Trant growled, and his hand went to his d’k tahg.
“Are you going to challenge me, Trant?” G’joth asked. “Wouldn’t that require that you fight a fellow Klingon?”
The growl mutated into a huff, and Trant then turned and hobbled off. Only then did Wol realize that his leg was injured. She debated telling him to report to the HoSpI’tal that B’Oraq had set up, then decided that it wasn’t worth it. If he wants to heal himself, he knows where to go. If he does not, then he will die and be out of my squadron.
Maris simply stood there. Wol looked at him. “I notice you’ve been very quiet, Maris.”
Smiling, Maris said, “The last time I spoke in response to something Trant said, it set a chain of events in motion that led to my being demoted. I’d prefer to avoid anything worse happening in the future.”
“Very wise,” Wol said.
“Vok to Wol.”
Pressing the communicator on her wrist, the Leader replied, “Wol.”
“We have secured the Prime Village and the road. However, two other villages will need additional troops. The village of Val-Goral has fallen to the enemy—and they have set up transporter blockers, so we cannot beam in.”
Wol started. “They have managed to make transporter blockers work?” The first thing the Gorkon crew had attempted days ago was to get transporter blockers to function, but they wouldn’t work any better than hand scanners or disruptors.
“Yes—I want Fifteenth through Twentieth Squads to go to Val-Goral and take it back. The squads there are still fighting, but they’re contained. We need a fresh attack from the outside.”
“Who will lead the battle, you or QaS DevwI’ Klaris?” The assigned squads were from both troop commanders’ ranks.
“Neither. Klaris will be leading Twenty-first through Thirtieth Squads to supplement our forces at Val-Terin. We are losing ground there, and we need to begin our marine attack.”
Wol remembered that Val-Terin was the site of the largest dock along the Great Sea. Me-Larr had proposed using wind boats as a supplemental attack force from that village, armed with tal-lyns and some other upgrades from Gorkon engineers. But, perhaps recognizing this, Klag’s brother had sent more troops there than even to the Prime Village, and so the Gorkon troops and the Children of San-Tarah were having trouble holding the village.
“So who will lead us?”
“You, Leader Wol.”
Imagining Vok’s cheerful grin as he spoke, Wol found her own jaw falling open. “Me?”
“You lead the first among the assigned squads. To whom else would I give the honor?”
Wol resisted the urge to say, “Almost anyone else.”
“Assemble the troops and leave immediately, Leader. Your main objective is to capture those transporter blockers.”
Many thoughts ran through Wol’s head, most of them wondering whether or not Vok had suffered some kind of cranial trauma to put her in charge. But all she said was “Understood, QaS DevwI’.”
Then she sent Maris after Trant. They had work to do.
“Incoming transmission from the Vidd on the coded frequency,” Toq said from behind Klag.
The captain smiled. He’d been expecting this. “On screen. Grint, another spread on the Tagak.”
Klag had been careful: the Gorkon had left Ty’Gokor with a full complement of one hundred and two photon torpedoes, and had used none of them prior to today’s battle, but they still needed to ration them, as they were the only available weapons. To his irritation—but not his surprise, given Dorrek’s prior knowledge of Klag’s fleet of Order ships—his enemy also had use of photons.
The image on the viewscreen changed from six torpedoes making short work of the Tagak’s secondary hull to that of K’Vada. “I was wondering, Captain, when you were planning to inform the rest of us of those mines.”
“You were informed when the first one exploded. The courses I gave you to follow were very specific, and avoided encountering any of them.”
“I swore fealty to you, Captain. I don’t appreciate being lied to.”
“You weren’t. I never said there weren’t any mines.”
“Such semantic trickery—you sound like a human.”
Letting the insult pass, Klag leaned forward. “Captain, you may have observed that our foes are firing torpedoes even with the subspace interference. That means that we have a traitor in our midst, and it behooves me to be parsimonious with intelligence. That is my right as leader of this battle. If you wish to challenge that—”
“Of course not,” K’Vada said quickly. “I just hope your other surprises continue to benefit us and not the general. Out.”
