Star Trek: Seven Deadly Sins

by Margaret Clark (Editor)

  “No . . .” he croaked. He didn’t want this. He had talked back to a guard and then turned his back on him, so of course he was being punished. If he hadn’t been so riled up by Makog’s nonsense, not to mention missing a day of work, he wouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t worth starting a riot over.

  Then he heard a crack that was considerably louder than that of his bones breaking—then he heard nothing, as his ears popped with a sudden change of pressure.

  Kirrin’s last thoughts were the realization that the dome had cracked.

  Kobyk slugged down his warnog, no longer caring how bad it tasted.

  Sorkav had increased security, but that only seemed to make matters worse. Checkpoints at shuttlebays led to workers being unable to report because they were missing the shuttles. Other workers were imprisoned for minor infractions that used to require only a quick stab of a painstik.

  And the riots continued. With the greatest reluctance, and amid much complaining, Kobyk gave in to Sorkav’s demands—at least a bit—and allowed him to issue disruptors to the highest-ranking security members and to carry one himself. He was able to get a good price for a dozen Defense Force surplus hand disruptors.

  But the riots did not stop. Workers ceased production, or at least slowed it down, graffiti of malvaq bortaS was scrawled everywhere, and violence grew. Worse, because of the riots, the imprisonments, and the missed shuttles, production was at an all-time low.

  Kobyk had been hoping to contain it, but then the atmospheric dome at one of the shuttlebays cracked during a riot, killing a dozen guards, a hundred workers, and a score of maintenance staff. True, the latter were mostly jeghpu’wI’, but they still needed to be replaced.

  Worse, it happened shortly after a convoy ship had arrived to pick up a shipment bound for the shipyards on Mempa II. The ship’s captain filed a report about the riot to his superiors.

  Later that day, Kobyk received the inevitable call from General Korrd.

  Swallowing an entire mug of warnog to steel himself for the ordeal, Kobyk activated the viewer to reveal the corpulent form of the general.

  “Explain yourself, Supervisor Kobyk.” Korrd’s voice sounded like a Sporak driving over broken glass. His crest bisected his forehead perfectly, almost as if it were pointing at his intense eyes.

  “The QuchHa’ have always been a problem, General,” Kobyk lied. In fact, they’d been fine until this nonsense with Malvak. “You know what they’re like.”

  “No, Supervisor—I do not. You are hardly the first mine to report occasional problems with the QuchHa’, but you are the only one to suffer such appalling production and personnel losses. The Organians may have prevented us from finishing our war with the Federation, but that does not mean we can afford to cut back on our shipbuilding efforts.” Korrd leaned forward. “Ships need dilithium, Supervisor. You received this assignment because you promised high production at lesser cost. That is not what I see here.”

  “This is only a temporary setback, General. My security chief has employed new security measures, and once they take effect—”

  “Annh!” Korrd grunted with a wave of his hand. “This requires more than such as you and your fool of a brother can provide.”

  Kobyk winced. “The Defense Force?”

  “Yes. Three ships will be sent to deal with your QuchHa’ problem, expedite the repair of your dome, and supplement your security forces. These will be QuchHa’ ships as well.”

  “General, with respect—I would prefer a ship of true Klingons.”

  “What you prefer is of no interest to me. Let the QuchHa’ deal with their own kind. And then we will reevaluate the command structure of your mine. Out.”

  The screen went blank.

  Kobyk dry-sipped his mug before remembering that he’d finished the warnog, so he threw the mug across the room. It clattered against the wall and rolled along the floor.

  “Fat old fool,” he muttered. The general hadn’t provided a timetable, didn’t say which ships were coming, and threatened his position even if these QuchHa’ were able to bring things to order.

  He had forgotten that the Empire let QuchHa’ into the Defense Force. For that matter, he had forgotten that there were QuchHa’ of noble blood. The Earther disease that afflicted several Klingon worlds a century ago did not discriminate between high-born and commoners.

  Still, surrounded by the rabble as he was, it was easy to forget that some of the noblest Houses had QuchHa’ among them.

  They would be the ones in command of the three ships that Korrd was sending, and they would likely know how to put their fellows in their place.

  3

  Kor

  Since his days as a youth, Kor had always admired the heroes of the Empire. His father, Rynar, had often taken him to the Hall of Warriors on Ty’Gokor. Because they were of noble blood, they had been allowed in the primary entrance, though Rynar had always been sure to travel in his Defense Force uniform while wearing the sash of office that proved he was of the nobility despite being QuchHa’.

  There, young Kor would look up at the statues that showed the great warriors of history: Korma, Kopf, Sturka, Krim, Tygrak, Sompek, Reclaw, M’Rek, and, of course, the great Kahless himself.

  Young Kor swore that he would one day have a statue dedicated to himself. Rynar had laughed indulgently.

  Another Klingon, a HemQuch, had also laughed, but his was a chortle of derision. “What are you teaching that boy, old man?” he had asked Rynar.

  Before his father could reply, young Kor bleated, “What do you mean?”

