The Klingon Art of War

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Amar once famously said he could tell the quality of a warrior simply by the manner in which the bat’leth was held. If you held the blade against your shoulder, grip facing outward, Amar had little faith that you were a good warrior. It would take too long to move the weapon into a defensive position, requiring its bearer to grab it and turn it around. Also, if you hold the weapon that way, your grip puts the blade against your body. A foe could wound you by simply pushing against the bat’leth.

  Even holding it in that same position but with the blade held outward and the grip against your shoulder, you still prove yourself more interested in how you look than in how you fight.

  A true warrior cares more for readiness than appearances. A black trigak kills as surely as a white. Warriors trained by Amar always knew to hold the bat’leth either cradled in the crook of the arm with one hand on the far grip, or in a two-handed grip at an angle in front of them.

  Those who hold their weapons ready to fight assure their foes that they can.

  VARGO AS A YOUTH

  Combat also reveals one’s own true self to oneself.

  After Vargo, the warlord who ruled the Tenka Plains, pledged his allegiance to Kahless, he told the story of how he came to power.

  When he was still but a youth, his parents were killed in an accident, trampled by a khrun. Vargo was too young to rule, but his father’s chief advisor, Kimrek, served as his regent. Kimrek convinced Vargo he was too sickly to be a warlord, that he had neither the head nor the heart for it. Eventually Vargo conceded most of the power to him, while he tried and failed to improve his health.

  Not long after, a plague ravaged the region. Vargo visited many of the sick as they lay dying. One of them was an old woman who apologized to Vargo. As she expired, she confessed to Vargo that she had poisoned the khrun that trampled his parents, deranging it.

  Her last words named Kimrek as the person who hired her.

  Vargo’s fury was amazing to behold. Despite his illness, he took up arms and challenged Kimrek. Though Kimrek was a great warrior, Vargo had righteous outrage on his side.

  The two of them fought for most of a day. Despite his illness, despite his lack of training, Vargo was able, eventually, to defeat Kimrek and stand alone as warlord of the Tenka Plains.

  Later Vargo learned that Kimrek had also been slowly poisoning him. The sickly nature that Kimrek had used as a pretext for taking power was in fact of his own creation. In challenging Kimrek, Vargo found himself at last, and he ruled Tenka for the rest of his days.

  Nothing reveals a warrior spirit more than the act of combat itself. Whether on the klin zha board or on the battlefield or in the noble rage of the duel, the act of battle rouses the spirit and reveals the warrior’s true face.

  K’RATAK’S COMMENTARY

  Ty’Gokor has always been a fortress of the Empire. One of the best-defended worlds in Klingon space, it is the site of the inductions into the Order of the Bat’leth3 and the headquarters of many sections of the Defense Force and Imperial Intelligence. It was also the temporary capital of the Empire after Qo’noS was devastated by the Borg.

  This stronghold of a planet—long enjoying a reputation as the most secure world in the Empire—was breached only once in our history. It appeared to be a Romulan attack, made shortly before the Tomed Incident that led to that empire closing its borders. In reality, it was a betrayal by the House of Taklat. That House, as stated in an earlier commentary, had fallen into financial ruin after the destruction of Praxis, and was indebted to several Romulan nobles, who made loans to House of Taklat to keep it alive. But the repayment of those loans came in the form of favors for the Romulan Empire. Many Houses did likewise after Praxis, leading to many attempts by the Romulans to take over the Empire covertly through these economic entanglements.

  Taklat himself had come to Ty’Gokor, ostensibly to supervise the construction of a new base for the Defense Force on the island of K’velera, but in truth he came to sabotage the existing base for his Romulan masters, so they could attack. Under a cover of inspecting the generators—they would need to be duplicated in the new base—Taklat shot Lieutenant Volagh, the operations chief of the base, in the back, then brought the shields down. Commander B’Ennora, the leader of the base, went to the generator room to investigate the shields. There she found Taklat, who claimed to be trying to restore the base’s defenses, and Volagh. Taklat alleged that Volagh had betrayed them.

  But B’Ennora looked at Volagh, who was not yet dead. They exchanged a glance, a moment of tova’dok. They spoke without words, and B’Ennora knew instantly that Volagh was no traitor. She saw his true face in that moment, as well as Taklat’s. Unsheathing her d’k tahg, she turned to Taklat. Before he could speak or attempt to conceal his true self once more, she killed him and restored the shields. Ty’Gokor remained safe until reinforcements could arrive.

