little landing legs underneath.

K'Ehleyr was honestly worried that the pilot would have difficulty landing in the small Shuttle bay and was surprised as it landed gently. Looking at it again K'Ehleyr realised the strangest thing of all was that it didn't seem to have any warp nacelles. She frowned, remembering the cryptic talk about Colonial drives back on the Enterprise. For a moment the shuttle stood there, venting what looked like steam, before the door on the side opened.

As soon as the hatch was fully open two men jumped out. They looked remarkably human, but going by the uniforms they weren't part of the Federation. They wore tan suits under oversized dark brown jackets that had large silver buckles on them. They were armed with some sort of large gun, holstered to their legs. Their hands hovering over the handle as if waiting for an excuse to draw them. Then she looked at the faces, they were watching the hanger with a cool professional calm. It was the same look Klingons had when they entered a room. Evaluating, ready for an attack. Picking out and categorising threats.

She watched as their hands hovered over the weapons, still and steady. With a shock K'Ehleyr realised this wasn't an act, it wasn't something they were putting on for the Klingon's benefit. These people were warriors too and knew what they were doing.

Then out came Captain Picard. He wasn't in Starfleet uniform either, instead he wore long white and cream robes. They looked almost ceremonial, made up of different layers of roughly woven yet light cloth. As if meant for the desert. Threaded into the robes was a pattern of gold and silver squares that ran under his neck and down his arms. 'Its alright, remember what I told you, Klingons will respect you if you respect them.' he told the two men but they didn't relax.

K'Ehleyr saw some of the Klingons getting belligerent and took a few steps forward, hoping this wasn't going to get nasty. 'Captain Picard, good to see you again.'

I'm retired for Starfleet Ambassador. At least unofficially. What is it I can do for you?'

'Not me, Chancellor K'mpec is on board. It's he that want's to see you. As soon as possible.'

Picard looked at her, 'This is important. Let me introduce Troy and Dillon, they're here at the instance of their commander as my guard. I tried to tell them it wasn't necessary but…'

'As a member of the newly formed Council of Thirteen Sire Jean-Luc requires an honour detail.' the dark haired human announced.

'Council?' she asked not sure what he meant by that.

Picard waved her question of. 'Never mind, it's not important right now and you did say as soon as possible.'

Walking down the corridors of the Klingon Flagship Jean-Luc tried not to let his feelings show. Last time he met with the Klingon High Chancellor K'mpec had all but admitted the Klingon Empire was rotten to the core. Now he was here, walking a delicate knifes edge of diplomacy.

After a long discussion the Council of the Twelve had decided to accept him as the representative of the Thirteenth Tribe. At first all he wanted was to be part of the Diplomatic mission but both Ambassador Spock and Commander Adama had convinced him otherwise. While it meant Spock took a back seat in negotiations it also kept him from the day to day decisions that the Council busied itself with.

These days that seemed to be micro-managing the construction plans for New Eden, pouring over redundant reports on recent mining expeditions and endless requests for more supplies from the Federation. In some ways this was a holiday, in others he was meeting with the head of another government. One that by all accounts was teetering on the brink of collapse.

His former first officer stepped up beside him. 'Number One.' he nodded

'Captain… Jean-Luc' Will nodded back. 'Good to see you again.'

'A lot sooner than I expected, but it's still been too long. How's the crew holding up?'

'As ever sir, There is something with Worf, but I'm sure it will sort itself out.'

Jean-Luc understood. 'His dishonour shames him, don't let him accept that. Keep pushing him Will.'

'Yes sir. But that's not all.' He cast a glance at their guide, Ambassador K'Ehleyr, who was doing a very bad job of not over hearing. 'I'll fill you in later.'

'The Captain is referring to my son.' She said promptly, 'But this is not the time to talk about it.'

Jean-Luc didn't have to be Dixon Hill to guess why Worf would have discomfort regarding his lover's son. 'Congratulations Ambassador. I'm sure you make a fine mother.'

She stopped and looked at him for a moment. 'Thank you.' She sounded genuinely surprised for a moment. 'Just this way.'

After a couple more turns and one huge set of bulkhead doors she stopped. 'K'mpec's inside, I'm afraid your escort are going to have to wait here. So are we Captain. The High Chancellor wants to meet with Picard alone.'

