Dragon's Honor Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  Visit us on the World Wide Web

  http://www.SimonSays.com/st

  http://www.startrek.com

  Copyright © 1996 Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.

  STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures.

  This book is published by Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc., under exclusive license from Paramount Pictures.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  ISBN: 0-7434-2141-8

  POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  Captain’s log, stardate 47146.2. Following orders from Starfleet, the Enterprise is en route to Pai, throneworld of the insular and enigmatic Dragon Empire. Until recently, the humanoid inhabitants of the Empire have avoided any direct contact with the Federation and other civilizations. All previous negotiations and attempts at diplomatic relations have been conducted via subspace communications. It is my understanding that my crew and I will be the first outsiders to visit Pai in over a dozen generations. . . .

  “CAPTAIN PICARD,” DATA ANNOUNCED abruptly. “Sensors detect a large vessel approaching the Enterprise at warp speed.” Seated at his bridge station, the golden-skinned android inspected the data flowing into his monitors. His fingers deftly manipulated the sensor controls. “It is on a direct intercept course,” he confirmed.

  Jean-Luc Picard leaned forward in the captain’s seat. He had not expected a welcoming party so soon. The Enterprise was still several dozen light-years from the Dragon Empire, and the Pai, he knew, rarely if ever ventured beyond the borders of their own solar system. Indeed, there was some question as to whether the Empire possessed warp capability at all. “Mr. Data,” he asked, “can you identify the vessel?”

  Data did not look up from his console. “I believe so, Captain,” he responded. “Preliminary readings suggest that the vessel is a G’kkau warship, approximately seven and a half years old, possibly of the S’sssr’ss class, with a crew complement of roughly one hundred and fifty-five G’kkau raiders.” Data paused for a second and peered more closely at his sensor readings. “Further analysis is required before I can give you a more exact answer to your question.”

  “That’s more than enough, Mr. Data,” Picard said. He glanced around the bridge. With the exception of Geordi and Beverly, who were at their posts in Engineering and sickbay, respectively, all his senior officers were on hand. The only new face was at the conn: Lieutenant Tor, a young Andorian who had recently transferred over from the Nisqually. Along with the others, she awaited his orders. First things first, he thought. He wasn’t sure what the G’kkau were up to, but he had no interest in playing chicken with another starship at warp speed. “Shields up,” he commanded. “Slow to impulse.”

  The Enterprise immediately dropped out of warp drive. As always, Picard thought he could feel the starship decelerate beneath his feet, but he knew the sensation was purely psychological. Human senses were not designed to register the transition from faster-than-light travel to mere sublight speeds.

  Seated at his right, Will Riker let out a grunt. “The G’kkau,” he said, scowling beneath his neatly trimmed black beard. “What are those butchers up to now?”

  “I don’t know, Number One,” Picard said, “but I intend to find out.” His mind quickly reviewed what he knew of the G’kkau. The reptilian conquerors had long been a threat to peace in a neighboring sector of the galaxy. Ever since achieving starfaring status several centuries ago, the G’kkau had systematically pillaged many weaker and less advanced species. They were little better than a race of pirates, really, and no genuine menace to the Federation, the Romulans, or any of the galaxy’s known superpowers, but Picard had heard many horror stories of the atrocities the G’kkau had inflicted upon unsuspecting peoples and planets. The massacre on Snokomie IV, during which an entire race of intelligent avians was executed and consumed, was only the freshest and most memorable example to come to mind. Starfleet had feared the G’kkau might have designs on the Dragon Empire. Could they be making their move already? If so, Picard realized, then his mission was even more urgent than he had assumed.

  “Mr. Data,” he asked. “What is the status of the G’kkau ship?”

  “It has come to a full stop, Captain, directly between us and Pai.”

  That cannot be a coincidence, Picard thought grimly. “Weapons, Mr. Worf?”

