I.K.S. Gorkon Book One: A Good Day to Die Read online

  Then General Talak stepped forward.

  Unable to hold back a sneer, Klag looked away.

  Wirrk noticed. “Something troubles you, Captain?”

  “It is a—family matter.”

  Nodding, Wirrk said nothing more, wisely choosing not to interfere in a dispute between two Houses.

  Though, in truth, no real dispute existed, exactly. Kargan’s death at Marcan V freed Klag from being under the heel of that honorless toDSaH, but Talak, Kargan’s Housemate, still served as Klag’s commanding officer. Though Talak was not as unworthy of his position as Kargan—that almost wasn’t possible—Klag had very little use for the general, and his position as Martok’s chief of staff had always been a point against the chancellor in Klag’s mind.

  “General Talak,” Martok said, “has assembled a fleet. Each of you will be given a subsector of Kavrot to explore. If you find a world that is worthy of being added to the Empire’s glory, you will contact the general immediately and begin the conquest. He will send his fleet to the planet to complete the securing of the world for the Empire.”

  Talak, who shared a crest with Kargan, but did not have as fat a face as the late captain, added, “I have prepared a list of the types of worlds we are particularly interested in, and the minerals, elements, and materials we are in especial need of.”

  “This is an open-ended mission,” Martok said, looking at each of the twelve captains in turn. “It will continue until every parsec of Kavrot is at least charted and catalogued. Initial probes have indicated at least a dozen worlds that should meet the criteria for conquest, and hundreds more possibilities. Kahless once said that the unknown is the greatest foe of all. Today, each of you will go out and face that foe. And I have every faith in your ability to defeat it. I send you all to glory! I send you all to honor!” Martok raised a fist. “For the Empire!”

  Klag stood and raised the fist that once belonged to his father and, along with the eleven other captains, repeated, “For the Empire!”

  Next to him, Wirrk had done the same, but when he lowered his arm, he muttered, “I’d rather be fighting Romulans.”

  Throwing his head back and laughing, Klag said, “Do not worry, my friend. I suspect that you will find all the fighting your heart desires. Think of it—an entire sector filled with foes we cannot even imagine. It will be glorious.”

  Wirrk spit. “It will be tedious. Charting solar systems like some kind of Federation science vessel. It is not the task of a warrior.”

  Grinning, Klag said, “I will make you a wager, Wirrk. I have a case of bloodwine in my quarters—from the K’reetka vintner.”

  That got Wirrk’s attention. “What year?”

  “Ninety-eight.”

  Laughing, Wirrk said, “What is your wager?”

  “I predict that, within six months, both of our vessels will have seen combat on this mission. If we both survive the mission, we will reconvene here when the sector is fully mapped. If I am wrong, the case of bloodwine is yours.”

  “And if you are right?”

  Klag laughed. “You can watch me drink it.”

  Wirrk stared at Klag for a moment, then joined Klag’s laugh, and they head-butted enthusiastically.

  Dorrek watched in disgust as Klag and one of the other ship captains, whom Dorrek did not know, laughed over some no-doubt-foolish bit of humor.

  He had so been looking forward to taking the K’mpec into battle against the Dominion. After living in the shadow of his unworthy younger brother, Dorrek had been given a chance to shine on his own. Klag had shamed Dorrek and the rest of their House in every possible way. But now, thanks to some joke of fate, they were equals: both commanders of Chancellor-class vessels, both going on similar missions to bring new territory to the Empire. Dorrek was not sure whether it was fitting or revolting.

  Talak had a padd for each captain which contained detailed information on their specific assignments. As his older brother approached the general to take his, Dorrek saw a glance pass between the two of them.

  Dorrek recognized the expression on Talak’s face as he looked upon Klag, as Dorrek saw it in reflective surfaces every time he thought about his brother. Talak, Dorrek knew, was of the same House as the late Captain Kargan of the Pagh. Perhaps the general also feels, as I do, that my brother stole Kargan’s honor.

