Star Trek: ALL - Seven Deadly Sins (31 page)

At least not yet.

Instead, she asked, “What constitutes contraband?”

“Anything that is not standard mining equipment. Writing implements used to spread the
malvaq bortaS
graffiti. Instruments used to sabotage shuttlecraft. That sort of thing.”

Jurva shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “What is the point of this?”

Targ frowned, an action that made his nose ring abut his upper lip. “What do you mean?”

“The miners know that you scan them when they enter the shuttlebay, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Then what is the point of it? This does not provide security for the mine, it simply provides the illusion of it. It would make far more sense to make the scans discreet and secret. Let the conspirators think themselves safe from scans.”

“Look,” the section chief said, “I just follow Sorkav’s orders.”

“Then Sorkav is an even bigger fool than I have been told.”

Targ laughed at that, and then so did Gonn and Goroth. “You will receive no argument regarding Sorkav’s intelligence form any of us,
be’H,
of that you may be sure.”

A loud siren pierced the air and caused Jurva to put her hands to her ears. Korya did likewise.

Again, Targ laughed. “Typical
QuchHa’,
having to protect their weak Earther ears. That is the end of the shift. Time to begin work.”

Gonn and Goroth took up positions near the far end of the entryway, and no doubt would patrol up and down the line that would soon form.

Korya walked up to Jurva. “I said the same thing,” he said in a small voice. Korya was quite short, only coming up to Jurva’s shoulder, and he looked like a child with a
ghIntaq
spear when he held his painstik. “I told the section chief that this wouldn’t create proper security, but he told me to be quiet.”

“I’m not surprised.”

Jurva ran her hand scanner over every Klingon—mostly
QuchHa’,
with the occasional
HemQuch
—who came through the checkpoint. She found only one item that she would classify as contraband: a
qutluch,
the weapon of a hired assassin. The miner was unconvincing in his claims that it had been in his family for generations.

Targ, however, was less fussy on the subject.

“Are you aware,” the section chief informed one worker, “that gold can be used to disrupt engine systems on our shuttlecraft?”

“That bone necklace,” he told another, “could easily be used as a weapon.”

“Did you really think,” he told a third, “that you would be allowed to carry a bladed weapon?”

Not wishing to disrupt the mining operations any further, Jurva waited until the final shuttle had taken off before she reached under the table and pulled out the container that was filled with the confiscated items. She pulled out the medallion he had taken off the first worker. “Tell me, Section Chief, what is the method by which one can use an incredibly valuable gold medallion encrusted with gemstones to disrupt engine systems?”

Looking as if someone had fed him dead food, Targ said, “Our shuttle’s engines are—”

“Your shuttle’s engines, Section Chief, are standard Type
wa’maH Hut.
They cannot be in any way harmed by the introduction of gold—or gemstones, for that matter—into their systems.”

“Are you accusing me—”

But Jurva refused to let him speak, instead taking out the bone necklace. “How, precisely, is this bone necklace to be used as a weapon, Section Chief?”

“Those bones have sharp edges that—”

Jurva reached out and grabbed Goroth’s wrist and yanked him toward her. She would have grabbed Targ, but he was on the other side of the table and too far away. In turn, she applied several of the edges of the bones to Goroth’s finger, hard. None of them even broke skin.

“Sharp edges,” Jurva said after her demonstration, “that can do no harm whatsoever. Oh, and before you mention the possibility of using it as a garrote . . .” Jurva wrapped the necklace around her own neck and tightened it, causing the thin rope to break in two. “But, of course, these are
maS
bird bones. Very rare, very valuable—but not very dangerous.”

“Enough! I will not stand here and be—”

“Embarrassed? I haven’t even gotten to the ’bladed weapon,’ which is simply a rusty old
d’k tahg
with no emblems. He couldn’t pick his teeth with it.”

She stepped around the table, staring right at Targ, who couldn’t hold her gaze, the coward.

“You are pathetic, Section Chief, and not even worthy to be named for an animal.”

Now Targ sputtered. “How dare you! I will not stand here and be
insulted by some filthy
QuchHa’
who thinks that wearing a child’s uniform gives her leave to insult—”

Again, Jurva did not let him finish speaking, choosing instead to slap his face with the back of her hand. “I challenge you, Targ, son of Targ. You are unworthy to continue in your position as section chief.”

