Korha was dying. The fine old cruiser had seen his last fight. Floating in the outer dark of a nameless system, in the shadow of a gas giant, the fires flickering aboard reflected weakly on the bright surface of the giant's icy satellite.

Korha's orbit was decaying. Shortly he would fall into the roiling depths of a failed protostar. He would not survive reentry, of course. Within Korha, Khelex knew his time had come. His crew had preceded him in death. Surely they awaited him in the Black Fleet. At least he would die before the naked stars. It was proper, the commander and ship should go together, or not at all.

Kai the crew of Korha. They had held their posts, even when the trap was obvious. Korha had been outnumbered four-to-one, but two had not left that fight and a third had been crippled. All in all, an excellent showing for a twenty-year old cruiser, against newer and more numerous Fed vessels. But now, Korha was scrap. Not a circuit functioned, even the normally undisturbable gravity system. Khelex was not sure, but he suspected that even the relative inertia stabiliser was offline, in which case near-C drift meant time-dilation effects. He was not overly superstitious, but what effect that would have on his passage to the Black Fleet, he decided he would rather not think about. He could not concern himself with that, or soon, anything at all.

He clung to life by the barest margin, solely to see the end with Korha. The ship deserved that much. The Teran'gan would call it "going out in a blaze of glory". Teran'gans. Khest, but wouldn't he almost trade Korha for hot Kafei right now. If only the organic fabricators worked.

Danchin, he thought. I name this planet Danchin. Never mind it would never be officially recognised as such.

The newly named planet filling his view and thoughts, he did not notice the chiming of a transporter. Three Human-Fusion Klingons appeared, one in the uniform of a healer. All three bore the insignia of Admiral Kven's House. Conferring briefly amongst themselves, they moved in. The two bodyguards approached first, one comparing a likeness in his palm. "Commander Khelex? I am Kraa, in the service of Admiral Kven. We are here to retrieve you"

A handful of moments went by before Khelex responded "My ship is dead, my crew is dead. Soon, I shall join them. I need no rescue."

"Commander, I have been ordered to bring you back. The Admiral wishes to –"

Khelex cut in" The Admiral will survive my absence". Kraa smiled, tightly "The Admiral anticipated you would wish to die with Korha, and that you would only accompany us if you felt you could  avenge him on those who did this. He can promise you that".

At that, Khelex finally turned to face Kraa "and the Organians? What of them, Kraa?"

"What of them, Commander? Did they interfere today? You will have your vengeance, Commander if you answer the Admiral's summons. Show the stars you have the Klin, Commander"

Khelex turned back to face Danchin for a moment, then "You may inform the Admiral I will entertain his offer, after your ship has placed Korha in a stable orbit." If you must bite, bite deeply. I can always return to join him in an honorable end.

His tone somewhat disconcerted the messengers, but  Kraa barked orders into a communicator.  A shuddering squeal announced tractors on Korha's hull, restraining his descent.

So. A messenger with some authority, but no apparent rank. The Admiral must have some use for me. What would II make of that? Narrowing his eyes impassively, he continued the thought, does it matter? Letting the Empire interfere with vindicating my men and ship betrays them just as surely. But  can I  use the Admiral,as he will use me, or has he rigged things so that he is the sole manipulator?

His concentration was such that he missed the chiming of the transporter bringing him to his new life.

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