Great work - I'm enjoying this story immensely! Wonderful characterization of the Klingons.
Nice picture, Mirandafave!
Nice picture, Mirandafave!
A United Trek Tale - "For the Empire"
- Thread starter Dnoth
- Start date
Is it possible that the 2 higher-ups from the last sequence are going to use Alexander to restore honor to the Empire's policies? Everybody else assumed they were plotting against the House of Martok-why not for it?
The overall story is great-as it develops I like the title more too-the potential is amazing. Alexander is working to help the Empire's dignity-who knows what others might be working towards but at least he has his father as a RELUCTANT ally.
That cover pic is great!
The overall story is great-as it develops I like the title more too-the potential is amazing. Alexander is working to help the Empire's dignity-who knows what others might be working towards but at least he has his father as a RELUCTANT ally.
That cover pic is great!
Oh yeah. Very cynical of the rest of us, though Klingons will be Klingons, it's hard to get around that mindset.
CHATPER 3
Stardate: 54356.9 (11 May 2377)
State of Go’hachar
Hachar, Southern Continent
Elder Tahocha’s thin, long, silver hair flowed in the breeze as he held an impromptu war council.
He ordered what machines of war he had left to scatter across the country side. All were quickly discovered by the invaders and destroyed; except the ones hidden in this wooded valley.
Senior Guardian Pasho addressed the unasked question on everyone’s mind. “Our scientists can only guess deposits of various heavy metals in the mountains are hiding us from these…Klingons.”
“We can only hope these aliens’ overconfidence will allow us to go unnoticed,” commented the Elder. He continued, “What resources do we have left?”
Pasho held down a paper that was lifted by the wind. “Twelve tanks, 9 aero-fighters, 1500 soldiers, and we are in contact with 2 remaining submarines.” He grimly assessed, “About 2% of our former forces.”
Tahocha solemnly nodded. He looked at his council. Many were faces he’d never seen before. They were lower guardians placed in an unnatural situation. Fear was plastered on their faces. The Elder began, “Many of you are not old enough to remember, but many years ago, Go’hachar was occupied by the forces of Lord Chamis of Do’hachar.” He made eye contact with each of his subordinates. “Our cities were burned. Our children were taken. Chamis nearly wiped our people out.” He placed a frail hand on Pasho, “But we concealed ourselves. We waited and we watched for weakness. When the time came, we forced the Do’hacharans off our lands.
We will do that again. It will not by easy, but it will be done.”
The group appreciated the anecdote, but doubt still encompassed them.
*****
The cloak of leadership hung off Martok’s shoulders. He walked with the son of Mogh in the corridors of the Great Hall.
Worf, who bore the robes of an ambassador, spoke, “I wish to speak of our invasion of Fu’puk II, Chancellor.”
The one-eyed, former general, searched his mind. “Ah yes, I’ve read reports on that planet. The natives are proving to be worthy foes, despite there less advanced technology. General K’Vada estimates it will take another month to secure the planet.”
“I too, have heard reports from the front, Chancellor.”
Martok rolled his eye slightly, for two reasons. Despite many promptings, Worf refused to address him by his given name since he had ascended to the chancellorship…and he anticipated the direction of the conversation.
The ambassador continued, “Our warriors’ actions have been bringing dishonor to the Empire, there.”
Martok stopped and spun around to his companion, “Worf, I know of your son’s complaints.”
“You knew?”
The chancellor sighed, it was almost a low groan, “You, more than anyone, know how much pressure I am under to expand our borders.” He stepped closer, “I was not born of noble blood like the rest of the Council. I am tolerated as leader because of my…support from the lower classes, and my actions during the Dominion War, but that tolerance is waning, Worf.”
The former Starfleet officer paused. A hint of guilt hit him. He was the one who put Martok in this position. Worf could not very well complain about the chancellor’s performance, now.
“What would you have me do?” pressed Martok, “Withdraw our forces?”
Worf shook his head and admitted, “No…No, the fight has begun. We cannot pull back, now.”
“Then what?”
Worf considered, “Perhaps a…a code of ethics…of honor could be imposed upon our warriors.”
“Ethics?” Martok repeated as if it were a foreign word, “How do you propose we instill ethics to warriors -- Klingon warriors -- who have been trained to kill for generations?”
The son of Mogh looked to the stone floor.
The chancellor’s eye found the ambassador's. He continued in a more sympathetic tone, “You’re intentions are noble. But if we move forward with this, it will only serve to empower our enemies.”
After a moment, Worf began to nod. “Of course, Chancellor. You are right. Now is not the time.”
Martok grasped Worf’s shoulders, “I need your support, Worf. Do I have it?”
Worf stood taller, “Yes, Qang Martok.”
*****
With a heavy CLAK, the hatch slid open. Sogh J’pak walked into the captain’s office. His footfalls were loud on the metal deck. Instead of the full uniform, J’pak preferred a vest-type garment. The old and worn uniform belonged to his father. It showed off the young warriors defined muscles.
The second officer pounded his fist on his chest and offered the Imperial salute. “HoD Ch’Pogh, you summoned me.”
The master of the vessel rose and rounded the desk. “You plan to challenge the son of Worf?” It was more of a statement.
The second officer proudly responded in the affirmative, “HIja’”
“That is your concern. I have no issue with it,” said Ch’Pogh. He walked right up to the warrior and continued, “But you will not act before I say you can.”
J’pak was confused, “qatlh”
The captain blasted, “It is not for you to question ‘why,’ Sogh!” He put his face right up to young officer’s. To J’pak’s credit, he didn’t recoil. “Unless, you intend to challenge me.”
As ritual demanded, the second officer looked down, “ghobe’ HoD Ch’Pogh.”
“maj,” concluded the captain. He returned to his seat, “I look forward to having you as my first officer. Now, be gone.”
J’pak saluted once more, “HIja’ HoD,” and promptly left.
*****
An image of Worf repeated on the terminal, “I did attempt to convince Martok, but he could not be swayed.”
“These people have done nothing to us!” pleaded Alexander, “They don’t deserve what we’re doing to them.”
