Thursday 20th February 2375

The two ships escorting the Orinoco got lucky. Almost two weeks into their painfully slow journey back to Federation space, they encountered a convoy of freighters, heavily guarded by a fleet of Klingon ships and were able to hand over responsibility for the damaged vessel to the commander of the leading attack-cruiser.

General Talak was an older man, tall and rather overweight with a liberal dash of grey in his hair and beard. His appearance had been marred by years of overindulging in blood-wine and gagh, but he was still a formidable warrior and a fine commander with an impressive battle record. Maybe because of his age and experience, he was a little less openly aggressive than many of his compatriots, and after the usual posturing, he had invited Krang – although ordered might be a better word – to join him onboard his flagship.

"We're escorting this lot to Khitomer," Talak told Krang, handing him a large mug of bloodwine. "Then we're free to join the war again."

"We need every ship out there we can get," Krang acknowledged as he took a mouthful. The wine slid down his throat like liquid fire, a little rough but still worth drinking. "This is good," he complimented. "It tastes like the Opri vintner." For all his blustering a few days ago about how bad the stuff was, it had been just that – good natured teasing. He would insist until his dying day that his was better, but there were good reasons why Opri was so popular.

"You know your bloodwine," Talak said, impressed. "Care to hazard a guess on the year?"

Krang stared at the wine in his mug and took another mouthful. "I'm no expert," he said thoughtfully, if not completely accurately. Most people would consider him to be just that, and indeed, he was an expert on his own wine, although his knowledge of other vineyards was unfortunately out of date. "But Opri does have quite a distinct flavour – a combination of the variety they use and the minerals in their soil. This one has got to be a reserve. I'd estimate about eight years old."

"Nine actually," Talak corrected, picking up the ornate pewter-coloured decanter and topping up the mugs. "So, what are your plans?"

Krang thought about the question. Despite the message he'd sent to Admiral Portway at Starfleet headquarters on Earth, he still had no reply other than a brief instruction from one of her assistants to remain in situ and await further orders. If he could kill a few more Jem'Hadar while he was waiting, the assistant had added, that would be great. He'd thought he would have heard something by now, but so far, he was still waiting.

Captain Mackenzie, on the other hand, had pre-existing instructions to cause as much trouble as possible in Dominion controlled space. When he had read Kay'vin's personal log, he discovered that the dead captain's orders, after transporting him to Earth, had been to continue with his previous mission until further notice, and like Endeavour, hunt down and kill as many of the enemy as possible.

After considering all the options, Krang had concluded that for the time being he would join the Endeavour in its mission.

"Until I'm instructed otherwise," Krang told the general, "I intend to find and destroy as many enemy ships as I can. I have spent too long behind a desk, and I will freely admit that I am enjoying the opportunity to fight."

"Sounds like a good plan," Talak said, raising his mug and drinking down its contents in one long gulp. "It's just a pity I'm stuck with this ghuy'cha convoy. Kill a few Jem'Hadar for me, Krang."

Finishing off his own drink, Krang got to his feet, ready to return to his own ship. "It will be my pleasure."


Saturday 22nd February 2375

It was two days before Krang and Captain Mackenzie heard from Starfleet again. By this time they were well away from the convoy and travelling at high warp back towards enemy held space. They had encountered and destroyed the occasional enemy ship but on the whole things had remained quiet.

The previous day had been Antonio's thirteenth birthday and Krang had made the time to call his family and spend some time with his son via subspace. He'd been present when they had lit the candles on the cake, all thirteen of them, and Antonio had blown them out before they all sang Happy Birthday. More traditions he did not quite understand, but if it made them happy, it was good enough for him.

The boy, although he was not really a boy anymore, although not yet a grown man, had been happy and exited, and completely overwhelmed by the gift of the antique bat'leth engraved with the Inigan insignia. Aware that it was a family heirloom, Antonio had always thought it would go to his brother, because although he was the youngest, he was of the blood and therefore the official Inigan heir, something that he had never resented. He'd also spoken excitedly of his first horse riding lesson, telling his father how much he'd loved the experience and hoped that the school would allow him to drop football at the end of the school year in favour of horse riding… he'd stick it out until then, he said, because he was on the team and there were some big matches coming up and he didn't want to let his team-mates down.

