Star Trek #97: In the Name of Honor

by Dayton Ward

  Seeing the look of utter incredulity on Joquel’s face and before the ambassador could respond, Spock cut in. “Lieutenant, given the sensitivity of the current proceedings, that may not be the most prudent course of action. Instead, I believe that you and Commander Chekov should begin an investigation. As you are both seasoned security professionals, we can expect you to address the issue with the required level of urgency and delicacy.”

  “Delicacy is a concern for humans,” Kaljagh said. “But you are correct.” The anger on the Klingon’s face softened somewhat. “Captain, you speak with the ease of a diplomat. You should quit wasting your time in Starfleet and enter politics. It’s certainly a different type of battle than you may be accustomed to, though. Your enemies aren’t always visible, but it makes the challenge that much greater.”

  Spock nodded in acknowledgment of what was, in Klingon parlance at least, intended to be a compliment. Of course, the enemy he faced now was anything but visible. The quarry he sought had no name, no description, and no identity. He, or she, could be anywhere or nowhere. They could be cloaked in shadow, or the next person he talked to.

  Perhaps politics would not be so different after all.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  HANGING LOW on the horizon, the sun cast its last feeble rays through the thick jungle canopy as yet another Pao’lan day readied itself to surrender to the coming darkness. In less than an hour, the stars would be clearly visible in the moonless sky. But it will still be hotter than hell, Kirk thought.

  He and Koloth lay concealed in heavy undergrowth, their elevated position on a hillside giving them an almost unobstructed view of the prison’s massive, U -shaped stone wall and the cluster of buildings within it. Inside the wall, Kirk could see the open courtyard but with the exception of the odd Klingon soldier or what looked to him to be a prisoner, the compound appeared to be deserted.

  “The prisoners are probably away on work details,” Koloth said, “and will no doubt return before nightfall.” He indicated the large opening in the base of the mountain that formed the rear wall of the prison. “According to K’zeq, that is the main entrance to the network of mining tunnels.”

  As he peered through his viewfinder, perspiration stung Kirk’s eyes, again, and he lowered the device in order to wipe his face. Even without him exerting any real effort, the heat and humidity were sapping his energy. Along with Sulu, he was drinking water by the liter to keep his body hydrated, and both humans were taking vitamin supplements to battle the effects of the stifling heat. It was only a temporary solution, however. The only truly effective remedy for the planet’s harsh environment would be to remain on the surface long enough for their bodies to acclimate.

  And that was not high on Kirk’s list of priorities.

  Noticing Kirk’s discomfort, Koloth chuckled. “This heat tests even a warrior’s mettle, Kirk. You should feel no shame in withering under its influence.”

  Kirk sensed the sarcasm in the Klingon’s tone and smiled back good-naturedly. “I’m just glad I opted to ditch the Klingon disguise. I can’t imagine what it would be like with all that makeup on.” He’d gotten a taste of that discomfort earlier in the day, when he realized that the artificial skin pigmentation he and Sulu wore retained their body heat. That was enough to convince both men to remove their disguises.

  “You should have kept the beard,” Koloth noted as he returned his attention to his own viewfinder. “To Klingons, a beard represents courage, which I know you have in no small quantity.” He laughed again as he added, “ Besides, somehow it made you look more intelligent.” Kirk shared the laugh before returning to his own study of the prison compound.

  Getting to Pao’la had been easier than he had expected. Other than the prison that was the sole concentration of higher life forms in this entire hemisphere, there was only one other appreciable population center, a spaceport city on the other side of the planet. The idea of beaming anyone up from the prison itself had been thwarted once the cloaked Gal’tagh had settled into orbit and conducted a sensor sweep.

  Just as K’zeq had indicated to them on Don’zali IV, an energy shield surrounded the prison and inhibited the use of transporters. It also prevented the detection of life forms within its perimeter by passive sensor scans. Koloth had decided that attempting a more invasive sweep would risk attracting attention, possibly from the prison itself but most definitely from the spaceport authorities who maintained tracking stations both in orbit and on the surface. Otherwise, defeating the civiliangrade planetary sensors had been an easy task for both the Gal’tagh and the shuttle that Kirk, Sulu, and Koloth had used to make planetfall.