The ambassador considered for a moment, “I am sorry, Alexander.” He continued, “But you must bear this out. Nothing more can be done.”
The son of Worf crossed his arms and leaned back. After a moment of silence, he said, “I understand, father.” Without waiting for a valedictory, the KDF officer ended the communication.
Yaava, who overhead the conversation, moved to comfort her mate. “It was worth a try, loDwIj.” She placed her hands on his shoulders.
Alexander sighed, “There must be something more I can do.”
“I don’t see what,” observed Yaava, “You’ve protested to everyone that could make a difference in the whole Empire.”
He bit his lip and shook his head. A feeling of total dejection came over him. It felt like he had no friends left in the Empire…aside from Yaava, of course.
‘…in the Empire,’ he thought.
Suddenly, Alexander nearly jumped out of his seat. He grabbed Yaava by the arms in excitement. “Can you get a message out without anyone knowing about it?”
Half startled, she answered, “I could.”
END OF CHAPTER 3
Stardate: 54356.9 (11 May 2377)
State of Go’hachar
Hachar, Southern Continent
Elder Tahocha’s thin, long, silver hair flowed in the breeze as he held an impromptu war council.
He ordered what machines of war he had left to scatter across the country side. All were quickly discovered by the invaders and destroyed; except the ones hidden in this wooded valley.
Senior Guardian Pasho addressed the unasked question on everyone’s mind. “Our scientists can only guess deposits of various heavy metals in the mountains are hiding us from these…Klingons.”
“We can only hope these aliens’ overconfidence will allow us to go unnoticed,” commented the Elder. He continued, “What resources do we have left?”
Pasho held down a paper that was lifted by the wind. “Twelve tanks, 9 aero-fighters, 1500 soldiers, and we are in contact with 2 remaining submarines.” He grimly assessed, “About 2% of our former forces.”
Tahocha solemnly nodded. He looked at his council. Many were faces he’d never seen before. They were lower guardians placed in an unnatural situation. Fear was plastered on their faces. The Elder began, “Many of you are not old enough to remember, but many years ago, Go’hachar was occupied by the forces of Lord Chamis of Do’hachar.” He made eye contact with each of his subordinates. “Our cities were burned. Our children were taken. Chamis nearly wiped our people out.” He placed a frail hand on Pasho, “But we concealed ourselves. We waited and we watched for weakness. When the time came, we forced the Do’hacharans off our lands.
We will do that again. It will not by easy, but it will be done.”
The group appreciated the anecdote, but doubt still encompassed them.
*****
The cloak of leadership hung off Martok’s shoulders. He walked with the son of Mogh in the corridors of the Great Hall.
Worf, who bore the robes of an ambassador, spoke, “I wish to speak of our invasion of Fu’puk II, Chancellor.”
The one-eyed, former general, searched his mind. “Ah yes, I’ve read reports on that planet. The natives are proving to be worthy foes, despite there less advanced technology. General K’Vada estimates it will take another month to secure the planet.”
“I too, have heard reports from the front, Chancellor.”
Martok rolled his eye slightly, for two reasons. Despite many promptings, Worf refused to address him by his given name since he had ascended to the chancellorship…and he anticipated the direction of the conversation.
The ambassador continued, “Our warriors’ actions have been bringing dishonor to the Empire, there.”
Martok stopped and spun around to his companion, “Worf, I know of your son’s complaints.”
“You knew?”
The chancellor sighed, it was almost a low groan, “You, more than anyone, know how much pressure I am under to expand our borders.” He stepped closer, “I was not born of noble blood like the rest of the Council. I am tolerated as leader because of my…support from the lower classes, and my actions during the Dominion War, but that tolerance is waning, Worf.”
The former Starfleet officer paused. A hint of guilt hit him. He was the one who put Martok in this position. Worf could not very well complain about the chancellor’s performance, now.
“What would you have me do?” pressed Martok, “Withdraw our forces?”
Worf shook his head and admitted, “No…No, the fight has begun. We cannot pull back, now.”
“Then what?”
Worf considered, “Perhaps a…a code of ethics…of honor could be imposed upon our warriors.”
“Ethics?” Martok repeated as if it were a foreign word, “How do you propose we instill ethics to warriors -- Klingon warriors -- who have been trained to kill for generations?”
The son of Mogh looked to the stone floor.
The chancellor’s eye found the ambassador's. He continued in a more sympathetic tone, “You’re intentions are noble. But if we move forward with this, it will only serve to empower our enemies.”
After a moment, Worf began to nod. “Of course, Chancellor. You are right. Now is not the time.”
Martok grasped Worf’s shoulders, “I need your support, Worf. Do I have it?”
Worf stood taller, “Yes, Qang Martok.”
*****
With a heavy CLAK, the hatch slid open. Sogh J’pak walked into the captain’s office. His footfalls were loud on the metal deck. Instead of the full uniform, J’pak preferred a vest-type garment. The old and worn uniform belonged to his father. It showed off the young warriors defined muscles.
The second officer pounded his fist on his chest and offered the Imperial salute. “HoD Ch’Pogh, you summoned me.”
The master of the vessel rose and rounded the desk. “You plan to challenge the son of Worf?” It was more of a statement.
The second officer proudly responded in the affirmative, “HIja’”
“That is your concern. I have no issue with it,” said Ch’Pogh. He walked right up to the warrior and continued, “But you will not act before I say you can.”
J’pak was confused, “qatlh”
The captain blasted, “It is not for you to question ‘why,’ Sogh!” He put his face right up to young officer’s. To J’pak’s credit, he didn’t recoil. “Unless, you intend to challenge me.”
As ritual demanded, the second officer looked down, “ghobe’ HoD Ch’Pogh.”
“maj,” concluded the captain. He returned to his seat, “I look forward to having you as my first officer. Now, be gone.”
J’pak saluted once more, “HIja’ HoD,” and promptly left.
*****
An image of Worf repeated on the terminal, “I did attempt to convince Martok, but he could not be swayed.”
“These people have done nothing to us!” pleaded Alexander, “They don’t deserve what we’re doing to them.”
The ambassador considered for a moment, “I am sorry, Alexander.” He continued, “But you must bear this out. Nothing more can be done.”