Jean-Luc could tell both Troy and Dillon didn't like the idea, but would respect their customs. He'd warned them that Klingons didn't take well to disrespect and responded to challenges promptly. 'Then I meet with him alone.' Jean-Luc agreed and headed inside.

The room was spacious, with that low ceiling Klingons preferred, but walking in felt like he was entering a mausoleum. The walls were decorated with pelts, ancient weapons and heavy shields. Bulky chairs were scattered across the open space, but nothing could hide the smell. It was as if the High Chancellor had locked himself away in here for a decade already. The hot, humid air was heavy with the smell of sweat and stale blood wine. 'K'mpec?'

'Ahh Picard, at last.' Jean-Luc hadn't seen him at first in the low light, the High Chancellor was even fatter, his armour stretched tightly across his paunch and his voice was weak. Empty and tired. Slowly the vast Klingon stumbled to his feet, out of the collapsing chair. He waved to the seat next to his. 'Sit down. I would offer you a drink, but it would be wise to refuse.' he wheezed as he lurched to a half empty barrel.

Remembering his manners Jean-Luc accepted the chair and watched the old man. 'You are dying K'mpec.'

'Nothing new there Picard. A Klingon is destined to die from the moment he is born. Be it in battle, through age or his own stupidity.'

'In that way we are the same.' he reminded his host.

K'mpec chuckled, a sound that became a wet cough at the end. 'When I die the Empire will collapse. The next Klingon Civil War will begin.'

'I take it you've sought medical help? The Enterprise has some of the best facilities of their kind.'

'There is nothing they or anyone can do. For the past several months I have been poisoned. Small quantities of Veridum 6.' He raised his goblet. 'In the wine. The damage is already done. There is no cure.'

Jean-Luc could only look helplessly at the High Chancellor. 'I'm sorry to hear that.' He admitted. For a Klingon there was no honour in dying of old age, but no dishonour either. To die from poisoning was another thing entirely.

After another wet cough K'mpec smirked, 'Not as sorry as I.' He took a couple of moments to catch his breath. 'When I die I want you to serve as my Arbiter of Succession.'

'What?'

'There is no one else I can trust, you however are a renowned diplomat. A passionate speaker and you know well the price of honour. Your words during Worf's challenge still ring in my ears.'

'I'm… Not even a Federation Officer anymore. Not technically. I serve another council, the political ramifications…'

'Are nothing! Nothing compared to refusing the dying wish of a High Chancellor!' For a moment he sounded like the man Jean-Luc remembered. 'You are mistaken. I am not asking you to chose, the rights and traditions decide who will lead the Council. I am asking you to find which of the two great houses killed me.' K'mpec gasped again and deliberately put his goblet to one side. 'Hear me now Picard. A war is coming, not just between Klingons but between the Empire and your Federation. It is only a matter of time. The old ways are too strong you see.'

'K'mpec, I have to warn you. A war with the Federation would be devastating. Whomever wins, both will lose in the long run.'

'I know. I have known for decades, but that won't stop my people. What you will do, what you must do is find who poisoned me. Such a man has no honour, no respect for his enemies. Such a man would be capable of anything! That man must not be allowed to lead the Empire. Be it Gowron, or Duras.'

'Duras.' Jean-Luc echoed.

'Yes, his power and influence has continued grow. Despite efforts of myself and others. Only Gowron, an outsider to the Council, has the strength to oppose him now.'

'Surely this is a conflict of interest.' Jean-Luc pointed out. 'Duras tried to have both Worf and myself killed to hide his father's crimes.'

'You know the value of that interest and you have honour enough not to let that cloud your judgement. Besides, it's too late. I've already sent the message. They are on their way here.'

Jean-Luc stood up, thinking fast. 'As long as it is understood I do this as a private citizen. Independent of the Federation and all others.'

K'mpec looked at him seriously. Picking up his goblet again he raised it in salute. Saying 'Qapla'!' just before throwing the bloodwine down his throat.

With a final, terminal sigh the High Chancellor slumped in the seat. He would never move again.

Ben tapped the door controls and entered the habitation module. The temporary shelters had been delivered weeks earlier and were standard features on colony worlds. Easy to set up, they were little more than containers with windows and beds inside. There were small bathrooms but nothing fancy. You had less space in one of them than most ships quarters and while Federation officers like himself were beginning to grumble Colonials thought they were the next best thing to paradise.

