Bath'lor

House of the Governor

─•~:~•─

Be he a Colonel, a Brigadier, a Bounty Hunter or even a criminal, at the end of everything in the universe, Mor was a Klingon.

But rather than fight or drink or celebrate, he had to sit in Vrax's dining hall to participate in the signing of a formal peace agreement between the Klingon Empire and the Kinshya Illuminated Faithful as representative of the Federation Marine Corps.

Only two thoughts were in his mind right now.

If this takes much longer, I'm going to be late for dinner with Rain's daughter.

And I'll finally kill Mark for having the audacity not to attach himself officially to the operation, forcing me to stand here like an idiot.

The huge double doors to the dining hall opened, and like the other Klingons in the room, Mor bore witness to the Enlightened Apostate himself for the first time.

In all the many decades of war between the Empire and The Kinshya, no Chancellor had ever laid eyes or even spoken to his counterpart among the Kinshya.

This was a day of many firsts.

He looked just as monstrous as any of his followers. But where their fur was black in colour, The Apostate's was grey with age.

He walked even slower than other Kinshya, hunched over and with the use of a metal cane, something that Mor found shocking.

His long and massive wings dragged behind him on the floor of the hall, and the wings themselves were covered in the lines and marks of their strange religious tradition.

And covering the beast's monstrous mouth was a coder to enable him to speak to the representatives in the hall.

The Kinshya language could not be heard by the ears of Klingons or Humans, so the presence of the coder was yet another surprising concession among many others today.

The Enlightened Apostate had journeyed to Bath'lor alone, on a small shuttle, with no aids or attendants, and he was unarmed.

In seconds, as the old beast sat down in a chair built especially for him by request, Mor could have drawn any of his weapons and rid the Empire of one of its most persistent pests once and for all.

Even Volkol would have respected such a gesture.

But Martok had once again commanded Mor to kill no one this day without his direct order. The Chancellor stepped forward, and Mor cursed his caution.

"I am Martok, Supreme Chancellor of the Klingon High Council. I bid you welcome to Bath'lor," Martok proclaimed, with his voice betraying to Mor his desire to kill more Kinshya.

With significant effort, the old beast turned on the coder and replied with a flat, robotic voice that might once have been strong, but was now weak and frail with age, "I am known as Aegis, and I hold the blessed station of Enlightened Apostate. You may call me by name or title, which form of address you choose does not matter."

"It is my honour to speak for the Faithful, and my further honour to be the first among the Faithful to address you in person, Demons though you may be."

What does a beast know of Honour? Mor thought to himself.

And the beast was brave indeed if he thought that insults would win him any favour in this hall.

But for all that, his words were surprisingly well spoken.

Federation Anthropologists suggested that the Kinshya had a deep tradition of literature and spirituality, even rivalling the Klingons in that arena.

It mattered little to Mor. A poet would die at his hands as easily as a warrior, or a beast.

Martok bristled, but with great effort, he continued the formalities, "And it is my honour to be first among the Empire to address the Kinshya. Much blood has been spilled these past days, and I am to understand that you wish for it to end?"

"I wish it. The Faithful have waged Crusades against the Demons for 19 870 Cycles of the Solar March since we first left our dominion and journeyed to the darkness. Though our faith demands your extermination as enemies of the Holy Light, practicality demands an end to this unceasing violence."

"The light of too many valiant Crusaders has joined the Blessed Illumination these past cycles, and too few remain to continue our blessed traditions appropriately. Salatiz was a fool who stole a secret weapon from the Templars. The stations no longer heed my words, and there are whispers spoken of Infidels daring to challenge my own station. Continued bloodshed will end the Faithful as sure as any demonic blade."

"For as much as my survival as the survival of the Congregation, this bloodshed must end, blessed Martok," was the reply from Aegis.

The confession confirmed everything Mor had heard from both Federation and Klingon intelligence sources.

The Enlightened Apostate was losing control of his world, and the "congregation" was on the verge of civil war.

If left unchecked, the violence would spill into the Empire, and the Klingons were hardly prepared to deal with Kinshya refugees.

"Do you understand the terms I ask for? The Kinshya must disarm their fleet, and they must never again challenge the strength of the Klingon Empire," Martok demanded, placing the PADD on the table.

He stepped forward and spoke next as a Warrior, "Dare to violate this agreement, and the cost of blood will be no consequence to me! We will annihilate your congregation, even if I am the last Klingon to slay you in glorious battle!"

Aegis was silent for a long moment, clearly weighing the heavy cost he had been asked to pay.

Mor weighed the options in his mind.

Though the Empire – for the moment at least – lacked the strength to take the war any further from Bath'lor without heavy compromise to the security of the home world, The Kinshya had clearly come out of Operation Soul's Edge as the bloodier combatant.

By both Federation and KDF estimates, over half of their total navy had been destroyed over the skies of Bath'lor, and two-thirds of their trained infantry had been slaughtered at the hands of Mor and the Marines.

