I.K.S. Gorkon Book One: A Good Day to Die

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Besides, Klag was not yet ready to leave this place.

  The door chime rang, and Klag said, “Enter.”

  B’Oraq came in, looking confused. “You sent for me?”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Klag had gone to the medical bay after the fight yesterday so his wounds and broken bones could be healed, but he and B’Oraq had not spoken beyond what was necessary to accomplish his treatment. Indeed, Klag had spoken very little that was not absolutely necessary to perform his duties yesterday.

  When Klag said nothing further, the doctor prompted, “Your hand is recovering?”

  “It is fine.” Klag blew out a breath and gave B’Oraq a smile. This seemed to confuse the doctor, and she tugged on that braid of hers. “This is an irritating habit of yours.”

  “Sir?” The doctor sounded understandably apprehensive.

  “Actually, two irritating habits. The first is the way you constantly tug on that braid.”

  “I don’t tug on my braid.”

  Klag smiled. “Yes, you do. But far more irritating is your habit of always being right. Seven months ago, you told me I would be wise to replace my right arm. I dismissed your idea out of hand as ridiculous. Yet I came to realize the value of having two working limbs, and was able to try to restore my family’s honor in the bargain when you grafted my father’s arm onto me. Yesterday, you told me that I was not yet ready to fight with a bat’leth, and again I dismissed you. Watching my performance against Me-Larr, I am once again forced to concede that you were right and I was wrong.”

  “I—Captain, I do not—”

  Klag held up a hand. “Say nothing. I simply wished to acknowledge it. I thought you deserved that much. I let my pride get in the way of what was best for the Empire. I should have chosen a different weapon.”

  “Or perhaps a different champion?”

  Shaking his head, Klag said, “No. The original decision to engage in these contests was mine, and it was my word that was given to Me-Larr that we would abide by it. I could not ask anyone else to stand in my place.”

  Kornan’s voice then sounded over the intercom. “Bridge to Klag.”

  “Klag.”

  “Incoming message from General Talak. The time delay is approximately thirteen hours.”

  “Put it through to me here.” He looked up. “You are dismissed, Doctor.”

  B’Oraq nodded and took her leave. She did, Klag noticed, have a small smile on her face. Triumphant, perhaps? Klag thought. Well, she’s earned it. I should know better by now than to underestimate her.

  As she walked toward the door, her hand moved to tug on her braid, then stopped. She stared at her hand for a moment as if she’d never seen it before, shook her head, and continued back out onto the bridge.

  Klag laughed, then activated his terminal’s viewscreen.

  General Talak’s face appeared, and Klag forced himself to remember that respect for the rank was of more importance at present than his lack of respect for the person. Still, he was grateful that this was a recorded message. After the exertions of the past day, Klag would have been hard-pressed to avoid his instinctive reaction of hatred to the very sight of the general’s white-haired, brown-bearded, gray-eyed self with the crest that matched the hated Kargan’s.

  “Captain Klag, I have reviewed your reports. While I appreciate your admiration for these primitives, I do not appreciate your attempts to speak on the Empire’s behalf, nor do I see any reason for the future of the Empire to be governed by words spoken to those who deserve only to be jeghpu’wI’. Regardless of the outcome of this ridiculous ‘contest’ that you and these people have concocted, San-Tarah is a world that must come under our flag. Brenlek will be fully conquered within three days of your reception of this message. You are to hold station at San-Tarah and await the arrival of the task force in five days’ time. I expect a full map of the subspace eddies and a tactical analysis of how best to secure the planet given the limitations presented by those eddies by the time the fleet arrives. San-Tarah will become part of the Empire within the next two weeks. I will contact you again when the task force is en route. Out.”

  Klag stared openmouthed at the now-frozen image of Talak on his screen.

  He replayed the message again, convinced that he could not have heard the words properly. It was impossible to believe that a Klingon had spoken them—and, his unfortunate relationship to the late Captain Kargan notwithstanding, Klag had never before doubted that Talak was a Klingon.

