Klingons of Boreth

Chapter 1

The growl was low and filled with disdain and anger. "Clerics! They will be the death of me yet!" GowRon walked to the viewport, crossed his arms and glared into the darkness that was the space that surrounded his ship. Snapping his hand over his com-badge he shouted, "Commander Torth my quarters now!" He knew he sounded angry and it was more than communicated over the bridge's intercom.

"Yes, my lord I am on my way!" The bark was guttural and held a tinge of anxiety, the tone of the Supreme Commander's voice was testy and when he was testy he was deadly. Turning to his second in command he ordered him to take the helm. Bucking up his courage he turned and wondered if by the day's end if he would be in the bilge of the lowest depths of some mining colony on Qo'noS or would he still be on the uphill climb to his Captainship and the head of his own command.

GowRon looked down at the decoded missive he had just received and it made his blood boil with rage. Slamming his fist down on the panel he growled again. He wanted to hit someone or kill something perhaps he should take some time on the Holo deck and go hunting. The chirp at his door alerted him that Torth was awaiting entry to his quarters. "COME!" He barked then turned and crossed his arms glaring at the door.

Torth was far from a small Klingon. Standing all of six feet six he was two hundred eighty pounds of harden muscles and bone. Back straight eyes fixed he stepped into the room and saluted the commander. "Your command my lord GowRon?"

"I need this ship headed to Boreth immediately, and I want to be there yesterday. I also need to pick up someone from the Space Station near Cardassia. My nephew is there and he is needed for my meeting with the Supreme Cleric."

"Consider it done my lord, will there be anything else?" He stood stiff back and at attention his eyes fixed to a spot over the Supreme Commanders shoulders. Though not a tall man by any means, Torth knew that this Klingon had not climbed to the head of the council because he was weak. Just his presence forced those around him to respect if not fear him.

GowRon sighed deeply to release the tension that had been building in his body since he received that communiqué from Qo'noS. "Only if you can find someone that could get close enough to that bitch daughter of T'L'th's and kill her." The words had been softly muttered.

Torth was not sure he had heard the supreme Commander correctly. "I am sorry my lord did you say you wished the High Cleric M'lar dead?" He turned his dark troubled gaze on his leader. He knew that the myth that was M'lar could not be killed it had been tried numerous times and each time the poor bastard that had tried had found his desiccated body parts floating out some air lock in deep space.

"Never mind, I was angry forget I said anything, return to your post and let us collect my nephew if nothing else perhaps I can embarrass the house of T'L'th and force an arrange marriage between our houses to secure my position on both Boreth and Qo'noS." He watched the warrior in front of him give the traditional salute and turn to leave the room.

"I sweat Kantae you had better be in possession of that chalice or your life expectancy is limited in our family line." GowRon turned to peer out the viewport of his quarters and stood to fume silently about even having to go to Boreth. "Farmers, they are nothing more than clerics and farmers on this planet why they even claim to be Klingon is beyond me."

Somewhere Deep in the Alpha Memory Quadrant

Lifeless Moon Base obscured by a ring of floating debris

The slender form of a petite woman slumped down before the computer moving her fingers over the panel she sat back and began to speak softly. "Open dialogue, personal log." She paused thought a moment then began to speak again. "It began a week ago, and even now I am not sure of what I was witnessed or even a participant of in this newest assignment. I was ordered into the office of the Admiral Eric Pressman of Star Fleet Command." Here she chuckled softly and sighed at then personal joke that was going through her mind.

"You know little did I realize that once I arrived at his office that I would be I immediately transported to his ship and ushered into his ready room." Again that soft chuckle that was so like her and her father, Eric Pressman, the very man she had been summoned to meet with for this newest assignment.

She propped her tiny looking feet up on the console and folded her hands over her flat stomach. Closing her eyes she pinched the bridge of her nose. Another habit her father had when he was stressed or fatigued.

Obviously when she was transported to the ship's transporter room and escorted under guard to the ready room she had wondered if she was under arrest. She knew her last assignment had been borderline regulations for the all knowing and being Star Fleet Command. There had been some parts of the command that were allowed some levity with the way they 'negotiated' their positions while on assignment but they had directives and she had violated about ten of them at the last count.

