"Who?" McCoy asked. That for d.a.m.n sure doesn't sound like any Klingon name I've ever heard.

"The civilian freighter that was part of Malkus's fleet," Picard said. "They sustained heavy damage during the conflict."

"What the h.e.l.l was a Federation civilian freighter doing here anyhow?" McCoy asked.

Picard gave a half-smile. "They were providing marble for the Dominion War memorial that is being built on Narendra-in fact, it was the groundbreaking for that memorial that led to the artifact being unearthed."

"Figures," McCoy muttered.

"In any event, Admiral," Picard said, "I believe Klag is arranging for you and Dr. B'Oraq to travel to Qo'noS as soon as you're ready. The High Council doesn't like to be kept waiting," he added with a smile.

Snorting, McCoy said, "h.e.l.l, they're probably teed off that I made it through this alive. Now they're stuck with me giving them their lecture."

"Surely a fate worse than death," Spock said dryly. Turning to Picard before McCoy could reply to the jab, he said, "The arrival of yourself and Captain Klag was most timely. It was greatly appreciated, since eventually Amba.s.sador Worf and I would have succ.u.mbed-either to Malkus's thralls or to his telepathic attack when the mind-meld deteriorated."

"Your interference also gave us the opportunity to use our psilosynine wave, Amba.s.sador, so I'd say we're even."

"Actually, Captain, it was Aidulac who truly provided the distraction."

Picard's eyes widened. "Did she? Well, perhaps that will be a mitigating factor in her defense. In any case, you should be thanking Colonel Kira more than anyone. She was the one who led us here."

"Where is the colonel, anyhow?" McCoy asked.

"I believe she had some final business on the Gorkon."

Lokor sat at the desk in his quarters, reading over the daily reports from his guards. The reports were shorter than usual by dint of most of the Gorkon' s ground troops being on-planet. The biggest security headache on a ship this size was when the ground troops went for an extended period without actually being put to use. Of course, they had drills and exercises and tasks to perform, but unless they were off the ship and doing their jobs-which boiled down to fighting and dying for the Empire on a planet or base or enemy vessel-they tended to go stir-crazy.

And stir-crazy troops meant difficulties for the person in charge of maintaining order.

But Lokor had done his job well, he thought. The incidents were kept to a minimum-little beyond the usual maimings of daily life in the Defense Force. And, with the Narendra situation, a comparatively quiet day for a change.

His door chime rang. "Enter."

The door opened to the smell of adanji. At first he thought one of his deputies had confiscated some incense. He looked up to say that he didn't want that foul-smelling stuff in his quarters, when he saw that it wasn't one of his deputies, it was Vralk.

As if that wasn't bad enough, he was wearing not his uniform but the ceremonial robes of the House of Grunnil. A mevak dagger was holstered in his belt.

"What is it you want, boy?" Lokor asked, though he could guess the answer.

Vralk hesitated, then spoke in a solemn voice. "I have dishonored our family name-our House. I know that captain Klag will condemn me for my dishonorable actions, and so I wish to reclaim my honor in the next life. I have come for Mauk to'Vor."

Lokor stood up and walked around his desk. He was a full head taller than Vralk. He put his hands on the boy's shoulders and looked solemnly down at him Then he burst into hysterical laughter.

"Truly you are the biggest imbecile in a House of imbeciles."

Vralk looked like he'd swallowed dead gagh."You-you're not-" He shook his head. "You must fulfill my request to kill me honorably! It is your duty as my cousin!"

"And what of your duty to your ship? In case you have forgotten, boy, you got the first officer killed. A first officer, I might add, who was a great deal better liked by the crew than you. If by some miracle the captain does not have you killed, you still won't live to see your next duty shift."

"I-I don't understand." Vralk shook his head. "I have lived an honorable life. I have striven to be the best Klingon I know how to be. I do not deserve to go to Gre'thor!"

The sight of Vralk was pitiful, and Lokor couldn't help but laugh again. "If this is the best Klingon you know how to be, than it is preferable that you die quickly and make room for someone who can do it right." He shook his head and turned his back on his cousin. "Now get out of my sight-and take that odoriferous taHqeq with you."

Lokor waited until he heard the door open and the scent of the adanji faded from his nostrils before he turned around.

Then he sat back down at his desk and looked at his security reports.

Robert DeSoto stared at the Go board game. The replicator in his guest quarters on the Enterprise had been happy to provide one. It would have been equally happy to provide him with the stones, but DeSoto hadn't been able to bring himself to ask for that as well.

