"Sit down," Martok grumbled.
Kapact looked around the small office and resisted the urge stand in the face of the Chancellor's tone. It would show more petulance than dignity, and Kapact, who prided himself on being a good soldier, would not show petulance to his Chancellor. "What happened?"
"A Federation robot tug was destroyed by pirates as it passed through Donatu," Martok said.
"So?" Kapact smiled without thinking.
Martok laughed mirthlessly. "What's wrong with you? We are at peace with them. They are our allies. You are not supposed find amusement in their destruction."
"Why are we concerned that an unmanned Federation ship was destroyed by pirates?"
"Tell me, son of Ab'Qaff, about Ha'Toria. Not the system, but the man."
The smile vanished from Kapact's face. "The Emperor Ha'toria. Ha'Toria the Mad, who tried to clone himself with magicians and sorcerers centuries ago so that he could rule the Empire for all eternity."
"Your ancestor." Martok's were a knife thrust. Angry and accusing.
"More than seven generations past. His sins do not weigh on me."
"He cost your line the throne," Martok said.
"Yes, he did. What of it?" Kapact asked angrily.
"Because someone calling himself Ha'toria sent a message to Starbase 27 claiming credit for the kill and threatening more if the Federation does not immediately withdraw from the Donatu sector." Martok was obviously furious and struggling to keep outwardly calm. "In the interests of diplomacy, the Federation has agreed to keep the information quiet on the condition that we eliminate this threat."
"Whoever this veq is, he cannot be Ha'Toria. That petaQ died centuries ago."
"I don't care who he is," Martok answered darkly. "Find him and kill him."
That turned out to be easier said than done. Every lead that he pursued ended either in more questions than answers or dead witnesses. It seemed that the man calling himself Ha'Toria was building an effective wall of secrecy and death around himself that none could penetrate. Then a crack appeared in that wall. Crews were starting to mutiny. Mutinies were not unheard in the Empire, but exceedingly rare. In the days of crewing their vessels with slave races, mutiny was a constant threat, but in these more 'enlightened times' the crews were all loyal Klingons, all volunteer, and the thought of mutiny rare and terrifying. But suddenly there had been five mutinies on front line ships in border regions. And the ships always vanished into the darkness.
Then a manned Federation freighter was attacked by a Vorcha class attack cruiser. The cargo was stolen and the crew slaughtered. Interestingly, the ship was barely damaged. Aside from carefully disabled defensive and propulsion systems, it was intact and set adrift. Scrawled in blood on the bridge's main viewscreen, in the old klinzhai script which had preceded the modern, artful piqad script, the words "Komorex Klinzhai". In the ancient tongue, it translated roughly as "Klingon Empire", but the message was deadlier than that. This was not the Klingon Empire that had forged a strong alliance with the Federation. It was the Klingon Empire that had had been humiliated into a standoff at Donatu V more than century ago.
Kapact wasted little time sending his son and the Empire's newest warship, the Etlh class to find and bring back one of these mutinous crews.
Stepping onto the bridge of the Etlh was a moment that would stay in Sompek's memory for the rest of his life. To be sure, seeing the ship- his ship held within the Kur'ya shipyard was awe-inspiring, and his entry through the dorsal airlock was breathtaking. His first real command. But he had seen the ship in spacedock before. He had even spent time in the engine room and the dorsal torpedo chamber, helping to get systems online. But the bridge module was a different story. For one thing, the original bridge had been destroyed in the battle to take the ship from the Tholians, so this new bridge had not launched into battle. But more importantly, the bridge- this bridge, was his. It belonged to no other. The walls would be painted with the blood of his foes. It's record of battle would be written by him.
