On Ferasa, names are earned. I started life as a nameless kit, would have stayed nameless had I not fought and thought and tried, always, to be noticed, to be worthy of note. In the end, I succeeded, I reached the point where others had to ask, "Who is the officer who has performed these meritorious acts?" and so a name had to be granted to me. Rrueo. I earned the right to be Rrueo.
But Klingons are born with names... and the judge, as he sits above the trial floor, robed and hooded, is one who has served with valour and distinction in his time. And so the Klingons came to trust his skill and his honour and his knowledge... and they took his name away and made him only a judge.
It is a strange topsy-turvy world these Klingons live in.
They are thronged around the trial floor, a muttering mass below us where we stand in the private viewing gallery. Shalo is beside me, her green Orion face carefully neutral. Behind it, her mind is as it always is, layer upon layer of masks of ice, illuminated from behind by the cold clear light of her self. She examines the coating on her blunt vestigial claws.
Below us, the prosecutor is opening his case. He still has a name, Ch'Gror of the House of Turlan, and he has a loud and hectoring voice.
"We will prove," he is shouting, "how the defendant is so lost to honour that she fled from a system of harmless pacifist farmers! How she destroyed honest Klingon warriors who sought to dispute her cowardly orders! How she has brought shame on the noble name of the KDF! We will prove all this and more, and we demand, in the name of honour, nothing less than her death!"
Held in a spotlight at the centre of the trial floor, my friend R'j Bl'k' says nothing. She is too far away for me to feel her mind, but I know her mind-tone well in any event; it is a bundle of dry sticks, kindling ready to flare at an instant into a blaze of insight - or violence.
"The court will no doubt hear," Ch'Gror continues, "the pathetic attempts of this creature to exculpate herself. We know that true Klingon warriors will pay no heed to her excuses! Yet, in the interests of justice, we must hear her lies, the better to refute them." He gestures dramatically at R'j. "Speak, then, creature. Let us hear what paltry excuses you can muster."
R'j's rasping whisper seems completely unmoved. "Where does the honourable prosecutor wish me to begin?" she asks.
Ch'Gror glowers. "It does not matter, creature."
"Then I will summarize the background for the court's benefit," R'j continues, unruffled. "Dahar Master Juregh and his forces were detailed to garrison Tiaza Zephora, the sole habitable world of the system designated DR-3771. I was assigned to Juregh's command for this mission."
"This is known," snaps Ch'Gror.
"Tiaza Zephora was colonized some three centuries ago by a group of Klingons who rejected the warrior ethos of mainstream Klingon culture," R'j continues, affecting not to notice the prosecutor. "They were left to their own pacifistic devices until military realignments in the Eta Eridani sector gave the system a certain strategic importance. Dahar Master Juregh was therefore assigned to bring these - people - back to their rightful place as citizens of the Empire. Resistance was not anticipated.
"On arrival at the system, we found, as we had expected, that the colonists had regressed to a pre-industrial agrarian society. We were unable to locate any significant population centres from orbit, so Dahar Master Juregh beamed down marine detachments as occupying forces. When those, too, were unable to find a planetary capital, Juregh beamed down himself, with command staff including myself and my officers, selecting the largest significant building we could find as our starting point."
Ch'Gror appears to be waiting for R'j to pause for breath. What he does not realize is that - with her eccentric respiratory system - she does not need to.
"Dahar Master Juregh expressed himself forcefully to the local inhabitants - this was, perhaps, understandable by this time. I felt obliged, nonetheless, to remind him of his duties towards conquered populations. The Dahar Master ordered me to return to my vessel, and of course I complied. Shortly thereafter, contact was lost with all personnel on the ground.
"The Tiazans - as it is convenient to refer to them - have grown slightly divergent from their initial stock, due to genetic drift and environmental influences. It was, therefore, possible to confirm, from orbit, that there were no Klingon life signs on the planet. Nor any of our auxiliary troops - Nausicaans, Gorn, Orions - only the Tiazans themselves. This fact clearly called for urgent explanation."
"But, instead, you fled!" Ch'Gror shouts.
