Star Trek: Klingon!

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “Why?” Picard asked.

  Gowron turned to Picard. “To answer my questions. This is a story of decisions. A warrior learns by such decisions. And none of you will suit my purpose. Do you have someone who might join us?”

  Riker glanced around the crowded bar and his gaze came to rest on a group of engineers from the Enterprise drinking in a far corner. Lieutenant Barclay sat in the very corner, nodding to some conversation. His tall, too-thin frame seemed almost to swim in his uniform.

  “Sir,” Riker said, turning to Picard. “I think Lieutenant Barclay might be a good choice.”

  Picard looked almost startled, then smiled, glancing in Barclay’s direction. “I think you might be right, Number One.” Picard glanced at Worf. “Please ask him to join us.”

  Worf stood and moved across the bar as Quark sat a new glass of blood wine on the table in front of Gowron.

  “Ah,” Gowron said. “Keep them coming, Ferengi. Telling a story is thirsty work.”

  Chapter Two

  LIEUTENANT BARCLAY had been listening only halfheartedly to the conversation among the other engineers at his table as they argued about the best places to eat. Ensign Sutter insisted the best place was a cafe on Rigel, while Ensign Dem swore it was a five-star restaurant near Starfleet headquarters in San Francisco. Barclay didn’t much care. Instead his mind was focused on a problem he and Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge had been working on concerning a modification of the warp coil. He’d offered the idea of a modification that would result in making the coil 6 percent more effective. Geordi had jumped at it. If it worked, Geordi would make sure he got the credit. And more importantly, maybe Geordi would then listen to a few of his other suggestions.

  Suddenly the conversation at the table stopped, leaving what felt like a hole of silence in the noisy bar. Barclay glanced around, but all eyes at the table were focused on a place over his right shoulder.

  “Lieutenant Barclay,” a deep voice said.

  Barclay spun around and looked up at Worf. The big Klingon seemed to tower above him and Barclay’s first instinct was to duck. But he managed to just nod instead.

  “The captain asked that you join him.”

  Worf indicated the table where Captain Picard sat with Riker, Dax, Commander Sisko, Admiral Jellico, and the head of the Klingon High Council, Gowron.

  “B-b-but, why would h-h-he—” Under pressure his stammer always seemed to get worse and this time was no exception.

  “He is the captain,” Worf said, his voice firm.

  Barclay glanced at the frozen faces of the other engineers for help, but it was clear that no help was coming. Slowly he pushed back his chair and stood. He felt as if he were going to be executed. What could the captain want from him?

  Worf only nodded and led the way.

  The crowd in the bar seemed to part in front of Worf like water in front of a boat, and Barclay found himself staying close to the back of the huge Klingon as if being pulled along in his wake.

  “Ah, Mister Barclay,” Picard said as they approached. “I’m glad that you could join us.”

  Barclay wanted to say, It seemed I didn’t have a choice. But he only nodded and took the chair Riker had moved into position.

  “So this is the Barclay who will help me tell my story,” Gowron said, leaning forward over the table to stare into Barclay’s eyes. Gowron glanced at Riker. “Is he up for the task?” Then the leader of all Klingons turned his intense gaze back on Barclay.

  Barclay wanted to shout What story? but instead just stared at Gowron. He’d never seen the leader of the Klingon Empire up close before. But Barclay had imagined that if he ever got the chance, he’d be scared. And right now he was terrified. Gowron had as powerful a presence as Worf. Maybe even more. And right now Gowron’s blue eyes seemed to be cutting through to his very soul.

  Riker slapped Barclay on the back while laughing heartily. “Of course he is,” Riker said. “He’s one of the smartest engineers we have on the Enterprise.”

  Gowron continued to stare at him for a moment.

  Then he asked, “What do you know of my people?”

  Barclay swallowed, shrugged off the sting of Riker’s slap on the back, then shook his head. “N-n-not much, sir.”

  Gowron sat back, laughing. “He will be perfect.”

  Then suddenly, as if Barclay had made him angry, Gowron leaned forward, pulled out the knife sticking in the table in front of him, and stuck it back into the table in front of Barclay. The knife vibrated for a moment from the force.

