Me-Larr did not sound convinced. “And if we are wiped out?”
“Then you will be at the forefront of those who run with the dead.”
Klag assumed that this was a good thing. It didn’t cheer Me-Larr as much as Klag thought it should, however, so the captain added, “Te-Run is wise, Me-Larr. I have learned in my time as captain of the Gorkon that it is better to listen to wise counsel than to ignore it.”
“You are both, of course, correct.” He bared his teeth. “It will be our most magnificent fight.”
Smiling, Klag activated his communicator. “Klag to Gorkon.”
His first officer replied, “Kornan.”
“Have QaS DevwI’ Vok, Klaris, and B’Yrak transport down with their troops for training with the Children of San-Tarah.”
“Yes, sir.”
That would put the two hundred and twenty-five best ground troops from the Gorkon on the surface. They would begin the work of training with the San-Tarah for the next five days until Talak’s arrival. By the time the fleet did show up, Klag intended to have a thousand troops aiding the Children of San-Tarah. You may win the day, General, but your victory will be the hardest-won of your misbegotten life.
“Bridge to Captain Triak.”
Triak, son of H’Ren, captain of the I.K.S. Kreltek, looked up at the sound of his first officer’s voice. Commander Vekma had been given strict orders not to disturb him. Does that fool woman think that because we share a bed she may disregard my instructions?
Before he could rebuke his second-in-command she added, “I would not disturb you normally, Captain, but Lieutenant Hevna says she must see you immediately. That it is business of the highest order.”
“What kind of business?”
“She won’t say,” Vekma said, her voice dripping with anger. Triak smiled. Vekma did not like being uninformed. He suspected that her desire for him was as much due to the greater access she had to Triak and his thoughts as his bedmate than she would as simply his first officer. Since she was so adept at both, Triak did not mind. “She will only say that it is urgent.”
Normally, Triak would tell Vekma that the first-shift pilot could either explain herself or not get her audience—and perhaps get rotated off the bridge—but Hevna was not given to this sort of thing, normally. She was one of his finest officers, and the best pilot he had ever served with; she performed Kalmat’s Maneuver in battle against the Jem’Hadar during the war, which wasn’t supposed to be possible with a ship as large as the Kreltek. She had even been inducted into the Order of the Bat’leth two months ago on Ty’Gokor.
“Very well. Send her in.”
“As you wish.” Vekma didn’t sound happy. Triak suspected that she wanted the captain to refuse the request. I may well pay for my accession tonight, he thought with regret.
A moment later, the door to his tiny office rumbled open, and Lieutenant Hevna entered. Hevna was appallingly young—or perhaps I’m simply getting old, Triak thought with a bit of melancholy—with hardly any muscle on her whatsoever. Had he not known of her piloting prowess, he would not have thought to look at her that she was Defense Force material. But warriors fought their battles in their own ways with the weapons best suited to them, and Hevna’s were the helm controls of spacefaring vessels.
“Speak, Lieutenant. And make it quick. I do not appreciate being disturbed.”
“I know, sir, and I would not have done so were the reason not so important.” She took a breath. “Captain, I must respectfully request that you divert the Kreltek to the Kavrot Sector for urgent business of the Order of the Bat’leth.”
Triak stared incredulously at Hevna for a moment, then threw his head back and threw a hearty laugh at the ceiling. “Vekma put you up to this, did she not? I did not credit her with this vicious a sense of humor. Thank you, Lieutenant, you may—”
“Sir, this is not a joke. I have received a summons from a fellow member of the Order.”
“And this is supposed to matter why, exactly?”
Hevna blinked. “Did Commander Vekma not tell you?”
“Tell me what?” This was rapidly turning less amusing and more irritating. If Hevna was not more forthcoming, she was going to taste his d’k tahg.
“Chancellor Martok has summoned the Order back to its original purpose.”
