Chapter 3 - The Bane Of All HonorIn Klingon space, a man observed a recording of the destruction of Romulus. Many a warrior might feel as though old debts were paid. After all, Romulan treachery had sundered their alliance. If not for the efforts of their heroes, Kang, Koloth, and Kor, the Romulan spies might never have been exposed. So Romulus' fall at the attack of Ghidorah, who the Romulans themselves had put in orbit over their own homeworld, caused no Klingon who learned of it to shed any tears whatsoever.
For all that, no one was really jumping for joy. The death of a world was still the death of a world, and it was hard for any warrior to find true pleasure in such a dishonorable slaughter. But there was a man who viewed the end of the Romulan Star Empire with near ecstasy. He was a madman, whose career had been knowingly advanced by those same Romulan spies. His name was Kruge, and he was chiefly a terrorist. He stared at the magni-readings on the recording, sometimes 100X. To him, it was like a true work of art being crafted before his beady eyes.
"Watch, Klars! Watch as the creature sinks into their oceans. The beams, meant to hold him in place, displace trillions of tons of superheated seawater each second. Now, observe as Lord Khiterah spreads his mighty wings, and flies across their equator. As the beams slack gives out, they sink directly into the mantle, causing landquakes unknowable. Not content with that, King Death picks up with the beams again, and wraps fetid Romulus with them like a barbed binding cord, slicing away neat chunks, like p'takh meat, finely sliced for bread-eating. Now, the planet is done. But like a demon lover, Khiterah continues his motions, gently pulling at the beams that bind him, powered as they are by Romulus' core. Lastly, that core bursts, yielding its precious yolk, not unlike the boiled egg of a young gagh-queen. Which reminds me..."
Klars seemed less the loyal toady this day. Not only was his Captain exulting in this disturbing planet-fall, but he was now doing it while eating eggs containing unborn gagh-queens. They were illegal for a reason. If too many were eaten, their reproduction rate would fall, and a species which served as a staple of the Klingon diet would die off. All of which, of course, meant nothing to Kruge.
"My Captain, he will come this way, you know."
Kruge smiled that deceptively absent smile. It was a smile that both old Kelex and young Karti mistook for narco-addled mindlessness. Klars would never make that mistake, especially when his comrades' heads now adorned the entrance to Kruge's quarters. Klars did not ever doubt his Captain's intelligence. His sanity, though, was quite up for grabs. When the day came, and he saw the sign, Klars would move against Kruge. Perhaps, the underling thought, Khiterah's appearance was that sign. Then again, perhaps it wasn't. One simply never knew with three-headed dragons. Kruge, however, was all too predictable, as what he said next revealed.
"Yes, Klars. I know he will come. But don't worry. I am of the Order. I know his mysteries. I intend that my name shall be called out as Kruge DragonSlayer! His faces, stretched out on my prow? Can you imagine such a thing? Why, when I kill Khiterah, it shall be my name, not that of dust-binned Kahless, that Klingon children - no, all children- shall sing out."
Like it or not, Klars now had his sign, and began to plan the removal of his mad Captain. But business was first. At least one path to defeating Kruge's plans waited just outside his chamber.
"The K'Ch'Rn to see you, Captain Kruge. He is most insistent."
Kruge shrugged, uncaring.
"As always. Send him in, Klars. I need a good laugh, and he is quite laughable. But first instruct him to keep a civil tongue in his head, lest he not have any tongue at all. His very presence aboard my ship is an insult to me, after all."
"Yes, sir."
Klars went into the hallway, there to briefly speak with the ship's K'Ch'Rn, what some Terrans might call a lawyer or solicitor. This cultural transliteration was not entirely correct, though.
The technical term for this man's occupation was, 'the Disprover Of Guilt'. In ancient times, a K'Ch'Rn was tasked with finding out why the guilty should not die. Like any other Klingons, they pursued their task with a vengeance. Many times, they were so effective at finding just cause for allowing the guilty-or even the innocent-to live, that they grew to be despised. Ultimately, the practice was outlawed, and the last 500 K'Ch'Rn were placed at the bottom of the Great Ocean called Gdst'rt.
But recently, the need for a K'Ch'Rn was seemingly approaching. The image of captured young Klingons paraded before Federation Courts was too real in the minds of the High Council. So a young warrior of brain, brawn, and fervor was found to defend those who did not kill themselves before capture. He had served under all 3 greats, Kang, Koloth, and Kor, and had even been wounded by a crazy human of Russian extraction who swore the Klingons had killed a brother he never had. War is Sto-Vo-Kor, but it can not always be so pleasant. This young man eventually proved himself so well, that he rose to the rank of Colonel. His name was Worf, a widower with a young son named Mogh, now in the care of the Lady Mara, wife to one of his Captains, on an outlying colony world. His should have been a bright career path, cutting the Federation to shreds on its own legalese.