  The Klingon security officer stood at his station above and behind Picard. Beneath the bony ridges of his forehead, dark eyes smoldered with barely banked fire. “The warship is fully shielded, Captain, and its phaser banks are armed.”

  “Hail the other ship,” Picard ordered. “Onscreen.” If worst came to worst, he thought, the Enterprise could handily defend itself against the alien vessel in an all-out battle. He had never personally encountered the G’kkau before, but Starfleet intelligence suggested that their weapons were not quite up to Federation standards. Still, intelligence reports had been wrong before, and Picard didn’t feel like taking any unnecessary risks, especially since the nearest reinforcements were several days away. In any event, he always preferred to try diplomacy first.

  “The G’kkau are responding to our hail,” Worf stated. Picard thought he heard a rumble of disappointment in his security officer’s deep voice; no doubt the Klingon had looked forward to a glorious battle. Then a visual transmission appeared on the bridge’s main viewer, replacing the starfield that had previously been displayed there. Picard sat up straight in his chair as he got his first look at one of the occupants of the other ship. Seated at his left, Counselor Deanna Troi let out an involuntary gasp. Was she reacting to the G’kkau’s appearance, he wondered briefly, or had her empathic senses alerted her to the G’kkau’s hostile intentions?

  “Counselor?” he inquired in a low voice.

  “Aggression,” she whispered. “Pure, undiluted aggression.”

  “I see,” Picard said. Staring at the face that had materialized on the viewer, he understood her reaction perfectly. Distinctly reptilian, the alien being somewhat resembled a Gorn, except that the G’kkau seemed even less humanoid. Iridescent green scales glittered over its exposed head and shoulders, which took up most of the screen. A long, flat snout, much like a Terran crocodile’s, protruded from the creature’s skull. Pendulous dewlaps hung from the G’kkau’s throat. A pair of yellow eyes, marked by thin black pupils, were lodged above the origin of its snout, beneath a sloping, scaly brow. A transparent third eyelid blinked rapidly over the G’kkau’s lizard-like eyes; the nictitating membranes seemed to flash, as if in Morse code, an unending message of warning and hostility. Picard could not see the rest of the G’kkau’s body, but from the placem
ent of its shoulders he guessed that it routinely traveled on all fours rather than erect—assuming, of course, that it had merely four limbs. At the moment, Picard could not recall the specifics of G’kkau anatomy; he made a mental note to himself to consult the Federation’s biological database as soon as it was convenient.

  “I am Master Kakkh of the Fang,” the being on the screen declared. The ship’s Universal Translator gave Kakkh’s voice a masculine timbre. “What are you doing in this sector?” Rows of sharp, serrated teeth clacked together as he spoke; evolution had clearly provided the G’kkau with the deadly jaws of a carnivore. Picard called on his Starfleet training, and years of experience dealing with all manner of sentient entities, to suppress the instinctive foreboding that the sight of those ferocious fangs instilled in him. Both humans and Klingons, he reminded himself, had evolved from predator species, and yet both peoples had proven themselves capable of acting in a civilized manner . . . even if, Picard silently conceded, Klingons had a somewhat different idea of what constitutes civilization. He hoped the G’kkau could do the same, despite the grim record of the past few centuries.

  “I am Jean-Luc Picard,” he began, a stony expression upon his face. “Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise, representing the United Federation of Planets.”

  “We know you, Enterprise,” Kakkh said harshly. A forked tongue flicked in and out of the G’kkau commander’s snapping jaws. The cabin behind Kakkh was dimly lit by human standards; Picard glimpsed only shadows and swirling, purple mists. “What are you doing in this region?”

  “I might ask you the same question,” Picard said. He rose from his chair and strode to the front of the bridge, stepping closer to the viewer.

  “The affairs of the G’kkau are none of your concern, human,” Kakkh said contemptuously, dimming Picard’s hopes of peaceful negotiation—and confirming the worst suspicions of his gut instincts. Never smile at a crocodile, he thought, remembering an old Earth song.