Sompek had been on other bridges before, from the utilitarian bridge of the D7 battlecruiser to his father's Ab'Qaff. The Etlh was closer to the classic look of the D7, except that it seemed larger and darker. The command seat was isolated and elevated in the center of the main deck that showed red-tinged light coming up from under a lattice of reinforcing duranium girders. Behind the command deck and slightly elevated, the helm and tactical stations shared a single console, while to the right and left 3-D monitors displayed tactical information. Framing the command deck were four support beams that stretched from floor to ceiling. This was the bridge of a modern fighting ship, and Sompek felt privileged to be in command of it.
He walked around the bridge, examining every station before taking his seat. His female executive officer had followed him and stood to his right as he examined the displays built into the command chair. "Commander Kell, report status of ship."
"All systems ready for flight operations. All Section Heads reporting in. All tactical systems battle-ready."
"Good." He moved towards the viewscreen that dominated the forward bulkhead. "Address intercraft."
"Intercraft is open," she answered immediately.
Sompek looked to each officer on the bridge, at each station. Finally his gaze settled on Kell. She looked young and tense. "Crew of the Etlh," he said. "This ship has already been in battle. It has seen the death of more than a thousand Tholian monsters, and hundreds of our fellow Klingon warriors. Its decks were coated in the blood of enemies and comrades before it was assigned its first mission. Like every sword wielded by our people, it has been forged in elemental fire. And like every Klingon sword, it thirsts for the blood of its enemies."
Then he recalled the words of his ancestor, the Emperor Sompek. "The heart of treason lies safe and secure, within our walls. It has eaten our food, drank our wine and now enjoys the protection of our House. Let it rest, steadily beating in comfort, for with our launch into the night its end draws near." Then he looked straight at Qorek at the helm station. "Set course the N'Qel system. Engage at warp eight." As he narrowed his eyes and turned to face the main viewscreen, he continued speaking to the crew. "Crew, we sail to confront an abomination in the N'Qel system. A mutinous Klingon crew. We sail for blood!"
"Program combat drills against superior Klingon ships and crews," he ordered. Then he turned to Kell. "Come with me, Commander."
The office that led off of the bridge's starboard side was small compared to the Ab'Qaff's massive situation room, consisting of a desk, a few chairs and a computer station. But from the bat'leth mounted on the wall to the single warped and scorched section of deck plating (from the battle with the Tholians) that Sompek had insisted remain, it was his ship, and that made it more impressive. Sompek glanced at both features before he sat behind the desk and gestured for Kell to take a seat. "What do you know about the Komorex Klinzhai?"
Kell grinned, her sharp teeth showing clearly. "That they don't exist. That is what our leadership tells us."
"The idea exists, even if no organized structure does. The idea that the Empire suffers from its association with the Federation. That we are weak, that we are no longer conquerers. That we are no longer strong." He gave her a hard look. "That we are no longer pure."
"Is it true?" Kell asked.
"You could die for openly questioning the Council," he said. Then he sighed. "Of course we are who and what we are because of the alliances we make. But are we weaker?"
"Some would say that the wolf now lies with the sheep." She watched him for his reaction.
"The wolf understands when the sheep can be counted on as an ally. Especially against a common foe." Despite her challenging tone, Sompek felt that Kell would prove to be a loyal ally. "The fact is, we are only as weak as we allow ourselves to be. If we allow our alliance with the Federation to corrupt our culture then we are to blame. But the Federation has proven itself to be largely dependable. Would those calling themselves Komorex Klinzhai sacrifice themselves to save one of our outposts from a Romulan attack?"
"No," she answered. "They would wait until both sides were exhausted from the fight and swoop in to pick up the pieces."
"That is not the strength of a true warrior. It is the fear of a coward."
"Permission to speak freely?" Kell asked stiffly.
"Granted."
"I feared that you were given this command because of who your father is. I thought that this new warship belonged in more experienced hands."
"Really." Under normal circumstances, his hand would be at his d'k tagh, but he was interested in what she had to say.
"Yes. I even anticipated having to kill you before the mission was over." She showed a feral grin.