“What original purpose?” Then a memory of the night after Hevna’s induction came back to him, from his and Vekma’s postcoital conversation, where she told him about the all-night celebrating followed by the induction ceremony. Triak had only been paying partial attention, as he had remained on the Kreltek for the whole thing—Vekma had always wanted to attend an Order induction, and Triak thought it would be imprudent for both captain and first officer to be off-ship for so long—and so had been denied Vekma’s company the previous night. He was mostly eager to make up for lost time, so he had forgotten. “Wait, something about spreading the word of Kahless—?”
Hevna breathlessly explained to Triak what Martok had said regarding the Order. So old Chancellor One-Eye wants to drag that foolishness from the past back to the present? This is what happens when commoners are given power. He remembered now that he had laughed at Vekma when she had told him of it two months ago, and dismissed it as romantic foolishness.
“And now one of the inductees has decided to use this as an excuse to summon the Order?” he asked.
“Yes. Captain Klag has—”
“Klag?” Triak knew of Klag: the son of M’Raq, who, like some kind of human, used his father’s right arm to replace the one he lost during the war. If they were letting animals like Klag into the Order, then its future as a means of maintaining honor in the Empire was a bleak one indeed.
“Yes, sir. Captain Klag has given his word to—”
Triak held up a hand. “Enough. This conversation has gone on far longer than I should have allowed it. The Kreltek is assigned to patrol the outer colonies. Unless I receive orders from Command that say otherwise, I will not divert from that assignment.”
“Sir, you have discretion to—”
Angrily, Triak stood up, unsheathing his d’k tahg. “I do have discretion, yes, Lieutenant, but I certainly will not use it to chase honorless jatyIn conjured by a fool such as Klag! If you say one more word on this subject, you will be rotated off the bridge—assuming I do not decide to kill you.” He held up his dagger, the outer blades clicking into their open position. “You have only lived this far into this discussion because of your accomplishments as a pilot. Am I understood, Lieutenant?”
Hevna stood at attention. “Yes, sir!”
“Good. Get out of my sight.”
Without another word, Hevna turned on her heel and left the office.
Triak resheathed his weapon and sat back down. Order of the Bat’leth, he thought, shaking his head, what a sad, pathetic joke.
Chapter Two
Upon his return to the Gorkon, Klag’s first stop was the bridge. The Chancellor-class ship had a good-sized command center, with the captain’s chair, of course, as its frontispiece. All Klingon vessels were designed with the bridge at the fore of the ship and the command chair at the fore of the bridge. After all, if captains did not literally lead warriors into battle, then they were not worthy of the honor of their position. It was also a symbol of trust: captains must be willing to leave their backs exposed to the crew.
To the captain’s immediate right was the first officer’s position, with the pilot to the left. Operations and weapons were right behind him, with secondary systems at various consoles aft.
Upon his entry, Klag went to the operations console. He was joined by Commander Kornan, who got up from the first officer’s position, and Lieutenant Toq, who had been laboring over that console when Klag entered.
“Captain,” Kornan said, “Lieutenant Toq has good news.”
“Such news would be welcome. Speak, Lieutenant.”
The young lieutenant spoke with his usual youthful enthusiasm. “I believe I have found a way to f
ire torpedoes.”
Klag’s face broke into a grin. “That is good news.” The subspace eddies had disrupted all weapons functions aboard the Gorkon, reducing the mighty vessel to a glorified troop transport, which did not sit well with its captain.
Toq returned a smile of his own. The eager young man had proven himself to be a fine officer in his months of service aboard the Gorkon, from his quick and brilliant technical solutions to his prowess in the hunt, which won the Gorkon their first contest against the Children of San-Tarah. “It will require attaching small shield generators to all of the torpedo casings, but I have found a shield modulation that will keep the photon torpedoes from becoming inert from the subspace interference.”
“What of the quantum torpedoes?”
That eliminated Toq’s smile. “The shields do not protect those torpedoes from the interference—they are still inert.”
“And disruptors?”
“Still nonfunctional. I am, however, continuing to seek a solution.”