He'd had a little time to chat with his wife and eldest daughter as well, the younger ones being a little too over-excited and hyperactive to spend more than a minute or two talking to their father, and it had been with great regret that he'd eventually had to end the call and return to his work.

That had been yesterday. Now the two captains were sitting side by side at the table in Endeavour's observation lounge as the image of Admiral Portway appeared on the computer screen.

"Greetings, Captain Mackenzie," the Terran admiral said, carefully keeping a straight face as she continued, "Commander Krang, you're still out of uniform I see."

"You already know from my report that I have taken control of Hegh'Ta," Krang informed her stiffly, wondering with some irritation just what was this fascination women seemed to have with his choice of clothing. Even Marla had commented on his choice of Defence Force grey before learning the reason for his call. "Starfleet uniform would be inappropriate under the circumstances."

"I quite agree," the admiral said, surprising him, and this time, he did notice the twinkle in her eye that indicated she had been teasing him, very slightly inappropriate as that might be. "Gentlemen, I must inform you that the captain of the Orinoco has put in a formal complaint against you. He alleges that your actions recklessly endangered his vessel."

"What? But…" Mackenzie was shocked by that. Admittedly, the freighter captain had done little but complain through the whole journey, but to claim reckless endangerment was in his opinion, both unfair and untrue. "The whole incident is fully described in my report," he said eventually. "I believe we acted in the best interests of the refugees on board the freighter." He hesitated for a moment, not liking to criticise his superiors but decided it was necessary. "If I may speak freely?"

"Go ahead," the admiral invited dryly. "You usually do."

"Why was the Orinoco not given an escort to start with? He should never have been allowed to leave Starbase 62 without adequate protection."

"I'm told that there were no vessels available for guard duty," Admiral Portway said. "Apparently he was asked to wait a few days for an escort to arrive, but refused. He denies it of course."

"That doesn't add up," Captain Mackenzie said thoughtfully. "Captain Mansfield's too cautious for that. If he denies it, I would be inclined to believe him."

"As would I," Krang agreed. He did not like the freighter captain, having found him to be rude and disrespectful, but he was not stupid or reckless. I do not think he would have put his passengers in danger in that way."

Admiral Portway considered what the two men were telling her. She had known Captain Mackenzie for years. The Klingon had come under her command only very recently, but despite the doubts some of her fellow admirals had as to his loyalties, his commanding officers thought highly of him. Both men were experienced officers, and she had no reason to distrust their judgement. It seemed to her that there was a cover-up somewhere along the line. If someone had deliberately placed the Orinoco and its cargo of refugees in danger... She stopped that thought there, not liking where it was going. She would have to discreetly continue her investigations.

"You have both done very well in your handling of the Orinoco incident," Admiral Portway reassured the two captains. "Starfleet Command has read your reports and after due consideration of Captain Mansfield's complaints, which seem to stem from – and I quote… 'using his ship as bait for the Jem'Hadar', we feel that there was nothing else you could have done under the circumstances. As you stated in your report, I think it very likely that the enemy ship would have returned with reinforcements that you were ill equipped to fight off. He'll be getting a carefully worded response to his complaints and hopefully that will be the end of it. In the meantime, a commendation will be placed on your records for a job well done."

"I understand you have new orders for us," Krang enquired. Uncomfortable with the unexpected praise, he changed the subject to something he considered more relevant.

"Your orders, Captain Mackenzie and Commander Krang, are to return to Qo'noS," Admiral Portway informed them, "I will meet you there at the First City spaceport to relay further instructions. I am en-route there now."

"As for the conference…" the admiral continued, addressing Krang now, "It is regrettable that you missed it, but I fully understand why Captain Kay'vin answered the distress call." She paused for a moment, reading something on a data padd. "The Klingon Imperial Command will appoint a new captain for Hegh'Ta once you reach the Homeworld. In the meantime, Chancellor Gowron has confirmed your temporary appointment to the position."

