Once he had accomplished his mission, Tyr was able to sit down and have dinner. The Pepper Pot had been commissioned to cater the event along with seven other establishments. So, Tyr chose stewed chicken, peas and rice, kahliloo, and tucked in.
However, while Tyr ate and talked with the various dignitaries seated around him, he kept Solon in his line of sight. He did not like what he saw.
Solon stayed with the same group of people for most of the night. To the untrained eye Solon looked as if he was merely hanging around with and conversing with his fellow Vulcans. But, Tyr knew better. So did Tamara. If they needed evidence that the Vulcan was up to some kind of nefarious action, this was it.
“Tamara, your Uncle is a double agent." Tyr thought, as he lifted a fork full of rice to his mouth.
”Babe. You forget that man is no longer my Uncle. Tamara thought back coolly as she chewed her salad.
Indeed, she had formally disowned Solon and possessed the official documents to prove it. And according to Vulcan law. So did he.
”Yes, I am aware of that fact, however, I just wanted to warn you in case I must take drastic action. . . . .” Tyr thought back.
”The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.' Tamara thought. Quoting Ambassador Spock's infamous phrase. ”Do what you must, Tyr. If the elimination of one foul creature and his cohorts would prevent billions from dying, so be it. Believe me, he will not be missed.” she continued.
Tyr gazed at Tamara and was about to respond verbally when Cornelius stepped up behind him politely interrupted.
“Sire, there is a party here to see you. They've insisted on a private audience.” Cornelius said.
“Please excuse me.” Tyr said to the esteemed diners at his table, as he rose to follow his Ceremonial Guard.
“I will return.” he continued. On the way out Tyr glanced at Khan, who shook his head. Tyr immediately got that creepy feeling again.
The Viceroy was led down the corridor to an unoccupied room. The door whooshed open as they entered and Tyr stood face to face with ten members of The Black Watch.
They all stood stiffly in military formation as they gazed silently at him. This could only mean one thing, they had complied with his orders to execute the rouge Osiris and his wives. Only, there was a slight problem.
“Sire, we have fulfilled your orders and have brought back evidence.” A young man, Tyr did not recognize said.
“Lieutenant, where is Commander Anderson?” Tyr asked, of him. The young man's military demeanor cracked, slightly.
“Sire, Commander Anderson and five others perished during the execution of the mission.” he replied. “We have brought back their remains.” he continued. The Black Watch's motto was: “ We NEVER leave our dead behind.”
In keeping with The Black Watch's strict military code, they all wore rank insignias but no name tags. They lived together like a family, thus didn't need them. However, an outsider like The Viceroy. . . . .
“What is your name, Lieutenant?” Tyr asked.
“Higgenbothem, Sire.” he replied.
“Let it be known and recorded that on this date and at this time, I hereby commend and promote you to Commander of The Black Watch. The remaining members of your team will also be given promotions and commendations. The deceased members of your team will be given posthumous honors. The families will also be compensated. I will forward the appropriate communicies as soon as possible.” Tyr said.
“Affirmative, Sire.” The newly minted Commander Higgenbothem replied. “Would you like to see them, Sire?” he asked.
Tyr briefly looked at Cornelius. No wonder Khan had shaken his head, as there was no way he would be returning to dinner after this. . . . . . .
“Lead on, Commander.” Tyr replied.
* * * * * * * * * * *
They took a round about way to get to the nearest Landing Bay. Why? Because The Black Watch specialized in stealth and that concept would be rendered useless if everyone saw them.
The party walked up the gangway of a Nietzschean troop carrier. Officers that had been left behind stood and saluted as the Viceroy entered. He acknowledged them and followed Commander Higgenbothem down to the ships hold.
There, off in a private corner sat six Nietzschean flag draped coffins. A combination of both anger and sadness welled up in Tyr, and threatened to burst free.
“Leave us!” Tyr ordered. Everyone left the bay except for Cornelius. Only he witnessed the Viceroy's scream of rage, then the tears.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Three hours later found Tyr in his quarters at his personal console working away. He had carefully reviewed the evidence Commander Higgenbothem had given him. He'd composed and sent the appropriate communicies to Pinnacle. Orders for promotions and citations for both the living and dead. Also compensation to the prides and clans who had lost loved ones.
This done, Tyr sat back and stared at the two items lying on his desk. The disc VuVu had retrieved from Racurr's pocket and the mini recorder that was in Solon's corner.
He had played the disc several times, for the benefit of himself and his guest. The result was the same. Starfleet had been hoodwinked.
“. . . . . . . I purposely led Starfleet to believe that I am on their side. Additionally, I led them on a wild goose chase, by telling them the the Romulan Ambassador would have the disc on his person. In reality he does have a disc, but it is filled with utterly useless gibberish. . . .” Solon bragged on the recording.
“The real discs will be carried by Team Rhana. Starfleet has not a clue. . . . . . . .” Solon continued, and snickered nastily. Shocking behavior for one who claimed to be an epitome of Vulcan-ness.
“I will be meeting them to retrieve the authentic discs in one hour. At 0300 hours we will meet to make the official exchange at. . . . . . ( names an obscure location on Deep Space Ten ). . . . I expect compensation of course.” Solon continued.
”What an arrogant and insufferable toad!” Tyr thought.
“I have contacted Team Wave Rider and they have assured me that they've personally witnessed the fact that Team Rhana is in possession of the discs.” a female voice stated. She was referring to Seamus and Monique Harper.
“Which gives me approximately 43 minutes to move my assets into place.” Tyr replied.
"More than enough time." Tyr thought.
“What are you planning to do?” the female voice asked.
“Snuff out a destructive fire which has burned far too long.” Tyr replied coldly.
“You do realize that if anything untoward occurs you are on your own. We will disavow any knowledge of it.” she stated.
“I understand.” Tyr said, as he stood.
The Viceroy had long discarded the trappings of his office, and was dressed from head to foot in black. Even Tyr's dreadlocks had been tied up in a specially designed, black, stretchy cloth.
“Please be careful, Tyr. You are a tremendous asset to us and we cannot afford to lose you.” she stated as she watched him slip on a pair of black gloves.
He flexed his hands and fingers, then slipped a mean-looking dagger into his hip sheath. His guest silently pitied the fool who'd ran afoul of this particular Nietzschean.
“I will endeavor to do so.” he replied. And was gone.
Note To Readers: Who is the "Female Guest or Voice"? Well, she sort of like the X-Files' "Cigarette Smoking Man". You never knew the man's name but he certainly had a lot of clout and power.
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