"Not at this stage. In the absence of Dahar Master Juregh, overall command then passed to the next senior officer, General K'Kal of the House of Mordag. He ordered an immediate evaluation of the available data, and reached one conclusion from that - contact was lost with all of our ground forces, but not quite simultaneously. General K'Kal discovered that - whatever had happened - it happened only during the planetary night. None of our ground elements remained in contact past the hour of local sunset. Unfortunately, Dahar Master Juregh had sent most of our forces down on the planetary night side - for sound reasons of psychology. Usually sound, that is."
"You criticise your commanding officer?" Ch'Gror bristled.
"No. He was unaware of factors that turned out to be pertinent. There was no way he could have known. Am I to continue?"
"Proceed, creature. Proceed to the moment of your cowardice."
"I have shown none." For the first time, R'j seems to bristle a little. Beside me, Shalo purses her lips in consideration. "I will describe the subsequent events. K'Kal decided to commit forces to an exploratory mission on the day side of the planet. A decision which seemed eminently reasonable to me, I might add."
"I am sure the General's heirs are glad to hear it," sneers Ch'Gror.
The judge is saying nothing. I am not even convinced he is awake, or alive. He sits there motionless - his mind is of course shielded, and I can read no expression on his face.
"General K'Kal commanded the Vo'Quv class carrier IKS ParbIng. With this vessel and her consort the Wachboch, K'Kal began a low altitude sweep of the planet's northern continent, as soon as local day began in that location. Both carriers launched full wings of To'Duj fighters on approach.
"As each fighter approached within a range of one hundred and twenty kellicams from the planet's surface, though, it was instantly destroyed in a manner consistent with an uncontrolled warp core breach. General K'Kal did not change course in response to this event, and both carriers also reached a distance of one hundred and twenty kellicams, at which point they too exploded. There were no survivors from either ship."
"At which point," Ch'Gror shouts suddenly, "you usurped command!"
"S-s-s-s-s. I was the next most senior officer: I assumed command."
"You are not a regular KDF officer!"
"I was attached to Dahar Master Juregh's force in the normal manner and formed part of his chain of command. In a military context, one has authority or one does not; there is no middle ground. I had authority. I exercised it."
"To flee!" And there is triumph in Ch'Gror's shout. The judge is awake, after all: I see him lean forwards slightly.
"S-s-s-s-s. To retreat. It was clear that we were confronted with an adversary we did not understand. An adversary that had eliminated an entire ground force and a substantial component of our space force without - apparently - even exerting itself. The Empire had to be alerted to this new threat, and there was no merit in sacrificing more lives to it. Anyone with actual military experience -" R'j knows as well as I that Ch'Gror's military commission is purely honorary "- knows that retreat is sometimes a necessary expedient."
"So you claim!"
"I am an Adept of the Seven Greater Dodecagons - I speak no untruths, save in the seven permitted circumstances... of which this trial is not one. We could fight an unknown enemy and be destroyed, or we could withdraw and develop new plans which might lead to victory. I saw the latter course as the wiser."
"It is not the Klingon way!" But I can feel, in the air, the crowd in the galleries is not in sympathy with Ch'Gror's posturing. "What of the destruction of the IKS Dargar? Explain that, creature, if you can!"
"Captain D'Qad of the Dargar refused my order to retreat."
"He behaved as a true Klingon!"
"He refused a direct order. I instructed his first officer to execute him and take command. The first officer also refused." R'j smiles. "If you wish to accuse me of anything... accuse me of undue leniency, in giving the first officer that chance."
"You then opened fire on the Dargar!"
"Discipline must be maintained."
"Discipline?" But Ch'Gror has quite clearly lost the feeling of the crowd. Not that that matters. All that matters, in the final analysis, is the feeling of the judge. "You destroyed the Dargar! You murdered Captain D'Qad!"
"He wanted a meaningless death. I obliged him."
"You had no right!"
"I had command." R'j's whispering voice carries complete conviction.
"Enough." It is the judge who speaks now, and his words are like iron. "I have heard all I need."
---
"This was not handled well," R'j says.
"You were acquitted," I point out.
