Hello everyone. I was writing a follow-up to "Conspirata" but got hung up, so I decided to return to flesh out some ideas I had for the Four Years War stories I had written a while back. I hope you all enjoy them.
STAR TREK: FOUR YEARS WAR
YEAR ZERO:
“BLOOD WILL TELL”
A BURNING HOUSE
The Dark Time…
“General,” Mukul yelled as he pushed through the large wooden doors and ran up to the throne. His chest burning, pain and tiredness completing to overtake him, Mukul still managed to get out, “Shenara’s forces have breached our defenses! They are inside the fortress!”
Even the massive closed doors and thick walls of the throne room couldn’t muffle the sounds of combat, the clanging of weapons, the rattling of pistols, spraying projectiles throughout the sacred palace.
K’Trelan looked up slowly as if waking from a dream, a beatific smile on his face. Mukul tried to hide his horror. So much had changed since he had pledged his honor and his house to the general’s dream. Together, they had overthrown the corrupt Emperor Reclaw, and K’Trelan had taken the reins as ruler.
But not as a despot, not at first though. K’Trelan had instituted much needed reforms, to push the Klingon people forward, and that benefited a rising system-wide power. And for once, the Klingon people had a true voice in their government, not merely the men and women of means like Mukul and his ilk.
The idea that his honor was made easier by an accident of birth had never set well with him. And he had been drawn to K’Trelan, a man of low birth, but great vision, one who had earned his general’s rank.
Mukul had always been an outré thinker, and throughout his education and travels, he had gathered likeminded individuals who also knew that the empire needed to change if it was going to continue.
K’Trelan had been reluctant to join them at first. And only after their last great campaign, against the traitorous Lord Drav, completely routing his forces among Tkon ruins in the Archanis sector. It had been there that K’Trelan had made the decision to join the cause, to stop the endless cycle of nobles fighting over the riches of the empire, like vultures clacking over a carcass.
But it was also in the Archanis sector that they found the object K’Trelan clutched in his hands. Mukul frowned. There had been no name for it, the silvery shard found inside a container covered with alien script.
Mukul had come to calling it Fek’lhr’s Fang, named for that great dark guardian of Gre’thor, and his torturing of damned souls. The shard had certainly pierced K’Trelan’s soul and twisted it, turning an honorable man into the thing that hung from the throne before Mukul.
K’Trelan had aged considerably in the decade since he took the throne. His thick, once black hair, flowing down his back like the lava from Kri’stak, had whitened and his face had become etched, not by battles, but by the influence of the fang.
Even now, K’Trelan sat there, smiling, while Mukul told him that Shenara had pierced the gates and was almost about to take Tolar’tu.
“General,” Mukul prodded.
“Emperor no longer is it, Son of Murkan,” K’Trelan finally recognized him, his smile widening before dropping from his face. “And ‘Shenara’? That tohzah is no Shenara!” The monarch raised his voice, his finally gall energizing him. “I slew the real Shenara, just like I did her father!”
“And I was there, with you,” Mukul pointed out, “I believed in you general.” K’Trelan reached out and patted Mukul’s shoulder heavily.
“We fought great battles together Mukul,” he nodded, before his eyes glazed over, and Mukul imagined that the man was awash again in past glories. The throne room’s walls shook, Shenara was near, but K’Trelan was still reminiscing
“Those were good times, K’Trelan declared. “Reclaw was a pujwl’ and his reign was leading the empire to disaster. Honor demanded that he be slain. And a dishonorable figure like he was did not deserve an honorable death. I gave the people a voice in the empire, and for that, I am despised!” He spat. “I thought slaughtering all of Reclaw’s spawn would extinguish the hope of any restoration. I never suspected my enemies would be dishonorable enough to find pretenders for the Second Dynasty!”
“General,” Mukul was insistent. “We can no longer hold our position. This battle is lost!”
“No,” K’Trelan looked away from him and down at the silvery shard he gripped with both hands. “That’s impossible. The songs it sang to me, the dreams it showed me.”
The other man didn’t hide his horror. “That thing…that thing is cursed! It has led us to ruin!”
“No!” K’Trelan snapped at the man. The walls trembled, as explosions bellowed throughout the fortress, as more warriors died, but the emperor didn’t care. The object in his hands is all that matter. “This has been more true to me than my warriors!” He declared, holding the damned shard up to light. “It has shown me things, of a time when our people will spread across the galaxy, joining with others, a great armada defending the galaxy from foes more deadly than the Hur’q even.
Our people in their current state won’t be ready for this challenge, not with the old ways, not with the nobles’ hoarding all of the power. So I have given the power to the people, I have made honor available to all, not just the nobles.”
“If we leave now, we can salvage the dream and maybe replant it, if not on Qo’noS, out there, among the stars!” Mukul pleaded.
“No,” K’Trelan shook his head sadly. “That is not what the shard says. Our people must do this, and if they are unwilling, then they are unworthy of the lives, the duties entrusted to them.”
