File after file scrolls across the screen before my eyes, until I begin to wonder if my vision will remain pixellated for life. They tell me little. We have interrogated the QarS computer network remorselessly, we have swept the dome and gathered up every datapad, every stray isolinear chip.
We have the records of the former House of QarS. And they tell us surprisingly little.
"Security," the human renegade Oschmann mutters, as she catalogues and files another data archive. "They must have implemented proper security. Damn them."
"Our computer core can break their codes!" my exec K'Rokok snarls at her. There is still no love lost between those two. Sooner or later, they will kill each other, I am sure.
"There's stuff which isn't stored on computers," Oschmann says. "Stuff, I'd guess, which was only stored in some people's heads. The raw data is there, and yes, our computer can crack it. But we'd need someone to provide a context for that data, and all the QarS -"
"Are dead," I finish for her. "Rrueo fears you may be correct. Oh, our forensic teams will gather much information, there is no doubt of that. Enough to put an end to whatever remains of the QarS.... But Rrueo fears we will miss much that is essential."
I turn and pace the deck of the huge, impractical bridge. Through panels of transparent aluminium, I can see the nameless planetoid turning, sluggishly, below the Skaldak. Down there are hundreds of corpses, felled by the poison gas... and some of them have taken secrets to their graves with them. Loresingers. The QarS still had their Loresingers, who could recite tales of the glory of the House... and what else might they have committed to their memories?
As far as I know, their dealings with Kalevar Thrang were not recorded... and there is another detail which bothers me, too. The QarS were experienced - terrorists, dissidents, criminals, whatever one might want to call them. They were accustomed to the practice of security. Yet, somehow, they allowed someone to connect a canister of alpha-furanizol to their air supply. How was that managed?
Questions without answers. I turn back towards the data displays.
"Sir." The Gorn, Toriash, speaks from the comms console. "Signal from the Nuru-Or."
"On screen." R'j is out of the system, hunting - no doubt uselessly - for the anomalous warp signature we detected. A slim lead, but all our leads are slim.
Now, her face appears on the main screen. "Do you have news?" I ask.
Her silvery eyes flicker. "Where - oh, there you are. S-s-s-s-s. Yes, that bridge is inconveniently large. We have a contact on sensors, inbound to your location."
"Our mystery?"
"No. Council identification - transponder reads IKS Gamak. They are heading your way at high speed. I thought you might appreciate forewarning."
"Rrueo thanks you. Do you have any details as to what you warn Rrueo of?"
R'j smiles. "High Council identification. Diplomatic privilege. I suspect we have drawn the attention of high-ranking bureacrats."
I roll my eyes. "Rrueo will try to be polite. Do you have an ETA?"
"At the rate they were going, very soon. Within minutes, I think. I will bring Nuru-Or back to the planetoid. This search is proving fruitless, and it might be as well for both of us to hear what the Council's functionary has to say. Nuru-Or out."
The screen goes blank. I stroke my whiskers with one claw. "Well," I say, "it is as well to have warning... but Rrueo does not believe we have anything to hide from the High Council. Perhaps some trivial looting in the dome - but that is only to be expected." I shake my head. "Rrueo's conscience is clear. Rrueo must savour this moment - it is unlikely to come again soon."
"Contact on long-range sensors," K'Rokok reports. "At the fringe of the system.... There. Dropping out of warp. Estimate rendezvous in thirty minutes."
"Incoming hail," says Toriash.
"On screen."
The image that forms - I blink. It is a face the colour of ancient bronze, with strange silvery eyes, and a massive bony crest that holds back a mane of green hair - but it is a heavy-jawed masculine face, and the voice that whisper-rasps at me is a strange one. "Attention. I am -" the name is an interrupted slushy rustling noise, sounding something like V'l' R'st'l " - Magnate of the Nine Exalted Triskaidecagons, Harbinger of the Grand Maelstrom, Master of the Prygonian Chapter, Knight-Commander of the Necessary Schismatics of S'krr'j-h'ya, honorary General in the KDF, Commissioner of the High Council, aboard the IKS Gamak."
"Rrueo-Captain, Rrueo-Thinker, aboard the IKS Skaldak," I reply. "How may we be of assistance?"
"You are in orbit around a possession of the discommendated House of QarS," says R'st'l. "The High Council has an interest in the activities of these criminals. My orders are to carry out an investigation into their facility on the planetoid."
"Then your purpose is also ours," I say. "We are already carrying out an investigation - we will gladly share our results with you -"
"That would not be compatible with my orders," says R'st'l. "The Gamak is to land at the QarS base and take possession. Neither interference nor -" the whispering voice takes on an ironic tone "- assistance is to be permitted."
I think. I must be careful, here. "Rrueo is acting under the express orders of the Chancellor," I say, "and she must be cautious that she does no less than her duty. It would be as well if you and Rrueo were to avoid situations where our duties might clash."