  The HemQuch pointed at the statues. “Look around you, child. Do you see any weak-heads amidst the statuary?”

  “Then I shall be the first!” Kor had said the words with the confidence of youth.

  Again, the HemQuch had laughed, but then Kor’s father spoke, having seen the emblem upon the man’s d’k tahg. “Do you doubt, scion of the House of Yorgh, that a boy from the House of Mur’Eq could become a hero of the Empire?”

  At that, the HemQuch had snarled and walked away.

  Kor had grinned like a fool for the rest of the day, for the House of Yorgh was a minor House of little consequence. Kor was descended from the imperial bloodlines of Emperor Mur’Eq. Rynar’s father, also named Kor, had formally changed the House name to that of Mur’Eq after the Earther plague had poisoned all those of the House of Kor and removed their crests.

  Kor’s grandfather would never let anyone forget that theirs was a noble family, regardless of what they looked like. And Kor, who was named for him, knew that one day he would indeed become the first QuchHa’ to be enshrined on Ty’Gokor.

  So when First Officer Kahlor contacted him in his cabin to inform him that General Korrd wished to speak to him, Kor sat up straight, set down his breshtanti ale, and activated the viewer eagerly.

  “To what do I owe this honor, General?”

  Korrd outlined the problems at Beta Thoridar. “You will meet with the Devisor and the Voh’tahk, Captain. Get that mine under control by whatever means you and Captains Kang and Koloth see fit.”

  “Which of us will be in command?” Kor asked. He didn’t know the other two captains—though Koloth’s name was familiar—what their records of battle were, nor if they were QuchHa’ or HemQuch.

  “Kang is the seniormost officer.”

  Kor hesitated, as that did not actually answer the question. When the pause went on for several seconds, the captain finally said, “Very well, General. We will change course immediately.”

  The general made a grunting noise. “Your task, Kor, will be of great importance. While Koloth supervises repairs of all the damage done to the operation, and Kang supplements the security, your task will be to find the ringleaders of these malcontents. I expect a preliminary report the day after your arrival, and daily reports thereafter. Out.”

  Kor contacted the bridge and told Kohlar to set course for Beta Thoridar at maximum speed.

  Then he called up Kang and Koloth’s reco
rds of battle.

  They were both indeed QuchHa’. From what Korrd had said, most of the problems on Beta Thoridar were related to Kor’s fellow sufferers. He smiled, realizing that they probably just needed to be reminded that they were still Klingons and should behave honorably.

  Koloth’s record revealed why his name was familiar. He had lost his previous command, the Gr’oth. It had to be scuttled following a trip to the Earth Space Station K-7, when the ship was infested. His current command had also been so infested, but this time Koloth was able to take care of it himself.

  Kang’s record was more impressive. The Voh’tahk had won a few border skirmishes with Starfleet before the formal declaration of war—the same war that was stopped by the Organians.

  Scowling at the memory, Kor switched the screen off. He hated being reminded of Organia, of having his governorship taken away by those smiling all-powerful simpletons, of having the Empire’s just war aborted.

  He gulped down the rest of his ale, then went to the bridge.

  The asteroid belt of the Beta Thoridar system didn’t look like much.

  The Klothos had been the first of the three vessels to arrive, though Kohlar reported to Kor that the Devisor and the Voh’tahk would be in-system within the hour.

  The larger asteroids were thousands of qelI’qams apart at least, with smaller fragments tumbling lazily through the void at irregular intervals. Kor’s science officer gave a report that this was likely a planetoid that had suffered some kind of cataclysmic collision that shattered it. It was heavy enough in dilithium, the officer said, that it was probably already unstable even before the collision.

  The three largest asteroids had atmospheric domes on them—one, in fact, had several. This was the primary headquarters of the mining operation.

  “Pilot,” Kor said, “magnify the northernmost dome.”

  The pilot did so, and Kor saw the crack that had been created, rendering whatever was beneath it useless to sentient life.

  Turning to his first officer, Kor said, “Kohlar, you are to investigate the workers—ferret out this malvaq bortaS group. Determine who their leaders are and bring them to me for interrogation.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  From behind him, the operations officer said, “Two D7 battle cruisers coming out of warp. Transponder code confirms it is the I.K.S. Devisor and the I.K.S. Voh’tahk.”

  Kor nodded. “Open a channel to both ships—put them both on-screen.”

  Moments later, two faces appeared, which matched those on file. Kang had a dark, brooding face and seemed to permanently scowl. Koloth was paler and more pleasant—though his smile seemed to hide the d’k tahg he was about to stab you with.

  Koloth spoke first. “You must be Captain Kor.”

  “Indeed. I have not yet contacted Supervisor Kobyk.”

  His smile widening, Koloth said, “I imagine your presence has made him apprehensive.”

  Kang’s scowl deepened. “If so, then he is an even bigger fool than General Korrd indicated. The three of us shall transport to his office immediately.”

  Koloth frowned. “Should we not communicate our impending arrival?”

  “The general told him we were coming,” Kor said with a small smile. “That should be communication enough.”

