At that, Dorrek smiled. “If there is, we have not yet encountered it.”
“Exactly. I am sure that, if one of us did try to hunt the klongat on our own, that one would die. But we are together—we are strong.”
“But Klag—”
Seeing that this brother was vacillating, Klag took the road that always worked, for as a boy, at least, Dorrek knew the meaning of honor. “I am the older brother, Dorrek. When Father is away, I lead our House. We will hunt this beast.” Then he laughed again—a shadow of the heavy-throated laugh he would develop in his later years—and slammed Dorrek on the back. “Do not worry, brother—we shall subdue the creature with little difficulty.”
Klag’s hypothesis proved accurate to a point, if one considered “little difficulty” to include dozens of broken bones each, head trauma, the tip of one of Dorrek’s fingers sliced off, and half of Klag’s hair ripped out.
But the klongat fell.
Now, decades later, the rift caused by their father’s refusal to reclaim his honor after his escape from the Romulans made such memories bittersweet. My brother and I will never hunt again, unless it is to seek out the other and kill him. Where Klag felt only contempt for Talak and his House, he felt pity for his brother. He once knew the path of honor.
He activated the viewscreen on his desk, and Dorrek’s face—long where Klag’s was angular, beady-eyed where Klag’s eyes were wide and open—appeared. “Klag, this is foolish. Tell your fleet to stand down and let General Talak do his duty.”
Klag blinked. “What?”
“We know you called in the Order of the Bat’leth, Klag. Your surprise won’t work. I assume you’ve got them hiding in that mess of subspace tears out there to ambush us.”
Klag said nothing, though he was disappointed. It had been a calculated risk. Such a wide-ranging call as mine meant there was a good chance that word of it would reach Talak’s ears before their arrival. “If you truly think me so cowardly as to surrender now—”
“Cowardly?” Dorrek laughed. “No, brother, there are many words I would use to describe you, none of them favorable, but ‘coward’ is not among them. I am quite sure that you will go bravely to a fool’s death. And believe me, you will die a fool. The Order’s era is in the past, Klag. We are no longer feudal lords fighting over mountains with primitive bat’leth s. We are soldiers of a great Empire, a sophisticated people who are beyond such outdated concerns.”
At that moment, Klag ceased pitying his brother.
“Is honor outdated? We fought the Dominion—I lost my arm—to preserve our way of life. I will not see it thrown away by shortsighted fools such as you and Talak.”
“Our way of life?” The reasonable tone Dorrek had been using, no doubt in a misguided attempt to appeal to Klag’s better nature, was gone, replaced with the anger Klag had seen on Ty’Gokor weeks ago. “What do you know of a Klingon way of life, Klag? You, who mount our father’s arm to your shoulder like some kind of sick trophy?”
“Do not try to claim some kind of moral high ground with me, Dorrek—for if your heart was truly Klingon, you would obey the order I am about to give.”
“You order me?” Dorrek laughed at that, a bitter, angry sound. “By what right?”
“As your older brother. Whether you like it or not, I am head of our House, and that gives me every right to instruct you. Now, in the name of the House of M’Raq, I order you to join us. Face the general down. Remember that a Klingon’s word is his bond, and without it, we are nothing.”
“My duty, brother, is to obey the orders of my superiors. That is something you will never be.” Dorrek shook his head, and seemed to look away. “I had hoped to end this without having to kill my own brother, but you will not spare our House even this indignity. You will not deviate from this path of dishonor that will lead us both to the Barge of the Dead for eternity.” He looked back at Klag. “I will see you in Gre’thor, Klag.”
He cut the transmission off.
Klag sat and stared at the bulkheads—for how long, he knew not.
“Bridge to Klag.”
Several seconds passed before Klag finally acknowledged Kornan’s voice.
“The fleet will be in firing range in three minutes.”
Realizing he’d been staring at the bulkheads for entirely too long, he said, “I will be on the bridge shortly.”