For several seconds, Targ just stared at her.

Then he threw his head back and laughed so hard his nose ring shook. “This isn’t your oh-so-precious Defense Force,
QuchHa’.
Your pathetic challenge carries no weight here!”

He turned his back on her to face Korya. “Where does this stupid
be’H
get the idea that she can challenge
me?
”

Jurva snarled and unholstered her disruptor, pointing it at his back. “Turn and face me,
petaQ
!”

Targ turned around. “There’s no need for that,
be’H,
” he said, suddenly sounding much more subdued while staring at the beam end of a disruptor.

“You’re right.” Jurva lowered the disruptor and grabbed the qutluch that they’d confiscated—the only legitimate seizure they’d made. “Duels should be fought with blades.”

“Yes, well, pity I don’t have one.” Then he lunged forward with his painstik.

Jurva dodged the lunge with the greatest ease, slashing behind her. The blade of the
qutluch
tasted blood from the section chief’s side.

Before he could regain his footing, Jurva was able to grab his nose ring and yank his head downward into a knee kick that shattered his jaw.

Then she plunged the
qutluch
into his heart.

“This is
outrageous
! I want this woman put to death!”

Sorkav was waving his arms as if he had gone mad. Kobyk wasn’t entirely sure that his brother hadn’t.

They were standing in his office. Kobyk sat behind his desk, with a
warnog
clutched in his hands and Sorkav gesticulating wildly at his side. Facing them were Captain Kang and a
QaS DevwI’
named Morglar, along with the subject of their discussion,
Bekk
Jurva, a female subordinate of Morglar’s who stood respectfully behind her superiors.

At least, she stood there until Sorkav’s outburst. At that, the
bekk
stepped forward. “My challenge was
proper
! That
yIntagh
was—”

Morglar turned to face Jurva. “Be silent,
Bekk
!”

Jurva lowered her head. “Yes, sir.”

Kang glowered at Kobyk, which led the supervisor to clutch his
warnog
mug even more tightly. “What is the basis of your brother’s absurd desire to take the life of one of my warriors?”

Kobyk tried to form an answer, but Sorkav snorted before he could. “Warrior? Pfah!”

Giving his brother a sidelong glance, Kobyk snarled, “Sorkav, be silent!”

Pointing at Jurva, Sorkav cried, “She killed a
Klingon
! That cannot go unanswered!”

Morglar said, “She
challenged
a fellow Klingon.”

“There was no basis for a challenge. This isn’t a Defense Force base, it’s a mine—”

Kang interrupted. “Which is currently under the purview of the Defense Force. Jurva’s challenge was legitimate. Any attempt to take action against her by anyone other than the victim’s family will not be tolerated.”

“How do you know the challenge was legitimate?” Sorkav asked angrily. “Were you there?”

Morglar said, “Jurva gave me
her
word. That is all that is required.”

“You believe her word over that of a
Klingon?
”

“Enough!” Kobyk cried, having grown weary of this idiocy. He had remained silent in the hopes that Sorkav would be sensible. A lifetime of experience with his brother had indicated otherwise, and he should have known better. “Captain Kang may not have been there, but security feeds recorded the entire incident.” Kobyk turned the small monitor on his desk toward Sorkav, which showed the
bekk
backhanding Section Chief Targ. “I have already reviewed the incident. The bekk’s challenge was legitimate, and the section chief’s death was earned in battle. The matter is closed.”

“Good.” Kang said that word in a low, dangerous tone that drove Kobyk to gulp down large quantities of
warnog.

Morglar turned to Jurva. “Return to your duties,
Bekk.
”

“Yes, sir,” Jurva said smartly, gave Sorkav a rather venomous look, then turned on her heel to leave.

Kang continued to glare at Kobyk. “My time will not be wasted in this manner again.”

With that, he left, Morglar behind him.

As soon as the door slid shut behind the
QaS DevwI’,
Sorkav exploded. “How could you side with
that
against your own brother?”

