June Writing Challenge BROKEN GLASSES

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Author's note: It's been a long night, I don't know If my story is disqualified or not! For either being four minutes late, or laced with openoffice junk. I saw this competition yesterday, and started my short story today, and finished, maybe 23.47 Central time. Round about that time, I went through my own little dilemma as my mouse-pad on my keyboard went wonky. (Right-click function replaced the sole left-click function) I had to rely solely on the tab function on the keyboard. Despite these incredible mistimed setbacks, and the junk that came with the paste- which, perhaps to my error, I choose not to remove due to the lateness- and my possible disqualification. I hope you enjoy the story. I chose to see the Federation from a Klingon perspective. When i was choosing on this challenge, I was choosing between a Dominion occupation, A Janeway run in with a group of 22nd century terran imperialists or a Shinzon disillusionment story. I went mad and decided to write this instead. Enjoy. EDIT: Can a monitor possibly remove the format quotes? I'm not that great with computers and it never hurts to ask. EDIT: Fixed.

N'm'pec ran his fingertips over the blade. It has been in his family for ten generations. It had impaled Romulan usurpers on Kolso Two.

N'm'pec have you considered our offer?

Tasted the powerful, unforgiving conditions of a nebula, on the hull of Starship, impaling Kelvins from another dimension. It has been used to behead a Federation captain, after he had captured a Federation away-team; he remembered the human trickery falling down, and the "Federation" could do nothing, but to stop the planet becoming a victim of the Klingon Empire.


We can restore the glory of the Klingon Empire together.


It was last used at a competition, thirty years ago, by himself, which he lost.


I can't, it's too much of a risk, I could be killed... I have to see my son.. N'm'pec out.


He pulled the Bat'leth into him, but his gut stopped the move and it fell to the ground clumsily. The Klingon master heard the whoosh of the door in the other room, as the Bat'leth toppled on the floor. He looked down to retrieve it as quickly as he could, as he heard the ceaseless talking enter the door.


He struggled to bend down and pick it up. His Klingon lungs contracted and his predatory eyes widened as he gazed at the despicable sign of the Federation, on a PADD under some papers. He squeezed his wrist together. The talking grew closer as he kicked the blade under the table.


"What are you doing here, father?"


N'mpec's son stared at him, before looking above him and widening his eyes, seeing the Bat'leth missing from the holster.


"Son, how was the Bat'leth tournament" His son swallowed, pressing his arms together


"I did.. I did very well..." The Klingon boy stood at attention. "I was fir... third."


"Very good!" N'm'pec laughed forcefully and smiled through clenched, sharped teeth; a balled fist hitting his son in the back very hard. Stamping to his son's side, and squeezing his shoulder and pushing him down. "I'm very, very proud of you... my son, the warrior! Better than I expected! Tell me, tell me, some of the moves you used to perform this surprising feat!"


"Uhh, The Chot' La'chor..."


"The Chot La'chor! You'd be the first in the family to perform such a move... Nor my grandfather's great freedom in the vacuum of space against the Kelvins, nor when my ancestor's controlled the Klingon Empire, has a move like that, been performed!" N'm'pec growled, his large gut rumbled, walking his son over to the table. "It.. is... a very famous move."


"Father..."


"What is it, son? Tell me, you didn't not attend the tournament... you didn't disappoint me!" N'm'pec put his foot under the table and kicked out the Bat'leth. His son's eyes widened with relief, but fear.


"It is you, which disappoint him, N'm'pec!" N'm'pec watched as his wife came through the archway; her dark brown locks flowing over what appeared to be armour, as her arms bent, lifting several cases. His wife growling in anger at him. "You are fat, worthless and impotent... it's why, I left you... I am surprised that you managed to drag your fat self from the blood hall and break into our quarters, and then I remembered, you have been putting all your worth in our son, like a weak old woman..."


"Son, your mother is carrying heavy boxes! It's enough she goes out, doing her... science." N'm'pec stumbled over to one of the boxes, lifting it out of her hands, before it falls open, creating a stream of junk across the floor, small glass implements fall and smashing across the ground.


