Star Trek: Klingon!

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “I noticed that the table was full of the best Klingon foods, as it should have been in a house run by Torghn. Gagh worms, Rokeg blood Pie, heart of Targ, Bregit lung, and others. It makes my mouth water just thinking of such food.

  “Young Pok hesitated a moment, then picked up a dish full of gagh, my favorite. I do not know how he had such knowledge. But his choice pleased me.

  “I took the dish offered by the young boy and moved into the dining room with Torghn. Torghn’s younger brother, Qua’lon bowed and welcomed me and together we moved to a table.

  “Young Pok hesitated, not certain if he should sit with the men or move to the end of the room where the women and younger children were eating.

  “I offered him a chair near his father. ‘Sit.’

  “But for a moment the young boy hesitated, as he should have done at such a moment.

  “‘Do not look as if you have tripped over a woman,’ I said. ‘Sit.’

  “‘Yes,’ Torghn said. ‘Sit.’

  “‘A woman?” Qua’lon said, laughing as Pok sat down. ‘I doubt he knows what to do with a woman.’

  “Everyone laughed for a moment, then I said, ‘Enough joking. Soon one of us will go too far and find a ghojmeH taj at our throats. Open your cha’nob, boy.’

  “Torghn nodded to K’Tar who went and retrieved the presents. She first handed Pok a large book, bound in a fine hide. Pok took it, a puzzled look on his face, and broke the seal. Inside it contained a musical score.

  “‘Do you not know what that is?” Qua’lon asked.

  “K’Tar laughed. ‘The young are ignorant of their family’s history.’

  “Qua’lon looked at me, a sad expression on his face. Then he turned back to young Pok. ‘It is a score to Qul tuq. Can it be you have never heard the opera that tells the tale of our family’s house?’

  “Then Qua’lon began to sing, and for the next few minutes his wonderful deep voice filled the house.

  “When he finished he turned to Pok, who still looked a little puzzled.

  “Qua’lon turned to his brother Torghn. ‘The boy is ignorant.’

  “Torghn sighed. ‘Perhaps I have spent too much time teaching him to hunt, and not enough teaching him to sing.’

  “I waved the two brothers to silence and turned to Pok. ‘The next. Open another.’

  “Pok was handed a second present. This one had my metal seal around it. I had watched as that seal was placed on the box.

  “Pok took out his knife and broke the seal with a flick of his wrist, then put the knife on the table in front of him. He pulled the lid off the box and I watched as his face came alive with pleasure. Carefully he reached into the box and took out the Acta crystal.

  “‘That is as useful as latinum, young Pok,’ I said.

  “Torghn sat forward staring at the crystal, then looked up at me. ‘My friend,’ he said. ‘The crystal is bigger than—’

  “Suddenly something else came out of the box in front of Pok. Something I had not put in that box. The item was the size of a fat human cigar. It lifted out of the box and hovered over the table.”

  Gowron looked around at his audience in the bar and smiled. “Does anyone know what that object might have been?”

  Picard nodded. “From your description,” he said, “it sounds like a Romulan assassin probe.”

  Gowron slapped the table hard, smiling “Very good, Captain. It most assuredly was an assassin probe hovering right in front of the young boy, Pok.”

  “So what happened?” Admiral Jellico asked. Riker glanced at him, surprised. It was the first time the admiral had seemed interested in Gowron’s story.

  Gowron gave the admiral a stern look. “My friend Torghn yelled out, “HoHwI’ A hunter killer. petaD!”

  Gowron turned to Barclay. “Young sir, pretend you are Pok. In front of you hovers an assassin probe, moving, searching for its programmed target. You have a knife and the crystal in front of you. What would you do?”

  Riker almost laughed out loud at Barclay’s look of panic. It was clear he had no idea even what a Romulan assassin probe was, let alone what Pok might be able to do to stop it.

  “I-I-I think Pok should grab the knife,” Barclay said.

  Gowron laughed, then stared intently at Barclay. “You think you can defend against a HoHwI’ with a ghojmeH taj? Your knife against a Romulan hunter killer probe? No, you must stalk it as it stalks its prey. Now, what would you do?”

