Chapter 13: XIII
K'nera swallowed hard as she looked around her new post. It would be a simple assignment really. The refugees were mostly self-reliant and caused very little trouble. They were not prisoners of war; rather they were displaced allies who were to be treated as such. K'nera knew that her comrades would have been more comfortable with the former since Klingons in general prefer battle to peace. The small planet just within Klingon space had been designated to be a place of refuge for the few Betazoids who had been rescued during the attack on the Cyndriel system. Much like Celyn Four, the surface temperature was a bit cooler than Klingons preferred but unlike the planet that K'nera considered to be her home away from home, Talceus Prime did not require the inhabitants to live below the surface. Instead, both the refugees as well as the Klingons who were stationed there to protect them from future attacks by the Dominion all were bundled up to keep them warm from the bitter cold.
K'nera briefly spared a thought to wonder just what happened to the thousands of Betazoids who were not as lucky as the ones here on Talceus Prime. From what she had heard about the Dominion, the Founders didn't do anything without at least one hidden agenda. There were other systems that the Dominion could have captured that would have put them in a position to invade Earth just as they were now. So why did they decide to capture Betazed?
K'nera adjusted her small bag of personal belongings and headed toward the bunker that served as the living quarters for the Klingons stationed at the camp. As she approached the guard who was stationed outside, she could see the disdain in the man's eyes. The same disdain that she'd often felt throughout her life; especially when she lived on the Klingon homeworld. It had been a constant in her life for longer than she could remember. Even on her uncle's ship, that disdain had followed her in her day-to-day life. Not only could K'nera feel the emotion that the man didn't even bother to try to hide but she could hear his thoughts as well. Thoughts that only echoed the ones she had heard from the minds of others when she was first stationed on the Ya'Vang.
With her eyes and shoulders set, K'nera walked boldly up to the Klingon and handed over the data pad that had her orders on it and waited for him to check the information on his own tablet. Once her orders were confirmed the man grudgingly allowed her entrance into the bunker. She then headed to the office that was indicated to her and left the grumbling Klingon behind in favor of many more as she passed them by on her way to meet with her new commanding officer.
When K'nera finally reached her destination, she was met with an aging, portly, older man who had seen better days. She remained at attention as the man reviewed her orders as well as her service record; mainly to keep her standing and waiting a bit longer to see how she would react to the lack of regard for her or her discomfort of the meeting. When he finally spoke, there was no need to use telepathy to discern just how he felt about having an alien under his command.
"K'nera, daughter of Lor'vah of the House of K'maj'ik. Your very presence here is an insult to me and my men. This bunker was to be our refuge away from your kind. I don't appreciate having an alien thrust on me and forced under my command."
"Sir, in all things that matter, tlhIngan jIH!" (Literally, "Klingon I AM!") K'nera narrowed her eyes as she spoke. "I have chosen to serve the Empire just as any of the others who are under your command; as my record can attest to."
"But you are not Klingon! It was foolish for the Academy on Qo'noS to allow a Betazoid entrance while there were still so many loyal Klingons clamoring for the opportunity to enlist," Vagh practically spat out the word Betazoid as he spoke. "No doubt a favor to your father." K'nera opened her mouth as if to respond to the claim only to be spoken over by the commander. "Such favors will not be extended to you here. My men come to this bunker to get away from you telepaths and I will not have them forced to endure the presence of a mind reader during their off hours. Instead, when you are not on duty, I will expect you to promptly leave the facility. Quarters will be assigned to you within the city where the refugees are living. Is that understood?"
K'nera worked her jaw as she gave a solid, "Yes Sir," in return. In the back of her mind, she thought that it was probably a good thing that Admiral Vagh couldn't read her mind. If he could, he likely would have had her executed then and there for insubordination.
K'nera left the bunker and made her way to the building more than two kilometers away where her quarters that she had been assigned were located in. The bunker for the Klingons had been built as far away from the Betazoids' refugee camp that they could get away with from command.
As she walked down the frigid street in her Klingon attire, she could feel the eyes of curious Klingons and Betazoids alike. The Klingons snickered at the image of a Humanoid wearing the clothing of a Klingon Warrior and the Betazoids were confused. Many sent out questioning probes of thoughts to which K'nera promptly blocked as she continued to her quarters while avoiding the glances of the other telepaths yet staring down the Klingons at the same time. To look away from them would be a mistake. Any sign of weakness from her would surely be exploited and acted upon.