The door chime rang. "Come on in," he said.

The tall form of Will Riker stood on the other side of the door. DeSoto couldn't help but smile broadly. "Hey, Will. How's everything going?"

Riker came into the quarters, an equally broad smile on his beardless face. "That was going to be my question for you, Captain. After all, I wasn't mind-controlled by a ninety-thousand-yearold tyrant."

"Good point."

"Just by the way," Riker said, pointing at the Go board, "I've already warned the crew about you, so if you're planning to hustle anyone-"

"No, I'm not," DeSoto said, unable to keep his tone jovial. "In fact-honestly, this is the first time I've even looked at a Go board in a year and a half. Ever since Chin'toka." He sighed. "It's funny, the last time one of those Malkus Artifacts got dug up was five years ago. Since then, I've pretty much lost everyone who was on the Hood then-the only one who didn't die in the war or leave Starfleet is my old security chief, and he's got his own ship now. But the worst was losing Dina."

"She was your first officer?" Riker asked.

DeSoto nodded. "She actually used to beat me at Go."

"You're kidding."

At that, DeSoto did actually laugh, just from the sheer incredulousness in Riker's tone. "Yup. She went from a handicap to whupping my tail in less than a year. I've taught lots of people to play-including, if memory serves," he added with a look at Riker, "a young lieutenant commander who said he didn't like games where he couldn't bluff-but she was the only one who got to be as good as me. h.e.l.l, she was probably better."

DeSoto got up from the desk and walked over to the replicator. "You want anything?"

Riker shook his head.

"Water, cold." As the replicator provided the gla.s.s of water, DeSoto said, "The worst part is, she wasn't even supposed to still be on the ship. For Chin'toka, I mean. Her promotion'd come through, but her post, the Tian An Men, was still in the yard for repairs. She insisted on coming along for one last hurrah on the Hood." He took a sip of the water. "It was a last hurrah, all right. It's funny, she died the same way that first officer on the Klingon ship went. A plasma conduit blew, and the shrapnel would've shredded one of the junior officers. She knocked the ensign out of the way, took it all herself." He gulped down the rest of the water. "I haven't played Go since."

Riker didn't say anything for several seconds. Then: "You doing anything right now, Captain?"

DeSoto shrugged. "Just waiting for the Hood to show up and take me to a starbase so they can do my disciplinary hearing."

"I'm sure that'll be fine."

"Yeah." DeSoto sighed. "You know, Malkus sat in that artifact for ninety thousand years-and that Aidulac woman wandered around the galaxy for ninety thousand years waiting for him. That's a h.e.l.luva long time to basically do nothing. And you know what? I'm not going to be like that." He smiled. "How'd you like a game?"

"Much as I would love to humiliate myself before your Go prowess, Captain," Riker said with a grin, "I have another engagement. And I'd like you to join me."

Aidulac stared at the four walls of her cell.

Well, three walls, truly. The fourth was a forcefield.

She was no more concerned now than she was the last time she'd been put in prison after a defeat to Malkus. Her skills weren't what they once were, but she still had them. She would be able to escape.

The cries of the dead continued to haunt her. It had been ninety thousand years, and still the corpses that Malkus had created with Instruments she helped create would not leave her mind's eye.

Not to mention the corpses of her team.

A very large part of her thought that it was time to simply end it all. She'd waited for ninety thousand years, traveling the galaxy in a variety of ships waiting for the Instruments to be revealed and Malkus to be reawakened, only to fail utterly in her endeavor to destroy both Malkus and the Instruments once and for all.

On the other hand, she knew precisely where they all were now. And they'd already been stolen once....

Klag sat alone in his office, staring dolefully at the bottle of bloodwine and the six empty mugs on his desk, when the door chime rang. "Enter," he said.

Kira, Riker, Worf, B'Oraq, and DeSoto all came in.

"Ah, good," he said. "Come in, all of you."

The quintet gathered around Klag's desk. Klag himself remained seated, the others remained standing, even though there were two guest chairs. Klag suspected that they were all too polite to take a seat over one of the others. From Riker, DeSoto, and Kira he'd expect such-though the amba.s.sador was raised among humans, and the doctor studied with them, so they no doubt picked up bad habits, too, he thought with an internal smile.

"When she first came on board the Gorkon, Commander Tereth gave me this bottle of bloodwine. It was made by House Ozhpri."

Only DeSoto seemed confused-the others, even Kira and Riker, knew the name of one of the Empire's best vintners and looked suitably impressed. And at those looks, DeSoto seemed to guess what Klag meant, and he nodded.

