Shortly after that, M’Rek became ill, and the High Council assumed their troubles were over. M’Rek named an Arbiter of Succession, and then he died. But his autopsy was performed by a Denobulan doctor, who discovered that the virus that killed him was artificially created. The Denobulan was able to trace the evidence to the creator of the virus: a physician named Krit, a son of Antaak, the doctor who created the Augment virus that led to the creation of the QuchHa’. Krit claimed it was out of revenge for the way his father was treated, but Antaak himself condemned his son, and Krit was put to death.
In truth, the Empire was better off without M’Rek by the time he died, but the dishonorable mode of killing him showed Krit to be a fool and his cause to be less than just. Rather than pursue an honorable course, Krit resorted to trickery and the secrecy of shadows, and he died in deserved disgrace.
One of the most woeful events in the Empire’s history was the industrial accident that resulted in the destruction of Praxis, the inevitable result of the House of Kuzyk’s ravaging of the satellite. The consequent loss of industry and lives was grievous enough, but the moon’s loss also portended long-term damage to the homeworld itself. Chancellor Gorkon took the initiative in reaching out to the Federation, long our blood enemies, for aid, thus laying the groundwork for an alliance that stands to this day and remains a cornerstone of the political landscape of the Galaxy.
But there were many who disagreed with Gorkon playing peacemaker, and they conspired to have the chancellor assassinated. The actual weapons that slew Gorkon were Federation phasers wielded by humans in Starfleet uniforms. However, they were merely the cat’s-paws of a cabal of Klingon and Federation traitors who did not wish the relationship between the two nations to change. The leader of these animals on the Klingon side was General Chang. One of our finest soldiers for many turns, whose statue had already been erected in the Hall of Warriors, Chang plotted to destroy Gorkon while pretending to be his friend and comrade. (Plotting! Pretending! Who could think a noble end could come from such a beginning?) The conspiracy Chang took part in was exposed by the crews of two Starfleet vessels, and Chang himself was killed in battle against those ships. While it was a good end, at least, it came at the expense of revealing the dishonor of his life. His statue was destroyed within a week of his death, and his name was added to the list of the dishonored dead. Had he challenged Gorkon like a Klingon—openly, boldly—Chang might still be remembered fondly by our people as an honorable man.
Two of our most famous chancellors, the two whose reigns were the longest, were Azetbur and K’mpec. They both died without their killers ever showing their faces. Indeed, to this day, we do not know who killed either of them.
The daughter of Gorkon, Azetbur supervised the rebuilding of the Empire in the years following the destruction of Praxis. For all his progressive ways, Gorkon named her his heir like the emperors of old, a tradition that had been abandoned with the passing of the monarchy. But even with her outdated manner of succession, the people and the High Council embraced Azetbur, in part due to the crisis facing the Empire, in part due to respect for her father. After several turns, however, and a recovery that took longer than hoped, Azetbur lost the love of the people and the support of the High Council. Reactionaries led by Councillor Kaarg fought her at every opportunity. Though she had reigned longer than anyone in Klingon history, she was eventually killed with an assassin’s qutluch. Upon succeeding her, Kaarg proclaimed his first edict: no woman would ever again serve on the High Council in any capacity.
Many rumors have circulated as to who wielded the blade that ended Azetbur’s reign, though most believe it to be an assassin hired by Kaarg. A report unearthed in the archives of a listening post in the Pheben system damaged during the Dominion War indicated that Ditagh—an ally of Kaarg’s who succeeded him as chancellor—was responsible, but no proof of that was ever forthcoming.
K’mpec’s time ruling the High Council was longer than Azetbur’s. He ruled longer than anyone in the Empire’s history, whether chancellor or emperor. But he was brought low by a poison that had no antidote.
