MARTOK, SON OF URTHOG, did not consider himself to be of a sadistic bent. Yes, he would and could kill without hesitation or mercy, but only in battle or on the hunt. He never did so simply for the pleasure of inflicting violence.

Now, however, he strongly felt the urge to inflict pain on whichever being, sentient or otherwise, presented itself as he stood behind the desk of his personal chambers in the Great Hall. Also present, standing around his office, were Worf, Worf’s son, Picard, Picard’s first and second officers, and the focal point of Martok’s rage, the real Kahless. Or, rather, the real clone of Kahless. With so many copies of copies, it’s a wonder I don’t go mad. At least this one is flesh and blood.

When he’d received the communiqué from the Enterprise that they’d found Kahless, and that the deception was of the emperor’s own doing, the chancellor abandoned his original plan of welcoming him home in front of the entire High Council. He would confront Kahless personally before dealing with him in an open council session. He also asked Picard and his seniormost officers to beam down with Kahless; Picard, in turn, insisted that the Federation ambassador be present, a condition which Martok naturally had no difficulties with.

Glowering at the emperor with his one good eye, Martok channeled all his rage, all his anger, all his frustration into one word, spoken in a low, rumbling voice: “Why?”

“That is a complex question you ask, Martok. It is at the heart—”

Wincing and waving his arm in front of his face, Martok said, “Do not ply me with your tiresome aphorisms! It is not a complex question, it is a simple one. Why did you replace yourself with a hologram and go to Cygnet IV to pick flowers?”

Picard’s android spoke up. “Actually, Kahless was painting landscapes when the away team made contact with him.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Martok said witheringly, and marveled at Picard’s patience for not having this babbling creature disassembled.

Kahless said, “My reason was simple, Martok. I replaced myself with a holographic duplicate to see how long it would take you to notice.”

It became all the more difficult for Martok to restrain himself. Bile rose in his throat from the fury, tasting of that morning’s jInjoq bread. “This was a game to you? Our nations are on the brink of war because of your foolishness!”

“If that were so, I would offer my life up in exchange for dishonoring you and the empire with my actions—but it is not so, and you are fully aware of this fact.” Kahless started to pace Martok’s chambers, indicating Picard and his first officer with one hand. “I have spoken at length with Captain Picard and Commander Riker. They have informed me of the planet Tezwa, and of the seizing of the Federation embassy. Those are the events that have led to this state of affairs, not my deception.”

Worf said, “And yet, at least one of those events occurred because of you.” At the questioning glances of the others in the room, including Martok, Worf added, “The members of the terrorist group who seized the embassy did so in part because they obtained the knowledge that you had been replaced with a hologram.”

“Perhaps. But it no longer matters, for the point has been proven.”

Baring his teeth, Martok asked, “And what point might that be?”

“That my time has ended.” Kahless turned to look at Worf. “When I first appeared before you on Boreth,” he said, then turned to Picard and added, “and rode on your ship, I was told many times of how decadent the empire had become, and how I was desperately needed. And, after I became emperor, I saw that those words were true. The empire was divided by petty concerns and strayed from the path of honor.” He looked back at Martok. “But that was ten years ago. Few things in this life are sureties, but one thing that never changes is that things will change.”

Martok felt a growl build in his throat. “Another of your tiresome aphorisms.”

“Actually,” the android said, “that particular tiresome aphorism was not originally from Kahless, but from the Andorian philosopher Chasinthrof zh’Mai, from her book New Sun, Old Sun.”

This time, Martok felt less of an urge to rip the android to pieces. “Interesting. You’ve expanded your repertory of idiotic truisms, then, Excellency?”

“The point, Martok, is that the empire of today is not the same empire that was in sufficient disarray to lead Koroth and the others on Boreth to have me created. We have fought a great war against a mighty enemy and emerged triumphant. We have defeated all those who would oppose the path to honor, from Gothmara and Morjod to the Elabrej. We have restored the Sword of Kahless to its rightful place and the Order of the Bat’leth to its rightful purpose.” He looked at the others. “And we have a chancellor who does not put politics before honor.” Regarding Martok once more, he said, “If you wish a truism, Martok, then here is one: I am no longer necessary.”