"At least I know you put the mission first. It would be a shame if we had to kill each other before we reach the traitors."
She smiled back showing a mouthful of teeth. "We are not there yet."
Sompek laughed briefly. "If they are Komorex Klinzhai, we can expect a ship geared more toward attack than defense. Reinforced forward shields, weaker aft shields."
"Fighting ourselves from a hundred years ago," she said.
"Yes. And unlike a typical mutiny, where we could destroy the ship and move along, we have been ordered to disable it, gather intelligence, and attempt to capture its captain alive."
She made a sound that was half snort of derision and half growl. "Prisoners..."
"No," Sompek said. "Just the captain. If the rest are accidentally killed then our mission is still a success."
"Good," she answered.
The Etlh was met by the Komorex Klinzhai two days out of the N'Qel system.
"Report!" Sompek shouted as he picked himself up from the deck. The ship rocked under him again.
"Five cloaked antimatter mines detonated in close formation as our shields impacted them," Kell answered. "The traitors knew we were coming."
"Shields to maximum. Scan ahead." Sompek found himself peering into the large viewscreen, trying to pick out the enemy ship, assuming that it was the Vorcha and dredging up details of the ship. It had, about fifty years ago, been the Empire's flagship, designed as a 'friendly' counter to the Federation's Galaxy Class. It was very well armed, boasting eighteen ship-mounted disruptor cannons, one large forward disruptor, and three torpedo launchers. Its physical profile was even smaller than the Etlh's though not by much. A one-to-one fight, based on no more than tactical capabilities would be very close. "Activate micro-torpedo array. Autotracking tied into tactical computer. Boarding parties stand ready." The Etlh didn't have nineteen disruptor cannons, but it did have a dozen autotracking micro quantum torpedoes, six heavy disruptors mounted on its wings and two quantum torpedo emitters on its nose. Its warp nacelles were fully inset in the hull which not only presented a less obvious target than any other ship that had warp nacelles at the end of pylons of various lengths, but also made for a marginally stronger structural integrity field. It wouldn't decide the battle, Sompek knew, but it might give him an edge.
"Just picking up a shadow at the edge of sensor range," Kell announced. "Readings are being obscured."
"Obscured", Sompek snorted. "Battle alert. Helm, set intercept course. Full impulse. Tactical, want firing solutions as soon as we have sensor resolution. Target tactical and propulsion systems."
The Vorcha appeared quickly, executing a tactical warp jump that dropped it behind the Etlh. Simultaneous disruptor bolts and photon torpedoes bracketed the newer warship. Without pausing, the Vorcha ducked underneath them and fired more disruptors. As the Etlh rocked again, the comm officer spoke. "Captain! General Kapact is on a secure channel for you."
Sompek looked at him angrily. "Advise the general that-"
"He says it can't wait!"
Sompek moved across the lurching bridge to the comm station. "Stand aside, lieutenant." As the officer moved away, Sompek keyed his personal code into the console that opened the channel. His father's face appeared, dark and shaken. Something was very wrong. "Father, I am in battle."
"Your mother is dead."
"What?" Sompek felt his fire go cold, and his blood freeze. He felt alone and angry and confused. "How?"
"She died in her sleep, son. Of natural causes."
"But that is no way to die."
"Sompek, she was human. And to a human, that is a good death. Peaceful, at home, with loved ones."
"What am I supposed to do? Do you want me home?"
"Finish your assignment, my son. Then come home."
Sompek felt empty. He would finish his work, but there was suddenly no joy in it. "Father... how did she die? Was she happy?"
"She died well, my son. By my side. She would have been happy."
"Acknowledged. Sompek out." The ice in his blood suddenly burned. "Lock all tractors on that ship. Hold it in front of us. Target all weapons, including main and micro torpedoes. Prepare boarding parties. I want the captain alive."
Acting in her capacity as chief tactical officer, Kell obeyed without a word. "Tractor locked on. They're fighting it. Trying to repulse with their own beams."