  Barclay looked directly at Gowron, then said, “I-I don’t know what an Acta crystal is. Should I pick it?”

  Gowron shook his head. “A mere trinket. Nothing of note when a Klingon is about to die.”

  Barclay nodded.

  Riker took pity on the lieutenant. “Barclay,” he said. “A hunter killer probe is programmed for a specific target. Stopping it always causes it to explode.”

  Barclay nodded and Riker could see the look of thanks in his eyes. It was clear Barclay hadn’t gotten much sleep last night worrying about this session.

  Barclay turned back to Gowron. “I would freeze in position until I saw the probe’s intended t-t-target.”

  Gowron nodded. “Correct. Freezing is an action.” He took a deep, long drink of his blood wine, then motioned for Quark to bring him another before he settled back into his story.

  “I have no idea how the probe was placed into my package for Pok. But it took only a moment before it became clear I was the target. The probe seemed to hover, moving back and forth until it stopped, aimed directly at my heart.

  “I was prepared to die. And at that moment I expected to.

  “The assassin probe suddenly started at me. I moved to the left, but I moved too slow. However, my friend Torghn did not. He leapt in front of me, taking the probe into the center of his chest.

  “He fell, face up, on the table.

  “My momentum tumbled me to the floor where my two guards covered me. By the time they let me up, Qua’lon had reached his brother’s side and had put his ear to Torghn’s chest.

  “After a moment he looked up at me and stood. ‘He did not even see the face of his enemy.’”

  Silence ruled the table at the back of Quark’s bar as everyone stared at Gowron. He took a sip of his blood wine, his thoughts far away.

  Riker glanced at Dax, then back at Gowron.

  For the next minute no one interrupted the leader of the High Council’s private thoughts.

  Chapter Six

  PICARD GLANCED AT ADMIRAL JELLICO as Gowron sat in silence. Jellico seemed to be thinking. Picard hoped so. Jellico needed to understand that Klingons had emotions, feelings, friendships, and honor. Their emotions might be expressed in different manners from humans, but they were very much an honorable people. The Federation would be stronger having the Klingons as friends. But it was Jellico’s blindness to that fact that was clearly the stopping point in the meetings.

  Gowron understood Jellico’s blind spot and was obviously staging this story in the hope of accomplishing here in Quark’s bar what he couldn’t get done in the official meetings.

  And Picard would do everything in his power to help him. And Picard had no doubt that even Barclay understood the importance of the story he was playing a part in.

  Gowron sat forward. “I will continue.”

  “Qua’lon, standing over his brother’s body, did what any Klingon warrior would do. He demanded vengeance.

  “‘Do not let vengeance cloud your mind,’ I told him. ‘There is a ritual to be performed. Vengeance will wait for that.’

  “Qua’lon looked at me, the shock and pain clear. He growled very low, then said, ‘You are right. I will—’

  “I interrupted him. ‘No. It is not your place.’

  “At that moment we all turned to face Pok, the young boy who had just lost his father.

  “It was Pok’s place, as Torghn’s oldest son.”

  Gowron sat forward, looking at Barclay. Picard didn’t envy the young lieutenant’s position, facing the head of the Klingon
High Council. Picard had done so, and he knew the power of Gowron. And right now all that power was focused over the knife at Barclay.

  “Do you understand,” Gowron said, his voice low and mean, “what has occurred?”

  Barclay nodded but said nothing.

  “Then what should young Pok do? His father, dead on the table. His father’s brother demanding vengeance. I also stand there in the crowd waiting for the young boy’s decision. Should Pok move toward me, toward his uncle, or go to his dead father?”

  Barclay glanced around the table, hoping for help. Picard made his face stay blank. He knew the right answer, because he knew Klingon rituals. But Barclay would have no way of knowing. Gowron was clearly testing him for a reason.

  “M-m-move toward you?” Barclay said.

  Gowron shook his head no. “I know the scene of death I have described is shocking to you humans. But the cowardliness of this assassination shocks even a Klingon’s heart. Do not be confused by this. Approaching me at that moment would be deemed a challenge and an accusation that I was responsible for Torghn’s death. I would have had to kill young Pok if he had done that.”

