Star Trek #97: In the Name of Honor

by Dayton Ward

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, J’rgan knew his father, were he still alive, would be furious at having the lessons he had labored to teach discarded by his only son. J’rgan, however, had long since rid himself of any pressing guilt about that. His father had been an old man, out of step with the times and content to rest on the laurels of long-forgotten battles while pledging his steadfast devotion to principles that at the time were overwhelmingly unpopular. Even in the years after his father’s death, as the teachings of Kahless began to experience a resurgence of acceptance, J’rgan held to his own views. Honor could get you many things, but money could get them a lot faster and with a lot less effort.

  He had shadowed Koloth and the two unknown Klingons since making planetfall, having arranged to be transported down from the Gal’tagh without alerting the ship’s security officer. It had been a simple task, given his training and the tools at his disposal.

  The two strangers troubled him, boarding Gal’tagh as they had at Starbase 49. Where had they come from? No Klingons matching their description were assigned to the Terthos. In fact, very few were assigned to ships in the fleet these days at all. J’rgan knew that many such Klingons still served the Empire, but most had been relegated to low-priority or unglamorous assignments. Such was their reward, after all, for the choices they had made.

  At first he had considered the possibility that the two newcomers were defectors or undercover agents that had been repatriated. Those theories died quickly, though, when the Gal’tagh arrived at Don’zali IV. Now he was almost certain they were spies just as he was, working with Koloth toward some dark purpose on Gorkon’s behalf.

  As Koloth and the others moved toward the door of the tavern, J’rgan resisted the urge to follow them. They would be on the alert for anything suspicious, just as they had been the entire time he had been observing them. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get close enough to learn anything else of value.

  Instead, he decided the best course of action was to return to the ship and get his report to Komor. J’rgan himself had no idea as to the Council member’s reasons for this assignment, and didn’t particularly care. Let Kesh and Komor and his bureaucratic ilk play their political cloak and dagger games. Perhaps whatever they were after had potentially disastrous potential for their continued presence on the High Council, if not their very lives. None of this concerned J’rgan beyond the impact it might have on his receiving payment for his services.

  Chapter Eighteen

  SULU MOVED ABOUT the room in a slow, deliberate circle, the weight of the curved, bladed weapon comfortable in his hands. It had taken a few hours to get used to the feel of the bat’leth, but after practicing with it under Koloth’s watchful eye, he was beginning to understand the weapon’s elegance. Like the use of the swords he had mastered in his youth, the employment of a bat’leth was as much an art as it was a skill. It required keen balance as well as hand and eye coordination, even more so for a human, whose strength and body mass were smaller than that of the average Klingon.

  “Excellent!” Koloth said, he too wielding a bat’leth and circling in a similar fashion to Sulu, moving to keep the Enterprise helmsman in front of him. A huge grin broke out on the Klingon’s face as he twirled his weapon in his massive hands. “You move with the ease of a seasoned warrior. Except for that hideous makeup, you could almost pass for a real Klingon.”

  Sulu had no time to ponder the remark in depth, for at that moment Koloth stopped circling and charged. In fluid motion he set his feet and brought the blade over his head, slashing downward viciously. Sulu managed to get his own weapon up in time to parry the attack. The sound of the two blades striking was nearly deafening in the enclosed space.

  Twisting away from his opponent, Sulu pivoted on his left foot and brought his own bat’leth around, the weapon slicing through the air at chest level. Koloth spun his blade, countering the strike but not without being forced backward a step.

  Following with another attack, Sulu twirled his blade in an effort to side step Koloth’s defensive parry. He would have succeeded but for the Klingon’s own startling speed. His own weapon seemed to move of its own accord as if anticipating Sulu’s strike. The clash of metal on metal sang in the room once more.

  “Most impressive!” Koloth said, stepping backward and disengaging from the battle. “You are a remarkably quick study. Though you still have a long way to go to achieve true mastery of the bat’leth, I would rate your performance so far to be among the finest cadets at the military academy who’ve completed their first month’s training.”

