Star Trek: ALL - Seven Deadly Sins (28 page)

Ignoring that barb, Sorkav said, “Who is this miner?”

“His name is Malvak.”

“If this Malvak believed that my judgment was in error, why did he not lodge a complaint, as per procedure?”

Qao had to restrain himself from laughing in Sorkav’s face. In the ten turns that Qao had worked at this mine, Sorkav had yet to acknowledge a single complaint lodged by anyone of lesser authority. And since his brother ran the mine and was the only person with greater authority, that meant that he did not acknowledge any complaints that didn’t come from Kobyk.

“Perhaps,” Qao said slowly, “he believed that the complaint would not be heard.”

“So instead he took matters into his own hands?” Sorkav shook his head. “Let me guess—this Malvak is
QuchHa’?
”

Qao nodded.

“That explains it, then.”

In fact, it explained nothing, but Qao wasn’t suicidal enough to say so. He’d already pushed his luck with Sorkav.

“Sir,” one of the guards said, “there is blood on the victim’s hands
that is not his own. Scans indicate that the blood belongs to Malvak, son of Jorq.”

“That’s hardly conclusive,” Qao said, indicating the jagged edges all around the cave, of rock and crystal both. “Miners get each other’s blood on them all the time.”

“True,” Sorkav said, “but it does at least support your theory. We will investigate further.”

Qao couldn’t help but notice that a DNA scan of blood on Gahlar’s person took considerably more effort than Sorkav’s people had put into their inquiry into Krov’s death.

Malvak stood at the front of the wardroom on the main asteroid, his hands and feet shackled, a guard on either side of him.

Also standing was Sorkav. Seated around the table were all the section chiefs from Site
wej,
with Kobyk at the head, facing Malvak. The white-haired Kobyk had a mug of
warnog
in his hand. Malvak had only seen Kobyk a few times, but every time, he had that damned
warnog
with him.

Sorkav was laying out the evidence against Malvak to Kobyk.

“Scans indicated Malvak’s blood on Gahlar’s body. The testimony of Section Chief Qao indicated several arguments between Malvak and Gahlar, due to Malvak’s belief that Gahlar was responsible for the death of a fellow miner.”

“His name was Krov!” Malvak cried. “And he was murdered by—
Aaaarrrrrrghhhhh!
” That last came at the application of a painstik by one of the two guards to Malvak’s midsection. He collapsed to his knees, then was yanked to his feet by the other guard.

“As I was saying,” Sorkav said with a sidelong glance at Malvak, before looking again at his brother, “this was corroborated by Section Chief Torad.”

Sweat dripping into his eyes, Malvak bared his teeth at Torad, who at least had the good grace to look away. Malvak belatedly realized that Torad was
’urwI’,
and not to be trusted. A pity he learned that lesson too late . . .

“It is therefore my recommendation,” Sorkav concluded, “that Malvak, son of Jorq, be put to death for the murder of Gahlar, son of Murak.”

Kobyk gulped some
warnog,
most of which went into his thick white mustache rather than his mouth. Then he nodded. “It shall be done.”

Sorkav turned to face Malvak, unsheathing his d’k tahg as he did so. Malvak noticed as the side blades unfurled with a click that they were rusty and poorly maintained. He also noticed that the hilt carried the emblem of a House to which Sorkav did not belong.

“And you say
we
have no honor,” Malvak said, blinking away more sweat.

Sorkav nodded at the guards, and this time they both applied their painstiks. Pain coursed through every cell of Malvak’s body. He screamed in agony as he again fell to his knees.

“Look at you,” Sorkav said with contempt. “You wail and perspire like an Earther instead of facing death like a warrior. I condemn you to die like the coward you are.”

Compared to the nerve-wrenching agony of the painstik, the sudden insertion of a
d’k tahg
between his ribs was hardly noticeable. But within moments, he felt the life drain from him.

He hoped he would be joining Krov in Sto-Vo-Kor.

The last thing he heard was Kobyk belching up his
warnog
and saying, “That should put an end to all of this.”

The
warnog
tasted wrong.

Kobyk, son of Goryq, sighed. This latest shipment had been dreadful. His supply chief had switched to a trader whose prices were much lower, and Kobyk now understood why.