Klag got up. He stumbled to the right as he did so, and then slammed his fist into his desk.
“I would speak with you.”
Kurak turned to see Lokor standing in the entry-way to the engineering section, his arms folded across his broad chest. The chief engineer knew the head of security by reputation, though she had never met him until today. She had seen him, of course—with his lengthy, intricately braided hair, he was impossible to miss—but his presence had never been required in her area of responsibility, and she hardly went out of her way to socialize.
“Lieutenant, we are about to go into battle,” Kurak said impatiently. “Can’t this wait?”
“It is precisely because we are about to go into battle that we must have this conversation now.”
Letting out a long breath between her teeth, Kurak walked over to him, gripping her right wrist with her left hand. “Speak then, but do it quickly. I have little patience.”
“Which is part of the problem.” He swept one massive arm—uncovered, as Lokor was wearing a sleeveless tunic—toward the engineers scattering about their posts. “All the warriors on this ship are behind the captain. They know that his cause is just and honorable. Even those who do not agree with him follow him because it is their duty, even though it may mean death for us all.
“In fact, they are convinced that they will die because they know how hopeless our cause is. We are outnumbered, and Talak can call upon the resources of the entire fleet. The captain, at best, can depend upon what few members of the Order of the Bat’leth truly feel the siren call of honor in their blood.” Lokor smiled, a most unpleasant expression. “I have observed you to be a realist, Commander, so I think you would agree with me that truly honorable warriors in the Empire are few and far between.”
If I gave it any consideration whatsoever, I would, Kurak thought, but did not say so aloud. Interrupting Lokor would only make him take that much longer to finish what he was saying and go away.
“What is required in this engagement is innovation. The subspace eddies have required us to glean new ways of—”
Now Kurak did interrupt because she knew what Lokor would say. “I have already had this conversation with Klag, with Kornan, with Toq, and with the imbeciles under my command, Lieutenant. I will not tolerate it from you as well.”
The smile fell. “I will be the judge of what will be tolerated on this ship when it comes to the welfare of the troops. Right now, Commander, you are a liability because you refuse to do everything necessary to achieve victory. If we are to win this day, we must find a way for all our weapons to function in this mad space. Not only will it give us a tactical advantage, but it will say to the troops—who have beamed down to San-Tarah fully expecting to die in a futile gesture of honor—that we are doing all we can to win. Without that, the soldiers will simply go through the motions. But a warrior inspired to fight is a great thing indeed, and I believe that the warriors of this ship will shine given the chance. As the officers go, so go the troops. If they see you attempting to better our position, they will do the same.” Lokor walked forward, and loomed over Kurak. He stood a full head and a half taller than her, and his long braids fell menacingly down over his shoulders, like wam serpents preparing to strike. “If, on the other hand, you continue with the same disregard for your duties that you have displayed since we left the shipping yards, then we will lose this battle. I find this unacceptable. Therefore, you will do everything you can to achieve this goal, Commander.”
“Or what?” Kurak spoke dismissively. “You are beneath both my notice and my contempt, Lieutenant, and you have no authority over me. Now if you
’re quite finished, I—”
“Authority is nothing without power and resources, Commander,” Lokor said, not sounding at all dismissed. “After all, Captain Klag has no authority over General Talak, yet he uses the power of his convictions and the resources of the Order of the Bat’leth to do what is right.” Then the smile came back. “If you imagine that, as security chief of this ship, I am without either of those things, you are very much mistaken.”
“Killing me will not accomplish your goal, Lieutenant.”
“Nothing was said about killing, Commander,” Lokor said in a gentle tone that concerned Kurak more than a belligerent tone would have. “And with reason. As you rightly point out, killing you will not accomplish my goal.” He stood upright. “You will not be with us much longer, will you? Once your nephew enters his officer training, you will resign.”
Lokor’s knowledge of this did not surprise Kurak. Though she had not advertised the fact, she did not make a secret of it, either. “Yes.”