The son of Worf crossed his arms and leaned back. After a moment of silence, he said, “I understand, father.” Without waiting for a valedictory, the KDF officer ended the communication.
Yaava, who overhead the conversation, moved to comfort her mate. “It was worth a try, loDwIj.” She placed her hands on his shoulders.
Alexander sighed, “There must be something more I can do.”
“I don’t see what,” observed Yaava, “You’ve protested to everyone that could make a difference in the whole Empire.”
He bit his lip and shook his head. A feeling of total dejection came over him. It felt like he had no friends left in the Empire…aside from Yaava, of course.
‘…in the Empire,’ he thought.
Suddenly, Alexander nearly jumped out of his seat. He grabbed Yaava by the arms in excitement. “Can you get a message out without anyone knowing about it?”
Half startled, she answered, “I could.”
END OF CHAPTER 3
I think Worf hit the nail on the head here. But he used the wrong word. This is not about ethics but about honor. That would be the one and only way to convince Klingon warriors to change their behavior.
The problem with Klingons is that they have wildly different interpretations of what honor means exactly. We've seen the ''good'' type which refuses to kill women and children for example and we've seen the all-that-matters-is-victory kind.
But I guess I'm overanalyzing things here. Interesting development and I'm quite eager to find out what Alexander's next move is going to be.
The problem with Klingons is that they have wildly different interpretations of what honor means exactly. We've seen the ''good'' type which refuses to kill women and children for example and we've seen the all-that-matters-is-victory kind.
But I guess I'm overanalyzing things here. Interesting development and I'm quite eager to find out what Alexander's next move is going to be.
In TNG, I always felt that Worf embraced an idealized image of the Klingon warrior, infused with honor, courage, nobility, etc. It seems that reality is much different.
Alexander is about to play a dangerous game. Contacting Starfleet for help (if that is what he's about to do) could be considered an act of treason - alliance or not. Not to mention, the second officer is out for blood!
More, please!
Alexander is about to play a dangerous game. Contacting Starfleet for help (if that is what he's about to do) could be considered an act of treason - alliance or not. Not to mention, the second officer is out for blood!
More, please!
Oh Alexander what are ye about to do? Obviously the Captain may have anticipated his possible course of action and no wonder he wants the second officer to hold off challenging him. Bad news all over the place.
CHAPTER 4
Supplemental
USS Perseus, Main Engineering
Patrolling the Federation-Gorn Border
The swirling intermix chamber of the Intrepid class starship glowed various shades of blue as Lieutenant Angela "Treasure" Barrows, enjoying the rare downtime in the area, propped her feet up on a console as she read a technical report while the country tunes of L. Q. "Sonny" Clemonds played in the background.
The double doors of main engineering parted to allow the first officer, Anara Rysyl, to enter. The smooth headed, female Deltan had a stoic look on her face. Quickly spotting Lieutenant Barrows, Anara walked towards her as the well endowed chief engineer took a more professional posture.
"As you were, Treasure." Commander Rysyl said quickly, flashing the engineer a shaky smile.
"Well hey, Commander," the North Star native began in her usual twang, "Can I help ya wit somethin'?"
"Captain Hobson wanted to put together a requisition request to fleet logistics in advance of our stop at Starbase 90," explained the first officer.
Barrows jumped in, "No problem. I'll make up a list of parts and supplies and get it to ya as soon as I can."
Anara curtsied, "Thanks," and began to walk away.
Concerned about her longtime shipmate and friend, Treasure quickly added, "You ok, hon? Usually this time o' day, you're bouncin' off the walls, but now you look like somethin' the cat dragged in."
The Deltan sighed. She wasn't offended by the casual tone in the least. They had been through enough to drop ranks.
"Is it the captain?" guessed the engineer.
She nodded in response and added, "Let's just say, I picked up on an …old feeling when I was talking to him."
"Oh," she replied. Treasure was well aware of Hobson and Rysyl's former relationship and how it had changed following their first mission last year.
Not in the mood to talk about it, Commander Rysyl walked off, "Excuse me, I have to talk to Lieutenant Velen."
The engineer understood; a worried look on her face as the Deltan woman retreated back the way she came, "Sure thing, Commander."
*****
"Captain," T'Pren, the lovely Vulcan female head of tactical, called out. Her long, auburn hair was dresses up in a pony tail. "We're receiving a sub-space message. It has a Klingon signature."
Captain Christopher Hobson, sitting in the captain's chair of his first command, looked towards his tactical chief, "Where is it coming from?" He asked in a cool, detached tone.
"I'm not sure. It's being routed through various relays."
Nodding his head, the captain stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Whoever our friend is…" he speculated, "…he doesn't want anyone else to know that he's placing the call. Alright,
Mr. T'Pren…put it on screen, if you please."
A young, Klingon officer appeared in the visor staring at Hobson, his eyes filled with a mixture of anguish, disgust, revulsion, and…fear. Possibly fear of being found out. The analytical Hobson thought as he regarded the image on his screen.
Standing up Hobson introduced himself, "I'm Captain Christopher Hobson of the Federation ship Perseus. Can we assist you?"
"Captain," said the Klingon in a rushed cadence, "My name is Alexander Rozhenko. I'm an officer on board a KDF ship in the Fu'puk system. There is a desperate situation here. Thousands are dying everyday."
With neither his facial expressions nor mannerisms giving any indication of the suddenly very concerned captain, Hobson stepped forward. "What is happening? Are you under attack? It is a virus?"
Alexander shook his head, "No, no. You don't understand. We are doing the killing."
Turning his head towards his security chief, Hobson raised an eyebrow in an almost Vulcan gesture as the Vulcan woman shrugged her shoulders in a remarkably human manner. Turning his attention back to the main screen, Chris spoke in a level voice, "Perhaps you should explain what is going on, Officer Rozhenko."
*****
An hour later, the senior officers were in the forward facing conference room.
Standing up as the rest of his officer remained seated, Captain Hobson elaborated to his crew. "According to this Alexander Rozhenko, the Klingons arrived there weeks ago. They've been killing and raping indiscriminately ever since."
