The Death House 6

Shalo

"The power requirements are too high." The Gorn science officer, Thraak, looks down on the components of the assassin drone, dismantled and spread across the engineering lab's workbench. "Yes, it is a highly potent device - or it would be, if it could operate for longer than three minutes before exhausting its power supply!"

I pick up a datapad, input some new parameters. "And with a power source like this?" I ask, handing it to Thraak.

"Like this... hmm." He studies the figures. I pick up a segment of the drone's sleek matte-grey outer casing, turn it over in my fingers.

"That is... much better. At least half an hour at normal output." Enough power for the drone to travel several kellicams, to spoof sensors with a cloaking field, penetrate force shields with its polycyclic drill... identify a target with its onboard AI, kill with its disruptor. "But where would they get a power supply with this energy density?"

"Compressed decalithium, from the Delta Quadrant," I say shortly. "So. The Daggers of QarS did not plan a massive explosion... they intended a series of targeted assassinations. But whose deaths did they desire?"

"It must have been many," says Thraak. "The power cell is not large - and I gather the shipment was."

"Indeed. Enough to make power units for... two hundred such drones, at least." I consider. "It may simply have been a marketing exercise. They could eliminate their chosen targets, then use that as proof of concept, as it were, to sell the surplus drones on to other markets. A discommendated House needs revenues... the Daggers of QarS need them urgently."

"But of course we cannot simply ask them what their plans were," says Thraak.

"No. It is regrettable. I could have wished the Council Police had followed my advice - tracked the QarS cell, discovered more of their contacts and their movements. But - they took no prisoners." And that worries me.

"Klingons." Thraak makes a dismissive noise.

"Klingons are capable of subtlety, given cause." And they had cause... but they were not subtle. That bothers me. It is as though someone wanted no survivors. I stand up. "Well," I say, "continue your studies. Let me know if there are any interesting refinements that we can use."

"I will look," says Thraak, "but do not expect much, unless you have a source of compressed decalithium for the power cells."

I walk out of the laboratory. I suppose I should head to the bridge... instead, I turn and wander the corridors. I still do not know my way around this big new command cruiser. It is a good ship, though. I should probably thank Sarv, or J'mpok, for it.

I make my way to an external viewport, stand beside it, look down pensively on the clouds of Qo'noS.

The compressed decalithium almost certainly came from the Delta Quadrant - and, almost certainly, it was brought across the galaxy by Kalevar Thrang. The renegade must have been hiding out in the Delta Quadrant, comparatively safe from Starfleet, the KDF, and the Republic, all of whom had strong reason to dislike him. So... if he is back, now, he must have some pressing reason. And he comes bearing gifts, for terrorists, for a fallen House.

I frown. Thrang's ambitions were imperial, galactic in scope. Running weapons to petty terrorists seems - beneath him.

So, if I am right about that, he must have some long-term purpose in mind. What might it be? We cannot know, unless we learn what the QarS were offering. And we cannot learn that, if the QarS are dead.... I resolve to make some discreet enquiries among the Council Police, to learn precisely who sent them out, and with precisely what orders -

My wrist communicator chimes. I raise it to my mouth. "Shalo."

"Sir." The voice of the Klingon operations officer K'Rina. "I have a subspace call for you - priority."

I look around. There is a wall screen nearby. "Patch it through to my current location."

It takes a few seconds, but the screen clears, and a familiar face appears on it - sharp and feral, with skin the colour of old bronze, silvery eyes, and a prominent bony crest that holds back a mane of green hair. "We are at the QarS base," R'j Bl'k' says without preamble. "They are all dead. Poisoned, before we even arrived."

I raise an eyebrow. "Poisoned?"

"Their dome's air recycler was tampered with. A canister of alpha-furanizol, apparently rigged with a time delay. There were no survivors."

I nod. "I know that poison. It is efficient."

"S-s-s-s-s. We thought you might. We are studying the dome's records now, and interrogating the surviving members of the House Verga guardians."

"With what results?"

"As yet, nothing of consequence. The Verga and the QarS were not on good terms - there was no casual contact, no communication beyond payment of the fees House Verga demanded. S-s-s-s-s. The Verga had been guarding corpses for two days, all unknowing. They were notably unamused when I told them of this."

I sigh. "It is a bad time to be an associate of the former House of QarS. Their cell on Qo'noS has been comprehensively obliterated. No survivors there, either. We are searching their devices, their records -"

"As are we. The base's logs are heavily encrypted, but Rrueo is working hard to break the code. Her new ship's computer is being thoroughly tested. Also -" R'j hesitates. "It may be nothing. But while we were exploring the dome, the Skaldak picked up a transient warp signature on long-range sensors. It appears a ship passed through the fringes of this system, went sublight at least long enough for a sensor scan, and then departed."

"Do we know what type of ship?"

"We do not. There was no scheduled traffic, and Skaldak did not receive a transponder code. And the warp signature itself is - unfamiliar. Also, by the time we investigated, well degraded. But it was not a ship of any class we are familiar with."

"Can you track it?"

"Not with any certainty, no. The signature is too degraded for anything more than a general direction."

"I see. Well. Did the Verga have any expectations of a visitor?"

"I will inquire. The survivors are not highly placed, though, so they have little information. S-s-s-s-s. Their commanders seem to have had romantic notions about dying bravely in battle."

I shake my head. "If they have gone to Sto'vo'kor, I cannot help - I have no contacts there. It seems all you can do is being done, then."

"Yes. We will inform you of Rrueo's findings, as soon as she has any. S-s-s-s-s. I wonder over this. The QarS are no loss to the universe, but there are machinations behind this matter."

"Quite. I will share whatever information I can glean - which, currently, is precious little. Garaka -" I wince, then smile ruefully. "Knobos out."

The screen goes blank - and then instantly brightens again. The logo it displays is that of Imperial Intelligence. I respond instantly - it is unwise to do otherwise. "Shalo here."

The logo is replaced by a stern, impassive face, grey-bearded, one-eyed. K'men, the head of Intelligence. "General Shalo," he says without preamble. "You make it your business to be informed about the Orion Syndicate. What do you know of Yeveus of Zorb?"

"I know the name. One of D'ian's more... egregious... advisors. What has he done?"

"He has died," says K'men. "Poisoned, we believe."

"I see." I consider. "This is a great loss to manufacturers of intoxicants and some of the viler forms of pornography, but I do not see how it concerns me."

"You do not know anyone who might have wished him poisoned?"

"Only in the most general sense - people who disliked him, people who might profit by his removal. I am afraid that would make rather a long list."

"No doubt." K'men is evidently not amused. "The Chancellor regards you as knowledgeable concerning Orion customs." His tone suggests that he cannot believe J'mpok is so foolish. "Is there any particular reason someone might have for, say, visiting indignities upon the corpse?"

I think. "I cannot think of anything in particular. A corpse is a corpse, it cannot feel any - indignities. What has been done to Yeveus's body?"

"That, we do not know." K'men frowns. "It was stolen from the morgue."