"I asked her for what occasion she honored me with this bottle. She said when the time was right, I would know. Now she is dead, and while it is not the death I would have wished for so fine a warrior, she died in uniform. She died in battle. She died defending the Empire." As he spoke, he poured the bloodwine into each of the mugs, ending with the quote, "'In death there is victory and honor.'" He looked at each of them. "The time is right now. And you are the right people to share it with."

Klag held up a mug as he addressed each person without getting up from his chair. "Worf, son of Mogh, whose actions on taD enabled me to find an excuse to get rid of Drex, thus paving the way for me to bring Tereth to the Gorkon."

Worf nodded as he took the mug from Klag's outstretched hand.

"B'Oraq, daughter of Grala, who gave me a new right arm and helped me to restore my own family's honor, and to whom I never gave proper thanks. I thought I'd take this opportunity to do so before you are once again kidnapped by a ninety-thousand-yearold megalomaniac."

Laughing, B'Oraq accepted the mug and said, "An understandable precaution, Captain."

"Riker, my old comrade-in-arms-at last we have been reunited in battle, and been victorious. And we lived, giving us another chance to fight and die together."

Grinning, Riker took the mug. "Let's hope for lots of those chances."

"DeSoto, Riker tells me that you lost your own first officer during the war. He thought this would give you an opportunity to celebrate the releasing of her spirit."

DeSoto nodded and took the mug. "He thought right. Thank you-both of you."

"And Kira. As promised-the drink you and Tereth pledged to share."

"Thank you," the colonel said, taking the mug.

Klag raised the last mug and cried, "Raise your drinks! Today a new warrior enters Sto-Vo-Kor! May her battle be endless, her glory be eternal-and may we all join her in due course! To Tereth!"

Together, they all cried, "To Tereth!" Then they each gulped their bloodwine-Worf, B'Oraq, and Klag enthusiastically, Riker, DeSoto, and Kira somewhat more cautiously.

Klag felt the oily liquid coat his mouth and throat. It was a marvelous sensation-as one would have expected from Ozhpri bloodwine. It was the finest vintage he'd ever had.

Worf took a second gulp, finishing off his mug, then started to sing in a deep ba.s.s voice. "Qoy qeylIs puqloD. Qoy puqbe'pu'."

B'Oraq joined him for the next line. "yoHbogh matlhbogh je SuvwI'."

Klag threw his head back and bellowed out the next: "Say'moHchu' may' 'Iw. maSuv manong 'ej maHo-Hchu'."

Together, the three of them-joined here and there by Riker, DeSoto, and Kira, who obviously did not know the words, but got into the spirit as best they could-sang the rest of the Warrior's Anthem in Tereth's memory.

Klag drained the last of his bloodwine. "Thank you all, my friends. You have honored me with your presence, and honored Tereth as well-not to mention," he added with a look to DeSoto, "Commander Voyskunsky."

"It was my pleasure," Kira said.

"Oh, Colonel," Klag said, reaching into a drawer in his desk, "Tereth left something for you." He removed an optical chip and handed it to Kira. "A recording of 'The Battle for Deep s.p.a.ce 9.'"

Kira grinned and took the chip. "I look forward to hearing it."

Riker set his mug down on Klag's desk and looked at Worf. "We need to get back-we still have to get you to Khitomer."

"Yes. It is good to see you again, Captain," the amba.s.sador said to Klag.

"Qapla', all of you," Klag said.

They all returned the salutation: "Qapla'!"

With that, the four of them departed, leaving Klag and B'Oraq alone.

"Have you requested a new first officer yet?" B'Oraq asked.

"No," Klag said. "In truth, I fear for what Command will send me this time." He stared at the now-empty bottle. "We shall never see her like again."

"Perhaps," B'Oraq said. "Perhaps we will see better."

Klag threw his head back and laughed. "Ever the optimist, Doctor?"

"Naturally, Captain. I'm trying to improve Klingon medicine-if I weren't an optimist, I'd have given up years ago."

"An excellent point." Klag braced his hands on the arms of his chair and got up.

Then he stumbled to the right, not adequately compensating for his shorter right arm.

"Qu'vatlh!" he cursed in anger.

Malkus had been in the middle of excoriating the hapless Aidulac when he was interrupted.

His sensory input was, of course, limited to telepathic contact, but that contact included an entire world and beyond. Suddenly, without any kind of warning, that contact just stopped.

He no longer felt the presence of his p.a.w.ns.

Worse, he no longer felt the presence of the other Instruments.