T'Pren, a v'tosh katur - a Vulcan without logic, added, "I've confirmed his identity. He's the son of Worf…"
"As in Worf…the person who installed Chancellor Martok…Worf?" injected the operations officer, Lieutenant Commander Devon Miller, his eyes widening in astonishment.
"That's right," confirmed the tactical officer testily as she barely restrained herself at the operations officer's interruption.
Junior Lieutenant Yitzhak Shalev leaned in as he brushed back a lock of dark hair, "Why would he ask us for help?"
The first officer fielded the question, "He claims he exhausted his options within the Empire."
"Sir, what does he expect us to do about it?" asked Miller.
Hobson spoke, "He wants us to bring it to the attention of Starfleet Command and the Federation Council, so they can apply political pressure to the Klingons." He walked around the table, "I've contacted Command about the situation and requested instructions. I've also asked additional starships to meet us at the Fu'puk system."
Chuckling at the Klingon designation for the system, Treasure quipped, "Well…at least they didn't call it Fu…"
"Treasure…" Hobson quickly interrupted, "Now, what did I tell you about making fun of the Klingons?"
"That they're too easy a target, sir." The engineer, the smile still on her face as the sound of stifled snickers temporarily filled the room.
"That's right, Lieutenant." Hobson deadpanned with a straight face as he once again addressed his officers. "Are there any other questions?"
"Why do we have to go there, sir?" asked Lieutenant Velen, the Denobulan science officer. "Doesn't this fall under the Prime Directive? After all, the Hacharans didn't issue the distress call. It appears to be an internal Klingon matter."
The captain answered, "A fair question, Mr. Velen. As I see it, we've been given a distress call on behalf of the Hacharans. Fu'puk II is in unclaimed space. We have as much right to be there as the Klingons."
"Captain," started Miller, "with respect, this could become a very…tense situation-especially if there is a Klingon power play going on."
"Don't worry, Mr. Miller" Hobson replied, "I have no intension of starting a war with the Klingons, but we still have a responsibility to at least investigate the claims. Once we get a handle on what is going on, then we can move on from there."
*****
Supplemental
USS Independence docked with Starbase 90
In Orbit of Cestus III
Captain Aurelia, Lieutenant Commander bin Nadal, and Counselor Kimula sh'Somachanar waited at the port side hatch. They heard the gantry contact the hull and begin to pressurize.
“Are we supposed to get a new helm officer?” asked Aurelia. Her jet black hair nearly touched her combadge, “I’m gonna catch hell for getting so close to the spacedock hatch.”
First Officer Karim bin Nadal searched his mind, “Um…yes, actually. But he’s right out of the academy.”
“I’m sure he’ll be a step up from Crewman Orlaka,” commented the Central American captain.
“Oh come on,” said the Andorian counselor, “You were a helm officer once. Surely you’ve had some close calls too.”
A smirk appeared on Sintina’s cappuccino-colored face. “Once when I was on the Hood, Commander Riker yelled at me when I…”
The noise of the heavy hatch opening caused Aurelia to cut of her story. Kimula was visually disappointed. The trio straightened up as the starbase commander came into view.
Rear Admiral Kavig, a stout Tellarite, immediately pointed to Aurelia in an accusatory fashion. “You nearly put a dent in my spacedock!”
The captain was relieved to see a Tellarite in charge of the base. She wouldn’t have to hold back. “Who would notice one more? This place looks like its run by a group of Pakleds.”
“Pakleds?” repeated the admiral.
Aurelia quickly added, “What’s a matter? Can’t come up with a comeback?”
Several heavy puffs came from Kavig. He eventually relented. A large smile emerged, “Well played, Captain!” He opened his arms, “Welcome to Starbase 90!”
She curtsied, “Thank you, sir.”
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “We’ll have to rush your personnel and supply transfer.”
“Why’s that, sir?” asked the blue-skinned Kimula.
“I was getting to that! Give me a chance to breathe!” blasted the admiral. He did so, “As I was saying, The Perseus has requested assistance, so we need to get you in and out.”
“How long do you think it’ll take your crew to do that, sir?” questioned bin Nadal.
Kavig responded with pride, “I can get you ready to go in three hours.” He jested, “Whether you can get your ship out the door after that is debatable.”
Sintina repressed a ‘kiss my ass.’ Resorting to profanity was considered a weak defense. She was beginning to flounder. Soon, Admiral Kavig would claim victory.
Luckily, Kimula came through. She said, “We have good motivation. …To get away from the stench.”
The Tellarite let out a belly laugh and said, “I best not linger…”
“Too late for that, sir,” cut in the counselor.
Karim winced. The game was over, but the Andorian perpetuated it.
The admiral, however, simply didn’t have the time. He commented, “Impressive.” Kavig shook it off, “We have work to do, Captain.” Then, he walked back down the gantry.
“So much for shoreleave,” observed bin Nadal.
The trio headed back into the vessel. Sintina shook her head, “I knew you were blunt, Kim, but damn…”
She grinned, “I like Tellarites.”
END OF CHAPTER 4
Supplemental
USS Perseus, Main Engineering
Patrolling the Federation-Gorn Border
The swirling intermix chamber of the Intrepid class starship glowed various shades of blue as Lieutenant Angela "Treasure" Barrows, enjoying the rare downtime in the area, propped her feet up on a console as she read a technical report while the country tunes of L. Q. "Sonny" Clemonds played in the background.
The double doors of main engineering parted to allow the first officer, Anara Rysyl, to enter. The smooth headed, female Deltan had a stoic look on her face. Quickly spotting Lieutenant Barrows, Anara walked towards her as the well endowed chief engineer took a more professional posture.
"As you were, Treasure." Commander Rysyl said quickly, flashing the engineer a shaky smile.
"Well hey, Commander," the North Star native began in her usual twang, "Can I help ya wit somethin'?"
"Captain Hobson wanted to put together a requisition request to fleet logistics in advance of our stop at Starbase 90," explained the first officer.
Barrows jumped in, "No problem. I'll make up a list of parts and supplies and get it to ya as soon as I can."
