"He has invited a number of merchant fleets and independent operators to join him in a mutual protection society," the Lethean said.
D'ian closed her eyes, kept them shut for a few seconds, then opened them again. "Mutir," she said, still in that calm voice, "are we talking, here, of the same Kalevar Thrang?"
"Yes, Matron," said Mutir. "At least, as far as we are able to ascertain."
Melani D'ian took a deep breath. She strode to the throne-like chair behind her ornate desk, sat down, and steepled her hands in front of her.
Mutir said nothing. He was dressed in nondescript leathers, and one side of his head was horribly scarred. In the dazzling luxury of D'ian's audience chamber, he looked very out of place.
"We could indicate to the, ahh, members of this society," he suggested, "that their decision is an ill-judged one. A policy of targeting their ships and cargoes would detract from Thrang's prestige -"
"No," said D'ian. "No. We will act just as we have done with other... protective associations. Make it plain that, if they pay their dues to the Syndicate, they will enjoy all the security they desire. And, once they feel secure, then it will be time to infiltrate our agents into their ranks. Thrang must make contact with his own organization... and when he does, we will take him."
"It would take time, Matron."
"No doubt," said D'ian. "Everything about Thrang seems to be taking longer than we anticipated." Her lustrous eyes seemed unfocused, staring into the distance. "And we are still no nearer to discovering his backers... there must be someone behind him...."
"Once we have him in our hands, Matron," said Mutir, "we will wring that truth from him, among others."
"Yes," said D'ian. "Once we have him." She shook her head, sending her dark locks tumbling. "There are other matters to attend to, in the meantime, I gather."
"Matron Viaya and Matron Delfin have been waiting for some little time," said Mutir.
"Delfin?"
"Now established as the successor to the lamented Matron Ch'eina."
"Another item on Thrang's account. Very well. Send them in."
Mutir touched his wrist communicator. After a moment, the doors to the office opened. They did not slide, but swung inwards, smoothly, ponderously, and with no sound at all.
Two women entered, side by side, pointedly looking away from each other. Viaya was small and voluptuously curved, her raven hair worn in an elaborate coiffure woven around and supported by many bejewelled ivory rods. Delfin was tall, long-legged and lissome; her skin was pale green, almost white, and her long black hair fell free almost to her waist. Melani D'ian inclined her head, a minimal nod, to each of them.
"Your feuding must cease," she told them, shortly. Viaya opened her mouth. "I did not give you leave to speak," D'ian snapped. Viaya shut her mouth and glowered, while Delfin glanced sidelong at her, a half-smile showing for a moment on her lips. "Your Houses' rivalries led to this situation," D'ian continued. "You should have made arrangements for this precious archive long ago. Now it is outside the Syndicate's hands entirely, and that is because of you. Viaya. Have you at least identified the breach in your security? Now, you may speak."
"Thrang suborned one of our security archivists - one who had access to the House's main vaults," Viaya said. Her voice was low, musical - and sullen. "He seems to have used some biological technology to maintain a hold on this person."
"Seems?" said D'ian.
"The person - died. In an unnatural manner. We suspect some poison, held in abeyance by repeated doses of an antidote."
"You suspect this? I would have hoped that you could do better than suspect."
"The - remains - are not in a condition which makes analysis easy. But that in itself implies -"
"Quite." D'ian leaned back. Her gaze turned to Delfin. "We have not met, have we, Matron Delfin? I would congratulate you on your accession, were it not for the ineptitude of your predecessor. I see you are studying my aide?" Delfin's glance kept darting, suspiciously, at Mutir.
"The Matron no doubt has concerns," said Mutir. He moved to face Delfin, turning his head so that the scars showed. "The Matron has no cause to fear that her... mental privacy... is endangered."
Delfin nodded slowly. "How did Ch'eina die?" D'ian demanded.
"She went to meet Kalevar Thrang. He killed her and took the key to the archive." Delfin's voice was high-pitched, and wavered slightly.
