Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [88]
“Lomakh,” Unarrh rumbled. “Finally. Now tell me quickly, before my patience runs out-why did you call us here?”
“Yes, added Olmai, “tell us. I thought we had agreed not to meet in large numbers until the rebellion was well under way.”
“I thought the same,” spat Goradh.
“And I as well,” added Tichar.
Lomakh shook his head. Clearly, he had missed something. Or someone had.
“I did not call anyone,” he protested.
“What?” The council member’s brows converged over the bridge of his nose. “Then why are you here?” he asked.
Lomakh indicated one of the other conspirators with a tilt of his head. “I received a message from Kardem, summoning me. Though I must admit, it seemed strange to me at the time.”
Unarrh’s eyes narrowed. He looked from one of his fellow conspirators to another. “Someone is lying,” he said.
Li The Defense Force officers glanced at one another, hoping someone would step forward and tender an explanation. No one did.
The council member’s eyes opened wide. He cursed lavishly beneath his breath. “This must be some kind of trap,” Unarrh decided. “The best thing for us to do is-was
He was interrupted by a commotion in the corridor outside. A moment later, one of Unarrh’s house guards came hurtling into the hall. Then another. Both sprawled on the floor, unconscious, bleeding from the head and face.
The other guards, Lomakh observed, were nowhere to be seen. He could only conclude they had been neutralized as well.
Immediately, his hand went to his belt, where it expected to find his disrupter pistol. But of course, it was no longer there, so he had to settle for the ceremonial knife concealed in the back of his tunic.
Unarrh shot to his feet like a rearing s’tarahk. “What is the meaning of this?” he roared.
An instant later, the intruders entered the hall. First, a group of three, one of whom seemed vaguely familiar even in darkness. Then another group, cloaked and cowled like the conspirators themselves.
“Who are you?” Unarrh demanded. “By what right do you impose yourselves on my house?”
By way of an answer, a member of the first group stepped forward into the light from the braziers. Instantly, his features became recognizable. They wer e, after all, those of the honorable Gowron-son of M I rel and leader of the Klingon High Council.
Unarrh’s eyes took on an even harder cast. His voice was taut, commanding, as he addressed the council leader.
“I trust there is some meaning in this somewhere, Gowron. Because if there is not, you will regret barging in on me like this.”
The council leader scowled. “I assure you, Unarrh, I did not come here simply to annoy you.” He jerked his chin at the four who still stood in the darkness, their faces concealed by their hoods. “It was they who persuaded me. They claimed they had something to tell me-but would not reveal it except in your presence.”
Unarrh turned his gaze on the quartet. “And who are they?” he rasped.
All four of them pulled back their cowls. Then they joined Gowron in the circle of illumination.
Lomakh’s mouth went dry as he saw who had come calling on him. “Kahless …” he gasped.
The clone grinned fiercely. “Yes, Kahless, bac at from the dead. I seem to specialize in that, don’t I?”
Lomakh looked at the others, their faces revealed now as well. His mouth twisted with hatred and frustration.
The sons of Mogh, Worf and Kurn. And the human, the damned Arbiter of Succession-Picard of the Federation.
All alive. And from the look of things, undeterred in their pursuit of the conspirators. Lomakh grunted softly, wondering what would come next and how to play it.
“What interesting companions you have,” Unarrh commented, glaring at Gowron and choosing to ignore the others.
Kahless chuckled, indicating the Defense Force officers with a sweep of his arm. “I might say the same ofyouea”…he countered.
Unarrh’s lips curled back, exposing his teeth. With obvious reluctance, he turned his gaze on the clone.
“I will not tolerate your presence here much