Anara curtsied, "Thanks," and began to walk away.
Concerned about her longtime shipmate and friend, Treasure quickly added, "You ok, hon? Usually this time o' day, you're bouncin' off the walls, but now you look like somethin' the cat dragged in."
The Deltan sighed. She wasn't offended by the casual tone in the least. They had been through enough to drop ranks.
"Is it the captain?" guessed the engineer.
She nodded in response and added, "Let's just say, I picked up on an …old feeling when I was talking to him."
"Oh," she replied. Treasure was well aware of Hobson and Rysyl's former relationship and how it had changed following their first mission last year.
Not in the mood to talk about it, Commander Rysyl walked off, "Excuse me, I have to talk to Lieutenant Velen."
The engineer understood; a worried look on her face as the Deltan woman retreated back the way she came, "Sure thing, Commander."
*****
"Captain," T'Pren, the lovely Vulcan female head of tactical, called out. Her long, auburn hair was dresses up in a pony tail. "We're receiving a sub-space message. It has a Klingon signature."
Captain Christopher Hobson, sitting in the captain's chair of his first command, looked towards his tactical chief, "Where is it coming from?" He asked in a cool, detached tone.
"I'm not sure. It's being routed through various relays."
Nodding his head, the captain stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Whoever our friend is…" he speculated, "…he doesn't want anyone else to know that he's placing the call. Alright,
Mr. T'Pren…put it on screen, if you please."
A young, Klingon officer appeared in the visor staring at Hobson, his eyes filled with a mixture of anguish, disgust, revulsion, and…fear. Possibly fear of being found out. The analytical Hobson thought as he regarded the image on his screen.
Standing up Hobson introduced himself, "I'm Captain Christopher Hobson of the Federation ship Perseus. Can we assist you?"
"Captain," said the Klingon in a rushed cadence, "My name is Alexander Rozhenko. I'm an officer on board a KDF ship in the Fu'puk system. There is a desperate situation here. Thousands are dying everyday."
With neither his facial expressions nor mannerisms giving any indication of the suddenly very concerned captain, Hobson stepped forward. "What is happening? Are you under attack? It is a virus?"
Alexander shook his head, "No, no. You don't understand. We are doing the killing."
Turning his head towards his security chief, Hobson raised an eyebrow in an almost Vulcan gesture as the Vulcan woman shrugged her shoulders in a remarkably human manner. Turning his attention back to the main screen, Chris spoke in a level voice, "Perhaps you should explain what is going on, Officer Rozhenko."
*****
An hour later, the senior officers were in the forward facing conference room.
Standing up as the rest of his officer remained seated, Captain Hobson elaborated to his crew. "According to this Alexander Rozhenko, the Klingons arrived there weeks ago. They've been killing and raping indiscriminately ever since."
T'Pren, a v'tosh katur - a Vulcan without logic, added, "I've confirmed his identity. He's the son of Worf…"
"As in Worf…the person who installed Chancellor Martok…Worf?" injected the operations officer, Lieutenant Commander Devon Miller, his eyes widening in astonishment.
"That's right," confirmed the tactical officer testily as she barely restrained herself at the operations officer's interruption.
Junior Lieutenant Yitzhak Shalev leaned in as he brushed back a lock of dark hair, "Why would he ask us for help?"
The first officer fielded the question, "He claims he exhausted his options within the Empire."
"Sir, what does he expect us to do about it?" asked Miller.
Hobson spoke, "He wants us to bring it to the attention of Starfleet Command and the Federation Council, so they can apply political pressure to the Klingons." He walked around the table, "I've contacted Command about the situation and requested instructions. I've also asked additional starships to meet us at the Fu'puk system."
Chuckling at the Klingon designation for the system, Treasure quipped, "Well…at least they didn't call it Fu…"
"Treasure…" Hobson quickly interrupted, "Now, what did I tell you about making fun of the Klingons?"
"That they're too easy a target, sir." The engineer, the smile still on her face as the sound of stifled snickers temporarily filled the room.
"That's right, Lieutenant." Hobson deadpanned with a straight face as he once again addressed his officers. "Are there any other questions?"
"Why do we have to go there, sir?" asked Lieutenant Velen, the Denobulan science officer. "Doesn't this fall under the Prime Directive? After all, the Hacharans didn't issue the distress call. It appears to be an internal Klingon matter."
The captain answered, "A fair question, Mr. Velen. As I see it, we've been given a distress call on behalf of the Hacharans. Fu'puk II is in unclaimed space. We have as much right to be there as the Klingons."
"Captain," started Miller, "with respect, this could become a very…tense situation-especially if there is a Klingon power play going on."
"Don't worry, Mr. Miller" Hobson replied, "I have no intension of starting a war with the Klingons, but we still have a responsibility to at least investigate the claims. Once we get a handle on what is going on, then we can move on from there."
*****
Supplemental
USS Independence docked with Starbase 90
In Orbit of Cestus III
Captain Aurelia, Lieutenant Commander bin Nadal, and Counselor Kimula sh'Somachanar waited at the port side hatch. They heard the gantry contact the hull and begin to pressurize.
“Are we supposed to get a new helm officer?” asked Aurelia. Her jet black hair nearly touched her combadge, “I’m gonna catch hell for getting so close to the spacedock hatch.”
First Officer Karim bin Nadal searched his mind, “Um…yes, actually. But he’s right out of the academy.”
“I’m sure he’ll be a step up from Crewman Orlaka,” commented the Central American captain.
“Oh come on,” said the Andorian counselor, “You were a helm officer once. Surely you’ve had some close calls too.”
A smirk appeared on Sintina’s cappuccino-colored face. “Once when I was on the Hood, Commander Riker yelled at me when I…”
The noise of the heavy hatch opening caused Aurelia to cut of her story. Kimula was visually disappointed. The trio straightened up as the starbase commander came into view.
Rear Admiral Kavig, a stout Tellarite, immediately pointed to Aurelia in an accusatory fashion. “You nearly put a dent in my spacedock!”
The captain was relieved to see a Tellarite in charge of the base. She wouldn’t have to hold back. “Who would notice one more? This place looks like its run by a group of Pakleds.”