As K’Vada’s face faded from the viewer, Klag ordered a tactical overlay.
The Tagak was dead in space, and the Gro’tak had been destroyed. That left six ships in the general’s fleet—and only two of them, the K’mpec and the Gogam, were actually engaged in battle. Captain Huss’s three birds-of-prey were going through the subspace eddies, apparently trying to ferret out the mines, and General Talak was hanging back in reserve.
But Klag had lost the Slivin, and the Ch’marq and the Qovin were badly damaged. The Taj was engaged with the Gogam—the last of the Karas-class strike ships—but neither ship was making much headway, trying as they were to conserve torpedoes and avoid the damaging subspace eddies. The K’mpec was making short work of the Ch’marq and Qovin.
With his own foes down, that left Klag to either come to the aid of the Qovin and the Ch’marq against Dorrek, help the Taj against the Gogam, or take the Akua.
While he contemplated, Kornan said, “Grint, fire one torpedo on the Tagak.”
Klag nodded his approval. It wouldn’t do to waste more than one torpedo, and in the state the Tagak was in, that would be sufficient to destroy it. They could not risk keeping the enemy alive so they could effect repairs and rejoin the battle. Better to send them to Sto-Vo-Kor as quickly and efficiently as possible.
The Qovin and the Ch’marq needed his help the most. Especially, Klag thought, since Daqset never swore fealty to me. He may well be the traitor.
No, he finally decided, I will not fire on my brother. And Captain B’Edra, he knew, could take care of herself. That left the third option.
To Kornan, he said, “It is time the general joined the battle that he has begun. We will lure him into the eddies.”
“Yes, sir.” Kornan rose and looked at Grint. “Fire two torpedoes on the Akua.”
Klag turned to the pilot’s position. “Leskit, plot the most direct course to San-Tarah.”
Leskit whirled around. “That would involve the most maneuvering.”
“Yes, and you’ve had five days to perfect the art of such maneuvers. I doubt that the general’s pilot will be so proficient.”
Laughing, Leskit said, “I should hope not. Setting course.”
“Minimal damage to the Akua,” Grint reported.
Toq added, “They are changing course to intercept and have locked their own torpedoes.”
“Execute course,” Kornan said, “half impulse.”
Klag gave his first officer an approving nod. He would have been content with quarter impulse—in that labyrinth out there, it would be enough of a challenge—but he preferred the more aggressive posture.
The captain clenched his father’s former fist in appreciation. The battle goes better than expected. Rodek’s mines had done their work well, taking out two of the enemy before the battle even started. The numbers were closer to even, and Klag had important advantages: superior knowledge of the territory, for one thing, and the cause of honor. It may be a good day to die, but it is a better day to win.
“Akua is pursuing on an intercept course with us,” Toq said. “They’re firing.”
The torpedoes collided with the Gorkon’s shields even as both ships continued wending their way toward the planet. “Shields down to seventy-five percent,” Grint said. “They’re firing again.”
“Aft torpedoes, lock on an
d return fire,” Kornan said.
Klag’s eyes remained fixed on the viewscreen, which showed the Akua moving closer. “Speed of the Akua?”
“Full impulse,” Toq said.
Throwing his head back, Klag laughed. “The general is a bigger fool than I thought. He risks—”
The Akua’s course changed suddenly. A piece of their left wing exploded, though the debris was not visible.
“Report!” Kornan barked. Klag, however, suspected the answer.
Toq said, “The Akua’s port wing has crossed into one of the subspace eddies. Their shields are down!”
“Fire torpedoes!” Klag and Kornan both barked.
Just as Grint did so, a collision alarm went off.
“I’ve lost helm control!” Leskit said.
“We’ve also hit an eddy, sir,” Toq said. “Damage to aft hull. Shields and cloak are offline. Structural-integrity field is failing!”
