Chapter 8
4th March 2631
USS Redemption
Starfleet Construction Yard
In Orbit of Romulus
Doctor Andrew Keene heard his boss approaching and swore loudly. He toggled a button on the padd in front of him, replacing the information on the screen with a virtual gene resequencing experiment he had been working on earlier. As planned, the complex seven-helixal structure collapsed into a disparate series of proteins just as the Redemption's Chief Medical Officer peered round the door.
Doctor Malok, a hulking Klingon who looked almost silly in his Starfleet uniform and long white coat, smiled amiably, reminding Keene of a lamb ready for slaughter.
"A problem, doctor?" he boomed in his deep voice.
"This damn genome again,” Keene explained, waving the padd. “I can't get the cytosine to splice together with the phosphate deoxyribose backbone.”
“You’re still working on the ketrecel white study?”
Keene nodded. “I know that if I can find some way of modifying the key integer, I’ll be able to bring out the drug’s medicinal properties without causing the long term addiction.”
"Would you like me to take a look?"
No, I don't want you to take a look, you p'tagh, Keene thought. He frowned down at the padd to hide his savage expression and shook his head. "I'm sure I'll work it out eventually."
Doctor Malok nodded his head affably, then vanished back into his office. Keene watched him go, barely able to contain his disgust. If I had a bat-leth in my hand...
Keene – whose real name was L’goth, son of Bartok - fought back the desire to stand up, cross the sickbay and kill the false Klingon where he sat. A doctor! A Klingon doctor! Klingon ships carried medics and sawbones, warriors who had developed particular skills and put them at the service of their fellow warriors, when they weren’t fighting. No true Klingon would devote his life to the care of others.
He knew that Malok was one of the shuvoth'shu, the honorless, but that didn’t make it any better. Those false Klingons may have turned away from the old ways completely after the war, abandoning the way of the warrior in favour of pacifistic beliefs, but they were still Klingons.
Even those cursed Khitomer traitors with their twisted beliefs about honour are better than these… these farmers. Farmers! Scientists! Doctors! Klingons refusing to take up arms, no matter the provocation. If they hadn’t joined the Federation and gained their protection, the Empress would have wiped them out long before.
Keene fought back the desire to spit. P'taghs, all of them.
He forced himself to release a long, drawn out breath. Casting a surreptitious glance around the sickbay, he checked that none of his fellow doctors were watching him. Once he was sure, he keyed in the code that would release the real file he had been working on. It reappeared instantly, filling him with delight.
He had downloaded it from another padd the night before, a padd that had been left for him in a Jeffries tube by an unknown ally. On it were the command and control codes for the sensor perimeter surrounding the Romulan sector, the command overrides for the planetary defence platforms of Romulus itself, the shield harmonic frequencies for Starbase 2 and the planet below, as well as the exact locations of the Federation fleets. With this information, General K’mpak’s fleet would be able to approach the construction yard without being detected and carry out their attack on the Redemption. A glorious blow for the Empire.
Now all he needed to do was to transmit it.
His plan was in place, he just needed to create an opportunity. If it succeeded, he should be able to maintain his cover even if the attack failed to destroy the ship. It was so elegant that even if the transmission were discovered or intercepted, his plan would still create a schism between the Federation and those damned Khitomer Klingons. That would be an added bonus, though. The Empress had made his main objective very clear - the Federation could not be allowed to forged an alliance with the Laurentine Hegemony. Destroying the Redemption would be the easiest way to assure that.
Standing, he wandered over towards Doctor Malok's office. The Redemption’s sickbay was as state of the art as the rest of the ship. In his time undercover, Keene had come to respect the Federation’s ingenuity if nothing else. A vast series of brilliantly white circular rooms connected by short corridors, the medical centre held almost one hundred biobeds, a handful of stasis units and enough medical equipment to fill three planetary hospitals. The medical staff itself was three dozen strong. And Keene knew that none of it would do the ship the slightest good if his plan succeeded.
Keeping an eye on the other doctors, Keene wondered again who his mysterious ally was. It couldn't be another undercover Klingon – an agent of the Empire would simply have transmitted the information himself. That meant it was someone else, someone who also had a vested interest in seeing the Federation's mission to Onyx Station fail.
Arriving at a station near Malok's office, he bent down as if to check something in the database, and slipped a small command device from his sleeve. He had programmed it himself the night before, using the access codes that the Imperial Secret Service had provided him. With those, he was able to hack into any part of the Redemption’s computer mainframe and insert any program he wanted.
Now he activated the command code he had uploaded the night before and waited.
Within seconds, an alarm began to sound. The insufferable voice of the Federation computer system spoke over the whining alarm. "Attention, medical emergency on Deck 12. Plasma leak detected. Attention, medical emergency on Deck 12. Plasma leak detected. Attention..."
The door to Malok's office whooshed open and the burly doctor rushed out, followed by two medical technicians. Every eye in the room turned to follow them out the door. Keene took the opportunity to slip through the open doors and into the CMO's office.
