Five Days Later
IKS Kang
Negh'Var Class Battleship
500 000 Kilometres from Bath'lor
Kurn of Kronos, once Kurn, son of Mohg, sighed deeply at the sight on his view screen aboard mighty Kang.
An old Klingon proverb reverberated in his mind at that moment, Time is the ally of a defender, and enemy of the attacker.
Despite his brother Martok's spurning – at one point resorting to drawing his dak'tahg on a member of the High Council – it had taken those idiots over a day to fully understand that the Empire was, in fact, under attack.
It had taken another day for those fat, old petaQ to send a message to Kinshya Prime demanding an explanation for the attack, to which no response was ever received.
What have we become as a people if we resort to talking to our enemies before killing them? Was another thought reverberating through Kurn's mind?
But he knew the answer to the question would be as lost as a subspace message to a race of Vermin who had based their religion on the extermination of Klingons.
On the third day, Martok had at last gained permission to assemble a counterattack but had been told in no uncertain terms that he was not to lead the attack himself.
Klingon Law was not as deceitful or full of loopholes as the laws of the Federation or the Romulan Republic, but it was absolute in its authority, and no Chancellor could defy the majority vote of the High Council. Martok seized his authority however and named Kurn of Kronos as the commander in his stead.
By right, Kurn was still a brother to the House of Martok, as was Worf, but unlike his brother by blood, Kurn had forsaken the lands and titles of Martok for the chance to earn his own fame and glory.
Some in the Empire dared to whisper that Kurn of Kronos should become Chancellor in the event of Martok's death by time or blade, but Kurn – the son of Mohg – had travelled that path once before, and it was not a journey he cared to repeat.
Yet another day was wasted dealing with the actual organization of the assembled counterattack that Kurn would command. The Empire had plenty of ships, but there were precious few experienced officers to man those ships, a result of the savagery of the Dominion.
Even his ship, the mighty Kang, flagship of the Klingon Fleet, was manned by boys who had yet to see combat for the first time, or old men who had seen too much combat to know fear or foolishness in their hearts.
Kurn and Martok realized that wasting more time recalling experienced officers would only aid the enemy, and thus they were forced to make do with what they had.
At last, on the fifth day, the 4th Kronos Assault Fleet had arrived in the system to begin the task of repelling the Kinshya. It had been fifty years since the zealot beasts had last dared to challenge the strength of the Empire, and Kurn had been looking forward to adding their deaths to his list of accomplishments.
But then, Kang dropped out of warp and witnessed the daunting task in front of his commander, and Kurn found himself wondering if it would instead be Fek'lar awaiting him at the end of the day rather than Khaless and his father Mohg.
On paper, the 4th Kronos Assault Fleet was supposed to be five hundred warships strong, with an embarked infantry force of fifty thousand warriors and able to respond to any enemy within three days' notice.
In reality, ninety ships carrying just under twenty thousand fighting men and women had journeyed to Bath'lor, a result of logistical problems, political interference, poor timing, and plain bad luck.
In front of Kang were two hundred and twenty-seven Kinshya Battlecruisers, holding a strong position above the planet's high orbitals.
And from the reports Kurn had seen from the surface, there may have been as many as three hundred thousand beasts waiting for his fighting men and women below.
No proper Warrior ever went into battle without knowing his enemy, and Kurn had spent four days pouring over every little piece of information the KDF had about the Kinshya.
The reports were sparse and grave in equal measure. Except for Kang and his twenty brothers alongside Kurn that morning, a Kinshya Battlecruiser was an even match for any Klingon ship in a fair fight.
The Empire had only two real advantages in facing these vermin, superior numbers, and the Klingon cloaking device.
The Dominion War had eliminated the first advantage, so it was the second that Kurn would be counting on to ensure his entry to Sto'VoKor that morning.
"Kang to all ships", the commander said into his fleet-wide channel, "We will proceed as planned. Kor Squadron will make a close approach to the planet and begin beaming down the infantry. Kang squadron is responsible for bleeding these beasts out. Maintain your cloaks for as long as possible, and do not allow yourself to be trapped between the foul-shaped vessels".
"The fleet has acknowledged your order, sir". said the nervous young man at the comm's station.
Kurn rose from his seat and put a hand on the young man's shoulder, "What is your name, Warrior?"
"J'Tod, son of Trar, of the House of Wuv" replied J'Tod.
"The House of Wuv. I had the honour of fighting alongside Duskax in Gowron's War of Ascension many years ago. Do you know him?" asked Kurn.
"He was my father's father, Lord Kurn. He had died in battle before I was born. My Father spoke often of his triumphs, however. Is it true that you and he killed five hundred of Duras' soldiers in the First City?"
"Honestly, I lost count. We were both so drunk that I forgot simple things like counting or speaking that day". Kurn replied with a smile.
The bridge crew let out a thunderous laugh. Humans called it Gallows Humour, but whatever the name was, it was an effective way to release tension before a glorious battle.
Kurn tensed his hand on young J'Tod's shoulder, "I do remember one lesson that he taught me, and I will pass it on to you J'Tod, son of Trar, son of Duskax. Try not to look scared, and you will find courage in your heart. When we join him in Sto'VoKor later today, I promise that your honourable Grandfather has a barrel of the finest Warnog waiting for us in Khaless' golden halls".
Kurn returned to his seat and hit his comm channel for a final time, "Forward, brave sons and daughters of Khaless. To death and glory we ride on this fine day to die. Qa'pla!"