Warnog
was the only thing that made Kobyk’s job bearable, and bad
warnog
just made everything worse.

He looked around his office. The space was functional, the decorations minimal. He had a rotating holographic image of his mate and children on one wall; an ancient
mek’leth
that had been forged for his House by Do’Ming in the time of Kahless, and which was still a fine weapon, on another wall; and a window that looked out onto the deep blackness of space. The next closest asteroid was many
qelI’qam
s away, too far to be seen with the naked eye.

But Kobyk preferred it that way. Asteroids were hideous things, just ugly masses of rock broken up by craters. He missed the lush grasslands of his home on Ty’Gokor.

He gulped more of the wretched drink. For all its poor taste, it still was alcohol, and Kobyk needed its bracing effects right now.

Sorkav was on his way in with a report. That meant bad news.

For many turns, Kobyk had run his mine quite efficiently. If there were problems, his chief of security dealt with it. Kobyk trusted his subordinates, and everyone who’d been in that position had done the
job well. Generally, Kobyk didn’t hear from the head of security unless there was a serious problem, and they were all good enough at their job that there were no serious problems.

At least, that
used
to be the case. Then he’d been forced to hire his younger brother.

Sorkav’s imminent arrival was the latest in a lengthy series of occasions on which he had had to report to the head of the mine, and Kobyk wasn’t at all happy about it. Leaving aside the fact that it meant yet another security problem that Sorkav had failed to fix, it also meant that Kobyk had to be in his brother’s presence.

Kobyk had never liked his younger sibling. Not when they were youths, and Sorkav would make pathetic attempts to steal Kobyk’s food. Not when they were adolescents, and Sorkav would make even more pathetic attempts to steal Kobyk’s women. And certainly not when they were adults and Sorkav was kicked out of the Imperial Guard in a corruption scandal.

Facing pressure from both their parents, Kobyk hired Sorkav to run security for the Beta Thoridar mine. Running the mine was a plum assignment for Kobyk, one he’d worked many years to earn. Being put in charge of its security was a good way for Sorkav to try to regain the honor he’d lost.

Which was fine by Kobyk as long as he didn’t have to
talk
to Sorkav.

The door to his office rumbled open, and in walked Sorkav. He had taken to carrying two painstiks on his belt of late, which made him look ridiculous.

“What do you want?” Kobyk said by way of greeting.

“There has been another shuttle malfunction.”

Kobyk snarled. “That is the third one this week!”

“The maintenance crew believes it is sabotage.”

“The maintenance crew’s grasp of the blindingly obvious is impressive,” Kobyk said dryly. “What are they doing to prevent further acts?”

“I’ve posted guards on all the shuttles, both when they’re in transit and in the bay. I’m also running constant scans on all engineering sections and interrogating everyone who has ridden the shuttles.”

“I’m fully aware of the proper procedure for ferreting out
saboteurs, brother—what I wish to know is what
results
have come from your work.”

Sorkav hesitated, which made Kobyk grab his
warnog.

“It would seem, brother,” Sorkav finally said, “that Malvak’s death has stirred the workers.”

Kobyk frowned. “Who is Malvak?”

“The worker who killed—”

“What, the
QuchHa’
you condemned last week?”

Sorkav nodded.

“What does
he
have to do with this?”

“Several of those I interrogated would speak only one phrase:
malvaq bortaS.
I have also seen that phrase scrawled on the walls of the habitats and the mines.”

Kobyk gave his brother an incredulous look. “Malvak’s death was perfectly legitimate. Why are these
petaQpu’
claiming revenge for him?”

Sorkav shrugged. “They are
QuchHa’.
Who could possibly understand how they think?”

“We’ve had enough problems meeting our quotas.” Kobyk slugged down the last of his
warnog,
then tossed the mug aside in disgust. “If this idiocy continues—”

The spine-shuddering report of a security alarm interrupted Kobyk. Pulling out his communicator, Sorkav said, “Report!”

One of his staff reported a moment later, barely audible over the sound of shouting and violence.
“A riot has broken out at Site
wa’!
We are attempting to pacify now!”

