A Matter of Time
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the Introduction.
A few lines of description and dialogue are taken from the original screenplay written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga.
The particulars about the Klingon homeworld and Klingon culture are taken from "The Words of the Federation" by Shane Johnson and "The Budget Guide to the Klingon Words", a semi-canon, fan-created reference book. They are a fairly good match with canon, as fans are often more strict in that area than screenwriters. Where there are differences, I used the reference books, as they make more sense for me, personally.
The intricacies of the Klingon caste system are taken from the unfilmed story idea "Kitumba" by John Meredyth Lucas, that was supposed to be part of Star Trek II, a rejected attempt to continue the Original Series.
Chapter 14 – Conversational Klingon
Having pushed their brand new engines to the limit, they reach their destination before schedule, without being bothered by the Suliban or any other hostiles on their way. Either Silik has been able to persuade his mysterious contact that Klaang no longer is a threat for their nebulous plans, or he is still waiting for new instructions.
Ianto doesn't know and he doesn't care. Being one of the first humans who get to see the Klingon homeworld is too exciting. He's never been the first in anything, save for being killed by the 456, which doesn't really count, and he secretly revels in the feeling. He was thoroughly debriefed about their destination at Futurama, but knowing and actually seeing are two very different cups of tea. Or coffee, in his case.
The Klingon homeworld, located at the galactic coordinates -321.5, 48.6, -87.9, is the second planet of an orange binary star. It is called by many names, Ianto knows: Qo'noS, Klinzhai and YuQ (meaning "The World") are the most popular ones. The world has a KSC (Klingon Stellar Cartography) number but is identified by other races by different names and numbers, none of which is currently known on Earth.
What a Klingon means when he refers to his world depends largely on where he comes from and what dialect he speaks. Qo'noS is the official name of the homeworld. Klinzhai is actually the name of the primary star around which Qo'noS orbits. It is also the name of one of the island nations on Qo'noS; a nation that, during the long and violent history of the Empire, has become the leading force of a race led by warriors.
None of this is known to the average human, of course – not even to those in Starfleet – thus Archer makes sure that the senior officers listen to T'Pol's factual introduction very carefully.
"Qo'noS is nearly one and a half times the size of Terra," the Vulcan explains. "It is the second planet in a five planet system, and the only one originally capable of supporting life. However, the Klingons have settled the third planet of their home system 175.2 Earth years ago, and a preparatory post has been established on the fourth planet, where their version of terraforming has already begun."
"What about the other planets?" Lieutenant Reed asks.
"The first planet of the system orbits too close to the twin suns; similar to Mercury Solis," T'Pol replies with scientific precision. "It is a burned-out world that keeps one side to the suns at all times, allowing a science post to exist on the dark side. The fifth planet is a frozen waste."
"I find the idea of a Klingon science post a bit hard to believe," Tucker comments, pulling a face. His few chance encounters with their passenger haven't left a good impression.
"They are a warlike race, that is correct," the Vulcan allows. "But that does not mean they are technologically inferior. Or did your own people not make their greatest scientific discoveries while trying to develop stronger, more efficient weapons with which to kill each other?"
"Touché!" Archer says smoothly, before the visibly enraged chief engineer could give in to the urge to throttle their science officer… or die trying. ""What can you tell us about Qo'noS itself?"
"Very little of it is know, as Klingons rarely tolerate off-worldlers on the homeworld," T'Pol replies. "What we do know are mainly scientific facts, gained through decades-long observation and logical deduction. As you can see on the diagram, the planet tilts only a few degrees on its axis, resulting in very little seasonal change. Also, a high, dense layer of carbon dioxide in the upper atmosphere retains heat, creating a greenhouse effect that renders the average temperature high for a Minshara-class world."
"And these guys are still running around wearing leather and steel all the time?" Tucker whistles. "The bastards must be tougher than cooked swine hides!"
"They are resilient," if T'Pol has found the comparison disgusting, she shows no sign of it. "They have to; Qo'noS is not a hospitable world. Compared with other Minshara-class planets, it has relatively little vegetation, save for the few equatorial jungles. As a result, nearly every native animal species in carnivorous and hostile in nature."