Because he had Jennifer and Jake his hab was actually two attached to each other. While they, in theory, could support four people he used his position to pull it off. There were more on the way, with the Akira and a couple of old Constellation class ships bringing supplies. That meant others would be expanded on soon, but for now he used the extra space as his office. 'Dad!' Jake ran up to him 'Dad! Mom's got a job!'

'What?' Ben asked. Since arriving on New Kolbol Jennifer had been looking for some way to help. It had been a long recovery for her after the Saratoga, with resources stretched the way they were she's been stubborn. Insisting there were others that needed the supplies more than her.

'Welcome home Ben.' Jennifer stepped out of the fresher, drying her hands. 'I've got a meal ready for us. Ration supplies, but I was able to get something for desert.'

'You always do.' he told her before giving her a kiss. He was the chief in the family, as much as he loved her she was no cook. 'What's this about a job, I thought you already had one?'

'Nothing anyone couldn't do handing out blankets and food packs. Besides we're having to ration them now.'

'Ration?'

'Something to do with the replicators being used for something else and not enough of them.' She told him. 'I was going to ask…'

Ben winced, 'We got a report a couple of the industrial Replicators broke down. There's a full team on them, but we were told there was enough supplies. I'll look into it.' He promised. 'The job?'

'Teaching. Jake was telling some of the children about the Federation and Earth and I offered to help. One thing led to another and I'm teaching galactic history on the schooling ship now.'

'That's fantastic.' Ben beamed. 'But wouldn't it be difficult to shuttle between here and the Ship?' It hadn't taken long for them to realise Colonials didn't trust Transporters, preferring to shuttle everywhere. Going as far as outright refusing to have transporters installed on most ships. Only the Galactica and Pegasus had them at the moment and they were only used by Starfleet personnel. It was a little inconvenient, but not too much.

She shook her head. 'They're landing it on the other side of the camps, along with a few others. Apparently it's taken them a while to get some repairs finished, but they're ready to start landing.'

Ben laughed. 'I've been so busy keeping track of our problems I hadn't heard.' That wasn't true, he knew they were planing on landing but had no idea they were that close. 'I'll have a word with Tigh. Catch up on things.'

'Invite him over for dinner.' Jennifer suggested.

'What?'

'Well it won't hurt, give how busy you both seem to be. Besides you've become good friends haven't you, I'd like to meet him.' Ben blinked, she was right. In all the time they'd worked together he'd never introduced his family.

'Alright, I'll invite him down.' He agreed.

Jennifer smiled at him, 'Just one condition. You cook.'

He laughed, not only couldn't she cook Jennifer hated proving it. 'Of course.'

Will sat in the Ready Room with his former captain and Ambassador K'Ehleyr. 'With K'mpec's death there is a power vacuum. He asked me to be his Arbiter of Succession.' Jean-Luc told him

'And what does that mean?' He asked, not sure he wanted the answer.

'Ambassador?' The former Captain turned to the half Klingon in the room.

'It means, Picard, you are in a lot of trouble!' She told him. 'Basically an Arbiter is there to just make sure all the rules are adhered to. When two or more people are in line for a title their job is to see who has the better claim. Usually it's when at the head of a house has died and there's no straight line of inheritance. The role is almost never called on in this situation'

'So why use it now? How is a new high chancellor normally chosen?' K'Ehleyr sat back on the little sofa by the door and frowned. 'Normally the choice is made through unanimous vote. The heads of the great houses meet, drink, argue. After a while they decide, one way or another, on a suitable candidate. Its up to them to accept and try to prove their worth or not. The problem here is both Gowron and Duras are so liked… Maybe that's the wrong word, so supported that there's no clear winner.'

'Hence civil war.' Jean-Luc finished, 'So it's my job to pick a name out of a hat?'

She shook her head. 'Nothing so random. According to the rules, after they arrive there's a brief ceremony, where they confirm K'mepc's dead, then both challengers present their case and the Arbiter decides.'

'That's it?' Will asked. 'I would have thought there'd be something more.'

'That's it, according to the modern practice all they have to do is present themselves.' She shrugged

Jean-Luc frowned, 'You said modern practice, does that mean there's a more traditional procedure.'