Kobyk immediately called up the security feeds for Site
wa’
on his terminal.

The cracking station was a giant facility that took large dilithium crystals and broke them down into smaller ones that would fit inside a ship’s engine. This particular station, and the two like it on the other two sites, were
Jorvok
stations: modular facilities that could be easily constructed, disassembled, and reconstructed elsewhere.

They were also about three decades out of date, having fallen out of favor following the revolutionary work done by the Science Institute. Most dilithium mines in the Empire used the Mark
Soch
model from the Institute.

Kobyk had worked on both systems, and found the Mark
Soch
to be smaller and easier to use, but also with a proclivity for breaking down on a monthly basis. Once you factored in the time that a Mark
Soch
was down for repairs, a
Jorvok
not only produced the same amount per turn, but also was easier for mining technicians to repair, without having to wait for the Institute to send one of their specialists along, since the design was proprietary.

The other advantage to using
Jorvoks
was that Kobyk could get them cheap, since they were rarely used, and his own people could effect repairs, so he didn’t have to pay the Institute’s exorbitant fees.

Of course, the station also was more difficult to operate. Initially, he’d assigned
QuchHa’
to them, but that had proven ineffective. Sorkav had been the one to suggest letting only
HemQuch
operate the station, and things improved somewhat.

Now, though, there were dozens of
QuchHa’
who seemed to have formed a skirmish line, and were throwing rocks and tools and any number of other objects at the Site
wa’ Jorvok.

Still holding his communicator, Sorkav ordered more security to the cracking station.

“What is that they’re shouting?” Kobyk asked as he tried to adjust the audio feed, but it just sounded like meaningless noise.

Sorkav bared his teeth in disgust. “That same phrase I just mentioned:
malvaq bortaS.
”

Now that Sorkav had said it, Kobyk was able to make out the phrase over the feed.

As for his brother’s security people, they were not having an easy time of it. Armed only with painstiks, they were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Within a few minutes, their numbers doubled as the reinforcements Sorkav had called for showed up.

“I warned you that this might happen!” Sorkav said with a snarl. “If my people had disruptors—”

Kobyk refused to engage in this argument again. “Do you know how much it costs to buy five hundred disruptors? Besides, the prospect of your people getting their hands on disruptors is not a pleasant one.”

“Their brutality is what makes them good security.”

“Yes, and as long as it remains brutality, all is well. But I prefer that
I be the only one to have the power of life and death over the workers I’m responsible for. As it is, my cost-cutting measures have only staved off the difficulties meeting the quotas. If this keeps up, we’ll be shut down!”

Sorkav’s reinforcements started to turn the tide, as the painstiks started to be effective against the crowd. Plus, once a good number of workers fell to the ground in agony, the others started to disperse.

Snorting, Sorkav said, “Typical
QuchHa’.
Backing down from a fight like cowards.”

Kobyk stared at his brother. “Why expect any different? It’s not as if they’re
Klingons.
In any case, brother, keep these
petaQpu’
in line. I will not have our production slowed by this!”

Kirrin felt his stomachs sink at the sight of the line leading to the shuttle.

He was already running late by virtue of the random search that had been performed of the barracks where he and the rest of his section slept. Kirrin had no idea what they were looking for, but whatever it was, they didn’t find it.

Now they were doing intensive scans of everyone who approached the shuttlebay. Which meant a line.

Kirrin had already missed the first shuttle to Site
wa’.
In retrospect, he wished he had skipped the morning meal. But without a
raktajino
in the morning, he was useless for the rest of the day, and the section chief didn’t especially appreciate that.

The person in front of him, a Klingon Kirrin didn’t recognize, muttered, “We’re going to miss the shuttle at this rate.”

“That won’t happen,” Kirrin said with confidence. “After all, they’re delaying us for the new security measures. They’ll delay the shuttle too.”

“Don’t be so sure,” the other Klingon said.

“What’s this all about, anyhow?”

Now the other Klingon turned around. He was
QuchHa’,
like Kirrin, with receding hair, a wispy mustache, and a long scar under his left eye. He was regarding Kirrin as if he were insane. “Haven’t you been paying attention?”