  “They are if your intentions endanger the people of the Dragon Empire,” Picard answered him, opting for the direct approach. Given Kakkh’s belligerent attitude, there appeared to be no point in mincing words. The sooner he determined the G’kkau’s true intentions, the better.

  “The Pai do not belong to your foolish Federation yet,” Kakkh said, swishing his tail. The tip of the heavy, green appendage swept across the screen, behind Kakkh’s fearsome visage. “You have no place here, and your mission is doomed to failure. If you are wise, you will return to your own space at once.”

  “Is that a threat, Master Kakkh?” Picard said, scowling. The G’kkau clearly knew more about the Enterprise’s present assignment than Picard would have liked. This encounter was definitely no accident. Still, Kakkh was deluding himself if he thought Starfleet would back down so easily. Picard could feel Worf’s presence at the weapons station; he did not need to look back over his shoulder to reassure himself that the Klingon was ready and willing to defend the Enterprise if necessary.

  “The G’kkau do not threaten, human,” Kakkh said. “They strike. Consider my words a warning, and heed them.”

  “If you know as much of our mission as you imply,” Picard replied, “then you know how important its outcome is to both the Federation and the Dragon Empire. While I appreciate that you may have your own . . . interests . . . in this region, we fully intend to continue our journey to Pai, and to conclude our business there.” He stared at Kakkh, hoping that the reptilian commander could read the determination in his expression and his posture. “At the moment, your vessel obstructs our course for Pai, but we can and will go around you if necessary.”

  Kakkh did not reply immediately. A long silence ensued during which the cold, unreadable gaze of the G’kkau never left Picard’s face. The steady winking of Kakkh’s inner eyelids ticked off the seconds as regularly as a metronome. What was Kakkh thinking, Picard wondered. With a discreet wave of his hand, he signaled Worf to mute the audio component of their transmission. “Counselor?” he asked Troi.

  “I detect definite hostility, Captain,” she answered, “and perhaps a measure of anxiety, but I cannot be sure. His emotions and body language are quite alien to me.”

  “Will he attack, do you think?”

  “I’m sorry, Captain. I can’t be positive.”

  Picard sighed and signaled Worf to restore sound transmission. There were times he wished Troi’s empathic abilities were more precise, but, in the long run, he was glad she never pretended to an infallibility she did not possess. Empathy was an art, not a science; even full Betazoids had been deceived on occasion.

  Suddenly, with neither a farewell nor a final threat, Kakkh’s image disappeared from the viewer. A starfield replaced the lizard’s head and shoulders; in the distance, Picard spotted a glittering, metallic object that was probably the Fang. Even the name of their ship was threatening, he observed. “Transmission cut off at the G’kkau’s end,” Worf reported promptly.

  “Their communications manners leave something to be desired,” Picard commented. He took his seat in the captain’s chair. “Keep a watch on that ship.” What was Kakkh up to, he wondered; could the G’kkau be so ferocious—and so foolhardy—as to launch a full-fledged assault against a Galaxy-class starship? “Full magnification on the screen,” he ordered. “Let’s get a look at them.”

  The tiny metal dot on the viewer expanded instantly, transforming into the unmistakable form of an alien spacecraft. The Fang, Picard noted, actually resembled its namesake. Curved like a scimitar, the ship was wide and cylindrical at the rear, where he guessed the main engines were, then tapered to a sharp point at its prow, which glowed with a constant ruby radiance. The rest of the ship, like the G’kkau themselves, was a bright, opalescent green. From the Enterprise’s current orientation, the blood-red tip of the Fang appeared to point downward, as though poised to strike.

  “Their engines are powering up,” Data informed him.

  Picard kept his attention at the Fang’s glowing point, where he guessed the ship’s primary weapons were lodged. “Stand by, Mr. Worf,” he said. Phasers, disruptors, photon torpedoes . . . who knew what kind of venom could spit from this Fang?

