The Klingon Art of War

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  THE WARLORD OF THE MOUNTAIN

  A fast strike to the heart will provide victory far quicker and more easily than a protracted battle. All the technique in the world will not aid a warrior fallen in combat.

  If the battle is just, the cause glorious, and the enemy worthy, then honor comes from victory. While there can be honor in defeat, there is more in victory. At its simplest, battle is done in order to win.

  A warrior surveys the field of battle and finds the way to victory. Often, the best way to a destination is the shortest.

  Kahless’s goal was to unite our people. His was a path paved with pain. There were no short paths to that victory, as many warlords would not bend their knees to Kahless. They resisted his message of glory, they cast aside his call to honor, and they scoffed at his promise of unity.

  One of the most recalcitrant of these was Ralkror, the Warlord of Kol’vat, who ruled from Goqlath Mountain.

  For centuries, Kol’vat stood undefeated, for any who tried to lay siege to it would first have to climb the mountain. Even the most foolish of rulers knew to put sentries around the periphery of the mountaintop, thus providing the rulers of Kol’vat plenty of warning to mount a defense.

  Ralkror had ruled for many turns and had never been defeated. Indeed, he was never in any danger of being defeated. Four thousand warriors stood on the battlements of Goqlath, ready to defend Kol’vat against any foolish enough to attempt conquest.

  Repeated victory brings arrogance. And idle hands forget how to grip the hilt. Ralkror saw no reason to heed the words of Kahless, nor allow himself to accept the wisdom of those words. He was Ralkror the Mighty. What need had he to capitulate? He had four thousand troops posted on the battlements who would see any attack coming.

  The wam serpent can safely ignore the plotting of gagh. That is how Ralkror saw his position and circumstance.

  Warriors who believed in Kahless mounted an attack on Goqlath Mountain. They knew the history of Kol’vat, knew that no one had ever taken the mountain by direct force. But Kahless’s goal, and theirs, was to unite all Klingons, even those atop Goqlath.

  Led by General Tygrak, they struck from the east at dawn, when the rising sun would blind Ralkror’s sentries. With the light at their backs, they attacked.

  But though Tygrak’s strategy was sound, he still lost the day. Even with the sun beaming behind them, Tygrak and his soldiers were defeated. Tygrak’s forces retreated to the caves on the outskirts of Kol’vat.

  A youth named Krim saw the flaw in Tygrak’s strategy. Many had tried to storm the battlements of Goqlath Mountain. All had failed.

  Words had also failed, for Kahless had sent many emissaries to Kol’vat to try to convince Ralkror of the nobility of his cause. Ralkror returned the heads of each of those emissaries to Kahless.

  Fierce battle upon a mountain’s face is a lengthy proposition. Krim decided on a quieter approach.

  On a moonless night, while the rest of Tygrak’s soldiers slept, Krim stripped off his armor. Carrying just his d’k tahg, he climbed the mountain with the stealth available only to a single unencumbered warrior. He ran across the battlements, slashing the throats of each of the sentries that guarded Kol’vat.

  By the time one warrior saw his attacker, Krim had run past him and the warrior next to him and killed them both.

  With the sentries dispatched, General Tygrak was able to do what no one had done before. He conquered Goqlath Castle, slaying Ralkror himself. To Krim, he gave the honor of presenting the warlord’s severed head to Kahless. Upon making this delivery, Krim said, “This is the last head you will receive from Kol’vat.”

  Krim then told the story of how four thousand throats may be cut in a single night by a running man.

  Instead of waiting for proper conditions to coalesce, Krim created his own conditions in his own time.

  THE KORVIT TRAPS

  Kahless told Krim a story of his own. His cousin was a farmer, and he lay out korvit traps, even though no korvit had been sighted for many turns. The neighboring farmer mocked Kahless’s cousin. He had wasted time setting traps for an animal that would never come, the man said. He could have spent the time tilling the fields so he could better grow food. After all, that is the duty of a farmer, to provide food so warriors may fight with full bellies.