Worf stepped forward. “Kahless, with all due respect, your work is not done.”

Reaching up to put a hand on the ambassador’s shoulder, the emperor said, “Worf, my good friend, I could live a thousand lifetimes, and the work for which I was created would not be finished.” Again, staring at Martok, Kahless said, “But our people needed a spiritual leader because the political power was in the hands of creatures to whom honor was at best a convenience, to be used or not at whim. Now, though, the High Council leads the way to honor, it leads the way to glory—and I am not needed.”

“Not needed?” Martok’s shout echoed off the walls of his chambers. “The alliance with the Federation is hanging by a thread. I have acquired more enemies on the High Council than I thought was possible to accumulate in four years. I have been forced to appoint a Federation ambassador who wants war almost as much as that special emissary who is attempting to win the Federation presidency. The—”

Kahless chuckled. Martok cut off his diatribe and had to use all his willpower to keep himself from strangling the emperor right there. If all these witnesses were not here, willpower might not be enough.

In a low voice, Martok slowly asked, “What is so funny?”

“You speak of politics, Martok. There will always be politics. But I was needed because politics had become more important than honor, and I think that even you must admit that that is no longer the case.”

Picard said, “Such things are cyclical, Emperor.”

“All things are cyclical, Captain. And if that cycle comes around to a point where I am needed again, then so be it.”

Silence then blanketed the office. Emotions roiled within Martok’s gut. His throat had gone dry, and he was desperate for a mug of bloodwine, but he could not drink now without offering the same to his guests, and he did not have a sufficient quantity for the task.

While the chancellor was flattered that Kahless considered him a strong enough leader that he made the emperor’s own function irrelevant, he did not appreciate being lied to or being a puppet in someone else’s game. He had enough of those feelings during the final days of the war. Gowron’s egotistical need to dishonor Martok as a means of dimming the latter’s popularity dictated his tactics against the Dominion, leading Worf to challenge him and install Martok as chancellor when he was victorious. Even now, four years later, he sometimes felt like a puppet on other people’s strings—the very thing Rov and his Klahb fools accused him of being.

Now Kahless was doing it again.

It was Riker who broke the silence. “What will you do now, Emperor?”

“My intention, Commander, is to return to the glade where you came upon me.” He smiled. “I have not yet completed the landscape.”

“That’s it?” Riker asked. “Just go back, and leave the empire without their emperor?”

“Millennia ago, the original Kahless united the Klingon people. When that work was done, he gathered his belongings and went to the edge of the city to depart. The people pleaded, saying they needed Kahless. But he said—”

“ ‘You are Klingons. You need no one but yourselves.’ ” Martok, Worf, and even Alexander said the words. It was from the Story of the Promise, a tale every Klingon was told practically from birth. Martok had few memories of his very difficult childhood that he could truly call happy, but one such was when his father told him many stories of Kahless on their first hunt together in the Ketha Lowlands. The hunting itself was poor, and the weather awful, but he still recalled old Urthog telling him stories all the night long, ending with the Story of the Promise.

“Those words,” Kahless said, “are as true today as when they were first spoken. Kahless left you then, and you flourished. I will leave you now, and I have no doubt that you will still flourish.”

Snarling, Martok asked, “And what are we to tell the people? I will not lie to them, but we cannot tell them the truth.”

Picard said, “The wisest move, Chancellor, would be to do neither. Condemn Rov and his terrorists as madmen, but neither confirm nor deny that Kahless has been a hologram for six months.”

“I will also address the people one final time,” Kahless said. “I will tell them what I have just told you—that it is time for me to once again leave our people. If I am needed again, I will return.” He grinned. “Or perhaps the true Kahless will.”

Martok shook his head. “I hope you are correct, Excellency.”

“Hope is the first step on the road to victory.”

“That,” the android said, “is one of Kahless’s tiresome aphorisms.”

