Hell's Heart by John Jackson Miller Page A

legacy.”
    â€œBut he found none?”
    â€œMmm. It is not relevant now.” The old Klingon turned away from the mountain and began pacing the circle. “When their hirelings soundly defeated the officers, the nobles depicted them as false friends of Kruge’s, seeking to rob his corpse. When that was actually their intent.”
    Picard found it all dizzying. He regarded the columns, where he could no longer make out the names inscribed beneath. A small mercy. “How could this have remained a secret for all these years?”
    â€œThere is an old proverb which I believe is present in every language in the galaxy,” Galdor said. “ Money talks .”
    And if people want to remain rich, they say nothing , Picard thought. Lights appeared above as the braziers atop the columns lit automatically. There was no more time to let the situation sink in. But he had no idea what to do. “This is . . . a predicament.”
    â€œThese are the facts we face, Picard. And if the moral leader of the Klingon Empire knows them, I can only imagine what he’ll say.” Galdor looked back at the central rostrum atop Kahless’s waiting area and took a deep breath. “No, there is no need to imagine. The emperor will pass judgment. A judgment long overdue. And back home, the whole Empire will see it.”
    Picard studied him. “You sound as though you don’t mind if that happens.”
    The gin’tak ’s face froze. “Of course I mind. Protecting the house is my job. But I cannot say I never thought this a possibility. Klingons are not Romulans. Secrets are not our breath and blood.”
    â€œBut . . . you knew. Galdor, if the nobles were acting in a way detrimental to the house, didn’t you have recourse as house steward?”
    â€œYou speak of ya’nora kor .”
    â€œYes.” Years before, Picard remembered, the House of Mogh’s gin’tak , K’mtar, had invoked the rite over the issue of Alexander’s schooling.
    â€œI could not call out one heir as venal without accusing them all. I could not destroy the house to save it—and so I lived with their lies. And that is my shame.”
    Picard’s combadge chirped. He touched it. “Picard here.”
    Å mrhová reported from the security station, just outside the Circle of Triumph. “We’re ready for Enterprise to send down the guests, sir.”
    â€œVery good. Picard to Enterprise , are the nobles ready?”
    Chen’s voice responded. “They are, sir.”
    He looked at Galdor, who silently nodded and turned away. “Thank you, Lieutenants,” Picard said. He straightened, resolved to accept what came. “Make it so.”

Ten
    G amaral had been a Federation world for decades, but a newcomer would be forgiven for thinking otherwise this night. The braziers atop the columns of the Circle of Triumph burned proudly, giving the appearance of a glowing island amid the untamed forests. At the circle’s center, a warm breeze blew at the Klingon banners draped beneath the rostrum. Around the perimeter, troughs of superheated stones bathed thirteen honorees’ platforms with orange light.
    The older nobles stood as best they could. The younger ones stood proudly, living statues to be admired by their guests and the countless Klingons back in the Empire watching the event via live comms. They had sung songs of their victory and of the glory of Commander Kruge. They had heard their gin’tak read a proclamation from Chancellor Martok, celebrating the may’qochvan and the success of their house.
    And they even tolerated Picard, who, at Galdor’s invitation, walked around the plaza addressing the assembly on behalf of the United Federation of Planets. Yes, Gamaral was a Federation world now, but no interstellar border could part the near-century-old friendship between the Federation and the Empire. The captain had rewritten his