Demands of Honor (11 page)

Yet his father was still as he lay on the table in the center of their home. Uncle and those who were closest to Adon and Gorath performed the departing ritual. When it was done, his uncle put a hand on Adon's shoulder as they sat. Adon was tempted to fall into his uncle's embrace and wait through the night with them.

When one of their people died, those closest to the family had the duty of keeping vigil to see the departed
off during the first night. The next day, there would be visitors to receive and then a burial. Of course, that was under normal circumstances, and what had happened here was far from normal.

And the danger that had claimed his father was far from passed and might well swallow the entire clan, if not their entire world. If Adon had his father's strength, he would be on his feet immediately setting the wrong right and getting his revenge.

He said a quick prayer to the man that had been his father and clan leader. No great wisdom came to him, but he found that he was able to stand—on what could only have been strength borrowed from his father. He looked at Gorath's still form and realized that the great man was gone. He might not have his father's strength, but he would have to make do with what he had.

The others looked at him expectantly, as if they had seen something on his face. Finally Uncle said, “What is it, Adon?”

“My father has been murdered.” Adon was surprised at the calm in his voice. He chalked that up to a parting gift from Gorath.

“The
quoth
are beasts,” Uncle said.

“It was not beasts that murdered Gorath.” Then Adon told the others what he had seen and what he now suspected.

“Gurn is capable of this, I am certain,” Uncle said finally. “But to move against him the way things are now, we need to be sure.”

“The green-skins' machines can tell us if the blood on my father's sword is a beast's or a man's,” Adon said. “I will go alone to the mine and find the truth.”

“You will go nowhere alone,” Uncle said as the six men around him rose.

“It will not go unnoticed. There will be talk if we all leave during the ritual,” Adon said.

“There has been much worse than talk here today, and there will be much worse yet,” Uncle said.

The men went quickly to their homes and retrieved their own
mek'leths,
and returned to Adon.

“We served your father. We will serve you,” Uncle said seriously.

There were nods of assent from the other men. It was absurd, of course. Gorath was a great man. Adon was simply his son and the one who happened to be left alive. Yet, the others were looking at him as if they were seeing some of his father in him. Well, Adon knew the truth, but he simply nodded his thanks.

“Adon!” a voice called out as a figure came running across the center of the village. It was Bethe who came to a stop in front of them, eyeing them seriously. She took particular interest in the swords they wore. “What are you doing?”

“For the moment, nothing,” Adon said.

Bethe raised her eyebrows at that but said only, “Gurn has called an emergency meeting of the clan leaders.”

“Not of
all
the clan leaders,” Uncle said. Technically, of course, Adon was the new clan leader, but that was simply too much to comprehend.

“He said he did not want to bother you in your time of grief,” Bethe said.

“Well, these are dangerous times. I will have to go to this emergency meeting,” Adon said, keeping his voice as even as he could.

“Adon, what are you really doing? What is really going on here?” Bethe wasn't the only one who had noticed Adon and his group outside. Villagers were peeking out from their homes. They all knew something was happening.

“Tell everyone to wait until I get back. I will explain then,” Adon said.

Bethe nodded and seemed to accept that, for which Adon was grateful. If they were lucky, Adon and his small circle would take care of Gurn and his men quickly and quietly. Then, when the crisis had passed, he could reveal all.

Heading for the meeting place, Adon felt his blood burning. Before the night was over, he would know the truth and he would have his revenge. But before they were halfway there, Adon heard someone approaching from behind. It was Bethe. When she was close enough, she said, “The villagers await your return and your news. You must know, they will follow the son of Gorath wherever his path leads.”

Looking down, Adon saw that Bethe was wearing a
mek'leth
of her own. He shook his head. “What are you doing?”

“I am following the son of Gorath wherever—”

He shook his head. “Return to the village.”

“No,” she said evenly.

“I thought you would follow me,” Adon said, frustration in his voice.

“I serve your interests, not your will,” Bethe said pleasantly.

“There is a difference?”

“Of course.”

“A small one I think.” Adon looked at the path ahead and realized that he had no time to argue with Bethe. In fact, he had a much larger battle to fight. And while he would have preferred to have her out of danger, he did need the help. He shrugged and continued toward the clan meeting place.

His blood began to call out a warning, and Adon walked faster, then trotted, then ran. The group burst into the meeting pit to see the surprised faces of clan leaders and their seconds. Most surprised was Gurn, who had a dozen men around him—all of them, Adon noted, armed with Orion pistols and swords.

“Young Adon, what are you doing here?” Gurn's voice was even, almost pleasant, and it took every bit of strength Adon possessed not to race forward and strike down his father's murderer. The guards would not allow it. It was not fear for himself that stopped him, but fear that he would fail. Adon vowed that he would have his revenge, even if it could not be at this moment.

“Why are you calling a meeting of the clans?” Adon asked, ignoring Gurn's question. Then Adon noticed that at four points surrounding the pit green-skin flying craft were hovering in the air. Father had taught Adon to pilot those craft, which were flying platforms with room for a single standing pilot with a large cannon mounted in the front. Gorath and Uncle had taken some of the craft from the Orions and used them in the battle to save the planet.

Now, four of Gurn's clan were standing on the vehicles that watched the skies, pointing out toward the surrounding woods. Adon noted with distaste that the pilots were wearing the Orion armored suits and helmets that covered their faces completely.

“You wear pistols and bring those green-skin weapons to our meeting place?” Adon did not bother to try to hide the challenge in his voice.

“I have just told the great leaders of our people that we are in grave danger. I would have summoned you, but I knew you were standing vigil with your father,” Gurn said, his voice and face losing none of their false pleasantness.

“I serve my father's clan, and if there is a grave danger, I will help deal with it,” Adon said.