  Operating the shuttle under the shroud of its own cloaking device, Sulu and Koloth had piloted the smaller vessel to the surface and found a suitable landing site far enough from the prison to avoid having anyone hear them land. That had been the easy part. The more difficult task had been the long hike on foot four kilometers from the shuttle to a place where they could observe the prison without being spotted themselves.

  That had been eight hours ago. After spending so long lying on the unforgiving ground, Kirk was beginning to grow impatient.

  “Look,” Koloth said, pointing with one hand in the direction of the prison. “Someone’s coming out of the mountain.”

  Through his viewfinder, Kirk could see the first figures emerging from the mouth of the tunnel drilled into the base of the unnamed mountain. In short order, two columns of prisoners, all dressed alike in drab gray utility uniforms, moved slowly but steadily into the courtyard. He also saw dozens of Klingons marching alongside the group, some carrying what looked to be batons of some sort that Kirk guessed were used to discipline the prisoners.

  The prisoners represented a myriad number of races, mostly from planets not aligned with the Federation. Regardless of species, and apparently gender, no prisoner sported any hair on their head or face. With the dirt and grime covering their bodies and clothing, few of the prisoners were readily distinguishable from each other. Though the vast majority of prisoners appeared to be from humanoid races, there was no way to be more precise without the sensors aboard the shuttle.

  Still, he couldn’t help the sense of relief that washed over him as he watched the columns of bedraggled workers exit the tunnel. Somewhere down there, he was sure of it, members of the Gagarin crew were waiting to be rescued.

  The reports K’zeq had kept said that eight members of the ill-fated ship’s complement had been interred at the prison, but that at least two had died within the first year. One had fallen victim to disease, while the Gagarin ’s captain, the only member of the crew to be specifically named in any of the reports, had been executed. That left six potential survivors, which the shuttle could carry easily. How many of them were still alive, if any? Kirk was convinced that at least some of them had to have survived. Anything else would mean that this mission was a failure, and Kirk would not accept that.

  “They look haggard,” he said as he peered at the lines of shuffling prisoners through his viewfinder. “Looks like they get worked pretty hard.”

  Koloth was studying the slow-moving columns as well, silent for a few moments. Then, “They look better than I expected. This group eats better than at most prisons I’ve seen.”

  “They can’t produce dilithium from the mines if they’re dropping dead from malnutrition and disease,” Kirk replied.

  Koloth didn’t comment, instead focusing his attention on the layout of the courtyard. “In order to get at the prisoners, we have to defeat the shield. I doubt we can disable it completely, since it seems the power source is protected inside the prison itself. We have to find a way to penetrate it at a specific point.”

  Kirk studied the stone wall and the buildings. “ Whatever we do, it will have to be fast.” They couldn’t give the guards any chance to kill the prisoners, get them under cover, or repair whatever damage inflicted on the shield. Kirk was sure there had to be a backup system to take care of any failure in the ene
rgy grid. “Our only chance will be to hit them hard and keep them off balance.”

  “That means a diversionary action,” Koloth replied.

  Shifting his position, Kirk watched as the prisoners were marched toward a large, squat building on the left side of the compound. He guessed it was a facility that allowed the inmates to clean the day’s grime from their bodies, receive their evening meal, or both. As he followed the proceedings, his eyes fell on one of the Klingon guards, who resembled Kirk and Sulu in their disguises more than he did Koloth. In fact, Kirk mused, between here and Don’zali IV he had seen more Klingons of this type in a few days’ time than he had in the last fifteen years.

  “Koloth,” he said, “the Klingons down there, and the ones we ran into on Don’zali, are they another race that joined the Empire at some point?”

  “If it satisfies you to think so, then so be it,” Koloth replied sharply. Nothing else followed the simple statement.