R'j makes a disgusted noise. But, then, she often makes strange noises. She leans back in Shalo's second-best guest chair, and relaxes a little. "Acquittal was a foregone conclusion," she says. "That was never my concern."
"It would have concerned you if you had been shot," I point out.
"Whether or not I was convicted was not the main problem," R'j says. "The problem is Tiaza Zephora, and that still remains. Moreover, because of this sideshow of a court martial, the Federation now knows it is a problem."
"The trial was held under conditions of strict military security," I say, more for form's sake than anything else.
"S-s-s-s-s," says R'j. "And of course the Feds will not be able to penetrate that. Also, politicians are honest, and there are fairies at the bottom of your garden. Tell me, Rrueo, exactly when did you have your brain replaced with a litre of slurry?"
"Rrueo sees you are feeling well," I say. "So?"
The door of Shalo's quarters hisses open, and Shalo herself comes in. "I brought a bottle of bloodwine," she says, holding it up. "To celebrate."
R'j smiles faintly. "I am... gratified," she says.
"Also," Shalo adds, as she takes a seat, "to help us in our planning session."
"Rrueo would love to know what we are planning," I grumble.
"The higher echelons are unanimous," Shalo says. By which she means, of course, J'mpok has decided. "With the current military situation in Eta Eridani, even though Starfleet has been driven back out of several sectors, they still threaten our trade routes along the Dialosa Corridor." She produces a datapad and draws on it with one elegant green finger. "We need a secure military base to protect our interests in that region. Tiaza Zephora would have been well positioned...."
"It seemed a logical choice," R'j says. "The Tiazan colonists were, I suppose, something of an embarrassment to the Klingons... like a failure in the family. Something to be discreetly ignored."
"But, when the needs of the Empire made their world of renewed interest," Shalo says, "embarrassment was no longer a factor."
"I should have realized, of course," R'j says. "The absence of any significant population centres... even an agrarian economy requires centres of trade and exchange. I should have known it was not just an ordinary backwards farming world."
"Dahar Master Juregh should have known," says Shalo firmly. "Lessons should have been learned... from Organia, for example."
"In any case," says R'j, "the Feds now know, or will soon know, that Tiaza Zephora is held by a force capable of destroying a Klingon army, apparently without effort."
"Or a Federation one, presumably," I say.
"The Feds have not yet antagonized... whatever holds Tiaza Zephora." R'j's silvery eyes burn with the light of obsession. I can see sparks flying in the kindling of her mind. "We must know what it is. We must understand this enemy...."
"And defeat it?"
"Or even convert it to our cause," says Shalo. "The situation is fraught with both dangers and potentialities."
"Oh, like so many situations," I say. "So, now we will be in a race with the Feds to unravel this mystery?"
"That is what they will expect," says R'j.
I look at her. "And of course, you always do exactly what people expect."
R'j smiles thinly. "You grasp my meaning."
"What I have suggested," says Shalo, "and what has been approved... is that we co-operate with a Federation investigation. Once this is achieved, we may... ensure... that the investigation proceeds on our terms."
"It is easy enough to present this as a potential threat to Federation interests as well as ours," says R'j.
"Ah," I say. "Rrueo understands. As an Adept of the Seven Greater Dodecagons, you do not lie, but you may adjust the truth....
"I do not lie, save in the seven permitted circumstances," says R'j.
"What are the seven permitted circumstances?" I ask.
"To deceive a sworn enemy," says R'j, "to comfort the sick, the dying or small children; to uphold the honour of a sworn friend; to prepare a pleasant surprise for a loved one; to hearten the fearful; to keep peace within a family; to simplify a complex truth for the slow of understanding."
I mull that one over for a moment. "Perhaps Rrueo is slow of understanding," I say, "but could those seven circumstances not cover, well, virtually anything?"
"Conceivably." R'j sounds almost amused.
"Well, then," I say, "what Starfleet officers can we contact, who are slow of understanding?"
"It is never wise to underestimate Starfleet," says Shalo. "But, if we cannot find foolish opponents, we can, at least, find ones whose capabilities are a known quantity...."
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