Mukul took a step back. Now he ignored the growing clamor near the throne room. K’Trelan stood up, holding the shard in both hands, smiling at it as the object lit with an infernal glow.
“This artifact contains not only knowledge, but immense power, a power to build, but also to destroy,” K’Trelan said. “The pretenders cannot be allowed to return us to the dark times of the past!”
“What are you saying?” Mukul demanded.
“That I would rather we all die, that the great dream of Kahless end here, than to continue in a corrupted form,” K’Trelan replied, though he continued gazing at the object, into the artifact. The shard began to pulse as a heart existed within it, a very dark heart.
Trembling, Mukul pulled his mek’leth from behind his back. In his darkest moments, he had imagined taking just this action. The times when the blooms of the reforms K’Trelan had first instituted had been plucked as he become more autocratic, and reclusive, his only advisor being that cursed shard.
Mukul had done his best to cover for him, to hide the truth from the people, about K’Trelan’s falling state, but he had long since admitted it to himself.
Mukul had conspired with his cousin among the royalist faction. He had hoped to buy time, to not only preserve the honor of House Murkan, but also to allow K’Trelan and his loyalists to escape.
But K’Trelan didn’t want to escape. And he no longer wanted to fight. The man wanted to die and he wanted to take the entire planet with him.
Mukul didn’t think about it any longer. He brought the blade down swiftly, slicing into the man’s neck and throat. K’Trelan’s eyes widened slightly and he twitched before he left the world. The object remained clutched in the man’s hands.
Mukul wrinkled his nose, not at the stench of the man’s bowels, but at the thought of touching the fang.
The doors boomed heavily, the wood starting to crack. “K’Trelan!” Shenara’s voice rang out. “End this madness and die with honor!” The woman demanded.
The man, who had taken on Reclaw’s name, was fighting in the Nawlogh system, leaving his ‘daughter’ to slay K’Trelan. The general was to be shown the ultimate dishonor, to be slain by a puq, a mere child who had won no battles.
From the sounds of battles outside though, this Shenara had become blooded by now. Mukul’s blood sung to him to engage the woman in combat. But his first duty remained to the Klingon people.
Reining his disgust, Mukul reached down and seized the artifact. It was surprisingly cool to the touch, as were the tendrils that sprouted in his mind.
Mukul fought against them, as he looked back at the shuddering door. Shenara would make of K’Trelan’s corpse what she would, and if she wished to claim the kill, that was her wont. Mukul would not be here to dispute it. He had to take Fek’lhr’s Fang away from the fortress, off of Qo’noS, and back to the pit from which it found K’Trelan.
Mukul just hoped he was strong enough to resist its call…..
THE END
***********************************************************************
STAR TREK: FOUR YEARS WAR
YEAR ZERO:
“BLOOD WILL TELL”
A BURNING HOUSE
The Dark Time…
“General,” Mukul yelled as he pushed through the large wooden doors and ran up to the throne. His chest burning, pain and tiredness completing to overtake him, Mukul still managed to get out, “Shenara’s forces have breached our defenses! They are inside the fortress!”
Even the massive closed doors and thick walls of the throne room couldn’t muffle the sounds of combat, the clanging of weapons, the rattling of pistols, spraying projectiles throughout the sacred palace.
K’Trelan looked up slowly as if waking from a dream, a beatific smile on his face. Mukul tried to hide his horror. So much had changed since he had pledged his honor and his house to the general’s dream. Together, they had overthrown the corrupt Emperor Reclaw, and K’Trelan had taken the reins as ruler.
But not as a despot, not at first though. K’Trelan had instituted much needed reforms, to push the Klingon people forward, and that benefited a rising system-wide power. And for once, the Klingon people had a true voice in their government, not merely the men and women of means like Mukul and his ilk.
The idea that his honor was made easier by an accident of birth had never set well with him. And he had been drawn to K’Trelan, a man of low birth, but great vision, one who had earned his general’s rank.
Mukul had always been an outré thinker, and throughout his education and travels, he had gathered likeminded individuals who also knew that the empire needed to change if it was going to continue.
K’Trelan had been reluctant to join them at first. And only after their last great campaign, against the traitorous Lord Drav, completely routing his forces among Tkon ruins in the Archanis sector. It had been there that K’Trelan had made the decision to join the cause, to stop the endless cycle of nobles fighting over the riches of the empire, like vultures clacking over a carcass.
But it was also in the Archanis sector that they found the object K’Trelan clutched in his hands. Mukul frowned. There had been no name for it, the silvery shard found inside a container covered with alien script.
Mukul had come to calling it Fek’lhr’s Fang, named for that great dark guardian of Gre’thor, and his torturing of damned souls. The shard had certainly pierced K’Trelan’s soul and twisted it, turning an honorable man into the thing that hung from the throne before Mukul.
K’Trelan had aged considerably in the decade since he took the throne. His thick, once black hair, flowing down his back like the lava from Kri’stak, had whitened and his face had become etched, not by battles, but by the influence of the fang.
Even now, K’Trelan sat there, smiling, while Mukul told him that Shenara had pierced the gates and was almost about to take Tolar’tu.