  Deliberately hanging back, Dorrek waited so that he would be the last to receive the orders. Most of the captains—including Klag—then transported back to their ships or left on foot for some other business on Ty’Gokor.

  As he took the padd from Talak, Dorrek said, “I would speak with you.”

  Talak wouldn’t even look at him. “I have nothing to say to the younger brother of the so-called Hero of Marcan.”

  “In that case, we have much in common, General—for I have no use for my older brother, either.”

  Now Talak made eye contact. The general had steely gray eyes that peered out from beneath the ridge of his crest. His long hair had gone mostly white, but his beard was still a powerful dark brown. His scowl deepened.

  “Very well, Captain. You may speak—briefly.”

  “Captain Klag shames me with his very existence, General. He had the good fortune to serve under a great commander on the Pagh, only to rob Kargan of the glory he deserved for the victory at Marcan.”

  Talak’s facial expression did not change, but he did say, “Kargan was my Housemate.”

  “Indeed?” Dorrek said, feigning surprise. “Klag used Kargan to further his own honor, and then abandoned him when Kargan at last went to Sto-Vo-Kor. But that is the least of his crimes.”

  Now Talak nodded. “You speak of his mutilation?”

  “Oh yes,” Dorrek said, clenching his fists. “For over ten years, he ignored the wishes of our father. You know of M’Raq?”

  “Only that he is the father of both yourself and Klag.”

  Dorrek managed to contain his disappointment. M’Raq had once been a great warrior, and it disheartened him that his deeds had not been immortalized. But then, he thought, that was Father’s wish. “My father was captured by Romulans and not permitted to die. He escaped without giving the Romulans any intelligence about us and returned to Qo’noS. Klag refused to see him—until the day M’Raq died, when he descended upon our father’s corpse like a predator and grafted his good right arm to his shoulder.”

  Still, Talak’s face betrayed no emotion. Dorrek found it disturbing—was he getting through to the old man? Am I cultivating an ally or sowing the seeds for my defeat by a most powerful enemy?

  “It would seem,” Talak finally said after an uncomfortable silence, “that we both have our reasons for finding your brother unworthy of his rank and position.”

  This goes better than I had dreamed, Dorrek thought. “Yes. Perhaps we should put those thoughts to action.”

  However, Talak shook his head. “No. At least not yet. Klag has just joined the Order, and is obviously favored by Martok. And, whatever he may or may not have done at Marcan V, his deeds at Narendra III are unimpeachable.”

  Dorrek spit on the stone floor of the amphitheater. “With the help of humans.”

  “With the help of Picard, ” Talak said. “That human is a hallowed figure in the Empire, Captain, and Klag has fought beside him as an equal. That is a factor that cannot be underestimated.”

  Bristling, Dorrek had to at least concede that point. Jean-Luc Picard was the only outsider ever to serve as Arbiter of Succession, having done so a decade ago when Gowron succeeded K’mpec—navigating a civil war between Gowron and the House of Duras along the way.

  Then, for the first time, Talak smiled. “But it can be overcome—eventually. We will wait. Klag is a toDSaH who has survived due to the skills of others far more worthy. Today, however, he, like you, has been sent to the Kavrot Sector—alone. He will not have Martok or Picard or Kargan to save him.” The general put a hand on Dorrek’s shoulder. “We will speak again when the time is right, Dorrek, son of M’Raq. My Housema
te and your father will be avenged. On that, I give you my word.”

  “And I give you my word,” Dorrek said, returning the gesture, “that whatever aid you will need to expose Klag for the coward and fool that he is, I will provide.”

  Talak nodded. “Good. Now, return to the K’mpec. You have a long journey ahead of you, and much glory to bring to the Empire.”

  Returning the nod, Dorrek stepped back and activated his communicator. “Dorrek to K’mpec. One to transport.”

  “Qapla’, Captain,” Talak said.

  “To us both,” Dorrek replied as the transporter took him back to his command.

