#13--Too Much Brass
Location: Qo’Nos; The Great Hall of the High Imperial Council, Council chambers
Timeline: Just after the Rag’naRok’s arrive at Qo’Nos [and just before the To’Vars?]
The Rag’naRoK’s landing party arrived in the Klingon capitol, beaming directly into the High Council’s complex. The planetside crew was greeted by the sight of a clean, well-lit, and thoroughly efficient transporter room and reception area … and a wall of Imperial soldiers, on guard and ready for the first sign of trouble. While the Klinzhai military presence was always visible on the homeworld - especially in high-level government buildings – now it was simply everywhere.
Despite the wall of black body armor, the Rag’naRok’s were swiftly and efficiently waved through this secondary checkpoint. The years of warrior focus, not to mention the rush of continued good fortune, made the House regiment move like a regulated machine, without a single nervous look or betraying thought amongst them.
As the group marched through the massive corridor, they were the picture of old-fashioned Klingon nobility. Captain Tk’toK Rag’naRok strolled in front of the group, his battleship grey cloak sweeping behind him, the ‘decorative’ sidearm on his waist looking allot more menacing than it should. J’oK stomped a few feet behind the Captain, looking – in spite of his cleaned and pressed, dress-military appearance - like a fighting targ limping to it’s final match. Flanking the trio of officers was the resplendent Lurra Dk’tahg, her polished and well-cared for uniform offsetting her radiant copper skin and flowing, light-brown (almost blonde) warrioress’ mane. Bringing up the rear was a trio of fully-armored House guards, their flowing black capes emblazoned with old Klinzhai script and hieroglyphs, their faces concealed by cave-black blast-visors. Each soldier on either side carried a Bo-staff sized painstick (the Rag’naRok’s traditional House weapon), while the one in the center carried a black and silver flag of the House standard on an upturned spear.
As the group finished the last few meters of their journey, they were given a wide berth. While the presence of such a regal group of dignitaries might draw too many unwanted stares anywhere else, in the Council Hall they were just another bunch of … politicians.
Finally the group arrived at the entrance to the Council chambers. The Captain announced a sharp halt, and they all waited at the entrance, while Tk’toK simply stared at the doors. “Chng’Tho!” He then barked, waving his entourage forward – while he himself bore through with his ‘head down and his heart forward’ (leading the diplomatic mission like a battle charge).
Once inside the main Council chamber, the Ragn’naRok’s leader suddenly took a different approach, completely. Waving his troops to an at-attention-halt, Tk’toK dropped to one knee, and bowed his head, reverently, before High Chancellor M’Relkan. The remainder of his group followed the Captain’s lead (with the exception of J’ok; who stood standing a second longer – until he felt the familiar hum of a painstick charging up behind his knees).
M'Relkan, in his typical ceremonial fashion, raised a single arm, indicating for the party to rise. "Your respects to the council is acknowledged." He said.
Shooting M'Relkan a dirty look, Mekh'Tar could barely contain his irritation at the pathetic old man. He'd clung to power even after the blunders that led to the civil war. Mekh'Tar himself had personally tried to have him removed, but there was just not enough political will to do it in the council.
[What now?] Rodek To’Var thought.
The tall, elegant, older woman at the Council table was staring down at the ‘diplomatic’ delegation with a look of dispassionate disinterest. Reclining back in her chair, her long, manicured fingertips steepled under her chin – she reflected all the charisma of a Vulcan psychologist … A strange contrast to the overwhelmingly tense and paranoid, if polite, atmosphere of the Council chamber. “Just get them talking, there’s no need to get angry – yet.” If some small voice within Cha’riana Dk’tahg repeated this mantra, she wasn’t aware of it; the technique was now second-nature to the Klingon matriarch. “Useful with dishonorable Captains, corrupt Houses, and mischievous children and husbands alike!” (As she would often joke)
D’eVo Dk’tahg kept himself from snarling with disgust at the sickening display of ‘patriotism’ from the Rag’naRok’s. Instead, he only glared out, sullenly, at the proceedings, keeping his mouth shut as he slouched in the ‘guest’ chair next to his adoptive Klingon mother. “This should be interesting” D’eVo whispered, dryly, sidling in close (so as not to be overheard) …
He turned to check her reaction, and immediately turned back away. “I’ve seen THAT look before” D’eVo thought, turning his attention back to the spectacle on the presentation floor.
After finishing his elaborate bow, Captain Rag’naRok then advanced forward, directly approaching the Council. “Chancellor, esteemed Council …” As the Captain greeted the executives of the Klingon empire, he calmly retrieved a coin-sized data disc from an inside pocket of his outer robe, while his other hand pulled out a handheld playback device (never once taking his eyes away from the Chancellor and His Council). “May I?” he asked, holding up the disc with one hand. After receiving the barest assertion from his audience, Tk’toK then slid the media into a slot on the device, and continued. “This woman …” he said, even as the image of a young, attractive human female appeared, floating in mid-air above his head. “This … HUMAN” he specified “has been the acting head of House To’Var for some time now. She is NOT bonded to a Klingon male, as is usually the case in these situations. She chooses to remain unmarried, and still maintain the privileges of her title. We cannot allow such a deliberate contempt for our traditions to continue!” Wasting no time, he went straight for the sales pitch: “As you may know, our forces were instrumental in defeating the rebels during the recent troubles here on the homeworld.” Ignoring the sharp, shocked silence, he continued; “And our humble House would like to offer a solution, as well. We would like to present, for the Council’s consideration …”
“She’s not acting Head of House,” Ro’dek shouted, as he strode up to the front of the room. Standing next to Capt. Rag’naRok, but not acknowledging him in any way, he saluted, and said, “Forgive me, but I could not stand by and hear my sister-in-law slandered.” Turning to face the assembly, he said, “Diana Hunter To’var, daughter of Adm. Grant Armstrong Hunter, and wife to my brother Ta’rok--a warrior who shot down seven Jem’Hadar fighters during the Dominion War--IS Head of House, by our traditions of inheritance and personal combat.” Turning back to the Council, he said, “As for privileges, the only privilege she knows is the honor of defending our people and way of life.”
“May I remind the Chancellor’s guests that these proceedings are official business of the Empire, NOT a schoolyard fight.” Cha’riana Dk’tahg interrupted, the ambient white light of the chamber reflecting off her silver mane like a halo. “Now, I believe Captain Rag’naRok still had the floor …”
Ro’dek acknowledged the woman’s request, stepped back, and allowed the Captain to continue.
J’oK Rag’naRok was staring absently into space, when he realized that someone was motioning towards him. Instantly waking up, he snapped to attention and marched forward. “I am sai-ves’tai Lieutenant J’oK Rag’naRoK, son of Z’azz, House of Rag’naRoK. I have served the Empire in the Battle for Situ IV, and I offer titles, ships and lands. I have come here to demand my rights as a KLINGON suitor … for the good of the Empire!” J’oK then turned (after an appropriate moment of respectful glaring at his superiors) back to his Captain, who nodded at him, and returned to his earlier position (behind Tk’toK).
“Our traditions, our unique cultural identity, must be preserved at all costs. We ask nothing from you …. We only ask to serve, yet again.” The Klingon Captain then stepped back, saying nothing more. The words he chose to close with were clear, and short. But, he knew, the implied political threat, not to mention the somewhat blatant bid for power inherent in his statement was MORE than sufficient.
M'Relkan shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. It was a hard decision to make, seeing as the council was split over the issue of house Rag'Narok. It was clear the house had supplied most of the troops and funding for the traitor ship, Honor Blade, but then again, several key members of the Dk'tahg house were the brains of the operation. Condemning the Rag'Naroks would have meant wholesale condemnation of several major houses with strong political ties. But then again, forcing an honorable house like the To'Vars into such a union would be a political catastrophe.
Ro’dek risked the council’s displeasure, and interrupted again, “My sister-in-law has given her word, and I believe that she desires a warrior husband. My objection is that this…” Ro’dek made circles in the air with his right hand--he simply could not find the right word.” Starting over, Ro’dek said, “That is, why should he be given any special consideration. There have been several honorable offers of marriage from neighboring houses. These warriors are courting her according to Klingon tradition, which they,” (he tipped his head in the Rag’NaRoks direction, acknowledging them for the first time), “they claim is important to them.”
“Are we Klingons, or Ferengi slave traders, that we give females away to the highest bidder?” Ro’dek asked.
Cha’riana Dk’tahg, instead of growing agitated and angry at the man’s traitorous words, instead only regarded him coolly; sitting back in her chair and scrutinizing Captain Rag’naRok with suspicious disdain.
K'Vrock sat quietly, taking it all in. He had no love for this sort of politics, but his father had made a request. Now he used it as a chance to find his father allies in their distrust of this proposed marriage. Even to hear that it was Rag'NaRoks behind this put K'Vrock in a state of unease. If they kept up at this pace there would be another civil war.
D’eVo, on the other hand, was squirming in his seat. When he heard the Captain talk about his family defended the Empire, it took every bit of self-control not to jump, screaming, out of his chair. “DEFENDED?! YOU PROBABLY WERE BEHIND IT!!!” his inner voice shouted out, as he leaned forward, looking at the traveling House party like he was ready to leap over the railing at them at any moment.
When the Rag’naRok’s presented J’oK as their solution to Diana To’Var’s upcoming nuptials, D’eVo actually turned to look at each of the individual’s seated at the conference table, shocked that the Council would even entertain such a preposterous proposal. He knew what most of the Klingon public didn’t; “That man is an honorless MURDERER! If the Council doesn’t know, I have a pretty good idea who was behind that, too!!” As he thought, he didn’t notice that he was now crouching in his chair, his fingertips digging into the armrests.
The Chancellor weighed these thoughts before taking a breath to speak: "I believe-"
"STOP!" The shout echoed throughout the council hall, startling everyone. It had come from General Mekh'Tar.
M'Relkan shot daggers at the old general, wanting nothing more than to cast him out of the council chambers for his disrespectful outburst, but following the battle, Mekh'Tar had been elevated to political godhood. Certainly not yet in a position to overrule the Chancellor, but certainly strong enough to be immune to anything M'Relkan could throw at him.
"What. Is. It........GENERAL?" M'Relkan growled.
"Perhaps this matter is best discussed in private." Mekh'Tar replied coolly. "We must take time to give the Rag'Narok's request the proper forethought and wisdom." The General practically spat when he mentioned the house's name.
M'Relkan harrumphed and inflated his chest before replying: "Very well...everyone out!"
“The Rag’na’roks have presented a well rehearsed argument,” Rodek said. “Does House To’var not have an opportunity to speak as well.”
K'Vrock eyed the Chancellor. So it had come to closed door discussions and rehearsed speeches had it? His house and family had nothing but respect for Mekh'Tar and he was relieved the General had the Chancellors ear, however unwillingly. The entire thing was becoming the equivalent of what Humans referenced as a circus. K'Vrock took the chance to speak. "Let House To'var have their say. Everyone else has."