  “I don’t like the look of this,” Riker said gruffly.

  “Neither do I, Number One,” Picard agreed. Not for the first time, he wished Starfleet had given him more time to prepare for this assignment. He should have studied and anticipated the tactics of the G’kkau. “Lock phasers on target, Mr. Worf.”

  “Done,” the Klingon said instantly.

  “The ship is moving,” Data told him. Picard saw a flash of crimson light at the rear of the Fang. He leaned forward, his body tense. Then, to his surprise, the ship spun horizontally on its axis, turning its back to the Enterprise. Red-hot, the flat, circular stern of the G’kkau ship glowed as if afire. The Fang shot away from the Enterprise, its image shrinking on the viewer as the ship disappeared into the distance. “The G’kkau are retreating rapidly,” Data confirmed. Picard let out a deep breath, but not so obviously as to concern his crew.

  “What was that all about?” Riker wondered aloud.

  “Kakkh blinked,” Picard said, remembering Kakkh’s nictitating membranes, “in more ways than one.”

  “They are cowards and without honor,” Worf said, pronouncing judgment on their entire species. Doubtless he regretted a missed opportunity to test his martial skills against the G’kkau.

  “That may be, Mr. Worf, but I suspect we have not heard the last of Kakkh and his ilk. Cowardice does not rule out cunning and ambition.” Picard watched the red glow of the Fang’s engines grow smaller and smaller until finally it vanished from view entirely. “Mr. Data, can you track the course of the G’kkau vessel?”

  “I am trying, Captain,” the android said, “but its apparent destination is the Dragon Nebula itself. Once it enters the nebula, the ionized gases will generate considerable interference with our sensors. I’m afraid that ‘noise’ from the nebula will effectively mask the Fang’s l
ocation unless we pursue them immediately.”

  Picard shook his head thoughtfully. “No. Our business is with the Pai, not the G’kkau. Not yet, at least.” He glanced toward Lieutenant Tor. Her blue antennae swiveled slightly in his direction. “Proceed to our original destination at full speed,” he instructed her.

  Stars streaked by on the main viewer as Picard settled back into his chair. Now that Data had called it to his attention, Picard could see the celebrated nebula from which the Dragon Empire took its name. A sprawling arc of delicately colored, coruscating gases, the Dragon Nebula spread across the center of the screen. The planet Pai, too distant to be seen just yet, orbited a medium-sized, yellow star at the fringe of the nebula. From certain angles, Picard knew, including the perspective of the Pai, the entire nebula resembled the mouth of an enormous fanged beast: a dragon perhaps, or, he had to admit, a G’kkau. How ironic, he thought, that Starfleet has sent me to save the humanoid citizens of the Dragon Empire from a voracious race of real-life dragons.

  At the moment, Picard didn’t feel like St. George. This brief standoff with the G’kkau warship troubled him more than he let on. Ultimately, it was probably good to be aware that the G’kkau were already lurking about, but their unwanted presence did not promise to make his mission any easier—or anything less than crucial. More than merely future relations between the Federation and the Pai was at stake; unless Picard succeeded, the Dragon Empire itself faced annihilation at the claws of the G’kkau.

  And to think, he mused, astounded at the very notion, it all depends on a wedding. . . .

  “The importance of this wedding cannot be overstated,” Picard began.

  His entire senior staff, including Dr. Beverly Crusher and Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge, was seated around the conference-room table. Picard sat at the head of the table, occasionally glancing down at the data padd beneath his fingertips. Part of him felt uneasy about leaving the bridge under the command of the support staff while an enemy warship might still be hiding somewhere in the vicinity. The Fang had fled, however, at the first sign of opposition from the Enterprise; perhaps he’d succeeded in scaring Kakkh away for a while. If more trouble did arise, he reassured himself, the bridge was only a turbolift away.