And while the Warriors aboard sang songs of death and glory, the fleet proceeded quietly and under cloak to their targets.
Kor Squadron, consisting of Vorcha classattack cruisers and infantry transport ships proceeded ahead of Kang, along withhis nineteen other Negh'Var brothers and a wing of K'Vort class Birds of Prey, faster and more reliable than anything else in the Klingon fleet.
Kurn watched the tactical display closely as Kor Squadron drew closer to the planet. Kang lined himself up towards the closest target, and the Commander held his hand over the switch that would drop the mighty battleship's cloak and arm his weapons for the bloody task ahead.
But Kurn would be robbed of his glory.
Twenty of the strange, white-coloured, trapezoidal-shaped Kinshya Battle Cruisers turned suddenly to starboard and fired their equally strange – but no less deadly – disruptors at the still-cloaked Kor squadron.
Klingon scientific methodology couldn't come close to that of the Federation, but even Kurn knew that given the enormity of space and the angles needed to accurately target disruptors, the shots couldn't have been random tests or accidents.
The Kinshya had somehow gained the ability to track Klingon Warships even while under a cloak. And Kurn's only advantage this morning had been lost.
Twenty of the infantry transports – unarmed and lumbering Targs that were little more than converted cargo hauliers – exploded in pale red light as Kinshya disruptor bolts cut through their unshielded hulls, blasting apart warp cores and reactors without a single thought to the brave Warriors aboard who would never get to fire a shot in return.
The Vorcha escorts quickly turned and prepared to drop their cloaks, but the Kinshya were faster and sent every escort down to GretHoR in red fire.
In less than five minutes, Kor squadron had been savaged at the hands of the beasts, and Kurn's place in GretHoR was all but assured.
"Kang to all remaining ships", Kurn screamed into his comm's panel, "Drop cloak and fire!"
The K'vorts were first and nimbly rolled their way through the fire as quickly as their agile bodies would allow.
But once more the Kinshya were the faster combatant. The Birds of Prey were flying bravely and boldly and were being savagely cut down like targs to the slaughter pits. A few that survived the initial slaughter tried to cloak and regroup, but the beasts were proving merciless.
Cloaked or not, The Kinshya's attack was deadly effective, and the K'vorts quickly joined the infantry transports in GretHoR.
"My Lord Kurn! They can track us under cloak! What do we do?!" Young J'Tod screamed at the Commander.
Kurn would have no part of being called a Lord, but there were more important tasks to perform. He looked at the tactical overlay and tried his best not to let fear take his heart.
Twenty-five warships had been destroyed outright, thirty more were heavily damaged or disabled, and the Kinshya had yet to suffer a single loss in return.
Mighty Kang and his brothers were pouring what fire they could into the jaws of the beasts, but there were too many of them moving in too quickly.
Fear yet again dared to enter his heart as the Kinshya reinforcement group approached what was left of Kurn's fleet from port.
He was now trapped between two groups of foes, and with his fire proving ineffective, there was only one move left to make.
Angrily hitting his switch, Kurn cried out to the fleet, "Withdraw. Maximum speed back to the home world!"
He next looked to J'Tod, "Open a channel to Martok, he must be notified immediately". and returned to the study of the tactical display, being fed new data from the science station.
The station had identified a sophisticated tachyon detection grid spreading through space now. Such technical skill was something that the Kinshya should not possess.
To Kurn's best knowledge, only the Federation had ever fielded such a system. The Romulans dared not in fear of compromising their own – and though it was blasphemy to say – better-designed cloaking devices, and even the Dominion had failed to come up with a viable system.
A dark thought entered his mind, Has the Federation turned on us?
But he drove it away with the calm logic of a warrior. If the Federation had indeed decided to at last turn upon the Empire, they would have done so themselves, and Worf would have enough honour to warn his blood brother.
Martok appeared on the view screen and Kurn did his best to bury his dark thoughts, "Greetings Brother! Have you achieved victory so quickly?"
"We haven't yet, my brother. For the moment, we have been defeated. It would seem the beasts have come prepared this time". Kurn replied.
"How?! What happened Kurn?"
"We were heavily outnumbered, and more than that, they have gained the ability to track us under cloak using a tachyon detection net. The how is a mystery, but the fact remains that they knew we were coming, and they were well prepared for our arrival".
"Forgive me, brother, I try not to make a habit of failure, but I have ordered a withdraw pending a more favourable chance" Kurn replied softly.
"There's nothing to forgive Kurn, if what you say is true then there was no other option for you. And I commend you for having the presence of mind to preserve our fleet for the next attempt". said Martok, letting experience and wisdom comfort his brother's spirit.
"How do you intend to make that attempt?" asked Kurn, "It took us a week just to assemble this attack. We don't have the strength for another before we both die of old age!"
Martok sighed deeply, "It pains me to admit it, but we will need the Federation's aid if we are to be successful. Return here as soon as you can, and we will discuss the details in person over a bottle". Martok replied, closing the channel.
Kurn rose from his chair, his bottle waiting for him in his quarters.
Before he could leave, J'Tod stopped him and asked, "If I may sir, my Father also spoke of Worf and the Federation. Are they strong enough to overcome the beasts?"
Kurn smiled, "Let me teach you a lesson now, young Warrior. The Federation is like a Mother Sabre Bear. Gentle and at peace if left alone, but dare to provoke her anger, and Khaless himself will not save you from her wrath. Remain here, and you may yet witness such strength for yourself".