She had dressed as she was ordered to dress in civilian clothing that would not denote her as anything other than an attractive female of five feet two inches in height, one hundred five pounds, long auburn hair and piercing green eyes. She was an uncommon beauty that caught and held the male attention and the females with the same taste for one of their own sex. She shot them all down with one single glance that said it all, 'not interested.'

The security team had cast admiring glances over her heavily endowed figure and she secretly smiled because none of them realized she out ranked them and was using her deep cover to make this meeting. Moving with a seductive sway to her hips she knew she had caught the attention of the Ensign behind her and threw him a come hither look over her shoulder. He winked and returned her smile then it was all back to business as usual.

She was summarily escorted into the office of Admiral Pressman. She could only imagine their thoughts and then recalled these men had been hand picked by her father for the very reason he always hand picked his men. They had been trained to guard their thoughts and hold their personal feelings in reserve to execute their duty faithfully to their superior officer.

" I looked at the Admiral he smiled invitingly to me offered me a chair and nodded to the security team and dismissed them. He held his soft chuckle of amusement until the room was clear.

"I love how you always seem to capture their attention and hold it. One of my tests to allow them to be a part of my personal guard if any one of them were to give you more than a smile, wink or try to get your information, I would throw them out on their butts and drum them out of the corp."

"He had sighed softly and studied me then smiled proudly. I knew then he was about to get serious and it was an assignment he had personally hand picked for me. I also knew I was not going to like where this all was going. Then he continued with his thoughts and the usual smoozing me to accept what he was about to order me to do."

"That I suppose is why you are so good at what you do Captain Jennings." Margo Jennings shrugged humbly and locked her gaze to the man that was her father. Though they did not share the same last name she was his daughter. A progeny of a night of passion shared between a beleaguered then Starfleet Commander and a Doctor from a rural community.

"I suppose you are starting this out with a compliment because you are proud and the fact you have a shit detail you want me to take and accept without comment or argument? What is this about and why am I here in your ready room?" She watched as her father leaned forward and pressed a few sensors on the table and an image was displayed on the view screen.

Margo had studied the image for a moment and noted the green eyes, auburn hair, the diminutive form in some sort of ornamental dress that denoted she held a position of power. It was foreign enough that it was not traditional Klingon dress from the ones she had seen before.

Turning her gaze on the man in front of her she held her own emotions in check and waited for the other proverbial show to drop. Patience had been a fortitude for her growing up and she knew now she had to wait for her father to get his thoughts together to express what he wanted or expected from her.

"Margo, this is M'lar, High Cleric to the Supreme Council of Boreth. She is in line to succeed her father upon his death. She is also shares a very close resemblance to you." Margo sat back and studied the features on the screen.

"We have the same eye color and hair color but Dad I don't have a turtle forehead if you had not noticed." She knew she was being derogatory. She had never had any kind of affinity to or for this race of barbarians and had resented being around them whenever the opportunity was afforded and she was forced to share space with them. Studying the image in front of her she smirked, she had never seen a small Klingon female before and this was certainly a first for her.

As an accent to what she had just pointed out she ran her index finger over her forehead. She watched him smile and with a flip of a couple more sensors he had her picture bisected on the screen and then enhanced the one of her slowly making her into a Klingon. When he had done his version of manipulations she had her remade Klingon picture superimposed over the Cleric's image and the images were a duplicating match to one another.

"Okay, I see it now so what has this to do with me? I am still wondering how such a tiny female Klingon could have found herself in a position of authority. I would have figured they would have thrown her back or killed her at birth because she did not meet the standards of being big and tall! " She was not sure if she liked this idea that was floating around in her mind of what exactly her father had wanted her to do.

"She was genetically designed with the DNA of Molar and Kahless. By combining the DNA of both the good and bad of the Klingon world her father as a tribute to his then mate A'Shira had her made small but powerful. Do not under estimate her daughter; she is far more than a tiny female with a wrinkled forehead. Fortunately for us, she also is an ally to Starfleet from this part of the Klingon world that kept itself separate from Qo'noS. Bear in mind that not much is known about the 'peaceful side of the Klingon population."