But then, the Federation began a policy of simple prisoner exchanges and goodwill release of non-capital prisoners. This rendered Colonel Worf quite irrelevant. His assignment eventually became overseeing the unstable Kruge, which, was, of course, dependent on Kruge's cooperation. The mad Captain gave absolutely none. So did Colonel Worf's life become one of dispensing routinely ignored advice while enduring constant bogus reports of his son's death. But Worf held his own, and each crewman knew how he ended every conversation with their trigger-happy Captain.
"Kruge, you are without honor!"
As Klars found Colonel Worf, he frowned. What he had to tell him was mutinous, perhaps even treasonous.
"It is done. Kruge has blasphemed the sacred name of Kahless. This is a ship of the damned. Colonel, we must get you out of here, to warn Qo'noS of what is approaching. Our Captain - is irredeemably mad."
Worf nodded, but had no enthusiasm for the thought of even so necessary a withdrawal. Such was not how a warrior was trained.
"I do not relish leaving my ship during the Last Days. But if Mighty Qo'noS is to be spared the fate of Proud Romulus, someone must speak up, and Kruge has refused to inform the fleet of Khiterah's approach. How shall I depart?"
Klars looked about, for spies of any kind.
"We shall know within 5 hours. Colonel, I am no longer a man, but Kruge's thing. In the name of all true men, help to stop the Beast of the Night. Do this in memory of a once-proud officer named Klars."
"I shall, Klars. When you give the word, I shall move to escape, though it renders me loathsome."
Their plans done, Klars departed, and, deciding not to see the Captain, Worf went to his station and whispered the Oldest Question to himself.
"Will You Fight the Enemy? Will You Fight Khiterah?"
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Back in Federation Space, five Federation vessels had just done the unthinkable and fired on a sixth. The sixth ship, in this case, was the Enterprise. Captain Kirk spoke to his Senior Staff in an effort to assess this incredible situation.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the people who kidnapped my nephew - no, strike that - kidnapped my son, Peter, are demanding we turn him back over to them, so that they can call the Ancient Destroyer to this part of space. Now, Peter says they've already succeeded, and Ghidorah is over Romulus. These ships appear to have mutinous, extremely young crews involved in some xenophobic agenda. They have illegal cloaks, and they have us surrounded. Any ideas, Mr. Decker?"
Will Decker nodded.
"Let's call their bluff, sir. This is one Federation ship against five others. It is inconceivable to me that they would follow through on any of their threats."
But Ilia shook her head.
"No, Will. They see themselves as being in a war, and that we, not they, are the traitors. We must, sadly, find a way to destroy them. They will leave us no other choice. As a Deltan, I do not make such a statement lightly."
Xon added his two cents.
"Could we not merely disable them? Destruction precludes rehabilitation, and will merely create martyrs to their illogical cause."
But Scotty would have none of that.
"Ah, those bigoted greenies over there are barely charging weapons correctly. Captain, those ships are set to blow, and we best not be here when they go up."
Uhura didn't speak, but just held up her earpiece, indicating the endless stream of Humanoids-First babble the five ships were still spewing. For her to remove that Earpiece while on duty was equivalent to Commander Chekov crediting Sputnik's launch to 20th Century Americans. It was a sign of the times, as well. Sulu did have something to say, though.
"Sir, what if these aren't merely renegades? What if they have enough followers to seize control of one of the major worlds? Perhaps even Earth?"
McCoy, despite not having battle training, was never silent on his friend's bridge, or really anywhere else.
"Jim, that is a concern, but so is Ghidorah! If the Romulans manage to get control of him, then they have a truly unstoppable super-weapon. We have to find it, and stop their attempts dead in their tracks."
Lieutenant Peter Kirk, the Captain's now-acknowledged biological son, so unnerving with his glowing eyes and strange abilities, had nearly the last word.
"Sadly, Doctor, the Romulans no longer have Ghidorah. Romulus has been destroyed. The monster is now headed for Qo'noS. He'll be there in three days."
Silence overcame the Bridge, broken occasionally by the withering fire from the five clumsily-run ships. One of the planets that defined the Quadrant was gone, wiped away by the Ancient Destroyer. Another was seemingly next. Though both were technically enemy worlds, all felt the mind-numbing loss.