Klag put an encouraging hand on the young lieutenant’s shoulder. “Good. What of the subspace eddies?”
“Leskit and I are in the process of mapping them. I have also informed Commander Kurak that we may lose several key systems at inopportune moments if we slip into the eddies—but it will be as nothing compared with the fleet’s difficulties. We will have had five days to verify these readings as well.”
“Good.” Klag turned to Kornan. “Run three simulations per day until the fleet engages us, with both pilots.”
“Yes, sir,” the commander replied.
“Leskit,” Klag said to the old pilot, “I want you and Ensign Koxx to both be fully prepared for any maneuver you may have to make that will keep my ship intact, is that understood?”
“Completely, Captain.” Leskit nodded his affirmation with sufficient enthusiasm to make his necklace of Cardassian neckbones rattle.
“Good.” He looked around the bridge. “Continue your work. I want as many weapons as possible to function by the time the fleet arrives.”
“We will, sir.” Kornan spoke the words with confidence.
Klag regarded his first officer with something approaching respect. Kornan had spent his ten weeks as the Gorkon’s second-in-command filling the role, but doing little else. Klag had gone from Drex, the son of Martok and an incompetent fool who let his father’s honor speak for him far too often, to Tereth, one of the best officers he’d ever served with, to Kornan during his time captaining this vessel, and this last man was the biggest enigma. Competent, certainly, but he never took initiative, never did more than was absolutely necessary to function. Unlike, say, Kurak—the chief engineer who had no desire to excel—Kornan did not choose to be this way, it simply seemed all he was capable of.
However, since Klag had shown him General Talak’s message, it was as if someone had lit a fire under the commander. Let us hope it lasts.
“I will be in the medical bay.”
Klag departed the bridge through the rear exit, his substitute bodyguard falling into step behind him. The captain wanted his best soldiers on the surface, so his usual bodyguard—Morr, the Leader of First Squad—was on the planet. Part of him wasn’t concerned. He doubted that any of the senior officers had designs on his position. On the other hand, he was ordering them to go into battle against their fellow Klingons. This was not a situation to be taken lightly, and not one that all Klingons would approve of. He made a mental note to speak to Lieutenant Lokor, the chief of ship’s security, about possibly doubling his guard.
He arrived at the medical bay to see only two occupants: Dr. B’Oraq and Lieutenant Rodek. All the others who had been injured during the contests with the Children of San-Tarah had apparently been discharged. Good, Klag thought. It is not fit for warriors to lie in bed waiting for their bones to mend.
Rodek, however, had sustained great injuries during the marine combat and was still unconscious.
Or, rather, he had been, Klag amended as he saw that Rodek’s eyes were finally open.
“Captain,” B’Oraq said. “I was just going to contact you. As you can see, I have good news.” The doctor moved as if to tug on the auburn braid that hung over her right shoulder, secured by a pin in the shape of the emblem of her House, but she stopped short of doing so. Klag smiled.
“It is good that you are conscious, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, sir,” the gunner said, sounding remarkably sharp-witted for someone who had just awakened from a several-day coma.
Turning to the doctor, Klag asked, “How soon can he be returned to duty?” The Gorkon’s other primary gunner, Morketh, was killed in the same engagement that injured Rodek. Although their substitutes were adequate in general, Klag preferred to have a more experienced hand on deck for the coming battle.
“I am ready to return now, sir,” Rodek said before B’Oraq could speak.
“No, you really aren’t,” B’Oraq said quickly, and turned to the captain. “Sir, I don’t even think he should be getting out of the biobed for another day. Half his chest was blown apart, and the head injury was quite severe.”
Rodek sat up. Klag noted that there was a bandage on the right side of his head. “I am ready to return to duty, sir. I would ask that I be allowed to take my station.”
“I won’t authorize that,” B’Oraq started, but the gunner interrupted her.