  Kirk regarded his companion for several seconds, comparing the visage before him with the young Koloth he had first encountered all those years ago.

  “That’s not an answer,” he said. “You have to admit, it’s an intriguing mystery. There are a lot of theories floating around out . . .”

  “You will not receive any other answer from me,” Koloth snapped. “It is not something discussed with those who are not of the Empire.” He glared at Kirk as he spoke, and for a brief moment the Enterprise captain thought the Klingon might lash out at him.

  Instead, Koloth returned his attention to the prison below them, studying the encampment with his own eyes rather than with the viewfinder. Just as the silence between the two men was beginning to grow awkward, he spoke again.

  “I apologize, Kirk.”

  Kirk blinked in surprise. Looking at the expression on the Klingon’s face, he could tell the apology was reluctant, as if Koloth was forcing himself to remain civil.

  “I would not normally go to the effort to say that,” he added, “especially to a human. But you have proven yourself worthy of my respect. I do understand the curiosity, but it is not something most Klingons are willing to discuss. Perhaps one day you will be permitted to understand.”

  Koloth began packing away his equipment in preparation for the hike through the jungle to where they had established their temporary camp. Kirk did the same, but looked up from his rucksack after a few moments.

  “What would Kahless think of your answer?”

  The Klingon skewered Kirk with another anger-filled stare. As quickly as it had appeared though, it faded and was replaced with an amused expression.

  “I respect you, Kirk, but only to a point. However, to answer your question, I’ve often asked myself what Kahless would say about many of the things I have said and done over the course of my life.” As he continued to secure his equipment, he added, “It may interest you to know that I did not always embrace the teachings of Kahless as I do now. There was a time when such beliefs were largely unpopular. You might say that the Empire went through a time of social and political upheaval. Everything held in high regard until that time was questioned if not dismissed as being old, obsolete. That was the age I was born into.”

  The two finished packing and started off through the jungle, moving side by side. The walk was not difficult as the undergrowth on the side of the hill wasn’t as thick as areas they had traversed to get here from the shuttle.

  “So what happened?” Kirk asked.

  “My father,” Koloth said. “I have never known a finer warrior. He feared nothing.” Looking to Kirk out of the corner of his eye, he smiled and added, “Except my mother, of course.”

  Kirk laughed at the joke. “What about your father?”

  “He taught me about Kahless, about honor and courage, how not to bow to the popular thought of others who were more focused on selfish destructive behavior that tore at the fabric of everything the Empire had been built on. Until the day he died, my father never renounced his beliefs.”

  “What about you?” Kirk asked. “You said you didn’t always follow Kahless’ teachings.”

  Nodding, Koloth continued, “As I grew out of childhood, I of course adopted that air of omniscience that graces all children as they enter adolescence and young adulthood. I had no need for the teachings of an old man. Surely you can relate to this.”

  “Definitely,” Kirk replied, smiling now. “I was more than a little headstrong in my youth.” He recalled the many rough periods that had colored his relationship with his father during his teenage years. It had taken him several years before he understood just how wise his father had truly been.

  Koloth reached out to move aside a drooping tree branch blocking his path. “Exactly, and so it was with me as well. When I grew old enough, I discovered that I was dissatisfied with the society around me. I sought challenge, adventure, glory, and the only place to find that was in the military. When I joined, I met other Klingons who felt as I did, and learned that many of them burned with a fire fueled by the same sense of honor and morality that I had witnessed in my father. I began to realize how he had influenced me in so many ways. It was the one gift that I have learned to treasure, and since that awakening I have spent my life living up to his example and to that of Kahless and his timeless concepts of honor above all.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Kirk said. It had taken his own entrance into Starfleet Academy before he had realized just how much effort his parents had put into raising him. While his father had taught him to go into life with his eyes open, his mother had been determined to make sure that approach was tempered with an equally open mind.