“I’ve regained helm control,” Leskit said with remarkable calm. “Resuming course.”
Several consoles in the aft section exploded. “Torpedo impact with the neck!” Grint cried over the alarms.
“Structural-integrity field down to fourteen percent!”
“Sir,” Kornan said, looking down at his own console, “the Taj!”
Klag whirled on his first officer. “What about it?”
“It and the Gogam are changing course!”
“On screen!”
Looking to the viewer, Klag saw both ships—in formation—heading into orbit of San-Tarah.
Toq said, “They are on an intercept course for the K’mpec’s position, sir.”
A moment later, they had achieved orbit—and both ships fired in tandem on both the Qovin and the Ch’marq. The bird-of-prey exploded in a fiery conflagration, and the Ch’marq’s running lights dimmed to almost nothing, its hull pocked with breaches.
Ten weeks ago, B’Edra had praised Klag’s prowess at Narendra III and toasted B’Oraq’s medical accomplishments. Klag had classified her as the one among his allies to be the most trustworthy.
And she has betrayed me.
Kornan looked up. “Sir, the Taj is beaming ground troops to the surface of San-Tarah.”
“Structural-integrity field down to ten percent,” Toq added.
Now Klag pounded the arm of his chair with his right fist. The battle is no longer going better than expected….
Chapter Seven
G’joth lay on his belly and began to understand why taking Val-Goral was going to be a challenge.
The village was located in a valley that was accessible only by sea (north and west) or via a steep incline with no cover (east and south). Along with the other members of the fifteenth, G’joth was positioned at the top of one of the southern inclines, looking down on Val-Goral. He could see several Klingons setting up a command post, the bodies of many Klingons and Children of San-Tarah lining the ground, and isolated pockets of fighting.
G’joth suspected that Me-Larr had assured the QaS DevwI’ that they would have little trouble defending this place, and so did not send sufficient troops to defend it. Or, rather, the number of troops would have been sufficient if not for transporter technology. While a direct assault would be anticipated by virtue of the steep approach, the troops that arrived from the K’mpec could just beam into the village.
The transporter blockers meant that the Gorkon troops could not use the same tactics. Luckily, we don’t have to.
Next to him, Leader Wol activated her communicator, which was on a coded frequency that Lieutenant Toq had developed for use among those fighting on the side of the Order of the Bat’leth. “Eighteenth, Nineteenth, and Twentieth Squads, prepare for frontal assault.” Those three squads were positioned at the easternmost part of the incline. “The rest, prepare grenades.”
G’joth grinned. His idea to make grenades had worked out spectacularly. They required only material found on San-Tarah or on the Gorkon, and were chemical in nature, and therefore not susceptible to the vicissitudes of the subspace eddies.
Each grenade was a hollow metal oval, into which they had placed the sand from the shores of the Prime Village and a small glass bottle containing ngIS—a lubricant used on the disruptor cannons, and which the Gorkon had in plentiful supply. Throwing the grenade with sufficient force would break the bottle upon impact with a solid surface—they had been using B’Oraq’s specimen bottles, which were fairly fragile—causing an explosive chemical reaction with one of the minerals in the sand.
Wol continued. “Focus grenade barrage on the command center.”
“Leader,” Trant said, “I noticed something.”
“You’re an idiot?” G’joth muttered.
“I’m sure the bekk’s observation is less blindingly obvious,” Wol said dryly. “What is it, Trant?”
Baring his teeth in a snarl at G’joth, Trant then turned back to the Leader. “Several of the warriors below are armed with some kind of old-fashioned projectile weapon.”
Wol nodded. “Yes, I saw that. They look like a human device called a QoSbow.” She laughed. “They’re also useless against us. Those shafts can’t penetrate our uniforms.”
“Then why would they use them?” Trant asked.