Councillor Duras and a political agitator named Gowron vied for the chancellorship, and K’mpec died believing that one of them was responsible for killing him. K’mpec charged his Arbiter of Succession—unusually, a human from the Federation—with finding out which of the two was responsible. However, Duras was killed in a blood feud before the ritual could be completed, leaving Gowron as the last one standing. During Gowron’s ascension to the chancellorship, the truth about the House of Duras was revealed: his father, Ja’rod, collaborated with the Romulans in destroying the Khitomer outpost, and he himself conspired to keep that truth from being revealed, framing another for the crime. It was never proven that he poisoned K’mpec, but it is fairly certain that he did, an action that led to his family’s dishonor. They were stained not only by the acts of Ja’rod, which caused the death of thousands of Klingons at Khitomer, but also by Duras’s culpability in covering up the crime. His sisters attempted a coup, trying to install Duras’s bastard son as chancellor, also with Romulan aid, but that failed, and soon thereafter they died in ignominy as outlaws. A once-mighty House was brought down by one of its scion’s decisions to kill in secret while keeping another’s crimes buried. What foul fruit grows from trees planted by cowards!
This third precept does not apply only to soldiers and politicians, of course. In the city of Krennla on Qo’noS, two brothers owned a set of dwellings that they wished to demolish. The structures were old and decrepit, and the cost to repair them was prohibitive. Moreover, repairing them would only postpone the inevitable collapse of these ancient homes. The younger brother wished to tell the tenants that they needed to move out, and to assist them in finding new homes before destroying and rebuilding. The older brother thought that to be too much trouble. He thought it better for the tenants simply to leave on their own. So he contrived several accidents that forced the people to move out and to have the buildings condemned as unsafe to live in. The younger brother was disgusted by his brother’s actions and confronted his sibling. When the older brother proved unrepentant, the younger one had little recourse. The older brother’s wishes were paramount, so the younger brother could not challenge him.
Instead, he reported the deception to the Imperial Guard. That left the older brother subject to the law, and he was imprisoned for his actions, crimes that had been forged in the secrecy of his heart. Then the younger brother faced the tenants and told them the truth. The people were resettled, the buildings destroyed, and new homes built. It was the sibling who acted honorably who benefitted, both materially, through the new homes, and spiritually, by confronting the situation rather than hiding in the shadows of anonymity.
An honorable Klingon enters to trumpets, announcing himself, and he bears his cause like a pennant. In the short term, it can often be easier to simply do as you please, to act without showing your face. Indeed, Qorvak, L’Pragh, Vilik, Krit, Chang, the vo’ruv’etlh, and Azetbur’s and K’mpec’s assassins all achieved their short-term goals. But in the long term, their ends were as poor as their means. Crooked birth, crooked death. What begins without honor ends the same. But Klingons of character do not concern themselves with questions of ease or difficulty. Just as a sword’s quality is determined by its sharpness, its balance, its heft—and not by how light a burden it is—the rightness of an action is to be judged according to its nature, not by how easily it may be accomplished. A worthy cause can bear the weight your honor piles upon it.
* * *
1. Animal.
2. Literally, “the bonding.” This brings a person who is not a blood relative into a noble House.
3. The Sword of Justice.
FOURTH PRECEPT
SEEK ADVERSITY.
“The hunt tempers a warrior and makes him stronger.”
—KAHLESS
Animals act only to survive or to ensure the survival of their young. More than anything, an animal must li
ve, and that need overrides everything else.
DICTUM: THE ARDUOUS PATH
WARRIORS MUST KEEP THEIR FEET ON THE ROAD TO STRIFE. HONOR CAN BE FOUND ALONG THE WAYSIDE, AN HONOR BORNE OF SACRIFICE. BEWARE THE PRIZE WON EASILY. IT IS A STONE HUNG AROUND YOUR NECK, AND IT TESTIFIES ONLY TO THE FACT OF ITS OWN IRRELEVANCE. COMFORT SUMMONS INDOLENCE, INACTION, AND INSIGNIFICANCE. TO SHRINK FROM DANGER IS TO SHRINK FROM DUTY. BUT RIGHTEOUSNESS DEMANDS MORE THAN HOLDING ONE’S GROUND. IT CALLS THE WARRIOR TO RUN INTO THE WHIRLWIND, FOR THIS IS WHERE GLORY DWELLS. LET STRUGGLE—NEVER PRUDENCE, NEVER WHAT IS MERELY REASONABLE—BE YOUR CRITERION, RIGOR YOUR LAW.