“Very well. Before your father died, we were discussing an offer by the Klingons to talk with them and seek their further help and protection.”

“You would talk to the ones who tried to destroy us and the world beneath our feet?” Adon said.

“You are young and will learn that things are not always as they first appear. The Klingons have provided us with new information to prove that the humans are the ones who sent the green-skins here,” Gurn said. Before Adon could protest, Gurn continued, “Before your father died, we voted to turn the Klingons away, which we were content to do with Gorath's wisdom and strength to guide us. However, with Gorath dead, we must look to new places for security. So we will meet with the Klingons tomorrow and hear what they have to say.”

“No, my father has made his wishes clear,” Adon said.

“And he was very persuasive earlier, but things have changed and the clan leaders now speak with one voice.”

“Interesting that they all speak with
your
voice, Gurn.”

To that open challenge, Gurn only smiled. “Go home, young Adon. You have lost your father tonight and we
have all lost a great friend and a great leader. If you would take your father's place at our council, you will have to accept the will of the majority—as your father did.”

Adon cursed himself. He had come for revenge and found that, for Gurn, murdering Gorath was just the beginning. He was bringing back the people who'd tried to leave their world a dead pile of rocks—all for a few worthless crystals.

And for this confrontation, Adon had brought only a few clansmen with swords. He should have seen the danger and brought the green-skin pistols his father kept in the house. Then he could have killed Gurn before anyone could stop him. It was a mistake his father would not have made. Of course, Adon reminded himself, he was not his father. And now their whole people would pay for his error.

Still, there was hope. He could still redeem himself and put a stop to this madness. First he would have to get to the mine and use the green-skins' equipment to show his clan that it was Gurn's blood on his father's
mek'leth.
Then he could convince the other clans of Gurn's treachery. Yet he would have to work fast. The Klingons were coming tomorrow and he knew in his blood that all of the clans would have to be united to face them.

In disgust, Adon turned to his people and said, “Come, we have much to do.” Gurn said something as they left, but Adon was past hearing it. Soon they were racing to the mine. There, he knew, was the means to reveal the truth about Gurn as well as the means to defend their people.

When they arrived at the mine entrance, Adon was
surprised to see that the small group of his clansmen who were supposed to be keeping watch inside the mine were outside. “What is it?” he called out.

“Gurn's people came and … forced us out,” one of the women said. She had a wound on her forehead. In fact, most of them had minor wounds. She shrugged apologetically. “We fought, but they had pistols. They have told us that we will not be allowed back inside until it is safe. They spoke about a coming crisis.”

“There is, but it is one of Gurn's own making. I believe Gurn killed my father to bring the Klingons here.”

“What do you want of us?” the woman asked.

“For now, just stand with me. Let's see if Gurn's men have the courage to stand against Gorath's will.” Adon led the now larger group to the mine's heavy doors. A dozen of Gurn's clansmen were standing by, all of them wearing swords and about half of them carrying pistols.

“Stand aside for the son of Gorath,” Adon said.

“No,” one of the guards said. Their leader, Adon guessed.

“The mine belongs to all of our people. It was my father's will, it was the will of the council.”

“Gurn has given us orders. We must take charge for now,” the guard said.

“Nevertheless, stand aside.”

“We respected your father, his courage and his strength. But now he is dead and Gurn will lead all of our people. We do not wish to harm the son of Gorath, but we will kill you if we must.”

For a moment Adon considered fighting. He knew his people would fight beside him. The battle would be short and bloody—and would no doubt end in their defeat. He
cursed himself for failing once again. He should have come to the mine first, before Gurn could secure it. He had already suspected Gurn was a murderer. He should have seen this move coming as his father would have.

Turning, he led his clanspeople back toward the village. There was still a way to defeat Gurn's cowardly treachery. His father had faced worse odds against the green-skins and had prevailed.

And while he was not the man that his father was, he would have to become one, and quickly, or all of their people would likely perish.

CARGO VESSEL
B'ARDAQ

KLINGON SPACE

C
HRISTINE WOKE UP
with a start, having no idea how long she had slept. The Klingons had kept them in low light with no distinction between night and day. As soon as she woke, she got to her feet. The deck was cool and leeched away her body heat when she slept on the floor. She was still wearing the short nightgown she had thrown on before they had been attacked by the Klingons. All four of them were dressed for bed, not imprisonment in a small, cold cell on a Klingon ship.

Four of them.

There had been six. There should have been six, but Tomas had died in the attack. It was a miracle that they all hadn't been killed. The ship had nearly been torn
apart. She was no technician, but she had immediately seen that her father's prize would never fly again.

Still, incredibly, there had been five of them left alive, but Max had been injured. Christine had seen that one of his shinbones had broken and was protruding from his torn skin. He was also moaning and holding his stomach.

He did not moan for long.

One of the Klingons had kicked him to turn him over, examined him for a moment, then plunged a three-bladed knife into his chest. Christine's screams had earned her a hard blow to the face that cut the screaming short.

Other than murdering Max, the Klingons had not mistreated them. At least, the Klingons hadn't hurt them any more. Christine and the others had been beamed aboard this ship and quickly ushered into this room, a room just large enough that they could all lie down at the same time, if they did it carefully.

A few moments after Christine got to her feet, Alan woke, followed by Arleen and Cyndy. They tended to sleep and wake at the same time—their proximity made it virtually impossible to do anything else.

Looking down, Christine saw that the worms in the four bowls had stopped moving. Each day—at least Christine assumed it was each day—the Klingons brought them four bowls of worms. The word they used for it sounded like
gak.
But none of them had been able to eat the squirming meal. The next day, the worms would be dead and the Klingons would take them away and replace them with a fresh bowl.