  The ground had begun to level off, and Kirk thought he spied the telltale glow of a fire ahead of them where their camp should be. Surrounded by the trees and underbrush of the Pao’lan jungle, the likelihood of their fire being seen from the prison was almost nil.

  “That’s not to say there weren’t obstacles, of course,” Koloth said. “The Empire stands on the foundation created by the principles Kahless teaches us, and without those same principles to support it, the Empire will eventually crumble. Yet even today, many Klingons refuse to embrace all that Kahless has given us. Worse, there are those who merely pretend to honor him, living in deceit in order to curry favor with those in power. In the case of certain members on the High Council, they lie in order to maintain the approval of the people, more and more of whom adopt the ways of Kahless with each passing year.” He snorted derisively. “The Empire is undergoing a transformation that may in fact take years if not decades to realize, but it still disgusts me to think that Klingons are capable of such abhorrent behavior.”

  The fire at the center of the small camp burned brightly as Kirk and Koloth broke into the tiny clearing. It wasn’t much to look at, merely three small shelters situated around the earthen pit that Kirk had dug out with his phaser. A trio of folding stools completed the setup.

  Kirk looked around but could find no sign of Sulu, who had set out earlier to patrol the surrounding area with a tricorder to insure that they were alone out here. The Enterprise captain was tempted to contact him via his communicator, but thought better of it. From what Koloth had told him, the risk of anyone monitoring for unscheduled comm traffic was small, but there was no sense in taking any chances.

  As Kirk sat down on one of the campstools, he thought about what his companion had told him. The picture of the Empire that Koloth had painted didn’t match the one Kirk had carried in his head for nearly his entire life. According to accounts he’d read, Klingons encountered by Starfleet captains like April, Garth, and others were described as devious and deceitful, an enemy not to be trusted. Of course, some of those observations had conflicted with earlier reports logged by such legendary captains as Archer and Taggart. It was only later, when he himself had faced off with the likes of Kor, Kang, Korrd, and yes, even Koloth, that Kirk had considered Klingons capable of displaying such admirable qualities.

  “It’s amazing,” he said aloud as Koloth emerge
d from his shelter with a small pot and a ration pack they had brought from their shuttle. “I never thought of Klingons as capable of being so divided on an issue like what you describe.”

  Pausing in his efforts to prepare the ration pack’s contents for cooking, Koloth leveled severe, glaring eyes on Kirk. “Why does that surprise you so? Do humans always agree on everything?”

  Before Kirk could respond, Koloth pressed on. “Do you consider the Empire to be no more than a military state, desiring nothing but war and conquest? Our military may hold a higher point of distinction in our society than Starfleet does within the Federation, but it is not all that we are, Kirk. We have a culture as rich and diverse as yours. We have art and music, we laugh and we love, we live, grow old, and die. Those who embrace Kahless’ teachings bring an enrichment to the Empire and remind us to honor all that we are and all that we have.”

  The rebuke stung Kirk like a physical blow. Balancing what he had always believed to be true about Klingons, what he had seen with his own eyes, and the words Koloth had spoken, he realized that his companion was right. He had always viewed the Klingons, these enemies of the Federation, as nothing more than a threat to be confronted. Of course they had to be so much more, and why hadn’t he allowed himself to think of them in that way? After all these years spent exploring new planets, contacting new races, and expanding the base of knowledge, was he still so narrow-minded as to reduce his perception of a species to nothing more than a handful of demeaning adjectives?

  As the heat and humidity continued to wrap themselves around him throughout the night like a heavy blanket, the questions running through Kirk’s mind burned with an even greater intensity.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  IF PAVEL CHEKOV had to describe Lorta in a single word, that word would be methodical. Just like him, the Terthos ’s Klingon security chief had been diligent and untiring in her inspection of the conference hall. For Chekov, it was a side of Klingons that he had rarely seen. The formidable warriors he had encountered during his years in Starfleet had never struck him as the type to waste time on details, the finer points that more often than not brought clarity to a situation. Instead, these people had always seemed focused on the battle, winning through brutal force at any cost.