“General,” Mukul prodded.
“Emperor no longer is it, Son of Murkan,” K’Trelan finally recognized him, his smile widening before dropping from his face. “And ‘Shenara’? That tohzah is no Shenara!” The monarch raised his voice, his finally gall energizing him. “I slew the real Shenara, just like I did her father!”
“And I was there, with you,” Mukul pointed out, “I believed in you general.” K’Trelan reached out and patted Mukul’s shoulder heavily.
“We fought great battles together Mukul,” he nodded, before his eyes glazed over, and Mukul imagined that the man was awash again in past glories. The throne room’s walls shook, Shenara was near, but K’Trelan was still reminiscing
“Those were good times, K’Trelan declared. “Reclaw was a pujwl’ and his reign was leading the empire to disaster. Honor demanded that he be slain. And a dishonorable figure like he was did not deserve an honorable death. I gave the people a voice in the empire, and for that, I am despised!” He spat. “I thought slaughtering all of Reclaw’s spawn would extinguish the hope of any restoration. I never suspected my enemies would be dishonorable enough to find pretenders for the Second Dynasty!”
“General,” Mukul was insistent. “We can no longer hold our position. This battle is lost!”
“No,” K’Trelan looked away from him and down at the silvery shard he gripped with both hands. “That’s impossible. The songs it sang to me, the dreams it showed me.”
The other man didn’t hide his horror. “That thing…that thing is cursed! It has led us to ruin!”
“No!” K’Trelan snapped at the man. The walls trembled, as explosions bellowed throughout the fortress, as more warriors died, but the emperor didn’t care. The object in his hands is all that matter. “This has been more true to me than my warriors!” He declared, holding the damned shard up to light. “It has shown me things, of a time when our people will spread across the galaxy, joining with others, a great armada defending the galaxy from foes more deadly than the Hur’q even.
Our people in their current state won’t be ready for this challenge, not with the old ways, not with the nobles’ hoarding all of the power. So I have given the power to the people, I have made honor available to all, not just the nobles.”
“If we leave now, we can salvage the dream and maybe replant it, if not on Qo’noS, out there, among the stars!” Mukul pleaded.
“No,” K’Trelan shook his head sadly. “That is not what the shard says. Our people must do this, and if they are unwilling, then they are unworthy of the lives, the duties entrusted to them.”
Mukul took a step back. Now he ignored the growing clamor near the throne room. K’Trelan stood up, holding the shard in both hands, smiling at it as the object lit with an infernal glow.
“This artifact contains not only knowledge, but immense power, a power to build, but also to destroy,” K’Trelan said. “The pretenders cannot be allowed to return us to the dark times of the past!”
“What are you saying?” Mukul demanded.
“That I would rather we all die, that the great dream of Kahless end here, than to continue in a corrupted form,” K’Trelan replied, though he continued gazing at the object, into the artifact. The shard began to pulse as a heart existed within it, a very dark heart.
Trembling, Mukul pulled his mek’leth from behind his back. In his darkest moments, he had imagined taking just this action. The times when the blooms of the reforms K’Trelan had first instituted had been plucked as he become more autocratic, and reclusive, his only advisor being that cursed shard.
Mukul had done his best to cover for him, to hide the truth from the people, about K’Trelan’s falling state, but he had long since admitted it to himself.
Mukul had conspired with his cousin among the royalist faction. He had hoped to buy time, to not only preserve the honor of House Murkan, but also to allow K’Trelan and his loyalists to escape.
But K’Trelan didn’t want to escape. And he no longer wanted to fight. The man wanted to die and he wanted to take the entire planet with him.
Mukul didn’t think about it any longer. He brought the blade down swiftly, slicing into the man’s neck and throat. K’Trelan’s eyes widened slightly and he twitched before he left the world. The object remained clutched in the man’s hands.
Mukul wrinkled his nose, not at the stench of the man’s bowels, but at the thought of touching the fang.
The doors boomed heavily, the wood starting to crack. “K’Trelan!” Shenara’s voice rang out. “End this madness and die with honor!” The woman demanded.
The man, who had taken on Reclaw’s name, was fighting in the Nawlogh system, leaving his ‘daughter’ to slay K’Trelan. The general was to be shown the ultimate dishonor, to be slain by a puq, a mere child who had won no battles.
From the sounds of battles outside though, this Shenara had become blooded by now. Mukul’s blood sung to him to engage the woman in combat. But his first duty remained to the Klingon people.
Reining his disgust, Mukul reached down and seized the artifact. It was surprisingly cool to the touch, as were the tendrils that sprouted in his mind.
Mukul fought against them, as he looked back at the shuddering door. Shenara would make of K’Trelan’s corpse what she would, and if she wished to claim the kill, that was her wont. Mukul would not be here to dispute it. He had to take Fek’lhr’s Fang away from the fortress, off of Qo’noS, and back to the pit from which it found K’Trelan.
Mukul just hoped he was strong enough to resist its call…..
THE END
***********************************************************************