'Well there is the ja'chuq.' She didn't sound too sure. 'In the past each challenger had to prove his right to lead. List the various victories and challenges they'd won. The usual posturing. These days their name alone should be enough. Why?'

'Because I think it might be best if we do this slowly. Follow tradition. After all it is a unique situation. I wouldn't want to be accused of rushing into something.' he told her.

She gave him an evaluating look. 'You know something, don't you?' she asked.

'Yes I do.' Jean-Luc looked at them both. ' Number One, please ask Mr Worf to join us.'

Will frowned but gave the order. After a few minutes Worf entered. His face a barely disguised thundercloud as he refused to look at the Ambassador.

'This goes no further than those of us here.' Jean-Luc said seriously. 'K'mpec's death was not natural. He was poisoned.'

Will sat bolt upright in his seat while Worf's jaw almost dropped. 'Are you sure?' asked K'Ehleyr.

'He was. He was also certain it was either Gowron or Duras that was responsible.'

'Duras.' Worf growled, turning away to glare at the fish.

Jean-Luc saw this and shook his head. 'We have to find out who. Number One, could I prevail on you for the use of the Enterprise as neutral ground during the ceremonies?'

'Of course.' Will agreed without a seconds thought.

'And if I can request Mr Worf attempts to discover what he can about the culprit.'

'With respect; We already know who was responsible.' Worf snapped, facing them once again. 'It must be Duras.'

'We can't jump to any conclusions, Mr Worf.' Jean-Luc warned him.

K'Ehleyr on the other hand looked confused, 'How can you be so sure Worf?'

'Let's just say we've had dealings with Duras in the past.' The former Captain said diplomatically as Will remembered where he'd heard the name before.

'Mr Worf, before we go accusing someone of something like this we'd need evidence. See what you can do.' Will told him

'Captain, sir, My status in Klingon society…'

Will held a hand up. 'Have Data and Geordi assist you.'

'And Mr Worf, don't draw any personal conclusions without proof.'

K'Ehleyr tried to catch up with Worf, but he was just too fast. The turbo lift doors closed before she reached them. This news about K'mpec's fate and Worf's history meant things were even more complicated than she thought at first.

Tapping the button to summon another lift she waited. She needed time to think. When the lift arrived she paused. Instead of following Worf she headed to her quarters. It was a surprise when she found Deanna and her son was already there. 'Alexander.' she knelt down. 'What are you doing here, school finish already?'

'Uh huh.' he nodded.

'And did you learn anything new?'

'Vulcans don't laugh.' he said proudly.

K'Ehleyr smiled, 'No, they don't! Tell you what, why don't you go and play. Okay?' He nodded enthusiastically and ran to the room he'd been given.

'He's a good boy, a little excitable, but a good boy.' Deanna told him.

'He takes after his father that way.' K'Ehleyr admitted. 'Deanna, what is going on? With Worf? With Captain Picard? Everything. I need to know.'

'With Worf, you know as much as I do I guess. The Captain… the captain's working things out. During the Borg attack he was kidnapped by them. We were able to rescue him after the Borg were defeated, but he decided to take some leave to work with… A race we recently made contact with.'

'The people that he came here with?' K'Ehleyr asked, some of the pieces fitting together.

'Yes, they're refugees.' she said with obvious care.

K'Ehleyr wasn't listening, she was too busy thinking. 'The Borg and a new race. These refugees, they were the ones that defeated the Borg aren't they?'

'Err, I can't say.' the councillor suddenly looked uncomfortable, but suddenly a lot of things made sense. At last.

'The Borg sent one ship, rumour is they were over-confidant and the Federation panicked too easily. That isn't what happened is it, I've seen the early reports. The Borg destroyed whole colonies on the Federation Romulan boarder without trying. They knew enough about the Federation, they wouldn't underestimate us that badly. It's the only thing that makes sense, your new friends took them out'

'K'Ehleyr, if anyone knew just what happened. The Romulans, Cardassians, even the Klingons might not understand. They might see the Colonials as a threat. Truth is they're not. Their civilisation was all but destroyed. They're just looking for a home.'

'It's not a problem Councillor I get it.' She told her looking back to her son's room. 'Besides if you're right telling people is the fastest way to a war I can think of. I'll do everything I can to stop him growing up into that galaxy, a galaxy of war.'

End Chapter Eighteen