“The House of Palkar must always serve the Empire.” Lokor’s knowledge of her family’s pet phrase did surprise Kurak, but she said nothing as he continued. “Which means his entry into the Defense Force will free you to resign your commission and return to whatever civilian pursuits you occupied yourself with before others of your House were so inconsiderate as to die.” Lokor fixed his pitiless brown eyes on Kurak. “But what, I wonder, would you do if something happened to prevent your nephew from completing his training—or not even starting it?”
A cold sensation started in Kurak’s heart and spread to her entire chest. She found she could not feel her feet.
Lokor went on. “That would necessitate your remaining in the Defense Force for, what—three more years, at least?”
Kurak said nothing. She did not dare.
Baring his teeth in a manner similar to that of a trigak about to pounce, Lokor said, “We will not speak of this again, Commander. Because we will not have to.”
With that, he turned and left engineering.
Kurak stared after him.
But she did not see Lokor’s retreating form. She saw the long face of Moloj, the gIntaq for the House of Palkar, on the viewscreen of her office at the Science Institute on Mempa V.
She had been in the midst of a delicate experiment, as she and her team were very close to figuring out a way to increase the efficiency of the antimatter injectors in the smaller warp drives that shuttles and other low-personnel vehicles used. She hadn’t wanted to take the communication—when they were done, she was scheduled to go sailing on the lake outside the institute, something she had been promising herself for months and had finally secured the leave time to indulge in—but she knew better than to refuse Moloj. If it was something she could ignore, Moloj would have had one of his servants take care of the call; Moloj himself meant important family business.
“What do you want?” she had asked him then.
“Your father has requested that you return to the Homeworld immediately.”
That took Kurak aback. “For what reason?”
“Does it matter?” Moloj’s disdain came through the viewer quite clearly. He had never approved of Kurak’s choice to become a scientist and researcher. The House of Palkar was, after all, laden with heroes of the Defense Force, and Moloj could not understand why she would desire anything other than to follow in their footsteps.
“Yes, it does. I’m in the midst of delicate—”
“I’m sure that whatever vile experiments you are performing may seem vital, but—”
Kurak snarled. “My experiments are designed to increase the performance of the engines that your precious warriors use in battle! Even a fool with as limited vision as you have, old man, should be able to see that.”
Moloj had a small white beard that mostly served to hide the fact that he had no discernible chin. What little chin he had, however, twisted as Moloj obviously struggled to control his reaction. When she was a girl, Kurak used to enjoy teasing the usually unflappable gIntaq, to try to get some kind of reaction. As an adult, she had nothing but contempt for him, and tried to get a similar reaction mainly because she simply didn’t care.
She did not succeed, however. Instead, he looked away briefly, looked back at the viewer, and said, “Your father has requested that you return to the Homeworld immediately. The House transport will be arriving at Mempa V within the day. You will leave with it.”
Realizing there was nothing to gain by arguing, except for the perverse satisfaction of angering Moloj—which was not worth the effort—Kurak agreed. With irritation and regret, she cancelled her sailing jaunt, and then spent the rest of the day putting her affairs in order. The latter primarily consisted of explaining the situation to Makros. Luckily, her supervisor understood the dilemma. The House of Palkar was powerful, and one did not refuse the summons of so influential a House Head as Kurak’s father.
When she arrived at the Palkar estates on Qo’noS, Moloj greeted her at the door. “The captain is in his office.”
“The captain,” Kurak thought. Very subtle, Moloj.
Father kept his black hair relatively short. He had small, slanted eyes that were almost hidden under his elaborate crest. He sat at a massive wooden desk that was covered with padds and a workstation. The desk had been carved from a tree that had been at the center of the site on which the estate now sat.
After Moloj let her into the office, Kurak stood before her father. He didn’t even look up at her arrival, but continued working on one padd in particular. Then he put it down, picked up another, read it briefly, set it down, then, finally, looked up at his eldest daughter.