  Madness, he thought after a second viewing of the general’s message. Absolute madness. I am a captain of the Klingon Defense Force—of course I “speak for the Empire,” especially on a mission such as this. And even if I were not, I gave my word to Me-Larr and his people. That is all that matters.

  He activated his intercom. “Commander Kornan, report to my office.”

  Kornan entered after a few moments. Klag noted that the first officer wore the scars of his wounds proudly.

  Rather than try to explain things, Klag simply played the general’s message again.

  “As you can see, Commander, we have a decision to make.”

  The words were as much a test for Kornan as anything. Will he agree with the general or will he follow his Klingon heart? After ten weeks, Klag found he still did not entirely know if Kornan’s heart truly was Klingon.

  The first officer hesitated before finally speaking, and he did so slowly. “As I see it, Captain, we have two choices. The easiest choice, and the one with least risk to the crew, is to follow General Talak’s orders. None will think poorly of us if we do so, and it would give us a planet rich in resources that would be of great service to the Empire.”

  “All compelling arguments. And our second choice?”

  “Keep our word to the San-Tarah and go against General Talak’s orders. Take up arms against a task force that may be as many as a dozen ships, depending on how many are left behind at Brenlek. We would probably die, and possibly in disgrace if the truth of what happened here is suppressed.”

  A very cynical attitude, Klag thought, but not an unjust one. If Talak could so easily cast aside the word of a Klingon captain, there was obviously no end to his dishonorable behavior.

  “A fine summary of the dilemma, Commander.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “What is your opinion of General Talak’s statements?”

  Kornan started. “I would not presume—”

  “I order you to presume.” This was no time to be playing games. If Klag was to go through with what he planned, he had to have Kornan on his side. Their only chance of triumph was to present a united front. Even as weak as he seemed to be, Kornan was the second-in- command, and as such was potentially either his most useful asset or his most dangerous enemy. Klag vowed that Kornan would not walk out of this office alive unless he was the former. After all, Toq was next in line for the first officer’s position, and Klag knew he could count on him.

  Again, Kornan spoke slowly. “The general’s words are peculiar, but not completely surprising. His mandate is to expand the Empire, and to add worlds that will make us stronger.”

  Not good. “So you believe we are made stronger by casting aside the very tenets that we fight every day to preserve?”

  “I simply wish to present the captain with what I believe to be the general’s viewpoint, sir.”

  Slamming a fist down on his desk, Klag rose from his chair, walking around to stand face-to-face with the commander. “I know the general’s viewpoint! That is not what I am asking, Kornan. Tell me what you think.”

  Klag looked into Kornan’s space-black eyes, and Klag saw only befuddlement and confusion there. His left hand moving to his d’k tahg, Klag resigned himself to the inevitable—

  —until the look in Kornan’s eyes changed. It was, oddly, not one of resolve, but of resignation.

  “As I told you when I first reported on board, sir, years ago, I lost my way. I had always followed an honorable path, but I found only despair and defeat in my
wake. There were many days on the Rotarran when I seriously considered taking my own life, knowing full well that it would trap me in Gre’thor for eternity. But what did it matter? The Rotarran in many ways was the Barge of the Dead. I would simply be eliminating the final step.”

  Kornan started to pace across Klag’s office. “But then we at last were victorious. We defeated the Jem’Hadar, rescued the B’Moth. I had found my way.” He turned back to Klag. “Here, again, I am lost. I had thought myself ready for the challenges of being first officer, but I have failed in every regard. That I still live is a testament to your patience.” He barked a laugh. “Or perhaps a sense of masochism on your part, I cannot say for certain. I have become unsure of everything, to a degree I have not felt since those dark days on the Rotarran.” Kornan let out a long breath. “But I do know this: Whatever we do, we will lose. If we follow the general’s orders, we prove ourselves to be worthless as Klingons. If we oppose the general’s orders, we will be destroyed, and posthumously denounced as traitors. No matter what we do, the dishonorable path will rule in the end.” Kornan let out a long breath. “If that is the case—”

  Klag tightened his grip on the hilt of his d’k tahg.