"As simple as that," said D'ian. "An experienced Matron of a House, an officer of the Syndicate itself - simply killed, by a lone Orion male."
"Her records show she took all normal precautions," said Delfin. "She was alone with Thrang, true, when she went to take possession of the archive. But he was scanned, he had no energy weapons, he had no nasal filters or other protections against the Matron's abilities -"
"He had something, it seems," said D'ian. She rose from her seat. "And now he has the Rehanissen Archive, and he is stirring up dissension and suspicion in every quarter he can reach. We do not need to play his game. I will not tolerate petty bickering and blame-shifting while our organization faces a crisis. The sniping and quarrelling between your Houses is to cease, forthwith. Once Kalevar Thrang and his backers have been dealt with, then you may quibble. If there is any more of it now, I will end it directly - I will unite your two Houses by requiring you two to marry each other. Do I make my requirements clear?"
Viaya nodded silently. "You do," said Delfin.
"Excellent. Now, you may leave."
They did, stalking out with an air of exaggerated hauteur. Melani D'ian waited until the double doors swung shut and locked themselves securely. Then she turned to Mutir. "Well?"
"Resentful, but chastised," said the Lethean. "They will cooperate, for the present." He snorted, and his leathery face moved in something resembling a smile. "One amusing detail. Your threat to reconcile their Houses? Neither one would find it... personally disagreeable."
Melani D'ian smiled. "Well, we must snatch such amusements as we may, in these times. What is the next item of business?"
Mutir reached for a datapad, and then the comms console on the ornate desk chimed, loudly. D'ian raised one elegant eyebrow, and touched the controls. "This had better be important," she said.
For an instant, the console's screen was blank, and then a face appeared on it; a Klingon face, with an iron-grey beard, and a patch over one eye. "I believe it is," said K'Men.
"I see." D'ian's face assumed a mask-like composure. "How may we assist Imperial Intelligence?"
"One of my senior executives has recently melted," said K'Men.
D'ian's eyebrows rose. "Melted?"
"Quite. You may gather that this is not a usual procedure. Preliminary analysis of the - residue - shows that he was exposed to some genetically-tailored cellular phage. Further analysis suggests that this was a long-term thing - that the phage was administered some time ago, long enough for it to pervade him completely -"
"But the actual action was kept in check, by the regular use of some counter-agent," D'ian interrupted. "I have just lately heard of a similar incident in my own organization. The source -"
"Kalevar Thrang," said K'Men. "I thought as much. We have the same problem, and it dates back longer than we thought. Thrang and his operation have been preparing."
"How bad is it?" D'ian asked. "How much of your organization is compromised?"
"It is bad enough. No one knows all the secrets of Imperial Intelligence - there are areas where even I myself cherish a deliberate ignorance. But J'Negh was highly placed, and saw many files relating to joint intelligence efforts. Now, we must presume that Thrang has that information. What of the Syndicate?"
"We must assume, where there was one, there must be others. Can we identify this cellular phage by medical screening?"
"Now that we know it exists, we can develop tests. But it will take much time to screen all our personnel - some, too, are deployed where they cannot easily be recalled." The Klingon spymaster shook his head. "This is a serious matter."
"How is this counter-agent distributed? If we could close down that channel -"
"Some of our people would die.... That might be preferable, though. But what concerns me is an encrypted note left by J'Negh. It implies, strongly, that he was in contact with Thrang, directly. Not through an intermediary. The man seems to come and go as he pleases, despite all our security."
"How complete is your security screening?"
"Complete enough. Every Orion resident on or visiting Qo'noS is subject to monitoring and surveillance. The circumstances require such thoroughness.... Once this is over, you and I must discuss some of the Syndicate's activities in First City." K'Men's single eye glinted unpleasantly.
"Once this is over. But, despite all this, Thrang still eludes you?"
"And you. Unless you are not sharing all your information... which would be injudicious of you."
"Thrang is a threat to my position, as well as yours. I want him ended," said D'ian. She looked hard into K'Men's face. "I think we need to reassess just how much of a threat he is."
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