Once K'nera reached the designated building, she accessed her door and quickly slipped in before allowing the door to slide shut behind her. She then took in the room that would be her new home for the foreseeable future. It reflected the same sparseness that she would expect from a Klingon facility; particularly one that was to house troops. K'nera hadn't expected the Empire to furnish elaborate apartments for the refugees and she hadn't been disappointed.
She did, however, notice that a small Federation issue personal replicator was stationed on the far wall which she supposed had been sent by Starfleet to provide for the needs of its citizens while guests on the Klingon Outpost. Should any of the refugees wish to decorate their small abodes, they could do so using the replicators. K'nera was used to living with only the necessities to sustain her so she doubted that she, herself, would be using the replicator for anything other than simple clothing or food.
Judging by the attire that she'd seen some of the other Betazoids wearing as she walked from the Klingon bunker to the refugee city, others had certainly made full use of their ability to indulge in some of the finer things of life. Even out here in the middle of nowhere. In addition to the replicator that had been installed in the wall, the only furniture that made up the accommodations of the room were a personal table, a solitary chair and a metal rack that would serve as her bunk. The room itself was not much larger than the head on a warship but it was enough to serve any needs that she might have.
K'nera walked over to the table and put her bag down before sitting in the lone chair. She wouldn't begin her first shift rotation until twenty-two hundred hours, so she had nowhere to be for the next twelve hours. K'nera knew that she should try to rest since she hadn't slept well while in transit to Talceus Prime, but she wasn't tired so instead she pulled out her personal data pad and brought up the letter that she'd been trying to write Alexander in response to his latest one. A letter that was slow going for sure.
Every time that K'nera read through Alexander's latest transmission she couldn't help but recall the last time that they'd been together. She missed Alexander terribly but at the same time she was grudgingly happy to have the space that they now had so that she could think clearly without either her or his emotions to get in the way. She'd been down this road before with another Klingon and she knew that the wisest thing for either of them to do would be to end their relationship now before they got in any further. Though to be honest, it was likely too late to prevent any heartache. At times, it had been almost as if Alexander could touch her very soul when they were together.
DS9
Worf sat at the planning table with his friend and Chancellor, Martok, and reviewed the list of ships that had been scrounged up for the upcoming attack that the Empire and the Federation was planning against the Dominion. It was clear that in order to win this war the Alliance would need to take the fight directly down the throat of the Jem'Hadar and Breen.
Already, the Cardassians were realizing that they had chosen the wrong side and were striking back against their former allies which meant that the Dominion was now fighting a war on two fronts. One against the Alpha-Quadrant's joined forces and one against their own allies. That made now the perfect time to move against them. That is if the Klingon Empire and the other powers of the Alpha-Quadrant could come up with enough ships that could give them a decent fighting chance. Too many of their ships lately have fallen in battle and others were still slated for repairs.
"The Y'tem will be ready for battle by the time we are prepared to make our move," Worf added after a moment of silence. "Captain Rokis is a competent commander but his ship is still woefully understaffed right now."
"Good, it is a fine ship," Martok nodded his head as he stroked his beard as he thought. "We should have plenty of soldiers to fill the crew rosters. Transfer everyone that is assigned to a ship that is being repaired to make sure that the ships that are going into battle have enough men."
"I'll pull the crews from the B'renta, Golork, and the Ya'Vang and reassign them to the Y'tem and other ships that need additional men. That should be enough to see to it that Rokis has a full crew."
Martok eyed his friend at the mention of the ship that the man's son was stationed on. "How has Alexander been? I have not heard you mention him lately."
"He is well," Worf said briskly only to pull back with a heavy sigh. "At least I am told that he is."
"You have not asked him for yourself? Worf, what is wrong with you? I thought that this rift between you and he had been settled."
"It has been… I… I just do not think that it would be in his best interest if I make my presence known too often when it comes to his new life within the Empire."
"That is a sorry excuse, and you know it. First you didn't feel that you should speak to him too often when he lived as a Human and now that he is living as a Klingon Warrior you still hold back. He is your son, Worf, and he deserves more from his father than silence as he marches off to battle."
"I feel that my silence does him more good than my words ever could," Worf said honestly. "When he first joined the Empire, he proclaimed that he was of no House. Now he still is not known by others as my son, instead he is known as T'knehzoR of the House of Martok."
"That does not mean that he is not proud to be your son, Worf. You are a noble man, and your son knows that you hold high ideals. If I had not found you to be so, I would have never asked you into my House. But I have also found that you are a stubborn fool when it comes to your son. The only times that I have ever seen you doubt yourself is when it comes to matters of your heart, my friend. Especially where Alexander is concerned. Talk to him, Worf," Martok said assertively yet with compassion. "With what is on the horizon, there may not be another chance if you wait too long."