THE KRI’STAK MOUNTAINS
Kahless once spoke of two warriors who needed to travel across the Kri’stak Mountains to reach a battle. Two routes could take them there. One led through the valley. It would be an easy journey, but it would take an extra day. The other went through the Kri’stak woodlands, which would enable them to arrive faster, but it presented difficult terrain filled with vicious predators.
Few had travelled the Kri’stak woodlands and survived, and one warrior insisted on going through the valley. The other, though, knew they were needed and any delay was unacceptable.
Unable to come to terms, the warriors split up. One went through the valley, the other through the woodlands.
While traversing the forest, the warrior who had chosen the quicker but fraught route faced a herd of klongats, dozens of birds of prey, a nest of needle vipers, and lava swamps.
He had expected dangers, though not so many. No maps had warned him of the lava swamps, and no travelers’ accounts warned him of the klongats and other predators living among the trees. He found himself surprised by each new obstacle that the woodlands placed in his path.
Because of those trials, his arrival at the battle was delayed so much that he reached it at the same time as his comrade who had taken the easier but longer route.
But the warrior who had marched through the woodlands was battle-ready, having prepared himself for combat through the foes he faced in the forest. The one who went through the valley was less prepared, due to the ease of his journey; he fell quickly in battle, while the other triumphed.
Adversity increases awareness. Danger opens one’s eyes, enabling a warrior to truly see. Facing a foe makes one stronger.
There are times when a foe is not readily available. A warrior becomes a warrior through combat, it is true. But combat does not always present itself.
When there is no combat, you must seek out a substitute.
ON THE VIRTUES OF THE HUNT
One of the ways that warriors can hone their skills is by hunting. Not in the mere killing of beasts, for that is a simple skill, all the more so if the animals be in the cage of domesticity.
But there is a thrill, a danger, an honor in seeking out the beasts in their own element, hunting them down, and taking their lives.
In some ways, it is a form of combat. Just as battle with a fellow Klingon requires skills that must be developed over a lifetime, so too with hunting.
You must learn the terrain your prey travels in. You must learn how to move within that terrain, to comport yourself to it, so that the animals do not hear you coming and hide.
You must learn to determine the scent of the animal, and to sense the patterns of the wind so that you remain downwind of the animal and your prey cannot smell you coming and flee.
You must learn to wield a sword or spear or other blade with which to slay the animal when at last you catch up to it.
You must learn to expose yourself to danger. You must experience the heightened sensations that come only from living in jeopardy. While safety excels in wearing down warriors, danger and adversity are honor’s whetstones. Scoured by strife, a Klingon shines. Affliction affirms the Klingon who dares.
The emphasis here is on learning. Hunting is a skill like any other, and it requires patience and understanding. While hunting is not the same as combat, the skills required are similar. Hunting is also a bridge built of failures, but one that will lead the way across, in time, to victory.
While one should indeed choose one’s enemies well, sometimes none are provided. But the beasts of the wild are legion. One need only go into the woodlands of the homeworld to find targ, khrun, klongat, lingta, trigak, tangqa’, and more. All provide a challenge for any warrior.
And they enable you to bolster your battle skills. Animals are creatures of pure instinct. They act only to survive or to ensure the survival of their young. While they have no conception of honor or duty, they do have sharpened instincts. More than anything, an animal must survive, and that need overrides everything else.
A foe that values survival over all is the hardest foe to defeat.
THE MOK’BARA
Another method of refining one’s battle skills when there is no foe is the mok’bara.