  “Precisely,” Kang said with a nod.

  Kor materialized in the supervisor’s office to find himself at gunpoint.

  Koloth and Kang had beamed down next to him, and Kang barked, “Holster your weapon immediately!”

  The one holding the weapon was a short HemQuch who wore thick-soled heeled boots, no doubt in an attempt to increase his height. He was standing next to the desk and aiming a disruptor pistol at the three of them. According to the records, this was Sorkav, the chief of security for the mine, and the brother of the supervisor.

  That supervisor was sitting behind the desk, holding a mug of what smelled like warnog in his right hand. Kobyk shared a crest with Sorkav, and they had the same wide green eyes.

  Sorkav was still pointing the disruptor. “Who are you to give me orders, QuchHa’?”

  “I am Kang.” The captain accentuated the point by stepping forward, looming over the security chief. “And I am not accustomed to giving orders twice!”

  “Sorkav, do as he says!” Kobyk said. “My apologies, Captains, but these have been difficult times. If you had warned us of your arrival—”

  Kang waved him off and started to pace back and forth across the office. “From now on, all shuttle activity in this asteroid field is restricted. Any shuttle launches must be escorted by one of our three ships. Any shuttle traveling unescorted will be fired upon.”

  Kobyk’s mouth opened, then closed. “Captain, I—”

  “Furthermore,” Kang continued as if Kobyk had not spoken, “you will transmit the specifications of the damaged dome to the chief engineer of the Devisor and you will allow the officers of the Klothos free access to your personnel.” Kang turned to Sorkav. “As for you, send all your duty rosters to QaS DevwI’ Morglar aboard the Voh’tahk. Your forces will be supplemented with security teams from my vessel. Am I understood?”

  Kor watched both brothers as Kang spoke. Kobyk seemed to deflate, sinking lower and lower into the comfortable-looking klongat-skin chair. But Sorkav smoldered. Kor had seen that expression before many times in his life. Sorkav and the man from the House of Yorgh had used the word QuchHa’ as if it were the worst epithet they could utter.

  In response to Kang’s query, Kobyk replied, “Captain, I believe that this is a bit extreme.”

  “I asked a question, Supervisor,” Kang said. “It requires a simple yes or no.”

  Squirming in his chair, Kobyk started: “We are perfectly capable—”

  Kor decided to speak. “You are hardly that, Supervisor, or the three of us would not need to be here.”

  “General Korrd asked for a preliminary report,” Koloth said. “I would hate to have to tell him that you obstructed us from the moment of our arrival.”

  Kang stepped forward and leaned over, his fists resting on Kobyk’s desk. “Am I understood, Supervisor? Or must I relieve you of your post?”

  “This is our mine!” Sorkav bellowed, his hand moving to his disruptor, but not actually unholstering it. “We will not be ordered about by the likes of you!”

  “Sorkav, be silent!” Kobyk cried. Then he looked back up at Kang. “You are understood, Captain Kang. Your instructions will be carried out immediately.”

  Then Kobyk looked back at his brother. Sorkav snarled and moved toward the exit.

  “I did not give you leave to depart, Sorkav,” Kang said without turning around.

  Sorkav stopped and turned to face Kang. “I accept that you are here to restore order to this mine, Captain. But I am not one of your crew, and I do not require your permission to move freely about.”

  With that, he departed.

  Kor and Koloth exchanged glances, and Kor knew that their reports to the general were not going to reflect favorably upon Sorkav.

  “You must forgive my brother, Captain,” Kobyk said. “As I said on your arrival, these have been difficult times.”

  “No,” Kang said, straightening up. “For as long as we are assigned here, Supervisor, you are in no position to tell any of us what we ’must’ do.”

  Kobyk nodded. “Of course, Captain.”

  But Kor thought that the nod, while masked as a gesture of respect, was to avoid making eye contact with Kang, so the captain would not see Kobyk’s disgust.

  4

  Jurva

  Bekk Jurva had been assigned by QaS DevwI’ Morglar to supplement the security forces at one of the shuttlebay checkpoints.

  “The hand scanners they use were ancient when I was a trainee,” Morglar had told her. “I would prefer to trust readings from our scanners.”

  Jurva had served well for several turns, and she knew Morglar well enough to question his orders without worry for the consequences. So she asked, “Why am I be
ing assigned to this detail? Surely there is—”

  “Battle?” Morglar laughed. “These are miners, Jurva, not Starfleet or Kinshaya. There will be no battle here.”

  “Then I will report to”—she stared at the data slate Morglar had handed her—“Section Chief Targ.” Her eyes widened, and she looked up at Morglar. “Surely, that isn’t his name?”

  “It’s a family name, apparently.” Morglar reached over to the controls of the data slate and called up the man’s record.

  Peering at the display, Jurva saw that his full name was Targ, son of Targ. He was also from the Kingral Hills of Mempa VIII, a backward, rural area. Jurva had served on the Defense Force base on Mempa VIII before being transferred to the Voh’tahk, and she had always found the country folk from Kingral Hills to be tiresome.