  There is no discussion of tova’dok in qeS’a’, even though it is a notion that predates Kahless. It’s one of those nebulous concepts that warriors either swear by utterly or refuse to believe in. Tova’dok is one of the ways warriors show their true faces to other warriors and prove who they are and what they are worth as honorable Klingons.

  In the days before the Dominion War, Martok and Worf were imprisoned by the Dominion. As part of their imprisonment, they were put into a ring and forced to fight the Jem’Hadar. This was a method of training the soldiers of the Dominion to fight species from the Alpha Quadrant. After many rounds in the ring, Worf was close to giving up, ready to let the Jem’Hadar simply kill him rather than endure more torment. Imagine what anguish and pain the Jem’Hadar must have heaped on Worf’s back to bring him to the brink of that, the darkest choice.

  But then he and Martok looked at each other. Still a general at the time, the future chancellor stared into Worf’s eyes and saw that the latter was prepared to die. Ashamed at his cowardice, Worf instead took strength from Martok and chose to continue fighting. Both Martok and Worf, who told the story to his former Starfleet commanding officer, Captain Benjamin Sisko, and to Giancarlo Wu, who served as his aide when he was Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Empire, described this moment of tova’dok. In the end, their shared moment revealed Worf’s true face to himself, and he knew he had to change it or die in shame. It saved Worf’s life and his honor. It was likely what led to his welcome into the House of Martok, of which Worf remains a proud member.

  More fundamental than tova’dok, however, is the pith of the precept, that a warrior’s true nature comes out in combat. Battle is difficult and arduous. For all the talk of ours being a warrior culture, we aren’t all truly warriors. The elite are warriors, yes, and warriors are the elite. We elevate warriors to such status for a number of reasons, not the least being that becoming a warrior is a monumentally difficult proposition. The requirements are many: a warrior must be fit, must be swift, must be strong, must be smart, and must be cunning.

  Warriors train from the moment they can first wield a blade, and the training never ceases. It is a true expression of one’s capabilities, because there is no artifice when one fights. One can occasionally fool an opponent, and even sometimes oneself, but ultimately it is only one’s skill, one’s spirit, one’s honor that will bring triumph.

  One of the tests that teachers of mok’bara give to their students is Daq4. For this test, which is required in order to advance in rank, teacher and student face each other without moving. Whoever moves first is the winner—unless the move is too slow. It is a test of will, of discipline, of patience. Some mok’bara practitioners have stood facing each other for days on end before one finally made a movement. My own mok’bara master tells the story of the great teacher Woliv and his first Daq test with his teacher, Qey’cho. Qey’cho was a hard master, and very few students advanced under his tutelage. Woliv was the first person he had invited to take the Daq in fifty turns.

  The test was held in the midst of the qaDrav5 in the First City. Though that special place was generally reserved for co
mbat between two warriors settling a disagreement, Qey’cho’s reputation was such that he was given dispensation by the High Council to hold a Daq there.

  People from kellicams6 around came to see the test. Woliv and Qey’cho faced each other in the qaDrav, without moving, for minutes, hours, days. Spectators came and went, and the two warriors continued to face each other.

  Qey’cho was no longer a young warrior by this time, and at one point—after facing his student for almost two full days—his left leg began to cramp. Even so, he did not move, but eventually he was forced to shift his footing or risk falling over completely. Woliv saw this shift, minuscule though it was, and moved quickly, striking with a low kick to his opponent’s weakened leg. Qey’cho fell to the ground, and then laughed heartily, saying he had finally found a true warrior. He had suspected that Woliv was destined to be a mok’bara master, and this Daq had shown that to be his true destiny. It was through the Daq that Woliv announced himself. Qey’cho’s first movement was small, simply a shifting of weight, but that was all Woliv needed to strike.

  To know themselves, warriors must fight. Without battle, warriors’ hearts remain secret, their true natures masked. Combat unfurls the banner of a warrior’s spirit.

  * * *

  1. The origins of the name of this contest are in dispute. Some believe that it was created by a Klingon named B’aht Qul. Others believe it derives from a remote region where the dialect of the Klingon language has drifted considerably.