  “Do you know what this is?” Gowron asked, his voice roaring so much it almost covered the rest of the noise in the bar.

  Again Barclay forced himself to swallow, then said, “A-a-a knife.”

  “A warrior’s knife. It is mine.”

  Barclay nodded and glanced at Riker who was smiling at him. Riker nodded, so Barclay turned back to Gowron who had leaned back and was taking a drink from a large goblet, as if telling the truth about the ownership of the knife was the most important event of the day. For all Barclay knew at this point, it might have been.

  Gowron wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and sighed. “My story is about Pok, son of Torghn, my friend and ally.”

  Gowron sat back and settled into his story.

  “There was a great party in the house of SepIch, Pok’s house. The large building barely contained the rich smells of roasting TKnag beast. The table was full of dishes of food and most of the hundreds of guests had arrived, filling the rooms with their laughter.

  “Earlier that day, Pok, son of Torghn, brought down the largest TKnag beast ever taken in chontay, the ritual hunt. His naOjej was sharp and his bravery will be talked about for many generations to come.

  “I attended the party as an honor to Pok, and to my ally, his father, Torghn of the house of SepIch. As I arrived, with my two guards carrying my cha’nob gifts, Torghn was introducing his son to the guests. Not wanting to disturb the moment, I stood in the doorway and listened.

  “Torghn indicated the huge roasting TKnag hanging over the open pit in the center of a large round table. Two Klingon warriors pulled tender meat from its sides and stuffed the meat into their mouths, letting the juices drip down their faces to show their enjoyment.

  “‘Nothing tastes as good,’ Torghn said, loud enough for all to hear, ‘as the beast killed in the chontay.’

  “He was right, and the crowd shouted their agreement, and after a moment Torghn held up his hand for silence. Then he turned to a tall, muscular young man standing near the entrance to the room and said, ‘Here is the hunter himself. Pok, come.’

  “Pok strode over and stood beside his father. His expression, I could tell from the door, was intent, yet happy. I remember my own lop ‘no and how I felt. A warrior never forgets that moment, that pride.

  “‘Here is the boy,’ Torghn said, indicating Pok, ‘whose naOjej brought down the largest TKnag beast ever taken on this planet. I am proud to call him son.’

  “Torghn slapped Pok on the back as the crowd cheered.

  “Then Torghn went on. ‘Tomorrow, after the Rite of Ascension, I will be prouder still to call him Warrior Son!’

  “The crowd clearly agreed. Having Pok for a son would be a great honor for any warrior.

  “Torghn raised his goblet. ‘To my son, who has chosen to follow the path of his grandfathers. To Pok.’

  “The shout ‘Oapla’ echoed through the room along with the sound of goblets smacking together. At that moment I wished I had a drink in my hand to toast my friend’s son. So I stepped forward and spoke. ‘It pleases me that I shall be here at my friend Torghn’s side to watch his son become a man.’

  “Torghn and Pok both turned to face me, and both smiled. Smiles that make even my cold heart warm just thinking about them. I did not know it, but that would be one of the last smiles I would ever see from my friend.

  “Torghn stepped up to me and we grasped arms.

  “‘Gowron!” Torghn said. ‘Your prese
nce does my house honor.’

  “‘May the house always deserve it,’ I said. ‘I have brought your son the cha’nob gifts.’

  “My guards raised their arms showing the gifts to Torghn, who smiled and bowed slightly.

  “Then I turned to Pok and said, ‘Honor me by taking them.’”

  Gowron glanced around the table and then focused his intense gaze on Barclay.

  Barclay felt at that moment as if running might have been the best option. But instead he stayed glued to his chair.

  “Federation person Barclay,” Gowron said. “If you were Pok at that moment, what would you have done?”

  Barclay glanced at Riker, whose face showed no trace of emotion. He quickly scanned the others at the table. Only Admiral Jellico showed emotion, and it looked closer to boredom than anything else.

  “Come, Barclay,” Gowron said, his voice firm. “Indecision is like a disease with you Federation types. You think too much. There is a Klingon saying. “Act and you shall have dinner. Think and you shall be dinner.” You understand? Now take action.”