  Sulu couldn’t help chuckling at Koloth’s deadpan delivery. The Klingon was ultimately unable to maintain a serious expression, laughing at his own joke.

  The doors of the exercise room parted, and Sulu and Koloth turned to see a visibly uncomfortable Kirk enter. Like Sulu, he was still dressed in his Klingon ensemble. Rubbing the small of his back, the Enterprise captain grimaced in pain.

  “I don’t know what’s worse, getting beaten up by a bar full of Klingons, or sleeping on a Klingon bed.”

  Sulu raised the Klingon weapon he still carried. “Some exercise will help stretch out the muscles, sir. I recommend the bat’leth drills. They’ll definitely get the blood pumping.”

  “Indeed,” Koloth added. “Mr. Sulu’s innate personal combat skills make him adept at learning the bat’leth. I must warn you, Captain, that at the rate he’s progressing, I may offer him a position among my crew by the time we reach Pao’la.”

  Kirk eyed Sulu, a mischievous grin playing at his lips. “I always knew you were ambitious, Commander. Being the first human to serve in the Klingon fleet would certainly get you noticed. I knew all that time you spent flying a Klingon ship would pay off one day.”

  Spinning the bat’leth in his hands, Sulu laughed again. “But we both know that’s not what I’m after.”

  Kirk nodded. Sulu was past due for promotion, of that the captain had been certain for quite some time. He also knew the helmsman possessed all of the qualities he would need to thrive as a starship captain. Kirk had recommended Sulu for his own command once already and had received enthusiastic endorsement from Starfleet. Much to his surprise, Sulu had declined. Kirk hadn’t been able to understand his helmsman’s reluctance to accept promotion, until he heard the reason.

  Excelsior.

  Since first laying eyes on the vessel nearly two years ago, Sulu had been enraptured by it. Larger and, in Kirk’s eyes at least, possessing none of the elegant lines of his own Enterprise, the Excelsior had been the first in a new design of deep-exploration starships. Kirk knew the more modern vessels were intended to replace the Enterprise and the other Constitution-class ships. They were designed to last longer, and engineers were predicting the longevity of their spaceframes at nearly a century.

  The ships would open up a whole new era of exploration, and the adventurer in Sulu wanted to be a part of that. Excelsior called to him in much the same way the Enterprise had enticed a young James Kirk. For that reason, the helmsman had opted to wait until the Excelsior became available before assuming the mantle of command, and Starfleet had grudgingly accepted, thanks in no small part to an appeal from Kirk himself on Sulu’s behalf.

  The Enterprise captain was therefore certain that Koloth would not succeed in wooing his helmsman away from Starfleet by the time they reached their destination.

  Pao’la, the remote jungle-covered planet that was the location of the prison K’zeq had once overseen. The Klingon had been a wealth of information regarding the prison once Koloth had convinced him to assist them. In addition to its location, they now knew what to expect in the way of personnel and defenses on both the exterior and interior of the prison, at least as they were during the time K’zeq had served there. They would still need to supplement their information with an on-site reconnoiter before they could begin to formulate a plan, but it was a start.

  Kirk looked around the room, examining the collection of weapons, armor, plaques, and other
assorted items. Every vessel he had ever traveled aboard had a room like this one, with prizes that spoke of glorious campaigns the vessel and its crew had taken part in.

  A statue situated in a lighted alcove caught his eye, depicting two figures locked in unarmed battle. The polished sculpture highlighted the straining muscles of each combatant, as though the fighters were embroiled in a great struggle of life and death.

  “Koloth, what is this?” Kirk asked.

  Seeing what Kirk was looking at, Koloth replied, “That is Kahless and his brother, Morath. According to legend, Morath brought shame to their family and Kahless opposed him. They fought for twelve days and twelve nights.” He added with a smile, “Kahless won, of course.”

  “You spoke of Kahless to K’zeq, back on Don’zali IV,” Kirk said. “Why is he significant?”