"That was an entire years' worth of grant money!" His mother shouted. "Partook, help me, see if you can salvage something... N'm'pec step back, before I impale you with a broken tricorder..." N'm'pec stepped against the wall: feeling useless, staring as the two picked up what remained from the broken suitcase. He felt guilty, breathing hard, as he caught the dismissive stares from his ex-wife and son. He looked over to the table and marched over there, grabbing the PADD. Holding the Federation symbol to each of them.


"Gril'ka... you may think little of me, but what of your son: so introverted, that he sits in the dark reading Federation words, letting himself become corrupt and manipulative like them, while the Klingon world around him collapses" N'm'pec smiled in success, before Gril'ka retorted.

"You stupid man." She leapt out and grabbed the PADD. "He does not read this in the dark. The only person in the dark is you: drinking your life away, singing about your own believed importances, with equally unimportant men strangled by their empty titles and obselete traditions. The Federation is offering Partook, a chance, you can never give him. He could have a life, you can never give him."


"The Federation? What?"


"They are considering letting me into the Science Academy on Lycos Five.. You have to be a citizen of the Federation, but they may make a special admission for me... aren't you finally proud of me, father? Mother said our family can finally lift itself from the past."


N'm'pec stared in darkness and said plainly "They stole our Empire from us, I won't let them take my son!" Partook dropped his smile, as Gril'ka held him defensively.


"You are drunk!"


N'm'pec, desperate, grabbed onto his son's shoulders tightly. "Son, you must not go! The Federation took our Empire from us.
Remember the stories of the Hur'q, how they came with friendliness and wishes of abundance, and they gave it to us and we became weak; the Empire is heading in that direction now. If it will wain and fall, I don't want my son be the tip of... Consider gods with smiling faces." N'm'pec felt his arms being grabbed suddenly, he looked around, the faces of two Klingon men held onto him. "Get off me."


"Get him out of here..." Gril'ka declared.


"Get off me, I'm the head of the house of N'm'pec!" Gril'ka smiled sweetly, mouthing 'Thank you' to the men, as they too flashed toothy grins as the man's fat legs dragged across the floor and he toppled in the hallway, as the men attempted to throw him. N'm'pec heard the door behind him swoosh closed. N'm'pec stood up eventually, tapping his communicator and swallowing. "Duras, I've considered your offer.. I'll meet you when it's dark."


N'm'pec had a long meeting with the Captain of the space station. He had watched as he nodded and nodded, as they had sipped their Raktajino together. N'm'pec wanted to meet this new Captain, he had heard stories about how his Bird of Prey had gone toe to toe with Romulan warships and emerged unscathed: how he tractored Romulan hulks to combat bases along the borders, only for inspection teams to find Romulan crews decapitated or mutilated. The murmurings of his crew had suggested the Captain did it himself. Whatever N'm'pec had heard, he knew the man sitting opposite him, was a man with passion in his heart, so knew he was staring across at a man pitying him. The meeting was to be originally be three hours, but N'm'pec could no longer off any more suggestions passed two, knew he was trying to blood a rock. Obviously, despite this man being a hero; he came from a family of relative poverty and had taken this job to fund his family. The job involving listening to this himself. When the Captain lifted himself up, N'm'pec said to himself "I won't be an old fool any longer!"


Two Klingon boys watched the yellow sun, descend over the mountains, as N'mpec's large form snuck past them in the darkness. Knocking over a vase, the two boy's turned their heads, but he slipped deeper into the shadows. The smell of Kho'tri, a Klingon drug filled his nostrils as he stepped into the smoke filled room. The walls were lit by a harsh brightness above them, brighter and more directed than Narendra's sun, onto the table below. He saw a trio of Klingon's hand, tossing tokens into the centre, betting with gold, latinum, and other valuable pieces of ore. "Duras?" N'm'pec called out, scanning the dark sides of the room, before one individual at the table leaned forward.


"Take a seat, N'm'pec" He had never met him before and he was a young man and beside him sat the tactical officer of the Station above. N'm'pec considered him very odd, as part of this instance, he sat alone and was intensely logical. He had a son here and remembered the tactical officer teach his son a lesson by gutting his Targ in front of him. "I trust you know, Karloff... He is the tactical officer here" He lent barely forward, and forced a small wave from his fingertips as N'm'pec took a seat.