The High Council chamber was silent – save for the sounds of exiting footfalls and the loud creak of the ornate, antique, wooden doors opening and closing – as the Chancellor and his scattered Council watched the Rag’naRok’s leave.
After the last armored soldier marched smartly out of the room (holding out his House standard like he was bringing up a parade), and the massive, oaken double doors creaked shut, all eyes turned to the Chancellor.
"I am for this union." The Chancellor began. "There has been much discontent and controversy over Miss Hunter's position as head of house To'Var. This will quell the debate and promote unity within the houses."
After waiting an appropriate time before addressing the Chancellor directly, the first voice to speak was that of the Dk’tahg clan’s matriarach. “Is this even worth the Council’s time? I ask this with all respect, my Chancellor …” Cha’riana Dk’tahgs words were measured and well-chosen, and her voice perfectly enunciated and accented for a woman of her class and distinction. After completing the thought, she finished her query: “Considering how much work we have to do, rebuilding the capital city, repairing the defense grid, rooting out KLF factions both on-world and off. Should the marital status of a minor House Mistress be the Council’s concern, right now?” As she spoke, Cha’riana felt D’eVo start forward several times, almost interrupting her (she stopped the intrusions before they could slip out with a calm, reassuring hand on her Terran son’s shoulder – reminding him of the importance of decorum, the chain of command, and not speaking before thinking … all with a simple, gentle, unspoken gesture).
"Well said, Mistress Dk'tahg." Mekh'Tar chimed in.
K'Vrock raised a single brow. An unforseen opinion, but possibly another ally? His father wanted him to help Diana and House To'var anyway he could. Perhaps this was an opening? " The Mistress makes a
very valid point. Should not the reconstruction of our lands be our priority?"
"This has everything to do with the reconstruction!" M'Relkan insisted. "The fighting that broke out has reopened wounds between the Houses. Many took this as an opportunity to spill blood over old feuds." Turning to K'Vrock, the Chancellor raised a hand to indicate the stand-in head of house. "K'Vrock is here as a stand-in because his father was injured in such a fight! If we don't do something to unify the houses and quell the unrest, we'll have a house civil war!"
K'Vrock made a slight bow at the acknowledgement. "And do not allow yourselves to believe that House Marstoq will not fight for the Empire, for it's restoration. This is a matter beneath us. Why waste time with this when the restoration of our Empire is more important. Let the woman decide who she will marry. Let us decide how to rebuild."
“We are at peace with our neighbors,” Rodek said, “and Diana is sincere about restoring order to the empire. She has been interviewing a number of possible candidates, and it is still three months before the agreed upon deadline.” Rodek looked at the faces of the men and women around the conference table. “All other suitors approached Diana directly, why should J’ok Rag’na’rok get special consideration from this council? What does he have in common with my brother? How is he a hero?”
D’eVo Dk’tahg couldn’t believe what he was hearing: The fact that the Council was even wasting time on ‘wedding planning’, not to mention “dealing with a bunch of traitors and cowards like the Rag’naRok’s!” had his blood boiling. Try as he might, he couldn’t contain himself any longer. He shot out of his chair, standing up and addressing the council (in a VERY loud voice); “The Rag’naRok’s have been involved in criminal enterprises for YEARS, including crimes against the Empire!” After getting no response, save for polite, strained tolerance for his outburst, he carried on. “I know, for a fact, that this ‘J’ok Rag’naRoK’ is suspected of rape, murder, and gods-know-what, in AND out of Imperial space! Does the council really want to force the To’Vars to accept this mate, and for what?! What, some dusty old tradition that nobody else even cares about anymore?!!” Ignoring the subtle looks of disapproval and embarrassment from ‘mom’, he went straight for the closer: “If the Rag’naRok’s gain a foothold in ANY major House, mark my words, they will not stop until the Empire is theirs!!!”
Rodek didn’t recognize the warrior standing beside Mistress Dk’tagh. He nodded his head in the man’s direction, to show both agreement with, and appreciation for, his remarks.
"Young Dk'tahg, you are here as a GUEST. You would do well to remember that!" M'Relkan couldn't believe the way HIS council was behaving. Didn't the title of Chancellor mean anything any more?
“Please excuse the young man, my Chancellor.” Char’iana said (after a brief, charged look was passed between mother and son). “His outburst was uncalled for, but his reasoning is sound. There has been discussion, even in these chambers, about the ‘Rag’naRok problem.’ Lack of proof doesn’t guarantee lack of guilt.” She quoted, resorting to a well-worn axiom of the Klingon legal system. Before letting the meeting resume, Cha’riana Dk’tahg then reasserted her early position, backing up Rodek while she did; “Again, why is this even being debated in the Council chambers? I fail to see the importance of this, but I AM starting to question the Rag’naRok’s motives in all this … And I, for one, didn’t trust them to begin with!”
"I agree with the young man." Mekh'Tar said. "We cannot allow the Rag'Naroks any more political or economic power. Handing over House To'Var would only benefit their traitorous goals."
"Who said we were handing anything over?" M'Relkan gave Mekh'Tar a sly smile. "Who among us knows Diana Hunter? Raise your hand?"
Cha’riana Dk’tahg raised her hand, briefly, before lowering it again, and muttered (while intently looking at her notes); “Perhaps we should offer the services of the Klingon Imperial Guard to chaperone any future relationships, just to prevent this sort of thing from happening …”
Rodek raised his left hand, as he covered his lips with his fist. It was difficult to keep from smiling--the visual imagery was quite amusing. Still, the thought of someone as close to him as a real sister, sharing a bed with that vulgar, misanthropic, homicidal, idiotic excuse for a Klingon warrior made his blood run hot.
D’eVo looked around before raising his hand. While he didn’t know Diana personally, (“I did read her file – TWICE!” he thought) he knew the risks of not supporting her and her House against the Rag’naRok’s power-grab. And, he reasoned, he knew what it was like to be a human in a Klingon House, and, what it was like to be the victim of an arranged marriage, as well.
K'Vrock could not raise his hand. His father could, but....K'Vrock sighed. Still, he saw the sentiment of some and exchanged a knowing look with Mekh'Tar and D'eVo. K'Vrock knew of his father's distrust of
the Rag'naRok's.
Nodding, M'Relkan continued. "You who know her, do you think that she is a great warrior? A strong woman?"
Cha’riana Dk’tahg looked around at the faces of the other Council members and other assorted delegates. She was beginning to suspect where the Chancellor was going with this, and was hoping that her suspicions were only the paranoid worries of an old woman. Seeing the curious, dumfounded looks from some of her colleagues, Cha’riana’s ‘paranoid’ suspicions began to take form as good old-fashioned woman’s intuition, instead of the nitpicking worries of an elderly Klingon matriarch.
Rodek nodded ’yes,’ but didn’t like where this was going.
D’eVo Dk’tahg dropped his hand in a hurried ‘Not ‘it’!’ motion, once he realized what the Chancellor was doing. “He’s turning this into a personal contest between J’ok Rag’naRok and Diana Hunter!” He thought, shocked by the leader’s simple logic and manipulative politicking. “Doesn’t he realize what the Rag’naRok’s are actually capable of?!” he wondered, angrily keeping his counsel to himself (although to any but the most casual observer, the visible signs of his rage were blatantly obvious: he was leaning forward in his chair, gripping the arm-rests in a death-choke, and there was much angry scowling and gnashing of teeth).
K'Vrock hadn't seen such a switch and bait done so well since he had served with a very crafty Federation Ambassador named Frost. The Chancellor was actually pitting it as Diana against J'ok? K'Vrock almost laughed at the folly of it. As if J'ok were bright enough to weave this web on his own? No he was indeed turning a blind eye to just what the Rag'NaRoks were willing to do for power.
"Then let me ask you this: after seeing that pile of targ droppings, do you really think the Rag'Naroks have ANY CHANCE of laying claim to the To'Vars power or fortune? Do you think he has the ability to command a woman like Diana Hunter to do his traitorous bidding?" M'Relkan looked around. "In this marriage, it will be SHE who dominates HIM! With the Rag'Naroks tied up trying to submit the will of Mistress To'Var, they will be delayed from making any move on the current reconstruction! Better yet, since Diana will have family status, she can have a hand in the Rag'Narok political process, able to supply us with information on their movements, possibly even to sow discord from WITHIN the house!"
"You speak like a dirty Romulan!" Mekh'Tar snapped.
"No one in this chamber can deny that this is true." M'Relkan said, looking around. "An opportunity has presented itself. An opportunity that will give us the advantage over the Rag'Naroks' political power. We can either take advantage of it, give the Rag'Naroks the illusion that they've won a victory here, thus lulling them into complacency, or we can cast it aside and allow them to go into hiding to scheme against us again!"
"And you're willing to sacrifice Diana in order to do so???" The old General said, staring at the Chancellor.
"She is a warrior. She knows her duty." M'Relkan folded his arms. Now, who is with me?"
Cha’riana Dk’tahg simply looked down at her notes; unwilling to give even the slightest hint of approval at what the Chancellor was proposing, but also unwilling to openly challenge the (already-decided) plans of her Chancellor.
“She is a warrior,” Rodek agreed, “not a whore. You are asking my sister to prostitute herself!”
D’eVo Dk’tahg – after a brief sigh of exasperation – politely raised his hand to speak, and then stood up (certain his meek gesture would be mistaken as a ‘yes’ vote) to address the gathering directly. “Chancellor M’relkan, esteemed Council …” he announced “I must agree with Rodek. We wouldn’t ask this of a Klingon Mistress-of-House, and I don’t think making an exception of Diana Hunter is in the Empire’s best interests. The xenophobic elements within our society will most likely only see this as a policy of appeasement. And I doubt this alone will satisfy them. It is time to unify the Empire, not further divide it by interfering in marital disputes between Houses.” With that, he gathered up his robes and sat back down; still angry, but feeling somewhat vindicated of his earlier impulsive outburst.
K'Vrock narrowed his gaze. He nodded. "House Marstoq is compelled to agree as well." K'Vrock know simply hoped Rodek would catch on to his slightly veiled support.
"I am not asking her to sleep with anyone!" M'Relkan said, exasperation evident in his voice. "I ask her simply to wed this man so that we may benefit from the political ramifications of this marriage! If I remember correctly, J'ok doesn't fancy HUMANS any more than your House Mistress would fancy HIM!"
[What is marriage without sex,] Rodek wondered, but remained silent.
"Then we shall put it to a vote!" M'Relkan was completely fed up with arguing with his council. "Keep in mind, we need to uphold tradition! The people will not abide by a non-Klingon in control of a major house! We also need this opportunity to use her against the Rag'Naroks, to thwart their plans! I ask again, who is with me?"
K'Vrock hung his head as he watched the support grow. So the Council would force this marriage, even if the marriage itself caused another war? K'Vrock needed to relay this to his father. It was time to begin a plan, for not if, but when the Rag'naRoks made their move.