“For use against the San-Tarah,” G’joth said impatiently. “They have no protection against them.” How did we get stuck with these imbeciles? G’joth wondered. After almost a decade of serving with Davok on a variety of ships and squadrons, to find himself without his best friend was bad enough. True, he was an irritating, foolish malcontent of a toDSaH, but at least G’joth knew he could count on Davok to be there for him when it mattered. Trant and Maris had yet to earn such consideration. He’d fear for his own prospects for an honorable death if he didn’t have such faith in Wol and Goran.
As for those archaic weapons, G’joth wasn’t too concerned about them. Though that type of weapon was quite popular in the days before disruptors, it had fallen sufficiently out of favor with most warriors that G’joth couldn’t even remember what it was called in Klingon. After all, if one wished to attack from a distance, one might as well use a disruptor, as it was infinitely more effective. As Wol pointed out, modern Klingon armor was proof against such bolts, and the weapon was useless for the more intimate combat provided by a knife or a sword.
In fact, G’joth was amazed that any such weapons even existed on the K’mpec. Obviously, they have a collector on board.
Trant then handed Wol a long-range viewer. Most of its settings were useless on this world, but its magnification capacity was mechanical, based on lenses, and so still had its uses. “Take a look at the bolts in those weapons.”
Wol took the viewer and peered through it. “Those appear to be metallic.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Maris said dismissively.
G’joth was less dismissive. He had assumed the shafts to be wooden.
Activating her communicator, Wol said, “Prepare grenade barrage.” She then looked at Goran, G’joth, Trant, and Maris in turn. “We will focus our barrage on those with QoSbows. If those are metal shafts, they could do considerable damage to the three squads making the frontal assault, and they’ll be taking heavy casualties as it is. Surprise is our best weapon right now.”
“I still think this entire exercise is foolish.”
G’joth finally lost his temper. “Then what are you doing here, Trant? Does the call of battle not sing in your heart?”
“Of course it does!”
“Then listen to it! What does it matter if the foe is Klingon, Romulan, or Child of San-Tarah? What difference does it make who orders us to go into battle? What matters is that we go into battle! You are alongside fellow warriors, preparing to engage in that most pure of all pursuits! This is not a time to whine about motives like some kind of Ferengi. It is a time to celebrate!”
Goran, Maris, and some of the soldiers of the sixteenth who were nearby all murmured their approval of G’joth’s words. Wol laughed and said, “You should have
finished that poem, G’joth.”
But G’joth thought only of Davok, who would never join him in battle again. He never missed his friend more than he did right now.
Wol, meanwhile, had put the viewer to her eyes again. “Something is wrong.” She put the viewer down and activated her communicator a third time. “We are altering the plan. Fifteenth, Sixteenth, and Seventeenth Squads will engage in frontal assault. Eighteenth, Nineteenth, and Twentieth Squads, remain at your posts and prepare your grenades.”
Maris scowled. “Why do we change the engagement at this late date?”
“Look at how the warriors armed with QoSbows are positioned,” Wol said, handing Maris the viewer.
After several seconds staring at it, Maris said, “I see no pattern.”
“Give me that,” G’joth said angrily, snatching the viewer from Maris’s hands. He looked, and saw that they were all positioned at intervals that seemed very specific. He had seen the pattern before, but could not place it.
Then, finally, he saw it. “The Battle of Kamross.”
“Exactly,” Wol said. “And they’re positioned for an attack to the east.”
Goran asked, “What is the Battle of Kamross?”
“A campaign fought by Kravokh before he ascended to the High Council,” G’joth said. “He defended a valley similar to this by positioning warriors with disruptors to fend off a frontal assault at distant intervals so no one force could take all of them out from above.”
Maris snarled. “So what? So we know that they will be ready for an assault. Only a fool would not be.”
Wol turned to Maris. “They are ready for an assault from the east. They know our specific plan of attack. Which means there is a traitor in our midst. Therefore, I am changing the plan of attack. Are you questioning my orders, Bekk?”
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