  Barclay visibly shuddered. “Th-th-then I sh-sh-should not pick Pok’s uncle, either?”

  Gowron smiled. “You are right. You should not. It would also be a challenge. Pok should go to his father’s body for the death ritual.”

  Gowron took another drink and sat back, his voice level as if telling a part of the story he would rather not have told. Picard understood. He’d witnessed one Klingon death ritual and he hoped he’d never go through another.

  “Young Pok moved toward the body of my dead friend. Torghn’s eyes were closed and Pok leaned over his father. With one hand Pok opened his father’s eyes. Then, moving so that his nose almost touched his father’s, he looked into Torghn’s eyes.

  “Slowly, the young boy soon to be warrior let out a low moan. It grew in intensity and as it did so the rest of us joined in.

  “All of us.

  “Men.

  “Women.

  “Children.

  “We all moaned the loss of a great warrior until it became a great cry to the skies.

  “I moaned the loss of a good friend. A friend of mine. A friend of the Empire.

  “Then the loud death yell stopped.

  “We stood in silence. Torghn’s arrival with the Black Fleet had been announced. There was nothing more we could do. His soul had left his body.

  “I moved to Pok and pulled him away from his father’s body. Then I pulled out the killer probe and studied it. As I had expected. Romulan. A coward’s way to kill.

  “‘It would have killed me,’ I told them, ‘if Torghn had not taken the full force of the probe.’ I said what all knew, but I wanted to be sure my debt was clear.

  “K’Tar touched her husband’s hand, then turned to me. The look in her eyes would have stopped a charging beast. ‘Was the seal on the present broken?’

  “I placed the probe on the table, picked up the box. ‘No,’ I said, studying it. ‘Yet I sealed the cha’nob myself, days ago. Long before I left for Taganika.’

  “Qua’lon picked up the probe and studied it. ‘A cowardly way to kill. No Klingon would use such a method.’ With disgust he dropped the probe back on the table and Vok picked it up.

  “‘I wish I could agree,’ I said to Torghn’s brother. ‘But the days when that was true are gone. There are too many Klingons who would use such methods today.’

  “I watched as Qua’lon’s eyes narrowed. Then he said, ‘Vok!’ He spun around to face his neighbor.

  “Vok still held the probe, but he had taken it apart. He glanced up at Qua’lon. ‘A clever device. And so effective.’

  “‘Vok!’ Qua’lon said. His voice had a level of firmness in it I had not heard before from him. ‘Your hatred of Gowron and my brother are well known.’

  “‘True,’ Vok said, not looking at me. ‘I would weep for neither. But there is no proof that—’

  “Qua’lon grabbed the disassembled probe from Vok’s hands. ‘You have destroyed the proof.’ He tossed the remains of the probe on the table next to Torghn’s body.

  “‘What?’ Vok said. It was clear he did not understand Qua’lon’s thirst for vengeance.

  “‘Vok, you verengan Ha’DIbaH!’Qua’lon said. He stepped toward Vok. ‘I shall have revenge on you and your house.’

  “Before Vok could defend himself, Qua’lon drew his knife and plunged it into Vok’s stomach, holding it there until the Klingon closed his surprised eyes and died.

  “Qua’lon pulled out his knife, letting Vok’s body drop to the floor. Then he turned and placed the bloody knife on the table in front of young Pok.

  “‘This is the knife,’ Qua’lon said to Pok, ‘that killed the man who killed your father. I give it to you to show the circle of vengeance is closed.’

  “I leaned forward and picked up the knife.

  “Qua’lon turned to face me, clearly stunned.

  “‘I understand the passion of your actions, Qua’lon,’ I said. ‘I too have killed for vengeance. But the circle of vengeance is far from closed.’

  “Qua’lon stood in front of me, stunned.

  “Finally he spoke. ‘You saw yourself He tried to destroy the probe. Vok condemned himself. He killed my brother.’

  “‘Yes, but think, Qua’lon,’ I said. ‘Vok is a small man from this provincial world. To place an assassin probe in my belongings would be impossible for a single man. The package was tampered with long before it got here. There were others involved. Now that Vok is dead, we may never know who they are.’

