Tales from the Captain's Table Page 12

  Skeptically, the Romulan said, “Little difficulty? You were children.”

  “Yes, Commander, we were. And my boast proved accurate only if one considers dozens of broken bones, several blows to our heads, the tip of one of my brother’s fingers sliced off, and half of my own hair ripped out to be ‘little difficulty.’

  “But the klongat fell. It beat us, it clawed us, it blocked our blades, but it did fall.”

  “How?” In contrast to the Romulan, the Telspong was so rapt, he dry-sipped from his empty cup and didn’t notice. Cap discreetly prepared another Saurian brandy for him.

  “Only when we unleashed our bat’leths did we wound the creature. At first, we stalked it, myself in front, Dorrek behind it. Dorrek swiped at it with his blade, causing the creature to turn toward him, seeing him as a threat. Then I threw my d’k tahg at its head, hoping to kill it with one blow.

  “The klongat was too fast. The blade struck only its shoulder—and that served only to anger it. It attacked me, and might have killed me—but Dorrek grabbed its tail, giving me a moment to scramble out of its way, blood seeping from the many wounds its claws inflicted upon me.

  “Then it yanked its tail out of Dorrek’s grip and went for him. Unsheathing my bat’leth, I swung at it.

  “We kept this up for some time—we would each distract it from the other, whittling away with our blades to provide minor wounds. Neither of us could get close enough to do any serious damage, but it was able to do plenty to both of us.

  “Then, at last, Dorrek sliced open one of its paws with his d’k tahg. This disoriented it—it could no longer walk on all four paws—and its subsequent clumsiness allowed me to ram the two front bat’leth blades into its skull.

  “Nakri was furious with us for disobeying his instructions, but he could not deny our victory. We dined heartily on klongat that day, and that night and the following day, as well. For together—” Cap caught a note of bitterness in Klag’s tone. “—Dorrek and I could indeed do anything.”

  The life suddenly draining out of him, Klag grabbed his warnog and downed the rest of it in one massive draught.

  After a pause, the Romulan sneered again. “That’s it? You drink thirteen warnogs and in exchange you tell us how you killed a stupid animal? That’s hardly what I’d expect from someone who claims to put such great stock in storytelling.”

  As he poured a third bloodwine for the Klingon at the other end of the bar, Cap debated whether to interject. Technically, Klag had fulfilled his end of the deal—he had recounted a story.

  But Cap had been tending this bar for as long as it had been here, and he knew when one of his customers had more than one story to tell.

  Sure enough, Klag turned back around and regarded the Romulan with an unusually oblique expression.

  “Very well,” he finally said. He took a gulp of his drink and then started his second story:

  “When one discusses the noble Houses of the empire, it is unlikely that the House of Koghima is ever mentioned. That was true even before Koghima himself, the head of the House, was killed in a brawl at the B’Alda’ar Base tavern. The killer stabbed Koghima in the back, and so the warrior died not knowing who sent him to his death.

  “Koghima had been accompanied by the House ghIntaq, a warrior named Kazho. Kazho did see the face of the petaQ who killed his master, but was unable to find him. Instead, he returned to Qo’noS to tell Koghima’s mate, Gosek, what had happened.

  “Gosek was a proper Klingon Lady. Though the House into which she had wed was of no great moment in the empire, she still ran it honorably. Koghima had died before he and Gosek could bear any heirs. With her mate dead by dishonorable means and no children, she was also honorless. She had only one recourse: to take vengeance against her mate’s killer. She instructed Kazho to accompany her, which he would have done even were he not sworn to obey all those of the House of Koghima. You see, Kazho was madly in love with Gosek, and had been since the day he first laid eyes upon her.

  “Together, they searched the empire. They used all the meagre resources at the disposal of the House of Koghima. For years, they traveled to different worlds, to taverns, to space stations, to starships—all in search of a man whom Kazho knew only by face.

  “Traveling alone together for so long, they, predictably, became lovers. Kazho’s passion was all-encompassing, but Gosek’s motives remained inscrutable. She declared no love for Kazho, no passion for him—yet she never once refused him when he asked to come to her bed. Kazho did not care, as long as those requests were fulfilled.