"Duras, I'm ready to consider your offer..."


"I don't think you have any option my friend... I think you have to bet, or you will no longer be any in the game..."


"How dare you..I'm an important man in the Klingon Empire."


"Is that so..." Dur's hand, shot out a hexagonal card to every part of the table, except N'mpec's part. "Is that why your wife is laying in bed with every Patch's since she came here..." N'm'pec almost leaned forward, before Kacoffo lay a pair of broken glasses onto the table.


"I bet this." Kacoffo declared. "My grandfather himself took these as a prize from fighting Captain Kirk. Unfortunately the Patch's broke them." The man declared to a man beside him, as Duras continued to talk to N'm'pec


"Your wife used to be inferior to you..." Duras grabbed the pair and threw it onto the pile at the centre of the table. "You used to have respect in an Empire that expanded to survive, then to keep yourself in the halls of power, your through your hat in with a religion that thrived in weakness; a morality based on honour, rather one based on power and strength. Like the Empire, your family pulled itself apart... I'm giving you a chance for your son to not become as weak as you..."


N'm'pec leaned down and fidgeted with a chip, staring at the small disk, afraid to meet the eyes of Duras in front of him.


"Honour is the morality of a failing power," One Klingon leant forward, a raspy voice as he twirled a Kho'tri stick in mid-air, the intoxicating fumes filled the air. "Without the Federation, we would have no need to justify our inferiority!" He nearly slammed his hand on the green table, before Duras flashed his beady eyes at him, he let out a growl and leant back, the smoking Kho'tri stick, if not obscured by the black smoke lit by the lamp above.


"N'm'pec.. The Federation have grown weak and complacent." Kacoffo leant forward, his face emotionless, but he swayed his palm calmly, almost mockingly. "While all over the Empire, the people have grown resentful of the Great Houses. They are motivated, just needing something to unite them."


"...but for any Emperor to ascend the thrown" Duras threw his cards to the centre."but for an Emperor to ascend to the thrown. It needs to be supported by one of the old houses... that much is certain."


The raspy Klingon placed some cards into N'mpec's hands, he stared at straight set of hexagonal cards. "What do I get from this?" He asked.


"Respect" Duras declared. N'mpec's hands fell, the cards falling onto the table. There was a united laugh round the table, as the pile at the centre was pushed in front of him. The broken glass of the glasses glowing at the centre. "And you will get more than that. You can be Chancellor in this new Empire. We are planning to move, soon the Klingon people will be united again."


"The Federation has pushed us here. They are convinced we are weak. They are convinced they have made us fat. That we are doomed to suckle their teat. Whatever Klingon morality we hold to our hearts: Strength, Honour. They are without neither! They seek to fill us, so we cannot get up. But the Klingons are angry, and soon as they have an enemy, and a great man to lead them, they will be destroyed!" The raspy man declared, nodding to Duras, who in turn nodded.


"We can beat them?" N'm'pec asked under his breath.


"We have been disunited so long" The tactical officer declared from the dark "But the entire population of Klingons alone, is double that of the whole Federation.. there is Klingon words further away from us, twice the length that Starfleet has ever traveled.. We will be a formidable force" Kacoffo declared.


"Think about the Empire" Duras leaned in. "Think about your son."


N'm'pec breathed in. "I will support you"


N'm'pec was told to get on a transport the next morning leaving at at specific time. With his son, he would head to the Empire, while Duras would move. N'm'pec did not know the specifics of the plan, but that something will happen in the morning, prompting N'm'pec to move. Duras left in the early hours of the morning, so N'm'pec could not consult the man. He decided to head to the station in orbit. He knew his son was there, presumably studying something, he didn't disturb him, feeling some compulsion not to see him, despite what an important man he was.


He slumped on a lone platform, he could not help but open a bottle of bloodwine and have one to himself, while he dreamed about the man he could be tomorrow A shudder, and the sun beams filled the small corridor, for a second before being blacked out and N'm'pec was thrown to the ground. Struggling to get up a greater shudder as two Klingons in uniform ran past him shouting: He had fallen asleep and it was now morning, he tapped on his communicator. "N'm'pec to Jotal, have you head out yet."