  Koloth was studying his bat’leth, noting scratches and blemishes in the gleaming surface of the blade. At first Kirk thought his question, like so many others he had asked since undertaking this mission, would go unanswered. But then the Klingon lowered the blade and slowly crossed the floor of the exercise room, his footsteps echoing on the bare metal of the deck plating. Walking up to the statue, he studied the figures embroiled in mortal combat for several seconds before finally responding.

  “Kahless the Unforgettable, the greatest Klingon warrior who ever lived. He united my people, single-handedly forging what would become the Klingon Empire. It is he who tells us of honor and courage and commitment, and how we must strive each day to live by the example he set for us.” Holding up the bat’leth, he continued, “Kahless defeated the tyrannical overlord Molor in mortal combat, using the first bat’leth, which he forged from fire with his own hands. Any Klingon with any shred of honor owes what he is to Kahless. Even now, fifteen hundred years after his death, Kahless guides us, so long as we are willing to listen. He is there when we go into battle and if we should fall honorably, we will join him in Sto-Vo-Kor.”

  Sulu nodded, awestruck with the intensity Koloth displayed as he spoke. “That’s some story.”

  “It is no story,” Koloth snapped as he moved to a weapons rack adorning one wall of the room and placed his bat’leth on an unused pair of pegs. Kirk noted the care with which the Klingon treated the weapon, as though he were a collector handling a prized possession.

  No, he decided, it was altogether different from that. Koloth had treated the formidable blade with an almost reverent touch. That made more sense, Kirk decided. Considering what Koloth had told them, after all, the bat’leth occupied a central point in Klingon culture, a symbol of strength and conviction in the face of chaos and tyranny.

  “The legend of Kahless,” Koloth continued, “is the foundation upon which the Empire stands. Without his guidance, we are doomed to a fate of self-destruction. For a time, that was forgotten by many Klingons. Other, selfish concerns blinded us to Kahless’ teachings, but that is beginning to change. His wisdom is being rediscovered and in time the Empire will return to its former glory.”

  When he had first heard Koloth refer to Kahless, Kirk remembered reading the name during Academy classes on Klingon culture. But he’d just spent the last sleepless night, lying atop one of the unyielding metal slates that served as beds aboard the Gal’tagh, reviewing the memories of when he’d heard the name before.

  “I met a Klingon named Kahless, almost twenty years ago.” The statement drew a derisive snort from Koloth.

  “Impossible. Kahless has been dead for centuries, and no other Klingon has ever borne the name.”

  Kirk frowned, remembering once more the odd circumstances that had brought him into contact with the Klingon warrior, along with other noted and notorious historical figures including the revered Surak of Vulcan and one of his own childhood heroes, Abraham Lincoln. Kirk still remembered the disbelief that he and the rest of the crew had shared when they had first seen Lincoln, floating in space without benefit of spacecraft or environmental suit.

  “It wasn’t real,” Kirk said. “Rather, it was a physical manifestation of him created by a race of aliens who wanted to ‘study’ us. They were interested in how we dealt with the concepts of ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Kahless was created to represent evil, along with a few unsavory representatives from Earth history. Once they had all the players, we were pitted against one another to see who would win.”

  Koloth’s laugh echoed off the walls of the exercise room. “It sounds as though your testers were a remarkably shortsighted species. Good does not always triumph over evil, my dear Captain, and in fact, the very notion of such clear-cut distinctions is a fallacy. Many of those considered to be evil are not incapable of mercy, while many of those who profess to be pure can commit the most heinous of acts and justify them in the name of what is ‘good.’ However, I am sure none of this is new to you.”

  Nodding, Kirk soberly agreed. His travels had introduced him to the best and worst that living beings had to offer, whether they had been born in far-off star systems or on his home planet.

  “This aberration of Kahless you met all those years ago,” Koloth said. “How was it created?”

  Kirk remembered what Yarnek, the leader of the mysterious race who called themselves the Excalbians, had told him. “The representations of Kahless and the others were drawn from images in our minds. That made sense for Lincoln, Surak, and the others, as we had either read about them or seen pictures. But I’d only read stories of Kahless before that incident.”