“Easily.” Kobyk slugged down the rest of his
warnog
before continuing. “Primarily because they were right and you were wrong.”

“How
dare
you! Is this what it has come to? You accept the word of
QuchHa’
over me?”

“No,” Kobyk said with as much patience as he could muster, “I accept the evidence of my own eyes and the word of warriors in the Defense Force.” Before Sorkav could start another rant, Kobyk rose to his feet and pointed to the door. “Get out of my office, brother.
My
time will not be wasted, either!”

Sorkav snarled and stomped out of the office.

Kobyk walked to the sideboard, which was situated against one wall, under the Do’Ming
mek’leth.
He poured himself some more
warnog
and wondered how long it would be before someone from one of the three ships challenged Sorkav.

If that day came, Kobyk would be cheering for Sorkav’s opponent to achieve victory.

Korax had never had much use for engineers. They were whining, tiresome creatures who always had technical excuses for not following orders. During that incident on K-7—that cursed place—Korax had picked the fight with the
Enterprise
crew mainly because their chief engineer was present.

That engineer had retaliated by beaming hundreds of tribbles into the
Gr’oth
engine room. Korax had vowed that he would avenge himself on the Earther Montgomery Scott for that outrage.

So when Korax came into Koloth’s cabin for his orders, he was disheartened when his captain said, “Your task, Commander, will be to supervise Lieutenant Paibok’s work on repairing the mine’s atmospheric dome.”

Ever the good soldier, Korax said only, “As you command.”

Koloth smiled. “I know how you feel, Korax. Personally, I find engineers to be as tiresome as you do. Your task is of greater import than observing Paibok’s minions. The rabble may attempt sabotage of the repairs. You’re to be on guard for them.”

Where Koloth’s smile was his usual insincere one, Korax’s was wide and genuine. “It will be my pleasure, sir.”

“Oh, and Korax? Do try to leave at least one of them alive for questioning. This mission will go far more smoothly with
proper
intelligence, not just Supervisor Kobyk’s conjectures.”

Korax nodded his head in acknowledgment and proceeded to the transporter bay.

Unfortunately, there was very little evidence of saboteurs and quite a bit of annoying engineers making excuses. To make matters worse, it wasn’t even Paibok, but rather the mine engineers who were causing the problems.

Mostly, Korax was able to ignore it, but when a shouting match arose between Paibok and the mine’s head engineer, a
QuchHa’
named Kly’bn, he found it necessary to intervene.

“What is going on here?” he asked in a voice that cut through the argument.

Both men spoke at once in an incoherent babble.

“Be
quiet
!” When they both became quiet, Korax looked at his subordinate. “Chief Engineer Paibok—report!”

“This
petaQ
refuses to implement my repair schedule!”

Kly’bn bared his teeth. “That is because your repair schedule is idiotic! We have a four-shift rotation—”

“Which makes poor use of the personnel available to you!”

“I only have twelve people!”

“No, you brainless
toDSaH,
you have thirty with my engineers, and they are more efficiently used on a
three
-shift rotation—”

“Your engineers are not trained on my equipment! I’ll need to waste countless hours training them to—”

“Enough!”
Korax was about ready to rip his own beard off his chin. “If I wished to listen to the mewlings of old women, I’d have stayed home on Qu’Vat!” He fixed his gaze upon Kly’bn. “You
will
do as Lieutenant Paibok says, or I will kill you and have Supervisor Kobyk assign someone who will do as Lieutenant Paibok says.” Turning his gaze upon the chief engineer, he added, “And if I hear you two arguing again, I will kill you
both
!” He shook his head. “Now go do whatever it is you’re
supposed
to be doing!”

Kly’bn snarled at Paibok. “I was
going
to repair the plasma manifolds, then replace the topaline injectors.”

“And I
told
you,” Paibok said with a snarl of his own, “that I can do one of those tasks.”

“Our plasma manifolds are very particular—”

Paibok rolled his eyes. “They’re standard-issue
ret
manifolds—or,
at least, they were standard issue during the Second Dynasty.” Looking at Korax, he added, “This mine is filled with ancient equipment. It’s a wonder any of it runs. However, I was trained on
ret
equipment as a child—that was all we had on Forcas III.”