"We are prepping for evacuation! You and your son have a seat on this transport, we are leaving in ten minutes"


"I.. I don't have my son with me"

 

[_r_]

"I suggest you get him, N'm'pec, The station is under attack by a Romulan warbird: once we are prepped we are leaving."


N'm'pec dropped the bloodwine, as he blurted through his hungover state... "Romulus! Computer, location of Partook"


"Partookis in science lab one."


N'm'pec stumbled through the station, not helped as it rocked from side to side. He stumbled upon his son's lab. The fat Klingon man, had just enough time to grab his son and head to the transport. He tapped a couple of buttons on the panel calmly. No reply. He banged his hand on it. "Son! Son!" The door opened suddenly, his son two inches from him, his hand on the panel. He quickly removed and pushed past him. "Where are you going, Partook, we have to get going!" He grabbed his son arm, but the smaller Klingon just shook him off.


"Mother is in trouble!"


"We have to leave!" N'm'pec finally caught up with Partook, they stood over the planet below, at the centre of the platform was the orbital elevator. A huge metal beam that extended hundreds of miles from the station down to the blue sphere down below. P'tok's consoles returned aggressive beeps, as he frustratingly followed the same pattern of buttons. N'm'pec hesitantly reached for his communicator "Transport, can you wait..."


"Negative, N'm'pec, you have my sympathies, Jotal out..." N'm'pec watched as the blue sphere down below disappeared, the growl of the transport managed to pass the small inches of space it left between itself and the station, passing the forcefield, echoing in N'mpec's quivering ears. Partook however smiled, as he heard the sound of Gril'kas voice. The two communicated, before the tall beam below was set aflame, burning in mid-atmosphere as another disruptor blast pierced the fragile beam, and it started to tip, descending into the atmosphere. The sound of Gril'ka's voice became more and more inaudible as N'm'pec tipped his bottle of bloodwine over: the last few drips hitting the forcefield. N'm'pec watched as the Romulan warbird swooped under him; He speculated to it's size, as it stood lit, despite apparently sitting under the shadow of the space station, he then saw another. He breathed in and dropped his bottle looked over to his son Partook crying and he finally decided to stand up.


"Come on, Partook see if the bridge is still standing... Perhaps we can both die like Klingons"


N'm'pec walked onto the bridge, which stood standing. He was surprised. Kacoffo stood at tactical control not bothering to acknowledge him, before the Captain approached him unhinged. "Stay out of the way, N'm'pec.. The Romulan hit our sensors, we can only see the warbird from our windows."


"I saw two Romulan warbirds"


"Then I guess we are truly blind" claimed Kacoffo.


"Is communications online" The Captain asked.


"Affirmative."


"Call the Klingon battle fleet."


"I'm picking their receiver signal on subspace..."


"Tell them we are under attack by one or more Romulan warbirds!"


"I have, Sir" An officer says, stabbing his fingertip into his console over again, as a couple of officers stare out the window. Not displaying any emotion, but their fast moving eyes, looking for any disturbance in space, displaying a disturbance inside the Klingon Heart: one of fear. "They are just not responding." The Captain looked down, putting his hands by his sides. He looked around his crew, then casting an eye toward N'm'pec and his son before dismissing him, walking to the centre.


"I hope for all our sakes, whether we are honourable, or displayed incredible strength and bravery... we are all Klingon enough, to pass into Stovokor!" The Klingon Captain turned and saw a green bird fold out of space, it's blurry sides becoming sharp and clear, getting larger and larger as some Klingons fretted and Partook grabbed onto his father.


"Captain! I think it's a Federation starship." The Captain looked over to another Klingon, peering out of a porthole grabbing onto the sides and leaning into it, peering around the window, trying to confirm what he saw. However, the Captain squinted as a bright light flashed in front of him. The Captain put his hands in front of his eyes, as red photon torpedo, after another, flew into the hull of the Romulan warbird, followed by repeated phaser fire, as it's green bulk started to slow and burn. The bird floated through space, but as it died, it shot disruptor fire into space, it's own photon torpedo firing. But the Starfleet ship struck again, this time, it's green disruptor burned into a fire, and the Warbird started to burn rapidly, it's insides imploding. The Klingons stepped closer to the large window as the large Federation starship came into view flying past the Klingon crew. Some stepping back in surprise. Her massive form, replaced by more torpedo fire as she sent the Warbird to her doom.