Cha’riana Dk’tahg only looked up, briefly, from her PADD to gauge the crowd’s reaction to the vote. After seeing that most of the attendees were in favor of the proposal, she returned to her notes, with a brief (almost imperceptible), tsk-tsk’ing shake of her head. She tapped out a few shorthand characters onto the touchscreen, before returning her attention to the troubling Council proceedings.
D’eVo Dk’tahg, on the other hand, only stood, gathered up his notes, then turned and marched out of the Council Chamber. For all of the debate, his non-verbal display of disagreement spoke louder than any of the bellicose Klingon speeches delivered in the past hour (or the scattered, conversations currently being whispered between delegates).
Mekh'Tar kept his hand down, angrily glaring at anyone who dared to raise theirs.
In the end, the hands outnumbered the dissenters. M'Relkan nodded in satisfaction, taking great pleasure in his victory. "Very well then. By mandate of the Council, we hereby order Mistress To'Var to wed J'ok Rag'Narok, to take place immediately!"
Cha’riana Dk’tahg discreetly pressed the ‘send’ icon on her PADD, hoping that the vague message to her husband would be safe from prying eyes. After shutting off the device, she simply closed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer: for the Empire; for Diana Hunter and her House, and; for her wayward Terran son; whom she was sure was ready, able and MORE than willing to take matters into his own, ‘very capable’, hands!
*****************************
Location: Qo'Nos
Timeline: During "negotiations" for Diana's hand
Ah'Qwa tried to make sense of the latest events as he knew them regarding Diana Hunter.
Following his last meeting with her, he had returned to his ship, the IKS Quet'Zol to consider whether or not he should pursue the notion of marriage to the human woman to create a lasting alliance between their two houses, To'Var and Lorat. Ms. Hunter had given him much to think about, and in the end he'd decided that his life and that of his children would be too complicated by her presence. Upon return to the bridge to deliver his withdrawal of his proposition, he had been confronted by a mystery; the arrival of yet another Klingon vessel. This time it was the IKS Vok'Tor under command of Captain Ik'Tar.
The communications officer aboard the Vok'Tor had sent the following message and then closed the channel abruptly. "=/\= The Valkyrie and her crew are to be escorted back to Qo'Nos immediately by order of the High Council. Do not interfere in this matter. =/\="
He watched the viewscreen as the Valkyrie disappeared from site under the watchful eye of the Vok'Tor. Something in his gut twisted with the sensation of 1000 Rigelian bloodworms thrashing wildly as they devoured each other and him. 'Why.' He'd wondered then, 'would the High Council had sent for the Valkyrie in this fashion.' Despite his decision to remove himself from contention ultimately he'd decided to get to the bottom of the situation and followed the preceding two ships at a respectful distance.
Now, days later, back on Qo'Nos more had come to light due to well placed informants within the Council's walls. House Rag'Na'Rok was attempting to force the issue of Diana Hunter's wedding to a Klingon, and they had presented their own candidate, JoK Rag'NaRok. Ah'Qwa distrusted the Peh'Taq who was head of that house with every fiber of his being. It was obvious that Tk'Tok was after something bigger than the lady's hand. More than likely it amounted to gaining even more House lands and prestige to validate themselves. This was something Ah'Qwa knew well. The next question for Ah'Qwa was, What if anything, should he do about it?
*********************
Location: Vas'Krin's private office
K'Vrock looked over the message again. Why was the Council concerning itself with the affairs of a human woman, even if she was running House To'Var. Something about the whole thing seemed wrong to him.
After all, the woman had been wed to a friend of K'Vrock's father. Vas'Krin wasn't known for his subtle opinions and if he hadn't complained when Diana had taken over the house, K'Vrock stopped.
What if this was all a ploy? Even if it was, what could be done. Bah, it was tradition and the way things were handled. House Marstoq was in no position to be bidding on the hand of a woman anyway. Still K'Vrock wondered if this were being done willingly.
Vas'Krin had been concerned, and K'Vrock had rarely seen the old Klingon be sentimental about many people. When he had asked K'Vrock to check into it, he had gladly complied. After all, K'Vrock knew as soon as the old targ was better, the sooner he could get back to the life he had enjoyed before the damnable civil war had brought him home.
K'Vrock decided perhaps it best to see who else he might ally with. Perhaps his father was not alone in questioning this matter. So K'Vrock would honor his father's wish and represent the house at this
wedding.
************************
Location: Council chambers
As M'Relkan entered the room, the whole council stood to render the traditional respects to the Chancellor. M'Relkan motioned as he took his seat, and the council followed suit. He was pleased to see that the Rag'na'Roks and the To'Vars were already present.
Clearing his throat, the Chancellor spoke. "Diana Hunter of the House To'Var..... step forward."
Diana had been expecting something like this. She walked forward slowly, with her head held high. Warriors stepped aside, and allowed her to pass. She was graceful and regal. There was no sign of the trepidation she felt within.
"Your house has faithfully served the Empire without fail and the actions of the IKV Valkyrie on the day of the Honor Blade Battle do nothing but credit that esteemed tradition." As the Chancellor spoke, Mekh'Tar gave Diana a small smile and a wink.
Diana smiled back. He looked fatherly standing up front, beside the Chancellor. It was a simple gesture by a great warrior. Mekh’Tar was venerated for both his military tactics, and his personal code of honor. [Things can’t have gone too far south, if the general were involved,] she thought.
"Therefore, in recognition of the Valkyrie's pivotal role in the battle, I do hereby present your house the Order of the Bloodstone." M'Relkan gestured and two members of the Imperial Guard stepped forward with a blood-red stone set in a bladed, subdued steel cradle. The stone glittered in the light, matching the consistency of fresh spilt blood. He continued to speak as the warriors placed the object in Diana's hands. "This stone was mined from the ancestral home province of Kahless. Legends say that he wore one to every battle, and that all of his lieutenants carried a similar stone around their necks. This was to signify their blood oaths as warriors to be loyal to their cause, and more importantly, to each other. Let this stone be granted to your House, and all your descendants, as a symbol of the allegiance you have shown the Empire through your valorous actions. Honor be upon you."
"FOR THE BLOOD WE SPILL TOGETHER!!" The warriors of the Imperial Guard roared. Dust shook from the rafters at the power of their voices. However, the actual council members themselves stayed eerily silent. The expressions on their faces were steely, eyeing Diana with disdain rather than admiration for the actions of her house.
When Diana first assumed her role as head of house, she sent one of her brother-in-laws to represent the house at council. Back then, she wasn’t ready to face an entire hall full of warriors who hated and resented her, for no other reason than she was human--a human with Klingon land, a ship, and most of all, a title. She re-established House To’var as her husband wished. She now had more land, several ships, and a title that mattered. Members of the council had been very supportive of her efforts, and she was happy to give to her adopted (Klingon) homeworld. Still, Klingons who didn’t know her, resented her. [So why then, had things changed?] she wondered.
Diana bowed and said, “Thank you, Excellency, members of the Council, but my family, my crew, only did their duty, they only did what any true Klingon would have done under the same circumstances.”
M'Relkan nodded, smiling broadly as he drew in a breath for his next announcement.
Mekh'Tar's face turned from one of grandfatherly affection to foreboding.
"Diana, Mistress of House To'Var, many suns ago, you promised to this council that you would take a Klingon mate of proper breeding and stature to make legitimate your claim to House leadership. You will be pleased to know that the council has finally chosen a mate for you." M'Relkan motioned for J'ok to approach.
Diana thought about mentioning that she still had three months to make good on that promise, but it might embarrass some of the council members, and they would make impressive enemies--better not to anger anyone, today anyway. Besides, what was the point. She’d given her word, and she’d come up empty. “With my looks and personality, that couldn’t have been easy,” Diana quipped. There was some scattered and good-natured laughter within the double-vaulted audience chamber, but Rodek, she noticed, was not laughing.
J’ok Rag’naRoK paced, uncomfortably, inside the tight, enclosed social circle of Captain Tk’toK Rag’naRok, Lurra Dk’tahg, and the official entourage of House Guards. While he would shoot Diana Hunter the occasional murderous glance (along with any number of random faces in the crowd), he mostly kept his gaze on the floor; nervously passing the time until his official introduction. It had been several days since he was able to indulge in some of his infamous acts of violence, and the stress of this particular predicament was starting to show, no matter how fierce or stoic he tried looking. While he treaded the same circular path in the carpet, J’ok would occasionally, unconsciously, trace a pattern over his tunic, right over the area of his heart and lungs; all but physically touching the scar tissue on his chest with his bare hands. But when Diana made her offhand joke, his head snapped up – like a wild dog smelling freshly spilled blood – and he fixed his stare directly at the human female, focusing every bit of bloodthirsty intent and hatred, directly at her.
Captain Tk’toK Rag’naRoK noticed his test subject’s sudden regression to his true self, and stepped forward to intervene. “You will do well to remember the glory and honors you will receive from this union!” Tk’tok gruffly reminded the younger Klingon. As J’ok only turned and snarled up at the superior officer (refocusing his bloodlust in the nearest convenient direction) in response, the Captain leaned in close, whispering; “And you shouldn’t forget the consequences, if you fail.” As he said this, he patted a small bulge in his vest, barely noticeable under the thick cloak he was wearing. Tk’toK then turned away from his ‘human-bait’ and watched the proceedings, no trace of malice or foreboding on his expression, as if the exchange never took place at all.
Lurra Dk’tahg – deep inside the closed ranks of the Rag’naRok clique – watched as the Lieutenant grew increasingly agitated, and as the Captain’s control over the situation slid further and further out of his reach. While she watched these proceedings with a certain amount of practiced (and phony) concern, in her mind she was already plotting her next counter-move. “Those two …” she thought, making no move, or saying anything in her Captain’s behalf “will probably kill each other before I have to do ANYTHING.”
"This is J'ok Rag'Narok." M'Relkan spoke as if advertising a used shuttle. "He is a fine warrior, and has earned many honors on the field of battle. He is from a respectable family, and is of the proper status to deserve your hand."
"The Pe'Taq is really trying to sell this...." Mekh'Tar muttered to Rodek.
Rodek merely nodded. If he weren’t married already, he might have married her. She was good to his son, Barth, sending him to the best schools and helping in his training. She wasn’t bad; but the words she said in anger, had bad consequences. J’ok Rag’na’rok was an animal, with an animal’s urges. He was built like a tank; born and bred to kill. How could she, or the House, survive J’ok’s ‘leadership?’
There were a few telltale signs that J’ok was not all that good a deal--even as a used shuttle. His skin was purplish and shiny because he wasn’t accustomed to bathing, and had to be scrubbed clean. The nervous and hateful way he kept looking at his uncle. But most telling of all, was the way he set off all her internal alarms. The hair on the back of her neck stood up; it was as if, all the valkrie, of all the ages, were screaming, ‘No!’
