Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [79]
Tossing his shaggy head back, he laughed out loud.
“Dead?” he roared. Abruptly, he leaned forward, so that his face was only a couple of inches from the monitor.
“Tell me, son of a targ-do I look dead to you?”
The station commander swallowed. “No,” he conceded, “you do not.”
“Then lower your shields,” said Kurn, pressing his advantage, “and prepare for our arrival.”
The Klingon on the relay station hesitated-but only for a moment. Then, looking as if he’d just eaten something distasteful, he turned and barked an order over his shoulder.
“Our shields have been lowered,” he reported. “You may beam aboard the station whenever you please.”
That was Picard’s cue. Still wearing the cloak he had used on Terjas Mor, he picked up the hood and brought it down over his face. After all, it would arouse instant suspicion if a human were to beam aboard alongside Kurn.
Since Kahless and Worf might also have been recognized, they donned their hoods as well. Only Kurn went bareheaded.
Picard and his lieutenant set their disruptors on stun.
However, their companions, Klingons through and through, did nothing of the sort.
Worf’s brother then reached for the remote transporter controls set into his armband. He tapped out the proper sequence and glanced at the captain-as if to make certain he was ready for what would follow.
Picard was ready, all right. The next thing he knew, he was standing on what appeared to be the relay station’s main deck, almost face-to-face with the Klingon he’d seen on the monitor.
Kurn interposed himself between them, so the station Comm ander wouldn’t be tempted to try to peer inside the hood. Of course, that didn’t stop the other Klingons present.
Each of them looked up from his duties and wondered at the newcomers. The captain noted that the Klingons were all armed-not that that was a surprise. And he was certain their disruptors weren’t set on stun.
“I want to download secured transmission records,” Worf’s brother announced. “My ship’s computer is ready and waiting. All I need is your help to get past the security codes.”
The station commander glanced at Picard, Worf, and finally Kahless. Then he turned back to Kurn.
“You travel in mysterious company,” the Klingon observed.
“My choice of companions is not your concern,” Kurn snapped. And then, to throw out a bone: “A man in my position finds the best bodyguards he can, Klingon or otherwise. Now, the help I asked for?”
The station commander frowned. Obviously, this wasn’t going to be as easy as they had hoped.
“You have not yet stated your reasons for coming here,” he maintained. “It’s one thing to allow you entry, considering your position with the Defense Force. But to circumvent the security codes, I would require clearance from the homeworld. I have not received any such clearance.”
Kurn grunted. “And if I told you I was here on Council business? And that the Council does not wish its dealings to be known beyond these bulkheads?”
The station commander thrust out his beardless chin.
“In that case, I would still require some form of-was
Kurn didn’t allow him to finish his statement. Instead, he backhanded the Klingon across the mouth with a closed fist, sending him staggering into a bulkhead. When the station commander looked at him again, there was hate in his eyes and lavender blood running down his chin.
But by then, Worf’s brother was aiming his disrupter pistol at the Klingon’s forehead-just as his companions were pointing theirs at the various other personnel on the station.
Kurn took a step closer to the station commander, keeping his weapon level. The look in his eyes said he wouldn’t think twice about using it. In fact, he might relish the experience.
“Thank your ancestors I am a merciful man,” Kurn bellowed. “But I will not ask you again.” He tilted his head to indicate the communications console at one end of the room. “Do it-or you will wish you had.”
Suddenly, Picard heard a shout from somewhere behind him. He whirled just in time to see yet another Klingon emerge from behind a sliding