The Jackal's Trick by John Jackson Miller

Author:John Jackson Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books/Star Trek

Thirty-three

THE GREAT HALL

QON’OS

“Thank you all,” Korgh said as he lingered before the gaggle of admirers and well-wishers in the atrium. “Remember what I have said. The valiant warriors of Spirits’ Forge deserved much better than to die at the hands of the Unsung criminals. I demand recompense for the damage to the sacred isle—and for the thousands of Selseress who died because of Starfleet’s bumbling torpedo disposal.”

He had made up the Selseress body count, but no one had called him on it. He closed as he always did lately, crossing his arms in what had become his signature pose of denunciation. “Everything the Federation touches goes wrong. We must remember how to stand on our own before they pull us down.”

“Praxis is past,” came the chant in response. “Praxis is past.” He nodded, smiling. The line had been part of one of his earlier jeremiads and had become quite the catchphrase. In three words, it symbolized an Empire ready to be great once more and solely in charge of its destiny.

Korgh’s security personnel extricated him quickly from the facility and escorted him across the street to his apartments. Less than an hour after his speech to the High Council, he was relaxing with a bottle and watching the coverage of his latest oratorical triumph. And it had been a triumph—for while an operational failure, Spirits’ Forge had gone far better than Korgh had hoped.

He’d known he wasn’t going to be able to prevent the H’atorian Conference; his influence had grown enormously in a short time, but not that much. Since the House of Kruge administered most of the frontier worlds affected, Martok had grudgingly respected his right to select the empire’s negotiating representative. Had he genuinely sought the conference’s success, Korgh certainly would have chosen one of his sons: Lorath, the eldest, or Tengor or Tragg, both of whom administered factories for the house.

Instead, he’d sent Kersh. And the Unsung, to kill her and ruin the conference. She’d survived, but it was her standing, and not Korgh’s, that had suffered. He’d heard the whispers from the other High Councilors: they’d chosen right in honoring his claim to the house.

The attack against the Romulans, while not something he had prescribed, had also worked in his favor. He hadn’t given Cross instructions to attack other guests at the event besides Kersh and the Federation’s attendees, but they had. The happy result was the series of messages on his padd.

An official notification from Martok that the Romulans had requested the right to join the Klingon and Federation forces hunting the Unsung in imperial territory. A backchannel communication from Tocatra directly to Korgh, asking him to advise the chancellor to agree with the plan, giving the Romulans a chance to save face. Even a plainly worded message from the Breen, who had slipped away with the Kinshaya just in time to miss the chaos: they wanted to attend the task force as observers, fearful of being left out.

A transformation was at hand in galactic politics, and he had created the waves.

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