J’ok stepped forward, proudly; his military training and twisted version of ‘duty’ erasing every visible trace of his nervousness and suppressed berserker rage. He said nothing, leaving the glad-handing and salesmanship to others. Although he flashed a brilliant, wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing smile at Diana Hunter, he remained silent - looking like a prize, Orion-bred slave on the auction block. Or, like somebody in possession of a terrible, wonderful secret; the kind that wouldn’t be revealed until it was far too late …
Captain Rag’naRoK stood back during the presentation, also choosing to remain silent. His swollen chest and broad, proud smile said more than enough about his unique solution to Diana Hunter’s marital troubles, and he, apparently felt no need to say anything more. Of course, the familial overconfidence on display was nothing more than his happiness over the success of ‘his’ mission. “These fools have NO idea what’s really going on – this was a brilliant idea!” the Captain thought, using every bit of self-control not to begin laughing …
Commander Lurra Dk’tahg stepped back, trying to blend out of sight amongst the foreboding wall of black body armor behind her. She was still convinced that the crowd was going to turn against the Rag’naRok’s. Lurra believed, from the start, that the Chancellor and Council would see right through Captain Tk’tok’s obvious power-play-disguised-as-sincere-‘concern’ about House ToVar’s honor and reputation. And, given that this was strictly a Klingon affair, she was more than certain that the reaction to the Rag’naRok’s lies and manipulations would turn violent, if not deadly. “And when that happens, I need to be able to mount a ‘tactical retreat.’” Suppressing a tiny shudder at the thought of actually RUNNING AWAY from a potential fight, she calmed herself with a mental reminder of her duty to the Empire. When that didn’t work, Lurra Dk’tahg remembered that she was helping to restore her family name, as well as help the homeworld from erupting into another massive, free-for-all blood feud. And when that no longer helped, she only had to think about the consequences for the Rag’naRok’s; “when they finally do get caught at their little game.” Thinking about the shame and disgrace the despicable hive of bloodworms would suffer, not to mention the summary tortures and executions … when Lurra realized this, she found the sudden need to suppress a stubborn, impetuous smile of her own.
*****************************
Location: Initial location; The IKV Bloodline (House Rag’naRok); crew quarters …
Timeline: After the Rag’naRok’s meeting with the Klingon Chancellor / High Council
J’oK Rag’naRok stood in front of his comm. panel; cleaned, dressed, and freshly schooled in the finer points of human etiquette (“Don’t yell at your date, unless absolutely necessary … humans don’t appreciate raw meat the way we do”, etc.) A one-way, holographic test pattern scrolled down in front of his eyes, and Captain Rag’naRoK stood in the corner (out of view of the audio-visual sensor). The Captain pulled a remote control unit out of his jacket pocket (the same one controlling the agonizer grafted onto Jok’s spine; and the same one also controlling the explosives in his cardiovascular system), and gave the unpowered unit’s panic button once; a not-so-subtle piece of ‘incentive’ for the young Rag’naRok’s performance.
After a brief nod from (disgraced) Lieutenant to Captain and back, the transmission began. =^= This message is for Diana ToVar, Captain of the IKS Valkyrie. I am Lieutenant … Commander … of the IKV Bloodline. =^= Obviously ignoring the low growl this drew out of Lurra Dk’tahg, he continued, in a forced-calm, groomed voice; =^= I would like to arrange a social meeting with you; where will exchange small talk and eat food. =^= After a brief glance at his off-camera ‘director’, J’ok finished: =^= Or some other suitable activity, if you wish. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. Good day. =^=
Captain Tk’tok Rag’naRoK immediately shut down the ship-to-ship message (somewhat impressed by the young man’s performance), and allowed J’oK Rag’naRok a chance to explode. J’ok tore off the dress tunic he was wearing and threw it to the ground, shrieking and quivering in dismal rage. The fading self-control evident at the end of his ‘invitation’ had now degenerated to a display of sheer animal bloodlust and chest-pounding (and impotent) threats. “I will take my time with this human … tah’Qeq! She will beg me to end her … long before I AM DONE WITH HER!!!” he began to shout, focusing his menacing glare directly at the nearest female…
Lurra Dk’tahg only returned J’oK’s bullying stare with her own calm gaze of warrior resolve and martial confidence. The only reaction to J’ok RagnaRok’s idiotic exhibition was the same low growl she uttered when he mentioned his former (and her current) rank and position, along with a neat folding of arms across her chest. “Go ahead. Fool. CHARGE ME.” She thought, more than ready for the clumsy brute, and itching for any excuse to discharge her ‘executive duties’ aboard her ship (such as severely beating – sometimes fatally - any disobedient underlings under her watch) against this ‘sad excuse for a Klingon.’
“STOP THIS! NOW.” Captain Tk’tok Rag’naRoK’s voice boomed out. “Commander: return to the bridge, and await me there. We must make our preparations for phase two. And YOU …” he paused, and with a grumpy sigh, finished “LIEUTENANT, do what you can to calm yourself. You must be ready to perform again, as soon as Diana ToVar accepts your invitation. Or would you prefer I kill you now, and simply take her House all for myself?”
While Lurra Dk’tahg only turned and started marching neatly out of the room, J’ok was still growling at the floor. Approaching the feral Klingon directly, Captain Rag’naRoK commented, gently; “Do not concern yourself with the human playacting you must suffer. As soon as you are wed and titled, you may kill the human woman at your convenience. You just need to keep it secret, of course.” As this seemed to calm the younger warrior, the Captain finished, asking; “You do remember how to keep these things secret don’t you, J’ok?” Tk’tok was determined to stay in the crew cabin as long as necessary to convince the young man, without having to kill him (“yet”). While the bad Captain had no intention of ‘giving the bastard a thing’, he knew how necessary the otherwise-useless disruptor fodder was. He was so wrapped up in comforting J’oK, he barely noticed Lurra’s hurried, efficient exit out of the room …
************************
The House Rag’naRok, A Brief History
The House Rag’naRok was one of the most vocal proponents of Klinzhai military expansion during the 23rd century. Ever since, the House has publicly voiced a bizarre, revisionist version of those events ... far different from the official recorded history, of course.
Long after it was no longer profitable or wise, the Rag’naRok clan has clamored for a return to the ‘glory days’ of the Empire … even after the course of peace was inevitable. The House has lagged far behind most of the other prominent ones in the Empire, mostly due to a slavish devotion to the old ways; preferring to hang on to outdated military equipment – along with an equally outdated view of the galaxy – while other Houses thrived from intergalactic commerce and increased contact with the outside galaxy.
In fact, the very freedoms and material gains enjoyed by the average Klingon today would not have been possible, if not for the difficult growing pains of the previous centuries. This fact seems to have been lost on the Rag’naRoks (along with a handful of other Houses), along with the memories of food shortages, intense government repression, permanent war, economic hardships, etc. The idea of a ‘golden age’ in Klingon history – attainable again through open war with the Empire’s current allies – gains popularity every so often, even though the everyday reality of this era (for billions of Klingons, not to mention their Imperial subjects) was far harsher than any of it’s proponents wish to realize.
Diminishing influence on the High Council, Emperors who were little more than figureheads, concerns about an invisible ‘alien hand’ in Klingon affairs, widespread disillusionment with traditional Klinzhai religious beliefs, etc. - all of these are viewed as rational justifications for a necessary war. The sacred battles wouldn’t only target the progressive elements within the Empire, but would eventually draw in the Federation, the Romulan Star Empire, the Cardassian Union, etc. In fact, this Klingon ‘holy war’ is often touted as a miraculous ‘cure-all’ for any and all Klingon social ills.
If such an aggressively xenophobic and reactionary group were to gain control of the Empire, the results could be disastrous for all of the major players in the Alpha & Delta quadrants, not to mention the Klingon Empire itself. The fragile status of ‘the Klingon Empire’ as a UFP member would be shattered, and the rest of the galaxy might soon find itself facing a renewed threat from Klingon space. The Empire itself could easily erupt into a full-fledged civil war … and there’s no guarantee that the winner of such a conflict would hold the Federation’s interests in mind, even as an afterthought.
Starfleet’s policy of non-involvement could very well give rise to a situation where the one galactic power capable of stemming these unfortunate events would be – diplomatically or militarily – hamstrung from acting in its own best interests, and in the interests of the Klingon people, to stop such a takeover in the first place. However, the possibility of a return to Klingon fascism is viewed by many in the intelligence community as only the faintest echo of a possibility. While there have been numerous attempts at a military takeover, or a manipulation of the various loopholes and traditions of Klingon nobility, none of these attempts have succeeded.
I would recommend increased intelligence gathering on the House, both in and out of Klingon space. There is ample evidence of the Rag’naRok’s being involved in criminal activities; under established Federation, and/or local laws.
Sincerely,
Admiral Leonard C. Daylek - USS Katana
************************
Location: Qo’Nos; The Great Hall of the High Imperial Council, reception area
Timeline: Just after the Rag’naRok’s meeting with Chancellor M’relkan and the High Council; before D’eVo (Calvin) goes back to the Axel to recruit from the crew
D’eVo Dk’tahg stormed out of the Council chambers; pulling off the Dk’tahg emblazoned ceremonial robes as the door closed behind him. The robes, a traditional garment going back to the earliest days of the Klinzhai planetary democracy, were now as cumbersome and pointless as the meeting D’eVo just had to suffer through.
In the first days of the fledgling Klinzhai republic, weapons were banned in the Council Halls and Chancellor’s chambers. In response, Klingon politicians started wearing thick, obscuring cloaks, in order to hide small hand-weapons; blades, clubs, even firearms (projectile guns or the newest novelty energy pistols). If the meeting wasn’t proceeding in their favor, they would simply reach into their clothes, pull out the handiest weapon, and physically silence their opposition, right on the Council floor. If there was a sufficient enough majority to oppose the Chancellor, it wasn’t unheard of for a gang of Councilors and their supporters to bum-rush the head of the table, forcing a change of administration right there and then. This sort of ‘instant democracy’, of course, caused many more problems than it solved, and soon it was apparent that certain changes in Klinzhai ‘parliamentary procedure’ were sorely needed. For some time, it was required that all visitors and members of the Council were to openly display, and later relinquish, any and all weapons in the pursuit of official government business. After a time, with the advent of Imperial and House bodyguards and official ‘keepers’, along with improvements in weapons scanning and suppression technologies, the need for a toothless council was discarded. And the robes came back; a recognition of those dark days, as well as a subtle reminder of how fragile power was, even in the relatively peaceful and modern Klingon executive democracy. While the executions and bloody promotions still common in the military services went unchecked (and were even accepted, either officially or otherwise, amongst the ruling elite), the Klingon High Council - at least on the surface - attempted to maintain some, galactically accepted, form of decorum.
As D’eVo stared down at the pile of thick black fabric – outlined with purple and silver trim, the magenta House crest staring back up at him like Kahless’ eye – he suddenly became very nostalgic for the days of Klingon ‘direct democracy.’ “I had the high ground; hell with a tripod and a decent biosigns scope, I could’ve ended the meeting half-an-hour ago!” Shaking away the comforting – if completely unrealistic – thought, he adjusted his leather vest and honor sash, and bent down to gather up his robes.