"Overpower them. Channel warp power into the tractor if you have to, but hold them."
The ship lurched and the bridge lights dimmed, but eventually the Vorcha became visible on the main viewscreen as it was dragged into direct firing arc of the Etlh's main weapons. "All weapons locked," Kell said.
"On my order, fire main torpedoes and all disruptors. Then follow immediately with all micro-torpedoes."
"All weapons ready," she answered immediately.
"Fire."
Two torpedoes belched from the Etlh's forward emitter at the same time that its six disruptors flashed. The weapons hit the Vorcha's forward shield at the same time, momentarily overloading it. Then Kell launched the micro-torpedoes. Before the Vorcha's crew could reroute shield energy, the twelve torpedoes struck the forward pod, destroying it in a blinding flash. "Target shield generators!" He yelled. Disruptors flashed again, skimming across the top of the stalled cruiser.
"Shield generator is down," Kell announced. "Boarding parties ready to transport."
"Exe-"
"-cute!" The word came out with a grunt. He was on the deck, grasping his stomach and struggling to understand what had happened. He was not on the Etlh. It was a Klingon ship, and from the furnishings, it looked like captain's quarters. He was obviously on the Vorcha. Then he saw a figure, presumably the enemy captain lunging at him. He was wearing a uniform that harkened back to the old 23rd century Klingon uniforms. Flexible black armor and silver chain mail, with simple black pants. To Kapact it looked anachronistic. Then he saw its head. It was covered with a helmet. The same kind that he had been told about. The helmet that guards of the infamous Emperor Ha'toria had worn. "Coward!" He spat the word. "Is this how traitors fight? From behind masks? Show yourself!"
The captain didn't answer. Instead he lunged at Sompek again, ramming his head into Sompek's stomach. Sompek went down hard, clutching his stomach. He needed a chance to strike back. He needed distance, even just a few feet. He rolled almost instinctively away from his opponent but found himself against a partition in the cabin. He grabbed for his dk'tagh. It would have been sheathed to his right thigh before being transported, but must have been dropped when he went down. Very well. He rose quickly and threw himself at his enemy with his fingers seeking out anything to grab, but the helmet made that almost impossible. With no other option, he started to work his fingers underneath the helmet. That's when the enemy captain rammed a knee into Sompek's groin. Sompek wailed in pain and went down again, curled up in a ball and helpless.
He was just starting to see through the red haze when he felt fingers at his throat. The warrior's masked face was inches from his.
"Sompek!" The name sounded like a curse. "Son of Kapact. Son of privilege. Son of weakness. Son of a pathetic empire." The enemy held his hands steady, keeping Sompek trapped and unable to move, but with just enough oxygen to breath. "Your father refuses to take his own name, instead clinging to the memory of a real warrior who died with honor. He beds aliens. Vulcans. Humans. There is even talk that he is the secret love slave of a Romulan."
Furious and desperate, Sompek began to pry at the fingers wrapped around his throat, while the traitor continued to taunt him. "Your mother. Your human mother, who died the death of a weak slave. Did she nurse you, Sompek? Did she comfort you through your infant tears?"
"How- how can you know that-" Sompek choked out the words.
"But what I really want to know before I kill you," the enemy said. "You are the coward. The traitor. How do you deserve the name of a hero? Who are you, Sompek?"
Sompek's hands abandoned the struggle to free himself, grabbing at the traitor's own dagger. As he closed his eyes, he shoved an elbow under the enemy's chin and lifted it as far as he could. Then he plunged the dagger into the traitor's neck and felt the body go limp on top of him as his blood sprayed out. "I am my father's son."
Three days later, Sompek walked into his father's quarters on the massive Ab'Qaff. He stepped up to the desk and looked his father in the eye. Then he dropped the still-masked, disembodied head of the enemy captain on the desk. "The enemy captain."
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