"Just like the Klingons themselves," Lieutenant Reed comments, and T'Pol inclines her head in agreement.
"Indeed. Klingons like to hunt as much as they like going to war; however, most of their food is grown on the third planet of the system, which they call Kiazh. That is where the majority of their people lives and works in our times. Qo'noS is basically occupied by the ruling class and the military… which are largely identical. Very little is known about their ruling system, as not even embassies are allowed on the homeworld – they are all situated on Kiazh."
"Sop you can't tell us anything about the possible conflict between the various Klingon factions?" Archer is clearly disappointed.
"On the contrary; Klingon politics consist of violent conflicts between the various factions," T'Pol replies calmly. "The problem is twofold: the older source of conflict is the one among the major ethnic groups."
"You mean they aren't a homogenous population?" Reed asks.
"Of course not; which species is?" T'Pol gives him the Vulcan eyebrow™. "There are five large ethnic groups know to us: the Klinzhai, the Kumburanya, the Rumaiym, the Wijnqan and the Daqawly. Of these five, the Kumburanya and the Rumaiym are the most numerous and influential… or, at least, they were."
"Would you care to elaborate?" Archer is trying to control his impatience, but it's clearly not an easy task.
"The Rumaiym were, according to the legends, the founders of the first two great kingdoms and basically ruled great parts of the homeworld for nearly twelve hundred local years, with a four thousand year long power struggle between various factions in-between the two kingdoms," T'Pol explains. "Then the ruler of a small island nation, Kahless, Lord of Klinzhai and the Skies Above It, allied himself with the most numerous and primitive Kumburanya tribes and brought the life of Molor, First King Twelfth, and of his kingdom to an end. On that day, Kahless declared himself Emperor of the World and the Skies Above it – which, basically, was the birthday of the Klingon Empire."
T'Pol pauses and waits for her shipmates to digest some of the information she has dumped onto them without forewarning; then she adds dryly. "Of course, most of the imperial history cannot be found in print anywhere, which complicates things. Being true traditionals, the Klingons preserved the custom of memorizing tales and retelling them as fables to the present. Oral history is much more… colourful than what appears in the history books, and it is near impossible to tell which one is more accurate."
"None of which is really important for us at the moment," Archer says dismissively. "So, which group is currently the dominant one?"
"The Kumburanya," T'Pol replies without hesitation. "They are also nearly identical with the warrior caste – the only Klingons most off-worldlers ever get to meet. The original Klinzhai nation has merged with them and practically ceased to exist as an independent ethnic group. The Rumaiym, having been forced out of power and military, took the second best option and focused on science and technology; as much as the Kumburanya despise and hate them, without them the Empire would fall to pieces… back to the Stone Age."
"You mean they are the ones with the actual brains?" Tucker translates for himself and T'Pol nods.
"With the scientific mindset and the technical know-how, yes, while the Kumburanya have the actual power. So they tolerate each other, but this is an uncertain truce. And finally, there are the other two groups, together making up 40.74 per cent of the population, who do the actual work and keep the Empire running. They are called Subjects by the other two castes – and are increasingly discontent with their low place in society."
"In other words: there is plenty of explosive stuff for the Suliban to play with," Archer summarizes, and the Vulcan nods again.
"Correct, Captain. Stirring up the already existing conflicts enough for them to end in a civil war would be easier than keeping the status quo. It is surprising that they are not already fighting each other to complete destruction… again."
"Well, let's hope that the proof Klaang is supposedly carrying will prevent that from happening… this time," Archer comments.
As if on clue, Hoshi raises a hand to her Feinberger module, through which a message from her relief communications officer, Crewman Baird, is coming in.
"Captain, we've just received permission from the Klingon High Council to go down to Qo'noS," she reports. "They demand that we take Klaang with us. Immediately."
"Well," Archer says with a wry grin. "Who could refuse such a heartfelt invitation? T'Pol, I'd like you to come with us… as our witness that we have, indeed, delivered the Klingon to his people in one piece."
"What they are going to do with him is another matter entirely," Ianto mutters cynically.
"Exactly," Archer counters. "And since you seem to have such a surprisingly detailed knowledge about Klingons, you'll come with me, Mr Daniels."