“Pakleds?” repeated the admiral.
Aurelia quickly added, “What’s a matter? Can’t come up with a comeback?”
Several heavy puffs came from Kavig. He eventually relented. A large smile emerged, “Well played, Captain!” He opened his arms, “Welcome to Starbase 90!”
She curtsied, “Thank you, sir.”
“Unfortunately,” he continued, “We’ll have to rush your personnel and supply transfer.”
“Why’s that, sir?” asked the blue-skinned Kimula.
“I was getting to that! Give me a chance to breathe!” blasted the admiral. He did so, “As I was saying, The Perseus has requested assistance, so we need to get you in and out.”
“How long do you think it’ll take your crew to do that, sir?” questioned bin Nadal.
Kavig responded with pride, “I can get you ready to go in three hours.” He jested, “Whether you can get your ship out the door after that is debatable.”
Sintina repressed a ‘kiss my ass.’ Resorting to profanity was considered a weak defense. She was beginning to flounder. Soon, Admiral Kavig would claim victory.
Luckily, Kimula came through. She said, “We have good motivation. …To get away from the stench.”
The Tellarite let out a belly laugh and said, “I best not linger…”
“Too late for that, sir,” cut in the counselor.
Karim winced. The game was over, but the Andorian perpetuated it.
The admiral, however, simply didn’t have the time. He commented, “Impressive.” Kavig shook it off, “We have work to do, Captain.” Then, he walked back down the gantry.
“So much for shoreleave,” observed bin Nadal.
The trio headed back into the vessel. Sintina shook her head, “I knew you were blunt, Kim, but damn…”
She grinned, “I like Tellarites.”
END OF CHAPTER 4
I like Tellarites too, and I like your Tellarite Adm. Let's send Sintina over to reason with the Klingons, yeah, right! In my crystal ball I see many things blowing up, people dying and planets being rendered uninhabitable. And when the Klingons get in on it-look out!
I like the idea of Sintina against the Klingons. They think the majority of humans are weak and pathetic, alliance or not. I'm sure Sintina could make a Klingon blush an interesting shade of peuce when she gets mad. And let's not forget, Sintina isn't quite mature enough yet to hold her tongue all the time. I might actually feel sorry for the Klingon who thinks he, or she, can outmatch our temperamental captain.
Heh! Heh!
Like CeJay says Hobson and his crew are relatively untested and it will be interesting to see their take on the situation. Must point out the nice interplay between the characters of this crew. In particular I liked Hobson arching his eyebrow like a Vulcan and T'Pren shrugging her shoulders like a human.
Klingons and the Indy! I doubt there'll be any problems there.
Yeah, Captain Aurelia and diplomacy go together like kittens and plutonium.
A very good segment! Alexander has laid it on the line in a way that won't impress his fellow Klingons. Now Starfleet is sending the Perseus and the Indy to check out the Klingons - I'm sure that will be a happy meeting! 
A very good segment! Alexander has laid it on the line in a way that won't impress his fellow Klingons. Now Starfleet is sending the Perseus and the Indy to check out the Klingons - I'm sure that will be a happy meeting!
That's what I like about Treasure--she calls 'em as she sees 'em!
Hobson and Aurelia working together--Fire meet Ice--should be fun!
Hobson and Aurelia working together--Fire meet Ice--should be fun!
Sorry for the delay, work has taken a lot of my time lately.
CHAPTER 5
Supplemental
IKS Kang, Fleet Commander’s Office
In Orbit of Fu’puk II
The room was red lit and the air was thick.
“I will bring this petaQ before me and have him executed! Son of Worf or not!” blasted General K’Vada.
“No,” commented General Lorath from the screen.
An indignant K’Vada repeated, “No?” He continued, “Your lap dog,” he gestured to Ch’Pogh who stood in the room, “has told me about his signal sent into Federation space. That alone is enough to warrant his removal.”
“General,” began Lorath, “Martok does not deserve leadership. There is an opportunity here to weaken his support. …He didn’t even kill Gowron himself!”
K’Vada spat, “If you want his post, then challenge the Chancellor directly, QuchHab!”
Lorath rose from his chair and glared at the fleet commander. K’Vada had used one of the most heinous insults in the Klingon vocabulary … ‘smooth forehead.’ It was true, Lorath’s family, for an unknown reason, hadn’t recovered from the unspoken affliction. “You forget your place, Commoner,” huffed the governor. “I served the Empire long since before you were born. I have earned my position through bloodshed and sacrifice…and you will show me respect, Sa’K’Vada!”
The younger general stood down. Lorath did indeed have a reputation for being a true Klingon, but in this instance…
Lorath continued ominously and unnecessarily, “My House is powerful, K’Vada. I could break you and your family.”
The threat was not very ‘honorable,’ but the general knew all too well it could be done. He hated Klingons like this. Despite Lorath’s service, too often in the Empire wealthy also meant powerful. Nearly gone were the days when battle prowess earned rank. He and Martok were exceptions. Though, he didn’t like the chancellor. He hated the aristocracy. K’Vada was a good general, so he knew when and how to pick his fights. He relented, “What is it you want from me?”
*****
The door parted to reveal Jonin Faltyne’s first look at the bridge of the Steamrunner class Independence. Flight control was the nearest station. A young, human pink-skin sat there. His hair was a light brown. They made eye contact.
“You must be Lieutenant Faltyne,” he ensign observed. He rose and offered a hand, “I’m the other new guy on the bridge, Bradley Weston.”
The Andorian took the hand, “Good to meet you, Ensign.” He added, “Where’s the captain?”
She’s in her ready room, answered another Andorian. The female had a warm smile, “I’m Kimula sh'Somachanar, Comm. Officer and Counselor.”
“sh’Somachanar?” he repeated. “That’s rather formal, isn’t it?”
“Well,” she explained, “My family is very…traditional.”
Jonin read between the lines. He spoke a bit brasher than he intended, “Traditional or elitist?”
“Well…we…um…” she stammered.
He backpedaled a bit, “I don’t mean to offend, Lieutenant sh’Somachanar…”
“Kimula,” she corrected, “I just go by Lieutenant Kimula around here.”
