by Dayton Ward
The other two Klingons responded quickly, each moving to avoid their stumbling friends. The menace in their eyes was unmistakable as they closed on Koloth.
“Here we go,” Sulu said as he moved to assist, but the helmsman need not have bothered. Koloth rushed the two oncoming opponents, driving into them with bone-jarring force that lifted both Klingons off their feet and sent them tumbling into a nearby table.
By this time the first two Klingons had regained their balance and were moving to enter the fray. Sulu saw that Koloth was facing away from the new threat and charged ahead. Ducking under the arm swing of the first Klingon, he lashed out with his leg toward his companion. The kick took the Klingon in the chest, forcing the air from his lungs with a loud grunt.
The Klingon who had missed Sulu turned to try again and was greeted by Kirk, taking advantage of his opponent’s momentary disorientation to deliver a round-house punch to the side of the attacker’s head. Pain erupted in his hand as it made contact with the dense bone of the Klingon’s skull, but he had no time to be distracted by it.
“Captain! Watch out!”
Kirk saw the Klingon’s arm sweeping toward him at the same time he heard Sulu’s shout of alarm. Instinct took over and he pivoted away from the attack, causing the Klingon to overextend himself and fall forward. Kirk seized the opportunity and kicked out, striking the Klingon in the face with the toe of his boot and sending his opponent crashing to the floor.
Koloth in the meantime had dispatched one of the two Klingons he had charged. The fallen Klingon lay in a disjointed heap across one of the tables as his partner stepped forward, light gleaming off the polished blade of the knife he now wielded in his right hand.
“You have invited your death today, outsider,” the Klingon hissed, waving the knife and describing an intricate pattern in the air before him. “Your blood will feed the insects that cower beneath the floorboards.”
Staring down his adversary with the same expression of near amusement on his face, Koloth replied, “Today is as good a day to die as any. Show me your warrior’s rage if you can.”
The Klingon snarled something unintelligible before raising his knife above his head and uttering a gut-wrenching war cry. As he charged toward him, Koloth did not tense up in readiness to defend himself. Instead he almost serenely stepped to one side at the last possible second and as his attacker’s momentum began to carry him past, Koloth drove his right knee with merciless force into the Klingon’s abdomen. At the same instant he delivered a chop to the back of his opponent’s neck with the edge of his left hand. The vicious double attack was devastating, driving the Klingon to unconsciousness even before he struck the floor.
Sulu backpedaled to avoid the sharp blade of his opponent’s knife and abruptly struck the wall behind him with the heel of his boot. He dodged to his right as the Klingon swung his knife toward his head. His attacker swore as his blade stuck in the aged wood of the tavern wall. Sulu took advantage of the distraction and leapt forward, striking out with a savage kick that sent his opponent flailing into a group of unused chairs. The Klingon tried to grab one of the chairs for balance but his weight was too much and he tumbled to the floor, striking his head on the edge of a table as he fell.
Elsewhere in the tavern, Kirk was still dealing with his rival, who had regained his feet and was closing the distance between them once more. Seeing a tankard lying atop a nearby table, Kirk grabbed it and swung it in a high arc just as he felt the brush of the Klingon’s fingers on his shirt. His opponent saw the attack coming and was able to defend against it, grabbing Kirk’s wrist and pulling the Enterprise captain off balance. Kirk crashed to the floor, the impact forcing the air from his lungs.
Okay, this is not going well at all.
He saw the knife in the corner of his eye just as the Klingon swung the blade downward. Kirk rolled away from the attack and tried to stand, but a wayward chair that he should have noticed before foiled his efforts. As he tripped and fell back to the floor of the tavern he saw the Klingon looming closer, his knife searching for a target.