She had sat through his briefing her of what he expected and wanted and the reason for her participation. After he explained that there was some nasty manipulations going on involving the Cardassians and the Bajoran peace treaty she folded her fingers together over her stomach. She sat stone faced and listened to what he had proposed.

"So we will be taking you off the grid and depositing you on a nearby moon and you will stay there and start your training until you are needed. Will you do this for the old man?' There it was the parental guilt to get her to do what he wanted. She had watched him take on that pleading eye look watching her to gage her feelings about his request. To accent the importance of this assignment to him personally; he had stood and stepped around the table to stand behind her and gently began to massage her shoulders.

Always in the past that kind of cajoling had been a cue that she should be the dutiful daughter and do as her father expected and wanted. This time she was and had been more reserved simply because it dealt with the Klingons and he knew she had a problem with Klingons and why.

Blinking she sighed and continued with her log. "Once there, I was witness to something of an extraordinary nature. Even now I am not sure of what I am about to undertake, it would seem there is a faction of Klingons that are attempting to over throw the current peace treaty between Cardassia and Bajor. This is to throw the two worlds into another civil war as a form of a distraction to allow them passage into the neutral zone and the Romulan planet Remus. "

She shifted to get herself in a more comfortable position and closed her eyes and continued to dictate into her personal log. "Not only is this a problem with another civil war between Cardassia and Bajor but there is also a renegade faction of the Marquise that have decided to meddle in this affair. So, it appears I am in training to become a Klingon Cleric. It would further appear that I have a double or if you will a counter part in the Klingon Empire of Boreth."

"Can you imagine my surprise to discover that my counter part on Boreth is M'lar the High Cleric to the Council? She is the next in line to the Chair of the Supreme Clerk, a position that holds as much power and prestige as that peacock GowRon wishes to think he has as the head of the Klingon Council."

Taking a soft breath she continued with her thoughts. "The current chair of the Supreme Cleric is currently occupied by none other her father T'L'th." Reaching for her padd she brought up his image and studied it for a moment.

"From the intelligence gathered it appears she has a great deal of influence over the general populace and she is highly revered by them and it would be a foregone conclusion upon her father's passing to the great hall of warriors she will assume his position on the council."

Margo lifted the padd from the desk and flipped through the pages then rested her gaze on the face now peering back at her. "Apparently, she has been a leading influence over most the Cleric's warrior force. It is rumored that she is a direct descendent of Kahless the Unforgettable. She has even gotten the respect of most of the High Command in Qo'noS."

"Apparently, I will need to undergo some intensive training over the next three weeks to learn how to fight as a Klingon and to learn the language. I also understand that there are arrangements being made for me to actually meet the great and powerful M'lar her self." She yawned and closed her eyes for a moment to collect her thoughts. She was tired and she needed to sleep but sleep was not forthcoming at this point. She was conflicted with this new assignment. Truth be told she hated the Klingon race with the very fiber of her being and it was a prejudice that had gone back two generations before her.

"I wonder, since we look so much alike, if we indeed have the same temperament? I have to admit when my ire is up, my temper matches my hair much as my mother's temper did her red hair. I have to say the only saving grace out of his meeting will be that it most certainly be interesting. Never thought about coming face to face with an alternate race doppelganger. I must confess the thought of having a double both excites and repulses me." Flipping through her padd again she brought up the Klingon dietary habits frowned deeply and then and sighed.

"I have a problem with the requirements for the dining habits of the Klingon race. I am not accustomed to or have I ever desired to acquire a way of life as hostile or opposite of what I am or whom I represent. I am after all human. I do not know if I will be able to pull this off." She opened her eyes and looked at the quarters she had been placed in and sighed.

"The barbaric actions and habits of the Klingon contingency are so uncivilized. I know I am not as seasoned as some of the other operative that have been used. I also know my limitations. I am concerned that I may jeopardize this missin and will be considered withdrawing from this assignment. I though I would prefer the mines of Cardassia than to live amongst a group of savages such as the Klingons. I will study the computer-generated profile of M'lar and make a determination in the morning."

She shook her head and thought a moment and was angry with herself for being so negative about this assignment. "You would think with three degrees I could get past this personal affront to my life and life style by the simple suggestion I take this assignment as a personal favor for my father."