Peter was not sure at all how his ex-wife Saavik would react to the loss of her unknown mother's world, since her Vulcan father, due to the stigma of his being raped, could never acknowledge her. One thing he was very certain of, and that was that he would be there for her, no matter what.
James Kirk broke the silence. He turned to the son of his sterile brother's heart, and of his own love for that brother and sister-in-law. They had so desperately wanted a child who would look like the one that Sam could not create any longer.
"Peter, Sargon told you not to confront Ghidorah with your powers. But how about these maniacs blasting away our at shields?"
"I can do it, Captain. But I can't be gentle. There's too many variables. I can stop them, but I can't save them."
McCoy sarcastically gave Peter a shot of confidence.
"You're Jim's son, boy. That means you do what you have to, and that you always win, and you look good while doing it!"
Peter smiled, and was calmly able to relax his eyes luminescence.
"Thank You, Doctor. But it's the Enterprise crew you should be talking about, not one man or one family. But then, I suppose this crew more than qualifies as a family."
With that, Peter closed his eyes. Jim looked quizzical.
"Um, Lieutenant? The renegades?"
"They're finished, sir."
Scotty looked at the viewscreen.
"Yer daft, lad! Those ships are still..."
On cue, all five ships blew up, their passing contained without shockwave. Uhura looked over in shock at the young man who once was an 11 year old with a crush on her. For he had just crushed five heavy cruisers simply by thinking hard.
"Peter, what did you do?"
"Well, Commander Uhura, I think you'll find that ships shouldn't fire weapons right after someone has just increased their shields' joule output by about 5000 percent. The phasers and torpedoes tend to bounce back when you do that. As an added bonus, the shockwaves were dissipated by the time the shields destabilized. Captain, may I suggest we make for Qo'noS?"
"You may. But Peter, we're six days away, and you said Ghidorah would be there in three. Can you - boost us?"
"I will try, sir - later. That little stunt with the shields cost me plenty. Permission to speak to my former wife, Sir?"
"Granted. But be gentle, Peter. This is not good news for her, by any stretch. Do you know what you might say to her?"
"I - think I do. Afterwards, I'll need to talk to her about correcting a mistake we recently made."
Lieutenant Kirk left the Bridge to speak to Lieutenant Saavik. On the way, he bumped into Lieutenant Jessica Roesch, another old Academy friend, and fiancée' to his roommate, Lieutenant Ryan Walton. They embraced.
"Pete! My God! It's really good to see you. Was Bzutchl really running the Merrimac? That little psycho? Now I hear the Ancient Destroyer is real, and you're the Captain's son. Boy, turnaround just doesn't end, does it?"
"No, Jess, it never does. Listen, do you know if Saavik is in engineering?"
"No, she's asleep. Dead asleep, even for a Vulcan. Why?"
Peter spoke from his heart.
"If she'll have me, I'm going to ask that we bond once more. I love her, and recent events indicate that time is not on our side. In short, I'm asking her to formally and properly marry me."
"Wow! That's great. But didn't she, ya know, violate you? Take you during Pon Farr, or Plak Tow? I don't know if I could be with somebody like that, love or no."
"Not precisely. It was a very, very weird day. The day that the Greater Vulcan Sector was attacked by a Klingon terrorist by the name of Kruge...."
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While Peter told Jessica Roesch of his and Saavik's initial bonding, a demon flew in the vast Neutral Zone between Romulan and Klingon space, somehow moved along by wings in an airless vacuum. In the interstellar distance, it spied a vast convoy of ships that was using Klingon space to hide an invasion of another planet. It went to approach that convoy, for the moment forgetting Qo'noS. Ghidorah neither knew nor cared that the fleet was from a race the Federation only had limited contact with, thus far. But Cardassia knew of Ghidorah, and it would soon know him better still, to its everlasting regret.
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In the Beta Quadrant was Starship Reliant, finished exploring the void that was supposed to be full of stars and planets. Doctor David Marcus walked up to Commander Pavel Chekov.
"Well, Commander, we, the shanghaied crew of Regula 1, have come to a conclusion about the condition of the Beta Quadrant, as we have found it."
"And vhat vas your conclusion?"
"It isn't there anymore."
Pavel rolled his eyes.
"Thenk you so wery much for your expert opinion, Doctor Marcus. I don't know vhat ve vould've done without you."
"Hey, your accent's getting thicker."
"That will tend to happen, Doctor, vhen a man is upset by a smartass keed!"
As Pavel stalked off, David saw his mother Carol staring at him quite harshly. He feigned confusion.
"What? What?!"