Unable to stop himself, Martok burst out laughing. “Indeed it is, Commander, indeed it is. Very well, Excellency, if that is truly what you wish, it shall be done. You will address the people immediately—I will have no more accusations against our allies, nor will I let the empire be governed by rumor and supposition. You will participate in the vIt ’Iw tay.”

Picard and Riker both frowned. The former said, “I’m not familiar with that ritual.”

Before Martok could explain, the android said, “The vIt ’Iw tay is a ceremony whereby a being whose biological origins are in doubt is cut by at least six different warriors with their respective d’k tahgs in order to prove that the being is truly a Klingon. The ritual was created by the High Council shortly after Imperial Intelligence began surgically altering deep-cover agents to infiltrate the empire’s enemies. The council at the time feared that the tactic might be used against them, and so created the vIt ’Iw tay.”

Riker smirked. “I’ll bet that ritual was popular after we made contact with the Dominion.”

Martok licked his teeth. “No Founders were discovered that way, though many who were accused of being changelings were forced to participate.” Unbidden, the memories of being captured by the Dominion and put in a prison camp while a shapeshifting slime devil took his place as Gowron’s chief of staff returned to Martok. Shaking them off, he turned back to Kahless. “You will do this in open council with myself, three councillors, Captain Wovogh, and a commoner whom we will choose at random.” Wovogh was the first officer to one of the captains who fired upon the Starfleet supply ships near Tezwa. That captain was put to death for his effrontery and Wovogh promoted; Martok felt it important to have someone from one of the ships that believed the Federation had taken their emperor participate in the vIt ’Iw tay.

Nodding, Kahless said, “Of course.”

“Good.” Martok was about to declare the meeting ended when Alexander stepped forward.

“Excellency, can I ask you something—please?”

“Of course, Alexander. Questions are, after all, the beginning of wisdom.”

Yet another aphorism, Martok thought, shaking his head, stunned that the android hadn’t provided a full citation for it.

“Actually, it’s the same question the chancellor asked before: Why?”

“I gave my reasons for what I did.” Kahless sounded confused, which matched Martok’s own feelings. Wasn’t the boy paying attention?

“No, sir, you gave some reasons—and they’re good ones, and I’m sure it’s the best way to sell this to the people. But I want to know the real reason.” He pointed to his chest. “The one in here.”

Kahless threw his head back and laughed. “As ever, the son is but a smaller version of the father. Like him, Alexander, you use your words to cut directly into the heart without need for a blade.”

Worf said, “So there is another reason.”

“Yes, Worf, there is.”

This, Martok thought, should be interesting.

“I have grown weary of doing what I am supposed to do. I have served my purpose, and I have done my duty. Now is the time for me to be selfish. Now is the time for me to find my own path, not the path that the clonemakers of Boreth mapped out in my genetic structure. As I told Commander Riker on Cygnet IV, it is time I did what I wanted.”

Alexander grinned. “That’s kind of what I thought.”

“If we are quite finished baring our souls,” Martok said impatiently, “it is time we restored a bit of order to the empire.”

“Indeed it is, Chancellor,” Picard said. “With your permission, we’ll remain in orbit of Qo’noS until the emperor has concluded his business here. Then we shall take him wherever he wishes to go.”

Martok considered the captain’s words. “Your offer is appreciated, Captain, and you may remain in orbit as long as you wish—but I think it would be best if a Defense Force vessel bring the emperor to his new home.”

“Why not both?” Alexander asked.

Martok frowned. “I do not understand.”

“My son is correct,” Worf said. “It would be a more potent symbol if both the Enterprise and a Klingon ship—preferably a Chancellor-class vessel—escort Kahless together, as a sign of unity between our people.”

Unable to find a good argument against the suggestion, Martok said, “Very well. I believe the Ditagh is within the system. I will have Captain Vikagh report here immediately.”

“Grand,” Picard said.

Martok moved around from behind his desk toward the door. “Let us proceed, then.”

“It is the end of an era, Martok,” Kahless said, “but the beginning of a greater one, I think.”

Shaking his head as he approached the door, Martok said, “Somehow, Excellency, I knew you would not let this meeting end without one final aphorism.”