  Immediately upon Klag’s entering his quarters on the Gorkon, the intercom sounded with a message from Lokor, his chief of security.

  “Captain, the I.K.S. Mekbel has arrived with the crew replacements.”

  “Good. Instruct the transporter rooms to bring them aboard. Have the troops report to their QaS DevwI’ and the others report directly to their duty stations.” He paused. “Except for Commander Kornan and Lieutenant Leskit—bring them to me in my office.”

  “As you command,” Lokor said. “Sir, I must ask—will we be learning our new mission soon?”

  From anyone else, the question might be presumptuous, but Lokor was simply doing his duty. As the head of ship’s security, he was concerned with maintaining order on the Gorkon. He had expressed concern with the deleterious effect of prolonged inactivity on the ground troops under the command of the QaS DevwI’. The Gorkon had been in space for almost five months, and the call for the fifteen hundred troops assigned to the vessel had been minimal. Several had been rotated off at Ty’Gokor, and most of those the Mekbel was transporting now were replacing those.

  “Our new mission will be announced once we have gotten under way.”

  “Thank you, Captain. Out.”

  Klag sighed. He won’t thank me once he hears of the mission. The Kavrot Sector was a huge expanse of space in the Beta Quadrant, far from the borders of other local powers. No other local governmental body of any consequence had territory bordering on that sector.

  Unfortunately for Lokor, the mission was likely to be one of prolonged inactivity, leavened with bursts of action that would require their warriors to be at their finest. Lokor’s unenviable task would be to make sure that the QaS DevwI’ were able to keep the troops’ frustration during the former at bay and have them be ready for the latter.

  Before departing his quarters, Klag contacted the medical bay. “Dr. B’Oraq, this is Klag. What is Lieutenant Toq’s condition?”

  “Unconscious,” B’Oraq said in a tone that conveyed the smile Klag knew was on her face. “He is not due on the bridge for another twenty minutes. If he has not roused by then, I will administer a stimulant that will render him capable of duty.” She paused. “I can’t guarantee it will render him capable of coherent speech, but he will be fit for the bridge.”

  “Well done, Doctor.”

  “While I have you here, Captain, I believe you wanted to commence bat’leth drills today?”

  “Yes.” Klag had grown reaccustomed to having two limbs for everyday activities. The next step was to relearn the skills of a warrior—which was, after all, why he had chosen to undergo the transplant procedure in the first place. He wished to improve his prowess as a warrior and bring honor to his House. He could not do that until he adjusted to fighting with a bat’leth. “When my bridge shift ends today, we will meet on the holodeck.”

  “Very well. Out.”

  Klag then exited his quarters and headed for the bridge. Morr, Klag’s personal guard, fell into step behind him.

  The turbolift door opened noisily to the bustle of activity that characterized the nerve center of any spacefaring vessel. Entering on the starboard side, he saw the second-shift crew at the science and communications stations, the fire and damage-control stations just beyond them from where he stood.

  He strode across the bridge, his boots pounding loudly on the metal of the deck. The noise level reduced as soon as everyone realized that the captain was present. At the rear of the bridge, the four secondary gunner positions sat empty until such time as the Gorkon would be called into battle. Beyond that, assorted bekks worked the various engineering consoles. Ensigns Kal and Morketh stood at the operations and primary gunner positions behind the captain’s chair, while Ensign Koxx occupied the helm control station to the chair’s left. The chair itself remained empty—only the supreme commander of the vessel had the right to take that seat, and that was Klag until such time as he was removed.

  May that day only come when I die in battle, this fine crew by my side.

  Lieutenant K’Nir, the second-shift duty officer, rose from her position in the first officer’s chair.

  “Report,” Klag barked at her.

  “Holding position in standard orbit around Ty’Gokor, Captain,” K’Nir said quickly. “Transporter rooms report all crew replacements on board. All systems show ready.”

  “Good. All of you are to remain on the bridge when your shift ends in fifteen minutes until I dismiss you.”