The attack never came as another shadow fell across Kirk’s face. A dark, hooded figure in soiled robes rushed forward, catching the Klingon by surprise. The new arrival carried what looked to Kirk to be a canvas knapsack, stuffed to near bursting, which he drove with unrestrained force into the stomach of Kirk’s opponent. The Klingon grunted in both surprise and pain at the unexpected attack, dropping his knife in the process. The blade fell to the tavern floor and the new arrival kicked it out of its owner’s reach as he brought the knapsack around for another strike. This one caught the Klingon in the side of the head and he fell to the floor and stayed there.
Kirk watched in amazement as the new arrival turned to face him and offered his hand. The Enterprise captain took hold and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.
“Thank you,” he said. “I thought he might have had me there for a moment.” He indicated Sulu and Koloth, who were working their way toward him. “Perhaps my companions and I might buy you a drink, to express our appreciation.”
“Just as well,” the robed figure replied as he reached for his hood. “The barkeep tells me you and your friends have been looking for me.”
His free hand pulled the hood of his ragged robe away from his head, and for the first time the dim lighting of the tavern cast itself across the new arrival’s face. Despite the thicker beard, longer hair smattered with more than a touch of gray, and the large eminent cranial ridges, Kirk realized he was looking into the face of K’zeq.
Chapter Seventeen
“CAPTAIN? Are you all right?” Kirk managed to stop staring at K’zeq long enough to nod to Sulu as the helmsman moved toward him. “I think so.” He rubbed his arm and grimaced in both the pain he felt now and the bone-numbing ache he knew would greet him in the morning. Smiling ruefully at Sulu, he added, “I think I’m starting to get too old for this sort of thing, but if you say anything to McCoy, I’ll deny it.”
“It’s not the years, sir,” Sulu said with a grin, “it’s the mileage.”
Koloth strolled toward them, and Kirk noted that the Klingon had retrieved his bloodwine. “An engaging way to spend a few minutes, but ultimately dissatisfying, wouldn’t you say, Kirk?” The Klingon punctuated his sentence by downing his tankard’s contents and tossing the empty vessel over his shoulder.
Sulu, who, like Koloth, was not even breathing hard, nodded in the direction of the two Klingons Koloth had dispatched with relative ease. “That was some show you put on. I’d be interested in learning some of those techniques.”
Snorting in derision, Koloth dismissed their now unconscious opponents with a wave of his hand. “They are undisciplined and clumsy, the result of too many years spent drinking and rotting away on this backwater mudball and not enough time honing their skills as warriors. I could have killed them all easily, but there would have been no honor in it.”
Kirk directed Koloth’s attention to his unexpected benefactor. “May I introduce K’zeq, to whom I owe my thanks, by the way.”
Ignoring Kirk and his offer of gratitude, K’zeq instead focused his attention on Koloth. “Who are you and why are you looking for me?”
“I am Koloth, and my companions and I require information that you possess.”
Nodding, K’zeq said, “I have heard of Koloth. You have long been known as a formidable military commander with many glorious victories to your credit. You honor me with your presence.”
Koloth waved the platitudes away. “There is no time for that. You once commanded a prison facility. I require information about it.”
Shaking his head, K’zeq replied, “You have sought out the wrong person. Your information is incorrect.”
In response, Koloth produced the small datapad from beneath his robes and activated it. Still stored in the device’s memory core, the service record he had received from Gorkon appeared on its miniature screen. He held it up for K’zeq to see, and once again Kirk saw the picture o
f the Klingon that Koloth had shown them earlier and noted the resemblance between the picture and the Klingon now standing before them. As he had noticed in Koloth before, the telltale clues came with the eyes. K’zeq’s burned with the same fire as the severe-looking soldier in the picture.
Kirk watched as K’zeq stared at the image, recognition registering on his face even though he almost managed to keep his facial features under control. His eyes betrayed him, though, and Kirk imagined the memories that must be reliving themselves in K’zeq’s mind.
“Do you deny that this is you?” Koloth pressed.
Finally, K’zeq shook his head and Kirk breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe this detour would prove beneficial after all.