"Klingon outpost, this is the Federation Starship, Enterprise... we are here to offer you assistance."


"Seems the Federation may have honour after all" The Captain declares, while N'm'pec stares in shock, stepping forward away from his son, and stares at the Federation starship. "Can we message them back? Are the sensors back online?"


"No, Sir. "claims Kacoffo. The Klingon crew, reduced to just spectators as they watch from their small window. A group of Klingons press against the window.


"I can't see anything" claims one. A small group notices a porthole, and they rush up to it, all pushing each other out of the way as the Captain scrutinizes them.


"One at a time" The Captain growls."Ho'tak! Tell me what is going on."


"Three more warbirds have uncloaked. The Enterprise is firing in all directions: These Federation gunners cannot hit a thing... Their disruptors have brought down their shields." The Captain's attention was grabbed, as the warbird which burned in space in front of them, started to burn ever more wildly, acting too unnatural for any starship as it started to expand and contract: it's hull starting to crackle, under it's own torment, parts floating away under the inertia of space, as it expanded fully, before contracting to a greater extended, disappear into a small, featureless blackness. A rogue Starfleet photon torpedo flew in it's path, turning the small blackness, into a glowing rip in space. "The Warbirds have hit the Enterprise's nacelles. She's burning, yet still going... she's turning." Finally, the Enterprise came into view on the main view: green bolts and torpedos flying into her intermittently, a cracked nacelle leaking plasma behind it, as it limped toward the station. A warbird finally decloaking behind it.


"What is that blue thing?"


"Without sensors, Sir... I have no idea." The Enterprise hurtled toward the station. Nearly every Klingon covering his face, as the Starfleet ship seemed to have lost control and was on a direct collision course of the station, but the shadow had left the bridge and the Federation Starship had completely disappeared from the view, nothing, but, the large discreet form of the Warbird, predatory and fast coming toward the station. An officer declared. "Seems the Federation have no honour after all." The Klingon captain dipped his head down toward the ground, resigned, as the Romulan warship made her final run.


"Look, there she is!" Impossibly, the Enterprise emerged, with her back to the crew and directly in front of the Romulan cruiser. A flurry of torpedos and phasers emerged from her hull; hitting the Romulan in the front, breaking the large, but fragile starship. The Enterprise kept firing, as the green bird broke gradually apart, before the broken hull impacted on the Enterprise's shields, flying off in opposite directions. The Captain sat up in his chair. "How can this be? Do the Federation have some kind of cloak?"


"It appears to be.." As Kacoffo stepped back from his controls.


"Appears, the Federation isn't as weak and as complacent as it appears to be" N'm'pec declared, Kacoffo looking down.


"Whatever, the case, we won't stand too much longer in this battle." It was one of many comments said on the bridge, but N'm'pec seemed to hear it above else: He looked at his son, enthralled by a battle, like he'd once seen him at a younger age. Though he knew his son wasn't anywhere near as safe. He stopped and reconsidered his actions until now and realized he had only now, but one objective; he grabbed his son by the back, as the speculation in the bridge continued, like the boatload on the river to Stovokor. N'm'pec had other ideas, telling his son, to be quiet, he took his sons into the halls, where the stations seemed to shudder more, as N'm'pec speculated, that stray torpedos were exploding all around them.


"Son, we have to get off this station, before one of those torpedos hit the station..." They ducked into a room; Partook slightly struggling, anxious to know what's going on and N'm'pec determined to get his son to safety. He pushed his son onto the transporter padd, as N'm'pec considered the only place for escape... "How can the planet be out of range?" N'm'pec growled as he breathed deeply and inputed a new set of coordinates as the outpost shuddered once more and the large form of the Klingon dashed onto the pad, as the golden sparkles enveloped the father and son.


"Phasers have been disabled, photon torpedos have been exhausted, we have hull breaches on all decks. The computer says the shields are up, yet their torpedo seem to hit their target without much trouble..."