She stood and threw the padd on the desk top, stretched from the small of her back and rolled her neck left then right. "Right at this time, I am exhausted and need to rest. Perhaps in the morning I will have a better perspective or point of view." She turned to peer around the tight quarters and smiled.

"I think I should go to Admiral Namaghuchi and tell him of my reservations and request to be reassigned to a different detail. Although I am currently under standing orders to proceed with this current assignment. Whether I wish it or not." It was her turn to growl under her breath and she curled her hand into a tight fist and sighed again. "I don't like being a drama queen about this situation and perhaps if it were not for my great grandmother's experience that so affected my mother, may she rest in peace, I don't think I would have all these negative feelings."

She paced back and forth like a trapped animal and continued to purge her thoughts into her personal log. "My fears are that no matter how hard I plead, no matter what excuses I give, nothing short of resigning from Starfleet altogether will prevent me from being assigned to these very detestable task of living with a species I abhor and resent."

Then she let go with what it was about this whole assignment that had caught at her and stuck in her crawl. "I realize our relationship with the Klingon Empire has been tenuous to be sure but for me its personal and I should be above these feelings. After all the great Captain Kirk lost his son to the Klingon's vengeance and he was able to put aside his feelings. The difference is, I am not Kirk. I am Margo Jennings and human with real human feelings."

Pausing in her pacing she sighed deeply to release the tension from her body, then turned and looked down at the padd with the image of the woman that she was to meet. "Already I have found myself dreading this meeting with a woman that is supposed to resemble me. I wish I had more information. I just cannot bring myself to put my heart into this assignment."

She shook her head and hoped that by doing so it would shake loose some of these negative thoughts that were plaguing her. Then she began to speak softly again, "End log record date and time." She turned and walked out of the small room to a narrow hallway to another steel re-enforced door. Pressing her palm to the outside locking device she waited for the soft whoosh and the door opened. Entering the room she walked to a narrow but comfortable looking bed. This room like most safe house rooms was sterile and coldly impersonal.

The only thing of any personal nature was her clothing that now laid neatly packed in a compact silver case. Margo had been on a few assignments that had been hair raising and had placed her in jeopardy several times before. But nothing had been this deep cover and serious. It was going to require her to undergo surgery to alter her looks and make her look more like the Cleric.

That alone was unnerving her the most. She was truly afraid of becoming the one thing she hated the most and that was a Klingon. She knew it was silly fears that she would go so deep cover that she would loose a part of herself to a species that had caused her the most irritation in her practical life. That alone was an oxymoron, along with the fact she was a part of military Intelligence. She had never thought that the military had anything to do with intelligence. You had to be crazy and out of control to do half the things they expected her to do. So how had she come to this juncture in her life that had taken the practical out of the girl and the girl out of the practical? She was an adrenalin junkie.

Flopping down on her bed she closed her eyes and began to do a mental checklist of what she was going to have to do to begin this new assignment. "I will need to slowly start altering my diet. Perhaps I will supplement my diet with some nutrients cubes prior to attending the feasting functions. I also wonder how, I shall assimilate or acclimate to the Klingon way of life?"

This had been a check list of items she had summarily gone over at least ten times since she found she was being assigned to this newest mission. Frowning she sighed. "They are so uncouth, detestable, barbaric savages with no sense of dress or culture." Again there was the crux of the problem it always came down to the checklist of negatives that she was still wrestling with and how she would accomplish blending in and being accepted.

Reaching over to the padd on her side table she flicked through the pages and came to the one folder she had been looking at earlier. "Profile on M'lar, daughter of T'l'th." Reading through the first few paragraphs she surmised, "She is a hard driven female of some considerable importance, this we knew already." She read on and began to begrudgingly find she liked this female. "She took her right to accession at the age of eight, she has been rumored to been gifted with second sight so she could be a telepath. That would make her one up on her enemies."

"So, she can precog who she can trust and who she needs to snuff out. I just hope she learns to trust me and then maybe I can learn to trust her." She laid the padd on her chest and sighed. "perhaps if I put it down and then read it I can explain why I am having the most difficulty with being surgically altered as a Klingon."

Closing her eyes she thought about why she hated being thrown into this mission. Continuing to speak softly, Margo began to explain her aversion to being with the race known as Klingons.