“I am reporting to Ty’Gokor tomorrow to take command of my fleet.” Father spoke in as straightforward a tone as Moloj had the previous day. “You will join me and enlist in the Defense Force. I assume that you would be of use as some kind of engineer.”
Kurak blinked. “Father, I—”
“The House of Palkar must—”
“ ‘—always serve the Empire,’ yes, I know, Father!” She could not believe this—and yet she had no trouble believing it. Moloj, after all, wasn’t the only one who looked upon her chosen profession with disdain. “You might recall that I designed Gowron’s flagship. If that does not constitute serving the Empire, then—”
“We leave at first sun. That is all.”
Then he picked up another padd and activated its display.
“Father, there is no need for this. My brothers, you, Mother, Grandmother—what more needs to be proven? I am a valued member of Makros’s staff, and I have—”
Looking back up, Father said, “It is not a question of what needs to be ‘proven.’ Since the days of Emperor Sompek, our House has served the Empire. You have been permitted your dalliance with the sciences because our House is well represented in the Defense Force, but things have changed. We are now at war with the Dominion, and we all must do everything we can. That is why you will accompany me to Ty’Gokor tomorrow.” He looked back down at his padd. “That is all.”
Through clenched teeth, Kurak said, “I do serve, Father, don’t you understand that—”
Now Father didn’t even bother to look up. “That is all, daughter. You will leave me now. If you do not accompany me tomorrow, you will be discommendated from this House.”
Her jaw fell open in stupefaction. Discommendation from House Palkar would completely cut her off from any further job opportunities at her current level. Makros would not be able to have her on staff in any serious capacity, and she would not be permitted to take any kind of position of responsibility in her field.
“This is how you maintain the honor of our House, then, is it, Father? Through threats and extortion?”
He still did not look up. “You have given me no choice. Moloj will take care of your needs until morning.”
Kurak stared at the top of her father’s head for several seconds before finally turning and departing his office.
As expected, Moloj waited outsi
de the door and led her to her rooms. They hadn’t changed in the ten years since she’d last set foot in them. Indeed, Moloj’s staff had maintained them perfectly. She resisted a very strong urge to set fire to the place.
The next day she and Father flew in silence to Ty’Gokor. Makros’s influence was enough to convince the higher-ups in the Defense Force to grant her the field rank of commander and place her on the Lallek as chief engineer.
She’d never been more miserable in her life. The mistake she made was in thinking that this was as bad as it could get.
Two years later, the Lallek was part of the task force that took Cardassia Prime. Kurak had eschewed the honor of joining Chancellor Martok and the Starfleet and Romulan officers who toured the charred remains of the planet. Instead, she had gone to her quarters to pack. The war was now over. The death toll had been tremendous: Makros died in a Breen attack on a shipyard, and Father’s fleet was destroyed at Avinall VII. Her brothers and grandparents were also killed in battle, and were probably now all serving on the same ship in Sto-Vo-Kor that the others of their House served on, gloating about how well they had served the Empire over the centuries. Kurak’s mother, Haleka, still served as a QaS DevwI’ on the Kri’stak, and could damn well carry on the family tradition without her. She hated the way the Defense Force operated, the way she was ordered like some kind of servant, the way she was expected to perform tasks without any proper tests or decent laboratory conditions. It was appalling, and it made her wonder how the Empire ever managed to win any victories.
Her packing was interrupted by a communication from Moloj. She no more wanted to take it now than she had two years earlier, but she also knew it would be futile not to.
Moloj’s hair had grown whiter in so short a time, but he otherwise had the same dull, long face. “Your mother is dead.”
Almost by habit, Kurak said, “I’m sure she died with honor.”
Then the realization hit her with the force of a quantum torpedo.
They’re all dead.
“Young Gevnar has not come of age yet. He will not be able to begin his officer training for another two years.”
Honor Bound Page 7