Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [77]
“Yes,” he agreed. “You will ask the questions.”
“You bought two bombs from a pair of armory workers on Terjas Mor,” Kahless told him. “Bombs intended for use in an academy on Ogat. But you didn’t see them planted yourself. You were merely a go-betweens middleman. Who was it you bought the bombs for?”
Muuda swallowed again, even harder than before.
Obviously, he was thinking of what would happen to him if his employers discovered he had identified them. But he also had to be thinking about the more immediate danger-the masked intruders in his bath chamber.
Noting Muuda’s indecision, the clone flicked the point of his dagger, breaking the skin of the Klingon’s cheek.
He winced as a droplet of lavender blood emerged.
“I asked you a question,” Kahless hissed. “I expect an answer.
Muuda glared at him. “All right,” he said, slurring his words. “I’ll tell you. Just let me up. It is cold in here.” The clone shook his head. “Not a chance, p’tahk. You will have plenty of time to warm yourself when we are done here. Now who was it?”
Seeing his ploy wouldn’t work, the Klingon acquiesced.
He told them not only who was involved in the plot, but the role each of the conspirators had assumed in it.
It was just as Kahless had been telling them all along.
These people were some of the most highly placed officers in the Klingon Defense Force. And there was one name that was not associated with the Defense Force, but was nonetheless more important than all the others.
“All well and good,” said Worf. “But what proof do we have that this kotal is telling the truth?”
The merchant licked his lips. “There is a way to prove it,” he replied. And he informed them of it.
When Muuda was done, the clone took his knife back and sheathed it. “That is more like it,” he said. “Now we leave you to your newfound wealth and your companions.
But trust me, coward, when I say you will not have long to enjoy them. The innocents you killed will not soon be forgotten.”
Picard saw the look in Muuda’s eyes. The Klingon believed it. No doubt, it would take the pleasure out of his revels, knowing how short-lived they would be. At least, the captain wanted to think so.
With a jerk of his shaggy head, the clone advised them it was time to withdraw. The warriors in the house might come out of their drunken sleep at any moment, and it would be tempting fate to stay and lock horns with them.
Instead, Kahless slipped out of the window, and the others followed. Before Muuda and his females could sound the alarm, Picard saw the glimmer in the air that signified their transport.
The Heroic Age lchless and his men had barely settled in when Molor’s army began to move, charging headlong without the least bit of caution. After all, the enemy’s warchiefs expected the rebels to be helpless and exposed. Thanks to the warning Kahless had received, they were neither.
He waited only until Molor’s soldiers had moved past them and were on the verge of the rebel camp. Then, with guile and fury and righteous indignation, he attacked.
The tyrant’s men never knew what hit them.
The outlaws cut through them like a scythe, harvesting death, irrigating the ground with the blood of their adversaries. Kahless searched for Edronh across the battlefield, but never found him. It wasn’t until later that he realized why. Apparently, Morath had found him first and showed him the error of his ways.
In the end, Kahless routed Molor’s men, sending away half the number that had come after him. It was his second great victory in three days. More importantly, it showed his followers they could go nose-to-nose with the best-trained army in the world.
When the combat was over, and Kahless was surveying the field with Morath at his side, he remembered another bit of advice he had gotten in his dream. Unfortunately, he could not take it literally.
A lock of hair was not a good think to make a weapon of, no matter how cleverly it was twisted. Nor was the crater of an active volcano any place for a man who still clung to sanity.
Still, Kellein’s directions made a kind of sense if one looked