"Gladly, Captain," Ianto fights hard to conceal his excitement over the chance to see the Klingon homeworld with his own eyes. "I think, however, that you should take Ensign Sato with us, too. My Klingonese is passable, but I don't have her instinctive understanding of the language… of any language, in fact."
"I planned to bring her anyway," Archer replies. "All right, people, let's meet in the Shuttle Bay in ten minutes, sharp. Dismissed."
The First City of the Klingons looks like a detail from a particularly eerie gothic novel with its monolithic buildings and dark towers that are looming threateningly in the smoggy, reddish haze of the system's twin suns. The High Council Chamber is the most imposing building of all, rising skywards from a steep hill like a medieval fortress.
From the inside, the ancient room is constructed of withered grey stone and blackened wood beams. The only illumination comes from huge torches, which create ragged shadows on the walls. Four elderly Klingons, with greying, shaggy hair and beards, sit on raised thrones above the chamber floor. They wear ceremonial regalia – heavy robes and cloaks and thick belts – adorned with primitive weapons. There can be no doubt that they represent the governing body of the Empire.
Twenty or so other Klingons, clearly of much lesser rank, stand below them, including numerous armed guards… armed with high-tech energy weapons as well as with vicious-looking, curved blades. By all their traditionalism, the Klingons are clearly willing to use any means necessary to protect their leaders.
Or to assassinate them, if that is what their peculiar interpretation of honour demands.
When the guards open the heavy doors for Archer, T'Pol, Hoshi and Ianto, who've been made to wait with Klaang in the outer chamber, the Council Members are in the middle of a heated debate, yelling at each other in the official dialect of Klingonese.
"I'm getting the feeling that there is great strife among them," Archer murmurs.
"There usually is," T'Pol comments dryly.
The oldest Council Member, whom Ianto identifies by his insignia as the Chancellor, now stands and bellows," Malja'gor!"
Klaang steps forward shakily, walks toward the dais… then stops. He tries to muster as much strength and dignity as he can.
"Wo'migh Oagh! Q'ala," he intones.
Archer looks questioningly at Hoshi, who shrugs.
"Something about disgracing the Empire," she murmurs. "He says he's ready to remove himself… whatever that's supposed to be."
"A euphemism for ritual suicide," Ianto replies promptly.
His two fellow humans exchange shocked looks; T'Pol, however, remains unfazed. She must have known the meaning of the phrase already, which is not really surprising. The Vulcans have had contact with the Klingons a lot longer than humans.
The Chancellor gives no answer at all. Instead, he slowly descends the great stone steps, pulling a vicious, three-bladed knife from its sheath.
"That's a d'k tagh," Ianto comments sotto voce. "A traditional warrior's knife, commonly used in hand-to-hand combat as well as in many ceremonies."
"Including executions?" Archer asks.
"No," Ianto replies dryly. "For that, they use the kut'luch; a serrated blade that is usually left in the wound."
"Charming," Hoshi mutters.
Meanwhile, the Chancellor has reached the bottom of the steps and stops before Klaang, who tenses as the Chancellor raises the knife.
Archer looks at Ianto. "They seem to be willing to make and exception."
Ianto merely shrugs.
The Chancellor, however, doesn't execute Klaang. He simply grabs Klaang's wrist and draws the blade across his palm. Klaang appears oblivious to the pain; he looks puzzled, though, as the Chancellor calls to a nearby aide: "Pog!"
The aide approaches them with unhurried strides, carrying a small vial. He holds it up, as the Chancellor turns Klaang's hand, allowing a few drops of blood to fall into it.
"Clever!" Ianto murmurs, realising what's going on.
Archer, however, doesn't, and looks at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I believe Mr Daniels is referring to the possibility that the information has been hidden in Klaang's blood," T'Pol suggests calmly.
"Hoshi looks at them wide-eyed. "Is that even possible?"
"We'll see in a moment," Ianto says.
Meanwhile, the aide has taken the vial to a large apparatus, which seems far more high-tech than anything else in the chamber. He pours a drop of blood onto a sensor pad, and inserts it into the apparatus. A previously unnoticed large screen illuminates, displaying highly magnified, purple Klingon blood cells.