Before the door had even closed behind him, Keene was round the desk and settled in the high-backed chair. Reaching into his pocket, he slipped out a tiny circular device and affixed it to his chest. The holo-emitter had cost him two bars of latinum on one of the Empire's backwater worlds, purchased from a trader who claimed to have brought it in the Delta Quadrant.
Keene pressed the button, waiting for the energy field to expand and settle around him. If anyone came in now, they would see the figure of a tall Klingon woman in a Starfleet Commander's uniform. Getting Commander Kalara's likeness had been difficult, but a key part of his plan.
The mobile emitter had a limited amount of energy, so Keene quickly called up the embedded screen in the Doctor's desk. Attaching a communication's scrambler to the computer, which would reroute the transmission through a warren of comm lines and relays, he keyed in a secure code and waited for General K’mpak to respond.
IKS Ho’dath’nek
Klingon Empire – Federation Border
K’mpak, son of Tyrel, did not like waiting.
As he sat in the command chair of the Martok-class destroyer, stroking the hair of his human slave, he gazed at the blazing stars of the Federation. That was where he wanted to be. They seemed to call out to him, a song of blood and conquest and vengeance. He let their calls wash over him like radiation, stirring his blood and quickening his pulse.
The fleet had been in position on the border for three days now, waiting for some kind of signal from inside Federation space, as per K’mpak’s orders. Those orders had come from the Empress herself – he was to keep the fleet ready, in formation, until her agent contacted him. Her agent! He turned his head to the side and spat in the bowl on the floor. Spies and secrets! That was not the way of the Klingon warrior. What kind of a weakling could have accepted such a mission? To infiltrate the puny humans’ puny little ship! A woman’s job.
"Anything?" he growled finally.
His sta'ko'mar, an officer position similar to an operations' manager, turned in his seat. He shook his head, baring his teeth. "Nothing, my general."
"What is he waiting for?" K’mpak growled, tightening his fingers in his slave's blond hair. She whimpered, drawing his attention. He looked down at her and leered. "You have something to add, my sweet?"
She shook her head, wincing as the movement pulled on her hair. K’mpak laughed and went back to stroking her head. "At least this one knows her place."
He had taken her from her husband three months before, seizing her as spoils aboard a civilian freighter carrying supplies to Mostan III, a colony world settled by the cursed shuvoth'shu. She had shared his bed every night since and crouched at his side every day. Surprisingly, he had yet to tire of her.
"General," his sta'ko'mar interrupted the train of his thoughts, voice suddenly taut with excitement. "I am receiving an encoded transmission." He turned to K’mpak with a grin. "It carries an Imperial identifier."
"On-screen," K’mpak crowed, standing up and stepping into the middle of the bridge. "Let's see him."
To K’mpak's surprise, a Klingon woman appeared on the viewscreen. A striking female, she bore scars on her face and neck. To his utter disgust, she wore a Starfleet uniform.
One of the traitors! A Federation lapdog!
"Identify yourself!" K’mpak spat. How dare this woman contact him?
"My name is not important, General K’mpak" the woman said calmly. "You need know me only as your kapamai."
"A spy," one of the bridge officers sneered. The others laughed. The only people lower in a Klingon's esteem than a spy were the traitors who had abandoned the Empire, and non-Klingons. K’mpak allowed his crew their fun, then he lifted a gauntleted fist. Silence fell like a shroud.
"And what does my kapamai have for me?"
The woman reached over to a padd by her side and pressed a button. Almost immediately, a light lit up on the sta'ko'mar's station.
"As ordered, the full command and control codes for the entire Romulan sector, including the specifications of the shipyard defence systems."
K’mpak looked over at his sta’ko’mar. The man stared at the scrolling data for a minute, then looked up at the general and nodded once. K’mpak could see the gleam of bloodlust in the man's eyes. Much slaughter will be done tonight.
“As you can see, the Federation is depending on Starbase 2 and their planetary defences to protect them,” the woman went on. “They are spread so thin that the Fourth Fleet has had to abandon their station to show their teeth to the Andorians.”
“Andorians.” K’mpak spat again.
“They pose a threat to the Federation, general. One that gives us an opportunity. You will find that the transmission also holds the shield frequency for Starbase 2, as well as that of the Romulus planetary shield. If you maintain the advantage of surprise, you should have at least an hour before reinforcements arrive.” The woman snarled. “More than enough time to destroy Redemption.”
K’mpak sneered. “Redemption is but one ship. But to destroy their command headquarters and their starbase… That would be a victory worthy of song.”
“No, General, you must…”
“What did you say?” Behind him on the bridge, he felt everyone go very still.
“My general, the Redemption is the most important part of…”
“Do not forget your place, kapamai. You have done a great service to the Empire. A deed almost worthy of a true warrior."
"I live to serve the Empire and the will of the Empress."
"When this is over, perhaps you would like to serve the will of a General of the Empire," K’mpak leered.
The woman smiled. "Perhaps. But first, you must destroy Redemption and…"
"You whine like a Ferengi, kapamai. I am in command of this fleet. I will decide what targets to attack.”