“This is not a human ship, Doctor—you have no authority to—”
“But I do, Rodek,” Klag said firmly. “And if B’Oraq will not authorize your return to duty, then I will not override her.”
“Sir, I have come up with a possible way to do battle within the field of subspace eddies. I wish to test the theory. I realize that Morketh or one of the other gunners may do so, but I wish—”
“Morketh is dead, Lieutenant,” Klag said. “And we are about to do battle in the field.” Quickly, Klag filled the gunner in on the current situation.
“In that case, Captain, I must return to duty.”
“If you return to duty, Lieutenant,” B’Oraq said tightly, “you’ll probably be dead in minutes. Certainly if you go into any kind of combat situation—”
“I am not some mewling child to be coddled back to health, woman!” Rodek barked.
That took B’Oraq aback. In truth, it did the same for Klag. Though Rodek was a fine warrior, he had always come across as passionless. This was the most animated Klag had ever seen him.
B’Oraq’s surprise, however, was fleeting. “No, but you are only alive because of me, Lieutenant.”
“You are the ship’s doctor,” Rodek said dismissively. “It is your duty to—”
Shaking her head, B’Oraq said, “You misunderstand—you are alive because of me. The Gorkon medical bay was designed to my specifications, and incorporates improvements and upgrades to the standard medical bay that I insisted upon. If it weren’t for those upgrades, you would be with Morketh in Sto-Vo-Kor right now. You had a subdural hematoma and dozens of chest wounds. Believe me when I tell you that I know precisely how close you were to death, and how difficult your journey back will be. You are not fit for duty, and if you attempt to report for duty, I will not accept any responsibility for your health whatsoever.” This last she said with a significant look at Klag.
The silence hung in the medical bay for only a moment. Then Klag spoke. “What is this plan you have, Lieutenant?”
With a glower at the doctor, Rodek lay back down. “It was something we did on the Hegh’ta. I thought of it while we were on that wind boat on the planet, but I did not have a chance to report my idea. We mine the eddies with modified torpedoes. If we add shield generators to the torpedoes, the interference won’t neutralize them.”
Klag threw his head back and laughed. “Toq is ahead of you, Rodek. He has already succeeded in modifiying the photon torpedoes so that we can fire them. For that reason, your plan is unworkable. We will require the photons for actual combat.”
Rodek said nothing.
�
��Will your plan work with probes?” Klag asked after a moment’s thought.
Blinking, Rodek turned his head to look up at the captain. “I believe so, yes.”
“Good. True, we’re supposed to use the probes for our exploratory mission, but those endeavors have been cut short.” He turned to B’Oraq. “Doctor, Rodek will go on restricted duty. He will not take the gunner’s position, but he will be available to supervise the implementation and testing of his plan. If we can mine the subspace eddies, it will give us a huge advantage.”
Bracing himself for an argument, Klag was pleasantly surprised to hear B’Oraq say, “Very well.” The doctor was as stubborn and argumentative as her captain, but annoyingly she was right all the time. That was why he had supported her refusal to let Rodek return to active duty—but his plan would be of far too much use to let him fester here.
“Report to Kornan on the bridge.”
“Yes, sir.” Gingerly, Rodek rose from the biobed, and then—without aid, which he did not ask for, nor did Klag or B’Oraq offer it—he exited the medical bay, walking slowly, but with a confidence that Klag had never seen there.
“It would seem that Rodek’s injury may have done him more good than harm in the long run.” When B’Oraq did not respond, Klag turned to her. The doctor seemed lost in thought. “B’Oraq?”
“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry, Captain, I was just thinking. Something about what Rodek said is bothering me.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure.” She tugged on her braid, then self-consciously put her hand down. Klag had pointed out that nervous habit of hers, and ever since then, she’d been overconscious of it. “Was there something else you wanted to see me about?”
“Yes. You were giving rudimentary first aid to the San-Tarah before the contest ended. You will beam down immediately and begin those endeavors again. We need to give them every possible advantage.”
Honor Bound Page 3