"I understand, Admiral," Krang said. "I will continue to serve both Starfleet and the Empire to the best of my ability."

"I would expect nothing less from you," Admiral Portway responded tartly. "Captain Mackenzie, with regard to your senior officers, we accept the reasons behind your acceptance of Commander Kehlan as your first officer. Chancellor Gowron wishes her to continue in that role until you return to Qo'noS and Starfleet Command is happy to concur. We'll review the situation once you've arrived and been debriefed."

"Thank you, Admiral." Mackenzie was pleased. He had hoped for this decision but had been unsure as to whether Starfleet would allow a Defence Force officer to continue serving on a Starship. He had already lost two first officers in the course of the war, and he didn't want to lose a third. This wasn't quite the permanent arrangement he wanted, but it was a start.

"I will expect to see both of you on Qo'noS," the admiral concluded. "You're both dismissed."


Returning to his own vessel, Krang gave the order to turn the ship around and lay in a course for Qo'noS. He had known that his command of the Hegh'Ta was temporary, but he found that he didn't want to give it up and he could not help the feelings of disappointment. He genuinely missed his family, and he knew that the work he had been doing on Frontera was important to the war effort, but he was a Klingon warrior, born and bred to fight, and he did not want to go back to sitting behind a desk while others went out to battle.

He thought over the conversation with Admiral Portway. She had made it clear that she was not satisfied with the problem of the Orinoco, and he suspected that the matter was not yet closed. Had someone deliberately sent Orinoco into harm's way? But who and why? This was a problem he could definitely help with. He had spent years running the Klingon Intelligence network and this was exactly the sort of thing he was trained for, although this sort of data search, tedious and time-consuming as it tended to be, was usually the remit of the junior officers.

His own access codes were long out of date, of course, but he had been involved in writing the Empire's security protocols and he would be very surprised if he could not eventually get into the system. But that would come later, once he had checked through the information available in the Starfleet databases.

After some consideration he started by pulling up passenger and crew lists to see who had been on board the freighter, cross referencing the lists with details such as planet of origin, race and security clearance. He found nothing unusual, everything checked out as it was supposed to. What about cargo, he wondered? Examining the cargo manifests and comparing it with the bills of lading he found that again, everything checked out.

So far he had been able to find absolutely no reason why someone might have wanted the Orinoco destroyed. He had to be missing something. Krang frowned and began the search again, this time digging deeper. One by one he went through the names on the lists, bringing up a full personnel file on each person and cross checking against planetary records and other classified files. Three quarters of the way down the list, he finally found what he was looking for.

A Bajoran woman named Jen Maran had been among the refugees onboard the freighter. Bajoran records were admittedly sketchy but a date of birth had been given as 2335, making her 40 years old. In itself there was nothing strange about the data, but the village listed as her place of birth had been destroyed by the Cardassians six months later with no known survivors. Now it was possible that Jen Maran had not been in the village at the time and had escaped the massacre. But it was equally possible that the woman known as Jen Maran was not the original. It wouldn't be the first time that a false ID had been created in this way.

The question Krang now had to ask was, if the woman was a fake, who was she? He seriously doubted that she was a criminal or a freelancer, the cover up had been well done and bore all the hallmarks of a professional job. It was his guess that Jen Maran was probably an intelligence operative trying to get back with sensitive information. And if that was the case, who could have known about it?

If he were to continue guessing, he would put his bets on someone on the Starbase command staff. It would have to be someone in a senior position, with access to classified information. Even with all his experience in intelligence work it had taken him hours of work to find out this much and there was still no proof of anything. It was all supposition and he would need a lot more evidence before any accusations could be made.

Deciding to pass on what he had learned so far, Krang recorded a message and encrypted it, sending it on a maximum security frequency to the Federation embassy at Qo'noS, for the personal attention of Admiral Portway. That done, he continued with his investigation.

This time he turned his attention to the personnel onboard Starbase 62. Reading through their files, it occurred to him that I.I. were almost guaranteed to have an agent on board themselves. It would be sensible, he decided, to find out what information they held on the starbase. Activating the computer again, he entered the I.I. system, carefully navigating his way through the layers of classification to find the information he needed.