As the aide adjusts the controls, the image continues to magnify, with the Council Members muttering guttural sounds of approval, like some bizarre Greek chorus. The enlarging image now shows spirals of DNA, which keep magnifying... until they can see a new, distinctive pattern taking form within the molecules themselves.
"As I said," Ianto comments in satisfaction. "Molecular encoding. Very clever indeed! Look at all the hidden Suliban data: coordinates, maps, text, schedules... the whole nine miles! Amazing what a group of determined Arcateenians can accomplish by using their telepathic abilities."
"They paid the price for it," Archer reminds him, but Ianto remains unshaken.
"It was Sarin's choice," he says simply. "And it was a heroic feat."
The Klingons obviously agree with him. As chamber erupts with shouts of gruff approval. They quickly fall silent again, though, as the Chancellor turns and approaches the small team of off-worldlers… the first one to touch the sacred ground of Qo'noS for longer than even their storytellers can remember.
He lifts the d'k tagh to Archer's throat.
"ChugDah hegh. Volcha va," he barks; then, unexpectedly, lowers the blade and walks away.
"I'll take that as a thank you," Archer says to Hoshi in a low voice.
Hoshi rolls her eyes. "I don't think they have a word for thank you."
"They do not," T'Pol says matter-of-factly. "Not in the sense any of us would use it anyway."
"What did he say?" Archer insists, his curiosity piqued.
"Believe me, Captain, you don't want to know," Hoshi replies, unnerved.
"It was a compliment, actually," Ianto tells them. "He meant it would be an honour to slay you in battle, sir."
"I'm flattered," Archer says flatly.
"You should," Ianto replies seriously.
It's Archer's turn now to roll his eyes.
"In any case, I think we've outlived our welcome," he then says. "Let's blow this joint while we still can."
"I concur," T'Pol says. "You can be content with your achievement, Captain. You've accomplished the mission and prevented a war… for now anyway."
"Oh, I am content," Archer replies. "More than content, in fact; I'm positively ecstatic. Let's go back to Enterprise and celebrate!"
The celebration in the Mess Hall lasts half the night, while Enterprise is orbiting the Klingon homeworld well beyond the reach of the automatic defence systems. But little by little, the crew leaves to go after their daily (or rather nightly) business, and in the end, only the senior officers remain, whom Archer invites over to his Ready Room.
As an afterthought, he extends the invitation to Ianto and Sandra, too.
"I've just gotten a response to the message I sent to Admiral Forrest," he tells them. "He enjoyed telling the Vulcan High Command about the Suliban we ran into. It's not every day he gets to be the one dispensing information," he adds, grinning at T'Pol, who simply raises an eyebrow.
Also," Archer continues, "I wanted you all to hear Starfleet's orders before I inform the crew."
"Orders, Captain?" Tucker echoes in surprise.
Archer ignores him for the moment, turning instead to T'Pol. "Your people are sending a transport to pick you up."
That earns him a perfectly arched Vulcan eyebrow – again.
"I was under the impression that Enterprise would be taking me back to Earth," T'Pol replies
"It would be a little out of our way," Archer is almost unbearably smug; like a cat that's just ate the canary, with a side dish of cream to it. "Admiral Forrest sees no reason why we shouldn't keep going."
Tucker gives Ianto a look of pure admiration. "Son of a bitch! You've actually done it!"
Ianto adopts a look of wounded innocence. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, Commander," he pauses; then he turns to Archer. "Am I correct to assume that our goal is Space Station W3, sir?"
"Eventually," Archer replies. "We're encouraged to do some actual research on our way there, though," he looks at Phlox. "I hope you don't mind staying with us a little longer, Doctor."
"Not at all, Captain," the Denobulan replies with that slightly creepy smile of his. "In fact, I'm developing a fondness for the human endocrine system."
Sandra is grinning at Tucker like a fool. "We'll have to get double shifts on the repair work, Chief. We've taken quite a bit of battering at the Suliban Helix."
Tucker nods in agreement. "The outer hull's going to need a little patching up. Let's hope that's the last time somebody takes a shot at us."