  “—then I would prefer to die with honor than live with the betrayal we would be committing. I have seen enough darkness in my time, and I’d rather sneak out of Gre’thor than be denied Sto-Vo-Kor.”

  Klag stared at his first officer for several seconds.

  Then he threw his head back and laughed.

  Either Kornan was a far better actor than Klag gave him credit for, or he had finally shown his worth as the Gorkon’ s second-in-command. Klag left his d’k tahg sheathed.

  “Well said, Commander, well said.” He clapped Kornan on the shoulder. “But you are assuming one thing in your worst-case scenario—that we will face General Talak alone.”

  Sounding dubious, Kornan said, “Sir, I doubt the Children of San-Tarah will be of much aid.”

  “Do not be so sure of that—remember how they routed us our first night here—but that is not of whom I speak.”

  Then Klag removed a medallion from his uniform, one that had been there for the past ten weeks, since they departed from Ty’Gokor.

  Toq stood over the pilot’s console while Leskit put several course paths on the screen. He was fairly sure he had mapped out all the subspace eddies, and now he had conscripted Leskit to aid him in working out ways to navigate them. “That is probably the most efficient path through them, assuming you’ve finally gotten all of them,” Leskit said, pointing at one of the courses.

  Smiling, Toq said, “There is only one way to find out.”

  “No need. Kurak already wishes to disembowel me, I’d prefer not to give her further cause by taking the Gorkon into one of these eddies again.”

  Toq laughed. “Next time, do not volunteer for a mission you are ill equipped to serve on.”

  Leskit fingered his crescent-shaped beard. “I had believed it to be the same theory as piloting an airship. How was I to know that—”

  Unable to resist, Toq said, “You had brought a d’k tahg to a gunfight?” The pilot looked up and scowled at Toq, who just laughed again.

  “Watch your tongue, boy, or someone will cut it out.” Leskit, however, spoke with a grin.

  Returning the grin, Toq said, “That’s ‘Second Officer Boy’ to you, Lieutenant. I take it that you have not been able to work your charms on our chief engineer as you once did?”

  “Sadly, no. A pity—she seems like she could use it.”

  Toq barked a laugh. “She always seems that way. For that matter, she still seemed that way after you two had your tryst during your first tour. It does no good. She remains the most ill-tempered she-beast I have ever seen.”

  Leskit grinned a wide grin. “You’d be amazed what a she-beast can do under the right circumstances.”

  At that, they both laughed heartily. Toq clapped his hand on Leskit’s shoulder. “Very true. Transfer those course changes to my station.”

  Toq then walked back to the operations console. As he did so, he heard Grint, the ensign who had been assigned to the gunner’s position until Rodek was fit to return to duty, talking with the bekk at the cloaking-control station. “We should never have lost to them,” Grint said.

  “I do not see why we do not simply bombard them from orbit,” the bekk, who was no more than a boy, said. “They would be easy prey.”

  “The captain did give his word,” Grint pointed out.

  The bekk growled. “Perhaps he should not have done so to such primitives.”

  Giving the child a sharp look, Toq said, “Are you questioning the captain now, Bekk?”

  “I merely speak hypothetically,” the bekk said quickly, returning to his station.

  Grint turned to Toq. “I still cannot believe that we lost to such animals as that.”

  “The beast that I hunted and slew was an animal, Ensign,” Toq said. “The Children of San-Tarah are warriors. There is no shame in losing to a foe if the foe is worthy.”

  “Maybe—but winning is still better.”

  Toq smiled. “That is certainly—”

  He was interrupted by the rumbling sound of the captain’s office door opening. Toq turned to see Commander Kornan exit.

  “Lieutenant Toq,” Kornan said, approaching the operations station, “we have been given new orders. You are to complete the mapping of the subspace eddies and create battle plans for fighting within them.”

  Toq looked quickly over at Leskit, who looked as confused by the order as Toq felt. Turning back to his superior, Toq said, “We have already mapped them, Commander, and Lieutenant Leskit and I have come up with several flight scenarios. I will begin creating tactical ones immediately.”