  But korvit can be stealthy beasts, and one night, without warning, they came. Kahless’s cousin’s crops, surrounded by the bodies of dead korvit, were untouched. The neighbor’s fields were ravaged, for the korvit gorged on his lands.

  The neighbor did eventually place traps, but his yield was a quarter of the cousin’s harvest. Starting a battle after the enemy has already won is a waste.

  Krim thought he understood Kahless’s story, that he himself was like Kahless’s cousin. But Kahless laughed then and told Krim that Kahless’s cousin was Ralkror. Or, more to the point, who Ralkror was. He anticipated the battle by posting four thousand guards. But over time, he became the neighbor. He became complacent in believing that his strategy would work forevermore.

  Krim, Kahless explained, was the korvit.

  To the first goes the triumph. Victory postponed can curdle into defeat. It is as they say: The targ that charges is the targ that eats. Opportunity is like the wind—now appearing, now vanishing. You must take before it is gone!

  IN THE VALLEY OF HAMAR

  One of the greatest battles in the history of our people was General Kizhar’s campaign against the warlord Pohm. The warlord had a strong position in the Valley of Hamar, and the general had only five hundred warriors at his back. But Kizhar rode all through the day and arrived within striking distance of the valley in the middle of the night.

  Pohm knew that Kizhar’s troops were en route, and told his warrior to be prepared for an attack at dawn.

  But Kizhar knew the way to a quick victory is to strike your opponent in the heart instantly. Who looks too long will never leap!

  Though his warriors had ridden hard, he did not wait until first light to attack as expected.

  Leaving their exhausted mounts behind, Kizhar’s five hundred attacked swiftly on foot in the depths of the night. Kizhar refused to wait until the sun rose before engaging in a long siege he would likely lose. Instead, he caught Pohm’s troops unawares, at the time he had chosen.

  Victory comes easily to the warrior who pounces. There is no honor in attacking in secret. True warriors do not hide their faces from their foes, but surprise can be a warrior’s soundest armor.

  It takes courage to attempt what has not been done before. It takes cleverness and guile and audacity to go against a foe who outmatches you. On the face of it, five hundred should not defeat two thousand, nor should one defeat four thousand. But a true warrior does not accept life on its face, but shapes circumstances into new forms.

  While a quick strike can yield swift triumph, the other half of the precept is also of value: There are times when a warrior should not strike at all.

  THE SICKLY BROTHER AND THE STRONG

  There were once two brothers who grew up in the Ketha Lowlands. The older brother was small and sickly, and the younger brother was huge and strong. It was always assumed that the younger brother would become a warrior while the older brother would remain home as the head of their meager house.

  But the younger brother was constantly getting into trouble. He stole from his neighbors and he brutalized the younger children who were too small to defend themselves, and when he applied to join the Forces of Kahless, he was rejected as unworthy.

  The older brother, however, worked hard to overcome his physical deficiencies. He trained in the mok’bara and became a warrior in the Forces of Kahless, albeit as a clerk. (Even the strongest army must have support. Every boot needs a sole.)

  This infuriated the younger brother. He had assumed he would be the warrior in their family.

  When the older brother came home on leave, the younger brother challenged him. This left the older brother with a dilemma: accept the challenge
to a fight he could not possibly win or walk away.

  He chose the latter. After all, he was the older brother. His primacy in the household was assured by his birth, reinforced by his status as a warrior, which his sibling did not possess. Even with his mok’bara training, his sibling was twice his size. This fight was one he could not possibly win. But it was one he did not need to win or even, indeed, to fight.

  So he walked away. Fighting a battle you cannot win, when you have already triumphed, is like trading your ghIntaq spear for a rake.

  An honorable challenge should never be turned down. But the younger brother’s challenge was baseless. His desire to do battle with his brother had nothing to do with honor and everything to do with shame. On the field of honor, he had already lost.

  The older brother recognized this. By refusing a dishonorable challenge, he preserved not only his own honor, but his brother’s as well. Though angry, the younger brother was spared the stigma of defeating a foe who is incapable of fighting back.