DS9
Alexander read his new orders on the data pad nearly in disbelief. The Ya'Vang had been damaged to the point where it will take weeks to be fixed (once it is moved to the top of the list of ships to be repaired) so its crew had been reassigned to other ships that were heading toward the frontlines. Word had it that a major battle was on the horizon, one that would tip the scale in the war against the Dominion. Every Klingon that Alexander knew seemed to walk with their shoulders held back just a bit more and walked with more pride in their steps at the thought of a glorious victory in the near future.
Alexander hoped with all of his heart that the war could be won soon. He had seen far too many of his friends and comrades die and he had no desire to see more join them in Stovokor. Nor did Alexander plan to cut his own life short anytime soon; in honorable death or not. He hoped to keep his promise and be able to return to Earth and ease the worry that he knew that his grandparents had for him while away at war. Not mention, he missed his home on Earth. It would be good to plan a visit there once the war was over.
Reading the data pad, he saw that his new commanding officer would be Captain Rokis of the Negh'Var-class warship Y'tem; a ship even larger than the Ya'Vang, a Vor'cha-class ship. The design of the Vor'cha-class maintains the typical Klingon configuration with a forward module supported by a thick horizontal neck running aft and spreads out into a larger secondary hull. With a crew of nineteen hundred and a length of five hundred meters, Vor'cha-class vessels are one of the largest ships in the Klingon Empire. They are heavily armed, sporting eighteen disruptor cannons as well as three photon torpedo launchers. In addition, the forward section of the cruiser is equipped with a particularly powerful disruptor beam. The ships are equipped with both warp and impulse engines and makes use of cloaking devices just as most other Klingon ships do.
The Negh'Var-class warship is the largest Klingon vessel. The Negh'Var-class shares many similarities in design in relation to the vessel's shape, color and nacelles. However, with a length of nearly seven hundred meters and a crew of twenty-five hundred, the Negh'Var-class is substantially bigger than the Vor'cha-class. The class is heavily armed, with twenty disruptor banks and four torpedo launchers, as well as a large forward disruptor cannon protruding from the forward section. If Alexander had been impressed with the Ya'Vang, he knew that the Y'tem will likely leave him speechless when he first sees it.
Alexander made a mental note that he should pull up the schematics of the ship so that he could familiarize himself with the layout before the transport arrives to take him to his new assignment. He certainly didn't want to end up wandering the ship lost while trying to find is duty station. On the Y'tem, he would be known from the very beginning as T'knehzoR of the House of Martok. He did not plan to bring dishonor to the man after he had graciously taken him in as a member of his family by stumbling around like the hybrid child that he knew he had to have appeared as when the man first met him. He wanted to make both Martok and his father proud of him.
Thinking of his father, Alexander scrolled down further on the data pad and saw that his father had sent him a Holo-letter. Smiling, Alexander listened to the brief note as the coarse man spoke the simple words of greeting. A man of few words, that was his father. He preferred action just as he knew that many Klingons did. Alexander figured that he must take after his mother. She had been an ambassador after all which meant that she battled with words much in the same way that he did. At times, Alexander wondered if he inherited anything of his father at all. Perhaps his father did as well.
In the letter, Alexander heard his father go on about how things had been going back on Deep Space Nine. He filled the time talking about a subject that Worf was the most comfortable with, work. Still, it was a message from the gruff man for which Alexander was grateful. He learned through the message that Lady Sirella had already set the new lands that Martok had gained when he became the chancellor in order. She and Martok's daughters were settling into the capital well.
In addition, he was told that Drex had recently been promoted to the position of second officer onboard the ValQIS. Like many were sure to, Alexander wondered momentarily if the promotion had anything to do with Martok's own recent raise in status, but he was sure that if the crew on the ValQIS found Drex to be lacking as a commanding officer he would know very soon. Klingons don't take well to following orders given by those whom they consider to be their lesser.
As the holo-letter came to a close, Worf expressed the desire for Alexander to join him on his next leave, just as soon as the war permitted. He made mention of the desire to go targ hunting for which Alexander didn't really care to do but the idea of being invited along was too much to pass up. He was just glad that his father wanted him along.
Perhaps he should ask Ch'Targh to give him some pointers so that he could practice throwing the traditional hunting spear that he knew that his father would insist on using on the hunt. That way he would make his father proud of him rather than causing the man to correct him the whole time they are off hunting, whenever that will be.