His ceremonial garment balled up and stuffed under the crook of one arm, D’eVo approached the guard station to his left. The station, manned by two very bored looking male security guards, contained a small desk and chair on a raised platform, along with a data terminal, and small, two-person transporter pad behind it. As he shuffled forward (moving somewhat awkwardly), the ‘superior’ officer (neither one carried any noticeable rank insignia) sitting behind the desk, looked up from his newsfeeds, and gruffly asked;
“What do YOU want?!” (“Q’pla?!”)
“I need transport off world …” D’eVo replied, producing the necessary clearance codes and ID card. As the clerk began checking him through, the system generated a ‘hold’ alert, and he looked up at the visiting dignitary: “Wait here. Apparently someone on the Council wants to talk to you.” In response to D’eVo’s surprised, and annoyed, expression, the guard politely added: “That’s all for now. Go away.”
As D’eVo started to head back towards the Council chambers, the doors suddenly opened, revealing a very concerned-looking, hurried Cha’riana Dk’tahg.
As D’eVo started to head back towards the Council chambers, the doors suddenly opened, revealing a very concerned-looking, hurried Cha’riana Dk’tahg.
“We need to talk!” she commanded, before D’eVo (Calvin) himself even had a chance to speak … D’eVo, for his part, simply stood by and let the woman say her piece.
“You have been chosen to attend the ‘bachelor party’ for J’ok Rag’naRok, as a representative of House Dk’tahg” the matriarch stated, flatly. Ignoring the shocked expression of her Terran son, she continued; “In serving our duty to House and Empire, we all have to do unpleasant things, from time to time.” After stating this obvious bit of advice, she added, slyly; “Of course, the situation might not be without it’s … ‘benefits’.”
Calvin (D’eVo) was actually speechless in response. The audacity of the Rag’naRok’s proposal, combined with the Council’s begrudging acceptance of it, along with the Chancellor’s apparent cheerleading - all of these things had already set Cal on edge; the ridiculous family obligation he was being asked now to perform … well, it was all getting to be just too much. He raised his hand and cleared his throat, getting ready to object, when the image and sensation of driving a painstick, repeatedly, into J’ok Rag’naRok’s face overtook his thoughts. Immediately seeing the older woman’s point, he dropped his hands to his sides and growled; “I’ll see what I can do.”
Abruptly changing the subject, Cha’riana then asked; “So, according to your last message – which was over TWO MONTHS AGO – you and Thedaius are an item again …”
Uncertain as how to proceed, she simply asked, “Is there anything else you would like to tell me?” Before giving him even a chance to process what he just heard, she covered herself; “It doesn’t matter, at the moment. You have other ‘family duties’ right now. We will discuss other matters when this is over.”
Calvin would’ve normally been very suspicious of such a drastic change in subject, especially during such troubling times as this. But, the woman speaking to him was family, a woman who raised him as her own for the first 13 years of his life, and continued to care for him to this day. As such, he just chalked it up to the typical, nervous small talk amongst family members during times of crisis (trying to maintain the pleasant familial bonds even when they are threatened). Given the looming situation, Cal didn’t catch any of his Klingon godmother’s hints about Daius, assuming that “like most Klingon mothers, she probably just misses getting to micromanage every last detail of my life!” Although, he knew enough about Klingon mothers, especially those serving as Head-of-House, not to echo this thought out-loud. Calvin (D’eVo) wouldn’t shy away from hurling insults, threats and curses at Starfleet Admirals, Klingon captains, or galactic pirates, STILL knew better than to cross ‘Mom’!
Char’iana Dk’tahg, watched as D’eVo beamed out, concerned about how her ‘son’ would serve the family honor, as any proud Klingon mother would.
As she waited, her thoughts turned to the related subject of family RESPONSIBILITY. She coolly turned away from the guards politely ignoring her, and pulled out her personal miniframe from a vest pocket.
After turning the device on and selecting an appropriate comm. application, she began to type out a message: =^= Thedaius, I hope the day finds you well. I have reason to believe you have not told Calvin what you have told me. You MUST do this! Perhaps it is best not to burden him with this at the moment, but …Either way, If you don’t tell him before he leaves Klingon space, I WILL. Q’pla! And Jol’anTru Cha’riana Dk’tahg =^=
Cha’riana Dk’tahg then pressed ‘Send’ on the device’s touch-screen, and powered it down, without even waiting for Thedaius’ response. As she turned and headed back into the Council chambers – pocketing the handheld device – her heart was heavy with the burden of the two women’s shared secret. But, never one to ignore her motherly duties, Cha’riana had no second thoughts about interfering in the lives of her children ‘only when it’s necessary.’
---------
Location: The Klingon side of the Kling/Romulan demilitarized Neutral Zone; the bridge of the IKX Jagged Blade
Timeline: During the tail-end of the [High Council / Rag’naRok, etc.] meeting
Brigadier General Z’ox Dk’tahg lazily watched the chain of explosions on the forward viewscreen, slumped in his command chair even as his crew scurried about the bridge around him; checking energy levels and output readings, re-calibrating equipment, etc.
The experiment was a resounding success, but even as he watched the asteroid field light up in bursts of bluish, blinding white flashes, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of … boredom. The crew had been listless and unmotivated ever since they had been stationed on their current babysitting mission. The recent field tests of the subspace-quantum mines apparently re-energized their purpose and focus; it seemed like everyone on his medium-sized battlecruiser was excited about the task-at-hand … everyone but the ship’s ‘captain.’
The Jagged Blade, her crew, and most importantly, her commander, were dispatched to this dismal corner of the demilitarized Neutral Zone shortly after the ‘civil disturbance’ on Qo’Nos – no doubt a politically motivated posting; designed to keep the Dk’tahg fleet far away from the homeworld, and out of the public eye as much as possible (given the Klingon populace’s unfortunate tendency to start blood feuds; often on nothing more than gossip and anecdote).
The once hotly-contested Neutral Zone was now, at worst, an administrative nightmare, but was no longer a massive gap in the Empire’s galactic security fence. The DMZ still had the Romulan Star Empire on one side, with the Federation on the other, and officially designated Klingon space smack dab in the middle. Now, the area was routinely crossed, in all directions, by Klingon, Romulan and Starfleet vessels, in relatively equal numbers and frequency; along with any of the other spacefaring species in the ‘big, happy family’ of the early 25th century, Federation-united Alpha Quadrant. So, aside from the occasional smuggler, unidentified alien craft, or ‘boring stellar phenomenon’, there really wasn’t anything of value to guard or protect in the vast, relatively empty area of deep-space. To further underscore the completely unnecessary nature of their presence was a floating net of cloaked and uncloaked sensor satellites and interstellar buoys keeping a constant set of dozens of electric eyes and ears on the sector (for any and all interested parties).
Luckily, the cutting-edge Bird-of-Prey wasn’t just burning up antimatter on a pointless patrol, or yet another scientific cataloging of long-established stellar conditions. The military exercise they were currently engaged in would, no doubt, benefit the Empire’s hold on outlying territories, as well as provide a legitimate reason for their presence near one of the Zone’s many asteroid fields … All of this did nothing to take away the sting of his recent demotion, not to mention the political expediency of their ‘security patrol.’
The Brigadier’s uncomfortable reverie was broken by the low ‘moop’ from his command console; indicating a private, “Captain Only” message. Z’ox leaned forward to read the message (certain that it would only be an order from the High Command to embark on another, equally pointless, security posting) – and his mood changed instantly.
The text-only portion of the s-mail was a brief note from his wife, the esteemed Councilwoman Cha’riana Dk’tahg. The note read: “The Rag’naRok’s are planning something, AGAIN. Get back here as soon as you can!” Intrigued, Z’ox started playing the video attachment, which was a sensor log of a recent Council meeting. After watching the boring introductions and formal necessities of any executive conference, he fast-forwarded to the highlighted time-index section. Watching the scene over and over – not really believing what his own senses, and intuition, was telling him – his eyes growing wider with each pass … Brig. Gen. Z’ox Dk’tahg suddenly felt his own ‘enthusiasm’ return – with a vengeance!
“The Rag’naRok’s are trying to take over House ToVar!” he thought, his earlier suspicions now fully-formed as a completely justified cause for alarm. “Helm!” Z’ox barked, leaping out of his chair; “Plot a course for Qo’Nos, maximum warp. Engage when ready!!” Anticipating the tepid objections from his senior officers (for disobeying established orders and the chain-of-command), he added; “I’m sure they can send a RAG’NA’OK vessel out here to make sure the stars don’t change position! Follow MY orders!!!”
---------
Location: SEIKLON AXEL: Thedaius' crew-quarters, etc.
D'eVo reached out and activated the entry keypad on the wall-console outside of Thedaius' room. "Hey Daius, you still in there? It's Cal." He announced, nervously waiting for her reply. (It was at this point that Calvin [D'eVo] remembered his promise to the Axel's captain; "Should I let Korav know about this?" he wondered. "Dammit, there's not enough time … he'll find out sooner or later anyway – and besides, how is it any of his goddamn business, anyway?!" he rationalized, nervously waiting for Daius to answer the door).
"Hold your Targs, Damn!" She walked around pieces of a pet project on the floor. Sore and not really wanting to see ANYONE Daius answered the door.
"What is it now, Cal?"
As Calvin entered, he greeted Daius with a quick hug and peck on the cheek. "So, how's it going?" he asked, standing impatiently in the awkwardly small room.
"Not all that great. Nothings fitting or..... You REALLY don’t care do you?"
"I'm sorry, ar'rhea" Cal responded. Daius was now staring at him with a mixed look of concern and annoyance. "I just can't pay attention right now …" He looked directly at her and said, with a sigh; "I hate to say this AGAIN, but …"
After a brief shrug, Cal jumped right into a rambling, emotional recount of his own busy day: the Rag'naRok's were trying to force an arranged marriage, to gain control of a prominent Klingon House; they were appealing to Klinzhai racism and the people's paranoia, and; The Council, even the Chancellor himself, were actually going along with it!
"I'm going back down there, Daius. You can come with me – I could sure use the backup – or not, but I just had to let you know …" After a brief pause Calvin (D'eVo) bluntly asked her: "So what do you think? And what should WE do about it?!"
"Stop the Wedding. It’s not proper. Not that I know this Diana or anything. But I do find it odd that they want this Vermin to head a House. It’s a power grab." She started to change and felt him watching her. She stopped and sighed, she wanted to tell him her secret but now wasn't the time.
"Ok Lover where's the fire we need to put out?"
“On the homeworld, of course” D'eVo (Calvin) answered. “I believe they’re holding the actual wedding on the ToVar estate, but I don’t have the coordinates yet. They actually want me to attend the bachelor party first, so I guess we have still have time to plan as we go …” He paused, before breaking into a mischievous smile, and asked; “Are you interested in going to a Klingon bachelorette party?”
<< Daius>>
---------
Location: House To’var, Diana’s office
Diana watched the transmission without any trace of emotion, although hearing the big oaf say, “I would like to arrange a social meeting with you; or some other suitable activity, if you wish. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. Good day,” brought a small, if momentary, smile to her lips.