  Most important, however, is that when a warrior does choose to fight, the choice is made swiftly and without hesitation.

  A tentative warrior is no warrior. When a warrior faces a challenge, there is no time to dither or think, to worry over contingencies, to wonder about outcomes. Doubt weakens iron. Action must be taken or the battle will be lost before it begins.

  So take action! Let your war cry be your shield!

  K’RATAK’S COMMENTARY

  The saying of Kahless’s that goes with this precept is one of the greatest wisdoms of our people. It is among the most oft-quoted of Kahless’s many great sayings, and it comes from Krim and his attack on the four thousand who guarded Goqlath Mountain.

  The most famous application of Kahless’s words and Krim’s actions was that of the great Captain Kraviq of the I.K.S. Roney a century ago. He was sent to secure the colony of Qolis, a world occupied by jeghpu’wI’1 known as the Fortrans. But the Fortrans’ homeworld had come under the protection of the Federation. Emboldened, the Fortrans decided it was time to take their colony back from us. Kraviq was sent to secure Qolis and to ensure that the Fortrans on that world remained under the Klingon flag.

  But the Fortrans were encouraged by their new status with the Federation, and so they attacked the Roney, crippling it and encasing it in a tractor beam. (The Federation claimed to have no knowledge of how the Fortrans came into possession of Starfleet phasers and tractor beams. It was a different time, when the Federation was our blood enemy rather than the staunch allies they have been since the destruction of the moon Praxis.) Kraviq and his crew were captured and denied the honor of dying.

  Knowing that reinforcements were due in two days, Kraviq bided his time. He waited for the Fortrans to take him away for interrogation—he knew that a warship captain would be so targeted—at which point he was able to overpower his captors and escape to the mountains of Qolis. But he was still alone against four thousand Fortrans. He could wait until the reinforcements arrived—but more of his warriors may have suffered ignoble deaths at the Fortrans’ hands while he failed to take action. He was but one against many.

  And then Kraviq remembered the stories he was told in his youth, of the Campaign at Kol’vat. He recalled the story of Krim, who also faced four thousand foes alone and was victorious. The honored dead raising their flags all around him, Kraviq sprang to action. Using the native flora, Kraviq was able to fashion a spear—the Fortrans had taken his d’k tahg—and he slit the throats of all the Fortrans. Like Krim, as soon as he came upon a strategy, he did not hesitate, but made a risky, yet glorious decision. He knew the danger, yet also knew that there was more danger in not acting.

  By the time reinforcements did arrive, Kraviq had done all the work, slitting approximately four thousand throats in a single night. Kraviq himself was killed, but he was victorious. Soon thereafter, a statue of Kraviq was enshrined in the Hall of Warriors, where it still serves as a reminder of the honor won by those who act as the lightning strikes: quickly and without considering danger or the possibility of failure. Like Krim before him, Kraviq found an opportunity, seized it, and struck swiftly. Qolis remains a Klingon colony even now, a testament to Kraviq’s honorable deed.

  Less well known is the world of Qadyaq, which contained a uridium mine run by the House of Taklat. That House was ruined by the destruction of Praxis, and the people of Qadyaq were left destitute. The citizens of that world turned to dishonorable means to keep their planet solvent. They stole from other Klingon worlds, sacrificing their honor to save their lives—always a poor bargain. This proved a less-than-efficacious strategy, for there was one among them who was revolted by the people’s thievery. Mazka was a minor government official, but he knew that a life without honor is like poison to the spirit, and a Klingon who steals from other Klingons has forfeited his right to live. So he took his d’k tahg and slew the people of Qadyaq by slitting all their throats in a single night.

  Today, Qadyaq is an uninhabited world, a minor planet of little interest now that its uridium is depleted. Mazka’s swift strike redeemed the people’s honor, but it was not enough to save his world. His victory, though swift, was hollow.