It pained Martok and Mor to admit, but these beasts more than likely feared the Federation even more than they did the Klingon Empire.

Starfleet had never encountered the Kinshya in battle, and on their first meeting, they had utterly humbled the mighty Engines of War.

And on the ground, the fighting strength of the FMC had laid low the Sword Abbotts to a degree that the Kinshya had never experienced.

And under the terms of the Treaty of Arkanis, the Federation would fight with their Klingon allies to the very end.

Aegis finally spoke again, "I understand. It is a heavy debt of repayment to bear, but it is one that I must take for the Congregation, no matter its weight. The price of annihilation is too great when weighed against our traditions."

Aegis lowered his monstrous head and brought his long hands together, "By the vow of the Blessed Illumination itself, The Faithful will never again wage Crusade upon the Demons or the Unclean. We ask only to be left alone to contemplate the great mystery of the darkness."

The Beast seemed to sigh, "Perhaps, after the cycles have passed and our own wisdom has grown, we may meet again not as enemies, but as fellows seeking the path to the Holy Light."

Martok handed the beast the PADD with the formal treaty.

Since the two species' system of writing was not mutually intelligible, the treaty would be 'signed' by bio-imprint.

"Then I too vow, on the Honour of Khaless the Unforgettable, that if the Kinshya vow to no longer raise a blade in anger to us, they will be left alone."

"And perhaps, one day, we will join you on that path," Martok replied, pressing his finger to the scanner so Aegis would know what to do.

Aegis pressed his massive finger where Martok had, and the PADD beeped once to signify that all required signatures were present.

Ironic, Mor thought.

It was a Federation PADD upon which the treaty was signed.

Guardians of Galactic Peace indeed.

Aegis rose slowly from his chair, and with effort spread his massive wings fully to Martok.

A few younger Klingons reached for their weapons, but Mor raised a hand and told them to hold.

It was not an attack, but a sign of respect.

"Our affair is concluded, and I will take my leave of you. For what it may be worth to the de- "Aegis stopped for a moment, and then spoke again, "to the Klingon Empire, may all those Faithful be blessed by the Holy Light of Illumination. Farewell."

Martok placed a closed fist over his chest, the Klingon salute of respect, and nodded to Aegis.

Mor, in turn, offered a Marine Salute to the beast.

Aegis stared at both men for a long moment and then turned to leave the hall as silently as he entered.

Once he was gone, Mor shouted, "Are we done here, Martok? I'm going to be late for dinner!"

Every Klingon in the huge hall laughed.

Martok placed his hand on Mor's shoulder, "One day, you may have to hold such a meeting yourself, Colonel Mor. I pray that you find the patience to bare it."

Vrax stepped forward and stood at attention, "Brigadier Mor! It has been my honour to host you in my home. You will be made welcome here at any time you wish!"

Mor placed his hand over his chest, "It is Colonel Mor now, but I thank you for your hospitality, Private Vrax. It pleases to me know that the spirit of the Tenth Kronos Shock Legion lives on in honourable men like you."

"But I will not do you the disservice of remaining in your home. I am still a traitor, as Volkol here would have you believe."

Mor pointed at the other Brigadier, who bristled at being mentioned.

To Mor's sadness, Volkol had failed to die in the battle.

The only theory that Mor could up with was that Volkol had hidden behind a tree somewhere.

He dared to speak up, "My words were true, coward. Never take that uniform off, Mor, as it is the only thing that will keep you safe in Klingon Space for as long as I live."

Martok walked over to the Brigadier and cuffed him hard enough to knock him to the floor.

Some of Volkol's men reached for their weapons, but Mor and the Grizzly Bears were faster.

Martok however raised his hand, and Mor and the Grizzlies lowered their weapons in respect.

"A pity that you did not die in glorious battle, Volkol. But I've had my fill of your whining incompetence and your living reminder of Gowron's own cowardice. You will live, but you will live to see how true Warriors conduct themselves!" said Martok, before turning to Mor, "Come forward Mor, Son of Klotz, Commander of 3 Assault Brigade, Federation Marine, Slayer of Romulans, Slayer of Kinshya, and Hero of the Empire!"

Mor did as he was ordered, taking a step forward.

Martok forced him to extend his hand, and drew his dak'tahg, not to kill Mor, but to perform a long overdue service, "On my authority as Supreme Chancellor of the Klingon High Council, I return what was wrongfully taken from you."

"From this time forward, all these titles I just mentioned are yours, to live in honour as a Klingon Warrior. And further, in recognition of the honour and courage displayed by the men under your command, the banner of the Grizzly Bears shall be brought to the Hall of Warriors, and hung alongside that of the Tenth Targs, a symbol of glory to inspire all true Warriors!"

Martok pulled the blade back and allowed Mor's blood to stain the floor.

He lifted the blade high and shouted, "Hail Mor, of the House of Mor, a Klingon Warrior!"