“You can’t,” Kira said emphatically. “You can’t possibly be thinking of entertaining that…Of allowing that filthy, ignorant, psychotic, honorless, …Ergh!” Kira shook her fists, walked across the room and punched the wall. Apparently, J’ok Rag’na’rok was so hideous that Kira, who could swear as colorfully as any member of the Imperial Navy when the situation required, couldn’t find the right word to describe him. Not being able to express herself, or stop Diana, was incredibly vexing, and she punched the wall again for good measure. This time, a powdery plaster cloud was released by her efforts.
“Filthy?” Diana teased her sister-in-law and friend. “Looks like someone went to a lot of effort to clean him up. I wonder who, and for what purpose?”
Kira knew a directive when she heard one. “It has to be that son of a tarq, Tk’tok Rag’na’rok, but how he plans to use your assets and title to further his ambition…I’ll find out within the hour,” the former Intel Officer swore.
“You know how I hate that expression,” Diana said softly. “For all we know, his mother is a perfectly honorable woman, who is even more disappointed in him than we are. As for that other matter, I’ll hold you to your word.”
“I hate it when you do that,” Kira said.
“Do what?” Diana asked innocently.
“Go calm, when you should be upset,” Kira answered. “Next, you’ll have thought this through from a thousand different angles, and picked the solution with the least amount of fighting and blood. It’s not a very Klingon quality.”
“But, it has kept us alive so far,” Diana said. “And, it was a Klingon captain who taught me to be cool when the blood of other warriors runs hot. Even warriors make mistakes when angry, and mistakes have terrible consequences.” Before Kira left the office, Diana said, “Acknowledge the Rag’na’rok’s request and make the necessary arrangements.”
“Of course,” Kira said evenly, “but I think it’s a mistake.”
*****************************
Location: House To’var
“You’re not honestly going to leave the house looking like that, are you?” Kira wanted to know.
Diana was dressed in a backless, floor-length, red sequin, halter-top dress, matching high heels and silver ‘slave’ bracelets. The silver valkrie necklace around her delicate neck as always.
“That outfit makes you look skinny and pathetic,” Kira said.
“This outfit would be customary attire for a date back on earth,” Diana started to explain.
“You are no longer on earth,” Kira said sullenly.
“Think about it, Kira,” Diana told her sister-in-law, “If I wasn’t Klingon enough dressed in full body armor, then this outfit has got to be a real turn-off. I’ll be in compliance with the council’s directive, and with any luck, J’ok will call this whole thing off.. At the very least, he may let slip who’s yanking his chain.”
Kira smiled, and picked up a hairbrush, “Let me help with your hair and makeup. Those braids have got to go.” She gathered up Diana’s hair, saying, “How about an elaborate updo?”
“Let’s go with a chignon; and the less makeup, the better,” Diana told Kira. “I’d look like a baboon’s butt, if I wore as much makeup as most Klingon women do.”
“I thought you wanted to scare him away,” Kira said, as she rolled Diana’s hair around a foam rod, and used hair pins to keep it in place.
“True, but I don’t want the media to get a picture of me like that. I’d never be able to live it down,” Diana replied.
“How’s that?” Kira turned Diana around to look at herself in the mirror.
“Perfect!” Diana said.
“I’d like to see the expression on J’ok’s face when the two of you meet later tonight,” Kira said.
“You get to,” Diana said.
“I do?”
“Absolutely,” Diana said. “I want four bodyguards around me at all times. It’s bad enough that I won’t be carrying weapons; I will not be completely defenseless.”
Kira stood back to admire her handiwork. Diana’s eyelashes looked a little longer, her cheeks a little rosier. “You look very … human,” Kira said.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Diana smiled. “Just one more thing--flowery perfume.”
Initial Location: site-to-site teleport from house To’var to the Klingon Repertory Theater
Kira passed out house emblems, and had everyone pin one on. “The blue stones worked into the silver pattern, are actually locators. At the first sign of trouble, we beam out. That means you too, Diana, even if I must drag you with me.”
Diana looked around, she’d selected Kira, Klag (from the Cromwell), Rodek (a family member they were already familiar with), and Kang (her new QaqS’Devwl) for her escorts. “Ready, or not,” she sighed, “energize.”
There was the tickly sensation you might feel on a roller coaster, as the computer disassembled them molecule by molecule, and re-assembled them at their destination--the Klingon Repertory Theater. Tonight’s play: Othello. Diana whispered in Kira’s ear, “I want to see J’ok’s expression when the leading lady is killed.”
The theater reminded Diana of a Roman Catholic church with it’s marble pillars, painted ceilings, and wooden beams; except it was scenes from Shakespeare, not the bible on the ceiling, and the beams were carved to resemble huge bat’leths. There was a stone floor, ornate light fixtures and theater posters displayed on the walls.
Captain Tk’tok, and Lieutenant J’ok Rag’naRok beamed into the massive, domed space, each dressed in their finest ceremonial robes and armor. They were accompanied by – the stunningly lovely - Lt. Commander Lurra Dk’tahg, the Captain’s ‘date’ for this occasion.
The Bloodline’s command crew, assembled in the theatre as a mere social party, fit right into the crowd of esteemed, well-connected, and equally well-dressed Klingon high society.
The group stood in a rough semicircle for a few moments, carrying on a private conversation (not unlike the couples, families, and small groups of friends currently milling around them). As innocent as the conversation seemed, the low, hushed words - spoken in a perplexing blend of Galactic Alpha-Standard and Old Klingon – actually consisted of a reminder (to J’ok, from the Captain) that Tk’tok would be keeping a close watch on everything the young man said or did. This warning was punctuated by a short series of bloody warnings from the female, along with an announcement from Captain Rag’naRok about an upcoming field test of the surveillance equipment trained, and installed on the ‘warrior of dating.’
After a few seconds of their quiet chat, the group split up, with J’ok Rag’naRok heading away from his superiors, while they watched him walk away. J’ok made a beeline for a shock of blonde hair in the gathering (standing out from the sea of brown, black, and red Klingon manes; along with the occasional shaved head). As he marched towards his prey, the Lieutenant stopped for a moment, and appeared to be scratching his right ear. Unknown to those around him, J’ok was actually adjusting the miniature two-transceiver buried deep in his ear canal. After he finished the adjustment, he pressed on through the crowd.
“It’s nice to see you again, too,” Diana said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of making dinner reservations for us. I thought, if we saw the play before dinner, we’d have something to talk about.”
J’ok Rag’naRok glared down in bemused disgust, as if the human woman was some sort of chattering insect. The expression disappeared instantly, and he began to regard Diana for what she truly was (“A meal ticket and path to glory.” He reminded himself) “Ah yes, perhaps we can discuss how our ‘business arrangement’ might suit both our Houses.”
“If you wanted to discuss money,” Diana said smiling, “you should have asked my Ferengi accountant for a date.”
“Not so fast, you sloppy oaf!” screamed the voice in J’ok’s ears; reminding him of the mission’s delicate nature. The voice of Captain Rag’naRok then instructed; “Comment on her clothing, make sure it is an agreeable statement.”
J’ok then proceeded to jab a finger at Diana’s fancy dress, saying; “Your clothing is attractive and feminine.” (“That’s better” Tk’tok commented, still keeping a close watch on the situation).
“Do you like it?” Diana asked, as she picked up some of the pretty fabric and turned side-to-side. “I haven’t been on a date for six years, and never here on Quo’Nos. I wasn’t sure what to wear.”
After a few seconds of dumfounded, open-mouthed silence from J’ok (“Say SOMETHING, idiot!” the Captain prodded, adding; “Agree with her choice in clothing. And say something about her physical qualities – perhaps her eyes?”), he responded. “It is certainly a fine piece of fabric, and you seem to have no problem fitting into it. And your eyes are … very round and shiny.”
“Thank you,” Diana replied. Changing the subject, she asked, “Do you enjoy Shakespeare?”
“qaDelmeH bov tuj pem vIlo'choHQo'?
” (“Shall I compare thee to a summer day?”) J’ok replied, coolly (his sudden, unprompted rush of charm surprising even himself). “Aahhh, yes … “Now there was a human who truly understood the Klingon heart.” Of course, he was lying through his teeth: he despised human culture as hopelessly weak and useless as most humans were. While he had no use for the theatre, or any of the enjoyable diversions that most sentient beings indulged in, he had been coached far too well to admit that - “at least to this pasty, sickening … Terran” he thought.
“Then you’re familiar with the story,” Diana said. “What is your favorite part?”
“A good question, my lady” he responded (the lecherous, wolf-in-grandma’s nightgown grin contrasting bizarrely against his groomed – if forced – demeanor). J’ok then paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. In reality, he was waiting for the next auditory clue from his ‘Captain.’ When the nagging voice in his ear offered fell silent, J’ok Rag’naRok plowed on, all-too-sure of himself – in the presence of such a clearly inferior species. “Like all Shakespeare plays, I enjoy the parts where those without honor are punished, often brutally.” He then leveled his gaze at the human woman; an expression that could’ve been viewed as mere polite interest, if it wasn’t for the harshness of his stare, and the implied, thinly-veiled threat in his voice.
“I like when the villain is broken, and the hero resigned,” she replied, “then Othello condemns Iago, but will not let another take his own life. ‘I did not love unwisely, but too well.’ It’s one of my favorite quotes.”
“Cowards die many times before their deaths, the valiant never taste of death but once."
After this inscrutable offering, J’oK found himself staring off into space, reveling in another one of his – increasingly common – fantasies of blood-spilling and cruel domination. He then brusquely returned to the conversation, bluntly asking Diana; “So, what of your betrothal to Tarok?” he blurted. J’ok Rag’naRok didn’t have the social grace of a well bred Klingon, much less a barbaric human ‘being.’ And the strain of trying to act like he did was beginning to make him impatient (and it was starting to show).
“I don’t know why Ta’rok captured my heart,” Diana answered honestly, “I only know that from the moment I first saw him, I loved him. Everything I did, I did to bring us closer. Every decision I made, I did what I thought Ta’rok would approve of. I would rather live in his shadow, than have another man make me the center of his life. So tell me, did I love unwisely, or too well?”
J’ok released a ‘thoughtful’ sigh (while thinking “Bah! Do ALL human women chatter on this endlessly?!”) before changing the subject. “So, I believe the first act should be starting soon …” As he focused his direction towards the stage below, he began to desperately wish for the right answer – or at least Captain Rag’naRok’s sage advice – right now.
“Have you ever loved anyone before?” she asked J’ok.
J’ok Rag’naRok stared deeply into Diana’s eyes, saying nothing. The expression completely lacked any tenderness, romance, or even universal humanoid feelings. After this eerie pause, he spoke (his voice dropping several octaves): “Of course, I have, uh, befriended many … Imperial courtesans and sisters-in-battle …” His voice trailed off, and he turned back away to glare at the stage. He couldn’t answer the question, at least not to the ‘pink-skin thing’s’ satisfaction …
It was an excellent performance, and the audience settled in to enjoy the play. During intermission Diana excused herself, and because Kira was the only female bodyguard, she was the one to follow Diana into the ‘Ladies Room.’ The room was dimly lit by candles, with heavy drapes over the windows. The furniture was heavy enough to deter most female Klingons from throwing the carved wooden benches, but one mirror was cracked where a jealous woman had beat her rival’s head into the glass. After checking for any possible threats, Kira started to pace, as Diana freshened up. “Since when do you care about makeup?” she asked.