N'm'pec and Partook beamed onto the alien bridge. Fumes and smoke where everywhere, yet there was a certain uniform pristine to it all despite the chaos. "Prepare to set a ramming course" Declared a voice at the centre of the room. Suddenly, he flinched, turning round, suddenly, hand weapon withdraw from the holster on his red uniform. He looked like he did not know what to say. The whole crew was looking at them, al of them, seemed not to know what to say. Another, in a different uniform: black and gold merely declared:

"Ramming course set, Captain." The father looked up to see the silhouette of a Romulan warbird getting closer and closer. Her blasts seeming to hurtle past, and some hitting as the ship shuddered. "I'm reading more transporter signals." Suddenly green lights stood apart from the otherwise mildly colored bridge, before fading: The forms of Romulus standing at strategic areas of the bridge. Suddenly green bursts coming from their disruptors: vaporising some, stunning others. The Captain was burned to his shadow in the chair. While the blond officer in the black and gold, slumped to the ground from her hit. The Romulan scrutinized her, while another played with the helm controls. Another appeared in front of them. N'm'pec stepped in front of his son and raised his arms.


The two were beamed yet again. The cargo hold of what was presumably the gut of a Warbird. Surviving starfleet officers were hoarded around by armed Romulans, N'm'pec looked around, as stunned or dead Starfleet officers were carried by Romulans, and at the centre, stood two officers... and Duras. Partook didn't recognize him and N'm'pec stood confused. Duras was in league with the Romulans: He felt betrayed, gutted like that Starfleet ship, but another contrary feeling, was he assumed safety for his son, once Duras told them who he was.


"This Klingon, is he important" One smug Romulan asked, seeming to ignore N'm'pec while he stood in front of him. Duras on the other hand was visibly flustered.


"No, of course, not" Duras looked at him once. "And a large security risk. Kill him!" The Romulan withdrew from his holster, about to fire. N'm'pec once again stepped in front of his son. Hoping that as his ashes would descend to Stovokor, or further, that the Romulan's conscience may intervene and spare the young man.


"Stop!" A Romulan stamped into the cargo hole. The Starfleet prisoners now starting to crowd the cargo bay, curious listeners as the Romulan officer, older than the others walked up to the group. "This man is the head of the house of N'm'pec"


One Romulan protested. "Why are you looking at me, Tal'Shiar, like I care what home this man eats in."


"You fool" The Tal'Shiar officer grabbed his disrupter away. "If we kill this man, then it will prompt a large enough investigation into our involvement."


"And his continued existence won't inform them?"


"The man is thought a fool in the whole of Klingonity." The Romulan declared. "A reactor implosion is more believable than the warmongering of some impotent blood-wino house leader... Let him go."


"But Duras?"


"Duras continues to show the consistent character of self-interest and clumsy impulsiveness: it is why he is our puppet" Dura looked visibly furious at the statement, but as the Romulan said, unable to do anything."You two." The Romulan walked in front of them "Will return to the Klingon Empire. I've always been fascinated by two people who have seen something so real, but have been effectively silenced by their own practice. I believe there is a human nursery rhyme, or is it Vulcan.. Well, i'm afraid, you are not staying for the interrogations, so you won't find out... Sub-Commander, rendezvous with a non-aligned transport and send these two back to Qo'nos."


"Father, what will you do now?" P'tok raised his first question on the journey, possibly wanting to drag his eyes away from the darkness beneath him.


"I will do nothing. However, i've been thinking you will do something... " N'mpec reached into his coat, slowly, perhaps hesitantly pulling out the PADD. The Federation symbol on it, obscured by dirt, but still standing there. "Go to the academy, P''tok. and take these..." N'mpec drew out the broken glasses he won earlier.


"I don't think I have anything real left." N'm'pec held out the glasses. "Take these to remember me."

 

[Count Zero]

You'll have to post a link to it in the June challenge thread or it won't count! And you can still edit out the OOo fragments (funnily I've never had this problem when copying my work from OOo to here).

 

[Mistral]

Good story. A little polish could elevate it to great.

 

[Starkers]

Definitely needs some polish but a very good story.