Free Rise of the Federation: Live by the Code by Christopher L. Bennett Page A

youth was dragged away. He had no love of the Klingons’ fondness for lethal penalties. But Denobulan medical ethics forbade him from intervening against death when such intervention went against a patient’s wishes.
    Before his eyes even reopened, B’orel and the other councillors had begun hectoring Deqan about proceeding with the selection of a new chancellor. Deqan led them out of the meeting room to debate the matter further, leaving Phlox and Kon’Jef alone with Antaak on the screen. Kon’Jef leaned over Phlox, speaking as quietly as his booming voice would allow. “My gratitude, Doctor. Now my husband can achieve a last measure of peace.”
    Phlox had an inkling of what the doctor meant, but he chose not to pursue the question. He reserved his attention for his old friend Antaak, who had turned back to face the visual pickup once Krit had been taken away, and who spoke as soon as Kon’Jef left them alone. “You have my gratitude as well, Doctor.”
    “I don’t deserve it,” Phlox said. “I’ve just gotten your son killed.”
    “He brought his shame upon himself.” Antaak paused and shook his head. “No . . . if any is truly to blame, it is I. His upbringing was my responsibility, and I failed, as profoundly as I did with the Qu’Vat virus.”
    “All we can do is try our best to lead our children by example,” Phlox told him. “I, too, have a son who failed to learn the lessons I tried to pass on to him.”
    “He did not follow you into the healing arts?”
    “Worse than that.” Phlox sighed. “His name is Mettus. My youngest boy, so you’d think I would’ve figured it out by then. But no. He allowed himself to be poisoned by hate toward the Antarans—a people who had once been our enemy, but whom we no longer had reason to oppose. Any wrongs they had inflicted on us had been ‘avenged’ long since, the scales balanced, if you believe in such things. There was no longer any reason to hate Antarans except that they were Antarans, and that was enough for Mettus. I tried my best to raise my children without prejudice, to open their minds to the possibility of friendship with all races, but Mettus allowed himself to be swayed by dangerous friends. And so I lost him.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if a Klingon can sympathize.”
    “We do not hate randomly, my friend. There is no honor in continuing a grudge that serves no purpose. The First Precept of the qeS’a’ is ‘Choose your enemies well. ’ ” Antaak sighed. “But that does not matter. Deeper even than the word of Kahless is the bond between father and son. Death comes to us all, soon enough. It is through our children that we survive. And if our children reject our teachings . . . it is worse than the death of the body. I, for one, do not know how I will survive.”
    “Look on the bright side,” Phlox told him. “At least Krit believed he was acting in your defense. As misguided as it was, it was an act of love. I haven’t been so lucky.”
    “You are better off without such ‘luck,’ believe me.”
    Phlox shook off his solemn mood. “So—what will you do now, Doctor?”
    “I’m not sure. Perhaps now, with M’Rek out of the way, I can again petition the Council to finance research into a cure for the Qu’Vat mutation. Perhaps then I can help bring an end to the strife I have caused, and bring stability to the Empire at last.”
    “You know,” Phlox couldn’t resist pointing out, “you could simply learn to live together. To look beyond a cosmetic change and learn to cooperate. My people—most of them—have overcome their hatred of the Antarans and learned to work with them as friends.” He chuckled. “My daughter is marrying an Antaran man in just a few weeks. You’re welcome to attend the wedding, if you can.”
    Antaak gave the hearty laugh of a man who desperately needed something to laugh about. “Then you have my congratulations, Phlox! Though I fear I must decline, for I have matters of my