  Still, one need not actually slay four thousand people to demonstrate the use of deliberate action in the service of honorable victory. One of the finest tapestry makers in Klingon history is the great Danqo. His targ-hair tapestries decorate the walls of many of the finest Houses in the Empire, and legend has it that he hunted and killed the targs himself. As his fame rose, he took on apprentices to assist him in keeping up with demand.

  Apprentices to greatness often achieve their own fame. While J’Dor is not as well regarded as Danqo—no one in history is—after several turns as Danqo’s primary assistant, he left the service of the great one to strike out on his own. The tapestry that adorns the entryway to the Lukara Edifice in the First City is one of J’Dor’s.

  In any event, J’Dor’s departure led to a vacancy that needed to be filled by one of the two apprentices, Kavo and Lyja. Kavo had been with Danqo for three turns, and he assumed the position was as good as granted, seeing as Lyja had been with Danqo for only two.

  Lyja, though, believed herself to be the better artisan, but she had no way to prove that to Danqo. Apprentices have no body of work of their own to show for their efforts, for they work only in service of the master. Lyja would show her master her true worth. Gathering up the spare targ hair, she stayed up all night working on a small tapestry displaying a warrior holding a bat’leth aloft. Normally, such a tapestry—even one as small as what she created—would take several days. She completed it in one night of tireless work.

  The next morning, she gave the tapestry to Danqo as a gift. Kavo immediately chided her for making use of targ hair that was not hers to use, but Danqo was impressed with her initiative. To Lyja’s delight, and Kavo’s annoyance, she was given the position of primary assistant, for she acted with dispatch in formulating and executing a plan to victory. She struck swiftly, accomplishing in one night what would usually take days.

  Kavo did not strike at all, and was left in defeat, to wallow in regret. That tapestry of a warrior holding a bat’leth aloft, small though it is, still holds a place of honor on the walls of Danqo’s workshop.

  More fundamentally, when in honorable combat, the best route to victory is a quick blow to one’s opponent. In the darkest days of the Dominion War, Chancellor Gowron was challenged by Worf on behalf of Martok, the general who was both Gowron’s chief of staff and the head of Worf’s House. Gowron had ordered Martok into many unwise campaigns, knowing that they would result in failure. Though it was a time of war, the chancellor feared the general’s growing popularity and took advantage of the opportunity to force him into several defeats.

  Though Gowron was their commander in a time of war, Worf knew the chancellor was behaving with dishonor and leading Klingon warriors into defeat when victory was all that would keep the Dominion from spreading their pernicious influence beyond
Cardassia. So Worf took the only action he could when Gowron refused to cease his schemes: he challenged the chancellor. Their battle was ferocious, worthy of song, as two of the greatest warriors of recent memory fought fiercely.

  Worf was able to win even after Gowron had shattered his bat’leth and gained the upper hand by so doing. As the chancellor was poised to strike the final blow, Worf grabbed two shards of his broken blade and thrust them quickly into Gowron’s gullet. Once more, decisive action, a chance taken in the purifying glare of unthinking haste, had changed the course of Klingon history. Worf’s victory paved the way to Martok’s ascension to the chancellorship, and he continues to rule us with honor.

  A speedy strike blazes the path to victory, even if defeat seems imminent. Never underestimate the power of a decision made lightly, without the burden of debate, argument, or endless reasoning. Who acts, wins—who ponders, loses. And who wins well, wins honor.

  * * *

  1. Literally, “conquered people.” jeghpu’wI’ are considered less than citizens, but more than slaves. This designation is given to the inhabitants of worlds Klingons have conquered and added to their Empire.

  THIRD PRECEPT

  ALWAYS FACE YOUR ENEMY.

  “A Klingon who kills without showing his face is no Klingon at all.”

  —KAHLESS

  Biroq’s many martial triumphs included his single-handed defeat of the guards who defended the Samnatti oligarchs on Ty’Gokor, the first world outside our home system to be brought under the flag of the Klingon Empire.

  DICTUM: THE TRUMPETED ARRIVAL