  Barclay managed to swallow the lump in his throat enough to say, “I w-w-would s-step toward you.”

  Gowron almost came out of his chair. “My guards would kill you if I did not stop them! Fool! Your action would be seen as a personal challenge to me.” Gowron leaned across the table and touched the handle of his knife, causing it to vibrate again. “And trust me, human. You would not want to challenge me.”

  Barclay stopped his head from nodding and said, “I would step forward and accept the presents.”

  A huge smile broke across Gowron’s face. “Now you are getting the idea. Pok honored me by accepting and taking my presents. If he had not done so, it would have been a dishonor. Understand?”

  Barclay found himself again nodding harder than he needed to.

  Gowron took another drink and sat back. “Now, let me get back to my story.”

  “Pok took my presents from my guard. I must admit, with pride, that they were almost more than the boy could carry. But he managed as any good son would have done.

  “‘My house thanks you for what you have given us, Gowron,’ Torghn said.

  “I waved his comment away. ‘I, above all others, know what you give up for me. For the Empire.’

  “‘When my ancestors conquered Taganika,’ Torghn said, ‘and set up rule over the planets in this sector, they did so in service to the Empire. But now, the Empire’s needs have changed, and we must change with it.’

  “‘Well spoken, Torghn,’ I said to him. ‘But others here on Taganika do not see things as you do, my friend. The ancient houses have ruled these planets for many years, and it has brought them great wealth.’

  “‘That is a truth,’ Torghn said.

  “‘They may not be as willing as you,’ I said, ‘to give up their power.’

  “‘For the future of the Empire,’ Torghn said, ‘we will sacrifice the planets our grandfathers conquered, and that will bring us great honor.’

  “Torghn took a step closer to me after saying that, and my guards moved in his way.

  “I pulled them away. ‘Enough. Do you think Torghn would allow me to come to harm in his home? I trust the house of SepIch to protect me. Leave us.’

  “My guards both hesitated, as they should, then turned and moved to stand position near the door. No matter what my words, they would not be far from my side.

  “I put my arm around Torghn’s shoulder and we turned to face the room. All of the guests had gone back to their conversations, and across the room I saw K’Tar, Torghn’s wife and Pok’s mother. She was as beautiful as the first time I laid eyes on her.

  “Torghn and I were on a mission together, honoring the Empire. The mission is now of little importance, but during that time we met K’Tar. We both fell in love, but I had rank over Torghn. She was mine if I wanted. But I knew Torghn’s father had just died and he was returning to his family home to take control of the ancient house. I planned to continue in space, fighting as a warrior for the Empire. I had no place for a woman. So I let Torghn woo her.

  “‘Your wife looks well,’ I said to Torghn.

  “Torghn glanced across the room to where I was looking, and smiled. ‘Yes. Do you now regret that you did not take her as a wife?’

  “I laughed softly. ‘My friend, she has brought you great happiness. And a son. There is nothing to regret.’

  “Torghn and I turned and there stood Pok, still holding his presents.

  “‘What do you stand there for?” Torghn asked. ‘Go put your presents down. Bring some food back with you.’

  “As we watched, Pok moved along the long table of food and passed near K’Tar. But as he neared the table to place the presents, he tripped and dropped them.

  “K’Tar turned to Pok with an annoyed expression and both Torghn and I both managed to restrain our laughter.

  “But then from a side door stepped Vok. Vok, my enemy. Torghn’s hated neighbor. I always thought he seemed more Romulan in his honorless existence.

  “Vok stepped forward and stood over Pok. ‘It is hard to believe one so clumsy and slow is capable of hunting TKnag.’

  “Torghn started to move forward, but I stopped him with a touch to his arm. This was not his fight at the moment. But it seemed K’Tar thought it was hers.

  “‘My son saves his skills for the hunting of beasts,’ she said. Then glaring at him she added, ‘and enemies.’

  “Vok laughed. ‘Our houses have stood door-to-door for generations. Must we continue to be enemies?’ He moved toward K’Tar and made a motion to stroke her face.