  As he spoke, the port turbolift door opened to let in three officers, of whom Klag recognized two. Leading the way was the tall, muscular form of Lokor. His waist-length black hair was tied in intricate braids, making him instantly recognizable. The white-haired one behind him, who added to his uniform by wearing a necklace made up of Cardassian neckbones, gathered in combat over the past few years, was Leskit. The lieutenant had served as the Gorkon’s pilot during its shakedown and first mission before being rotated back to the Rotarran. Since then, Klag had gone through three pilots, each more incompetent than the last, culminating in the fool Vralk, who had gotten Klag’s first officer, Commander Tereth, killed at Narendra III. Tereth had been a fine warrior and an excellent officer, and deserved a better fate. Naturally, Klag put Vralk to an ignoble death, happily twisting the d’k tahg that released the imbecile’s spirit to Gre’thor himself. Command had finally seen fit to provide him with a pilot who had some skill.

  The third had a commander’s medal, and therefore had to be Tereth’s replacement as Klag’s first officer: Kornan. Toq had been second officer only for a few months, and both Klag and Command agreed that he was not yet ready to take on the responsibilities of a promotion, so Kornan was assigned. Klag knew that, like Leskit, the commander had served on the Rotarran, including several tours under then-General Martok himself. Klag noted that Kornan had unusually short hair and wore a sleeveless tunic instead of his standard uniform, though it had all the appropriate insignia.

  “You have the bridge until then, K’Nir.” He gazed upon the three officers. “Return to your post, Lokor. You two, with me.”

  Lokor nodded and reentered the turbolift. Klag walked the rest of the way across the bridge to his office, the footfalls behind him indicating that Leskit, Kornan, and Morr did likewise behind him.

  Klag took his seat behind his desk. Morr, of course, remained outside the office, but the Gorkon’s new first officer and pilot followed the captain in and stood before him.

  “Welcome back, Leskit,” Klag said.

  “Couldn’t muddle through without me, Captain?”

  “Apparently not, based on the animal Command sent to replace you. And his two replacements were far worse.” Klag smiled. “Though I hope that you will endeavor to report for combat duty fully dressed.”

  Kornan shot the pilot a look at that. Leskit simply grinned. “That will depend on factors outside my humble control, Captain.”

  Klag laughed at that, then turned to Kornan. “As for you, Commander, you come highly recommended—most notably by Chancellor Martok. Yet, sometimes I wonder.”

  “Sir?”

  “Your service record reads like one who has been replaced by a changeling. First we have the Kornan who served as gunner on the Rotarran. Then the ship won a victory against the Jem’Hadar while rescuing the B’Moth, and it is as if a switch was thrown. The old Kornan bore little resemblance to t
he Kornan who was decorated six times over the course of the war.”

  “I had—lost my way, Captain,” Kornan said after a moment. “The chancellor helped me regain the path to honor, and I have not strayed from that path since.”

  Leskit leaned forward and pretended to speak in a whisper. “He’s also gotten much more boring.”

  Snorting, Klag said, “Be that as it may, you will need to remain on that path. This is a crew of our finest warriors, Commander, and you have a difficult task ahead of you. Tereth was well regarded, and she died a death unworthy of her. You will be held to a lofty standard. See that you live up to it.”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Good. I chose you due to that—do not make me regret that choice.”

  Klag hoped that the reality of Kornan lived up to the billing. For the first time, Klag had had a choice in first officers—Command had assigned him the useless Drex when he first took command of the Gorkon, and Tereth had specifically requested the post when Drex was transferred off. This time, Klag chose from a variety of candidates, of which Kornan seemed best suited. The Rotarran had gained a reputation as a ship that knew only defeat before Martok had managed to restore the vessel’s—and the crew’s—honor. Kornan and Leskit had both been part of that, and part of the transformation.

  And given the nature of our mission, those skills would be of even more use.

  “The primary shift is about to start,” he said, handing Kornan the padd that Talak had given him. “This will be our mission.”

  Kornan read over the padd. “It could be glorious,” he said, looking up from the display.