  Taking another look at the statue, Kirk almost unconsciously registered the fact that both Klingons depicted in the sculpture bore pronounced forehead ridges, much as Koloth did now. That in itself was not an anomaly, for it was well known that at least two different species of Klingon had been encountered since Earth’s initial contact with the warrior race during the previous century.

  “More than likely,” he continued, “his image was created based on my own experiences and memories of Klingons.” He smiled at Koloth. “Needless to say, we know more now than we did then.”

  “Not that it’s a whole lot,” Sulu added.

  Koloth regarded the helmsman, nodding. “That theory makes sense. The true Kahless would never have aligned himself with those motivated merely by personal gain. Such actions are the very height of dishonor. As for not knowing us, the same could be said for our knowledge of the Federation. Perhaps the peace talks between our peoples will alleviate that.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the opening of the exercise room doors for a second time as two Klingons entered. The hands of one Klingon were secured with manacles. As he rose to his feet, Kirk recognized the other Klingon as Toreth, the Gal’tagh ’s security officer. He marched his restrained charge up to Koloth and saluted.

  “My lord, I believe this petaQ to be a spy.”

  Koloth looked the prisoner up and down. “J’rgan? What has he done to warrant such an accusation?”

  Toreth replied, “He transported down to Don’zali IV without authorization. The security logs had been tampered with to conceal evidence of this, but I was able to reconstruct the entries. I also uncovered evidence of at least two transmissions encoded within our normal communications traffic. The messages contain information about a Klingon named K’zeq, whom you apparently met on the planet, as well as details of our current course heading to Pao’la.”

  “So whoever received the transmissions knows everything about our mission,” Sulu said.

  The menace that appeared in Koloth’s eyes was almost matched by the calm, controlled detachment in the eyes of the prisoner. He closed the distance between them until he stood nearly nose to nose with the manacled Klingon.

  “J’rgan,” he hissed. “You have sacrificed your honor to spy on your fellow shipmates, to say nothing of your treachery to me. Who commands your loyalty?”

  J’rgan’s relaxed expression broke and the Klingon smiled. “My loyalty is to the Empire, not usurpers seeking to undermine it from within. Whatever it is you seek on Pao’la, there are t
hose who feel it is dangerous to allow you to succeed.”

  “You mean you don’t know what this is all about?” Kirk asked, incredulous.

  Regarding Kirk and Sulu with undisguised contempt, J’rgan replied, “I performed my duty. You may have discovered me, but my assignment here is complete. My masters already have the information I was tasked to obtain. What they do with it is their concern, not mine.”

  Koloth lashed out, his open hand striking J’rgan across the face with such force that the other Klingon staggered backward from the force of the blow. “Do not speak in riddles. No doubt it is Komor who sent you to spy on me. That cowardly parasite has no concept of honor, and I intend to see the day that he is removed from the Council and cast into Gre’thor where he will rot for all eternity.”

  Abruptly, he looked to Toreth. “Release him.”

  “Koloth, what are you doing?” Kirk asked. He watched as Koloth motioned for Sulu to hand him the bat’leth that the helmsman still carried. Toreth unlocked J’rgan’s hands from the manacles and Koloth tossed the weapon to the prisoner.

  “Granting one opportunity for him to restore some small portion of his honor.” Glaring at J’rgan, he added, “That is, if you have the courage to try. Komor cannot protect you here. You must rely on your own warrior spirit, if indeed you possess such a thing.”

  J’rgan regarded the gleaming blade in his hands, saying nothing.

  “Koloth,” Kirk began, but was cut off by the Klingon commander.

  “This is not something I would expect you to understand, Kirk, nor is it something you need to witness.” Nodding to Toreth he said, “Escort them back to their quarters.” As Kirk started to step forward, Koloth stopped him with a look and a raised hand. “Do not attempt to interfere in matters of Klingon honor, Kirk. Go. Now.”

  Kirk caught movement to his left and turned to see J’rgan raising his bat’leth in preparation to attack. Letting loose a fierce war cry, the Klingon charged forward, the bat’leth flashing in the light.