  “She growled at him, and then swifter than most warriors she drew out a knife and twisted his arm behind his back, holding the knife to his throat. Then, mimicking his words, she said, ‘It is hard to believe one so stupid and weak is capable of running a Klingon house.’

  “Vok again laughed, seemingly not bothered by the knife at his throat. ‘Why, K’Tar. Flirting at your age. What will Torghn say?’

  “Again I held Torghn’s arm as she released Vok. Then speaking to Pok, but looking directly into Vok’s face, she said, ‘Throw this veQ out.’

  “Pok stood and moved toward Vok, reaching for the unwanted guest.

  “‘bIyem’a’!’ Vok said.

  “Pok stopped short of grabbing Vok, but from where Torghn and I stood we could tell he wanted very much to kill the man. And I had no doubt he might have been able to do just that. He was such a strong young boy.

  “‘The celebration,’ Vok said, ‘was declared a lop’no. You have invited the spirits of all our Klingon ancestors. Tradition dictates that all are welcome to the lop ‘no. Even ancient rivals. Even me, K’Tar.’

  “‘Chut Ouj,’ K’Tar said.

  “‘Lug ratlh,’ Pok said, almost spitting his words at Vok.”

  Gowron glanced around at his audience in the crowded bar, then took another long swallow before facing Barclay.

  Barclay had been afraid this moment was coming. He was starting to understand what his role in this story was to be. Gowron couldn’t make fools of Commander Riker or Captain Picard or Commander Sisko or Admiral Jellico. And Lieutenant Worf knew the answers to Gowron’s questions. So to tell his story, Gowron needed someone to run through the possibilities, to make his points to the others.

  And Barclay was the unlucky one. Why hadn’t he stayed back on the Enterprise? This never would have happened.

  “Well Barclay?” Gowron said, leaning forward. “Speak. If you were young Pok, what would you do?”

  Barclay shook his head side to side. “I-I don’t know,” he said. “I-I-I don’t unders-s-stand Klingon.”

  “Bah,” Gowron said, dismissing Barclay’s attempt to escape the question. “You don’t need to understand our language to understand us as a people. Now answer.”

  “I-I-I would turn to K’Tar,” Barclay said, his words rushing out.

  “And challenge her? Your own mother?” Gowron broke down into hard laugh
ter not shared by the others at the table. Finally Gowron looked up at Barclay. “Pok is still a boy until the Rite of Ascension. He must do what his mother asks without question until then. Guess again, human.”

  Barclay glanced at Riker who looked almost amused. “Pok sh-sh-should throw out the enemy.”

  Gowron again laughed, and this time Worf snorted his disgust.

  “So you think Pok, only a boy, should go against generations of tradition, dishonor his ancestors by ignoring the lop ‘no?”

  Barclay shook his head. “Pok should s-s-step back.”

  “Now you have it,” Gowron said, lifting his glass and saluting Barclay in very much a mocking fashion.

  “It seems it is getting late,” Admiral Jellico said.

  “Ah, Admiral, I warned you my story was a long one. I have not even reached the death of my good friend.”

  Picard leaned forward. “Gowron, would it be possible to continue this story tomorrow, after the meetings? I think we can all learn from your tale.”

  Gowron nodded. “As always, Picard, you speak wisely. Tomorrow it is, then.”

  They all stood.

  Barclay watched as they started to leave the table. He almost began to think he’d escaped when Gowron turned to him.

  “Barclay. Tomorrow you learn how a Klingon boy becomes a warrior.”

  Picard and Riker both smiled as Barclay nodded. It didn’t look as if there was any escaping this story for him. He was trapped.

  Gowron slapped Barclay hard on the back, in the same place where Riker had slapped him. He staggered forward a step.

  “Do not worry, Federation engineer,” Gowron said. “Knowledge will not harm you this time.”

  Barclay only nodded, biting his lip against the intense stinging on his back. The knowledge might not hurt him, but the comforting might kill him.

  Chapter Three

  COMMANDER RIKER MOTIONED for Dax to wait for him a moment, then watched until Picard, Sisko, Barclay, Gowron, and Jellico were at the entrance to Quark’s.