“This is a special evening,” Diana replied.
“Like hell it is,” Kira cut her off. “You’re up to something.”
Diana was sitting in front of a vanity mirror, applying lipstick. “I’m being disarmingly charming,” she said.
Kira leaned over, and said, “You are behaving like the worst kind of human female. Are you hoping he’ll change his mind? Because, if you looked like a baboon’s butt, and acted like a Romulan daggerback, he would still marry you.”
“It’s the money, isn’t it,” Diana said dispassionately, while putting away the lipstick in her small glittery purse.
“Duh,” Kira quickly double checked that they were alone. “If you can’t tell me what you’re up to, at least tell me what he was like.”
“Who?”
“The human you fell in love with,” Kira whispered. “What was it like?”
Diana sat very still for a moment. She had looked into Mac’s eyes and seen their grandchildren. She didn’t have to play down that she was a warrior, or pretend that her conscience didn’t nag at her. He was a kindred spirit, and all she ever had to be was herself. It had felt like love at the time, but where was love now?
*****************************
Location: House Marstoq Compound
K'Vrock sat at his injured fathers side. Vas'Krin was looking a bit better these past few days, but K'Vrock was reluctant to tell him the details of the Council's meeting.
"So they have made a play for the hand of Diana? Well those cursed Rag'Na'Rok are not to be trusted. J'ok? Bah, K'Vrock you would make a better suitor."
K'Vrock nodded solemnly. "However there may be allies to be had in this particular matter. Several of the houses seemed....troubled by the nature of this vote. Of course we can work quietly or be open about it, the choice remains your's Father."
Vas'Krin settled his eyes upon his son. "There was a time when I would have simply killed J'ok. Alas even Klingon politics have changed. No, if we are to undermine this marriage it will have to be done with the
trickery and vile tactics that the Romulans prefer. "
"The To'Var are a noble house and allies of Marstoq for many generations. Diana is no fool, and certainly not one to be easily dominated, but these fool Rag'Na'Rok they are something altogether different. They have no honor. As for Humans, bah. The Council had no problem with Garil raising Thorn after his parents passed, and he isn't even part Klingon."
Vas'Krin looked far away and then back to his son. "We should find my adopted nephew. Thorn would be able to handle some of the dirty work here without any shame to our house. " Vas'Krin eyed K'Vrock
carefully. "And you should make mention to some of the others of our...displeasure. Perhaps we are not alone in our desire to stop this marriage."
K'Vrock cringed inside at the mention of his adopted cousin. Steven Christopher Thorn was a former Starfleet Marine. A very well trained, battle hardened and vicious man. The sort that when told to kill, he
killed. Without question or conscience. If his father was thinking along those lines, then he did want this marriage stopped. In any way possible.
K'Vrock rose slowly. "I will make haste and tell the others." At the rise of his Father's brow, "Only that we seek to end this nonsense before the Rag'Na'Rok begin some sort of power play that ends in yet another civil war."
Vas'Krin smiled. "Engineering was not your true calling my son. You have the mind of a diplomat."
*********************
Location: Klingon Repertory Theater
Ah'Qwa watched the performance intently. Not the one on stage...he never cared for Shakespeare, but the one being played out by Diana and J'ok. By the look of it, the performance on stage was better. He couldn't imagine that anyone was buying J'ok as an appropriate consort for this lady, or that she would actually entertain such an idea. 'This story needs some work.' He mused.
The other play (a power-play) had not yet officially started. That was why he watched and waited. Ah'Qwa was near certain that the Rag'NaRok's would attempt something, a power grab at House Tovar most likely through violence rather than matrimony. The merging of these two Houses was not in the best interests of his own House. The only thing that he could do was be prepared. To get close enough to Diana and advise her of caution was folly. The woman was not stupid. She would be watching her own back as well as having people in place to do the same. If he were to approach her directly, it would be an insult to her intelligence.
Ah'Qwa refused to let the stage performance distract him. The raucous shouts of encouragement from the crowd to the actors, the smashing of steins, and the occasional head-butting kept him from hearing anything of the conversation from this distance. J'ok, however, appeared to be ineptly handling the nuances of courtship.
Simultaneously he attempted to track each of the members of the crew of the IKS Bloodline that had accompanied J'ok. This was proving much more difficult. Tk'Tok was a singular individual and easily picked out in the crowd. He appeared to be speaking to an aide or someone in his company at times, while at others he appeared to be speaking to someone...else. Ah'Qwa was curious about the unusual appearance, so as moved in a circumnavigation of the couple, he kept one wary eye on the older man. After a few moments Ah'Qwa formulated a hypothesis that Tk'Tok was actually feeding lines to J'ok from across the room via some sort of inconspicuous transmitter. The bumbling fool needs someone to puppeteer for him! This brought to mind yet another play of which Ah'Qwa was not fond...Cyrano de Bergerac.
As Othello reached the climactic moment of Desdemona's death in brutal fashion, Ah'Qwa determined that his watch was over. Though many of the Rag'NaRok's activities seemed suspicious, nothing that was happening here looked as though it was going to come to a finale of like intensity.
*****************************
House Rag'Na'Rok
& House To'var
cordially invite you to attend
the alliance of these two great houses.
A pact to be sealed
by both blood and marriage.
Lt. J'ok Rag'Na'Rok
to wed
Mistress Diana To'var
Thankgiving
November 2408
R.S.V.P.
*********************
Ah'Qwa opened the personal communiqué that awaited him on the terminal in his "Ready Room" aboard the Quet'Zol. He scanned it briefly to determine it's contents and then leaned forward and grabbed the monitor pulling it closer as though by doing so he could glean every ounce of information out of the words it held.
"A wedding!" He bellowed. "Between Diana Hunter and J'ok Rag'naRok?" He could barely believe his eyes. "This is insanity! What is the council thinking? How can they possibly believe that this is best for either House To'var or the Empire? Why did she agree to such a travesty of justice?" Each question had been voiced loudly and forcefully, despite the fact that Ah'Qwa was alone in the room. The final insult was that the invitation had been sent by the Rag'naRoks, themselves "Bah!" Ah'qwa yelled. Next, he tore the monitor from the table and pitched it at the wall across from his desk. .
The foreknowledge of the event had done nothing to alleviate the aggravation that Ah'Qwa felt. True, he had opted out (or at least had planned to) on his own plans to marry Diana; still, he could not see anyway that this could go well. Something was definitely amiss about this whole affair. In his warriors heart he knew this invitation was meant as a personal challenge. Tk'Tok Rag'naRok meant for him to witness something. Why did he feel that it was more than just a wedding?
"M'Leet!" He called after opening a channel to his first officer with his personal communicator.
"Yes, Captain?" The dutiful officer responded quickly.
"I will be leaving the Quet'Zol again and returning to Qo'Nos. The ship is yours until my return. I have some personal business to attend that cannot be delegated."
"By your command." M'Leet responded. He knew better than to question his captain, and relished the opportunity to take the center seat for as long as his lord would allow. The sound the fist striking his chest indicated that, though he couldn't be seen, he saluted his captain.
Ah'Qwa stormed across the room and picked up the monitor. Klingon technology was made to withstand tantrums, so the back-up memory still held the invitation on the detached monitor. "I will be there" He growled menacingly to the Rag'naRoks. "Of that you can be sure."
*********************
Name:
Kehf'ka Reshtarc
Rank/Title: Admiral
Current Assignment: Imperial Navy Border Section 384 Gamma
Position: Fleet Commander
Race: Klingon
Age:44
Sex: Male
Notes:
Admiral Kehf'ka is a veteran of numerous Klingon campaigns against both the Borg, the Dominion and the Romulans. In one Border skirmish, Kehf'ka was instrumental in destroying three Romulan warships following the death of his Commander in battle. During the recent Cardassian conflict, Kehf'ka was one of the few Klingon Commanders able to inflict appreciable casualties on well protected Cardassian commerce. Kehf'ka secured his Admiralty with a kill record that few in the fleet have equaled.
Despite Kehf'ka's continued success (or perhaps because of it), he has managed to acquire influential enemies. These have conspired to reassign Kehf'ka to a minor posting of little significance, thus curtailing
further accumulation of power. Aware of the forces against him but unable to block them, Kehf'ka has remained at his current station for over three years.
Kehf'ka is continually seeking for a means to add to his prestige, and to secure a reassignment to the Klingon home-world systems, where he can settle some old scores. Though few opportunities to gain renown exist in his sector, he hopes that his luck will change. He has unofficially encouraged trade with the Breen, turning a blind eye while his subordinates carry out commerce exchanges (at their own risk). Kehf'ka hopes to use any situation or connections to build the necessary prestige to secure his reassignment.
Kehf'ka comes to the wedding largely unannounced presumably to represent his family line which has been of greater importance in the past. His hope is that participation in small low-key, but important events, are key to solidifying his personal reputaition. If pressed on the matter, he is capable of commiting his family's resources in certain limited but effective ways.
The Reshtarc line is still a powerful and influential line, but only one of many such lines.
*********************
Location: IKS Dark Hand, Bridge
Synopsis: Kehf'ka's early thoughts on the wedding & Bio.
As they approached their destination Kehf'ka sat at one of the unused consoles in the back of the bridge of the IKS Dark Hand thinking. The crew knew to come and go, to perform their duties, and to not bother him - when he sat so. It was a good time for thought, the night watch, and the bridge was the heart of the ship.
While officially, they were bring two of the older scarred and damaged Birds in for yard repairs and upgrades, His presence was not required he had left the commander of the steel wing in charge of elements of his Frontier Fleet. He would see how the young man comported himself given the opportunity, but it wasn't often, lately, that Kehf'ka had an excuse to visit anywhere near the homeworld, so the decision had been a relatively simple one to make.
This Diana Hunter had managed to make a small name for herself in an Empire that was largely a mess, if you could call it an Empire any longer and mean it. There were Klingon worlds, there were Klingon people, there were the honored ways, the traditions, but his people had proved in recent years that they were an enemy to be feared. It was a pity they had largely become engaged in fighting amongst themselves, because Klingons were respectable foes, and they had withered away a lot of their former glory fighting amongst themselves. Still Kehf'ka had slain the last man, out of hand, that had said as much to him, on the spot.
The invitation to the wedding of the Human, Diana Hunter, though, was another matter. For one to lead a house was very rare, and for one to lead a house for very long without being executed by the house line was even more of a rarity. It bore the necessity of some looking into. To Kehf'ka, humans were a complicated and dangerous lot. She was solidifying her claims in a sense by announcing this marraige.
Khefka stood now. Well, she wasn't dead, he thought - and she had a voice in council.