“That was me,” K’zeq said. “But it is a part of my life I choose to forget. I was a different person then, young and misguided. I have since moved beyond the weakness of my youth and have attempted to strive toward a higher ideal.” He paused, eyes locking with Koloth’s for several seconds before adding, “Surely you understand that?”
To Kirk’s surprise, Koloth nodded in agreement. “I do indeed understand. Like you, I too have a past that I would like to forget, and were this any other occasion I would respect your wishes. However, the situation I now face requires that I impose upon you this one time.”
Watching the two Klingons, Kirk got the sudden feeling that their conversation was taking place on two separate levels. There was the obvious communication, with simple answers being given to straightforward questions. However, the ambiguous statements Koloth was using appeared to convey a great deal to the other Klingon, because Kirk could see K’zeq relax somewhat as Koloth spoke.
K’zeq nodded to himself as if arriving at some decision. “State your request.”
“Tell us about the Starfleet personnel who were interred at your prison.”
K’zeq’s eyes widened, the Klingon obviously not expecting anything like that. He recovered quickly though and shrugged.
“A group of Starfleet spies was brought to my prison several years ago. Their ship had been captured in Klingon space while conducting espionage.”
“Espionage?” Sulu repeated. For a frantic moment Kirk was worried that they might blow their cover, but K’zeq didn’t seem to take notice at Sulu’s reaction.
Instead, he nodded in confirmation to the question. “Their ship was destroyed when they attempted to escape back into Federation territory. Many of the crew were killed in the battle, but the survivors were brought to me, including their captain.” The Klingon’s mouth curled into a snarl. “She was an Andorian, and she was executed for her role in ordering an attack on a Klingon vessel.”
Kirk’s gut told him that K’zeq was telling the truth, at least as he understood it to be, but it didn’t make the blunt statement of Captain Gralev’s fate any easier to swallow.
“Who told you about espionage?” Sulu asked, once again acting the role of a Klingon.
This time, K’zeq glared at the Enterprise helmsman for a moment before replying, a strange suspicious look on his face mixing with an expression which conveyed that he did not appreciate Sulu addressing him. Rather than responding to Sulu, he instead directed his answer to Koloth.
“I was informed by the captain of the vessel who delivered the prisoners to me. They remained in my charge until their trial, which was held several months later. Afterward, some of the prisoners were returned to me. I don’t know what happened to the others, but at the time I assumed they were either returned to the Federation or executed for their crimes.”
“There was no trial,” Kirk said.
With eyes boring into Kirk in the same manner that had skewered Sulu, K’zeq snapped, “Do you call me a liar?”
Kirk shook his head. “No, of course not. It’s just that according to interstellar law, the government of the accused person must be notified prior to the commencement of legal proceedings. The Federation was never informed of any trial.”
“I know only what I was told,” K’zeq replied. “The High Council informed me of the trial and had me prepare the prisoners for transport. They were taken from my prison and some were returned three weeks later.” Turning his attention back to Koloth, he added, “Why do you consort with these dogs who insult me and accuse the High Council of wrongdoing?”
“He is right,” Koloth replied. “If there was a trial, then it was for appearances only.”
K’zeq’s mouth opened in profound shock and remained that way, the succinct indictment catching him without warning. Such a statement would be perceived as treasonous in some circles.
“What would lead you to such a conclusion?” he asked.
Again, Koloth produced the datapad and, using the information Gorkon had delivered to him, described the details of the surprise attack on the Gagarin and the seizure of at least part of its crew. As he listened, K’zeq’s expression grew more alarmed with each passing second.
“Are you saying that a Klingon vessel crossed into Federation space without the authority of the High Council, attacked a Starfleet vessel, and took prisoners for no valid military reason?”
Koloth said, “The Council as a whole had no knowledge of the attack. However, there were members of the Council who were aware of the incident but chose to cover it up. Peace talks with the Federation were beginning, and the Empire was in dire need of some sort of agreement allowing it to expand its borders into territory possessing resource-rich planets such as those on the Federation side of the Neutral Zone.”