  2. Literally, “aim the spear.” The game has one player roll a hoop down an incline and the other player attempts to throw a ghIntaq spear through it cleanly without touching the edges of the hoop.

  3. The Order was formed by Lukara after Kahless’s ascension, and the original purpose of its membership was to ensure that Kahless’s teachings endured. The Order became largely ceremonial as the centuries wore on. However, following the Dominion War, Chancellor Martok returned the Order to its original purpose.

  4. Literally, “against” or “versus.”

  5. Challenge floor.

  6. A unit of measurement roughly equivalent to two kilometers, or one and a quarter miles.

  SIXTH PRECEPT

  DESTROY WEAKNESS.

  “All Klingons have weaknesses. Warriors know to hunt their weaknesses and cut them out.”

  —KAHLESS

  Faced with an Empire at its nadir, an Empire experiencing its worst moment since the Hur’q invasion, Azetbur destroyed the weakness her opponents accused her of nurturing.

  DICTUM: THE ENDLESS VIGIL

  WARRIORS MUST WATCH WITH VIGILANCE. A WARRIOR’S FIRST QUARRY IS WITHIN: FRAILTIES OF SPIRIT, FLAWS THAT GNAW AT RESOLVE. THESE ARE MORE TREACHEROUS THAN A DECEITFUL FRIEND, MORE WOUNDING THAN A MATE’S BETRAYAL. YOUR WEAKNESS IS MORE POWERFUL THAN YOUR ENEMY’S STRENGTH. AT THE CRUX OF DANGER, WEAKNESS EMERGES FROM THE HEART, LIKE A BEAST FROM ITS LAIR. YOUR WEAKNESSES WILL CHOKE YOUR COURAGE, BLIND YOUR VALOR, AND SMOTHER YOUR WILL WHILE IT SLEEPS. HARDEN YOUR HEART AND MAKE IT LIKE THE STONY GROUND, INHOSPITABLE TO WEAKNESS. STALK WEAKNESS TIRELESSLY. SLAY IT WITHOUT MERCY. DISHONOR COMES NOT FROM WEAKNESS, BUT FROM SHELTERING WEAKNESS AND LOOKING ON WHILE IT MULTIPLIES, WHICH IT WILL, ALWAYS.

  THE WARRIOR WITH ONE EYE

  Only a fool claims to have no weaknesses, no vulnerabilities, no fear. Only fear demands fearlessness. It is for the warrior to find weaknesses and battle them. Weakness is simply another enemy for a warrior to face and eventually defeat, even though the foe be oneself. The skills a warrior develops in fighting external opponents may also be used to conquer those within. One axe will fell many trees.

  Kahless witnessed a fight between two warriors who both desired the same woman for a mate. They fought for most of a day, and when night fell, the warriors each struck a brutal blow. One slashed the other in the eye, destroying it. Before collapsing to the ground, the blinded warrior thrust his sword into the other’s shoulder, injuring him gravely.

  In the end, neither warrior won the woman, as she chose another for her mate. Diminished, and shamed by their diminishment, the warriors wondered how to proceed.

  The one whose arm was now useless chose Mauk-to’Vor. He did not feel he could be a warrior with only one arm. Kahless himself performed the ritual for him.

  The one who lost his eye took a different view. Yes, he was a lesser warrior than his two-eyed comrades. However, he approached this as a challenge to overcome, not as a defeat to be mastered by. Kahless congratulated him and wished him well.

  For many months, the one-eyed warrior trained. He told his training partners to attack him from his blind side, where defense would be more difficult.

  By the time Kahless met the warrior again, a full turn had passed. Kahless challenged him to a friendly duel. Many times, Kahless did him the honor of attacking him on his blind side, and every time the warrior deflected the attack. Kahless was impressed.

  Defeat spurs the wise warrior to new victories.

  THE WISH TO REMAIN

  The greatest defeat Klingons have ever suffered revealed a nearly crippling weakness within us. It was our first contact with beings from other worlds. It was the Hur’q invasion.

  Kahless had united our people, ascending at last to Sto-Vo-Kor. He left behind only his bat’leth, the mighty Sword of Kahless. But then the Hur’q came and destroyed our cities, slaughtered our armies, plundered our possessions. They took the Sword of Kahless. They left us a defeated people. Conquered. Bereft.