"S-s-s-s-s. Do you refuse the orders of the High Council?"
I must be very careful, it seems. But this is one of R'j's people, and I know they are sticklers for their rituals and their formalities. "Rrueo makes no refusal. Rrueo notes, however, that she must obey the orders of the Chancellor. Rrueo puts it to you that the High Council and the Chancellor should be in harmony - and so should you and Rrueo, as the officers of both."
R'st'l seems to consider this. Again, it is fortunate that I know how to interpret Mlkwbrian facial expressions. "S-s-s-s-s," he says, at length. "You raise a valid point. Do your instructions, though, forbid me to land at the QarS base?"
"No. Land as you wish," I say.
"I am not supposed to permit any obstruction or molestation - any interference of any kind, in fact. Will you withdraw your forces from the facility?"
"Rrueo has no pressing need to maintain control of it. Rrueo will issue orders for her search teams to beam up immediately, if amity requires it of her."
"S-s-s-s-s. Yes," says R'st'l. "Yes, I think it does."
---
"Well, it is no matter for Rrueo," I explain to R'j, later. "Not any more. We have all we need from the QarS base. Now, when your compatriot finds the base's records have already been gutted, he may require explanations - but Rrueo is happy enough to share those records with him. A trouble shared is a trouble halved - or, at least, a trouble passed on to the High Council's representative, and Rrueo will wish him joy of it."
R'j paces across the middle tier of Skaldak's bridge. Her expression is pensive. Behind her face, her mind-tone is as ever, a bundle of dry sticks, ready to flare at a single spark of insight - or violence. "S-s-s-s-s," she says. Sometimes I wonder if the Mlkwbrians are related to teakettles. "I wonder at this."
"If Rrueo were a cynic," I say, "she would think that someone on the High Council was trying to gain some share of glory from this investigation, or trying to cover up some illicit entanglement with the QarS, or possibly seeking personal profit from some venture on the side. If Rrueo were a cynic. Of course, it is possible that the High Council is genuinely concerned to expose and capture Kalevar Thrang, and is setting out to help us -"
"Oh, any number of things are possible," R'j says sourly. She looks over the edge of the deck. "You have still not eaten those targs."
"Rrueo is still not that hungry. Do you have any insights to offer? This Commissioner R'st'l is one of yours - perhaps you and he can have a quiet chat about how the Grand Maelstrom is getting along, these days."
"He is of the Nine Exalted Triskaidecagons," says R'j, "he is not to be trusted. Do you recall that I told you, once, the seven permitted circumstances in which I may utter untruths? He has nine permitted circumstances."
"Rrueo sees...." Actually, I do not. I think. "So... is it one permitted circumstance for each... polygon?"
"That is not the point," R'j snaps at me. "The point is that a man who wears the three-cornered hhh-dr'ka is not to be trusted." She waves her hand angrily at the air. "I have no comparable reference points in your culture. But a man with his - combination - of influences and interests... is most likely a politician and an equivocator."
"He must be honourable enough to rise to a commissioner's post with the High Council," I protest.
"The High Council is made up of politicians," says R'j. "Oh, I have no doubt that some of them are honest - Klingons value that. But they are all self-interested, and it is not always clear where their interests lie. Even to them." She mutters something under her breath. Sparks are flying in her mind.
"What is bothering you?" I ask directly.
"This seems too... too limited, for the High Council's involvement," R'j says.
"A Commissioner sent with sweeping authority?" I am puzzled. "This is insufficient, in your eyes?"
"A Commissioner, yes. But - s-s-s-s-s." R'j pulls a face. "My species is... not highly ranked, nor highly regarded. A serious investigation would surely be headed by a member of a majority species - most likely a Klingon, and one with family influence. And the Gamak is a single Bird of Prey...."
"Well, perhaps they want a small, landing-capable ship, so they can take it directly to the dome," I suggest.
"S-s-s-s-s. Perhaps."
"And this R'st'l might not be so inconsiderable as all that. You are a single Mlkwbrian with a Bird of Prey. Perhaps he is as capable as you."
"Perhaps." R'j's mood seems to lighten a little. "You are flattering me. Do you wish to borrow money?"
"Never at your rates." I look pensively out at the planetoid. Night has fallen over the QarS base, over R'st'l's ship, sitting beside it, over the mysterious Commissioner himself -
My eyes widen. Suddenly, there is a star shining, bright and vivid, on the dark side of the planetoid. It burns brightly for but a moment, then dims and winks out.
I turn and leap across the bridge to the nearest science console. Behind me, R'j utters some stuttering noises that suggest surprise.
"Scan the QarS base!" I demand. "What is the status of the Gamak?"
"Working." Toriash, at another console - his eyes widen. I am seeing the same thing myself. "Explosion," the Gorn continues. "Consistent with... a core breach. Both the ship and the base - totally destroyed."
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