K’zeq nodded. “The prisoners could have proven valuable if negotiations stalled.”
“Exactly,” Koloth replied. “And for whatever reason, the talks did fail, and even though the prisoners did not prove useful then, there were those on the Council who thought they might be needed at some later point. So they were sent to various prisons, including yours, where their commanders were fed lies about them and where they were eventually forgotten by all except those few who might one day have use for them.”
K’zeq appeared almost dumbstruck with disbelief. “Can the Council itself be susceptible to such corruption?” He shook his head. “I cannot accept that. There is no honor in such deceitful action.”
“And it is something that we seek to correct,” Koloth replied. “Negotiations are once more under way with the Federation. There is real hope that they will succeed, at least in some measure. Some members of the Council believe that cannot happen until this affront to our honor is dealt with. However, there are those who would rather pretend the incident never occurred rather than do the honorable thing and admit their misdeeds.”
Koloth locked eyes with the other Klingon. “As a warrior pledged to uphold the teachings of Kahless, I cannot stand by and allow that to happen. You appear to value honor, K’zeq, or is that merely a facade? Do you embrace Kahless, or merely defile his image for your own gain?”
K’zeq stiffened at the challenge. “I strive to live by the standards forged by Kahless each day of my life. To stand and do nothing in the face of this dishonor is as much an insult to Kahless as any direct action I might take. What do you mean to do?”
Stepping forward, Sulu answered, “The prisoners will be returned to the Federation, hopefully in a manner that prevents a volatile incident between them and the Empire.”
K’zeq abruptly let loose with a hearty laugh before leaning close to Sulu. In a low voice he said, “I knew that if I was patient, one of you would reveal your true nature.” He indicated Kirk with a wave of his hand. “You two are not Klingons, and I suspect you are Earthers, probably Starfleet.”
He held up a hand at Kirk’s visible expression of alarm. “Worry not, friends. While a warrior of Koloth’s stature would most likely not keep the company of Klingons such as those you pretend to be, I can imagine him allying himself with Federation officials trying to secure the safe return of comrades taken in a pathetic act of cowardice.” Turning once more to Koloth, he said, “I will assist you in any way that I am able.”
Koloth nodded to the other Klingon. “I shall not forget this. You bring honor to Kahless and your house this day, my friend.”
Still puzzled, Kirk looked to K’zeq and asked, “When did you first suspect that we might not be Klingons?”
Chuckling again, K’zeq slapped Kirk on the back so hard that he nearly separated the captain’s shoulder.
“During the fight. You hit like a human.”
On the other side of the tavern, a lone figure sat at a table, a forgotten tankard of bloodwine sitting next to one large hand. Like other patrons in the bar, he wore a long flowing cloak over soiled clothing. He would have preferred to wear the cloak’s hood up in order to conceal his face, but that would have invited unwanted curiosity. Instead, he had taken up a position in a far corner of the tavern so as not to risk Koloth seeing and recognizing him. The Gal’tagh captain had not authorized any of his crew to transport to the planet’s surface, so to be seen here now would arouse immediate suspicion.
J’rgan’s original mission, to obtain any valuable information that might make itself available at Starbase 49 during the peace talks, had been interrupted when Koloth abruptly ordered the Gal’tagh ’s departure. The action had prompted a new assignment, this one given to him by Council member Komor himself. Komor had learned of Koloth’s actions, which had been undertaken at Gorkon’s request, but not the reasons behind them. It had therefore fallen to J’rgan to find out.
The assignment had not been easy. Koloth had offered no explanations to the crew for the sudden change in orders, instead citing the need for the strictest operational security. That was his prerogative, of course, but it tended to make a spy’s job that much more difficult.
A spy.
There was a time when J’rgan would have been ashamed to have such a loathsome title attached to his name. That, of course, was before he had been offered substantial compensation for his services. Honor was one thing, but it lost some of its luster when placed beside the comforts of life that could be had if one could only afford the purchase price.