“But…”
“Do not try my patience, kapamai. We will be at your location in seven hours."
The woman seemed about to say something more, then she let out a deep breath. "Then I wish you success. Qapl'a, General."
K’mpak didn't respond, indicating to his sta'ko'mar that he should cut the communication. The viewscreen returned to the previous view of the stars. Stars that will soon burn in the Empire's name, K’mpak thought happily.
Turning back to his seat, his cloak swirling around him, K’mpak settled into the command chair, his hand returning to his human pet's head. He sensed the mounting tension in his men, the desire to taste blood this day. Still, he waited.
Only when he could sense their desire reaching a fever pitch did he turn to his sta'ko'mar.
"Soldier."
"Yes, my general."
K’mpak's fanged teeth glimmered in the bridge's dim lights. "Instruct the fleet to move into escort positions. Then take us out. The Federation awaits."
He smiled as his men roared in anticipation. Sitting back in his chair, he stroked the slave's hair and decided that today would be a good day to die.
USS Redemption
Keene disconnected the communication's scrambler from the doctor's computer with a snarl. Placing it on the floor, he stamped on it with his foot. The metal gave way beneath his boot, the electrics inside leaving a trace of ozone in the air.
Damn the fool! Everything had gone according to plan, up until now. The Empress’ plan had been flawless. But that p’tagh would ruin everything if he didn’t do exactly as the Empress had commanded. If K’mpak attacked the starbase or the planet instead of concentrating on the ship…
As he gathered the rest of his equipment, Keene wondered why men like K’mpak continued to hold his kind - spies - in such low esteem. They were warriors, just like the soldiers aboard that ship. Shadow warriors, striking from the darkness. Yes, he liked that. Shadow warriors.
At least the Empress understood. One of her first acts after coming to the throne had been to form a new secret service, a group of trusted men and women able and willing to infiltrate the Empire’s enemies. That farsightedness was beginning to bear fruit. If men like General K’mpak didn’t ruin it.
He was about to disconnect the holo-emitter when the door to the office slid open, revealing Doctor Malok. Keene froze, his heart suddenly beating wildly. Both men stood stock still, staring at the other. Luckily, Keene recovered first.
"Finally, doctor, I've been waiting for you. Where have you been?"
"Captain, I... I wasn't aware that you had arrived on board."
“I didn’t ask you for what you thought, Doctor. I asked you where you have been.”
Malok straightened. “A false alarm, Captain. One of the sensor arrays on Deck 12 seems to have malfunctioned and reported a plasma leak. As per Starfleet regulations…”
"Don’t quote Starfleet regulations to me, Doctor. I had been hoping to discuss your posting to this ship, but I have run out of time. We will have to speak of this at another time."
"Discuss my posting, Captain?" Malok’s eyes had grown wary. He knows, Keene thought. He’s afraid of what she must think of him.
"Well yes," Keene sneered, hoping to confirm the Doctor’s suspicions. "You are a shuvoth'shu after all. I'm not sure how comfortable I am serving with someone with so little honor."
Before the words had left his mouth, Malok had crossed the room and had him by the throat. Keene felt himself lifted off the floor and spun round, then found himself on his back on the table, Malok's fist clenched around his windpipe.
"For that, I should kill you here and now, Commander,” Malok hissed. His eyes were fire. “Do not mistake refusal to take up arms as a lack of Klingon honor or pride."
Keene tried to choke out a few words, but Malok’s grip was unbreakable as an iron band. His struggles did seem to cut through the doctor’s rage, through. The fire slowly faded from his eyes and his grip lessened. As he let go, Keene gasped, sucking in a deep breath. His throat burned. Malok stumbled back, his hand clenching and unclenching on thin air as Keene struggled to his feet. He was absolutely astounded at the reaction. It was the last thing he would have expected from one of the shuvoth'shu. Perhaps there is a hint of the Klingon heart in these people after all.
“Commander, I…” He bowed his head. “I have dishonored myself.”
"Not at all, doctor. Indeed, perhaps I have misjudged you," he said in Kalara's voice, hoarse from the doctor’s attack. "I... I will take this under advisement."
Malok continued to look down, refusing to meet his eyes. Keene opened his mouth to say something else, then realised he had no idea what to say. He turned smartly on his heels, instead, and marched from the doctor's office. Ignoring the startled glances he received from the medical staff, he fled the sickbay, breaking into a run when he reached the corridor. He didn’t meet anyone on the way to the nearest turbolift. Only once he was alone inside did he press the button on the holo-emitter, destroying the illusion of the Klingon commander and returning to his human form.
He heaved a sigh of relief. He'd done it. K’mpak might use the information or he might not, but he had done his part. The fleet had all the information they needed to get past the Federation's defences. If anyone ever discovered the transmission, suspicion would fall on either Captain Kalara or Doctor Malok. He had done everything he could. Now everything depended on the General.
As he instructed the turbolift to carry him back to his quarters, Keene just prayed to the old gods that no one had noticed the sudden absence of Doctor Keene.