  “They continued to live off the House’s ever-dwindling reserves, but were never able to find the murderer. It seemed a lost cause, but Gosek would not surrender. Her honor needed to be served—with Koghima dead, it was all she had left.

  “Kazho grew weary. Indeed, he was weary of the quest the moment it began, and that soon overcame his loyalty to the House and to Gosek. He implored Gosek to cease this insanity. They could forget their obligations to a dying—truly, a dead—House and perhaps be farmers on some planet in a dark corner of the empire. It did not matter to him if Gosek was forced to forfeit what was left of the House of Koghima to some other warrior, as long as they were together.

  “But Kazho’s importunings fell on deaf ears. Gosek called him a coward, and he relented.

  “Many times Kazho could have left, but the twin obligations of his oath to the House and his love for Gosek kept him at her side as they continued their futile quest.

  “Eventually, they arrived at Mempa IX. While dining in a restaurant there, Kazho saw two warriors, one of whom had a similar crest to that of Koghima’s killer. Thinking this might be a relative, Kazho abandoned his heart of targ and, without a word to Gosek, rose from his table and confronted the two men.

  “When he asked their names, one of them said, ‘I am Klag, and this is my brother Dorrek—we are the sons of M’Raq.’ ”

  “It was you?” the Triexian asked redundantly.

  “Yes,” Klag said with a smile. “And what’s more, I recognized my questioner. I had seen him in the company of my father many turns earlier, before Kazho left the Defense Force in order to become the ghIntaq of a minor House.

  “I looked at him and said, ‘I know you—you are Kazho.’

  “Before he could reply, Gosek had caught up to us. She demanded to know who these people were. When Kazho told him we were the sons of M’Raq, Gosek went into a rage. ‘Is this M’Raq the one who killed my mate?’

  “Dorrek stared at both of them. ‘Our father was taken in battle by Romulans. He is no doubt in Sto-Vo-Kor now.’

  “I added, ‘And the only people he has killed are enemies of the empire. Of what are you accusing him?’ ”

  Klag hesitated. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

  “Well?” the Boslic captain asked.

  The human Starfleet captain next to Klag said, “You can’t stop the story there.”

  Shaking his head, Klag said, “But I must.”

  Cries of irritation sounded throughout the tavern.

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Was M’Raq the killer?”

  “Did Kazho or Gosek get their revenge?”

  “If it wasn’t M’Raq, who was it?”

  “Why didn’t Kazho say anything if he knew M’Raq?”

  Klag shook his head. “You do not understand. The story cannot have a good end. If M’Raq was the one who killed Koghima without showing his face, then his sons would share in the disgrace of committing so dishonorable an act.

  “But there was no proof, so it was only the word of a lowly ghIntaq of a minor House against two decorated officers from a noble one.

  “If M’Raq was not the killer, if Kazho simply chose Dorrek and me in a desperate attempt to cease their continuous travails and at last bring an end to their quest—either in Gosek’s arms or in Sto-Vo-Kor—then Kazho would be dishonored.

  “And what if M’Raq killed Koghima as a favor to his old comrade Kazho to give Kazho
a chance to became the head of the House of Koghima, mating with the woman he loved, and replacing a useless old fool who was driving their House to ruin? How was he to know that Gosek would insist on the right of vengeance against the killer of a man she never even liked, much less loved—or that she would carry it through to the bitterest of ends?”

  The Romulan shook his head. “First a poor tale, then a tale with no ending. Were I the proprietor of this establishment, I would consider retrieiving my drinks from your gut.”

  “Were you the proprietor, Commander,” Klag said with a vicious grin, “I would not be in it telling any tales at all, and there would be no one here to tell them to.”

  The Bajoran woman who sat on the other side of Klag asked, “C’mon, Klag, the story has to have some ending.”

  Klag drank some more warnog, then slammed the mug onto the bar with a loud clunk. “Yes,” he finally said. “The truth of the matter is, Kazho and Gosek left the restaurant on Mempa without another word. I never did find out what happened to them after that. Perhaps they search the empire still. Perhaps they found their farm. Perhaps they gave each other Mauk-to’Vor to get out of their mutual misery. Or perhaps they insulted someone they should not have, and were killed for their effrontery.