  “I could tell Qua’lon was clearly stunned at my words. But he also realized I spoke the truth.

  “‘I do not regret what I have done,’ he said. ‘But you are right. There are others involved. The circle is not closed.’

  “I turned away from Qua’lon and moved to a place beside the body of my friend. ‘I will swear an oath. A blood oath. To find all who are responsible for the death of my friend.’

  “‘I will join you,’ Qua’lon said.

  “I held up my hand for him to stop. ‘No. You must stay here. Protect the House of SepIch. Vok’s house may seek revenge of their own.’

  “‘But—’ Qua’lon started to protest, but I stopped him.

  “‘No. I need allies here. It will have to be another who joins me.’

  “I picked up Torghn’s knife by the blade. I closed my hand around it hard until it cut through my palm and the blood felt wet between my fingers. Then I took the knife away and slapped my bloody hand down hard on the chest of my dead friend.

  “I held my hand there and looked around. ‘Who will swear a blood oath with me?’”

  Gowron sat forward and pulled the knife out of the table in front of Barclay. He held it in his hand and asked, “Barclay? It is time for young Pok to make another choice.”

  Barclay nodded. But before he could say anything, Admiral Jellico broke in.

  “You said the man Vok was killed for vengeance? Was he ever proven guilty of a crime?”

  Gowron laughed. “Admiral, you jump ahead of my story. But I can tell you this. Vok was later proven to be involved in the cowardly death of Torghn.”

  Gowron turned back to Barclay. “You have had time.”

  Barclay again glanced around and the simple glance angered Gowron.

  “Bah,” he said. “Humans and their need to think before acting. Klingons learn the opposite when they are children. When your brother says, ‘Do this’ then you do it, or you poise yourself to fight.”

  Gowron paused, then looked at Riker. “If a woman bares her teeth at you, you hold her off, or poise yourself to love.” Gowron turned his attention back to Barclay. “Either way, the path is action. Consequences are dealt with later.”

  “B-b-but action requires knowing,” Barclay said. “I-I-I don’t even know Pok’s choices of action.”

  Gowron laughed. “Two choices, Barclay of Starfleet. Swear or
do not swear the blood oath.”

  “H-h-he would swear.”

  “And that he did do,” Gowron said.

  “I felt pride in young Pok at that time. He took his father’s knife, cut his palm, and placed his bloodied hand on mine on his father’s chest.

  “His grip was firm. His hand hard. Not that of a child’s.

  “With me he repeated the words.

  “‘I swear on the river of blood in my veins. Vengeance on those who killed my friend, my father, Torghn! Quapla!’

  “All the others around us shouted ‘Quapla!’

  “And the oath was sworn.

  “Then Qua’lon stepped forward. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Pok has yet to complete the Second Rite of Ascension. In the eyes of the nugh tlhegh, he is still a boy. Would you have him seek vengeance before he has become a man?’

  “‘No, Qua’lon,’ I said. ‘I will not take a boy on a man’s voyage. Tonight we will complete the Rite of Ascension. Then we will seek out those who killed your brother.’”

  Picard watched as Gowron stopped his story and took a long drink of blood wine. Admiral Jellico seemed interested at one moment and disgusted the next.

  Picard found it all fascinating, not only for Gowron’s story but for the fact that he was telling it here, at this conference.

  Chapter Seven

  THE LIGHTS ON THE PANELS were the only light on the bridge of the Bird of Prey. It hung in space over Qu’nos the homeworld of the Empire, waiting. Ten other ships waited with it.

  Waited for news of Gowron’s death.

  The wait had lasted for days and the humor had left the ships.

  The communications officer turned from his panel to face the command chair. A woman sat there. Another stood at her side. They were both dressed as Klingon warriors. Knives hung from their belts. Knives that had known blood.

  “There is a message coming in,” the officer said. “Coded Deep Space.”

  The woman in the command chair sprang to her feet. “The moment is here,” she said, moving around to stand above the communication panel.

  “Do not be so hasty, B’Etor,” the other woman said, also moving to the panel. “We do not know the nature of the news.”