Faltyne asked, “Why don’t you just use an abridged name, like the rest of the so-called nobility has for hundreds of years?”
Under normal circumstances, Kimula would have taken issue with him, but the topic of discussion took her off guard. Nobility existed on Andoria in name only. Her mother insisted on using the unabridged version. The sh’Somachanar’s were a ‘well off’ family and Kimula grew up in a privileged environment. It was not often she had to deal with the social consequences of her mother’s decision. Finally, Kimula responded, “I guess I could go by ‘Soma.’ I’ve…just never worried about it.”
Jonin suddenly felt guilty. He was not off to a good start. He offered, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t mean to judge.”
She unconvincingly said, “No, that’s fine.” Kimula pointed aft, “Aurelia’s office is the port door.”
The new Andorian security/tactical chief nodded and said meaningfully, “Thank you.”
*****
The enunciator sounded. It was the fifth time in an hour. “New people,” Sintina grumbled. She put down the padd, leaned back and said, “Come in.”
An Andorian wearing gold trim of medium build walked in and announced, “Lieutenant Jonin Faltyne reporting for duty, sir.”
Aurelia rolled her eyes. She hated training new people. “Ma’am.”
“Sorry, sir?”
She raised her voice just a bit, “Refer to me as ‘ma’am.’”
“Oh,” he recovered, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Better.” She picked up another document. “You said your Faltyne?”
He still stood at attention, since she hadn’t yet said differently. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We have something in common. We’ve both lost two ships,” she observed without looking up from the text.
Unsure of how to respond, he stated, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Your former CO’s give you high praise, Lieutenant,” she continued. This time she looked up, “At ease.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She read about his captivity, but consciously didn’t mention it. There was something else, though -- something Donald Sandhurst told her yesterday. She wasn’t as unprepared for the meeting as she appeared. She stated, “You once refused a direct order from Captain Sandhurst of the Gibraltar.”
He was caught unprepared. Commander Ramirez agreed not to report the incident. “How…”
“I have my sources.”
The Andorian nearly reassumed the more ridged position, “Yes, ma’am. But I did eventually comply.”
“Eventually,” she echoed as she got up. “I know Captain Sandhurst. The Gibraltar saved our asses once. He strikes me as a good man and a competent officer. Why would you disobey him?”
“With respect ma’am,” he began, “you weren’t there. My ship was under attack and I wasn’t so willing to let the people who did it to go unpunished.”
She got up closer and said in a command voice, “Lieutenant...” Her tone became softer, “If you show that same loyalty and dedication to this ship, we’ll get along fine.”
A wave of relief flowed over Jonin. A small smile escaped.
Captain Aurelia concluded with, “Take your station, Lieutenant. We’ll be underway in a few minutes.”
He curtsied, “Aye, ma’am.”
*****
Supplemental
USS Perseus, Captain’s Ready Room
In route to Fu’puk II
Captain Christopher Hobson viewed one of his peers via subspace.
Long range scans of the fleet identified it at the Eighth Klingon Task Force. It was lead by General K’Vada, most recently known for his deplorable tactics used against the Cardassian colony of Lakesh.
The possibility of Alexander’s allegations being true jumped up a notch in the captain’s mind.
One Starfleet captain saw K’Vada’s actions firsthand. Captain Sandhurst continued his insight, “In my opinion, there are two types of people in the universe: Klingons… and everyone else."
A very subtle smirk momentary emerged on Hobson’s face.
“K’Vada is a Klingon’s Klingon,” he elaborated, “He wasn’t much for talking or having to explain himself. He’ll respect your actions, not your words.”
Hobson nodded and leaned forward, “So attempting to verbally dissuade him would be futile.”
The slightly graying captain tilted his head, “That’d be a fair assessment, Captain.”
The Perseus captain took a deep breath, “Thank you for your advice, Captain Sandhurst.”
“One more thing,” volunteered Sandhurst, “I once heard a quote from a former ambassador to Qo’NoS. He said, ‘In the end, the only ones who can really handle Klingons…are Klingons.”
Hobson searched his mind, “That’s from Ambassador Dax, as I recall.” He added, “I know what you mean, Captain. But with Commander Worf gone, there are no Klingons serving in the fleet.”
“True,” admitted the Gibraltar commander, “but we have the next best thing.”
END OF CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 5
Supplemental
IKS Kang, Fleet Commander’s Office
In Orbit of Fu’puk II
The room was red lit and the air was thick.
“I will bring this petaQ before me and have him executed! Son of Worf or not!” blasted General K’Vada.
“No,” commented General Lorath from the screen.
An indignant K’Vada repeated, “No?” He continued, “Your lap dog,” he gestured to Ch’Pogh who stood in the room, “has told me about his signal sent into Federation space. That alone is enough to warrant his removal.”
“General,” began Lorath, “Martok does not deserve leadership. There is an opportunity here to weaken his support. …He didn’t even kill Gowron himself!”
K’Vada spat, “If you want his post, then challenge the Chancellor directly, QuchHab!”
Lorath rose from his chair and glared at the fleet commander. K’Vada had used one of the most heinous insults in the Klingon vocabulary … ‘smooth forehead.’ It was true, Lorath’s family, for an unknown reason, hadn’t recovered from the unspoken affliction. “You forget your place, Commoner,” huffed the governor. “I served the Empire long since before you were born. I have earned my position through bloodshed and sacrifice…and you will show me respect, Sa’K’Vada!”
The younger general stood down. Lorath did indeed have a reputation for being a true Klingon, but in this instance…
Lorath continued ominously and unnecessarily, “My House is powerful, K’Vada. I could break you and your family.”
The threat was not very ‘honorable,’ but the general knew all too well it could be done. He hated Klingons like this. Despite Lorath’s service, too often in the Empire wealthy also meant powerful. Nearly gone were the days when battle prowess earned rank. He and Martok were exceptions. Though, he didn’t like the chancellor. He hated the aristocracy. K’Vada was a good general, so he knew when and how to pick his fights. He relented, “What is it you want from me?”