  “However, Dorrek’s words to Kazho turned out to be mistaken. M’Raq was not in Sto-Vo-Kor. He yet lived, a prisoner of the Romulans who was not permitted to die. Eventually, he escaped and returned to Qo’noS.”

  Once again, the Romulan sneered. “I doubt that any Klingon could escape a Romulan prison on his own.”

  Before Klag could respond to this slander, a Rigelian hospital shipmaster asked, “If your father did return after your encounter with Kazho and Gosek—were you able to learn the truth from him?”

  Klag looked at the Rigelian for several moments, then at the Romulan, then at the Klingon at the far end of the bar. He turned to finish off the drink in front of him. Cap gave him a fourteenth moments later.

  “There once,” he finally said, “was a great warrior. A proud man, the head of one of the finest Houses in the empire, he was nonetheless cursed with two fools for sons.

  “The warrior tried to teach his sons well, but they were quite foolish indeed and there was nothing to be done with them. He tried sending them to another great warrior to learn, but they were disrespectful of their elder and flouted his instructions at every opportunity, refusing to benefit from his wisdom. Instead, they hunted a creature they were too stupid to realize they could not defeat.

  “By right of birth, they were able to study to become officers in the Defense Force, and so the warrior sent them to train, in the vain hope that it would make honorable men of them.

  “Somehow, they managed to get their commissions. They became adequate warriors, but nothing worthy of song. The younger fool worked his way up the ranks slowly, unable to distinguish himself. The older fool was promoted more quickly, becoming the second officer of a fine ship, under the command of a scion of a noble House. Fool that he was, he had thought that he was on the path to honor with this appointment.

  “In the meantime, their father the great warrior fought many battles, including one against the empire’s greatest foe. So great a warrior he was that the foe refused to allow him an honorable death, for they wished information from him. But the warrior would not yield, and he eventually made his escape.” Klag said this last while staring right at the Romulan commander, who said nothing as he sipped his ale.

  Klag went on. “The warrior’s oldest son, meanwhile, thought himself fortunate. The first officer under whom he served was a fine warrior, who stood for the crew. When she died in battle, an exchange program with the Federation brought a most odd replacement: a human.

  “It was while serving under the human that the depth of his foolishness was revealed to him, for the captain under whom he served was not worthy of his House, his station, or his brave crew. Based on the flimsiest evidence, the captain provoked a conflict with the Federation flagship, and only quick thinking on the part of the human kept us from dishonorable death.

  “When the human’s tour ended, the fool was made first officer, and he was soon after visited by a bekk of no consequence, who revealed himself to be an agent of the captain’s House. ‘Be warned, Commander,’ he said, ‘that your captain is a man of tremendous influence. You will obey his orders and serve him in all things—as your predecessor did. Any action you take not in accordance with the captain’s wishes will result in you suffering a most ignoble fate—as your predecessor did.’

  “What, you might wonder, did this fool do? Was he a worthy son to his father, who stood against his foe and would not give them what they asked? Would he defy the words spoken to him by a secret assassin working for an honorless coward? Would he live up to the reputation of his House by showing that the path of honor will win the day over those who would besmirch everything that the empire stands for?

  “You can guess the answer—for time had made him a bigger fool than any could possibly imagine. And so, for ten years, he remained the lapdog of this cowardly petaQ, covering up the captain’s dishonor just as his predecessor had. So long was he trapped under this toDSaH’s bootheel that his younger brother had achieved the same rank in due course.

  “Meanwhile, the fools’ father returned home from his captivity. He could have gone back to his life as a warrior, but, as was his right, he chose not to reclaim his honor. He had fought his battles, and he had two sons to carry on his name.

  “But his sons were very great fools indeed, and they bickered and argued. The older son refused to see his father, thinking him a disgrace; the younger son would not do his filial duty and obey. So where once the two were inseparable, where once they were able to achieve great things together, now they achieved nothing.