  “See that you do. And prepare to address intraship as soon as the captain enters the bridge.”

  “Yes, sir.” Even as Toq spoke, Kornan sat at his station and entered commands into his console.

  Grint leaned over to Toq. “What is happening?”

  “I have no idea,” Toq said honestly as he prepared the bridge cameras for shipwide communication. Then Klag entered. “But I suspect we will gain an inkling in a moment.” To the captain, he said, “Intraship ready at your command, Captain.”

  “Proceed.”

  Toq activated the comm link.

  Standing at the fore of the bridge between the viewscreen and his command chair, Klag addressed the bridge crew directly; Toq had arranged that his face and words would be carried to every monitor on the Gorkon. Those monitors were in every cabin, corridor, workstation, and bunk, and could not be turned off, so there was no chance of anyone missing the announcement.

  “This is Captain Klag. What you are about to see is a communiqué I received from General Talak regarding the situation on San-Tarah—a situation which we had all believed to be resolved.”

  At Klag’s signal, Kornan then keyed in the message from Talak. Toq’s eyes went wide in surprise. Communications from Command were very occasionally shared with senior staff—never with the entire crew. Whatever is happening, it is of great consequence….

  Then Toq saw the message, and felt his stomachs try to meld together into one. The young lieutenant had always had nothing but respect for General Talak until this moment.

  “Are we oath-breakers, then?” Klag said when the general’s obscene message was done. “Do we cast aside all that Kahless taught us, everything that makes us who we are, simply because it may seem easier for us to do so? Perhaps that may be sufficient for some, but not on my ship.”

  Several members of the bridge crew rumbled their approval—even, Toq noticed, the boy at cloaking control.

  “Kahless slew his brother because he went back on his word, and I will do no less now. We fought against the Dominion to preserve our way of life. If we go back on our word to the Children of San-Tarah, we become no better than the Vorta and their changeling masters. Worse, we become Jem’Hadar—mindless, soulless, honorless automa
tons who know nothing of glory. I say we are more than that.”

  “Yes!” cried the ensign at fire control. “We are Klingons!” cried the one next to her at damage control.

  “I say that we will defy this general who would have us betray our very souls.”

  Toq was among the many who repeated the cry of “Yes!”

  “If there are any who object, who feel that we should not disobey the orders of our superiors, speak now—so we may strike you down as the honorless cowards you are!”

  More cheers. “Strike them down!” “We go with honor!”

  Toq smiled. Anyone on the bridge foolish enough to have that point of view was at least not quite so foolish as to say so out loud.

  Then Toq started to sing. He had first learned the song as a lullaby on Carraya, only to be told later by Worf that it was a victory song. He had been in no shape to sing it after his own capture of the chera-mak, but he started it now:

  “bagh Da tuH mogh, chojaH Du’rHo.”

  When he reached the refrain—a repetition of the phrase “don’t speak”—the entire bridge crew joined in.

  “yIja’Qo’, yIja’Qo’, yIja’Qo’.”

  At the start of the second verse, the speakers crackled with the sound of more singing. Toq imagined that the very bulkheads vibrated with the tumult of warriors rejoicing. If vacuum could carry sound, Toq had no doubt that General Talak himself would have been able to hear it at Brenlek.

  majaq u’tugh

  jIDaq majun

  pa’Daq cha’baH

  bu’raq tlhuQa’

  tep lagh negh’uH

  mughoto’ tu’

  yIja’Qo’

  yIja’Qo’

  yIja’Qo’

  When the second refrain ended, a great cheer went up on the bridge. Toq and Grint head-butted, as did several others.

  “Fear not!” Klag cried over the din, and his words served to quiet down the bridge once more. “We will not face the honorless general alone. Over a thousand years ago, the Order of the Bat’leth was formed by the Lady Lukara after Kahless ascended to Sto-Vo-Kor —both to spread his word and to enforce his doctrine. Today, the call will go out once more. Again, the Order of the Bat’leth will serve to remind the galaxy of what it means to be a Klingon!”