Chapter 6
4th March 2631
Starfleet Command
Ki’Baratan
Romulus
Kalara stood at the window, her back to Admiral Qwert’s office, her arms crossed behind her back. She had been waiting for three hours, ever since arriving from her temporary quarters in the Command complex. Actually, no, she corrected herself. She had been waiting for a whole day. The Ulysses had arrived on schedule, the day before, but Admiral Qwert had sent her a message pushing back their meeting to this morning.
Damien had offered to beam over with her, but she had told him to make the most of the time to look around the city “ he was hoping to start a new novel once aboard the Redemption, changing his focus from the Klingons to the Romulans. So she had come alone and been told to wait. And wait. And wait.
If she had been a human, she would have been biting her nails. As a Klingon, she wanted to be pacing the room, throwing things against the wall and roaring out her frustration. As a Starfleet officer, she stood ramrod straight and glared through the window at the city beyond.
At least she had a magnificent view. Ki’Baratan had been completely destroyed in the last year of the Occupation, a Dominion revenge attack that killed 15 million. When the new Federation decided to rebuild Starfleet Command on Romulus, though, a lot of the money set aside by the Reconstruction Bill had been allocated to the city. It had grown into an awe-inspiring vista of spires and domes, all in greens and blues, sparkling in the morning sun. The Command complex sat on one of the city’s nine slopes, providing an eye-watering view over the rest.
Despite the view, though, Kalara felt like she was going to go mad. Finally, she couldn't take anymore. Enough is enough. Determined, she spun round and stalked towards the Admiral's secretary, who looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes.
"Are you sure he knows I'm here?" she growled.
"I... Yes, sir. I... He told me... That is, my orders were to..."
"Yes?" She leaned down until her forehead almost touched his. "What exactly are your orders, ensign?"
"To keep you waiting until I arrived," a voice said behind her.
Kalara swung round, snapping to attention in the same, fluid motion. A tall, elder Klingon stood there in a Starfleet uniform, his white hair tied behind his back in a non-regulation ponytail. That wasn’t the only thing non-regulation about him “ he wore a Klingon sache over his chest and a leather belt around his middle holding half a dozen sharp knives.
"Admiral. I was informed that you wouldn’t be present."
"Is that a problem, Commander?"
"No, sir. Of course not, sir."
"Good." He looked past her at the ensign. "Please inform Admiral Qwert that we are here."
"Yes sir!"
Moments later, Kalara followed Admiral Kovoth into Admiral Qwert’s office. The room was stifling hot and humid. All of the drapes had been pulled closed, leaving only the overhead strip lights to illuminate the meagre furniture and slime-covered plants. The Ferengi himself was waiting for them, his hands clasped in front of him on the desk.
"Well, its about time, Kovoth. I've been sat here counting my latinum for the part three hours, and I can tell you, with the Seas of Prosperity this choppy, it hasn't been a pleasant time."
Kovoth grimaced. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?"
Admiral Qwert scowled and turned to his screen. As he did, Kalara heard him mutter something that sounded awefully like ‘Klingons'. She bristled at his tone of voice, but Kovoth threw her a warning glance that shut her up.
"Well, Commander, we've called you here because we're in a bit of a situation. You see we've promised you the Redemption, and as the 297th Rule of Acquisition says : 'Never make a Klingon a promise you can't keep.' Unfortunately, we find ourselves in a tight bind. What do you know of the Laurentine?"
Kalara was taken aback by the sudden change in direction the conversation had just taken. She stared at the Admiral for a few moments, before answering.
"Nothing beyond what is written in the Starfleet database."
"Well one thing you won't find in the database is the fact that since the end of the Occupation, the Hegemony has turned down fifteen separate invitations or requests from the Federation to open some kind of dialogue. Fifteen. Most people would have given up the negotiations. I know most Ferengi would. But, the 343rd Rule will be proven once again : 'Persistence often pays off."
He chuckled softly until he realised that neither Klingon were smiling. He grunted. "Well, be that as it may, the Hegemony have finally accepted our offer and are willing to discuss a merger."
"What the Admiral," Kovoth said with an unmistakable sneer, "is trying to say, is that three days ago, the Laurentine Hegemony contacted President Hammond and invited the Federation to send a ship, along with a diplomatic party, to act as a permanent representative to the Hegemony. That ship is to be stationed at their Onyx space station, and will be allowed to explore Hegemony space, make trade agreements, conduct military training with Hegemony vessels and, eventually, open negotiations for a permanent treaty with the Laurentine."
Kalara tried to process this revelation. It was a huge opportunity. With the Hegemony as allies, the Federation might actually begin to resemble what it had once been. Still, she didn't understand what this had to do with her command of the Redemption and she said so.
"That is where the situation becomes... Complicated,” Admiral Qwert went on. “Obviously, we want to make the best possible impression. Sending the flag-ship of the fleet is our best option. You’ve seen the Redemption, you know the kind of message she sends out. However, the Hegemony requested that this mission be commanded by someone in particular. And that person, my lovely, is not you."