  “Eventually, the warrior died of natural causes. That only made things worse. The older fool had lost his arm in the same battle that claimed his dishonorable captain. Having at last achieved the captaincy he had waited his entire life for, the older fool, in a misbegotten attempt to salvage his family’s honor, had his father’s arm grafted onto his own body.

  “The younger fool excoriated him for it. He tormented his brother, even took up arms against him in a battle on behalf of the Order of the Bat’leth. Unable to allow his disobedience to continue, and with his position as head of the House now secure with the great warrior’s death, the older fool was forced to remove his younger brother from their House.

  “He had no choice, which only made him more foolish.

  “Was he right to refuse to see his own father? Was he right to take arms against his own brother? Was his father truly a coward who killed another warrior without showing his face in a barroom brawl? Was his father truly able to escape the Romulans, or did they let him go? And if so, did that disgrace lead him to avoid reclaiming his honor?

  “And did any of that matter?”

  With the very same arm that once belonged to his father, Klag raised his final warnog and drank it all down. “A fine House has been sundered because of two children who did not learn the lesson that Nakri taught them: that they were warriors, and that warriors do not obey blindly, but do what is right. When they were children, the two fools knew that they could defeat the klongat even though Nakri told them they could not. Because, though it is honor and duty that guide us, they should not shackle us.

  “Duty to her husband compelled Gosek to continue her mad quest for Koghima’s killer when there was no reason why she should. Duty to his House compelled Kazho to follow her through to the bitter end. Duty to his ship compelled the older fool not to challenge his captain, even though he was an incompetent who deserved to die. And duty to his honor compelled the fool to shun his own father when he refused to reclaim his lost glory—and to cast out his brother when he did not follow the elder’s lead.

  “Regardless of the motives, regardless of the truth, regardless of the misunderstandings, regardless of the disobedience in the face of righteousness, r
egardless of the obedience in the face of dishonor—the result is the same, and the result is tragic. And little can be done about it now.

  “Because the older fool realized too late that his father was dead, and that he would never be able to speak to him, to be with him—to learn from him ever again. Whether or not he was an honorable man, whether or not he stabbed a man in the back, whether or not he truly escaped from the Romulans—the fool, once again and for the final time, failed to learn the lessons his father tried so hard to impart to him. Instead a great warrior died thinking his oldest son hated him. At the very least, he was spared the sight of his son, a Klingon warrior, admitting to a room full of friends and strangers—and others—that he misses his father.”

  With that, Klag rose from his stool, turned, and left the Captain’s Table.

  Cap took Klag’s warnog mug and dropped it into the dirty-dish bin. As he did so, the noise in the bar started, slowly, to build, as the patrons realized that the story was at last over, and regular discussion could resume until such time as someone else was asked for their payment.

  “An interesting story,” the Triexian said.

  The Romulan once again sneered. “Your criteria for interest are considerably less exacting than my own. I found the first story dull, the second aimless, and the third maudlin.”

  “Well, I liked it,” the Boslic woman said.

  “Which one?” the Telspong asked.

  “All of them.”

  The Bajoran solar sailboat captain shrugged. “It was just more fighting, killing, and honor.”

  Cap walked over to the end of the bar where the other Klingon still sat, brooding. “Another bloodwine?”

  The Klingon shook his head without looking up.

  “What about a story? Do you have one?”

  Finishing his bloodwine and then casting the mug aside, the Klingon rose from his bar stool and said, “My brother just told it.”

  With that, Dorrek, son of M’Raq, left.

  Tending Bar…

  Cap had observed Kira throughout Klag’s story. Something in Klag’s tale struck a chord with the Bajoran woman, and Cap knew that she had found her payment, even if she herself didn’t realize it. Refilling her drink, he watched her thoughtful expression, even as her companion, Sisko, told a story about a young man—Sisko’s own son, Cap knew, though the captain left this fact out—who had lost his father and, in an attempt to find him, traveled a great distance and had many adventures on a vessel called the Even Odds in a place thousands of light-years from his home. In the end, the young man did not find his father, but brought two lost souls back to the place that all three had called home. Cap had already heard a version of this story from the Even Odds’ own captain a while back, and he enjoyed hearing the different perspective.