"Amen," Archer says with feeling.
"I wouldn't keep my hopes up," Ianto mutters; then he clears his throat. "Captain, if I may make a suggestion…"
Archer gives him a wary look. "Why do I have the feeling that I'm not gonna like this?"
"Cos you're a perceptive man, perhaps?" Ianto asks back. "Look, sir, I know you've seen Vulcans as an obstacle all your life... always keeping us from standing on our own two feet…"
"That's true," Archer says slowly. "And I think I see where you're going to with this. If I'm going to pull this off, there are a few things I have to leave behind. Things like preconceptions… holding grudges... mistrust..."
Ianto nods. "Correct, sir. Let's be frank: this mission would've failed without Subcommander T'Pol's help."
"I will not dispute that," T'Pol says flatly.
Archer resists the temptation to retort. He's getting used to her dry humour; and besides, he doesn't want to lose the opportunity Ianto has prepared for him so smoothly.
"Mr Daniels is right," he says thoughtfully. "A Vulcan Science Officer could come in handy. But if I asked you to stay, it might look like I wasn't ready to do this on my own."
"Perhaps you should add pride to your list," T'Pol comments, and Archer has the grace to look embarrassed.
"Perhaps I should."
T'Pol considers for a moment, then she lets him off the hook.
"It might be best if I were to contact my superiors and make the request myself," she suggests. "With your permission, Captain."
"Permission granted," for once, Archer's wide, white smile is honest; it even reaches his eyes.
"I do have one condition, though," T'Pol continues, and the smile freezes at once.
"And that would be:"
"I am not blind, Captain; nor am I stupid," the Vulcan states calmly. "I am well aware of the fact that there is more going on in the background of this mission than you are telling me. So, if you want me 'in', as you humans prefer to call it, you will have to let me in. Otherwise I see no proper basis for our future cooperation."
"She does have a point, Jack," Tucker admits, and Archer sighs.
"I know, Trip. But I also have very good reasons not to want the Vulcan High Command to learn about the true reason behind our mission."
"That can be arranged," T'Pol says.
"How?" Archer asks with a snort. "They'll demand daily reports from you about everything we do!"
"Of course," she allows. "But what you actually do and the reasons why you do it are two different cups of seya."
"I thought Vulcans didn't lie," Reed stares at her with narrowed eyes.
"I do not intend to lie to my superiors," T'Pol returns with cool detachment. "I shall, however, spare them the detailed description of all the illogical reasons that drive forth the actions of human beings. The High Command does not need to be burdened by such trivialities."
For a moment there is shocked silence in the Ready Room, broken by Archer's full-belly laughter.
"I think we all can live with that," he says. "Welcome aboard, Subcommander!"
Shortly thereafter, they all enter the Bridge from the Ready Room. Reed, Mayweather and Hoshi reclaim their stations, while Sandra and Ianto hover at the turbolift, waiting for the Captain to make his big announcement.
Archer asks Hoshi to put him on ship-wide intercom and clears his throat.
"I hope nobody's in a big hurry to get home," he says to everybody. "Starfleet seems to think we're ready to begin our actual mission."
Excited reactions filter through the intercom from all over the ship and Archer grins happily, like a child in a candy shop.
"I understand there's an inhabited planet a few light years from here," he continues.
Reed checks the readings of the long-range scanners.
"Sensors show a nitrogen-sulphide atmosphere," he reports.
"Probably not humanoids," Hoshi adds, her eyes shining with excitement.
"That's what we're here to find out," Archer turns to Mayweather. "Prepare to break orbit and lay in a course."
Mayweather does as he's told; then he looks up. "I'm reading an ion storm on that trajectory, sir... should I go around it?"
Archer takes his chair and shakes his head. "We can't be afraid of the wind, Ensign. Take us to warp four."
Mayweather acknowledges his order, and Enterprise jumps into warp space… to boldly go where no man has gone before.
~The End~
soledad_cartwright 20. 10. 2015.
As you can see, this story is now complete. There will be several sequels, all set in this alternate universe, assuming that I'll find the time and the inspiration to write them. Let's say that I know what's going to happen and why - see you later (hopefully) in this place.