"Lanar, Before we arrive. Make sure you send the standard greetings, appropriate from our house to this humans, from the bridge." He said.
"Yes Admiral" Lanar simply replied, as he left the bridge, she sent messages to the Blood Spiller and the War Axe who were accompanying the Dark Hand under cloak on their journey to Qo'noS. The venerable cruisers had seen their share of battle and were in need of more than "field repairs". While it was a remarkable source of pride that their engineering crews were able to report their status as fully combat capable, they needed some attention in the yards to continue to remain so for much longer - thus the journey home.
The Admiral intended to see that these aged vessels were upgraded appropriately, rather than scrapped as an honor to their captains and their crews. In addition, he intended to engage in a little gamesmanship, anything that would enhance the House Reshtarc would be a good thing and they had spent far too long a time on the frontier with scant supply and limited contacts. It was a time of rebuilding and forging new ties. She had brought New capital to the house via her Breen Connections and a little unsanctioned trade. The Admiral would work the political side. Something he was more adept at.
She composed their acceptance of the wedding invitation, embellishing it with words appropriate to the vaunted status of both houses and those generally expected when one house finds it's association with another to be a favorable thing. Hollow, yet fully expected words between virtual strangers in an ever changing Empire, without securing commitments in private that would fill them out a bit. Having done so she transmitted the message.
The War Axe and the Blood Spiller uncloaked as they approached the homeworld. Their confirmation that they had received her message. As they neared the outer limits of the system, Lanar ordered a tight turn along the approach. She smiled as the two birds kept the formation tight, a small but necessary step that marked the ships as competent, and there were always eyes opened in the home system that paid special attention to such trivial matters.
----Onboard the Khitomer----
"Yes sir, it's them." The tactical officer reported. "I'm picking up their transceiver signals. Their approach request has been approved by ground control."
"Showing off as always." Mekh'Tar chuckled. "Qapla, Admiral! Welcome home!" The General said. "I trust your stay on the Romulan front was uneventful?"
*********************
Name:
Lanar Reshtarc
Rank/Title: Captain
Current Assignment: Imperial Navy, IKV Dark Hand
Position: Squadron Commander
Race: Klingon
Age: 36
Sex: Female
Notes:
Though far from being a pacifistic individual, Lanar is a ship Commander who dislikes taking unnecessary risks where her ship or crew is concerned. A methodical individual capable of deep, penetrating insight, she is already in line for a promotion to the Admiralty's Operation/Planning Staff at the end of her current assignment. This anticipated promotion is due largely to payoffs funded by Lanar's clandestine cooperation with the Breen in smuggling goods across the Klingon border. She believes her superior, Admiral Kehf'ka, is unaware of this fact, and Lanar would just as well prefer Kehf'ka knew nothing about it. Lanar is afraid that something will go wrong at the last moment and spoil her chance for advancement.
Lanar has worked with Admiral Kehf'ka on the Romulan frontier for some time now. Both have developed a mutual respect for each other. Kehf'ka genuinely trusts Lanar to carry out his orders without including personal interpretations to promote personal gain. Lanar will maintain this subservience, at least until she is safely transferred away from Kehf'ka's control.
Lanar is a solid line officer, competent and determined. If forced to engage the enemy, she will carry out his orders to the best of her ability while minimizing bloodshed whenever possible. While this attitude has often brought her into conflict with other senior officers, Lanar's men recognize the efforts made on their behalf and trust her implicitly.
-----------
Lanar accompanies Admiral Kehf'ka to the wedding and commands the Dark Hand, the flagship of the Gamma Fleet which is normally stationed along the edges of the Klingon/Romulan Frontier. The Admiral heard of the wedding through family connections and decided to attend. In answering this invitation they are representing their house-line.
*********************
Location: SEIKLON AXEL; Thedaius' crew-quarters, etc.
D'eVo Dk'tahg practically leapt off the transporter pad, and began stomping his way through the cargo bay (pausing to yell "LIGHTS!" before almost tumbling to the floor). He still couldn't quite believe what the Council had approved, and was even more shocked by the realization that they were actually going to go through with it. D'eVo bolted through the cargo bay blast-doors, yelling "LIGHTS: OFF!" to the empty room, and proceeded to barrel down the hallway.
D'eVo retrieved a handheld mainframe from an inner cloak pocket (after a few seconds spent wrestling with the cumbersome, thick robes), and switched it on. It beeped once, and in response, he growled: "Computer: locate Chief Engineer; Thedaius Che'deMara." Almost instantly, a thin electronic voice replied: "Thedaius Che'deMara is in her personal quarters." He then jammed the miniframe back into the closest pocket, and kept striding towards his destination.
Along the way, his anger and confusion over the Council's decision kept gnawing at him, growing from a slight sense of uneasiness to a full-blown, paranoid rage. "Why would the Council even CARE about this? Can't they see it's just the Rag'naRok's trying to grab power for themselves?! Well, if they're going to allow this – hell, if they actually APPROVE of it, well, we're just going to have to see what we can do about it!" As he walked the few remaining meters to Daius' crew-cabin, his mind feverishly analyzed every possible outcome, and every possible consequence for his current plan of action. By the time he arrived at her door, his strategic meanderings had left him sullen and depressed … but all the more inclined to do what he felt was necessary ("for the good of the Empire…").
D'eVo reached out and activated the entry keypad on the wall-console outside of Thedaius' room. "Hey Daius, you still in there? It's Cal." He announced, nervously waiting for her reply. (It was at this point that Calvin [D'eVo] remembered his promise to the Axel's captain; "Should I let Korav know about this?" he wondered. "Dammit, there's not enough time … he'll find out sooner or later anyway – and besides, how is it any of his goddamn business, anyway?!" he rationalized, nervously waiting for Daius to answer the door).
"Hold your Targs, Damn!" She walked around pieces of a pet project on the floor. Sore and not really wanting to see ANYONE Daius answered the door.
"What is it now, Cal?"
Thedaius Che'demara answered the door (looking, to D'eVo, every bit as lovely as ever) and Calvin entered, greeting Daius with a quick hug and peck on the cheek. "So, how's it going?" he asked, standing impatiently in the awkwardly small room.
"Not all that great. Nothings fitting or..... You REALLY don’t care do you?"
Calvin (D'eVo) listened to his Lady chat on about her day, but couldn't focus on a single thing she said … He kept wavering between his preoccupation with the dirty business on the planet below, and drifting off into the Romulan woman's pale, dark beauty. Finally, he snapped out of his lovesick daze – and right back into mission mode.
"I'm sorry, ar'rhea" he interrupted (Daius had completely stopped talking by this point; staring at Calvin with a mixed look of concern and annoyance). "I just can't pay attention right now …" He looked directly at her and said, with a sigh; "I hate to say this AGAIN, but …"
After a brief shrug, Cal jumped right into a rambling, emotional recount of his own busy day: the Rag'naRok's were trying to force an arranged marriage, to gain control of a prominent Klingon House; they were appealing to Klinzhai racism and the people's paranoia, and; The Council, even the Chancellor himself, were actually going along with it!
"I'm going back down there, Daius. You can come with me – I could sure use the backup – or not, but I just had to let you know …" After a brief pause Calvin (D'eVo) bluntly asked her: "So what do you think? And what should WE do about it?!"
"Stop the Wedding. Its not proper. Not that I know this Diana or anything. But I do find it odd that they want this Vermin to head a House. Its a power grab." She started to change and felt him watching her. She stopped and sighed; she wanted to tell him her secret, but now wasn't the time.
"Ok Lover where's the fire we need to put out?"
*****************
Name: Bran Renar
Occupation:
Demolitions Expert (freelance)
Age:
34
Gender:
Male
Race:
Nomad (Angosian)
Eyes:
Green
Hair:
Brown
Skin Color:
Earth-Caucasian
Unusual features and distinguishing characteristics:
Bran Renar
possesses the stereotypically tall, lean frame of an Angosian male. Likewise, with his brown hair, green eyes and Earth-Caucasian features, he could easily blend in with the populace of his genetic homeworld (that’s where the similarities end, however). The subject does possess one interesting, and distinctive, physical characteristic, an elaborate tattoo running down from the tips of his ears, and down his neck. Similar markings have been spotted on his arms, hands, and legs, in surveillance images. At first, the simple black markings look like the racial marking of a Trill. In fact, he has been known to blend easily in with crowds of Trills, Barkonians, Ennis / Nol Ennis, etc. and other similar races - with similar markings, facial tattoos, etc. – very easily!
NOTE:
Given the somewhat ‘socially limited’ nature of my relationship to the … specimen, in question, I’m not aware of whether these markings “go all the way down (nor do I want to know!)” However, I have personally witnessed the subject’s overt willingness to display his body art, in it’s entirety, to any suitable female, regardless of species or marital status!
Overall Psychological Profile
I would say ‘misleading.’ Tall and lean, even SLIGHTLY muscular, his overall appearance and demeanor betray his strength and speed. Generations of genetically-altered ‘super soldier’ stock have seemed to build on themselves. A dangerous opponent, and a powerful ally.
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Personality:
Diplomatic (?)
Social Level:
Extrovert!
Emotional Aptitude:
Socially antisocial
Political Affiliation:
Self-centered anarchist
Religious Beliefs:
Indifferent Agnostic
Overall Psychological Profile
Bran is generally a very friendly and outgoing person. As positive and useful as these traits may be, he also seems to THOROUGHLY enjoy blowing stuff up! Another set of ‘positive’ and “useful” traits.
Intelligence Index:
Seems to possess an ‘above-average’ (at least) intelligence – probably limited only by overconfidence, and/or libido.
Sexual Orientation/Development:
Definitely heterosexual; although ‘trisexual’ may be a more fitting description! This individual’s brazen flirtations, willingness to experiment, and extreme disdain for any sort of long-term, monogamous traditions (i.e. dating, marriage) are probably the result of his manipulated genetic profile, or a deep character flaw, or both. In any case, this so-called person does display the necessary ability to control himself, but only when the situation absolutely requires it. Much like a well-trained house-pet of some sort, I imagine …
Personal Background:
Bran has lived in various nomadic refugee settlements and space caravans his entire life. Given some of the extreme circumstances he has had to face, his upbeat, positive personality – not to mention his comfort level and expertise with homemade explosives.
Career Summary:
Bran Renar is part of an intergalactic, loosely-allied assortment of refugees, deserters, political escapees, and assorted misfits and anarchists. Known collectively, as ‘The Wanderer’s Hand’, ‘The Fallen’, or (my personal favorite) “scum”, the group has seen more than it’s share of hard times and repression. As a result, some of them have, inevitably, learned to fight back.
Bran has served in many operations, often successfully. He can function as an effective foot soldier, as well as a efficient mission ‘launcher.’
Also, he can make a warp coil overload just by sneezing at it!
Even considering his more friendly and annoying character defects, I think that Bran Renar would make a fine addition to our crew. (I know how just high the standards are here, if anybody does) And he can blow shit up good, real, real, good!!!