*****
The door parted to reveal Jonin Faltyne’s first look at the bridge of the Steamrunner class Independence. Flight control was the nearest station. A young, human pink-skin sat there. His hair was a light brown. They made eye contact.
“You must be Lieutenant Faltyne,” he ensign observed. He rose and offered a hand, “I’m the other new guy on the bridge, Bradley Weston.”
The Andorian took the hand, “Good to meet you, Ensign.” He added, “Where’s the captain?”
She’s in her ready room, answered another Andorian. The female had a warm smile, “I’m Kimula sh'Somachanar, Comm. Officer and Counselor.”
“sh’Somachanar?” he repeated. “That’s rather formal, isn’t it?”
“Well,” she explained, “My family is very…traditional.”
Jonin read between the lines. He spoke a bit brasher than he intended, “Traditional or elitist?”
“Well…we…um…” she stammered.
He backpedaled a bit, “I don’t mean to offend, Lieutenant sh’Somachanar…”
“Kimula,” she corrected, “I just go by Lieutenant Kimula around here.”
Faltyne asked, “Why don’t you just use an abridged name, like the rest of the so-called nobility has for hundreds of years?”
Under normal circumstances, Kimula would have taken issue with him, but the topic of discussion took her off guard. Nobility existed on Andoria in name only. Her mother insisted on using the unabridged version. The sh’Somachanar’s were a ‘well off’ family and Kimula grew up in a privileged environment. It was not often she had to deal with the social consequences of her mother’s decision. Finally, Kimula responded, “I guess I could go by ‘Soma.’ I’ve…just never worried about it.”
Jonin suddenly felt guilty. He was not off to a good start. He offered, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I didn’t mean to judge.”
She unconvincingly said, “No, that’s fine.” Kimula pointed aft, “Aurelia’s office is the port door.”
The new Andorian security/tactical chief nodded and said meaningfully, “Thank you.”
*****
The enunciator sounded. It was the fifth time in an hour. “New people,” Sintina grumbled. She put down the padd, leaned back and said, “Come in.”
An Andorian wearing gold trim of medium build walked in and announced, “Lieutenant Jonin Faltyne reporting for duty, sir.”
Aurelia rolled her eyes. She hated training new people. “Ma’am.”
“Sorry, sir?”
She raised her voice just a bit, “Refer to me as ‘ma’am.’”
“Oh,” he recovered, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Better.” She picked up another document. “You said your Faltyne?”
He still stood at attention, since she hadn’t yet said differently. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We have something in common. We’ve both lost two ships,” she observed without looking up from the text.
Unsure of how to respond, he stated, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Your former CO’s give you high praise, Lieutenant,” she continued. This time she looked up, “At ease.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
She read about his captivity, but consciously didn’t mention it. There was something else, though -- something Donald Sandhurst told her yesterday. She wasn’t as unprepared for the meeting as she appeared. She stated, “You once refused a direct order from Captain Sandhurst of the Gibraltar.”
He was caught unprepared. Commander Ramirez agreed not to report the incident. “How…”
“I have my sources.”
The Andorian nearly reassumed the more ridged position, “Yes, ma’am. But I did eventually comply.”
“Eventually,” she echoed as she got up. “I know Captain Sandhurst. The Gibraltar saved our asses once. He strikes me as a good man and a competent officer. Why would you disobey him?”
“With respect ma’am,” he began, “you weren’t there. My ship was under attack and I wasn’t so willing to let the people who did it to go unpunished.”
She got up closer and said in a command voice, “Lieutenant...” Her tone became softer, “If you show that same loyalty and dedication to this ship, we’ll get along fine.”
A wave of relief flowed over Jonin. A small smile escaped.
Captain Aurelia concluded with, “Take your station, Lieutenant. We’ll be underway in a few minutes.”
He curtsied, “Aye, ma’am.”
*****
Supplemental
USS Perseus, Captain’s Ready Room
In route to Fu’puk II
Captain Christopher Hobson viewed one of his peers via subspace.
Long range scans of the fleet identified it at the Eighth Klingon Task Force. It was lead by General K’Vada, most recently known for his deplorable tactics used against the Cardassian colony of Lakesh.
The possibility of Alexander’s allegations being true jumped up a notch in the captain’s mind.
One Starfleet captain saw K’Vada’s actions firsthand. Captain Sandhurst continued his insight, “In my opinion, there are two types of people in the universe: Klingons… and everyone else."
A very subtle smirk momentary emerged on Hobson’s face.
“K’Vada is a Klingon’s Klingon,” he elaborated, “He wasn’t much for talking or having to explain himself. He’ll respect your actions, not your words.”
Hobson nodded and leaned forward, “So attempting to verbally dissuade him would be futile.”
The slightly graying captain tilted his head, “That’d be a fair assessment, Captain.”
The Perseus captain took a deep breath, “Thank you for your advice, Captain Sandhurst.”
“One more thing,” volunteered Sandhurst, “I once heard a quote from a former ambassador to Qo’NoS. He said, ‘In the end, the only ones who can really handle Klingons…are Klingons.”
Hobson searched his mind, “That’s from Ambassador Dax, as I recall.” He added, “I know what you mean, Captain. But with Commander Worf gone, there are no Klingons serving in the fleet.”
“True,” admitted the Gibraltar commander, “but we have the next best thing.”
END OF CHAPTER 5
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We do??
Can't wait to read this.
Can't wait to read this.
Hmm, that got me puzzled too. Who is the next bests thing? Looking forward to find out.
Also I like the return of Faltyne. I always liked him and the poor guy has been through hell, here's hoping that his time on the Indy will work out better. Judging from his first run in with Kimula, he's got some work cut out for him.
Also, he ain't the only guy who apparently has some trouble with this whole ma'am/sir thing. If female captains could only make up their minds on how they wanna be addressed.
Also I like the return of Faltyne. I always liked him and the poor guy has been through hell, here's hoping that his time on the Indy will work out better. Judging from his first run in with Kimula, he's got some work cut out for him.
Also, he ain't the only guy who apparently has some trouble with this whole ma'am/sir thing. If female captains could only make up their minds on how they wanna be addressed.
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