  It would have been easy for us to withdraw into our world, to warm ourselves at defeat’s lowly fire. We could have remained on Qo’noS. Though death claims all Klingons in time, our world endures. There were many who claimed we should not leave the homeworld for that very reason. Space was filled with strange beings like the Hur’q. They would only bring death and destruction to Klingons. The demon at home is half as strong as the demon beyond, they said.

  If we remained on our world, we would be safe. We would endure as Qo’noS endures, by remaining alone, sheltered from unknown dangers.

  The wish to stay on Qo’noS was our weakness, and it needed to be destroyed.

  KAHLESS’S PROMISE

  Before he departed for Sto-Vo-Kor, Kahless made a promise. He said his work was done. The people wept, for they did not wish him to go. One person said, “We need you, Kahless!” Then Kahless turned to face them. “You are Klingons,” he said. “You need no one but yourselves. I will go now to Sto-Vo-Kor, but I promise one day I will return.” He pointed to the night sky. “Look for me there, on that point of light.”

  Debate raged among our people for months.

  Some argued that Kahless’s words meant we should stay on our world. Because he said we need no one but ourselves, some believed that we should avoid contact with aliens.

  Others believed that Kahless was explicitly telling us to go into space, because he would return to another world.

  And still others thought we should go to space for the simple reason that it was the only way to get the revenge upon the Hur’q that was our due.

  CH’GRAN AND THE FLEET

  It was the great warrior Ch’gran who led the charge. To remain on the homeworld wearing the rags of the conquered was cowardly. Only victory can mend a broken sword. To recover from our defeat required triumph in battle. And so Ch’gran oversaw the construction of mighty vessels that would take our people into the black sky. His seven ships left Qo’noS to conquer the Galaxy.

  When Ch’gran acted, we vanquished the weakness that was our desire to be safe. Because of that, when we faced another defeat, we were ready. Ch’gran’s fleet was lost, never to be seen again. However, Ch’gran’s deeds inspired Klingons to build more ships. A new, more powerful fleet left Qo’noS to make other worlds tremble. Out there, beyond, we found the resources to rebuild what the Hur’q had destroyed.

  Klingons need no one but themselves.

  Our empire grows stronger every day because we have destroyed weakness in ourselves.

  K’RATAK
’S COMMENTARY

  Centuries later, even after crushing defeats at the hands of the Dominion and the Borg, it’s safe to say that the most devastating loss in our history remains the Hur’q invasion. It was truly a turning point for our people, the moment that defined whether we would found a great empire, becoming a major power on the galactic stage, or remain a single planet of warriors unknown to the rest of the universe.

  The decision that enabled us to destroy that weakness was ultimately made by Ch’gran. Startlingly, it was revealed only a few decades ago—when the Ch’gran wreckage was found on Raknal V near the Betreka Nebula—that Ch’gran created the space fleet not to seize new opportunities for conquest off Qo’noS, but only to make a weapon with which to conquer the homeworld itself, thereby supplanting the emperor. However, his first officer mutinied, and Ch’gran’s fleet was lost. That officer’s refusal to follow a murderous leader saved the Empire from Ch’gran’s treachery.

  Though Ch’gran proved to be a traitor to our people, his actions still spurred Klingons into leaping outward. Many of those who went with him did so not because they were complicit in his scheme, but because they truly believed in the ostensible purpose of the fleet. Indeed, that is why the mutiny succeeded and why Ch’gran’s secret purpose came to naught. With enough noble followers, even a foul leader’s goal is ennobled.

  Perhaps the most important element of this particular precept is the way it’s phrased: destroy not your weakness, implying a singular vulnerability that must be excised, but all weaknesses in general, wherever they can be found. Like stripes on a trigak’s pelt, there is never only one. Indeed, the example of Ch’gran is telling, because even as he destroyed one weakness—some Klingons’ cowardice in believing that the Hur’q invasion was a reason to stay isolated—he let another weakness fester: his own desire for power, no matter the deceit necessary to obtain it. Is ambition weakness? Is the impulse to conquer weakness? The desire to show strength and resolve and purpose? No, it is not these drives that are weak. In Ch’gran’s case, it was his inability to resist the deceit, and the dishonor that accompanied it, that weakened him. He was overcome, paralyzed by it. He became a puppet to his ambition, and not the leader of his own cause, a saddled beast rather than a resolute rider. He surrendered his authority to an implacable hunger within him. That was his weakness.