The origin of the art is lost to antiquity, but the mok’bara provides the basis for Klingon combat. At its most fundamental, the mok’bara teaches simple forms. Precise arm, leg, and body movements help to strengthen the body and cleanse the spirit.
A warrior can learn many useful methods of combat through the forms of the mok’bara.
Beginners first learn the way’gho parry,1 as well as the toch majQa’ strike.2 These movements are done slowly, with purity and focus, in order to build strength of technique. In the early stages, students also learn many stances, including tlhop lol,3 jen lol,4 ’eS lol,5 and Hun lol.6
More advanced techniques involve the correct manner of wielding the weapons of combat. Students who are ready for them begin with basic thrusts and parries with a short blade, such as a d’k tahg. From there, the student progresses to more complex maneuvers involving longer blades. First a tik’leth, then a mek’leth, then a bat’leth.
Eventually one progresses to the chenmoH,7 which are complex combinations of maneuvers, stances, steps, parries, and strikes. Each is more complicated than the last, starting with nap,8 which uses only way’gho and toch majQa’. Only those who achieve master status learn chenmoH’Itlh,9 the most complex of the forms.
The repetition of these forms prepares one for combat. Performing the simplest movements and practicing the simple forms again and again makes one ready to engage them instinctively when confronted by a foe. The fist can remember what the mind forgets.
In the end, a foe is not necessary for a warrior to engage in combat. Enemies take many forms. Adversity is a foe to be approached, not avoided, and embraced wherever it can be found.
K’RATAK’S COMMENTARY
The fourth precept has always fascinated me the most, for a variety of reasons.
Hunting is a sacred Klingon rite, and has been for many turns, and most Klingons assume that it is one of many teachings passed on to us by Kahless. But Kahless, as best as can be determined, was not a hunter. None of the sacred texts—not even the hidden scrolls that were revealed to the public when the clone of Kahless appeared and became emperor—make a single mention of Kahless hunting, with one exception, that being the quote that goes with this precept. Even then, the quote is out of place in the greater context of that particular chapter in the sacred texts. Here is the full quote:
“A warrior may taste battle in more ways than one. The hunt tempers a warrior and makes him stronger. It also provides him with sustenance to feed him in time for battle. That is also why farmers are so valuable, for a warrior marches on his stomach as much as his feet.”
Kahless was speaking primarily about the need for food—not an irrelevant concern—but the author of qeS’a’ thought it important enough to take that one sentence and make of it a precept involving something separate from what Kahless was speaking of.
But now, hunting has become a critical part of a highborn warrior’s life. There isn’t a noble House in the Empire without access to hunting grounds, if not on its own estate, then elsewhere. As stated in the quotation, it is a simple way to hone one’s skills without having to wait for a foe to arrive. Indeed
, it is easier than ever to hunt, for there are preserves throughout the Empire. Several worlds—Krios, Archanis, Qu’vat, No’mat, and many others besides—have huge hunting preserves, and there are hunting competitions throughout Klingon space every year. Still, unlike so many essential aspects of Klingon society and culture, we do not owe it to Kahless.
Perhaps that explains the infamous Councillor B’alikk, who served under Chancellor Kravokh and also Chancellor K’mpec. For many turns, he railed against the practice of hunting. He gave dozens of speeches in open council, in which he denigrated hunting as a barbaric and outdated practice. “We are not the uncivilized Klingons of old,” he would say, “who needed to hunt in order to survive. Do not doubt the Empire, which provides food for its people without the need to engage in obsolete rituals.”
However, every time he attempted to outlaw hunting, his proposal was shot down. In fact, only once did a councillor other than B’alikk vote yes on one of these resolutions, and that was a junior councillor who owed B’alikk a favor.
When K’mpec challenged Kravokh following the Khitomer massacre and defeated him, he ascended to the chancellorship. As soon as the next council session commenced, B’alikk proposed the outlawing of hunting once again, hoping a new chancellor would be more amenable to his arguments.
The Klingon Art of War Page 5