Kalara had had enough of the Ferengi’s tone and his never-ending words. She wished that the meeting had been held with Kovoth alone, it would have been over by now. She would just have to move things along.
"Permission to speak freely, sir."
"Granted,” Qwert said with a leer.
"This is a load of bull, to borrow an Earth-expression. I know the Redemption, I've picked out her crew, I've studied every inch of her decks, and I could repair her QSD drive with my eyes closed. Who the hell do you think can command this mission better than me?"
The Ferengi smirked. "Personally, I can't think of anyone better. Unfortunately, however lovely you may be, the prospect of a merger with the Hegemony has my lobes all atingle."
"With all due respect, sir, if you call me lovely one more time, I'll pin you to the walls with my dagger."
Beside her, Kovoth sprang to his feet. Kalara had been expecting it. Before her former commanding officer could even draw his dagger, she had her own knife in hand and pressed against his neck.
"If this was the Empire, I would kill you for such insubordination,” Kovoth growled.
“If this was the Empire, you’d be dead already.” She stepped back, putting the knife back in her sheath. She sat down and looked up at Kovoth, waiting. With a growl, he sat down as well, glowering at her.
The sound of applause drew her eyes back to the desk. The damned troll was actually clapping.
"Kovoth told me you had spirit. Good. That's exactly what we need for this mission."
"Sir?"
"The Hegemony may be forcing our hand with this appointment, but that doesn't mean we want to lose you. As you said, you know the Redemption, you hand picked its crew. We'll need that knowledge once we reach the Hegemony."
“We?”
"Admiral Qwert volunteered to lead the trade delegation,” Kovoth sneered.
"Someone has to do it."
"And you want me along as what?"
"My lovely, what I want and what you'll give me are two very different things."
Kalara rolled her eyes and looked at Kovoth, who went on, "We want you to stay on as first officer. That way we keep you onboard, along with all of your experience."
"No."
"This is not a negotiation, Commander," Admiral Qwert said, his voice suddenly commanding. "This is an order."
"I don't care. I've worked too damned hard to get this far, I'm not going to spend another tour as someone else's XO."
"Admiral, give us a moment," Kovoth ordered.
The Ferengi looked as though he were going to object, but when he saw the look on Kovoth's face, he obviously decided not to press the point. Grumbling about 'damned Klingons' throwing him out of his own office, he stood, using a gold pressed walking stick to waddle over to the door. Kalara just had time to hear him say something about 'lovely scars' when the door closed.
"For what you just did, I should gut you and hang you from the nearest window."
Kalara met his gaze, stare for stare. "You might even manage it. But not before I slit you from groin to throat."
Kovoth paused, then he laughed. "I’ve missed you, Kala! I miss that aboard the Yav'tar. My new first officer is a human. He has no stomach for our ways."
"I won't do it, Admiral. I won't."
He shook his head. "Yes, you will, Kala. You are an honorable woman, probably the most honorable warrior I know. You are a Klingon and you know what that means."
He sneered as he went on, "Our people have forgotten what honor means. Our warriors lost their way in the War and during the Occupation. Too many compromises were made. Now, in the Empire, a man's honor is as easily bought as a Ferengi's mother. Instead of burning in a last glorious blaze of battle, we capitulated while others whom we had looked down upon fought more bravely and with more honor. Even the Romulans."
"And now what are we? If Kahless were to return now, what would he find? His children sundered, his Empire become the pirates of the galaxy."
Kalara had allowed him to speak without interruption until now, but she felt compelled to speak up. "We still hold the faith."
"And that is why you will do this thing. Not because you want to, not for the Federation, or diplomacy, or even for the Klingon people. You will do it for your own starv'a'kai."
The word sent shivers down her spine. Starv'a'kai. The Way Back. The very foundation of the schism that had led to what the Federation called the Khitomer Klingons. It was at the centre of everything Kalara believed in, her soul's path through this life and into the next. At its core was the belief that every Klingon born since the Occupation was born without honor. What had once been the birthright of every Klingon was now something to be sought, to be fought for, to be gained, rather than to be kept, protected and demonstrated. As she sat there, she realised that Kovoth was right. Honor demanded that she stand by the crew she had chosen, the oath she had sworn. If she wanted to follow her Starv'a'kai, she had to accept.
Though all she wanted to do was look at the floor, she kept her head tall and proud. I am a Klingon warrior, I will act like one. "I will serve."
Kovoth gazed at her, his eyes alive with pride. "Magnificent," was all he said.
"You may call the Ferengi back in, Admiral. I will take his mission."
"Know this, Kalara, daughter of Elyra. I will not rest until you gain what you desire the most. I will see you captain of your own ship, on my father's blood."
"I will hold you to that, Kovoth, son of Kurn."
He turned to fetch Admiral Qwert back into the room. He was almost at the door, when Kalara realised there was one question she had not asked. "Who is replacing me as Captain?"
Kovoth's turned back to her, smile grim. "I think you’ll like him. His name is Ba'el Sarine. You may know him as the Butcher of Lutara."
He turned away, leaving Kalara wondering what by Stovokor she had just agreed to.